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fictionismyreality3 · 2 months

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Can we have a smut of stalker Jason with somnophilia and crazy to eat pussy? Plsss

I mean, Jason is a natural fucking pussy eater.

AND I'M HAPPY TO HAVE PLACED YOUR FIRST RESQUET!!

Can I be the 💦 anon? To u know that is me

Too Much to Take (18+)

Jason Todd x Reader

Tags: Smut, stalker!jason todd, possessive!jason todd

Warnings: romance and everything that comes with it, somnophilia, stalking, dubcon, guns, drugs, little to no aftercare.

Notes: hi babes!! I’m so so sorry this took so long, a bear ate my phone. My beautiful 💦 your request is much appreciated. I know it’s unrealistic that the reader never wakes up but I have nevER EVER BEEN HAPPIER.

The cool, night breeze of Bludhaven blew the white chiffon curtains your mother had gotten you in the wind. Across from your bed sat a gorgeous, kingly armchair where you loved to sit and read. Your apartment was carefully decorated by your artful hands, each piece put perfectly in its place. When you got home everyday, you knew you would be returning to a safe, cozy home full of memories and comfort items. Everything was just how it should be.

That’s why the man standing in your apartment was so out of place.

You were asleep, of course. Knocked out after a long day running errands. Your bed had welcomed you warmly, and you couldn’t resist cracking open your window just a little bit, wanting to savour the start of spring.

You knew the automatic danger that came with living in Bludhaven, but you’d saved up enough to move to a nicer area, and your apartment was on the 8th floor of your building. Surely, nobody would bother risking the fall.

Surely.

It had been three days since Jason had first saw you. Three days too long since he’d seen you in person. He’d watched you nearly every minute of the last 72 hours, consuming every ounce of information he could find about you and your life.

His shift watching over Bludhaven ended tomorrow, when Dick would be returning from wherever he went. So, he only had around a day left of viable excuse to be near you. After that, finding a reason to be in Bludhaven even longer would be his main priority. It was clear that he’d already be wherever you were. The thought of not being able to reach you was enough to shatter what little was left of his soul.

No, no, there was no going back now.

And so, Jason found himself perched on the rooftop across from your building, the endless Bludhaven rain pelting across his broad shoulders.

He spent the first few moments watching you carry out your night routine. It was all things many people in Bludhaven overlooked, or dropped as soon as their lives were overtaken by the chaos in the city. Somehow, you’d managed to maintain a semblance of a normal life even while being surrounded by shootings and drug runs.

He stayed still, hovering over your apartment like a cloud of death, his gaze never breaking to stray to anything else but you. He watched you make dinner, he watched you tidy up, he watched you get ready for bed. All of it was as fascinating to him as everything he’d seen when he researched your background.

All the little habits you did. The way you fiddled with the timer on the stove while you waited for the food, the way you danced to your music while you did dishes, the way you preferred an endless heap of pillows on your bed. Every little quirk he watched served to drill your presence deeper into his being. You were exactly what he needed.

So pure.

Innocent enough to leave your bedroom window open in the middle of a crime surge in the only city worse than Gotham.

It gave Jason the perfect opportunity to watch you sleep, and the perfect opportunity to survey your apartment for places to set up cameras. He’d need to make sure that he had every inch of the place covered so he could watch you at all times. The last thing Jason wanted was for some criminal or other creep to breathe the same air as you.

Oh, how cute.

He looked on as you settled into bed, reaching over to your nightstand to pat the head of a tiny giraffe plushy, as if it would stand guard and protect you from all the dangers in the world. You didn’t need a stupid plushie. You had him now.

But what if you needed him and he wasn’t there? What if you left your window open every night and someone with worse intentions was there to take advantage of it? He needed to be there to protect you, to keep away all the dangers and make sure you lived like a princess. It could happen tonight if Jason wasn’t careful. He couldn’t have that.

Wind blew the curtains in your window aside, as if the world was parting the barriers that lay between you. He was just going to make sure that nobody who was less well meaning than him would take a chance to hurt you.

With the speed of years and years of training, Jason hopped from rooftop to rooftop, as quiet as a panther stalking its prey. But Jason wasn’t stalking you. No, he was helping you, making sure you were safe.

Landing on your fire escape balcony without a sound, Jason stood motionless as he peered into your bedroom, his eyes locked on your sleeping form.

You were like an angel in his eyes. Something clean and untouched. Something that he could have all to himself now that he’d found you. Jason wasn’t worried about tainting you with his red-stained hands, no, you were saving him. You had saved him.

He took the time to study your bedroom, burning each item of decor into his mind. There were so many perfect spots to put cameras, and of course, he’d brought some with him just in case. They were small, tech he had ‘borrowed’ from Bruce’s generous stockpile in the safe house he was staying at.

He could have them placed and synced back up with his computer in less than five minutes. It would be so easy he wouldn’t even wake you.

And Jason didn’t want to wake you. It wasn’t just the fact that he felt you looked so peaceful sleeping, something he would hate to disturb, it was that he wasn’t ready.

If you knew who he was, how could he guarantee your safety? Not to mention the fact that you might even try to run from him.

Like hell.

So, Jason found himself pushing the window you’d cracked open further, till he could just slip inside. Landing on the balls of his feet as he’d been trained to do a hundred times before, his presence was barely audible.

Just being in the same room as you felt like he was drunk and more alert than ever all at once. In the back of his mind, a sour voice told him to stop, to let this be the farthest he went and leave before things got out of hand. God forbid Bruce found out. But he pushed those thoughts away as quickly as they came.

Taking his time, he walked slowly around your bedroom, his eyes soaking in everything that was just you. It was impossible to resist purusing your things as he came to your dresser. Trailing his fingers across all the little decorations you had, he closed his eyes, imagining he was touching your skin instead.

He couldn’t resist opening the drawers, and nearly sank to his knees when he saw that the first one he opened was full of your panties and bras. His mask suddenly felt constricting, and he immediately noticed his breaths pick up.

“Jesus Christ.” He huffed out in a sharp breath, his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

Looking back over at you sleeping in the bed, it was like he had the devil on both shoulders. Without thinking long enough to regret it, he reached for the prettiest pair, pocketing it so quickly it may as well had never been there.

Jason let out a heavy sigh, but continued placing cameras in places nobody but him would think to check. He’d have to come back later to do the rest of the apartment.

After just watching you sleep for what felt like far too little time, Jason finally willed himself to turn and leave. Every fibre of his being was screaming in protest. The thought of getting to be this close to you, only to have it ripped away, was almost too much to bear. Still, he made his way back to your window. That’s when he heard it.

The sound of rustling sheets filled Jason’s expertly trained ears and his gaze snapped to the noise instantly as he froze in place, halfway out your window.

Dear god.

Where you had been snuggled cutely in your blankets, you had kicked them off to leave your lower half exposed.

Your gorgeous legs lay splayed across your bed, long and elegant. All of his senses were dialled in on the singular sight of you. His cock thrummed with heat almost instantly, his pants stretched out by his girth as his gazed strayed further.

You were wearing a pair of flimsy sleep shorts and a shirt that was far too big for you and he’d be damned if he said it wasn’t the sexiest thing he’d ever seen.

With an amount of restraint he didn’t think he possessed, Jason bit his tongue, practically salivating at the sight of you. He rested his head against the window frame, halfway out of your apartment, halfway towards making a very bad decision.

He should leave. He should leave and never come back and leave you alone and stop. But he couldn’t.

Fuck it.

Refusing to spend any more time not having you, Jason pulled himself back through your window, prowling towards your bed.

He just stood there for a while like he had already, staring at the delicious curve of your ass and feeling his cock harden in his pants. If he was already going to hell for this then he would take his time savouring his sins.

But he could only hold himself back for so long.

With a quiet groan, Jason crept nearer to your side, pulling away the rest of the blankets as carefully as he could. It wasn’t that important for him to see all of you just yet. Not only was his mind only focused on one thing, but he knew he had all the time in the world to study every part of you. You were his after all.

Now that your lower half was exposed to the cool spring air, there was only one barrier keeping Jason from taking what was holding his entire soul. He prayed you were a heavy sleeper, and lowered himself to his stomach on the bed. Propped up on his elbows, there were only a few inches separating him from the only thing he wanted.

Thank god for sleep shorts.

In the back of his mind, he was already adding buying you something less revealing to his list of things to do, not wanting anyone to see you but him. But that could wait.

Taking off his mask and placing it on the floor beside your bed, he bit his tongue and gently hooked his fingers underneath your sleep shorts, pulling them to the side. All at once the breath left his lungs and he felt like his world was being tipped upside down. You didn’t wear any panties to bed.

Jason had to close his eyes for a moment in order to control his urge to wake you up and ravish you. When he opened them again, they flickered green and he zeroed in on what was making his mouth water.

Your pretty little pussy.

It was a miracle he’d gotten this far to be honest, but you didn’t seem to stir for anything. Thanking whatever force was allowing him this one pleasure, he moved closer to you and began taking what he wanted so desperately.

The moment his mouth met your pussy he nearly came in his pants.

Stopping for a second, he waited for any sign you were awake, his heart pounding in his ears. But you were still silent. Jason took this as his go ahead, but he had no intentions of stopping anyway.

He peppered kisses along your pussy, drunk on the softness of your skin and the taste of you on his lips. Everything in him was bursting with thrill, and he could barely stop himself from rutting against your bed to get some much needed friction. He wasn’t in his mind anymore, the only thing keeping him tethered to the planet was your sweet little cunt.

You began to breathe a little heavier in your sleep, your soft breathing quickly getting deeper. But Jason didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

Not when you tasted so divine, not when your skin felt like heaven on his tounge. He moved to your clit now, his whole face practically pressed into your pussy. If he was gonna go out between your legs, it was a death he would gladly take.

He sucked on your clit, alternating between swirling his tounge around it in tight little circles and sloppily eating you out. It was getting harder and harder for Jason to control the level of noise he was making. His groans and low, rumbling growls began to fill the room. It was just you. Only you in his mind, his heart, and his soul.

Oh, fuck.

You were making these cute little noises now. Little breathy whimpers and whines were leaving your lips. With each sound that reached his ears, he felt a bit more of his control slipping.

He hadn’t even noticed he was fucking you with two fingers until you began to squirm. All at once he halted all his movement, waiting for his fun to end, but your eyes never opened. This would all just be a really good dream for you. He almost chuckled at the idea.

Certain you’d stay asleep, he buried his face in your pussy, eating you like a man starved. His fingers pumped in and out of your now slick cunt, and his eyes rolled to the back of his head as he tasted your sweetness on his tongue.

But it wasn’t enough. He needed more.

He needed to make you cum. He needed to be the one, the only one, bringing you pleasure. He wanted to feel your cum running down his face. He wanted to taste you on his tongue three days from now.

There was no point trying to contain himself anymore. He’d already jumped off the edge a long time ago. Jason pumped a third finger into you, allowing himself to grind his raging cock against your bed. The noises you were making were getting louder, and you were beginning to writhe in your sheets every time he slammed his fingers into you. He knew he’d have to be quick, but honestly, he didn’t know how much more he could take.

Taking your clit in between his teeth, he grazed the sensitive skin just enough to have you even wetter for him. Jason was desperate. All his cares, all his worries had been replace by an unending, carnal urge for you.

Only you.

He pumped his fingers faster, driving them in and out while he ate you like a man possessed. Then, he got to experience what was easily the best thing that ever happened to him.

Without warning, your needy whimpers turned into one long, high pitched whine, and your sweetness burst into Jason’s mouth. He felt like he died all over again, cumming in his pants as he groaned into your pussy, shuddering. Never once did his fingers stop, only slowing to allow himself to lap up all of your juices.

The world was quiet for a moment as he stayed hooked on your cunt, his eyes closed in bliss.

But he couldn’t stay forever.

With an insane amount of difficulty, Jason placed one more kiss on your clit, and pulled your shorts back in place. His own underwear would be ruined, and he would definitely have to wash his pants, but he couldn't have given less of a shit.

Once he was sure you’d stay asleep, he moved off the bed, coming to stand beside your now flushed face. Jason didn’t know what was worse, having to leave after tasting the best thing ever, or the fact that you’d only remember this as a dream.

Not wanting to think about anything but how full his heart felt, he leaned down and pressed a feather light kiss to your cheek.

“Sweet dreams, baby. You’re mine.” He whispered softly, as if you could hear him, and brushed a lock of your hair behind your ear.

Taking one last glance at your pretty face, he turned and crept his way out of your apartment, leaving the way he came, through the window.

He made sure to close it.

It was clear to Jason that he should be feeling shame, remorse or disgust with himself for what he just did, but the only thing on his mind was how he wanted you awake for next time. And there would be a next time.

When you awoke that morning, and the haze of sleep cleared from your mind, your focus instantly went to the wetness between your thighs. You blushed as vague memories of a rather nice dream sprung to the forefront of your thoughts.

Shaking your head, you crawled out of bed, yawning, when your eyes caught on a slightly confusing sight.

“Didn’t I leave that open?”

#oneshot #jason todd x fem!reader #jason todd x y/n #jason todd x you #jason todd x reader #jason todd smut #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd #red hood x reader #red hood #red hood x you #red hood x y/n

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eunsoek · 4 months

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MAKING OUT ( ꩜ ᯅ ꩜;)⁭ ⁭

ft joshua

☆¸¸ .•*★.

The birthday buzz had gotten to Joshua today: his closest friends throwing a small yet lively evening gathering with plenty of drinks to accompany. He had been at your side since morning, with his arm slung around your waist or his fingers anchoring your shoulders in a half-back hug. Funny thing is, it wasn’t even your birthday. It was his. He just loved loving on you, and who was he to give that up just for one day.

The day started off amazingly; he adored the expensive coat you gifted him over breakfast in bed, something he had been not-so-inconspicuously eyeing for a while. It wasn’t an easy feat. You had to sneakily take his measurements using clothes in his wardrobe, and then somehow managed to stash away the thick package before the day arrived. You praised yourself for how good Joshua looked in the coat. The deep blue fabric stretched over his broad shoulders. He looked so heavenly, so dependable.

Then, came lunch. You hosted a hearty meal for Joshua and his parents, serving up all of his favourite dishes. Some of which were childhood favourites he hadn’t tasted in years, thanks to numerous phone calls with his mother in preparation. Seeing the way his face lit up at the sight of the familiar foods, and his constant, content chatter at the table, felt like enough birthday gifts to last you your lifetime.

In between, you spent time swathed up in blankets and each others’ arms on the couch, episodes of reality tv housewives and their girls trips running on television.

Your boyfriend wasn’t being the easiest to deal with right now. Through a series of party games after party games, accompanied with a reenactment where he pretended a bartender — making sure you “drank only the best (his) drinks” — Joshua only became even more cheeky, even more of a menace. The drinks he made you tasted worse and worse too. His imagination running wild only fuelled crazier ideas and ingredients. At some point, you had to put a pause to his little service.

The arm that once slung comfortingly around your waist turned into tight, tight backhugs and his chin stuck resting on your shoulder. The adoring eye smiles also evolved into lingering, desperate eyes, keen for a moment’s privacy. It didn’t help that your charming, sweet boyfriend swept you aside and into the hallway. Alone.

The voices of his group mates and closest friends inside the living room could still be heard, but the closed door giving you two a bit of peace dulled the world around you. The overhead hallway warm-light cast shadows over Joshua as he peered over you. His best features were highlighted, his lips only looked bigger and softer in the glow.

One hand left the other at your hips to cradle your face, brushing the strands of hair that dared to block his view of you. “That tickles,” you let out a breath. His smile only widened, making no move to stop his lingering fingers.

“I love you so, so much,” his arms tightened around you. His eyes gleamed now, the mood-lighting around you two forming stars and twinkles as he gazed on you. Your boyfriend had so much love to give, and there was no hiding on his side. It was so easy to find yourself overwhelmed by how much unfiltered care and adoration he had for you.

“Love you too, Joshie. I really hope you had a good day today,” you stepped closer into his embrace, your chin resting on his chest as you peered up at him.

“You have no idea,” he responded, leaning in to drop soft pecks all over your face: from the tip of your chin to your hairline. The kisses were enticingly light and feathery. After each one you couldn’t help but lean back in for another, only to be disappointed as Joshua drops the next in a different place, missing your lips. “I’m so excited to spend a life with you,” he leaned back, giggling at your unsuccessful efforts.

Bringing your hands up to loop around his neck, you brought him in to meet your lips. “Me too,” you whispered. The kiss started off sweet, gentle, as innocent as a couple could be. And you could feel a smile on your boyfriend’s lips as he continued kissing you.

The way he holds you, treating you like you’re so incredibly precious, turns you a little crazed. Gradually, his fingers curl into the fabric of your top, itching to delve under, desperate to touch your skin.

A particular loud yell from your friends makes you jump, Joshua’s teeth tugging on your bottom lip as you pull apart. “They’re having fun,” you smile, pointedly.

“We can have fun too,” he smirks, pulling you back in. You exhale, amused. Drunk Joshua was certainly more forward than usual, suggestive comments weren’t extremely uncommon but they definitely heightened when he was in one of his moods. His quip makes you giggle, and you feel an urge to spur more reactions out of him.

You tease Joshua as he reaches in, lips getting dangerously close each time but never quite meeting. At the first, he simply sighs, but as you hold up your teases his arms encase you even tighter. He’s definitely caught on by now. “Stop it…” he whines.

In one breath, you’re amusingly watching him grow more and more frustrated, but in the next, your hands are no longer on him. Instead, they’re held behind you, his hands firmly grasping your wrists together.

His lips crash onto yours, the force making you stumble a little, Joshua pressing you into the wall behind you.

You can feel each rise and fall of his chest against yours, your own heartbeat racing to mirror his. You’re overwhelmed by everything him, party cake and fruity drinks taste sweet on his tongue. His — and yours — favourite perfume overtakes you through subtle woody and vanilla scents.

You hear him hum lowly, a hand coming up to guide your lips to different angles. You swear you might faint, your knees were close to giving way and your heart was beating so fast your thoughts can’t keep up.

Joshua’s relentless kisses were addictive, but you pull away reluctantly, for fear of your own sanity. Your lips instantly feel colder, lonely without someone to love.

His thumb comes up to wipe away some of the drool at the corner of your mouth, your boyfriend grins, very pleased. “You messy girl,” he tuts playfully. You definitely don’t think you could last a lifetime without Joshua’s kisses, especially if they were like this.

#bc love-crazed and tease!joshua turns me insane 🤕#svt x reader #seventeen x reader #joshua x reader #hong joshua x reader #svt joshua x reader #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff

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supernovafics · 4 months

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Hey love your “I’ll be there for you” series, recently read the one where Steve walked in on her and was wondering if you could write her walking in on him please 💖

𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐓𝐀𝐋𝐊 𝐀𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐈𝐓

"i'll be there for you" universe masterlist

pairing: bestfriend!roommate!steve harrington x fem!reader

word count: 3k words

warnings: explicit language, brief-ish mention of reader’s shitty parents

summary: in which you and steve end up at your childhood home after a shitty party at the house of one of your old high school friends. a frozen pizza and some spilled wine lead to another awkward moment between you two, but the roles are reversed this time around

author's note: thanks for the request! this became a lot longer than i expected but it was a really fun one to write lol

general note: everything in this universe/series can be read as standalone oneshots but to understand the full “lore” it would prob be best to read the other stuff too<333

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Fall 1985

“Are we living in a nightmare right now?”

