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hgfictionwriter · 15 days

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Self Control: Part Eight - Reveal

Jessie Fleming x Reader

Summary: Your body is starting to change, and your moods are changing even quicker! You and Jessie experience a first and you learn the sex of your baby.

Warnings: Some language. Some nudity (?), intimate touching.

A/N: I've had a few requests to have poor Jessie coping with Reader's mood swings. Enjoy! lol. Rest of the series is here.

"Finally," you said as Jessie came through the door with a package under her arm.

"What is it anyway?" She asked as she handed the box over to you and you placed it on the table to open it. She watched as you pulled out an item and held it up against yourself, turning to her.

"What do you think?" You asked with a knowing smile that shifted into a smirk. Jessie's eyes drifted to the bra you were showcasing and a goofy grin crossed her face.

"Well I think you'll need to actually try it on for me," she said flirtatiously as she came up to you, placing her hands on your growing stomach as she leaned in for a kiss.

She smiled brightly just at the touch. You were very close to 20 weeks along and your belly had swelled notably over the past few weeks. Unless if you were wearing a large sweater or jacket, it was no longer a secret that you were expecting and Jessie adored it.

Anytime you were out together she was on top of the world as she stood next to you, arm around your waist and proud as can be. She couldn't help but beam when someone referred to either of you as moms-to-be.

"I figured you'd say something like that," you responded as you pulled back and gave her a fleeting peck on the cheek as you retreated to the bedroom. Jessie trailed after you eagerly.

"I bought two new bras for now," you explained. "I'll see how comfortable they are and if I like them I'll buy more."

"Okay," she said as she sat down on the edge of the bed and practically swung her feet as you drew your top over your head. You tossed it at her playfully as she caught it with a waggle of her eyebrows.

She grinned as you stood before her and unclasped your bra, your breasts falling freely as you removed it. She bit back a chuckle at the sigh of relief you released.

"God," you breathed in complaint, cupping one of your breasts with your hand. "I should've got these two weeks ago. Can't believe how much my boobs have grown."

"I know," Jessie said in an entirely different tone, her gaze transfixed on your breasts.

She held back a bashful smirk as you shot her a look while you started to put on one of the new bras. When clasped, you studied yourself momentarily. You huffed.

"God. I'm going to need a new size in another few weeks at this rate," you complained further. Jessie stood up and approached, hands out as she gently grasped your breasts, feeling them mindfully while in appreciation.

Jessie was solely focused on your breasts until you snapped your fingers in front of her face with a laugh.

"Focus," you joked. "What do you think?"

"Glorious," Jessie said simply. You rolled your eyes affectionately as you tried on the other bra.

"Is there one you like better?" You asked. She had yet to draw her eyes away from your cleavage.

"I like them both," she said with a wide smile.

"You don't say," you teased with another eye roll. "By the way, these past few weeks have been the absolute most excited you've ever been to help me shop for clothes." Jessie felt her face heat up with a light blush, but she shrugged it off.

"What can I say? You look absolutely gorgeous." And she meant it.

"Ugh," you dismissed as you turned and studied yourself in the mirror with a borderline rueful smirk. "I thought the weight I put on in first year uni was tough." You sighed as you honed in on the faintest marks on your breasts and on your abdomen. "And I'm getting stretch marks," you whined.

"Babe," Jessie said as she stepped in front of you and placed her hands lovingly on your stomach. "That is totally normal. You're beautiful." She saw that you weren't entirely convinced and she went on. "You're beautiful," she repeated, "but I know it bothers you. So, let me put cream on for you."

"I can do it myself," you pouted as you turned away and grabbed the lotion off of the dresser. You pumped some into your hands and walked away from her as you applied it.

"Babe, don't be stubborn. Let me help," she insisted as she followed after you with a frown.

"I'm fine," you told her, keeping your back to her.

Jessie held back a sigh. She knew to expect mood swings, but you'd always been quite chill and outside of the few that happened in your first trimester, predominantly when you were dealing with morning sickness, you'd been pretty much yourself through the pregnancy. However, it couldn't always be that way.

"Baby. I would like to help you," she said patiently. You made a minor noise of acknowledgement, but grabbed your shirt off the bed and retreated to the bathroom, closing the door behind you without so much as a look her way.

She stood there alone in the bedroom and finally let out her sigh of frustration as she stared at the closed door unsure of what to do. After several moments of indecision she eventually chose to give you your space and sulked out to the kitchen. She stood there looking around and contemplating her options before opening the fridge and started to prepare a snack for you. Maybe some food would be a sufficient peace offering. Not that she was sure what she was trying to make up for.

She was still prepping the small charcuterie board of sorts when she heard you emerge from the bedroom. She looked over to you as you walked out. You were fully dressed again, but Jessie was met with the cold shoulder again. A quiet huff escaped her as she refocused on cutting up some veggies.

A few moments passed and she heard you settling in on the couch. She discretely peered over her shoulder to see you curled up on your phone. From your body language though, she could tell you were still upset.

She looked over the board before she gave a self-affirming nod and picked it up, carrying it over to you. She set it down on the table in front of you and stood there wordlessly for a few seconds watching you purposefully ignore it and her.

"I'm not hungry," you eventually said, tone flat and your eyes didn't rise from your phone.

"Well. I'll leave it there for you for when you are," Jessie said, trying to stamp out the bubbling disappointment and frustration. She watched you intently, noting the way you exhaled through your nose and settled further in, your shoulders rising up as you pulled your limbs in tighter and still avoiding eye contact.

She exhaled in the same way and turned on her heel and retreated to the bedroom, grabbing her laptop on the way. She sat cross-legged on the bed and perused her emails, read the news; anything really to busy herself.

Her eyes lifted from the screen as she heard the faint sound of you biting into a carrot or celery. She smiled faintly and picked up her phone to type out a message to you.

"I need you to know that you are truly more and more beautiful to me every day. Every part of you, too. I know it's hard for you and you may feel insecure about some things, but you are the most gorgeous woman to me. Every change in your curves, every stretch mark is beautiful to me and knowing that it's because our baby is growing each day and you're carrying them so incredibly makes it mean that much more to me."

She sent it and looked expectantly at the open doorway. The sounds of you eating stilled and she checked her phone. She saw you'd read the message and she awaited your response. The moments passed; more moments passed - nothing.

"Getting left on read by my own fiancée," Jessie muttered under her breath with a sigh as she propped her chin into her palm while she mindlessly scrolled on her laptop.

Several minutes later, her phone lit up and buzzed. She readily picked it up.

"Yet you don't want to be with me."

Jessie narrowed her eyes at the message in confusion. She shook her head and sat up straight.

"What? What are you talking about?" She said loud enough for you to hear.

Silence. She sighed, harsher this time, her patience wearing thin. She was about to speak up again when she saw the bubbles appear in your chat. She breathed quietly, forcing herself to remain calm.

"Well what are you even doing? You obviously don't want to spend time with me. And you're on a plane first thing tomorrow morning. So."

A frustrated huff escaped Jessie as she pushed herself up off the bed and strode towards the door. She slowed and took a steadying breath to get a hold of herself as she reached the doorway.

She rounded it and was about to speak when she laid eyes on you to see you sitting there, your eyes uncharacteristically teary. The irritation she'd been feeling a moment before was fully replaced by confusion and concern.

"Babe, what's going on?" She asked as she approached. "Of course I want to spend time with you. I didn't think you wanted to spend time with me. You walked away and closed the door on me. I thought you wanted space." You sniffled as she took up a spot next to you on the couch, facing you and resting a hand on your leg. You recoiled subtly and Jessie couldn't help but frown and huff. "See?" She said in accusation.

You shot her a look, eyes red and watery. "Why wouldn't I want to spend time with you? You're the most important person in my life."

"I-" Jessie stuttered and stalled, unsure how to proceed appropriately. She was always very careful with her words and unpredictable situations like this weren't ones she thrived in. While she contemplated how to respond, you wiped at a stray tear.

"No wonder you want to leave," you said, eyes still set forward and away from Jessie.

Her face screwed up. "What? No. I don't."

"Sure."

Jessie narrowed her eyes at you, entirely perplexed. She sighed audibly.

"I never enjoy leaving you to begin with. But I can't stand it now. I hate leaving for days at a time and missing moments with you and our little one. I love you more than anything. But knowing I have to go...," she trailed off, her gaze drifting down as she found her words. She looked back up at you, encouraged by how you watched her from the corner of your eye.

"Travel used to just be me going through the motions, here one day, there another, it was what it was. Now, since I met you, I miss you so much every time and I'm always so thrilled at the prospect of coming home to you. Nothing feels as good as being in your arms again after I've been away." She watched you helplessly and spoke imploringly. "Please believe me."

"God. I'm sorry. I don't know what's wrong with me," you sniffled as you finally fully looked at her, eyes so sad and her heart swelling immediately at the sight.

She smirked and kissed your cheek, feeling it was safe to do so again. She smiled fully when you didn't pull away and instead leaned into her. She kissed the top of your head as she wrapped her arms around you and chuckled softly.

"Nothing's wrong with you - you're pregnant."

Your body jostled lightly against her as you snickered. You brought a hand up to your stomach and rubbed idly. "I really am, I guess."

Jessie kissed the top of your head again with a smile. "You still mad at me?"

"No. I'm sorry," you said as you cuddled in further. "Thanks for putting up with me. And for the snacks."

She gave you a squeeze. "Don't apologize. This is my end of the deal. it's the very least I can do."

"I appreciate it one way or another," you said as you rest against her.

You sat quietly together for a few moments before you jolted up. "Oh shit."

Cold panic went through Jessie seeing how your hands were on your stomach and you stared down wide-eyed at your bump. She did her best to remain stoic and she reached a hand out to gently rest on yours.

"What's wrong?"

"I-" You started, but stalled. You were quiet for a second before grasping Jessie's hand and pressing it against the underside of your stomach. She held her hand there motionless, eyes shifting from your bump to your face and back again as she waited silently and on the edge of her seat. Your eyes were set on the floor as if you were deep in thought.

Eventually, you let out a small sigh. "I swear I felt a fluttering of some kind. Or a couple of tiny, gentle taps." You sighed once more. "I-"

Suddenly, Jessie felt the faintest sensations under her fingers. They were over nearly as soon as they started, but they were there.

She looked up at you, eyes wide in shock, your expression now one of excitement as you looked back at her.

"Oh my God," Jessie said in wonder as she adjusted her hand slightly, hoping to feel it again, leaning in and looking as though that would make a difference.

You laughed lightly, and that was all she could feel. She frowned at you. "Stay still. I want to feel it again."

"Oh, I'm sorry," you said teasingly in exaggeration though you did pause your movements once more.

Jessie remained entirely focused on your stomach, every now and then very purposefully and slowly moving a hand around to try to perhaps feel the sensation somewhere else. She eventually tried talking.