You didn’t need to hear Steve’s response to know exactly how true your words were.

Deciding to come to this party, and forcing Steve to come with you, was probably one of the worst ideas you’ve had in a while and you now fully regretted it. Even before going, you had a feeling it would suck— that it would be full of way too many people you knew from high school, most of whom you never really wanted to see again. But, when you were invited by an old friend after running into her at the diner you and Steve would frequent, it felt too hard to say no on the spot, and then just for one stupid second you managed to convince yourself that this could be a good idea; fun, even.

And making Steve come with you would also make it a thousand times more bearable. Even though he was working a late shift at Family Video, you were still able to convince him to come to the party with you after his shift— mainly because you promised him that you would clean out Harold’s cage for the next two weeks.

Barely twenty minutes in, you two had gotten split up somehow and you had minor conversations, none of which were started by you, with at least ten people from high school. What made it worse was that since it was Thanksgiving break most people were home for the week from whatever college they went off to, and all you heard about were stories of people’s college experiences so far, which quickly became way too repetitive.

After hearing one too many stories about “having so much freedom” and “super crazy frat parties,” you desperately started searching for Steve so that you two could leave. You had spotted him in the kitchen in a matter of seconds having a conversation with a random guy, and as if sensing your gaze on him, his eyes immediately met yours. You gave each other a look that said everything that needed to be said and you met him outside moments later.

Now your eyes were fixed on his car, which was completely sandwiched in by two cars that parked way too close, so there was no way that you two could leave right then.

When Steve laughed at the current situation and at you saying that this entire night was a nightmare, you gave him a confused look.

“Why are you laughing?”

He lightly shrugged, eyes meeting yours. “Come on, this is at least a little bit funny. When was the last time you’ve seen shit like this happen before?”

You let out a sigh that morphed into somewhat of a laugh. “Okay, so instead of a nightmare this is just some kind of fucked up comedy movie?”

“Yes, exactly,” He said with a nod. “So, now what? Should we go back inside?”

“No way,” You told him as you leaned against the side of his car instead of going back toward the house. Steve didn’t say anything in response to that and simply joined you, standing close enough so that it was easy for you to lean your head against his shoulder.

It was quiet for a few moments, probably because you both were trying to figure out how to salvage the rest of the night. On the drive back home, you were going to suggest that you two pick up something from the pizza place close by the apartment and then settle on the couch and watch a movie since it was barely ten o’clock, but now that idea felt pretty impossible.

You were about to say that maybe you two should go back inside the house and just find a room to camp out in for the time being— it felt like the only plausible idea that wouldn’t have you two standing out in the cold for the next few hours. But then you remembered the address of the house you two were currently standing outside of, and it finally hit you why the street name had felt so familiar when it was scrawled out and given to you on a random napkin at the diner.

“Oh, my God. Samantha’s seventh birthday!”

Steve’s eyebrows furrowed at your abrupt words. “What?”

You lifted your head from his shoulder and looked at him. “Okay, long story short, this girl in my second grade class lived on this street and she was having a birthday party, and my mom dropped me off for it. I think that there was some confusion between her and my dad about who would pick me up from it, so neither of them ended up coming because they both thought that the other one was; or maybe they just forgot. Before Samantha’s parents could notice that I was the last kid left— and that I was the kid whose parents forgot to pick them up from a birthday party, which felt so embarrassing— I decided to walk home. It felt like an hour, but I think it was actually just like ten minutes. And that sad story was the long winded way of me saying that we should just walk to my house right now because it’s really close and who knows how long it’ll take for either of these cars to move.”

Steve bypassed your final statement for a moment. “You walked home when you were seven, and this is a story that is just now coming up?”

“Some traumatic childhood memories I like to keep to myself and completely repress unless it’s absolutely necessary to bring them up, and this moment needed that story.” You were only slightly joking with your words. “Anyway, my parents are still on that Thanksgiving ski trip with yours until Sunday, so the house is empty. Let’s go, Harrington.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Overall, you loved your childhood home, it was just your parents that had made it unbearable most of the time— which was what made you want to move out sooner rather than later. However, since your parents weren’t home, it wasn’t surprising that you were enjoying being in the kitchen with Steve right then.

You had pulled a bottle of wine off the rack that was in the living room, and you and Steve decided to drink it out of mugs instead of glasses because it felt much less “adult” that way. You were sitting on top of the island that sat in the middle of the kitchen and Steve stood next to you after he put the frozen pizza that he found in the freezer into the oven— you were certain that you had bought it during the summer before you moved out because you truly couldn’t imagine your parents buying it themselves.

The bottle of wine was already done, with the last of it going into your mug, and Steve took a quick sip of what was left in his before speaking. “Y’know whenever we tell each other shitty childhood stories, like that birthday party one, it makes me really glad that we have each other.”

You knew for a fact that it wasn’t the wine and your slight inebriation that made his words hit you so damn hard. Instead, they hit you hard because of how completely true they were and how you felt the exact same way. Nearly ten years of Steve being in your life and it was difficult, and equally painful, to imagine anything different. It was hard to picture what your life would be like if you hadn’t met him on that stupid cruise when you were ten.

You were sure that you still would’ve had friends in this sucky alternate universe where you never met Steve, and you maybe even called someone else your best friend. But you were also sure that none of those friendships would be like what you had with Steve. What you two had was unprecedented, and as dramatic as it probably would’ve sounded if you said this to anyone that wasn’t Steve, it felt like something that was once in a lifetime.

How deeply you’d been affected by his words right then may not have been due to the wine, but you knew that your sudden urge to cry at that moment was due to your slight inebriation. You brought your mug to your lips and took a long drink from it to settle the lump growing in your throat.

“That feeling’s very mutual,” You ultimately said as you playfully bumped your knee against him. “Also, you’re being way too sentimental right now, which feels very out of character for you.”

He smiled at that. “Oh, yes, I forgot. You’re the sentimental one when we’re drunk. I shouldn’t be taking over that role.”

“Exactly,” You said sarcastically to match his tone and moved your hand to point at him, which you did way too fast and made most of the red wine in your mug spill all over his shirt and onto the floor. You immediately slapped your free hand over your mouth out of shock and so you wouldn’t laugh at what just happened. “Oh, shit. I’m sorry.”

Steve laughed, which made it a thousand times harder to hold back your own laughter. “I had a feeling you hated this shirt, but now I know for sure that you do.”

You actually had nothing against the simple yellow crewneck he was wearing with the sleeves bunched up at his elbows, but before you two had left the apartment that night, you made a playful joke about his outfit; it was just fun to push his buttons sometimes.

“I actually really like it. This was purely accidental,” You said as you sat your now empty mug down next to you.

“Where’s the mop again?”

You shook your head at his question and pushed yourself off the counter, avoiding the mess on the floor. “No, I’ll clean this up, you should go change. There’s probably something of yours left in my room because I didn’t completely empty out all of the drawers when I packed.” You walked around Steve and toward the sink so that you could grab the sponge and clean the counter first. “And actually, you should maybe shower too unless you wanna smell like a vineyard for the rest of the night. And I personally don’t know if I’ll be able to stomach that.”

“I feel like if I leave, you’ll somehow just end up making a bigger mess,” He said and you immediately rolled your eyes at that.

“I’m sober enough to do this,” You told him. “You wanna see me walk in a straight line?”

Before he could answer, you quickly went over to the fridge and then turned around and started walking toward him, one foot in front of the other in a line that was somewhat straight. When you were standing right in front of him, you booped the tip of his nose with your finger.

He couldn’t help but laugh at your current antics. “I don’t know if that helped me believe that you’re not drunk right now.”

“Just go,” You said as you went back over to the sink. “If I somehow end up starting a fire, I’ll make sure to go get you before leaving the house or even calling 911.”

“That’s very comforting to know,” Steve told you sarcastically before he finally started heading down the hall. “But, you should definitely call 911 before getting me.”

“Yeah, yeah. It will all depend on how I feel in the moment,” You responded loud enough for him to hear, and you only heard him overdramatically sigh in response, which made you laugh.

You cleaned up the wine that dripped onto the countertop and what spilled on the floor, and then you put both mugs in the sink and washed them. The mundane act managed to sober you up for the most part, and it also somehow made you need to pee.

You were certain that Steve was already in the guest bathroom because that was the one he always used when he would come over. Therefore, you decided to go to yours, which was connected to your bedroom right down the hall.

At first, when you were younger, you hated having your bedroom on the first floor because it felt so far away from your parents, whose room was upstairs, and it was also harder to get away from the noise whenever they decided to have work parties at the house. But that hatred quickly changed as you got older because the fact that you were on the first floor made it so much easier for you to sneak out, mainly to Steve’s house twenty minutes away, or to sneak Steve in.

The bedroom was now mostly empty and bare, but some things still lingered— your old bedding was still on the bed and some posters were still on the wall; ones that you didn’t want to bring to the apartment because they felt as if they just had to stay here. Even a smiling picture of you and Steve in his pool that was taken by his mom one Summer felt weirdly right to leave pinned up on the wall next to your closet like it had been for the past seven years. You bypassed the weirdness and slight nostalgia you were feeling at that moment and instead went to your bathroom.

You did not expect to see Steve when you opened the door and you especially didn’t expect him to see him naked. He must’ve just gotten out of the shower because the towel that should’ve been wrapped around his waist was in his damp hair instead.

The first thought you had when your eyes inadvertently traveled downward was that when the tables had been turned and you joked about seeing his “little Harrington” to make things even between you two, he was right by saying that it wasn’t little. It was actually nowhere near being little. You were unsure if that was a sober thought or a drunk one; it somehow felt like both.

“Oh, shit, fuck,” You immediately turned around and then quickly realized that you didn’t close the door back, but you refused to turn around again, so you backed up a bit until you felt the doorknob and then harshly pulled it shut. “Fuck.”

“Did you actually start a fire?” You heard Steve’s voice through the door.

“No,” You answered, eyes now firmly shut even though they didn’t have to be. “I thought you were in the other bathroom. You always use the other one. Why are you using mine?”

“I only use the other one when you’re using yours. The water pressure in here is so much better.”

“Oh,” You said, hating how much sense the short explanation made. “Well, still, fuck. And also, I’m sorry.”

Steve let out a laugh, which surprised you because nothing about this moment felt like it should’ve been laughed about, at least not yet. “Y’know this moment feels like the worst kind of deja vu.”

You groaned. “Ugh, stop, we said we’d never bring up that moment.”

“I know, but it feels like a very fitting time to bring it up,” He said. “And, at least, now we’re even.”

“I guess that’s sadly true, but I was completely okay with us never being even on this thing,” You told him. “And now we have another moment that we’ll take to our graves and never speak of.”

“The list just keeps growing and growing.”

“We should commit a crime so that we have less embarrassing things on the list.”

“I agree.” You heard the door open and you kept your eyes shut even though you were still turned around. “It’s okay. I have clothes on now.”

You let out a sigh in relief and turned around to face him. He was wearing your white t-shirt that had your high school name and “Class of ‘85” written across the front of it in dark green lettering— it was fairly oversized on you, but it fit him fine— and he had on a pair of black sweatpants that you knew were his because of the bleach spots on one of the legs. You remembered that they had been living in the bottom of your drawer since Junior year of high school.

For some reason, it felt so damn awkward looking at him right then, even though he was now fully clothed. Now you completely understood why he had been so embarrassed when he walked in on you. You tried to think back to what you had said to him in that moment to ease the awkwardness, maybe those words could’ve been helpful in this moment, but your mind was drawing a blank. All you could think about and picture right then were things that you definitely should not have been thinking about or picturing.

You then remembered the reason why you’d been heading to your bathroom in the first place. “I think seeing your little Harrington scared my pee away.”

You refused to mention that you now knew that it actually wasn’t “little” because he did not need an ego boost right then when you were the one who felt way too awkward about this entire situation.

Steve let out a laugh and shook his head. “I don’t really know what to say to that.”

You covered your face with your hands. “Don’t say anything, actually. I don’t even know why I just said that. This whole moment just feels so weird.”

“I think what you said to me that day when I did this to you was something like, Stop being weird and awkward about this. Let’s just forget this ever happened,” Steve said and you playfully punched his arm when he attempted to mimic your voice.

“Fuck you. My voice is not that high-pitched.”

Steve simply shrugged. “Close enough.”

“I did have very wise words, though,” You told him. “And we should listen to them and completely forget this moment ever happened.”

“Taking it to the grave.”

You nodded. “To the grave.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。. .・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

let me know ur thoughts<333

(requests are open for stuff you wanna see in the universe/series!🫶🏾)

#steve harrington x reader #steve harrington fic #steve harrington fluff #steve harrington smut #steve harrington series #steve harrington x you #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington x fem!reader #stranger things fluff #steve harrington x reader smut #steve harrington x y/n #stranger things fic #stranger things imagine #stranger things series #stranger things smut

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auspicioustidings · 3 months

Text

Military Operation

Summary: Soap finds out Ghost has never celebrated Valentine's Day before and it all goes a little tits up. This is part of @bunnyreaper's Valentine's Day exchange and is for @juvenillia <3 (I signed up for this before I went into an absolute depressive fugue state so I can only apologise that it is not my best writing)

Words: 3k

“I’m naw fucking around, this needs tae be efficient and ruthless. Get in, get out, dinnae take any chances.”

“Yes sir.”

You try to hold in a laugh, eyes watering as Gaz catches your eye and is finding it equally as hilarious to have the Captain refer to Soap as sir. It’s ridiculous and Price knows it, but with how worked up Soap is he’s clearly feeling indulgent. Only all mirth dies and leaves your throat tight when Soap sets his eyes on you, looking wounded.

You had not realised until right this moment how much this meant to him. It seemed silly to you that he was treating Valentine’s Day as a military operation after Ghost let slip that he had never celebrated it, but it definitely wasn’t silly to Soap. Ah shit. Now you felt dreadful.

“Ok Sergeant, what can we do?”

He softened a bit at your sincerity and as he went over all of his planning you couldn’t help but feel the dread bubble up. You had been on this team for long enough now to know when John MacTavish was spiralling, and right now he was spiralling. It had been a while since his last episode when Gaz had gotten shot on mission and he had spent the next month completely burning himself out in his desperation to look after him. It was how he was, once he cared about you, he would completely self-destruct if it meant he could be of some service to you. It had been Ghost who brought him back that time and honestly you had not a fucking clue how.

You were paired up with Price to get the pool ready as per Soap’s instructions while he handled the rec room decorations and Gaz was sent to deal with food. It was pretty overboard as far as a Valentine’s Day went. Soap’s plan was to give Ghost a card telling him to go to the rec room after a romantic breakfast where there would be a note to lead him to the next location. It would be sweet if poor Soap wasn’t liable to give himself a stress induced heart attack before the end of the day.

“Captain…”

“I know kid” Price sighed with a press of his lips to your cheek. “If we can just get through today then we'll see what can be done. If we try stop him it’ll make him worse.”

You knew he was right even if you didn’t like it. Honestly the relationship the 5 of you had was tenuous at best. You were a unit, you worked well together in the field. You couldn’t really pinpoint when you had become something more than that. It happened slowly. It wasn’t some big confession or conversation, it was affectionate touches turning to something more between all of you. You thought that was perfect, but you wondered sometimes if for someone like Soap who was a romantic at heart and never could hide his feelings, the lack of definition as to what this all was stung.

“None of that corporal. If I have to be up sneaking around at 2am on Valentine’s Day putting bloody rose petals in a swimming pool then at the very least I’m going to take what enjoyment I can from it.”

“Is there any enjoyment you can get from this?”

“Hmm, battle plans are your specialisation.”

“That right?”

“Better come up with a plan for us to somehow take some enjoyment from being here all alone at this time.”

“That an order Captain?”

“Only because I know how much you like taking orders from me.”

You had to give it to Price, he had a way of taking your mind off things and then making you completely lose it. Slowly. Decadently. Several delicious times in a row.

–

You sleepily speared one of your pancakes and plopped it on Gaz’s plate who just as sleepily nuzzled a thank you into your hair before tucking in. Soap was sharp eyed given that none of you had bloody slept trying to make everything absolutely perfect for his plans. His leg was bouncing under the table as Price and Ghost joined you all at the table.

“Happy Valentine’s Day!” he blurted out.

Ghost only responded with a slight nod of acknowledgment before Soap put the envelope on the table causing a tilt of Ghost’s head in question.

“Open it LT!”

You would really like to be invested in this, but as with Gaz beside you the two of you were more concerned about how Soap would cope with today. Honestly this could all go completely off without a hitch and he’d probably still be a mess at the end of the day thinking he had fucked everything up. Only it did not go off without a hitch as Ghost started to speak whilst opening the card that would kick off a day of in your face Valentine’s Day fun.

“S’not that I don’t appreciate it Johnny. February 14th is an anniversary.”

Oh no.

“Not really up for big celebrations the way you lot probably are. Seems wrong to on the day they were murdered.”

Oh no. It was too late. He was reading it. He was reading the card telling him to go to the rec room after he had eaten breakfast. The rec room that was smothered in fucking heart balloons and bunting and flowers. Gaz choked down his pancakes at breakneck speed.

“Totally understandable. Don’t worry about it, we really only had low key stuff planned but maybe it’d be nice to get off base instead” you said with what you hoped was a very believable smile.

“Oh! Aye! A wee off base trip would be good!”

“Hey” Ghost said, his big hand going to rest on top of Soap’s still bouncing leg to stop it. “Stop flapping Johnny. Low key is fine, just let me get breakfast and I’ll come to the rec room.”

Maybe God would be merciful and a nuclear war would start before he got the chance and save you all from being revealed as the most callous assholes in the world who were shoving love in Simon Riley’s face on the anniversary his family were fucking murdered. But since you couldn’t rely on that, you, Gaz and Soap were up and snatching your plates off the table in record time.

“Sounds good! You and Cap take your time, it’s really nothing big so no rush!” Gaz said with forced brightness and a mega watt smile to Price that in no uncertain terms said ‘please keep him here for as long as possible while we try to do damage control’.

“Aye, dinnae rush! Enjoy yer pancakes!” Soap added, choking on the last word as his eyes bulged out of his head.

Fuck. The pancakes. The fucking stupid heart pancakes that were sitting ready on the counter for Ghost to take. Only when he stood to go grab his plate, Gaz beat him to it and grabbed the full stack in his hand before shoving them into his mouth. Everyone froze in total shock as Soap sprung into action to help push the rest of the mess into Gaz’s face as he struggled to breathe while trying to swallow.

“Ah ha, totally forgot Gaz is carb loading! For that marathon thing. Yeah he’s totally carb loading right now, just eating all the carbs in sight.”

Gaz tried to back you up on that around a mouthful of stupid fucking pancakes only resulting in him nearly choking on powdered sugar and syrup while Soap started to frantically steer him out of the room. None of you noticed Price sneaking a photo of the whole scene.

“Aye, carb loading! Cannae help himself! Bonnie can make ye pancakes, they’re the best at them since they always take their time cooking. And then ye can all meet us.”

“Yes! I can do that. Totally. I can make pancakes. Slow cooked pancakes since Gaz ate your portion. Because he is carb loading.”

Soap pressed a frantic parting kiss to your forehead, leaving one on Ghost’s mask and the last on Price’s lips before carting Gaz out of there still coughing and sputtering and covered with syrup. Yeah, totally chill and normal behaviour. If you were anything but in a blind panic maybe it would have been suspicious that Ghost didn’t ask questions, only taking your hips to pull your back against his chest and scrape his teeth against your throat.

“Better get to making those pancakes before the Lieutenant skips right to dessert luv.”

–

“Jesus what are these made of fucking kevlar?” Gaz hissed, trying to pop one of the heart balloons with his teeth because his panicked fingers couldn’t get the bloody thing untied.

On an empty bloody base and neither of them had so much as a fucking pin for popping balloons after sprinting from the mess to try and get rid of the evidence of a very ill conceived attempt at romance. Eventually he took his teeth to the knot and got the stupid thing undone only to get a mouth full of helium while Soap frantically stuffed bunting behind the sofa.

“This is a pure shitemare.”

“I’m sorry, a shitemare?”

There was a pause before the two of them burst into wild laughter. Gaz from the word shitemare, Soap from Gaz saying the word shitemare with his voice high from the helium. Fuck it felt good. It felt like a release after the last 20 minutes of absolute blind fear driving them to try and sort this fuck up out.

Honestly Gaz hadn’t seen Soap laugh since Ghost had said about never having celebrated Valentine’s Day a week ago and he missed it. He missed the way his boy’s eyes crinkled and how he carded his hands through his hair and messed it up while trying to catch his breath. He missed how everything felt alright when John MacTavish smiled at him.

He really couldn’t help going and kissing him when he collapsed in an exhausted heap on the sofa after they had both laughed themselves silly and finished brutally murdering the rest of the balloons and squirrelling away the bunting. Soap had been his first kiss in the team and even now he liked kissing him most. You always teased him about it, knowing it didn’t take away from what you two had. After all, you would readily agree that Soap was the best kisser.

They still had to get rid of the flowers, but maybe staying here a little longer wouldn’t hurt.

–

“Leave them be sweetheart, they’re cute.”

You were at least relieved that the majority of the decorations seemed to have vanished even if there were still a few vases of flowers around the place, although the bigger relief was seeing your Sergeants tangled up snoozing on the sofa. When was the last time Soap had properly rested? It felt like he hadn’t at all this week. And Ghost was right, they certainly were cute like that. Price took a bunch of photos to prove it.

You felt thoroughly exhausted as well as you fell onto the other sofa, Ghost following and tucking you into his side.

“Did nobody sleep last night?”

You stuttered trying to come up with an excuse as to why you were all so tired.

“Could have at least invited me if there was an orgy happening.”

That turned you into a complete flustering mess which only made him and Price laugh.

“Come on sweetheart, get some rest in.”

Well since they had gotten rid of the note in this room about going to the pool next the whole crisis had been averted. And you always loved cuddling with Ghost. A nap couldn’t hurt.

–

“I like the flowers.”

Soap and Gaz shared a relieved look. They had meant to get rid of them but had passed out, only waking up a few hours later to find Ghost on the other sofa scrolling through his phone with you gently snoring tucked into his side. It was a really nice scene to wake up to actually. You weren’t tiny, but Ghost was huge enough to make you look that way. There was something that just made Soap’s chest warm seeing two people he knew went through hell out on the field both relaxed and gentle and happy. His quiet musing was interrupted by Gaz’s soft snort.

“You look broody as hell.”

“Want me to fuck a baby into you Gaz?”

“Not until you put a ring on it, no child of mine will be born in sin!”

Ghost’s laugh woke you but you were cosy right where you were and just listened to the three of them banter away.

“Having Johnny involved makes it a sin baby regardless of who he puts it in.”

“LT! I cannae believe ye’d say such a thing tae me! I’m a good Catholic boy!”

“Hmm, Catholicism does famously love a man sleeping with his entire unit” you quipped, earning a blown raspberry from Soap.

“Ye think my friend JC wasn’t balls deep in Judas and Mary at the very least?”

“Plus we bunk next to one another and they really make a whole big thing about loving thy neighbour so if anything we are simply following the good word.”

“See now Gaz gets it, that’s why he’s the one tae carry my child!”

“Congratulations on the pregnancy?” said Price in amusement as he came into the rec room, only catching the last line of the conversation.

“Thanks Cap” Gaz answered solemnly with a hand to his belly while you just rolled your eyes and smiled at how stupid these idiots were.

“Can’t wait for the baby shower. Thanks for the flowers, think I’m going to go a swim before lunch.”

It was a miracle Ghost did not feel how you tensed next to him (he did). The pool was still positively smothered in rose petals. Gaz and Soap must have realised at the same time you did, both of them leaping to their feet. Fuck.

“I’ll join you, but let’s swing by my office first.”

You wanted to kiss the Captain for his fast thinking. You just had to get to the pool and fish out the petals while Price kept Ghost busy and it would be absolutely fine.

–

“Where the fuck is it?!”

You could not believe this. The pool net was missing, the thing you needed to scoop out these stupid petals. The three of you had torn the place apart looking for it but it had yet to materialise. You felt like you were about to burst a blood vessel when Soap started laughing.

“I’m sorry, is something about this funny to you?” you hissed at him.

“Aye, ye look like a feisty wee cat when ye get all angry like that” he laughed.

God Soap loved seeing you angry. Not the angry you got on the battlefield, all blood and violence and vengeance. The angry you got just for them, when you were just normal people having a disaster of a Valentine’s Day and you went a shade darker with your eyes wild, arms crossed and foot tapping a grumpy little rhythm.

Gaz loved it too, but for different reasons. He knew when you got like this that either Soap or Ghost would start winding you up and it was always entertaining to watch the carnage that came of it. It had only been a week and he had already forgotten how much he liked seeing the two of you like this, having fun.

“Come on, Captain can’t distract him forever.”

Soap’s eye slid to Gaz, hearing the undercurrent of mischief just a beat too late as he was tackled into the pool with a yelp. You really had not seen that coming at all and as Soap broke the surface and shook out his hair you winched at how he switched from the brat you knew and loved to looking genuinely upset. You held a hand out to help him like an idiot only for him to drop his little facade and pull you in with a laugh.

“You fucking dick! I’m going to kill you!”

“At least start gathering petals while you do!” Gaz laughed as you went for Soap.

Only all that did was have you and Soap looking at one another and then to Gaz. He was the one who had started it. And he was going to fucking get it.

–

Price could not help but laugh at his team. Bunch of kids really.

“Pretty diabolical stealing the pool net old man.”

“Pretty sick lying about the date your family was brutally murdered.”

Ghost grinned under his mask with a shrug. Tommy would absolutely have done the same, and he could almost hear Beth’s outraged laugh about it. It’s not like he didn’t know what was going on, he had been happy to watch you getting your back blown out that morning at the pool by Price, but he could also see Johnny was going to that place that made him hurt himself. He needed to get out of his head, and nothing got him out of his head like you and Gaz.

“You going to join them?”

Ghost pushed off his mask and Price ruffled his hair, stealing a kiss.

“Well it is Valentine’s Day, so I suppose we’d better spend it with our better fifths no?” Simon replied, going to dive into the pool and join the chaos with his Captain close behind after getting a few more photos.

He’d show them to everyone later that evening since he had been taking them all day. Gaz sleepily nuzzling you in thanks at breakfast. Soap shoving pancakes into Gaz’s mouth. Ghost trying to distract you from making him pancakes. His napping Sergeants and his snoring Corporal. And his brilliant team all crashing through petal filled water laughing and having fun. As far as Valentine’s Day went, he didn’t think it could have been anymore perfect.

#mhairiwrites #cod #fanfic #tf 141 x reader #poly 141 x reader #poly 141

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saetoru · 2 years

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#𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐒𝐀𝐘 𝐌𝐘 𝐍𝐀𝐌𝐄, 𝐍𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆’𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐃

☰ SYNOPSIS ⋮ kento’s adjusting to life with a scarred face and body, one day at a time, hand in yours.

— pairing ⋮ nanami kento x reader

— length ⋮ 5.2k words (it could be worse methinks)

— contents ⋮ nsfw and 18+ content, fem! reader, post-shibuya incident (i've not rly gotten that far into the manga, so there isn't too much from it), nanami lives, he's having a hard time adjusting to his scars :(, insecure nanami, hints at ptsd, mentions of marriage and having children, body worship, blowjobs, cum swallowing, unprotected sex, creampie — he might be ooc i tried my best 🥹

— notes ⋮ this was supposed to be posted for his birthday…which was a month ago :,) anyway happy (very late) bday to my first ever jjk love—you are still the most special in my heart i miss you dearly. ty bby mich for reading over this mwah ily lover 🫶🏽

“here,” you murmur, smiling at nanami before setting the mug of coffee down on the nightstand beside him, “just how you like it.”

it’s a routine by now.

every day, at nine am sharp, you rise from your side of the bed, adjust the curtains so the small peek of light from the cracks doesn’t disturb him as he sleeps, hum the same little tune as you shuffle out of the room, and you make his coffee. it’s the same every morning—black with two spoons of sugar—and sometimes, it’s the only thing that feels the same for nanami since he’s come home from that day.

nanami doesn’t talk about the scars on his body. he doesn’t even really tell you details of how he got them after the incident. the only thing you really know is that it was bad, that he was half dead and half gone. he’d even left a voicemail—you still have it saved on your phone. he remembers walking through the pain, faintly thinking about how he couldn’t see through his left eye, and he thinks for a moment that he’ll die. he realizes that his goodbye kiss that morning would be the last kiss he’d ever give you, so he makes sure to part with at least one final piece of him before he does.

but somehow, he wakes up. he opens his eye—one of them is permanently gone—and he sees you tearily gasp and shoko breathe in relief. and then he realizes he’s alive.

“you should drink it while it’s hot, kento,” you say gently, carefully, like the wrong words are hot water to sunburnt skin. and you suppose they are—just that these burns are far worse.

he only hums, sitting up with his back against the bed frame and his eye still trained on his phone in his hands. nanami’s never really been one to use his phone longer than he absolutely needs to, but these days it serves as a good reason not to look up and meet your eyes—a perfect excuse to hide that very visible side of him he just can’t ignore.

“thank you, love,” he mumbles.

“what do you want for breakfast? i can make—”

“i’ll eat later,” he says quietly. hallow. “you can go ahead and eat without me.”

nanami kento has never really dwelled on whether or not he’s attractive. not before missing half of his face, and certainly not after—that much hasn’t changed. what has changed, however, is that he now dwells on how unattractive he is. he stares a little extra longer in the mirror, walks a little extra faster when he strides past you, is a little extra cautious to make sure you’re never on his left side. you pretend you don’t feel him stiffen under your touch, and he pretends he doesn’t notice your eyes dim every time.

on most nights, he has the same recurring dream. one of a wedding—with pictures of you both gathered around by laughing friends and family, pictures on the wall in a house of your wide smile and his soft eyes staring at you. pictures that he’ll someday show your children, pictures your children will someday show their children, pictures that are worth reminiscing over.

but then, just as his hand reaches for the frame of one, the same agonizing burn from that day spreads through his cheek, down his neck and arm, and stops just at his hip until he’s left numb on one whole side of his torso. then he’ll glance back at the photos, and suddenly, the same sunken hollows of his bones and the same marred skin of his face greet him. he wakes up every time to you beside him, watches the rising and falling of your unconscious figure that’s noticeably closer to him as you find him in your sleep each night despite him maintaining distance.

he often thinks about the vacation photos you’ll never get to take, the family albums you’ll never get to make together, and sometimes, nanami wonders if he really is alive and well when he grieves for himself. he grieves for everything he ever was. everything he ever could’ve been.

“kento,” you sigh, making yourself comfortable on the mattress, right next to his figure as your arm presses against his. it’s quiet—but it’s not the same comfortable silence you’re used to with nanami. he’s not the same tall and steady mountain—now, you think, he’s just an ant pile on the ground, too easy to kick away as you pass by like it was never there. “come have breakfast with me,” you insist.

“i’m not too hungry right now,” he says instantly. he doesn’t let you hear any emotion to his words, doesn’t give you a lot of opportunities to pick up on how he’s feeling or what’s on his mind. it’s an added burden, he supposes—asides from caring for his wounds, asides from pretending like you’re fine and things are okay, you have to deal with all the feelings he can’t seem to handle himself.

nanami has only shown you a vulnerable side once since he’s come home. it’s after the first time he tries to take a shower, when the water pelting against his raw skin hurts too much for him to handle, when the heat of the water burns at the sore spots. he has to take a bath instead, so you help him wash his body gently, carefully rubbing over the skin with a washcloth like you would a newborn. he lays on your chest that night, clutches at your shirt and slots his body between your legs while you kiss his forehead and rub his back until he sleeps.

after that, he sleeps on his side of the bed every night, and he doesn’t dare let himself cross over to yours. you try to stay on your half of the mattress until he’s ready, but you can’t control the way your body seeks his out in your sleep. by morning, you’re curled around his good arm, and he’s painfully stiff on his back as he sleeps, not moved an inch from the night before.

“kento, you never skip breakfast. you’ve always lectured me when i try to,” you furrow your brows, “just eat a little.”

“i’ll eat later,” he repeats, a tad bit firmer this time. you sigh before pulling the covers over your legs and settling deeper into the mattress.

“fine,” you huff, “i’ll just wait for you.”

“don’t be stubborn,” he frowns.

“i’m not.”

you pinch your nose, rubbing over the bridge to collect yourself. you try to be patient with nanami. he’s always been patient with you, always gentle and kind even when he’s tired. he needs you now, so you try to do the same for him—try to be as perfect for him as he would be for you if the roles were reversed.

but it’s hard for you too.

it’s hard to see the shell of the man you used to know. you love nanami even with taut skin and rough scars. you love nanami even with an eye patch and a trembling hand. you love nanami even with distant words and scarce touches. you love nanami even if he doesn’t want to deserve your love, and you’ll keep loving nanami until he loves himself too.

but it doesn’t stop you from growing impatient some days.

“kento, the only one being stubborn is you,” you say frustratedly, the slightly irritated exhale you try to hide does not go unnoticed by him.

he sets his phone down and looks at you fully for the first time in a long while.

“i’m not,” he says dryly, “you can eat without me, i said i’ll eat later.”

“and you can join me for once instead of sitting here and feeling bad for yourself.” he doesn’t say anything after that.

you wonder for a moment if you’ve gone a little too far, if you’re making things about yourself when they should be about him. you wonder if you’re selfish, if you hope he’ll heal for the sake of healing, or for the sake of being your kento again. you suppose maybe both.

but then you wonder if maybe he’ll ever even be the same kento again. but you think you’ll love this kento just as much as the old one—you think you’ll love every version of kento in every life.

“i’m fine,” is all he says.

nanami does not want to have breakfast with you. it’s not because he doesn’t like being around you—on most nights, he counts his blessings that you’re still climbing into bed beside him instead of packing your bags and walking away. it would be the easy thing to do, and he wouldn't blame you. maybe then, you might have a semblance of a normal life, a normal husband who doesn’t—didn’t, he couldn’t go back now—fight cursed blobs for a living. a wedding with happy pictures. a house with photos on the wall. children with a father they can go to the park with. family vacation albums you can put together.

it’s all things he’s robbed you of, all things he let burn away along with the healthy flesh he used to have. he knows that if he tells you this, you’ll insist nothing’s changed. but paper does not smooth down no matter how flat you press it after being crumpled, nanami kento knows this better than anyone else.

he doesn’t want to have breakfast—he can’t stomach the idea of sitting across from you at the table, of feeling the aftershocks of failing you first thing in the morning. lunch and dinner are hard enough as is, and he doesn’t want to skip those and offer you lonely meals along with the pain and suffering he’s already brought onto you through his injuries. he also doesn’t want you to have to stare at his pink flesh and pathetic eye patch and trembling hand. he doesn’t want you to realize you’re stuck, bound to a cage to care for a flightless bird when you deserve the sun’s rays and the wind blowing between your own feathers.

perhaps if he’d died, you’d have mourned him for a year or two. maybe three. perhaps if he’d died, you’d keep one of the ties he’s always worn—the ones you can’t help but tease—and keep them in a box with a photo. maybe you’d meet someone new, someone who’d teach you how to laugh again, to smile and feel the wind on your face and the grass between your toes. maybe you’d get married and throw the bouquet with a sweet laugh and hopeful eyes. maybe you’d move on and be happy—and if he got lucky, maybe you’d take out the picture and tie from time to time, looking back and remembering him too.

but now you’re stuck somewhere in between a stranger and the man you love, he thinks. and he’s stuck somewhere in between the living and the dead.

“you’re not fine, kento,” you sigh, shuffling closer until you can hug his arm. he lets you, looks down at his lap and lets himself ignore his mind screaming no in favor of feeling you press your warmth against him. truth be told, he misses your touch—he just can’t find it in him to let himself have it. “and you don’t have to be. not right now, at least. but someday—”

“someday, i’ll have even more regrets than today,” he says skeptically.

the sun pours through the small cracks of the curtain, hitting the skin he desperately wants to hide. he almost feels the ghost of a lone tear in the eye he doesn’t have.

“no,” you say firmly, reaching to cup his cheek and turning him to face you. you trail your thumb over the scarred skin, rubbing over what would’ve been the apple of his cheek like you always do, like nothing’s changed. “kento, you’re alive. you have things to live for,” you say softly, leaning and pressing a kiss under his eye patch.

and when a single tear rolls down the eye he does have, you catch it with your thumb and rub it away.

“not a wedding,” he mumbles.

“why not?” you tilt your head in confusion, “you…you don’t want to get married?”

“of course, i do,” nanami says quickly. he pauses, ponders his words for a moment before he decides to turn his body and face you fully. “i’m sorry,” he offers with a strained voice.

“what are you apologizing for, kento?”

“you won’t have the pictures you wanted. we won’t have photos on the walls, or vacation albums, or—”

“of course, we will,” you argue, furrowing your brows like the words he’s uttered are completely absurd. he shakes his head, running a hand through his hair—thankfully, that’s grown back in full, otherwise he doesn’t think he’d go out in public at all. the stares from people are expected, but he thinks the looks he’d get from being half bald might just have been a bit too much to handle. “kento, we can still do all the things we wanted. nothing’s changed.”