"Hi little one. It's me - your mom," she said softly as she thumbed the swell of your stomach gently. "Do you want to move again for me?" Nothing. A tiny frown formed on her face, but she continued. "I'm really excited to see you at our ultrasound appointment next week. I have your picture up in my locker, you know. I can't wait to get a new one. I love you so much already. My whole locker is going to be pictures of you." She looked at you out of the corner of her eye with a smirk, "and Momma."

Jessie felt around for another minute or two, but to no avail. She huffed and sat back up.

Though she could feel the disappointment weighing on her, her eyebrows bunched together, she relaxed when she finally looked up to see you smiling at her.

"I think they were just telling us they're happy we made up. They don't like when we bicker," you told her. Jessie cocked a smirk and rest a hand against your stomach once more.

"Well, now I want to bicker and make-up again so I can feel them again." Your hand came to rest over hers and Jessie thumbed the back of your hand. "I think they don't like it when I make you cry. Rightfully so."

"Well hopefully they know I was being marginally irrational," you joked. "They'll make themselves known again soon. I'm sure," you told her and gave her a kiss on the cheek. "And when they're kicking up a storm in the future and bruising my insides, I'm going to blame you for encouraging them."

----------

The following week, Jessie sat with you again at Dr. Mal's office for the anatomy scan. She gave you a small smile as you lay reclined on the table and the ultrasound tech applied the gel to your swollen abdomen.

Jessie lifted your hand and gave you a kiss on your knuckles before clasping your hand in both of hers. This appointment felt so different than the first ultrasound. While she'd been so nervous the first time around, and it would be a lie to say she wasn't nervous now, this time she felt more excited than anything.

She subconsciously held her breath as the technician brought the probe to your stomach and started scanning. Your hand tightened around Jessie's as images started to form on the screen.

"There's your baby," the technician said as the visuals became more defined.

Jessie beamed, eyes fixed to the screen and only pulling away when she saw your head flick towards her with a glowing smile of your own. She squeezed your hand.

While in the first scan, your baby was merely a small shape, now, your baby was unmistakable. She belatedly realized she was tearing up already just at the image before you.

"I'm going to take a number of images and scans here, and then Dr. Mal will come in after she's reviewed and she'll talk through everything with you. And we'll share all of this with your midwife's office, okay?" The technician reminded you; you both nodded, distracted with the images on the screen instead.

When the technician finished, it was just Jessie and you in the room as you got changed and awaited the results. Jessie beamed as you placed a hand on her cheek and kissed her deeply, a bright smile on your face when you pulled back.

"It all looked good, right? Like, there would've been some obvious signs if something was wrong, right?" You asked as you sat down with her.

Jessie nodded. She didn't really know, though she'd done her best to try to do some research, but she didn't really know what she was looking for.

"Everything seemed fine and the technician didn't let on if anything was concerning, but," Jessie slowed, "if anything were wrong, we'll take things one step at a time and we'll get through it together."

It felt like ages before Dr. Mal entered the room. Jessie let out a breath she'd inadvertently been holding upon seeing her enter with a smile.

After some initial greetings and a general check-in, she finally broached the scans.

"I'm sure you're just wanting to talk about the scans, right?" She asked with a knowing smile. Jessie blushed lightly, but nodded and you answered "Yes." She laughed and nodded. "I figured as much. That's what every parent wants."

She pulled up the scans on a monitor and began walking you both through everything. The placenta's position, the amount of amniotic fluid, how the baby's major organs and structures were developing. Jessie felt relief wash over her as everything was relayed as either satisfactory or even good.

"And although these are simply estimates, based on your baby's gestational age, your baby is developing very well. In fact, they appear to be slightly above the 50th percentile in terms of their size - closer to 65, actually. So, momma, you're doing a great job of nurturing your baby and, mom, you're doing a great job of taking care of her and making sure she has everything she needs. This doesn't necessarily mean your baby will be bigger at birth, but it can be an indicator."

Jessie felt your eyes on her and she inadvertently began to blush.

"And, it says here that you wanted to know the baby's sex. Is that right?"

Jessie nodded rapidly and you affirmed.

While Jessie, of all people, knew that the sex assigned at birth wasn't going to dictate how your child lived their life or who they would grow up to be, you both agreed that you still wanted to know. Neither of you were overly into gender norms, so regardless of what was revealed, it wasn't going to be a blue or pink path forward, you simply were curious and it could help inform some aspects of their arrival.

"Okay. Well, you are going to be the very proud mommas of..."

You both tightened your grip on one another's hand.

"...a baby girl."

A/N: Next chapter will be J and R going on a baby moon up to Canada. Drive-by visit with the Flemings included!

#jessie fleming #jessie fleming x reader #woso x reader #woso imagine #canwnt x reader

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murdrdocs · 11 months

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getting a small drawing of abby’s tattooed when mike proposes <3 the ring is your commitment to love mike and the tattoo is your commitment to love abby <333

this is sick in the bestest of ways :(

there's a ring on your finger, simple and minimalistic, nothing too extravagant. but you don't need extravagant. you don't want extravagant, either. you like the pure life you have now with mike and abby, and the ring on your finger is a reminder of your commitment.

but only to him. not to the little girl who hangs onto your every word. not to your new partner in crime who desperately wants to replicate your unset aesthetic. not to the person you smile with the most.

you're thinking on the subject one day whenever abby shows you a new drawing, smile big especially with the final teeth she's grown in. you smile down at it, too, like you always do, but your sights zone in on the three sets of hands clasped together.

it's your suggestion and abby is delighted to tag along with you. she watches with wonder as the artist presses the machine needle to your skin. she holds your hand when you wince and sweetly asks you if you're okay, actual concern in her voice when you shut your eyes tight.

you reward yourself with ice cream after, another expense added to the day but you couldn't care less. through licks and words full of chocolate, you and abby ogle at the permanent drawing on your skin, abby touching it over the second skin every few moments as she continuously breathes out sounds of wonder.

"i wonder how long it'll take mike to notice." abby poses the question as a hypothetical, nothing but the thought pattern of a child spoken aloud. but you like the sound of it, and you suggest keeping it a secret, abby delightedly pantomiming zipping her lips and tucking the key into your pocket in response.

you put her question to the test when you arrive home, bellies full from ice cream and a subsiding ache in your arm.

mike kisses you like usual, ruffling abby's hair when the two of you enter. abby giggles, shooting looks at you from around mike. you press a finger to your lips behind his back, satisfied that mike chalks abby's behavior up to her playful nature.

it's not until a few hours later whenever the three of you are watching HGTV (you and abby's new favorite channel) in the living room after dinner that mike notices. he's playing with your hand like always, twirling your ring around your finger, lifting and pressing his rough hands into your knuckles periodically. he traces his hand along the top of your hand, leading to your wrist, and that's when he stops.

his hands still, you think his breathing does, too, and you send him a glance. you don't say anything, he doesn't say anything, abby comments on the chosen wall color of the tv couples house.

then mike lifts your wrist, turns it around, and when his eyes meet yours they appear a little more glassy. "what's this?"

you lick your lips. "a tattoo."

you see abby's bob tousling in the wind she creates when she whirs her head around in your peripheral vision. you assume she's smiling and eager now that you've unlocked her zipped lips.

"of what?" mike's eyes bounce between his two beaming girls.

abby handles this one for you, bouncing to her feet. "it's my drawing!" she runs to the kitchen table, grabbing the drawing from a couple of weeks ago, and showing it to mike. "see!"

mike stares at the drawing, then at your wrist, taking in the three pairs of stick figure hands that are linked together, bordering your left hand.

when he stares back at you, you interpret his look as bewilderment. panic sets in and you start to consider that maybe mike didn't want you to commit to his sister like this. maybe this is too much. maybe you should've asked his opinion. maybe he–

and then mike kisses you. soft, yet passionate, and slow. you distantly hear abby's expression of distaste from beside you both, but the only thing you can really focus on is mike running his thumb back and forth over the second skin covering your tattoo.

#mschmidtsworld!#mike schmidt x reader #mike schmidt x you #mike schmidt fluff #mike schmidt #celeste writes fnaf

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butterfly-lies-chase-them-away · 6 months

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Behind the Mask - Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader (ONESHOT)

Pairing: Jonathan Crane x Fem!Reader Scarecrow x Batgirl!Reader Word Count: 15079

Warnings: Enemies to Lovers, fear toxin, Scarecrow x Batgirl

Summary: (REQUEST) While chasing down the Scarecrow in Gotham, Y/n forms an unexpected bond with the mysterious figure. As their relationship deepens, Y/n finds herself navigating the blurred boundaries between friend and foe.

A/N: I got a request for Scarecrow x Batgirl!reader with enemies to lovers and I fucking JUMPED at this one, I did not mean to write this much, holy shit. I didn't really have a plan going into this one, so when I started writing, I was going from top to bottom, so whatever happened happened and I clearly went OFF! While writing this, I kinda had comic-book!Scarecrow in my brain for reasons I couldn't explain, but ya know... it's the same dude so yeah. I really hope you enjoy this as much as I enjoyed writing it 💚

"I'll need you to be on watch in the Narrows tonight," Bruce instructed Y/n as he fastened his suit, his tone carrying the weight of his responsibilities.

"Any you want me to keep an eye one in particular?" Y/n asked, adjusting her own suit in preparation.

"Many, but the Scarecrow’s been more active recently, I want you to look out for him, I have the Joker to deal with." Bruce replied, his gaze distant as he mentally prepared for the night's challenges.

It had been a a few months since Y/n first became the Batgirl. Y/n often found herself in the wrong place at the wrong time, or perhaps it was the right place at the right time, depending on how one looked at it. As a bystander in Gotham City, she frequently stumbled upon scenes of crime and chaos, unwittingly becoming entangled in the city's never-ending struggle for order.

On one occasion, while walking home from work, Y/n witnessed a mugging in progress. Without hesitation, she sprang into action, using her self-defense skills to fend off the assailant and protect the victim. Little did she know, Batman had been monitoring the situation from the shadows, impressed by her bravery and resourcefulness.

This became a regular occurrence for Y/n after that, seeking out injustice in the city and protecting those in need. With each encounter, Y/n found herself drawn further into Batman's world, her actions catching his attention time and time again, forging an unexpected bond between herself and the Dark Knight.

Under Batman's guidance, Y/n evolved from a mere bystander into Batgirl, a symbol of hope and strength for the citizens of Gotham. With her skills and determination, she stood shoulder to shoulder with the Caped Crusader, ready to confront the darkness that threatened to consume their city.

The two of them went their separate ways, Y/n finding herself in the Narrows, poached on a building. And as if on cue, she heard screams coming from an alley. Immediately jumping into action, Y/n dropped down and rushed to the scene, and just as she expect, the man with a burlap mask stood over a helpless person, screaming and scratching on the floor.

"Refining your toxins, Scarecrow?" Y/n's voice echoed down the dimly lit alley, drawing his attention like a moth to a flame.

"Alone in the shadows, Batgirl?" Scarecrow's distorted voice floated back, his eerie presence sending shivers down Y/n's spine.