“everything’s changed,” he clenches his jaw, “i’d ruin them. the pictures, the moments. everything. if we had kids, i couldn’t even take them to the park, or drop them off at school, or pick them up. they’d get bullied by the other kids, the parents would whisper about you. i’d ruin it all. i am ruining—”

he doesn’t get to finish that last statement.

you climb onto his lap, cupping his cheeks with both hands and silencing him with a kiss. he doesn’t hesitate to kiss you back even if he doesn’t understand how you can be kissing him in the first place. it’s like muscle memory. it’s involuntary, the way his lips mold against yours. like the way his heart pumps blood and his lungs breathe in air, like a compass points north and the sun sets west, nanami kento’s lips press back against yours as firmly as he can without fail.

“not to me,” you whisper against him as you stop to breathe, “you wouldn’t ruin a thing to me. our pictures would be perfect, and our vacation albums too. our kids would be lucky. i’m lucky, kento,” your voice wavers. your eyes are glossy and your lips are trembling. you clutch his shirt this time, inching yourself closer until all that’s left is to climb into his skin. you’d do it if you could—scars and all. “i’m lucky you’re here, i’m lucky you’re alive. that you’ll scold me to go to bed on time at night. that you’ll make sure i don’t leave the house on an empty stomach in the morning. that you’re here to let me untie that awful tie of yours or hang your coat when you come home. that i don’t have to sleep alone. that i get to take bubble baths while you wash my back. that we can hold hands while we watch a movie. that you’re here kento—with me. i’m not…i don’t have to be alone. i’m alone when you’re gone,” you croak, tears slipping past your cheeks and splashing onto his shirt under you. “i don’t…i don’t wanna be alone. without you.”

it’s nanami who kisses you this time—and it’s the first time he kisses you himself, the first time he closes the gap and presses his lips to your own since he’s come home. he pulls your body flush against him, trying to make up for the time he’s kept you away. you kiss him back hard, silent streams of tears running down your face as you desperately taste him on your tongue. it’s a messy kiss, not like most of the kisses you’ve shared with nanami. this kiss tastes like narrowly missing death, like the reaper’s scythe misses by a hair, like heaven has closed its gates to grant you one more day on earth.

you pull away first, and he almost protests until you kiss under his eyepatch again. you trail your lips down his cheek and jaw, littering soft pecks along the raised skin of his neck while he breathes heavier. he lets out a shaky breath when you gently lift the hem of his shirt up slightly, waiting for his approval—and he almost wants the pull the covers over his body and shut his eyes and sleep again, but he decides to take a chance and let you peel his shirt from his body.

he doesn’t meet your eyes. he can’t. not when you’re staring down at his skin, tracing along the line that separates healthy flesh from scarred—along the line that separates his past from the present. and then you cross over to the side that’s not so perfect, that’s not smooth and promising under your touch, the side that’s rough and tight and a reminder of things he failed to do—and you kiss it.

“you’re beautiful. perfect,” you murmur as you kiss along his collarbone, all the way to his shoulder and back again, down his chest and along his abs, right to his waist where you press one last kiss to his hipbone sweetly. he’s panting by now, and nanami is more than a little embarrassed that he’s as hard as he is from something as little as affection.

but your lips are so near where he needs them so badly—and it’s been ages since he’s let himself indulge in anything sexual. even on his own.

“can i?” you hum, making him groan when you roll your palm over his crotch, feeling his erection poking through his pants. he lets his head fall back, lets his hands clutch the sheets under them as you untuck him from his pants when he nods. “missed you, kento,” you murmur, kissing the head of his cock.

the gesture makes him shudder, a weak grunt falling from his lips as he breathes heavier, letting out a soft groan when you smear the dribbling pre cum from his tip along his length. he’s sensitive, you note, more than he usually is—maybe it’s from not doing this for so long, maybe it’s from finally letting himself indulge in your touch after avoiding it, maybe it’s from the excitement that you still want him enough to do this. whatever it is, nanami moans softly when you stroke him slowly, chest rising and falling as you squeeze the base of his cock with every drag of your fist, cursing when you lean and press a small kiss to his inner thigh from your spot between his legs.

he spreads them a bit wider to make more room for you. he’s on what used to be your side of the bed—he lays there the first night so his burns aren’t next to you, and you don’t have it in you to protest. looking up to meet his gaze, you smile gently at him.

“do you want to stop?” you ask as you rub his thigh soothingly, “we don’t have to if you—”

“no,” he pants, “just…i…i’d like to keep going,” he says quietly. with that, you shoot him a bright grin, one that makes his heart flutter in his chest and his cock twitch between his legs. you pump him a few more times in your hand before leaning in to press a kiss to his tip once more, this time swirling your tongue around the fat head of his cock, gliding through his slit. he groans, low and deep from his chest, lets a hand fall to your head while the other fists the sheets.

“love you, kento. i love you,” you murmur, and then you’re taking him in your mouth, wrapping your lips around his length and swallowing around him. he bucks his hips on instinct, gasping when your hand comes to fondle with his balls, massaging them gently while you bob your head up and down his cock.

“f-fuck,” he rasps, “feels…feels good,” he breathes, closing his good eye and letting his head fall against the frame of the bed. you hum around him, the vibrations making him twitch slightly above you before you pick up the pace.

it’s messy, the way you loosen your jaw and fuck him with your mouth, the way his tip hits the back of your throat as a mix of your drool and his pre cum drips down your chin. he lets out a breathy whine when your tongue drags along the vein under his cock—he’s always been sensitive there. you still know him like the back of your hand, like he’s the same, like he’s not a stranger but the man you love, like nothing’s changed.

nanami has felt the warmth of your mouth pull him into blinding pleasure more times than he can count, but he never thought something so vulgar could make him feel so warm in his chest. you bob your head down, taking him deeper into your mouth, and he chokes on a cry of your name as he cradles the back of your head.

“‘m close, love—f-fuck, you sh-should—” he tries to warn you with a gentle tap to your head, but you’re determined to push him off the edge, so your hand squeezes around his balls a bit tighter, rolling the sensitive sacs in your hand and making his hips buck upwards as he grunts in surprise. he cums with a twitch of his cock, his orgasm crashing over him sooner than he expected. you hear him gasp, moaning brokenly as his eyes close and his lips tug between his teeth, hips rolling into your mouth against his better judgment. you swallow what you can of the hot, sticky ropes of cum that paint your mouth, hand pumping the base of his cock where you can’t fit. every crack in his voice and every low call of your name as he spills into you makes the walls of your pussy clench around nothing, an ache steadily building between your legs.

“so good,” he pants, spilling the last few ropes of his cum as he cants his hips up, “f-feels so good.” you pull away, swallowing whatever’s in your mouth as you stare up at him, making his eyes close as he lets out a low groan at the sight. you giggle when his cock twitches again between his thighs, still hard and heavy between his legs.

“not enough, baby?” you tease, kissing just below his belly button before you climb onto his lap, cupping his face as he smiles softly.

“i suppose not,” he chuckles lightly, “i don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you.”

“i love you, kento,” you murmur again, kissing along his jaw and nipping at his skin. his hands grip at your hips, squeezing firmly as he guides your clothed cunt to rub against his cock, making you sigh against his neck as your clit rubs over him through the fabric. “so much, you know. i don’t think i could ever stop.”

“yeah?” he asks quietly, “you think so?”

“yes,” you pout, wrapping your arms around his neck, burying your face into the crevice of his shoulder. he wraps an arm tightly around you, rubbing the small of your back as he feels you as close as space permits you to get—and even then, it’s not close enough. “i’m pouring my heart out, right now. you could say ‘i love you too,’ you know. now would be a perfect time.”

you feel his chuckle rumble from his chest against yours, and it’s the first time you’ve heard him laugh since he’s opened his eyes that day.

“no need to get so impatient, love,” he teases. nanami feels the sun soak his skin through the cracks of the curtains, and he sees the way it catches in your eyes and brings out the small flecks in your irises as you pull from the crook of his neck to press your forehead to his. the day has only begun, but he thinks for the first time in a long time, there’s more waiting for him. “i,” he presses a gentle kiss to the tip of your nose, “love you too.”

“a lot?” you bat your lashes with a cheeky grin. he shakes his head in amusement.

“i’ll have to think about that one,” he pretends to ponder for a moment.

“kento,” you whine, pouting deeper. nanami chuckles once, then twice, and then soft, sweet laughter pours from his mouth like honey trickles from the comb. it makes you giggle with him, contagiously pulling you to join his moment of glee. his chest is light but his arms are heavy with the weight of you in them—and he can’t ask for more.

maybe nothing’s changed after all.

“a lot,” he agrees with a nod. “i love you a lot. more than anything.”

“i want you more than anything,” you whisper, gently grinding your hips down on him, biting your lip as he drags along your throbbing clit. you whimper softly when his hand travels under your shirt, kneading your breasts in his palms as you roll your hips against him.

“i think i can give you that,” he murmurs.

it happens quicker than you can imagine. your shirt is pulled over your arms and your bra is unclasped. nanami flips you both over so your back hits the mattress and he’s hovering over your chest, lips wrapping around a pebbled nipple as he sucks and rolls his tongue over it. your hand clutches at his blonde locks, head thrown against the pillow as you whine, back arching a little when his hand reaches for your other tit and his fingers rub and pinch at your nipple so as not to leave it neglected.

“k-kento, please,” you breathe, “more.”

he hums, switching his mouth and his hand to give the same attention to the other side, slotting a knee between your legs and spreading them wide. you’re dripping, pussy aching as it craves the stretch of his cock. it’s almost nauseating, how much you need him—thankfully, he seems to have an idea.

you breathe his name the same way you always do when he slips himself into you, breathless and in love, brimming with lust and awe, glossed with ache and need. he sets his jaw and presses his forehead to yours, feeling your tight walls squeeze him in as he lets you adjust. and when you buck your hips with a greedy whine, just like you always do, he all but pulls out completely before slamming into you, just like he always does.

“god, kento,” you moan, “so full. feels good—always make me f-feel good. only you.” he groans at your words, hips rutting into you desperately as he chases the friction of your wet cunt, lost on the way your walls flutter around him.

you were made for him, he thinks, the way your pussy hugs around him, the way he fits so perfectly, the way your bodies slot against each other just right when you pull him close. nanami kento is sure you were sculpted by steady hands, deliberate and slow—and he can only hope he’s enough to be yours, enough to reach for your hand and feel the way your fingers entwine and your heart seeps through your palm into his.

he’ll cradle it carefully, until he’s enough for you, until you’ll willingly take his heart when he hands it to you too.

but something tells him from the way your cling to him, arms around his neck, chests pressed so closely that your nipples graze, that you want his heart in your palm too.

“fuck,” he grunts, “missed fucking you like this,” he mumbles against the shell of your ear, nibbling on your earlobe as you mewl, raising your hips and meeting his sloppy thrusts halfway. “missed the way you take me so well, love. so tight,” he breathes.

he lets a hand travel between your bodies, rubbing at your clit in slow circles that make you squeal, legs wrapping around his waist as your thighs tremble. his fat tip kisses your sweet spot, the one he knows by heart as he angles his hips and slams into you with precision, the slow, sloppy roll of his hips building up your orgasm in a steady ache. your hands find his hair, tugging at the roots as you let wanton moans spill from your mouth. and he’s everywhere, his skin against yours, his mouth pressing hot, searing kisses along your jaw, his vein dragging along your walls as his cock curves into you just right.

you can feel the coil in your belly tighten until it’s just ready to snap, can feel yourself get closer to your high, can feel the way nanami is close too as he twitches in your dripping heat. he’s groaning into your neck, head falling into the juncture of your shoulder as he lets out deep grunts, balls heavy and aching to release.

“kento, kento,” you chant his name. it leaves a tender feeling swimming in his chest, fond and proud and a little grateful all at once. the way you say his name like that makes him think you still need him, that he’s still enough, that he’s still everything you want. and when you tug at his roots, letting out a soft sob as his thumb rubs harshly over your sensitive clit, he smiles a little against your skin. “‘m so close kento, n-need it. need it so bad, please.”

“let go,” he kisses your neck, “cum for me, love.”

and you do. hard.

it’s been as long for you as it has for him—sometimes you let yourself forget that. but he slams himself into your walls, your slick smeared messily along your thighs, and you cum on his cock with a silent sob. your back arches as you cling to nanami, tugging at his hair while he fucks you through your high, groaning deeply at the way your walls spasm around his cock.

your high sends him hurdling into his own release, his second orgasm rippling through his spine as pleasure burns through every nerve. nanami’s head falls to your shoulder, and he faintly registers your hand cradling the back of his head as he desperately ruts into you, rhythm sloppy. he paints your walls white, thick ropes of cum filling you up as he fucks his load deep into your sloppy cunt.

“god—you’re all i need,” he moans, “everything i need—c-can’t lose you, never you. i love you. i love you,” he chokes, panting as he trembles in your arms with the last new waves of his high. you’re repeating the words back—and through soft sniffles, he faintly registers—while your fingers are gently threading through his hair.

and when he slips out of you, slumping onto the bed beside you as he collects you in his arms, he realizes that this is the first time he’s laid on his side of the bed since he’s come home to you.

“i love you, kento,” you say for what feels like the millionth time that night. and you think you’ll keep repeating it for as long as he needs it. “thank you for coming home to me.”

“thank you for bringing me home,” he smiles, kissing your forehead.

you kiss over his scarred skin, he brings the sheets over your bodies, and nanami kento is home. nothing’s changed.

#teepods.writings #thirstee!#fics.#nanami x reader #nanami x you #nanami angst #nanami smut #nanami kento x reader #nanami kento x you #nanami kento smut #jjk x reader #jjk x you #jjk angst #jjk smut

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2knightt · 1 year

Note

hiii I was wondering if u could do smth for the outsiders? Like Darry has a s/o who is the mother figure for the gang and often Johnny n pony call her ma / mom? I js thought it was sooo cute but if not it’s also okay dearrr

darry curtis x motherly!reader

!warnings!

1.fem!reader

2.swearing

3.probably ooc LMFAO

darry would literally love you. oh my god.

you’re caring???? you help take care of the gang??? you help ponyboy with homework???

you might as well rip his heart out of his chest cause it’s already yours!

the gang loves you, probably even more than darry does!

but to darry, that’s impossible.

you’re heaven sent to him. he truly believes you’re a miracle!

when he’s stressed out, you’re right there to help him destress!

giving him a massage, giving him tea, shit maybe even all of the above if you feel like it.

“jeez dare, stop overworking yourself so much! you’re gonna die some day because of it!”

“no i won’t, been doin’ it for so long i’ve gotten used to it.”

“thats even worse!!”

when you cook for him he will GOBBLE it up.

homie can taste the love you put in and he thinks it makes the food taste 100x better.

but even you have stressful days! but, expect darry to treat you like a princess!

he will not let you leave his bed, he is getting everything you want.

water? done. a book? already in your hand. a fucking car? he’s wasting all his money for you!

he will follow you to hell if you ask him nicely.

he just loves you so much.

when he somehow get’s hurt in rumbles he’s so glad you’re there to patch him up.

but he isn’t glad that he gets an earful from you.

“you know i hate these things. why do you out of all people go darry? you’re better than this.”

he just grumbles because he doesn’t even want to answer anything with a black eye that’s slowly forming on his right eye.

the gang is so thankful that you can patch them up too. they sometimes fight over who you’re gonna help next.

“i’m goin’ after darry!”

“SODA! YOU’VE GONE SECOND FOR LIKE 3 TIMES IN A ROW. IT’S MY TURN!!”

“PISS OFF TWO-BIT.”

“actually it’s my turn.”

“shut the hell up steve.”

“AYE!”

ponyboy’s just happy he has a mother figure in his life again. his mom was definitely his favourite parent, so now that he has someone to replicate that, he’s on the moon.

he only calls you mom or ma in private, he’s too embarrassed to say it with others in the room.

BUT, he definitely lets the mom calling slip accidentally infront of the gang.

“mom, do you need help with the dishes?”

“MOM?!”

“WHAT?!?”

pony just looks down in embarrassment until you chuckle and agree to him helping you. then he’s all smiles and sunshine!

darry is so happy to see this you don’t get it.

darry asks for advice from you to get to know ponyboy better since he rambles on and on about whatever he’s most interested in at the time.

“so uh, about ponyboy…”

“oh! he really likes ‘gone with the wind’, i know you don’t have much time to read so, i can just tell you the important stuff!”

he just nods and stares at you as you talk about the characters, the main plot, and the small details ponyboy’s obsessed with.

he’s taking mental notes and thanking you heavily when you’re finished talking!

“thank you, y/n. really. i appreciate all you do for me.”

“awe! of course, babe. anything for you.”

he’s giggling and blushing at the last sentence

he’s so thankful that you’re there to talk some sense into the gang.

sometimes he sits on the sidelines and just watches.

“DALLAS WINSTON. WHAT ON GODS GREEN EARTH WERE YOU THINKING PULLING SOMETHING LIKE THAT?!”

“I’M SORRY! JESUS.”

dallas just throws his hands in the air in defeat, knowing that no matter how much he apologizes you’ll continue to scold him.

but he listens, he doesn’t do whatever he did for awhile.

darry just chuckles at the sight.

his mom used to scold dallas like that, so seeing you do the same brought back good memories for him.

being around you just reminds him of the ‘good old days’ so when he’s around you his mood immediately lifts.

like he could be yelling at ponyboy to raise his grades and you could walk in and darry would go “AND STUDY MO- oh hey babyyy!!☺️☺️”

everyone’s eternally grateful for you.

ESPECIALLY JOHNNY GOOD LORD.

he goes to you for literally everything.

something bad happened to him?? he’s at your front door! something good happened to him??? he’s right beside you telling you about it!

yeah, he calls you mom too.

he doesn’t mean to though! he just looks up to you so much, he’s always seen you has a mother figure but he never thought he’d actually call you mom!

“hey ma, does my hair look tuff!?”

“huh?”

he’s FROZEN in place. he’s so embarrassed, he’s literally overheating.

you just giggle to yourself and say his hair does infact, look extremely tuff.

he walks away smiling with a little hop when he walks.

the gang fights over your attention with darry.

they ain’t got a good life at home, but if you give them the motherly love they’ve been missing? they will kill someone for you.

darry loves and hates this.

he loves that you and the gang get along. he can’t be with someone the gang doesn’t like, but he hates that they like you so much they talk to you 24/7.

he sometimes just snatches you while you’re talking to someone in the curtis house.

like you could be talking to sodapop and he’ll come behind you and grab you by the waist and carry you into his room.

all that while soda chases him down, yelling nonsense.

“DARRY! I WAS TALKING TO HER.”

“that’s crazy…”

overall, darry would definitely look for a mother-like lover.

he needs it fr🙏

author notes;

1.EVERYONE SHUT UP THIS IS MY FIRST REQUEST I CANT

2.when i read dear i lowkey giggled and kicked my feet

3.should i make a taglist??!!???? would literally anyone like to be tagged in my outsiders fics?!!!????