Without hesitation, Y/n surged forward, her determination driving her towards the looming figure of Scarecrow. Scarecrow's agility was surprising, a testament to his cunning and prowess.

Despite his speed, Y/n's athletic skills allowed her to gain ground. With a swift motion, she held out a Batarang, sending it spinning towards Scarecrow's feet. The makeshift trap worked like a charm, causing him to stumble and crash to the ground.

"Lost your footing?" Y/n taunted, her voice laced with determination.

"Lost your vision?" Scarecrow retorted, his words accompanied by a sudden burst of suspicious powder that engulfed Y/n's senses.

Coughing and disoriented, she struggled to maintain her balance as her surroundings blurred into a hazy fog.

In the midst of the chaos, Scarecrow seized the opportunity to strike, delivering a well-aimed kick that sent Y/n tumbling to the ground. With a pained groan, she collided with the unforgiving pavement, the impact jarring her senses and rattling her confidence.

As Scarecrow's footsteps faded into the distance, leaving behind only the distant echoes of the Narrows, Y/n cursed her carelessness. Still reeling from the encounter, she struggled to regain her bearings, her vision still clouded and her body aching from the fall.

"This better not be permanent," Y/n muttered under her breath, frustration evident in her voice as she struggled to regain her footing amidst the haze of her blurry vision.

With the aid of the wall for support, Y/n navigated her way out of the Narrows, determination guiding her steps despite her impaired sight. Fumbling for her walkie-talkie, she summoned Batman, her admission tinged with a hint of embarrassment.

"Hey, uh... Could you bring the Batmobile? I can't see," Y/n confessed, her tone a clear indication of her frustration.

"On my way," Batman's reassuring voice crackled through the device.

As she waited at the end of the alleyway, the familiar roar of the Batmobile's engine signaled Batman's arrival. He lifted the roof of the vehicle, his presence a comforting presence in the midst of Y/n's uncertainty.

"You getting in?" Batman's usual impatience brought a hint of levity to the situation, his words a welcome distraction from Y/n's predicament.

"Yeah, could you help me? I can't see properly," Y/n admitted, her voice tinged with embarrassment. "It's all just a black blob."

Without hesitation, Batman leaped out of the car, his strong hand reaching out to guide Y/n safely into the vehicle. As they embarked on their journey through the city's shadowy streets, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of gratitude for the steadfast ally by her side.

"Rough night?" Batman's gravelly voice broke the silence, cutting through the tension that hung in the air.

"You could say that," Y/n replied, her tone heavy with disappointment as she settled into the seat beside him. "Will my vision be like this permanently?" Y/n asked, the question bugging her for the last 10 minutes.

"Hard to tell with the Scarecrow, but you should be okay. It's a surprise he didn't use his fear toxin on you," Batman remarked, his voice betraying a hint of concern.

Y/n let out a sigh of resignation, her shoulders slumping as she leaned back against the seat. In the darkness of the Batmobile, surrounded by the faint hum of the engine and the steady rhythm of the city outside, she couldn't help but feel a sense of vulnerability. But even in her moment of uncertainty, she found solace in the presence of the silent guardian beside her, a reminder that she was never truly alone in the shadows of Gotham.

Fortunately for Y/n, her vision returned within an hour, relieving her of the temporary blindness. Despite Bruce's insistence that she call it a night and rest up, Y/n's determination to uncover more about their adversary remained unyielding. In the depths of the Batcave, she was immersed in her research, combing through databases and news articles in search of a lead.

"Thought you'd be down here, Master Bruce holding you back?" Alfred's familiar voice echoed through the cavernous space as he descended into the Batcave.

"No, I was supposed to head home an hour ago," Y/n admitted, her attention still fixed on the glowing screen before her.

"Well, shall I fetch you some supper then?" Alfred offered, ever the attentive caretaker.

"It's alright, Alfred. Thank you," Y/n replied, offering a grateful smile in his direction.

As Alfred approached, he cast a glance at the screen, taking note of Y/n's diligent research and the meticulous notes scattered around her workspace.

"My, you've certainly done quite the thorough job. It's no wonder you landed that internship," Alfred remarked, his tone filled with pride.

"You and I both know I only got that internship at Arkham because of Bruce's influence," Y/n laughed.

"You ought to give yourself more credit, Miss L/n," Alfred's voice held a gentle admonishment as he glanced over Y/n's work. "When is your first day, anyway?"

Glancing at the clock, Y/n realized it was already 1 AM. "Tomorrow," she answered.

"I beg of you to go home, Miss L/n. Your sleep schedule is bad enough as it is," Alfred urged, concern etched in his voice.

Y/n let out a weary sigh. "I guess I'll have to leave the Scarecrow for another time."

Y/n and Alfred made their way back up to Wayne Manor, Y/n gathering her belongings in preparation to depart. Despite her reluctance to leave her research behind, she knew that rest was necessary if she wanted to be at her best for the challenges that lay ahead. With one last glance at the Batcomputer, Y/n bid farewell to the Batcave, her mind already turning towards the mysteries that awaited her on her first day at Arkham.

Y/n's first day at Arkham Asylum began with a mix of anticipation and nervous energy. The towering, foreboding structure of the institution loomed against the gray skies of Gotham, its reputation preceding it.

Working at Arkham Asylum had always been a dream for Y/n, fueled by a deep fascination with the psychology of criminals. And there was no better place than Arkham. She was aware that Bruce had played a pivotal role in securing this internship for her, primarily to make it easier to access the criminals and their files. Yet, this knowledge did little to dampen her enthusiasm. In fact, she saw it as practical to use her role for the greater good, combining her academic interests with her goal to protect Gotham.

As she stepped through the heavy, security-laden doors, she was greeted by Dr. Penelope Young, one of Arkham's leading psychiatrists and her supervisor for the duration of the internship.

"Welcome to Arkham Asylum, Miss L/n. I'm Dr. Young. I'll be showing you around today and discussing what you can expect during your time here," Dr. Young said, offering a firm handshake that Y/n returned.

Their tour began in the more benign corridors of the asylum, where Dr. Young outlined the history of Arkham, its purpose, and its challenges. She spoke with a passion that contrasted the grim surroundings, her belief in rehabilitation and understanding of the human psyche evident in her every word.

"As you'll soon learn, Arkham is more than just a holding facility for Gotham's criminally insane. It's a place of complexity, where psychology and security intersect in ways you won't see anywhere else," Dr. Young explained as they navigated through secure checkpoints.

The tour included visits to various departments, including the high-security wards where Gotham's most notorious villains were held. Dr. Young's explanations were thorough, covering the protocols for dealing with dangerous inmates, the importance of mental health assessments, and the ongoing research aimed at better understanding and treating profound psychological disorders.

"Your role here, Miss L/n, will involve assisting with patient assessments, participating in therapy sessions, and contributing to our research projects. It's crucial work that not only helps us understand the minds of those we're treating but also aids in ensuring the safety of Gotham City," Dr. Young said, her tone serious yet encouraging.

As they concluded the tour in the library, filled with texts on psychology, criminology, and the history of Arkham itself, Dr. Young offered some final advice.

"Always remember, the work we do here is challenging and often thankless. But it's also incredibly important. You're going to see and experience things that will test you, but I believe you have the potential to make a real difference."

Y/n left the tour feeling a mixture of awe and trepidation. The weight of her responsibilities at Arkham Asylum was now fully realized, but so too was her determination to meet the challenges head-on. As she prepared for her first assignment, she couldn't help but feel that her journey into the heart of Gotham's darkness was only just beginning.

Patrolling the rooftops alongside Batman had become a familiar part of Y/n's night life, yet that particular night, her performance was far from her usual standard. Missteps, a lack of balance, and a series of other minor blunders affected her efforts. Aware of Bruce's patience, she nonetheless couldn't shake off the feeling that she was more of a liability than an asset to Batman during their late-night surveillance.

"Fuck, sorry," Y/n muttered, hastily picking herself up after her foot caught on an uneven crack on a rooftop in the Narrows.

Batman halted his advance, turning to face her with a concern that seemed to pierce through the shadows of his cowl. "You should head home, you need rest," he suggested.

Y/n's gaze dropped, a wave of embarrassment washing over her. She knew he was right, yet admitting it felt like conceding to a weakness she couldn't afford.

"You're exhausted. It's been a long day," Batman tried to reassure her, recognizing the toll the day's events had taken on her.

"I know, but I feel like I need to be here," Y/n insisted, her voice a mix of determination and frustration.

"Is this about the Scarecrow again?" Batman's question cut through the tension, his insight honing in on the heart of her persistence.

"...Yeah," Y/n admitted, a mix of resolve and vulnerability in her voice.

Her obsession with stopping Scarecrow had pushed her to her limits, yet she felt an unyielding need to confront the fear he spread across Gotham. In that moment, beneath the expanse of the night sky, her dedication to their cause was as clear as the weariness she fought against.

The Scarecrow was Y/n's first real challenge with one of Gotham's notorious Rogue's. Until now, her experiences had primarily involved run-ins with lesser-known criminals. Unmasking the Scarecrow, whose identity remained a mystery to all of Gotham, would be a monumental achievement for her.

"Why don't you hang back a bit? You can stay on the scene, but I'd rather you not engage in anything major," Batman suggested, his voice carrying a note of protective caution.

Y/n nodded in agreement. She decided to approach the situation with caution, opting for observation over direct confrontation. From her vantage point on a nearby rooftop, she kept a vigilant eye on the Narrows, tracking Batman's movements as he patrolled the shadowy labyrinth below. That's when she spotted him.

Quickly, she grabbed her radio to alert Batman. "Scarecrow spotted near the north apartments!" she reported, urgency lacing her voice.

As Batman sprang into action, heading towards the reported location, Y/n felt a surge of determination. She knew she couldn't just stand by. Moving with purpose, she leaped across rooftops, her movements a blend of precision and grace, as she closed in on the two. Her heart raced with a mix of excitement and fear, fully aware of the dangers that lay ahead yet driven by a deep-seated resolve to make a difference.

His pursuit was relentless, a testament to years of honing his skills for moments just like this. The Scarecrow, a master of terror and manipulation, darted ahead, his movements erratic and desperate, aware that the Dark Knight was closing in on him.

The Scarecrow, realizing the inevitability of his capture, turned to face Batman, a sinister smile playing across his lips, hidden beneath the grotesque mask that had become his signature.

In a swift movement, Scarecrow pulled from his tattered coat a small canister, unleashing a cloud of his fear toxin directly at Batman. The gas, a potent concoction of Scarecrow's own design, filled the air, a visible miasma of terror.

Batman, caught off-guard by the sudden assault, attempted to evade the cloud but inhaled a breath of the toxic fumes. The world around him twisted horrifyingly, his vision blurring as the gas took hold, plunging him into a nightmarish landscape of his own fears. Towering figures of his past adversaries loomed over him, their taunts echoing in his ears, while the loss of his parents replayed in agonizing detail, a never-ending cycle of pain and guilt.