4.i really hope i did this justice LMFAO

5.btw if you’ve DMed me im not ignoring you, im working up the courage to talk to you. im a very nervous person😭😭

may 11th, 2023. 10:18PM.

#2knightt #the outsiders #the outsiders x reader #darry x reader #darry curtis x reader #darry curtis

779 notes · View notes

hischierswhore · 10 months

Text

last kiss

pairing: Lando Norris x Reader

a/n: i’ve been listening to “Last Kiss” by Taylor Swift on repeat so here’s a fic inspired by it. also (coincidentally enough) July 9th is a song reference but also the day Lando got P2, so it fits.

This was the last scenario you thought would be playing out tonight. Standing in the hallway of your flat, you were in one of Lando’s hoodies and an old pair of sweatpants that had once belonged to him but were now yours. Your hair was tied into a loose bun on the top of your head as you wrapped your arms around Lando’s torso.

“Please don’t go, Lan. Stay with me, please” You begged as you wrapped his arms around you.

“I can’t, Y/n. I have to do this” He spoke into your hair as he pressed soft kisses onto the top of your head.

“Let me go with you then” You pleaded with him, refusing to let him go.

“This is what’s best for us. Please know that I love you, I always have and I always will” He whispered as he removed his arms from you, pulling away but you somehow held onto him tighter.

You nuzzle into him, feeling an overwhelming sense of safety and security in his arms which made you never want to let go. You took in the scent that you had gotten all too familiar with, a scent that could only ever be associated with Lando & the warmth he brought you.

Lando stood there in your hold, not entirely sure what to do. Minutes passed and he felt this sweatshirt become soaked with tears; he felt like shit, but in his mind, it had to be done this way. He needed to find a way to leave before he could feel worse.

He placed his hands on your shoulders and pulled you off and he held you in place in-front of him, staring into your eyes.

“One more kiss, and then I have to go” He promised, and as much as it pained you, that would suffice until you could be with each other again.

He grabbed both of your hands and slowly pulled you in for a kiss. It wasn’t just a peck; it had more meaning to it. You melted into the kiss, savoring every last moment you’d have with Lando until- god knows when. As you pulled away, you noticed how his lips now had a slight gloss to them from the lip balm you had put on only hour before.

“I love you, Lando” You murmured as you leaned your forehead against his. He feels a deep pain hit him, and he knows it’s the guilt eating at him for doing this, but he feels like he has no other choice.

“I love you too, Y/n. Don’t ever think otherwise”

Lando eventually lets go of your hands, and before you know it, he’s waving goodbye to you as he walks out your front door. You stay in place for a moment, completely shocked at what just happened. You’d lost him, and you didn’t know when, or if, you’d get him back.

You looked at the clock as you passed the kitchen to go back to your room, likely to cry yourself to sleep. The clock said 1:58 am; that was the time of death of your relationship with Lando.

You remember running up to Lando after his P2 podium at Silverstone only a week ago. You remember his wrapping his arms around you as he lifted you off the ground, peppering you in kisses as he celebrated his home race podium with you. July 9th would forever hold a special place in your heart, a special place that was reserved for him.

You were beyond proud of him, and now you were very confused as to how your relationship shifted that much within the span of a week. Confused as to how you lost Lando.

-days later-

You sat on the floor of your bathroom as you leaned against the door, tears running down your face while the bags under your eyes somehow managed to get darker than they already were. You sat in that same hoodie from a few nights ago, the same hoodie that he said goodbye to you in. Your shaking hands lifted the fabric to your nose as you inhaled the lingering scent of him. That was all you had left of him, and the memories.

It had to have been past midnight at this point. Since that night, you’d been unable to sleep at a normal time, somehow always managing to fall asleep at 1:58am; the same time he left you. Those numbers seemed to haunt you.

You pulled out your phone and clicked on his Instagram story, wanting to see what he was up to. He appeared to be having the time of his life in Monaco with Max and Charles. He didn’t look heartbroken like you were. He didn’t look like he was affected at all.

You wanted to throw your phone across the room, wanting it to shatter to pieces but you had hope. Hope that maybe he’d come back. Hope that’d he’d accomplish all the success he wanted soon so he could come back to you quickly.

I never thought we'd have a last kiss

I never imagined we'd end like this

Your name, forever the name on my lips

Just like our last kiss

read part 2 here

taglist

@firehazardxx @judesgfirl @celestialams @xjval @lizzypotter14 @chelseagirl98

#✎ natalie writes #lando norris #lando norris x you #lando norris x reader #lando norris x y/n #lando norris angst #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic

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kaisntbreathing · 3 months

Note

Hi hi! Could I ask for adam x seraphim!female!reader, where after adam died he ended up in hell (like a reverse pentious) and its sort of angsty in the beginning because reader has taken over from adam and her and lute were close before and it's like sad bcs it's the first extermination after Adams death, and when they go down, lute is really protective of reader because girl can't go through that shit again and then they are walking down a street and reader gets tackled into a hug and lute almost kills the person BUT turns out its adam?

(Little more context I guess? Adam and reader where dating before, and reader and lute were already close but became closer. This isn't readers normal job (lutes in charge of training everyone still), and she is basically the same as sera and Emily in the fact she does courts and stuff but she chose to help with exterminations on the day off because she wants to help heal her sadness by taking it out on ppl?)

SORRY IF ITS TOO LONG XX

𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐑𝐄𝐔𝐍𝐈𝐎𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐋 ❦

𝐑𝐀𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐒𝐄 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐅𝐈𝐓 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐁𝐄 𝐒𝐎 𝐖𝐄𝐋𝐋 𝐘𝐀𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇𝐇-

𝐈 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐓 𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐏𝐓 𝐈𝐍 𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 24 𝐇𝐄𝐋𝐏-

𝐄𝐍𝐉𝐎𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐁𝐑𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐑𝐎𝐓

I LOVE YOU LILY OMG YOU HAVE SUCH A BIG BRAIN OMGOMGOMG-

BUT SERIOUSLY I LOVE THIS IDEA AND I'M ACTUALLY RLLY HIGH WHILE WRITING THIS SO HEHEHE

'۪۫❁ཻུ۪۪┊﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋﹋┊ཻུ۪۫❁۪۪'

With all the court date business with being a Seraphim and all of the stress of the exterminations is now being put on your shoulders you had the duties like the other Seraphims, there were three of you. Yourself, Emily, and Sera the three of you managed to get by but it was a lot of work you couldn't imagine how much work the archangels had to do.

And what made matters worse you were still grieving about your dead boyfriend who had died last year to the exterminations to none other than Charlie Morningstar and Lucifer Morningstar themselves and he was finished off by a lowing janitor demon who is no bigger than a child at the most.

You and Lute had been given unwanted promotions which led to more stress and work under your shoulders and on your wings.

As the next extermination was already a few days away you had to prepare you had planned to go down and kill some demons since you felt the urge to and you had been given the green light by the other Seraphims to do so you had to take out your unacquitted rage somehow.

Since it was only currently bubbling up inside of you and you knew that wasn't healthy nor was it safe since eventually you were going to bubble over and snap at somebody you don't mean to and only God knows what kind of trouble that could get you into.

As you were counting down the days till the next extermination you had been talking with your best friend Lute who you'd grown closer to since Adam's death she had taught you how to defend yourself in case something happened to you and she couldn't be by your side to protect you which probably wasn't going to happen since she had gotten very protected and very protective of you.

"One more day... One more day marks the day I lost you..."

You spoke as you looked at the picture of the two of you the first time you and Adam had hung out in a picture frame by your bed as you felt the hot stinging tears roll down your cheeks you couldn't help but choke back a sob you missed him more than anything he was the man you were supposed to spend the rest of your afterlife with.

But those plans have been rudely interrupted by none other than the king and princess of Hell you promised yourself one day you get your revenge but you knew in this current state you are nowhere near strong enough to take on Lucifer on your own.

Even as a Seraphim who could possess high power stood no match to Lucifer who was a fallen archangel only another archangel or God Almighty themself could take him down.

You were snapped out of your trance by the sound of knocking what you're doing as you snapped your head towards the door you responded letting the other person know they could come in as the figure of your friend Lute made her way back into your room as she noticed your tears as she rushed towards you bringing her self close to you pulling you into a hug quickly.

"I miss him too Y/n..."

ONE DAY LATER

It was extermination day finally as you and the rest of the exterminators along with your friend Lute flew towards the portal to Hell as you arrived at the dark dingy and ominous landscape of Hell that smelled like rot and decay, you coughed as the air was harsh and bitter to the taste as your nose scrunched up.

"It reeks here..."

"Yeah you never get used to the smell"

As you flew around the streets of Hell looking toward for any demon that you could stick your weapon into your weapon was different than the other angels you had your own weapon as a Seraphim much like an archangel that got their own weapons although there's were more customized while you only had a two-sided spear one side was sharp and smooth and the other was rigid and curved nonetheless both ends were very sharp.

Suddenly something caught your eye as you stopped and hovered as your wings folded against your back as your feet touch the pavement as you looked into a dark alleyway seeing a pair of golden eyes staring right back at you, as you tilted your head in confusion on why they weren't running instead they were running towards you.

Suddenly the demon embraced you. You were confused for a moment until he looked up at you and you immediately recognized who it was.

"A-Adam?"

"You remember me?"

"Of cou-"

"Y/N!"

You heard Lutes panicked voice behind you as you spun around trying to diffuse her anger as you shielded Adam from Lute making her stop in her tracks as she looked confused at you before you stepped away showing the demon as she dropped her own spear embracing him tightly as the three of you embraced each other.

The trio is back together.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel x reader #hazbin hotel x you #kai #xreader #requests open #adam hazbin hotel #adam x reader #hazbin hotel adam #hazbin hotel adam x reader

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genericpuff · 2 months

Note

Seeing how there only 10 episodes left do you think Rachel will rush the ending?

The way I see she needs to somehow resign Apollo reign, reawaken the God's, have Persophone defeat Kronos, have Persophone create Elysian, stop the entered winner/killing of nymphs and humans, hell we don't even know what is Leto end goal and what is her whole role in this series other than manipulating Apollo to be king. We don't even know what exactly she did with Zeus (but knowing Rachel she made Leto the other woman despite the fact she was another respectable goddess)

Imo I think Rachel is officially done done with her series and know her viewers are fed up with her constant milking of the series. You can even see it in some of her work where you know she just gave up (unless it's her self insert scenes)

On a side note another thing I should point out is the anti climax of Leuce and Thetis. Besides the fact she made Leuce another other woman the way she made Leuce expression during Persophone home Invasion made it look like she wasn't going to back down. Only for her to make be forgotten 3/4 of the final arc and is never mention again. Persophone didnt even ask Hades how does he even know Leuce. So unless Rachel has plans for her again that was the last time we saw her making that whole plot unless.

While Thetis plot.........

I'll be honest she just got a slap on a wrist and Rachel just insert Achilles as a way to bait her audience/trying to make a cultural reference. Tbh I thought Thetis would have a bigger story like fast-forward she believes she gotten everything she wanted and is now Queen only for the Trojan war occur and she only lost her status bur her son. Thus making the scene a poetic justic/tragedy.

I'll finish this off since I don't want to run my mouth about this series so here's my 2 cent. Rachel is putting to many Greek mythologies in her series that a) she has forgotten about characters b) everyone is now expecting her to have this series be all wrapped up in a nice bow when it actually be worse c) and because she has so many subplots they are left unresolved or unsatisfied

Oh, Persephone created Elysium already. It was literally just this LMAO

Okay in all honesty I don't know if that was actually meant to be Elysium, but I remember seeing people comment on the S2 finale when she was bee-burping at Kronos that she was creating Elysium at the same time as fighting Kronos and I just... yeah okay? But they literally haven't even name-dropped it since the trial. This is what I mean when I criticize Rachel's writing for depending WAY too much on reader headcanon, because not only will she just roll with whatever her fans theorize, she'll do so without actually writing it into the comic so unless you're in the FB groups and Discord, you're probably not gonna pick up on every little decision Rachel made because she's making them with half a thought and a quarter of the effort needed to express it. It means people can say whatever and she'll just take credit for it like "yeah! that was Elysium! totally! you get it! okay moving on-"

As for the Leuce thing, Hades deadass met Leuce when Zeus offered her up as a bride, which Zeus explained to Persephone during the S2 finale arc-

-but again it suffers from a lot of the same issues of Rachel not expanding on her ideas and just resolving them with some other random plot convenience. Why would Leuce be so obsessed with getting with Hades that she'd make up fake text messages? Rachel just really didn't want Hades to be interacting with other women in the 10 years that Persephone was gone, so she had to make Leuce delusional for it to work ?? Why would she go so far as to tell Hades about the text messages if they weren't real the whole time?

-but then of course before Hades can respond to this, Persephone interrupts, meaning the plotline can be put on the backburner until Rachel comes up with a solution to it-

-and then we got to see Persephone 'resolve' the issue by harassing Leuce in her home, and it was only until after THEN that Rachel finally went "no it's fine that Persephone vandalized her home, the text messages weren't real!!! see??? Leuce is just a delusional nimwit! She deserves it!"

And yeah the Thetis and Achilles thing is yet another 'plotline' that Rachel only introduced to try and legitimize her comic as a Greek myth retelling. Just about every myth she tries to portray is done vaguely and without any thought for the world they're inhabiting, it's all just lip service.

At the end of the day, a lot of the writing in LO is 1.) trying to make up for the lack of plot development in the first two seasons (hence why we're now getting sudden lore dumping about how the seasons work) and 2.) trying to make up for its lack of Greek myth set pieces because Rachel has now been openly called out for being arrogant in her 'knowledge' of Greek myth and it has people analyzing just how little Greek there is in this Greek myth "retelling". It's especially apparent in the second season when the whole thing is just self-insert fantasies about Hades and Persephone living together until the plot finally has to get moving again. Every now and then Rachel remembers that this is supposed to be a retelling, so she'll throw in some random Greek myth reference like the Colchian dragon or Aphrodite marrying Hephaestus or Thetis and Achilles.

It's very evident that Rachel never learned how to write a longform story or planned to make LO as long as it is and the story has suffered all the more for it. And it sucks because that's not the story I got onboard with back in 2019-2020, but that's where we are. Ironically, as much as I criticize LO for not having enough Greek myth influence in it, I do think the story would have been far better off if it just stayed as a cheesy office romance fluff fic. It's clearly what Rachel wanted to write but either she or WT (or both) got ahead of themselves and took on more than what LO - and Rachel - were equipped to follow through on.

#ask me anything #ama #anon ama #anon ask me anything #lore olympus critical #lo critical #anti lore olympus

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styleswithaseaview · 6 months

Note

begging for jealous tasm peter. ITS A NEED. JUST best friends to lovers 🙏🏼

thank you so much for this request i LOVED writing this. mostly light angst but fluff at the end | tasm!peter x fem!reader, 1.5k words | cw: a little bit of language and one offhanded mention of sex

Your lipstick is smudged, Peter notices. He waits a minute to tell you, not wanting that to be the first thing to say when you come out of your room. Instead, he says

“You look…” his face is contemplative and strained. His lips are pursed and his eyes are slightly squinted like he’s holding himself back; you can’t tell from what. You look down at your feet, inspecting the hem of your dress and the toes of your heels as if they’ve somehow changed since the last time you looked. “...Nice.” He clears his throat. “Clean up well.”

“Am I normally not cleaned up?” You grin at him in an attempt to restore your normal dynamic, waiting for him to make a jest at you then promptly apologize and give an overdramatic speech about how you’re the best best friend in the world to make it up to you.

He makes a noise from deep in his throat that never makes it all the way out. You think it might’ve been a laugh.

“Who’s the lucky guy?” his voice is outwardly cheery and teasing, but you know him too well. There’s the smallest trace of bitterness; his upward lilt doesn’t quite quirk up the same, and his words feel too precisely chosen as if each one takes a considerable amount of effort to say.

You search his face for a clearer indication of his intentions, but he avoids your eye contact.

“Just… a guy Lillith set me up with. You know how it’s been.” He does. You’ve complained to both him and your friend Lillith about how you haven’t gotten a date in months. You felt like guys avoided you like the plague whenever you went out, and worse, some would cancel as soon as you confirmed a date. It was miserable. “His name is Doug, uh, he’s in Kappa Delta Tau. It’s blind, I, uh, haven’t met him yet.”

He nods, eyes fiercely inspecting the wall next to you. “Your lipstick is a little smudged. Just- just there,” he motions on his own face to where the dark red pigment has bled out over your lipline. You try to get it, unsuccessfully. Peter sucks in a breath.

“Let me just…” you scurry away to the bathroom to fix it, secretly hoping, too, that when you come back the weird awkward tension between you and Peter will be diffused. You’ve lived with each other for almost a year and never had this issue until tonight. It’s throwing you off, that one-minute interaction, and your stomach almost aches with the confusion of it all.

When you return, Peter is sitting on the couch with a book in hand. It’s something complex and sciencey and you can’t tell whether he’s actively reading or if it’s just something to pass the time.

“I still have an hour. You want to turn something on?” you ask, sitting on the couch behind him and folding your legs under you. You figure your dress can handle a little wrinkling in favor of checking up on your best friend.

“Whatever you want.” He briefly glances up from his book before continuing to read.

“Uh, okay.” You flip through the channels idly, settling on a sitcom you and Peter have both seen a million times. You turn the volume down low and take a breath, trying to face the inevitable question head-on instead of worrying about it all night on your date. “Are you okay, Peter? You seem a little… off.” You try to sound as non-judgmental as possible, scooting slightly closer to Peter. He stiffens.

“I’m fine,” he says, clearing his throat again. “Are you guys, um, having dinner, or do you want me to make something? We have stuff for the pasta we never made last week.”

You breathe a sigh of relief at the relative normalcy, but there is still a palpable tension in the air.

“I don’t really know what our plans are. He said he was going to pick me up but not much else.”

“Sounds sort of sketchy, Y/N. You sure Lillith knows this guy well? I heard about that one Kappa that-”

“There’s a million different awful frat guy stories, Pete. I know. I’m well aware. Lillith knows him, I’ll be fine.” You’re trying not to get irritated with Peter but this is your one date in forever that it seems is actually going to happen, and if he freaks you out so much you refuse to go then it’s all for nothing.

“You want me to put my suit on and… keep an eye on you guys? I don’t know, just for a little, make sure nothing goes wrong.” He doesn’t meet your eye.

“No, Peter, it’s fine, I swear. I’ll be safe.”

“Call me if you feel the least bit uncomfortable. I’ll come get you. How about you text me every thirty-”

“Peter! I’m not some… some damsel in distress that you need to rescue. I’m a big girl. I don't know why all of a sudden you’re trying to control me or something. I am perfectly capable of being independent, I- This is my first date in forever, and it’s like you don’t trust my judgment and… It’s really pissing me off.” You don’t mince words, and try to pull back tears before you ruin your makeup. Peter softens a little, scooting towards you and trying to put a comforting hand on your arm. You're the one to stiffen this time.