Y/n's heart skipped a beat at the sight of Batman collapsing, overcome by the Scarecrow's fear toxin. Without hesitation, she reached out to Alfred through her radio.

"It's urgent. Batman's been incapacitated by Scarecrow's fear gas. You need to get him immediately," she relayed with urgency.

Without waiting for Alfred's confirmation, she sprung into action, her body moving almost on instinct. She descended from her vantage point into the alleyway below, her cape billowing behind her as she set her sights on the retreating figure of the Scarecrow.

"You just can't let it go, can you?" Scarecrow taunted, turning to hurl a canister of his sinister concoction in her direction.

The moment the toxin enveloped her, Y/n's reality twisted into a nightmarish tableau. She fell to the ground, a scream tearing from her lips as the shadows around her seemed to swell with judgment and scorn. But this was different, alongside the overwhelming fear, a heavy drowsiness dragged at her consciousness.

This was no ordinary fear toxin, she realized with a struggle to maintain her awareness. Her breaths came in labored gasps, each one a battle against the encroaching darkness. Her strength ebbed away, leaving her helpless on the cold, unforgiving ground of the alley. Her vision blurred, yet she could make out the Scarecrow's figure looming over her, his mask a grotesque visage that pulsated in her dimming sight.

As her field of view narrowed to a point, she saw Scarecrow bend down beside her, his hands reaching out to grasp her. Then, as if a curtain had fallen over her world, everything succumbed to darkness.

The throbbing in her head was the first sensation that pierced through the fog of unconsciousness, a relentless pounding that seemed to echo through her entire being. Gritting her teeth in discomfort, Y/n reached up, her fingers pressing into her temples in a futile attempt to sooth the pain. With her eyes still firmly shut, she sat up from the surface beneath her.

As she became more aware, her palm registered the unmistakable chill of metal against her skin. Hesitantly, she allowed her eyelids to part, squinting against the dim light that filled her unfamiliar surroundings. This place, cold, sterile, and decidedly unwelcoming, was far from the familiar confines of her home or the Batcave. Panic fluttered in her chest as the realization set in.

She found herself lying on a stark, metallic table, the centerpiece of what appeared to be a neglected laboratory. The air was thick with the scent of chemicals and decay, a testament to the room's dubious purposes. With a growing sense of dread, Y/n ran a hand through her hair, her movements halting as another alarming detail dawned on her, her mask was missing.

She took a sharp intake of breath as she frantically searched her surroundings, her heart racing. Though still clad in the protective gear of Batgirl, minus her utility belt, the absence of her mask left her exposed, vulnerable.

The sound of the door creaking open sent a jolt of adrenaline through her. She became tense, preparing for who might come through that door, her mind racing through possibilities and plans of escape.

As the door swung open, the Scarecrow stepped through, his presence immediately filling the room with a palpable sense of dread. His iconic, scratchy burlap mask seemed to leer at her, the tattered edges of his suit fluttering slightly with his movements. Y/n's heart sank, deep down, she'd known he would be her captor.

The realization of her vulnerability flashed through her mind, sparking a defiant glare, even as she attempted to shield her identity by casting her gaze downward.

"You needn't bother trying to hide now," Scarecrow's voice cut through the tense air, a smirk audible in his tone as he closed the distance between them. "I've seen all I need to see."

Acknowledging that hiding was no longer an option, Y/n understood that resistance might still sway the balance in her favor. With a burst of energy, she attempted to launch herself off the table, only to crumble to the ground, her legs betraying her strength.

"Easy, you've only just regained consciousness," Scarecrow taunted, his steps hastening towards her prone form.

In her struggle to stand back up, Scarecrow's hands suddenly steadied her, pulling her up with a firm grip on her arm. Yet, even in this vulnerable state, Y/n's resolve didn't falter. Her hand darted out, seizing a scalpel from a nearby table, and she held it towards Scarecrow, who instinctively raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. The air between them crackled with tension, each poised for the other's next move.

Scarecrow's voice was calm, yet firm. "You're hardly in a position to resist effectively. Let me help you back onto the table before you injure yourself further. The scalpel isn't necessary," he advised, his tone bordering on reasonable.

Y/n couldn’t help but notice how professionally he spoke.

"So you can subject me to more of your experiments? Yeah nah," she laughed, sarcastically.

Scarecrow, unfazed by her resistance, replied with a hint of a threat, "Whether you agree or not, you're in no condition to stand. It's only a matter of time before you collapse again."

She knew he was right. She could barely feel her legs, and the bits of sensation she did have was undeniable pain. With a reluctant sigh, Y/n let the scalpel clatter back onto the table.

Seeing her give in, Scarecrow lowered his hands and gently supported her around her waist, guiding her with a care that contrasted with his usual menace. He lifted her effortlessly, placing her back on the medical table with a carefulness that seemed out of character. Her legs dangled off the side, the height of the table leaving her feet dangling in the air, a subtle reminder of her current vulnerability.

"Why am I here?" Y/n demanded.

"Had I not intervened, you would be dead," Scarecrow replied.

"So, you hit me with your gas for shits and giggles? Or am I just another subject for your midnight experiments?" Y/n's tone was laced with anger.

"I never intended to expose you to the gas," Scarecrow clarified, moving to grab an item from a nearby table.

"And what? Your hand just slipped?" Y/n retaliated with sarcasm.

"I thought you were the Batman," Scarecrow confessed as he returned to her side.

"And how does that change anything?" Y/n challenged.

Ignoring her, he held a cup, what appeared to be cloudy water. Scarecrow pressed the cup into her hand.

"What's this?" Y/n asked, raising her brow.

"For your headache and numbed legs," Scarecrow responded.

Y/n eyed the cup warily, her skepticism evident. Scarecrow sighed, his voice distorted by his mask.

"If I intended harm, it would have been done already," he assured her.

"Then answer my question," Y/n pressed.

"What question?" Scarecrow responded quickly, playing the fool.

Y/n rolled her eyes. "Why does it matter that you gassed me if I work with Batman?"

Scarecrow remained silent, his gaze fixed on her. She returned his stare, peering into the depths of his blue eyes, an aspect she'd never noticed before, having never been this close to him without a fight.

"Why don’t you want to hurt me?" Y/n rephrased her question.

"Because I don’t want to," he replied simply.

Y/n's shoulders sagged in defeat as she took a sip from the cup, relieved to find it tasted just like water.

"What's your name?" Scarecrow's question caught her off guard.

Y/n shot him a judging glance. "Seriously? Are you dumb? Or do you think I am?"

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound crackled by his mask. "Your face isn't much of a secret now," he remarked.

"True, but a name would give away too much, wouldn't it? Besides, I doubt you'd share yours even if I asked," Y/n countered.

"Fair enough. Batgirl it remains," Scarecrow said.

Concern creased Y/n's brow as she broached the subject weighing on her mind. "So, what's your plan for me now?"

"You're not in any shape to leave just yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Okay, but when I am?" Y/n pressed.

Scarecrow hesitated. "I can't say for certain when that'll be," he admitted.

"You're the reason I'm drugged up…it was your toxin," Y/n pointed out.

"I didn't anticipate having to save anyone after using the gas," Scarecrow replied, his gaze drifting away.

Y/n sensed there was more to his reluctance than he let on. "Why won't you let me go?" she demanded.

"I told you—" Scarecrow began, but Y/n interjected firmly, "I want the real reason."

Scarecrow settled into a chair at a nearby desk.

"Aw, is the Scarecrow feeling lonely?" Y/n teased, her tone light despite the tension in the air.

Though she couldn't discern his expression behind the mask, she could practically feel the weight of his glare.

"Hey, if you keep up with that attitude, I might just have to pay you a visit in the Narrows," Y/n teased further, her words laden with playful defiance.

Y/n couldn't shake the uncertainty creeping into her mind. Was she really entertaining him with her banter?

"I suppose I'll have to hold you to that," Scarecrow retorted, his tone tinged with a hint of amusement.

Y/n couldn't believe what she was hearing. Did he actually want her to visit?

"...Batman must be worried about me," Y/n spoke aloud.

"You'd be correct. He's been searching the Narrows looking for you," Scarecrow confirmed.

She's now aware of their whereabouts. Somewhere in the Narrows, not entirely helpful, but better than nothing.

Relief washed over Y/n. "So he's okay then?" she asked anxiously.

"I only administered a small dose. He's perfectly fine," Scarecrow reassured her.

"Can I leave in about 10 minutes?" Y/n requested.

Scarecrow sighed. "Yes, but let me perform one final check first," he insisted.

He approached her. "Can you stand?"

Y/n noticed a tingling sensation in her legs, a welcome sign of returning strength. She gingerly hopped off the metal table, feeling Scarecrow's supportive grip immediately. Taking a moment to steady herself with his assistance, she eventually managed to push him away gently.

"Considering how quickly Batman bounced back, I'm sure he'll be able to assist you if you encounter any further issues," Scarecrow remarked.

"So, can I go?" Y/n inquired.

"Yes, but you'll be blindfolded," Scarecrow detailed.

Y/n watched as Scarecrow grabbed an unexpected item from his coat, her mask which she had completely forgotten about. She accepted it, placing it securely back on her face. Following this, he produced a blindfold, carefully tying it around her eyes.

"What about my utility belt?" she questioned.

"It's been left in the alley. I expect Batman has already located it with the tracker," Scarecrow informed her.

It made sense, had the belt been here, Batman would have pinpointed her location instantly due to its tracking device.

"Give me your hand," Scarecrow said.

Y/n reached out, feeling Scarecrow's grip. His hand was bare, contrasting with her gloved one, allowing her to feel the unique texture of his skin. Together, they navigated towards what Y/n presumed was the exit.

"Mind your step," Scarecrow instructed.

With extra caution, Y/n raised her foot higher than usual, stepping over what she imagined was the door frame. The sound of metal underfoot suggested they had transitioned onto a metallic grate.

"Coming up to some stairs," Scarecrow said.

As Scarecrow slightly descended, he guided Y/n to the first step. Clutching Scarecrow's hand for support, her free hand found a handrail. They carefully descended the staircase together.

"Last step," Scarecrow informed her.

Her feet found solid concrete below. They continued their journey outside, Y/n blind to their surroundings. After about ten minutes wandering the Narrows in silence, Scarecrow halted.

"I'm going to spin you so you won't know which direction we came from," Scarecrow explained.

Y/n snorted, "Feels like a weird game," she joked.

Gently, Scarecrow placed his hands on her shoulders and started to spin her. Y/n laughed, her steps becoming unsteady as she spun. Once she was sufficiently dizzy, Scarecrow ceased the spinning.

"Can I take off the blindfold now?" Y/n asked.

Scarecrow loosened the knot, freeing her from the blindfold. Blinking against the light, she surveyed her surroundings, her balance off from the spinning.

"I have no idea where I am," she admitted, scanning the area.

"That was the point," Scarecrow replied.

A small smile formed on her lips. "Hey, thanks for not killing me," she uttered, a phrase she never imagined saying.

"I apoligize for using the gas on you," Scarecrow said.

"I appreciate the apology...So! See you around?" Y/n tilted her head, looking at him.

Scarecrow seemed taken aback. "You aren't planning to tackling me to the ground for Batman?"

She shook her head.

"Then, yes... until next time, Batgirl," Scarecrow affirmed.

With that, Y/n walked away, the sound of her footsteps echoing in the alley. Glancing back one last time, she found he had vanished into the shadows.

As Y/n made her way towards the mouth of the alley, a familiar figure emerged from the shadows with a swift, purposeful stride. The figure's imposing silhouette was unmistakable against the dimly lit street. Batman, cloaked in his iconic cape, his gaze fixed intently ahead.

He approached Y/n, his presence commanding yet reassuring. "Where have you been?" Batman's voice, deep and grave.

Although aggressive, she knew it was his way of showing his concern.

Y/n sighed. "I'm fine, thanks! But I wouldn’t have been if not for an unexpected turn of events," she responded, her voice a mix of relief and bewilderment.

Batman surveyed the surroundings with a beading eye, then returned his attention to Y/n. "Scarecrow?" he asked, already piecing together the encounter from the clues left behind.

"Yep," Y/n confirmed.

Batman summoned the Batmobile with a press of a button, and it swiftly glided around the corner, halting with precision in front of them. "We'll discuss it on the way," Batman suggested, sliding into the driver's seat of the Batmobile.

Y/n quickly followed, hopping into the passenger seat. The top sealed shut with a soft hiss, and they set off toward the Batcave, the engine's low rumble filling the air.

"As soon as you were hit with the toxin, I ran after Scarecrow. I know you said not to but I couldn't just stand by," Y/n recounted. "He hit me with some kind of super version of his toxin... I blacked out and later woke up in his lab... He had saved my life," she reflected, still piecing together the surreal events.

"Scarecrow...saved you...after he was the one to endanger you..." Batman's voice betrayed a hint of skepticism.

"Exactly... He said he mistook me for you and used a more lethal toxin," Y/n clarified.

Batman mulled over the information, "This must be part of some elaborate scheme."

"...When I was unconscious, he took off my mask," Y/n added quietly, the weight of her vulnerability in that moment hanging between them.

"We can't change what's happened," Batman responded with an unexpected calm. "For now, you need to stay at the batcave."

Y/n understood the protective gesture, Batman was ensuring her safety. This meant her encounters with Scarecrow would be on hold, a disappointing, yet perhaps for the best, turn of events.

Upon their arrival at the Batcave, Bruce insisted on conducting his own check up of Y/n to ensure her well-being. As he meticulously checked her condition, Y/n found her thoughts drifting back to Scarecrow.

The lanky figure behind the coarse, burlap mask now intrigued her more than ever. Despite her efforts to thwart his plans and her alliance with Batman, Scarecrow had spared her life. His actions defied the logic that he should have seen her as a direct threat, deserving of his lethal wrath.

Throughout their encounters, Scarecrow had consistently avoided using his fear toxin on her, opting for less harmful methods. And on the one occasion he did administer it, he promptly provided an antidote and went as far as looking after her back at his lab.

What puzzled her further was his reluctance, or perhaps refusal, to let her leave. There seemed to be an underlying reason he didn't want her to go, adding layers to his already complex persona. This unexpected mercy and the mystery shrouding his true intentions only deepened Y/n's curiosity about the man beneath the mask.

Y/n's second week interning at Arkham was unfolding better than she'd anticipated. Tasked with interacting with the less dangerous patients, she found them peculiar yet unexpectedly sweet, a stark contrast to her initial assumptions. Each person, in their own right, contributed to the unique tapestry of Arkham's inhabitants.

Walking through the asylum's corridors on her way to Dr. Young's office with a stack of files in hand, Y/n was absorbed in her thoughts, hardly aware of her surroundings. This lack of attention led to a collision with a passerby, resulting in her files scattering across the floor.

"Shit, sorry," she blurted out, immediately kneeling to gather the scattered documents.

The individual she bumped into stood frozen, offering no assistance or reaction. Once she collected her files and stood up to face him, she found herself looking at a tall, slender man adorned with rectangular, wire-framed glasses, his expression one of bafflement.

"Sorry, I wasn't paying attention," she said, hoping to break the ice.

Yet, the man remained silent, his eyes wide and mouth slightly open, offering nothing but a fixed stare. With an awkward smile, Y/n excused herself, moving past him to continue on her way.

"Sorry, again... Have a good day," she added, before turning her focus forward and spotting Dr. Young near her office.

"Met Dr. Crane, have you?" Dr. Young asked, observing the scene.

Glancing back, Y/n saw the man, now identified as Dr. Crane, retreating hastily down the hallway.

"Apparently. He a quiet one?" Y/n asked, intrigued by the unusual man.

"Not at all," Dr. Young confided with a hint of amusement. "He's known for being quite outspoken and, frankly, a bit abrasive. But let's keep that between us."

Y/n let out a soft chuckle, appreciating the candid insight. Together, they proceeded into Dr. Young's office. As they delved into their tasks and discussions, the brief encounter with Dr. Crane swiftly faded from Y/n's mind.

Barely two hours had passed, with Y/n engrossed in her task of organizing files, when Dr. Young re-entered the office, fresh from her break.

"It seems you've caught the attention of Dr. Crane," Dr. Young remarked as she stepped inside.

Y/n glanced up, puzzled. "Huh?"

Dr. Young, settling into her chair with a chuckle. "Well, in the cafeteria, Dr. Crane cam up to me out of the blue to ask about you. Considering he never engages in conversation unless it's strictly necessary, that was quite the surprise!"

Curiosity piqued, Y/n continued, "What exactly did he ask about?"

"Just your name and your role here," Dr. Young replied with a smile.

The thought of garnering anyone's interest, let alone Dr. Crane's, hadn't crossed Y/n's mind. Yet, she brushed it off, doubting it would have any significant impact on her internship.

Back at her home, Y/n found herself sprawled on her bed, engulfed in the unfamiliar territory of idleness. With Bruce sidelining her from night patrols, the once exhilarating darkness of Gotham's nights now stretched endlessly before her, filled with nothing but the quiet.

Letting out a sigh, she flung her book aside, a tangible sign of her growing restlessness. Reluctantly, she rose and drifted towards her computer, where the glow of her screen illuminated tabs of research left untouched since yesterday. Though the news articles of Scarecrow she had found offered little in the way of breakthroughs, she held onto the hope they might yet yield something of value.

It was then that a sudden thud against her window broke the silence, startling her. Turning to look, she expected to find nothing more unusual than a disoriented bird that flew into it. However, the repeated thudding suggested this was no ordinary accident.

With a sigh, Y/n approached the window to investigate. A crow was the culprit, determinedly striking the glass over and over. Attempting to shoo it away with a tap against the window proved futile, the bird was either stubborn or really dumb. About to turn away in defeat, Y/n noticed something clutched in the crow's beak, she naturally had to investigate.

Concerned it might be choking, she opened the window to offer assistance. The crow, uninvited, hopped boldly into her room and onto her bed.

"Hey! You’re gonna get my shit all dirty!" Y/n protested, trying to usher it off.

Yet the crow remained unbothered, stationed firmly on her bed. With a curious tilt of its head, it released its hold, letting the object, a piece of paper, fall onto her duvet.

Realizing the crow was unharmed, Y/n let out a sigh. "Okay, you can leave now," she suggested, gesturing towards the open window.

However, the crow remained stationary, its gaze fixed on her as if it had more to say. They stared at one another awkwardly, the air between them thick with uncertainty. The crow nudged the piece of paper with its beak, then lifted its eyes to hers, prompting her attention.

Reluctantly, Y/n shifted her focus to the paper, curiosity getting the better of her. The paper was torn and foled. She unfolded the ripped fragment to reveal a message that sent a jolt of shock through her.

'Found you.'

The simplicity of the message belied its ominous intent, transforming her initial confusion into a wave of dread. "Holy fuck," she muttered, her pulse quickening.

As if its mission was accomplished, the crow took its leave, soaring out the window. Y/n raced to the window, a futile attempt to keep it from leaving. "Oi!"

But her plea vanished into the night, leaving her to face the silence of her room. The solitude that had once been merely boring now felt ominously oppressive.

How had Scarecrow found her? The question echoed in her mind, a reminder that her sense of security was more fragile than she had ever imagined.

Y/n wasted no time in dialing Bruce's number, her fingers trembling with anxiety as she waited for him to pick up. When he finally answered, she didn't bother with pleasantries.

"He found me," she blurted out in a tense whisper.

"Y/n? What are you talk-?" Bruce paused. “How?”

"I don't know how he did it, Bruce. There's no way he could have tracked me from that night," Y/n replied, her nerves palpable. “He sent his fucking pet crow, or something to my window with a little note saying he found me.”

"I think it would be safest for you to stay at my place for a while," Bruce suggested, his tone urgent.

"Yeah, but what if he figures out… you know?" Y/n's worry crept into her voice.

"Is there anywhere else you can go?" Bruce asked, his concern evident.

Y/n's mind raced, but she couldn't think of any safe alternatives. "Not really," she admitted reluctantly.

"Okay, just stay safe. I'll be checking up on you," Bruce instructed firmly.

"I'll do my best," Y/n sighed, feeling a sense of dread settle over her as the call ended.

She dropped her phone on her bed along with herself. Sitting on her bed, she ran her hand down her face groaning. She just prayed he was as nice as he was the night before.

The next day, Y/n felt a sense of unease as she walked through the corridors of Arkham towards Dr. Young's office. Upon entering, she was met not only by Dr. Young, but also by the presence of Dr. Crane.

"Good morning, Y/n. I'm sure you're acquainted with Dr. Crane by now," Dr. Young gestured towards the man in the room.

Y/n nodded awkwardly, turning her attention to Dr. Crane. "Hello, Dr. Crane," she greeted, extending her hand for a shake.

"Miss L/n," he replied, his voice crisp and professional as he took her hand.

There was something strangely familiar about his touch, though Y/n couldn't quite place it. Brushing it off as mere coincidence, she focused on the conversation at hand.

"Well, we've decided to switch things up a bit and provide you with more opportunities around the asylum. Today, Dr. Crane has kindly offered to mentor you instead of me," Dr. Young explained.

Y/n nodded, trying to maintain her composure. "Oh... cool," she replied, though her uncertainty lingered beneath the surface.

"My work primarily focuses on the higher-risk patients, so today I'll be showing you around those areas of the asylum," Dr. Crane explained, his hands clasped behind his back.

"Alright, shall we get started?" Y/n asked, eager to begin.

"Certainly," Dr. Crane replied, opening the door for Y/n to exit first. She thanked him and stepped into the hallway, where Dr. Crane joined her.