There’s a beat as Peter decides what to say. Your tear-filled eyes meet his honey-brown ones, loaded with some sort of emotion you can’t decipher.

“I’m not trying to control you, sweetheart. I’m not. I don't- I just want to protect you.” He says, slowly, as if the words pain him to say.

“Protect me from what, Peter? Finally getting laid?”

“No, just- He’s… that Doug guy, he’s not good for you.” He grimaces, shaking his head a little bit.

“What? You don’t even know him. You’ve-you’ve never met him.” You’re nearly exasperated at this point, confused and bewildered that Peter would act like this. He won’t meet your eyes anymore. You take a big breath. “How could you possibly know he’s not good for me?”

“Because he’s not me!” Peter nearly yells, snapping his head to look at you. His response comes immediately after you, practically interrupting you with an unparalleled urgency. It’s as if a ticking time bomb had been simmering this entire time, and it was bound to explode. You’re left dumbstruck.

There’s a long stretch of silence. You open and close your mouth like a koi fish, trying to speak with nothing to say. You’ve always been in love with Peter. You’d pushed it down until it was invisible, suffocated, fit into a tiny box that only got to see the light during late nights spent crying in your room. He’s your best friend. It’s always been a want-but-can-never-have, and even if you could, you figured it was unrequited.

In short, this is new information. You don’t know what to say or how to say it, and seemingly neither does Peter.

“I…” you blubber, staring into Peter’s eyes. “I didn’t know you… I’ve always, um…” you squeeze your eyes shut as if ripping off the bandaid. “...liked you. Well, loved you, really, but I never figured-”

Peter cuts you off with a kiss that satisfies everything you’d ever wanted. It feels like something out of a movie. It rises and crescendos and before you know it you're pulling away for air. A little laugh escapes you, and Peter has the biggest grin on his face you’ve ever seen. Your foreheads are just barely touching, and he presses another small, sweet kiss to your lips.

“I love you, too, if that wasn’t clear,” Peter says. You smile.

“So I’ll cancel my date with Doug?” You ask. You think you might have stars in your eyes, or hearts that get bigger the more you stare at him.

“Fuck Doug. I don't want to hear about Doug.” Peter nuzzles your nose a little, and your stomach lurches from excitement.

“Yeah?”

“I want to hear about you. You’ve always liked me, huh?” He says a bit cockily.

“Always. I dunno, I never figured you’d reciprocate,” you reply.

“Really? I figured it was obvious. You didn’t see the drool coming out of my mouth when you walked out in that little dress?” he smirks, caressing your hip lightly. Your cheeks rouge in response.

“I was too busy looking at the anger in your eyes. Seemed like you wanted to strangle me.”

“I wanted to strangle whoever else got to see you like that. Who you dressed up for.” He kisses your neck, trailing down your exposed collarbone.

“It’s always for you, Peter. Just you. I chose this dress because I thought you’d like it,” your voice is barely a whisper, but Peter hears you. He always does.

“I love it. I love you.”

#tasm!peter parker x reader #tasm!peter x reader #tasm!peter parker #tasm spiderman #the amazing spider man #andrew garfield #andrew garfield x reader #andrew garfield x you

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luimagines · 6 months

Note

OK OK OK BUT LIKE WE GOT *HIM* REALIZING HE LIKE THEM. BUT CAN BE HAVE READER REALIZING THEY LOVE HIM?

Yeeeesss!!!!! I can't wait!! (I've been wanting to write this since I started this blog XD)

Masterlist

Part one will have Time, Twilight and Warrior.

Content under the cut!

Time

It was a quiet acknowledgement.

It was unintentional to boot. You weren't looking for anything with anyone. It was just... a bunch of little things that caught your attention.

When he'd ruffle Wind's and Twilight's hair for fun- how concentrated he'd get in the middle of battle- when he'd help braid Wild's hair to calm him down after a bad night. The quiet way he'd support Warrior from the side. Not to mention just how he leads the group causes you admire him in many ways.

And for a time that was all it was. Admiration. Nothing more, nothing less.

Then you got hurt one day. Your palm was bleeding. Nothing deadly or worrisome but it was your dominant hand. The bandages, swelling and bleeding made it difficult to do much of anything. Not to mention that you kept picking at said bandages, making them fall loose.

Time noticed and puled you aside, rewrapping your hand with grim look on his face. This felt worse, somehow. Like you've disappointed him. He looks pissed, even though he's yet to say a single thing to you.

"I'm sorry." You blurt, hoping that it'll ease whatever tension is on his face.

It doesn't work. If anything he looks angrier. "It's not your fault... I just wish I would have gotten to you sooner. this could have been avoided."

Hold up-

Your heart starts beating faster and your face warms. "Im-impossible, Time. You were so far away."

"Mmm." Time grunts, tightening the bandages once more. "Do me a favor, yeah? Get better. Stop picking at it."

He flicks your forehead playfully, smiling at last. The look... takes your breath away. It's far from perfect. But it's soft and genuine and... you've never seen him look at anyone else like that. You swallow the spit in your mouth, hoping that you're not blushing any more than you already are. "...ok..."

"Good." Time sighs and kisses your forehead. "I worry enough about you as it is."

Did your heart just stop? Hello? Anyone home?

"Thank you." You say and smile back, trying to outwardly keep calm. But on the inside you feel like screaming. Is that good or bad? You don't know yet.

Time smiles again and put his hand on your shoulder. He puts the back of his hand to your cheek and winks. "Always."

You stay there stunned and bite your lip. "...cool..."

He snorts and walks away. "Come on. Or they'll leave us behind."

"Right. I lo-" You panic. What were you about to say? Would you have meant it? I love you? Seriously? Just like that? When did this happen?

Time doesn't seem to notice and keeps walking.

Meanwhile your world just turned on its side. Then again- you've known for a while now, haven't you? It just now where it's grown too obvious to ignore anymore.

You take a deep breath and follow the man back to the group.

Maybe you'll tell him. But another day.

Twilight

Twilight was annoying. You hate to say it. But you would really like to get a grip when it came to him.

It was just some.... stupid puppy crush. There was nothing to it. It was nothing serious- but my god, did it get in the way of literally everything else.

He could say something nice or he would try and be helpful and you would be stuttering and fumbling over yourself. It was stupid. Dumb. Idiotic. You wanted to scream.

At best, you could try to avoid him, but he was so gentle. So sweet. You couldn't even be mad.

You sighed and shook your head, hitting your cheeks a few times to try and get a grip.

"You ok, Darlin'?" Twilight comes up from behind you.

You jump and whip your head around to look at him. You feel like you've been caught doing something suspicious- yet all you were doing was standing there hitting your face. "...Um... Ye-yeah. I'm fine. I'm cool! Don't worry about it."

Twilight raises an eyebrow. "Sure. And you were hitting yourself because...?"

"...I'm tired." You lie. "I feel like I'm about to fall asleep any second now."

Twilight frowns and stands a little straighter. "Everythin' alright? Had a bad night or somethin'?"

You cough and nod. "Yeah, something like that. I haven't been able to sleep well lately. I don't know why."

Yes you do. But it's fine. Totally fine.

Twilight puts the back of his hand to your forehead before either of you realize it. His fingers tips move down over your cheeks and behind your jaw. He frowns and leans in. Your breath stills completely, you think your heart stopped beating.

"Are you feeling alright?" He whispers. "I hope you're not getting sick."

You shake your head, gently taking his hand and moving it away from your face. Your attention instantly goes to the way his hand feels in your. Which is totally normal, right? "I don't think so... It just my brain not shutting up these days. I'll be ok."

Twilight leans back and you feel like you can breathe again. "Are you sure? I can help out if you need a break."

You snort. "Yeah? How?"

"I can carry you for a little bit. It's not like it costs anything."

You flush and shake your head, already feeling annoyed with yourself for not holding it together again. Naturally, you want to blame him. "No, really. I'm ok. Come on. We're being left behind."

Twilight nods and moves to walk to the group, still not looking satisfied with your answers. But then Warrior calls him over for something and with one last look to you, he leaves you behind.

It's the perfect excuse to finally break down and scream quietly. You're worse off than you thought. And he's still so sweet. And you can still feel his hand in yours and against your face and the way he looked at you and-

You whine in the back of your throat. "I think I love him."

Warrior

There was something about him that you couldn't look away from. You couldn't say for certain what it was but you liked it.

You like him, to put it simply. He was charming, funny, confident- he didn't hesitate to act and he was always there to put a smile on someone's face regardless if it was at his expense or not.

Speaking of, he kept to your side as it was pouring cats and dogs, sacrificing his scarf to hold it over your heads. You helped him as it got heavier and heavier, huddling closer to his side as it dipped and drooped.

You sigh and looked at him. "How're you holding up?"

"I might have to drop this thing, sorry." He admits quietly. And he's right. You can already see how tired his arms are getting and the scarf is soaked through already, it's not like it helping keeping either of you dry anymore.

Then again, that doesn't answer your question.

You sigh and shake your head, dropping the scarf already. The rain instantly soaks into your hair and shirt, making everything seem twice as heavy. "Do you think we'll reach the others anytime soon? Wild and Time are still behind us, right?"

Warrior sighs also dropping the scarf. Water drips down his face in an instant. "I'm no longer sure. It's too dark to make out anything directly in front of us. If anything, we might be better just sticking to one spot and waiting either for the others to catch up to us or for the storm to stop."

You hum and think about it for a moment. "Do you think there's any cave nearby to take shelter in? I know there's no lightning but I don't feel conformable taking shelter under a tree, just in case."

Warrior looks around, wiping his face free of as much water as he can. He takes your hand and point. "There's that."

It's not much, a large rock jutting out of the ground with only enough space for you both to sit under it. But it'll have to do. You nod and together you both run to the little respite in the storm.

Warrior instantly does his best to clear the area of smaller rocks and twigs for you both to sit comfortable. your heart squeezes a little at the act. He sits down, pressing his back against the rock and pulls you into his side, wrapping his arm around your shoulders. "I wish I do more..."

"This is good enough." You feel yourself growing shy at the close contact. He's never done this before... or has he? It seems so natural to him that he didn't seem to think twice- it's only now that you're noticing it.

You look down for a moment and tuck yourself closer. Warrior takes off his scarf and sets it aside. He takes off his armor and outer most layers. He's warm, you realize and his tunic is still dry. He gestures for you to do the same. Granted, you don't wear as many layers as he does, but by shedding the first one, you instantly feel better and warmer as he pulls you in closer again.

Only his form is more obvious to you this time around- and yours to him. Warrior doesn't seem bothered by it.

You however can feel yourself blushing. This seems awfully familiar to you. Have you dreamed about it before? Your heart is pounding, but it feels good. You feel happy just at the thought of this.

Hold on.... Why?

....Uh-oh.. are you crushing?

"Feel better?" Warrior whispers next to your ear and you look up at him. You bite your lip and nod, unable to hold the look for long. Warrior chuckles under his breath and rubs your shoulder comfortingly. "Good."

Oh, that laugh is going to haunt you now. You liked him. But now it's complicated.

part 2

#linked universe #linkeduniverse #linked universe x reader #lu x reader

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her-favorite · 5 months

Text

AN OATH; J. VALESKA (T-F)

JEROME VALESKA X F!READER (TWO-FACED III)

WARNINGS: typical jerome things - since this is going to be a series, i’m not going to put lengthy ‘warnings’ on all of them (since if you’ve watched the show, then you can the read a book with j’s violence) and remember, if something isn’t necessarily ‘accurate’, it’s just my characterization of him and we technically don’t know what he’d be like in a relationship so

WC: 10,143

A/N: i know you guys have been WAITING for this one 🙏🏻 i’m really hoping i didnt let any of you guys down with how this turned out 😭 also if anyone reads some of these the wrong way, this is not Barbara slander!! she’s my wife and i love her - posting this series on wattpad (jeromes-scars) if anyone wants to check it out on there!!

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 |

SUMMARY: Never expect anything rational with Jerome Valeska. He was a lunatic, a psycho. And yet, something about him captivates you. As you consider your options, you’re left in a crossroads. Time will only tell what your answer will be…

Click. Click. Click.

Consistent tapping of card stock against another rang in your ears. The sun blared into the open room violently, harming your eyes. The tapping on the other side of the room hadn’t stopped for what feels like hours, but you were sure it must’ve been at least twenty minutes. Irritated noises sounded from the same corner but you’ve been acting as if you were asleep the entire time, you can’t give up now. Though, you weren’t sure how much time you’d have left before he would wake you up.

The bed underneath you was soft, probably memory foam. You’ve yet to move from your spot ever since you had been told to lay in it last night. You’d be lying if you said that you had gotten any sort of sleep last night. Your thoughts kept you up and the fact you had been sleeping in the same bed, on the same mattress as a murderer wasn’t a very comforting thought to fall asleep to.

Jim was looking for you, you felt it in your heart. He always looked to you as someone to take care of, to protect when you were too vulnerable. He was always there when things would get to be too difficult and Jim would sit there and talk with you any time that you asked. You knew of Jim’s predicament between Barbara and Lee and, though he was never one to talk about his feelings, you somehow managed to make him feel comfortable enough to speak to you about the situation. Jim Gordon was like a father to you, and you his daughter.

That thought alone made you have to suppress tears that had formed behind your eyelids as you could practically hear Jim’s demanding voice yelling at cops at the GCPD to find you and to search the whole city for your whereabouts. You managed to have little hope last night as you stayed up trying to think of a way to escape the maniac that was currently holding you captive, and even with the training from the greatest cop in the city, Jerome was too far ahead. He somehow knew every thought you were going to think and it worried you how much he truly knew about you, if he had done any background searches and had somehow found childhood stories or worse, if he had been stalking you while he waited to make his first appearance.

You mentally sighed as you knew that you weren’t going to be able to pretend to be asleep for much longer without him realizing you’ve been awake the entire time. Blinking your eyes open, still trying to get used to the bright rays shining inside, your body shifts lightly on the bed.

Instantly, the clicking stops.

Your heart sped up just slightly as the room was engulfed in silence so suddenly. You tried to stop the argument that you were having with yourself as you sat up, purposely ignoring the creaks coming from in front of you and looking over at the window as clouds roll in over the sun.

“Sleeping beauty’s awake!” A cheerful voice exclaimed, fully breaking you out of your daze. Though, you should’ve expected it, a small flinch was your reaction. “I’ve been waiting forever for you to wake up.” The man rounds the corner and stands in your line of vision, making you look up at him. “That’s if, you’ve actually been asleep.” The smirk on his face lightens his features as it seems to split across his lips.

“C’mon, doll, we got a busy day ahead of us!” Without any sort of warning, a pale hand reaches out and grabs yours, pulling you up from the bed and into his arms. Your breath hitched in your throat at the impulsive action, your wrists starting to ache at his firm grip on them. “Hi, gorgeous. Fancy seeing you here.” A loud, boisterous laugh sounded from the man, making your ears hurt. If you had your hands free you would’ve put them over your ears to drown out the heinous sound.

Jerome lets go of one of your wrists but keeps a tight hold on your other. “First, we’re gonna go downstairs, have some food, maybe. Then,” he walks back over to a desk that sat in the corner of the room. “Oh, I need these!” His free hand reaches forward and grabs a stack of cards, flicking some through his finger until one flew out onto the desk. “There you are..” His voice was low as a wide smile grew on his face. He stuffs the deck in his pocket as his fingers reach back over to grab the lone card. The one you wished you hadn’t seen.

The Joker Card.

You wished you protested more. Maybe, just maybe he would’ve listened. The air was tense in the vast room as Jerome sat beside you, stuffing his face with the breakfast buffet that was presenting itself on the table. You sat still as you tried to ignore the uncomfortable silence and the teasing stare from Barbara Kean that sat across from you. Another woman sat beside her, but you hadn’t been introduced to her yet, and she wasn’t in the line up of the criminals that had ‘broken out’.

“So,” The blonde broke the silence as she rested her chin on her hand, moving forward and leaning her elbow on the table. “What’s this?” She looks between the both of you. Without having to glance over at him, you knew Jerome was still putting handfuls of food in his mouth, the gross sound of him chewing echoed in your ear.

“Wait a second,” Barbara paused as a smirk began to form on her lips. “I know you..” She searches you over and then gasps, putting a hand over her mouth dramatically, “You worked with Jim.” A giggle escaped her mouth as she spoke, “Funny seeing you here, huh?” She leans forward again, resting both of her arms on the table and watching you intently. You knew better than to give her a reaction as you sat still, listening to what she had to say.

“Well? You gonna answer me?” She breaks the heated eye contact first, switching between the both of you. The woman beside her doesn’t seem all that interested in the conversation as she only looks up once or twice before fiddling with the whip in her hands.

“None of your business, blondie.” Jerome finally looked up from his plate of food, almost all of it gone, with a sinister glare on his face. “Want some, gorgeous?” His demeanor changes with a snap of his fingers as he looks over at you, plunging his fork into a pancake, offering it over toward you. Before he could pull it over the table, sticky syrup still hanging off of the snack, you shake your head in response. He shrugs, “More for me.” Those same disgusting sounds resurface.

“C’mon, ginger. Once Theo finds out you brought a cop into this mess,” Barbara leans back in her chair and looks over at the woman next to her, giving her a certain expression.

“He’ll let me deal with you.” The woman finished the blonde’s sentence as the dark haired girl stares forward at the ginger. The whip cracked in her hand making Barbara smile as she glanced over at it.

Nothing in this world could ever make you flinch as bad as that laugh. It’s loud and irritating and painful to listen to as it screams in your ear, reverberating against the walls. It stung as it seemed to replay in your head, quickly forming a headache. With a flat palm against the glass surface of the table, Jerome leans back in his chair and cackles until it sounds like it hurts. He probably likes the pain.

“Oh, wow! Didn’t know,” Another cackle cut himself off, ending in a harsh wheeze. “Didn’t know you had that in ya, Tabby!” He playfully wipes a tear from his eye and rests his other hand on his stomach as if he’s trying to soothe the ache from laughing so hard. “Wasn’t that funny, sugar?” Another sharp laugh sounded from him as he animatedly tries to calm himself down.

You’ve realized, even over the coarse of just a little over an hour, that Jerome hasn’t once called you by your name. Had it been a subconscious thing of his? Does he do it to get on your nerves?

An irritated eye roll was the response from the woman across the table. Her chair screeched as she pushed it away from the table and stood up, her whip ready in her hand. Before she walked away, she turned towards Barbara and asked, “I’m gonna blow off some steam. You comin’?” She must’ve had a certain look in her eye with the way the blonde had agreed. The taller woman took her hand forcefully and pulled her out of the room, not without a small giggle from Kean, as her whip dragged across the floor.

Once the clicking of her heels faded out of the doorway and down the hall, Jerome looked over at you with a wicked smile. Not once have you figured out what his plan was. You were hoping that he’d bring the topic back up again since he hadn’t finished explaining before he brought you downstairs. Something with playing cards.. right?