"So, Miss L/n, what led you to Arkham?" Dr. Crane inquired, initiating conversation.

"Well, I studied at Gotham University for five years and managed to get an internship here. It's an opportunity I couldn't pass up," Y/n replied.

Dr. Crane nodded, showing interest. "You're interested in psychology, I assume?"

"Naturally," Y/n confirmed.

"And outside of Arkham, how do you spend your time?" Dr. Crane asked, delving deeper.

Y/n wasn't prepared for such a personal question, and she found herself struggling to formulate an answer. In truth, much of her time was split between intensive research and her activities as a vigilante. "Uh... research mostly," she replied, keeping her answer vague.

"Any specific areas of focus?" Dr. Crane probed further.

"Primarily psychology-related topics, and occasionally delving into articles about various personalities in Gotham," Y/n answered, trying to keep her response casual.

"Ah, the Gotham Rogues, I presume? Have any in particular piqued your interest?" Dr. Crane inquired, his gaze lingering on her as they made their way towards the elevator.

Y/n had been informed by Dr. Young that small talk was rarely on Dr. Crane's agenda, suggesting his continuous questions might stem from a lack of social que. Yet, as a psychiatrist, his understanding of social dynamics should be adept, making his approach puzzling.

"Ah, well... each of them are interesting in their own way, to say the least," Y/n replied, deflecting deflecting to keep the conversation neutral.

Acknowledging her response with a nod, Dr. Crane diverted his eyes ahead, the silence momentarily enveloping them as they approached and entered the elevator. With a practiced motion, he swiped his keycard and selected their destination floor.

The elevator began its descent in silence, the hum of its mechanism filling the small space. Dr. Crane stood with a composed posture, hands clasped behind his back, while Y/n could feel the tension in the air, an undercurrent of unspoken thoughts swirling between them.

After a moment, Dr. Crane broke the silence. "The study of fear is particularly fascinating, don't you think?" he started, his tone measured, eyes fixed on the elevator doors as if addressing the question to himself. "It's primal, yet so complex. A fundamental emotion that can be both a hindrance and a survival mechanism."

Y/n, caught off guard by the sudden shift in conversation, nodded in agreement. "Yes, it's quite a paradox. It shapes so much of human behavior, yet we understand so little about its underpinnings."

The elevator dinged, announcing their arrival at the high-risk patient floor. As the doors slid open, Dr. Crane stepped out, gesturing for Y/n to follow. "Indeed. And it's within these walls that fear becomes a canvas, each patient painting their own portrait of terror."

The topic of their conversation enveloped Y/n in a sense of unease. While it was natural for a psychiatrist to delve into subjects like fear, given her recent unsettling situation, discussing it now stirred an unwelcome and deep-seated discomfort within her.

They walked through a secured door after Dr. Crane keyed in a code, entering a corridor lined with reinforced glass cells. The patients inside varied in their reactions to the newcomers, some pressed close to observe them, others retreated into shadows, and a few remained indifferent, lost in their own worlds.

"As you'll see today, our approach to treatment varies greatly, tailored to each patient's specific needs and... inclinations," Dr. Crane continued, leading Y/n past the cells. "Observation and understanding is key. Fear can be both a lock and a key in our field."

Y/n felt a chill run down her spine, not just from the atmosphere of the high-risk ward but from Dr. Crane's words. They echoed with a depth of knowledge and an intensity that felt almost too personal, as if fear itself was a familiar friend to him.

As they continued their tour, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling that Dr. Crane was studying her just as much as he was explaining the procedures and philosophies of Arkham Asylum. There was a calculated curiosity in his gaze, a probing quality that made her wonder what he saw when he looked at her.

Their footsteps echoed softly as they walked through the corridor, eventually halting in front of a door.

"This," he announced, ushering the door open with a gentle push, "is my office."

Crossing into the new space, Y/n found herself standing somewhat awkwardly, uncertain of what was to come next.

"I have a few patient appointments scheduled today. You'll have the opportunity to observe. But first, there are some reports I need to deal with. I imagine you have tasks of your own to do in the meantime?" he suggested.

With a nod from Y/n, he settled into his chair behind the desk, drawing out several files and a pen. As he began to write, Y/n couldn't help but observe him, a sense of déjà vu washing over her. There was an inexplicable familiarity in his presence that she couldn't quite identify.

Catching her gaze, he looked up, peering over his glasses. "Is there something on your mind?" he asked.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, considering her response carefully. She wasn't sure if she should bring up her recent encounter with the Scarecrow, especially given Dr. Crane's interest in fear and psychology. But something about his demeanor encouraged her to speak up. She cracked it down to the fact that he was around higher risk patients at arkham so he should understand.

Y/n hesitated for a moment, choosing her words carefully. She didn't want to alarm Dr. Crane or reveal too much about her involvement with Gotham's underworld.

"Well, actually..." she began, her voice measured. "I recently had a rather unusual encounter with someone who... operates outside the norms, let's say."

Dr. Crane raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Go on," he prompted, leaning forward slightly.

"There's this... guy," she began, her voice thoughtful. "Who put me in a rather diffucult situation. But instead of leaving me in trouble, this guy… helped me. He claimed that his actions were never intended to inconvenience me, but rather someone else entirely. It's all rather confusing to me."

As she spoke, Dr. Crane listened attentively, his analytical gaze fixed on her. There was a calculating intensity in his eyes that sent a shiver down her spine, but she pushed past it, determined to convey the essence of her experience without divulging too much.

He leaned back in his chair, tapping his fingers thoughtfully. “Why do you think he wouldn’t have helped you?” he asked.

“Well this... guy... well, he’s not exactly known for his generosity,” Y/n said, choosing her words carefully.

"I see," he murmured, his tone contemplative. "It seems you've had quite the... encounter."

Y/n nodded, relieved that she had managed to convey the situation without revealing too many details.

“Well... what about the situation confuses you?” he asked.

“The fact that he helped me, I just don’t understand it,” Y/n said.

“Had you encountered this individual prior to that?” Dr. Crane inquired.

“Yes, and he wasn’t particularly pleasant,” Y/n replied.

“Perhaps he had a change of heart, felt remorse... or maybe you interested him in some way,” Dr. Crane suggested.

Y/n recognized that Dr. Crane might not offer much assistance, especially since her account was far from the complete truth, but she valued his perspective.

“Yeah... maybe,” she said, considering his viewpoint.

The two appointments proceeded smoothly. The first patient was a paranoid individual, tormented by incessant fears of lurking threats in the shadows. As for the second patient was a woman struggling with intense anxiety and recurring nightmares. Dr. Crane navigated through their sessions with his calmness and precision, offering insightful observations and gentle guidance.

As the day progressed, Y/n found herself drawn into the complexities of the patients' minds, witnessing firsthand the challenges they faced and the therapeutic approaches employed by Dr. Crane.

By the end of the day, Y/n felt a newfound respect for Dr. Crane's expertise and a deeper curiosity about the human psyche.

Leaving Arkham, they boarded the Akrham train heading to the city center. "I trust today has been insightful for you," Dr. Crane remarked as they found their seats.

The clatter of the train tracks provided a rhythmic backdrop to their conversation as they settled into their seats. Y/n nodded, reflecting on the day's events. "Definitely," she replied. "It's given me a lot to think about."

Dr. Crane inclined his head, his gaze thoughtful. "Understanding the human mind is a continuous journey, filled with both challenges and revelations," he remarked. "But it's a journey worth undertaking."

Y/n nodded in agreement, absorbing his words. As the train rumbled on, she noticed that her stop was nearing.

"Thank you, Dr. Crane. You've been a really amazing mentor today," Y/n expressed her gratitude.

Dr. Crane nodded, acknowledging her gratitude. "You're welcome, Y/n. If you ever need any guidance or have any questions in the future, feel free to reach out," he said, his tone surprisingly warm.

As the train slowed to a stop at Y/n's station, she gathered her belongings and stood up. "I'll keep that in mind. Thank you again," she said, offering a polite smile before stepping off the train.

"Have a safe walk home," Dr. Crane bid farewell as the train doors slid shut.

As she walked away from the station, Y/n couldn't shake the feeling of curiosity about Dr. Crane. There was something intriguing about him, something she couldn't quite put her finger on. But for now, she pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the rest of her day ahead.

Alone in the dark, a wave of fear washed over her. Her home was just a ten-minute walk from the station, but after receiving that ominous message yesterday, she felt more uneasy than usual.

The usual nightly weirdos on the street didn't bother her much, no, it was the thought of encountering Scarecrow that sent shivers down her spine.

As she walked, a group of guys stepped out from a dark alley, eyeing her with leering grins. "Hey, sweetheart, looking for some company?" one of them called out, his tone dripping with sleaze.

Y/n rolled her eyes, unimpressed by their attempts to intimidate her. "Sorry, boys, not interested," she replied, quickening her pace.

As they closed in, Y/n sprang into action with lightning speed. In one fluid motion, she lunged towards the nearest assailant, her hands moving with precision. With a swift twist, she disarmed him, the weapon clattering to the ground with a metallic clang.

Before the others could react, Y/n hit him with calculated strikes, each one finding its mark with pinpoint accuracy. With each opponent she incapacitated, the threat diminished, until finally, all that remained was a pile of defeated adversaries at her feet.

Just as she thought the situation was under control, a familiar chill ran down her spine. The dim streetlight cast eerie shadows as Scarecrow emerged from the darkness, his silhouette looming ominously. Y/n's heart raced, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

The air seemed to thicken with tension as Scarecrow's gaze swept over the scene. She braced herself as the Scarecrow raised his hand, expecting the worst. Shielding her face, she awaited the inevitable assault, but instead, she heard screams erupting behind her.

Reluctantly lowering her arms, she turned to witness a man writhing on the ground, his cries echoing through the deserted street beside a discarded firearm. Her gaze snapped back to the Scarecrow, her eyes widening in astonishment.

"One missed," he remarked coolly.

“Scarecrow…” she uttered, caught between greeting him and still processing the situation.

“Y/n,” he acknowledged.

“So...you know my name now,” she remarked, her tone barely masking her worry.

“Would you prefer I call you Batgirl still?” he asked, sarcastically.

“I suppose there’s no point,” Y/n shrugged, conceding to the truth.

Observing him in the dimly lit street, she couldn't help but notice his eerie yet intriguing presence. “Nice suit,” she commented, attempting to break the tension.

“Thank you,” he replied courteously, his mask concealing any expression.

Despite his seemingly benign demeanor, she couldn't shake off her unease about his sudden appearance. “What are you doing here?” she probed cautiously.

“Making sure you got home safely,” he responded matter-of-factly.

“You’re following me?” she questioned, her suspicion growing palpable.

“Looks that way,” he confirmed, his voice protraying no hint of emotion.

“...I’ll be off then,” she stated, turning to head back home.

His footsteps echoed behind her, prompting her to halt and face him. “You’re still here?”