“You ready for today, toots? It’s gonna be a roller coaster.” He giggles and gets up from his chair, the same loud screeching noise invading the silence again. He held out his hand, politely waiting for you to take it. You knew you should take it, maybe if you played along for a little while, navigate your way through the building, you could find your way out. With that little hope in the back of your head, you accept the offer of his hand and stand up from the chair.

As he pulled you up the stairs towards his room, you’re lost in thought, trying to reclaim every single detail from yesterday. Even with Jerome’s consistent mumbling, you ignore him as your mind goes as far as to recall when you had woken up tied to that chair with Jerome standing above you. He kept teasing you, he had killed Robert Greenwood, and then.. you were blanking. Your memories had vanished once Jerome had stopped walking and snapped his long fingers in front of your face.

“Hellooo? You in there?” With a few scattered blinks, you shake your head lightly to bring yourself back to reality.

“Yeah,” You take a deep breath before finishing, “I’m here.” Though, you wished you hadn’t been.

“Goodie! C’mon, doll, I told you we had a busy day ahead of us!” Jerome grabs your hand and sprints into his room. He sits you down on the edge of the bed and then walks over to an armoire that sat by the wall. Jerome opens the doors and sorts through the clothes, mumbling to himself, “no,” “too tacky,” “hm, maybe.” As he does so, you run your eyes over his stature, only now realizing that he had been wearing a long, red silky robe with blue pajamas underneath. Soft slippers held his feet as they were a little too small for him. Now that you had thought about outfits, you quickly looked down at yours. Your police uniform was gone. In its place was a long sleeved plaid sweater with random black sweatpants.

“You look cute in my clothes, doll face.” You look up when you hear his teasing tone, catching the wink he sent you before he turned back around and picked up a hanger from inside the closet.

Had he changed you? With your mind foggy, you realized that you must’ve fell asleep at some point. The headache from before came back full force as you tried to recall everything that had happened in that past 24 hours. You didn’t know why you couldn’t remember everything clearly, why you were so caught up in yourself. You rub your eyes as if it’ll help you remember everything.

“What is my doll gonna wear today.. hm,” he puts his finger on his chin as he thinks. You quickly try to think of something to intrigue him, truly not wanting him to pick your outfit. Who knew what was going through that maniacs head.

“Why am I here, Jerome? I mean, why am I still here?” You get up from the bed slowly, almost like you were trying to not scare away a cat. “You could’ve killed me back at the GCPD, but you didn’t. Why do you want me here?” You take a step forward, still wary of him. You were unsure of what the man was truly capable of and you were completely against seeing what he was.

The ginger tried to show no reaction as he stared off, but you noticed the way his breath seemed to hitch in his throat and the barely there picked up pace of his chest moving up and down. Mentally debating if you should keep talking, you gave him a second to adjust to the sudden question. His true origins were still yet to reveal to you. He obviously despised his mother, killing her on a hill and laughing about it. From the threats surrounding his supposed brother, he didn’t seem a fan of him either. You had yet to know what his childhood and his life was actually like. You wondered if he would ever tell you.

“Barbara might have some clothes in her room. Go look.” Jerome’s voice was heavy as he talked and he turned around, avoiding your gaze. He walked past you as he made his way back to his desk.

Rifling with objects inside a drawer, he waits for you to follow his orders. “I said go look.” You took note of the way his jaw clenched tightly and the how he tries to distract himself instead of thinking about your questions. “Go fucking look!” Jerome exclaims, motioning to the door. Even though you were used to the yelling that went around the precinct, the way Jerome had done it sent a chill down your spine. It was malicious and frankly, it was frightening.

Maybe you could find a way out if you were to try and find Jim’s former lover’s room. Without so much as a nod, you walk away and out of the door frame. The rustling seemed to stop but the clicking of the cards began again. Your hand glided across the smooth wall as you wandered down the deserted hallway. A long window was placed at the end of it, giving you a view of the city. Once you reached it, you took a moment to let your eyes search as much as you could.

The recording. It came back to you.

Jerome had been videoing himself after he shot Greenwood yesterday, before he took you here. His face was bloody from your collision and the residue from shooting the other man. When Jerome was finished speaking to the camera lens, he switched it over to you. You hadn’t spoke, but nodded to one of the ginger’s questions. Jim will know, you remember thinking that.

Jim knew about your conversation in the interrogation room that day. And though he was upset to hear about you kissing Jerome, there wasn’t anything either of you could’ve done about it then. Jim was probably scouring the city looking for you right now. The thought brought a sad smile to your face as you realized how much you missed being out in the daylight.

Without trying to dwell on it for much longer, you turn down into a random doorway, hoping that it would be one of the women’s rooms. Your eyes search the area, focusing on an identical wardrobe that was also in Jerome’s room. Hesitant at first, aware that there could be anything in this room, or anyone, that could pop out at you and risk your safety. After a few steps, you quicken your pace and make your way closer to the armoire.

The creak that sounded from the doors made you cringe, the awful noise echoing in your ears. As you search through the clothes, you pick the first thing that caught your eye, something simple. What was Jerome’s plan? Was he going to take you outside and teasingly flaunt you to the GCPD just for his amusement? Maybe then you could make a run for it, threaten him somehow.

All sorts of strategies and ideas combat in your mind as you reach in and pick out an outfit that seemed comfortable enough, and hopefully good for the weather, that is if he decides to be kind and let you get fresh air. You turn around with the fabric in your hands and wandered a bit in search for a bathroom to change in. A small connected room was in the same bedroom, flicking the light on and watching the room illuminate. As you close the door behind you, you finally, for the first time in twenty four hours, feel alone. Resting your head back against it, you breathe evenly, clutching the clothes tightly in your hands.

Once you grew comfortable with the silence, you get up and look into the mirror. With an empty mind, your hand reached up to your neck, ghosting your fingertips over the faint bruise that was starting to form. As you subconsciously swallowed, you noticed how sore your throat felt inside. You were embarrassed as you remembered what you let him do to you and the way you gave in so easily.

Trying not to let those thoughts plague you, you start to peel off the clothing that the man had put on you. You took your time replacing each fabric, at the same time trying to think of escape routes and what Jerome could possibly have planned for today.

Finally, as you straighten out your shirt, you jump when you suddenly hear a harsh knock on the door beside you. “Almost done, doll? We’re on a tight schedule today!” His loud, cheerful voice boomed through the door, invading the silence that once lingered.

Taking a deep breath, you try to compose yourself. While you were changing, you were thinking about ways to go along with his madness. Maybe if you pretend that he convinced you to turn over a new leaf and follow his actions, he’ll believe you and put his trust in you. If you try and act as if you don’t follow the GCPD anymore, maybe you’ll get lucky?

As you turn the doorknob, Jerome stands outside with a smile on his face. “Finally! Thought you died in there.” He laughs dramatically and you have to stop yourself from grimacing at the loud sound. “C’mon little miss detective, we got some work to do!” Never mind.

He grabs your hand and drags you of the bathroom and down the hall. He didn’t seem agitated anymore, acting as if his small outburst didn’t happen. That might be a good thing for you, to not let him dwell on it. The last thing you needed is to have Jerome angry at you. Even at the time, you knew that asking that question wasn’t a good idea, even if you truly do want to know the answer. With the mans sociopathic tendencies, no one knew what he was capable of, what he could truly do to you. And though you do have police training and you were sure that if Jerome were to try and fight you, you could counteract him, but with his impulsive decisions it’s difficult to know his next move, you were almost sure that he never did either.

As he pulled you along, you tried to think of any possible place he’s going to take you to. Checking off as many locations as you could, the last place you expected was the exact one he went to. You shouldn’t be surprised with him anymore.

The room was quiet as you waited.

When you arrived at the apartment complex and had followed Jerome up the stairs to a certain room he was looking for, you felt your breath hitch at the sight of the name on the door: Paul Cicero. You should’ve known he would come for his father.

Jerome opened the door and let you walk in first, a teasing smile on his face the entire time. You roamed around the room as you hear the door click shut behind you. No sign of any pictures relating to Jerome or his brother resided anywhere. Your fingers ghosted over the wooden counter as your eyes look over the arrangement of spices and utensils.

“Listen to me, baby,” Jerome’s voice cuts you out of your thoughts and when you look up to see where he was, you were surprised to see him just inches away from you. “When you hear that door open, I want you to go silent.” He orders, his eyes never daring to look away from yours. “This is gonna be fun.” He smiles devilishly and grabs your hand again, leading you over towards the other side of the room.

Only a few minutes pass until the door creaks and opens wide. Taps of shoes hit against the floor as the older man walks in, his cane swaying beside him. Not too long after he shuts the door, he freezes and calls out, “who’s there?” Jerome stays hidden, but the smile gave away his feelings. “I know someone’s there-“ You backed away suddenly when Jerome moved forward and wrapped a rope around his father’s neck. You tried to reach forward, your instincts coming to play, and help him, but with Jerome’s free hand, he tightly grabs your hip and pulls you behind him, limiting your reach.

“Hiya, pops. Long time.. no see.” A sinister laugh left Jerome’s mouth as he finished his sentence, tightening his grip as his one hand held either end of the rope. It reverberated in your mind until you realized that Jerome had tied his father to a chair with a cloth over his mouth.

“So, how you doin’?” Jerome rasps as he sits in a chair across from his father. You stood by the counter, a few feet away from them. It felt terrible to watch, all of it was against your moral code and especially with the oath you took to being a cop, watching this and not doing anything to stop it or to help the injured man was wrong. But that one thought in the back of your head that was trying to convince you that Jerome wasn’t going to hurt him, he was his father for fucks sake. And then you remember how you got into this mess.

“The silent treatment, huh? Hey, I’ll tell ya a story.” Jerome continues, having a one sided conversation with the man across from him. “You remember Kansas city, dad. The circus went through town every spring, right around my birthday.” His voice grows deeper as he talks, his emotions revealing themselves.

“There was this guy. Him and my mom used to drink and.. fornicate and beat the crap out of me. They’d make a whole night out of it. And I remember one time,” He put his hands out and started to get up from his chair slowly, keeping eye contact with Mr. Cicero.

“It was my ninth birthday, him and my mom had just finished round one of boozing, boning, beating up Jerome and decided to take a little break.” Jerome explains it in a way so casual, showing that he had grown accustomed to the abuse from his mother. “Anyway,” He turns and leans toward the table in front of you, picking up a knife and inspecting it as he talks.

“I was outside the trailer and you were there. And you said, “why are you crying, Jerome?”” He pauses and acts as if he’s going to cry. “It’s my birthday.. and my mom and the snake guy are beating me.” He made his voice higher, impersonating his younger self.

“And then you said, “this world doesn’t care about you or anyone else, Jerome. Better to realize that now.”” With his voice deeper and raspier pretending to be his father, the tone sent chills down your spine. Jerome pauses before continuing, “And that was it.” He looks over at his dad with a large smile.

“You see, there’s this guy, dad, he believes in me, he thinks I’m gonna be a star!” Jerome exclaims and rushed over to the man tied to the chair, pointing the knife at him dangerously. “And tonight.. all of Gotham will see that, too. Expect for you because you’ll be, well, ya know, dead.” Had it been in any other situation, you would’ve laughed. But you were about to witness a murder before your eyes.

Jerome reaches behind Paul and undoes the cloth that was knotted behind his head. Mr. Cicero began to plead with his son, but Jerome quickly shut it down, his anger coming to the surface. You watch them converse, or rather argue, about something, but Jerome’s words linger in the back of your head. He was abused? How come that was never in his file? How had that not been revealed to you?

An hysteric laugh cut you out of your thoughts. “That’s not why I’m gonna kill you!” Jerome smiles widely and turns back around, facing the table. With the knife still in one hand, he reaches the other forward and holds up blueprints. “Plans to Arkham Asylum,” he lets it fall from his hold, showing it to his father. Picking up something else, he turns around and shows him again, “And look at these, oh,” he walks over to Mr. Cicero and brushes the material against his cheek. “Letters between you and your troubled son. Innocent at first glance, but Detective Gordon, you remember him, right? You’ll feel little bumps.. a secret message, written in braille between you and your son discussing my escape!” He throws the envelopes and extends his arms out, regaining his energy and smiling happily.

Jerome makes his way back to the table and grabs a can off of it. “Finally, the knockout gas, used to disable the orderlies!” He moves it around before setting it back down. Walking back over to his father be speaks, “Cause you see, dad,” Jerome picks up the chair he was sitting in before. “This guy I was telling you about,” he places the chair down in front of Paul. “He’s the one who broke me out of Arkham. He doesn’t want anyone to know about that.” Jerome sits down on the backwards chair, not before looking back at you with a wink after he finished talking. Your jaw clenches as you let his words soak in.

“The police will find these letters and they’ll think, “the blind old fool really loved his son, what a wonderful father. Oh, there won’t be a dry eye in the house.”” Jerome takes his dads tie and lightly dabs his cheeks, pretending to wipe away tears.

“They’ll never believe it.” Mr. Cicero denies.

“Oh, sure they will,” Jerome shrugs nonchalantly. “Cops are dumb.” He pauses before straightening out in his chair and looking back at you. “Besides you, gorgeous.” He smiles in a charming manner and sends you another teasing wink, finding it amusing in the way you react.

“Oh, would’ja look at that?” He giggles at his joke and gestures towards the clock. “We gotta go, doll!” He gets up from his chair and moves it out of the way. “Sorry you’re gonna miss my big night, dad. Hey, you’re psychic. So tell me.. do I kill?”

Mr. Cicero inhales sharply and a vicious look overtakes his features as he responds, “You will be a curse upon Gotham. Children will wake from sleep screaming at the thought of you. Your legacy will be death and madness.”

Jerome smiles wickedly and leans down to the side of his fathers face. With a menacing whisper that sends chills down your spine, you hear,

“Ha. Ha. Ha.”

Moving away and grabbing Paul tightly, Jerome wraps up the meeting. “Welp, say hi to mom for me.” Before you could try to stop him as you rush over, Jerome lifts his arm and throws it down to connect his blade with his fathers eye.

Knock. Knock.

Jerome freezes, as do you. The ginger places a hand over Paul’s mouth to silence any pleas.

“GCPD.” Jim. That was Jim. You could go out there now and tell him that you were okay, that you didn’t need him to worry anymore. But something inside you prevented that. You didn’t know what it was and it made you feel sick. In that moment, the thought of staying with Jerome was an actual option. It made you feel nauseous.

Another knock sounded from behind the door. “GCPD. Mr. Cicero, it’s Detective Gordon. We need to speak with you about your son.” You look back over at Jerome, noticing that he was already watching you. He had a hard stare on his face as he notices the way you hesitate. Taking a deep breath, you nod your head slowly, telling him that you weren’t going to leave. The furrow in his eyebrows undoes itself and a wide smile grows on his face.

“Mr. Cicero?” At that exact moment, Jerome quickly plunges the blade through his fathers eye as Paul cries out in agony. With a quiet giggle from the ginger, he rushes away and grips your hand, pulling you out of the open window. Before he steps foot outside the frame, he digs his fingers into his pocket and pulls out a card. Tossing it to the floor as it lands over by his father, the figure on the card stock standing out.

The Joker.

It was perfect timing for Jerome as he turns the corner, watching Jim pull Harvey out of the room, the blue knockout gas floating out of the doorway. Collapsing to the floor, Jim leans against the wall, trying to catch his breath. As Jerome starts to whistle, he walks down the hallway toward the two. You watch with an anxious heart, your feet feeling like they were planted to the floor and your mouth sewed shut.

“Detective Gordon, old pal.” Jerome speaks, crouching down beside the cop. “That gas sure packs a-“ Jerome sighs as he stops Jim from trying to hit him. He takes the gun from the detective as Jim loses his balance and falls against him. “That’s cute.” Jerome mocks, but was quickly cut off when Jim mustered up enough strength and pushed him up against the wall.

With Jim’s hand around Jerome’s neck, he rasps playfully, “I’m sensing.. anger.”

“You killed Sarah Essen.” Jim says with a heavy tone. Jerome killed your boss? Was it before you had woken up? How did he never tell you? Jerome smiles at the truth, nodding his head as much as he could.

“Now I’m gonna kill you.” You should stop this. Stop this fight, one of them may die, Jerome still has the gun. As soon as you move forward a step or two, Jerome lifts up his arm to press the barrel of the gun against Jim’s head.

“Jerome!” You shout instinctively. So many people have died already, the last person you wanted to see shot was Jim Gordon. He was all you had left.

Jerome’s head shot over to look at you, caught off guard by your shout. Jim followed at the sound of your voice, his face softening as he realized that you were okay. Before he could do anything, Jerome hit him on the side of the head with the gun, knocking him unconscious. Before he fell into a sleep, you just barely heard him whisper, “Y/N.” You felt a piece of your heart shatter for the first time in a while.

“Ugh, c’mon, doll!” Jerome groans and stands up, brushing off his knees. “Never let me have any fun.” He pouts dramatically, looking over at you with his own version of puppy eyes. You didn’t know what reaction he was expecting of you as you stood there, taking glances over at the two men that you cared for knocked out on the floor before you.

“This is just the beginning, baby. Soon, I’ll be the King of Gotham with you beside me as my Queen.” Jerome smiles with genuine happiness, walking over to you. You couldn’t completely tell yet, but you were almost one hundred percent sure that Jerome had placed his trust in you, something that would clearly be difficult for someone like him, and you truly didn’t know why he chose you… and you truly didn’t know why you started to reciprocate it.

“You’ll see, doll. Everyone will see.”

Once you both made it back to Theo Galavan’s house, he brought you back to his room almost like it was a reflex. “Busy day, doll, busy day.” Jerome would mutter or occasionally sing. He had his hand in yours, swinging it back forth slightly, whether it was a subconscious thing or not.

It was obvious how much Jerome craved the physical contact, as you wouldn’t be able to recall the amount of times he’s held your hand today. His palms were slightly rough, you were sure it was because of his days at the circus, working day and night, traveling to so many places. You noticed that freckles had littered his arms and lead up to his hand, scattered on his pale skin. The orange hair that rested on his arm was barely visible, his adorning marks seeming to take the spotlight.

Taking you by surprise, Jerome stops abruptly and pulls you close to him. His left hand never leaves yours as his opposite takes hold of your hip. With a sharp intake of air, you look up at him, trying to figure out what he was going to do.

The hand that was holding yours moved it up in a position that looked like you were about to dance. You were proved right when Jerome took a step forward, placing your other hand on his shoulder and moving with you. It wasn’t an award worthy performance, but Jerome seemed to have fun.

“Was thinking about what you said earlier, beautiful.” He breaks the silence and looks down at you, stepping back as you followed. “And since I plan to make you my Queen,” he trails off and shrugs, “I guess you’d want an explanation as to why you’re here.” His hand tightens ever so slightly in yours. “I see something within you, doll.. that same glint that was in my eyes when I planned to murder Lila.” He spits out the last word with malice, showing that even just saying her name rose anger inside him.