"You don’t think I was just going to leave,” he remarked.

“Then can you at least not stalk behind me?” Y/n requested, her tone surprisingly composed despite her lingering unease.

Closing the distance between them, he fell into step beside her. “You know Batman might find you,” she warned.

“Not tonight, I saw him off chasing the Penguin,” he assured her.

Y/n looked ahead, contemplating their unusual companionship. “So… are you going to hurt me?” she questioned, her voice hinting her vulnerability.

“I didn’t hurt you before, why would I now?” he countered.

“Well, why else are you here?” she pressed, her curiosity piqued.

“It was you that said you’d ‘see me around’,” Scarecrow reminded her.

She recalled their earlier exchange, surprised that he remembered. “I didn’t think you’d remember… or care,” she admitted.

They lapsed into silence for a moment before Y/n broke it. “How did you find me?” she asked the question that was weighing on her mind since she got the note.

“It was coincidence,” Scarecrow replied cryptically.

“Seriously! That's all?” Y/n protested.

“I saw you... and gaining access to you was a simple matter after that,” he explained.

Y/n paused, contemplating the implications of his words.

“Wait, so you mean to say... Did I see you around?” Y/n's curiosity peaked.

Scarecrow's silence spoke volumes, confirming her suspicions. Y/n's mind raced, attempting to pinpoint any instance where she could have crossed paths with Scarecrow during the day, but nothing came to mind.

"You're annoying, you know that? Why can't you just tell me who you are?" Y/n pressed, frustration lacing her words.

"And give you the chance to share with your caped crusader? I think not," Scarecrow retorted with a hint of amusement in his distorted voice.

Y/n scowled, "This is bullshit. What kind of friend are you?"

"Friend?" Scarecrow echoed, a note of mock surprise in his tone.

Realizing she had referred to him as a friend, Y/n hesitated, "Well… I don’t know."

"Considering me a friend? That's rather... optimistic of you," Scarecrow jested.

"You know what? Fuck you," Y/n snapped, pushing him away in annoyance.

Scarecrow's laughter, distorted and chilling, filled the air.

"About that crow yesterday..." Y/n shifted the topic.

"Ah, yes, Craw," Scarecrow interjected.

"Craw... you named your bird after the sound it makes? What are you, five?" Y/n couldn't help but mock his choice.

"Feeling particularly bitey today, aren't we?" Scarecrow remarked with a hint of amusement.

"I'm just pointing out the obvious. You could have called him anything and you settled on 'Craw'? It's like naming a cat 'Meow' or a dog ‘Woof’," Y/n countered.

"I doubt your question was solely to critique my naming choices," Scarecrow deflected, steering the conversation forward.

"So, you have a trained crow... cool," Y/n conceded.

With a snap of his fingers, Scarecrow summoned the crow, which gracefully swooped down to perch on his shoulder.

"Fuck, that’s impressive," Y/n admitted, genuinely taken aback.

"He's a good companion," Scarecrow acknowledged, affectionately caressing the crow's feathered chest.

"And yet, when I mention friendship, I'm desperate?" Y/n teased with a scoff.

"I'm merely taken aback... You haven't even tried to call Batman on me yet," Scarecrow observed.

"Well, if he can have his criminal friend, I don't see why I shouldn't either," Y/n reasoned, thinking about Bruces weird thing with Catwomen.

"It only seems fair," Scarecrow conceded with a nod.

As they approached her apartment complex, Y/n paused and faced Scarecrow.

"I guess this is where I leave you," she remarked, a hint of reluctance in her tone as she gestured towards the looming building of her apartment complex.

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, his gaze lingering on her for a moment longer than usual. "Seems so. You'll be safe here, I presume?"

Y/n couldn't help but feel a pang of irony at the question, considering who it was coming from. "Yeah, I'll be fine. Thanks for helping me back there," she quipped, offering him a small, genuine smile.

Scarecrow nodded once, sharply, as if dismissing any need for gratitude. "Take care, Y/n."

With those parting words, he turned and disappeared into the shadows from where he came, leaving Y/n to stare after him for a long moment. Shaking her head slightly, as if to clear it from the surreal encounter, she turned and headed towards her apartment, her mind swirling with thoughts about the night's events and the enigmatic figure that had just left her side.

The anticipation for her next encounter with Scarecrow had always been tinged with impatience, but now, there was a distinct shift in her desires. Gone was the sole focus on capturing him, instead, she found herself wanting to talk, even hang out with the guy.

Wandering the corridors of Arkham, her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by an exasperated shout not far from her location. “Damn bird!” echoed off the sterile walls.

Curious, Y/n turned on her heel to investigate. A large bird flying through the hallway, causing a commotion. But this was no ordinary crow, as it swooped closer, she recognized it instantly. Craw, Scarecrow's supposed good companion.

As the crow landed gracefully before her, Y/n crouched down, gently scooping him up. The security guard, panting from the chase, approached with a look of annoyance plastered across his face.

“Stupid bird,” he muttered, reaching out to snatch Craw away.

Y/n, cradling the crow protectively, assured him, “It's fine, I've got this. I'll make sure he's put outside.”

The guard, too worn out to argue further, simply shrugged and departed. Alone now, Y/n shifted her focus to Craw, who seemed quite content in her grasp.

Noticing a piece of paper held in his beak, she gently grabbed it, speaking softly to the crow, “Hey there, pretty. How did you manage to find me here?”

Placing Craw on her shoulder, she unfolded the note.

‘I’ll see you tonight.’

A smile unknowingly crept across her face as she read the message. Shortly after, Craw took flight from her shoulder, darting down the corridor.

“No! Craw, I need to take you outside!” she called after him, her plea falling on deaf ears.

With a resigned sigh, she watched him disappear deeper into the Asylum. “Well, he's someone else's problem now.”

Despite the mild chaos, the note clutched in her hand warmed her heart, igniting a flutter of excitement for what the evening might bring.

The walk home felt different for Y/n this evening. Each shadow cast by the dim streetlights seemed to promise the appearance of Scarecrow, echoing his note that said they would meet again. With every step, her anticipation grew, turning each corner with a mix of eagerness and anxiety, expecting to find him waiting in the familiar alley where their paths often crossed. But tonight, the alley remained empty.

The silence of the alleyway, usually filled with the tension of their encounters, now hung heavy with disappointment. She lingered for a moment, scanning the shadows and empty spaces where he might have stood, half-hoping for the rustle of his coat or the soft click of his approach. But there was nothing. Just the quiet of the night and the distant hum of the city.

As she continued her walk home, the excitement that had quickened her steps faded into a dull ache of letdown. Thoughts raced through her mind, pondering why he hadn't appeared. Had something happened to him? Had Batman managed to intervene?

Reaching her apartment, Y/n couldn't shake the sense of solitude that enveloped her. Inside, the quiet of her home only amplified her disappointment. With a heavy sigh, Y/n resigned herself to the evening's solitude, dropping onto her bed.

As she lay in the quiet of her room, Y/n found herself wrestling with thoughts that mocked her for entertaining the idea of a friendship with someone as complex and dangerous as Scarecrow. How could she, grounded in her own principles and duties, truly expect to build a connection with a figure who thrived in the shadows, a master of fear?

Her thoughts were abruptly interrupted by a thump against her window. Startled, she glanced up, only to find the familiar silhouette of a crow striking the glass. Hurrying over, she opened the window, allowing Craw to flutter into the room. Peering out the window, her pulse quickened at the sight below.

Scarecrow stood on the ground, gazing up at her with his usual get-up.

"May I come up?" his voice floated up to her.

Without hesitation, she swung onto the fire escape, releasing the ladder for him. As he ascended, a mixture of surprise and anticipation filled her.

"Why are you here?" she inquired, as he stepped through the window into her room.

"I said I'd see you tonight," he replied.

"I thought you’d just walk me home," she admitted, a smile playing on her lips despite herself.

"Indeed, I intended to, but I was held up," Scarecrow said, his voice carrying a touch of regret.

Inside her room, with the city's night as their backdrop, she couldn't help but jest, "So, the man behind the mask has a life?"

Scarecrow chuckled below the mask, “That I do.”

Now settled in her room, Y/n found a comfortable spot on her bed, her back resting gently against the headboard.

With a curious tilt of her head, she ventured, "Could I possibly hear more about the man beneath the mask?"

He hesitated for a moment before answering, "I was caught up at work, actual work, something that required my immediate attention."

This prompted Y/n to recall her little interaction with his crow eariler. "Speaking of work, how did you manage to send Craw into Arkham?" she asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Let's just say he found his way through a window," he replied,criptically.

Scarecrow chose a spot at the foot of her bed, directly opposite her, and gracefully seated himself. Craw saw it as an opportunity to hopped onto his thigh, finding comfort in his familiar presence.

As they sat in Y/n's room, the silence between them was palpable. Y/n couldn't help but feel a mix of emotions. Curiosity, apprehension, and a strange sense of comfort in Scarecrow's presence. She studied him closely, trying to decipher the man, but his expression remained hidden.

"So, what really brings you here tonight?" Y/n finally broke the silence, her voice betraying a hint of nervousness.

Scarecrow glanced at her, his gaze piercing. "I wanted to check on you," he replied simply.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, skeptical of his intentions. "Check on me?" she echoed, searching his face for any hint of deception.

"Yes," Scarecrow affirmed, his tone unwavering. "After our encounter the other night, I thought I should make sure you're okay."

Y/n's initial skepticism softened slightly, replaced by a flicker of surprise. Despite their strange relationship, Scarecrow's concern for her well-being was unexpected.

"I'm fine," Y/n reassured him, offering a small smile. "But why go through the trouble? You're not exactly known for your kindness."

Scarecrow's lips quirked into a faint smile, the gesture almost imperceptible. "Perhaps I'm not as one-dimensional as you think," he remarked.

Y/n's curiosity piqued at his response, but before she could delve further, there was a sudden knock on her apartment door.

“Y/n? I called you but you didn’t answer,” it was Bruce.

The sudden interruption sent Y/n's heart racing, a surge of panic flooding her as she heard Bruce's voice through the door. She momentarily froze, realizing the difficult situation she was in. Glancing frantically at Scarecrow, she leaped into action, her movements swift and desperate.

"Under the bed, now!" she hissed, urgency lacing her whisper as she practically shoved Scarecrow towards the hiding spot.

Without hesitation, Scarecrow complied, slipping under the bed. No sooner had he vanished from sight than Y/n dashed to the apartment's entrance, her mind racing with excuses.

"Hey, Bruce, sorry about that. My phone's been on silent, what’s up?" she managed to say with a feigned nonchalance as she swung the door open, greeting him with a practiced casualness.

"I said I'd swing by to check on you. Everything's been okay lately?" Bruce asked, stepping past the threshold with a concerned glance.

"Yep, all good here," Y/n replied, her voice steady despite the adrenaline coursing through her veins.