You opened your mouth to protest his statement, but he makes sure to speak first. “Ah, ah, let me finish.” He sways his body lightly, still moving in step with you. “We can rule this city, just you and me. Everyone will be under our control.” Jerome smiles widely, showing his teeth. “You know you want it, baby, don’t try and deny it.” He twirls you and then quickly pulls you back toward him, into his chest.

“Jerome,” your mind went blank as you tried to think of how to refuse his words. Everything felt constricting, like just this little time of you dancing with him was narrowing down your chances for a future. You’re a cop, that’s what you were always going to be. You couldn’t hand over your life over to this maniac as he tries to convince you while he serenades you. If you agreed to this, your life would be over. What would happen when Jerome would get on someone’s bad side and they decided they needed him gone? What would be the point continuing this madness if the reason you started wasn’t there anymore? Once you realized that you began to consider it, you berated and cursed yourself for even taking the second to even think of it as a decision. Besides, how could you leave Jim? He taught you everything about being a good cop, he was there every step of the way. How could you abandon him now?

“Shh, doll, I can hear your thoughts from here.” Jerome keeps swaying, leaning forward and whispering in your ear. His voice snaps you out of your options, blinking at the sudden intrusion. His hand leaves your hip and rests on the back of your head, pushing on it gently to lean it against his chest. “Just imagine it, sugar. We’ll run this city and make it better- or, well, worse. We can do whatever we want, whenever we want without any consequences because we’ll be the ones making the rules.” Jerome doesn’t stop moving once, the actions seeming to spur him on more. He was never one to slow down.

“All you have to do is say yes.” He whispers.

All you have to do is say yes.

The room was buzzing with chatter, the area filled with people. Women and men were dressed in their finest attire as they conversed with each other, some laughing and others smiling.

You stood in a long dress, looking around the vast room. You were told to blend in with the others in the room as you were given the clothes to wear to match. A mask was placed over your eyes, it looked similar to one you’d see at a masquerade ball. It was the same color as your dress, a dull, dark blue. Jerome didn’t want it vibrant, he had hinted to you that he had some sort of plan in mind for you, but he never told you what it was or when he was going to put it into action.

Before you both had left to make your way over to the event, Jerome had stopped you before you could walk away. He took your hip in one hand and held your neck, not in a hostile way, he just wanted to feel your skin under his hand. His eye contact with you never failed to make goosebumps form on your skin. When he broke the silence between you both, he said, “Think about what I said.” He whispered before continuing, “We will be worshiped. Just give in to me.” Jerome smiles that crazed grin at you and then walks away.

For the half an hour you’ve been standing here, you’ve reviewed your options millions of times. It made you feel sick that you actually considered the life that Jerome could give you. Even if he didn’t say it, he did care for you. And you were sure that wasn’t an easy thing to admit, especially with a personality like his.

If you go with Jerome, so many things could backfire. What if he was leading you on and decided to throw you away once he persuaded you to agree? What if you die a villain in your story? You became a cop because you wanted to help others, not hurt them. All of the things Jerome stands for are the exact thing you don’t. He thinks it’s entertaining to watch people die, to kill them with no remorse. He thinks there aren’t any consequences for some of the things he does and you’d be lying if you said that there wasn’t a little spark of worry inside you that, that could be the reason he might die some day.

But if you went with your gut and stayed true to yourself.. you weren’t sure where it could lead you. Would you still be offered your same job? What happens when they find out you hadn’t tried to escape from the lunatic and they fire you without any notice? There’s zero possibility that you’d be able to make it anywhere else in this city. Worst of all, Jim may never speak to you again. You knew that you wouldn’t be able to live with that.

As you stood in the back, you observed the room. The stage was empty of people, the tables and chairs occupied by wealthy couples, and.. Bruce Wayne? Your shoulders dropped as well as your heart.

“First, I’m gonna kill Bruce Wayne..” Jerome’s words from last night had rang in your head like a chime. Your breathing altered slightly, your chest moving up and down faster. Against your better judgment, you began taking quiet, smooth steps over to the boy. He stood next to an older man as they looked forward at the stage. As soon as you became just a few feet away from the billionaire boy, a voice echoed through the room.

“Good evening. I’m Dr. Lee Tompkins.” Your head immediately looked over at the stage. You knew her.. the Medical Examiner, Jim’s girlfriend. Your mind tries to figure out how Jerome ties into this, until you hear, “Over the years, we had magicians come in and entertain our children. So, tonight, we have one of the magicians here for you. Without further ado, please allow me to present to you.. The Great Rudolpho.” Lee smiles and the stage light travels over to a box with a woman in a pink tutu and mask, similar to yours, standing in front of it.

As she opens the box, she feigns surprise once she notices it was empty. When she closes it and stalls for a second, she opens the box again, a man inside it now. He yawns and then gasps once he realizes everyone can see him. The crowd laughs at the man’s actions and claps.

If it were possible, you felt your heart sink even lower than it already was. Jerome had a handsome suit on with a fake beard and mustache, a big hat and an eye mask on his face.

“Greetings, ladies and germs! I am, indeed, the Great Rudolpho!” His accent was strange, it felt wrong in your ears compared to his normal voice. He bows, as well as the woman. Your gaze follows the woman as you look her up and down, trying to shake the familiarity that she has. Your head moved to look at the floor and your eyes fell shut as you realized.. Barbara Kean.

When you look back up, a bird flies through the crowd. A red cloth was in Jerome’s hand, signaling to you that he was the one that did it.

“For my first act, I’ll require a volunteer!” His voice rang out into the crowd through the microphone. “Let me see,” he looks away from everyone and points his finger as he says, “Duck, duck, duck.. duck, duck, duck.. goose.” He points forward, just a few feet away from you. His gaze returns as he stares towards where his finger was pointed. You quickly look to your left as you see Bruce Wayne’s perplexed expression. The man had whispered something to the boy as the assistant, Barbara made her way toward him and offered out her hand for him to take.

You couldn’t let Jerome kill him, let alone on a stage in front of a crowd of people. You needed to stop this, to reach out and pull him away from Barbara so he couldn’t take her hand, because that act itself might cost him his life.

Hesitantly, Bruce accepted her hand, following her as she walked away. You walked forward impulsively, about to reach out to try and grab one of them, but before you could, Barbara turned around and sent you a wink from under her mask. It made you freeze since you weren’t expecting it, and once you broke out of it, you realized that the two were already on stage.

“Hello, young man.” Jerome was standing beside a box that was lying down on a table. Your eyes widened when you saw what it truly was and you suddenly felt nauseous. Your mouth opened just slightly, but it was enough to catch the man’s attention. As Jerome grabbed the large blades, he gave you a slow, small nod, the same kind that you did to him when Jim was knocking on Mr. Cicero’s door.

“Well, Bruce, this won’t hurt a bit.” Jerome clashes the metal together, a loud, reverberating sound that stung your ears. “Is there a doctor in the house?” The crowd laughs at his words, but your head turns once you hear the older man beside you begin to protest, obviously nervous for the boy’s safety. Without any hesitation, Jerome slides the blades through the box, making you flinch. They pull the box apart, showing you - and the man - that Bruce was okay. You let out a sigh of relief involuntarily, matching with the man beside you.

Barbara took Bruce back to his guardian and then stayed put, waiting for Jerome to keep talking. “Now, for this other trick, we’re gonna need a new volunteer!” He shouts, a smile on his face. He pretends to look around before stopping and gasping. “Well, look at that! What’s a gorgeous girl like you doing in a place like this?” Barbara walks a few steps before holding out her hand with a smirk. You try to hide your reaction, but your eyes widen slightly. Is this what he was planning?

Knowing no better way to get out of this, you take her hand. The room watched you two closely and you felt the eyes from Bruce Wayne and his butler watching.

Barbara smiles and begins walking back over to the stage, taking you with her. Both of your heels clicked on the floor, filling the silent room. She let you walk up the stairs first before following after you. You hesitantly make your way towards Jerome, the smile bright as ever on his face. The beard and mask did wonders to hide his identity as you grow closer.

“Who do we have under that mask?” His accent was louder as you neared him. Was this apart of his act? Some sort of trick that he’d ‘guess’ who you were and stun the others?

Jerome circles you once before standing back in front of you, that infamous grin on his face never wavering. He lifts his hand and places it on your chin, turning your head every which way, the exaggerated action producing laughs from the crowd. He hums and takes his hand away, playfully stroking his beard. A quiet, barely audible gasp was heard from the crowd, but you knew that the only people that could hear it was you and Jerome. His smirk widens as the small noise brushes by his ears.

As quick as you could, your eyes dart out to the people, trying to figure out who it was. Your eyes caught the two in the back, Lee now gone from behind them (did Jerome have something to do with that or was she just grabbing a water?), and Bruce’s mouth agape. He mumbled something to the older man as he looks your way, seeming to have recognized who you were, even from behind the mask. The video Jerome made must’ve been aired on the news that night, that’s the only possible way he’d know.

“I think I know ya from somewhere! Yeah.. I think I saw ya on the TV at some point.” Jerome taps his chin as he looks off, pretending to think. “Well, gorgeous,” he walks closer and grabs your hand gently, raising it to his lips and says, “Why don’t’cha stay up here for a while, huh?” He kisses your hand and looks back over at the crowd, shouting out, “Who agrees?” Cheers and hollers are heard from the crowd as Jerome lifts up your arm slightly, showing you off. You feel goosebumps raise on your skin at the attention, deciding to avert your gaze to the man beside you. “You’re gonna love what’s to come, doll face.” Jerome whispers teasingly and leads you toward Barbara, before walking away and asking for the Deputy Mayor to come up to the stage.

You watch carefully as he ghostly trails his fingers over the various knives. You knew what was going to happen, and yet you felt hopeless to stop it.

Finally, when Jerome picks one up, he looks up and smiles devilishly. “By the way, nobody here.. is getting out alive.” The crowd gasps and shouts as Jerome throws the knife, lunging the blade into the mans chest. A chill went down your spine as you watch Jerome shrug and the Deputy Mayor fall to the floor.

Catching you off guard (though, with Jerome, you really shouldn’t be anymore), loud gunshots echo throughout the room. Lights fall and break as people scream and try to flee, only to fail. As you expected, Jerome laughs loudly, tearing off the disguise.

“Finally! This thing is itchy.” He grumbles and scratches his chin and cheeks, light red marks forming, only to disappear a few seconds after. He turns and looks over at you as chaos is still being created. With a sinister grin, he walks over to you and forcefully grabs your hips. “Been waiting to get my hands on ya. Miss the way you feel against me.” He whispers hotly in your ear, making goosebumps form on your skin. He giggles as he finishes speaking, leaning down and leaving a kiss on your neck before moving back to the center stage.

When Jerome lets you go, a change in the corner of your eye made you look over. A gasp left your mouth as you watched Lee be tied up to a wheel. As she fights back, her eyes search the room until they land on you. With the mask still on your face, you didn’t know if she could tell who you were or not. But you were sure that your concerned expression was all she needed to know.

Breaking you out of your daze, Jerome’s voice invaded your ears again. “Sorry, Jimbo, it’s just little ol’ me!” Your eyes widened at the name. He’s talking to Jim? Ignoring your racing heart, you felt a part of it calm down to know that he was okay.

“Are you outside? Oh, you are, aren’t you?” Jerome talks animatedly to the phone that was pressed up to his ear. You only just noticed that he was directly in front of a camera, quickly moving away from him. “Goodie!” He giggles.

There were mumbles from the receiver, but you heard Jim’s voice clearly as he spoke, “I swear to god, if you’ve hurt her,” but the detective didn’t get to finish his sentence as Jerome cut him off.

“Which one?” He smiles and laughs. “See for yourself! This is live television after all!” He turns and walks towards you. “Oh, whoops! Get this thing off your face, doll.” His fingers curl under your mask as he takes it off and throws it haphazardly. His arm wraps around your waist as he brings you close to him. The camera pans over to Barbara as she pretends to shoot Lee.

You hear a faint, “Y/N?” from the other side of the call.

“Huh? You mean my girl right here?” Jerome mocks confusion as he looks over at you, squeezing your hip. “You know her?” He laughs at his own joke, the loud cackle reverberating off the walls.

“You son of a bitch.” Jim’s words were laced with malice as he talked.

“True, but.. not the point.” Jerome shakes his head. He lets you go, not before pressing a kiss to your forehead, for himself and to make Jim more upset, and walks back over to the camera lens. “Lets talk about what I want!” He pauses before listing off, “$47 million dollars, a helicopter, obviously, the dry cleaning I left at Mr. Chang’s, be careful, that man is a crook! And oh, I don’t know.. a pony!” He smiles widely as he knows Jim was getting more agitated as time went by. “You got 10 minutes before I start killing people and, remember, this is being broadcasted to every home in Gotham, so.. ya know, don’t let people die. Bye!” He laughs hysterically into the phone, suddenly coming to a stop as he hangs up the phone. He turns and says, “I think that went well.”

“Enough!” The random voice caught your ears immediately, your eyes scouring the crowd to find where it came from. “You need to pack up your pathetic little side show and leave.” Galavan.

Jerome turns back to the front and smiles, “Is that right?”

Theo walks towards the stage as he speaks, “It may presumptuous to speak for all the citizens of Gotham, but we are sick of you! You’re a small, vicious man with a pathetic need for attention.” Jerome’s smile never falters as he bows proudly. Your eyebrows furrow in confusion at his words, obviously rehearsed and acted out beforehand. What was his plan? Had Jerome been rehearsing this part with him as well and you didn’t know? “Enough, man, enough.”

“I’m curious what you’re leverage is here. Mr…?” Jerome trails off, walking towards the man.

He turns towards the camera and artificially says, “Theo Galavan.” More of his plan seems to reveal itself to you as seconds went by.

“Well, Mr. Theo Galavan, if you don’t sit down,” Jerome moves back some of Galavan’s hair playfully. “I’m going to shoot you.. in the face!” He smiles widely and started to walk away again, towards the crowd.

“I know there is some human decency left in you,” Jerome teasingly points to himself, as if challenging Theo’s words. “If you need to take a hostage, take me. But let these people go home, to their families, to their children,” before he could finish, Barbara came over and hit his head with a hammer.

She sighs, “boring.”

“Right?” Jerome agrees and walks back towards you. Barbara makes her way back to Lee as she argues with her.

“Isn’t this fun, gorgeous?” He smiles widely and grabs your hand, unexpectedly twirling you. He lets you unroll all the way until his fingers straighten out, and then tugs you back into his grasp. You land on his chest as his opposite hand takes home on your hip. “Your heart racing, the adrenaline rush, the feeling of your body on fire, oh! It’s exhilarating.” He laughs and steps in line with you as he repeats his action from earlier, placing your hand on his shoulder as he holds your other palm.

“When you come with me, this is all gonna be ours. Everything, everyone will be under our control, our thumbs.” Jerome’s eyes convey the excitement and the anticipation that he felt in that moment. The way he describes it, the once in a lifetime offer, a promise for an unpredictable and chaotic future that Jerome so desperately craved. And he had picked you to spend it with.

He stepped forward and around as he held you, not caring about the numerous eyes that watched you both, or he just didn’t notice, too caught up with you. His grip tightened quickly as the hand on your hip traveled down to your thigh, suddenly dipping you back. “Promise me somethin’, doll.” He leans down and whispers in your ear, “Never forget me.” He brings you back up in a standing position with a bright smile on his face. His hand travels up in a fast motion, circling around your neck, resting his palm against the skin like he had done earlier. Your breath hitches as he leans down and presses his lips against yours, his fingers ever so slightly digging into your skin. “Show time, toots.” He whispers against your lips with a smile.

Jerome walks back towards the middle of the stage, grabbing the microphone harshly. “Well, I think it’s time for tonights first official victim! You all know and love, poor rich boy, parents murdered in an alley, and my second favorite volunteer.” He smiles teasingly and looks back at you with a wink. “Where is.. Bruce Wayne!” He calls out to the silent room, waiting. He talks into the mic in a softer tone, trying to appeal to the boy to come out of hiding, “Did you know I’m an orphan, too, Bruce? I killed my parents, though. Where are you hiding?” His eyes search the area, before yelling into the mic, “Bruce!”

“Kill his butler.” Barbara suggests, her hands on her hips. She had an angry look on her face, probably from the conversation she had with Lee.

“All right, last chance, Bruce. But it’s about to get very butler brainy out here.” Jerome grumbles and motions toward the older man in the crowd. You watch the situation unfold, unsure of what to do. With the amount of time that had passed, you were positive Jim had made it inside the building. Maybe he had Bruce? You hoped that was the case.

“Eh, I’m bored. Shoot the butler!” Jerome sighs and says in a defeated tone. He was losing his patience and it was obvious.

“Stop!” A yell sounded from the curtain as Bruce sprinted toward his guardian. The man had begun to scold him, before Bruce had whispered something to him. Jerome quickly ran from the stage and forcefully held Bruce, a knife to his throat.

He backed up towards the stage as he smiles. “Let’s get this started, huh?” Jerome giggles and keeps the knife steady against the boys neck.

A gunshot echoed from one side of the building, Jim Gordon making his way through the red curtain. You felt relief wash over you as you saw him, but there was something else you felt in that moment.. something you couldn’t place yet.

“I don’t have a clean shot.” Jim aimed the gun at the murderer, staying as still as possible.

“Stay calm, Bruce.” The older man had told the younger boy, trying to keep the boy’s attention on him.

“Seems like we’ve got ourselves a pickle! What do ya say, Brucey-boy, wanna boost our ratings?” Jerome laughs crazily and presses the blade against the boys pale skin, starting to draw blood. “Smile!”

As you started to rush over to the pair, you were too distracted for the boys safety to realize someone had woken up. With a loud voice, Galavan yelled, “I said enough!”

Jerome begrudgingly let go of Bruce as the boy ran straight off the stage and to his guardian. He turned and faced Theo, only to be met with a blade to his neck. You stood paralyzed as you watched the scene, your mouth agape and goosebumps raised on your skin.

“I know, I know, this is not what we rehearsed.” Theo whispers to Jerome, sinking down to the floor. “I’m so sorry, Jerome. You have real talent, but now you see, the plot thickens, enter the hero.”

Jerome begins to speak, his mouth and teeth covered in blood. “You.. said..” he tries to take in a breath, but it backfires. “That I was gonna be…” Jerome’s words cut themselves short as his eyes dilate tenfold, that sinister smile permanent on his face. Before he lost the battle between living, his iris flash over to you, taking in one last look before becoming lifeless.

What about the future he wanted? The promise he made to you? He was going to be the King of Gotham with you by his side as the Queen. None of it was an option now. None of it made sense without the man that started it all, that had swore to give you what he convinced you that you wanted. What was the point now?

One of the last things he had said to you replayed in your mind like a broken record, “Promise me somethin’, doll. Never forget me.”

You wouldn’t be able to, even if you tried.

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