Y/n found herself desperately seeking a solution that wouldn't raise Bruce's suspicions, yet every moment he lingered increased the risk of Scarecrow's presence unmasking Bruce's own secret identity. Trapped between a rock and a hard place, she was at a loss, her mind racing for a strategy that seemed increasingly elusive.

Then, an ominous thump from her bedroom shattered the tense silence, causing her heart to plummet into her stomach.

"What was that?" Bruce's voice sharpened with alertness, his instinctive concern prompting him to move toward the source of the sound.

Y/n's anxiety reached it’s limits until, unexpectedly, a voice came from her bedroom. "Y/n? Who's at the door?" It was unmistakably Scarecrow, yet his voice was stripped of its usual menacing distortion, sounding disarmingly normal.

Panic painted Y/n's face with a stark shade of horror, a silent scream at the realization of her rapidly unraveling situation. However, Bruce's reaction took a turn Y/n hadn't anticipated. His expression, initially furrowed with concern, smoothly transitioned into an amused smirk.

"I didn't realize you had company. I'll leave you to your...guest," he said, his voice laced with an uncharacteristic lightness.

In that moment, Y/n's dread shifted to a baffling sense of relief to mild embarrassment. The flush of embarrassment that crept up Y/n's cheeks. The implication in Bruce's assumption that her "guest" was there for reasons more intimate was mortifying, yet it was a far more palatable scenario than him suspecting the presence of a notorious criminal in her bedroom.

"U-uh, yeah, sorry," she managed, her voice a mix of awkwardness and gratitude as she escorted Bruce to the door.

Pausing at the threshold, Bruce turned back to her, his expression lightly amused. "Have a good night," he said, his voice carrying a hint of jest before he delivered a playful wink and departed.

As Y/n closed the door behind him, a wave of relief washed over her, tinged with a lingering embarrassment. As Y/n reentered her bedroom, her gaze fell upon Craw, who had perched on the shelf by her door.

"Are you still hiding under my bed?" she asked, her knees pressing against the cool floor as she peered under the bed.

There he was, Scarecrow, his frame stretched out beneath her bed, an unexpected sight that was oddly endearing. "Yeah," came his muffled reply.

"It's safe to come out now," she assured him, her voice lifting with a mix of relief and warmth.

As Scarecrow emerged, his presence seemed to fill the room. "What was that thumping sound?" she asked, genuinely puzzled.

"Craw decided the door looked interesting," Scarecrow quipped, a hint of affection for the mischief-maker in his tone.

Y/n's eyes darted to Craw, her expression one of mock frustration. "You bloody bird!" she growled, though the crow seemed preoccupied with scratching his wing with his beak.

"And thank you, by the way. My heart nearly stopped when he headed towards my room," she admitted, her hands finding their way to her hips.

"Who was that, if I may ask?" Scarecrow's curiosity was evident, his head tilted.

"A friend," she answered simply.

"Just a friend?" he probed further, an edge of something playful in his voice.

"Jealous?" Y/n teased, a light chuckle escaping her.

"Should I be?" he parried, his voice laced with amusement.

Y/n's laughter filled the room, a sound of genuine amusement. "Bruce is just a friend. Though now he probably thinks I've got a secret lover stashed in here," she said, the humor in her situation not lost on her.

"Bruce? As in-" Scarecrow started, only for Y/n to jump in.

"Bruce Wayne? Yes," she confirmed, closing the loop on his thought.

"I would've expected the Batman, not Bruce Wayne," he mused, his voice carrying a note of mock disappointment.

"Batman wouldn’t bother with the front door, that’s for sure," Y/n laughed.

Y/n chuckled, her fingers idly tracing patterns on her bedspread. "So, did you... you know, take off the mask when you called out?" she asked.

Scarecrow's response was matter-of-fact. "Well, yeah. I don’t know if you can tell, but my voice isn’t naturally distorted," he pointed out.

Y/n's playful pout betrayed her teasing tone. "That's not fair! My room got to see your face before I did!" she exclaimed, feigning offense.

"Your room is quite the lucky spectator," he remarked, his tone filled with amusement.

"I bet you won’t show me cause you’re insecure," Y/n teased with a playful glint in her eye.

Scarecrow tilted his head. "Or perhaps I prefer the mystery. Keeps things interesting, doesn't it?" His voice was muffled slightly by the fabric covering his features.

Y/n laughed, shaking her head. "Interesting for you, maybe. I'm just sitting here guessing if you're secretly a model or if you've got a face only a mother could love."

"Guess you'll just have to keep wondering," he replied.

The room fell into a comfortable silence, filled only by the soft rustling of Craw shifting on his perch. Y/n found herself studying Scarecrow, trying to glean any hint of the man behind the mask from his posture, his movements, even the way he spoke. There was an undeniable curiosity bubbling within her, a desire to know more about the mysterious figure who'd become an unexpected constant in her life.

As the night wore on, their conversation flowed, ranging from trivial banter to more serious discussions about their contrasting views of the city they both operated in. Despite their differences, Y/n felt a strange sense of kinship with Scarecrow, a connection forged in the unlikeliest of circumstances.

Eventually, Y/n yawned, the lateness of the hour catching up to her. Scarecrow noticed, standing up from where he had been sitting. "I should go," he said, his voice carrying a note of reluctance.

Y/n nodded, feeling an unexpected twinge of disappointment at the thought of him leaving. "Yeah, I guess it's getting late."

As Scarecrow moved toward the window, Y/n called out, "Will I see you again?"

He paused at the window, turning slightly to look at her. "I'm sure you will," he said, a hint of a smile in his voice.

And with that, he slipped out into the night with Craw flying after him, leaving Y/n with a mix of emotions and the lingering thrill of their conversation.

After two calm weeks, Bruce finally agreed to Y/n resuming her nightly endeavors alongside him. Although he harbored lingering doubts about Scarecrow, Y/n managed to clam his concerns, assuring him that Scarecrow would not pose a threat.

As Y/n and Batman moved stealthily through the Narrows, the dense fog seemed to cloak their presence further, blending them into the night. This part of Gotham, with its tight alleys and towering buildings, felt like a world entirely its own.

"Keep your guard up," Batman whispered, his voice barely carrying over the mist. "The Narrows are unpredictable."

Y/n nodded, her senses on high alert. The Narrows always had a way of keeping you on your toes, its residents too used to the shadows. But tonight, there was an odd stillness, as if the very air was holding its breath.

Suddenly, Batman stiffened, his head tilting slightly, the universal sign that he was receiving a communication through the cowl's integrated comms. Y/n watched him, waiting for instructions, knowing that whatever had just come through could very well dictate their next move.

After a moment, Batman turned to her, the glow from the city behind him casting a shadow over his face. "Riddler's causing trouble downtown. I need to go now."

"I'll stay here. Keep an eye on things," she offered, already mentally preparing to handle the Narrows alone.

Batman nodded, a silent message of trust and confidence in her abilities. "Be careful," he said before grappling away, disappearing into the night sky.

Alone now, Y/n felt the weight of the silence around her. The Narrows, with its whispering shadows and secrets, suddenly seemed even more foreboding. She took a deep breath, centering herself. This was her domain too, her responsibility.

"Thought he’d never leave," came a voice below her, drawing her attention downward.

As Y/n leaned over the edge of the rooftop. To her surprise, Scarecrow stood on the balcony below, his figure illuminated by the faint glow of the city lights.

"You've been here the whole time?" Y/n exclaimed, taken aback by his sudden appearance.

"I've been waiting inside. The place was abandoned," Scarecrow replied calmly, gesturing towards the building behind him.

Y/n hopped down from the rooftop, landing gracefully on the balcony beside him.

"Wow, Batman and I need to step up our game," she remarked, impressed by Scarecrow's stealth.

"Haven’t seen you as Batgirl in a while," Scarecrow noted, his gaze lingering on her.

"Yeah, thanks to you. I was sidelined. Batman thought you were gonna go after me," Y/n explained, a hint of frustration in her voice.

"Keeping you safe. Wise man," Scarecrow replied cryptically, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head. "More like overprotective," she whined.

Y/n could hear Scarecrow smirk behind the mask. "He has reason to be. You're not exactly easy to replace."

Y/n rolled her eyes playfully. "Flattery will get you nowhere," she teased.

"Where's Craw?" Y/n asked, looking around.

"Is my presence not enough for you?" Scarecrow teased.

Y/n side-eyed him, and Scarecrow chuckled. "He's back at my lab."

Scarecrow leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze scanning the darkened streets below. "So, what's the plan now? Are you patrolling solo?"

Y/n nodded. "Looks like it. Batman got called away to deal with Riddler downtown."

Scarecrow hummed in response. "Well then, I guess it's just you and me tonight."

Y/n raised an eyebrow, a hint of skepticism in her expression. "You planning on causing any trouble?"

Scarecrow chuckled, shaking his head. "Not tonight."

They fell into an easy silence, the sounds of the city filling the air around them. Despite the darkness that surrounded them, Y/n couldn't help but feel a sense of camaraderie with Scarecrow, an unexpected ally in the night.

Y/n cast a sidelong glance at Scarecrow, noting the unusual cleanliness of his attire. "Not the usual tattered suit?" she pointed out.

Scarecrow glanced down at his suit. "Well, one has to look clean to impress," he replied, glazing at her.

"I'm sure Batman doesn't mind how you look," Y/n quipped, a playful glint in her eye.

Y/n leaned her back against the balcony railing, her gaze meeting Scarecrow's with a hint of mischief.

"Although, I must admit, the rugged look suits you," she teased, a sly smile playing on her lips.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, his gaze meeting hers with a spark of amusement. "Is that so? Perhaps I should stick to the tattered aesthetic then," he countered, his tone laced with flirtatiousness.

Y/n's laughter rang out across the night sky, the sound mixing with the distant hum of the city below. "You do you, Scarecrow. Just don't expect me to swoon over every torn thread," she replied, a playful glimmer dancing in her eyes.

Scarecrow leaned in slightly, his voice lowering to a whisper. "Ah, but what if I told you I have a whole wardrobe of tattered suits just waiting to impress you?"

Y/n chuckled, her heart fluttering at the playful tone in Scarecrow's voice. "Just for me? Scandalous.”

"Well, if torn threads won't do the trick, I'll have to find another way to catch your eye." Scarecrow added.

Y/n raised an eyebrow, her lips curling into a mischievous grin. "Oh? And what approach are you planning to take?"

He leaned in even closer, his gaze locking with hers. "I suppose I'll have to rely on my charming wit and irresistible charm," he replied, his tone filled with playful confidence.

Y/n chuckled, the sound light and melodious in the night air. "Smooth talker, are we?" she teased, her own playful demeanor matching his.

Scarecrow's grin widened, a glint of amusement dancing in his eyes. "Only when I'm in good company," he admitted, his voice softening slightly as he held her gaze.

Y/n's cheeks flushed at his words, her gaze lingering on his captivating eyes. "You certainly know how to flatter a girl," she teased, unable to suppress the flutter of excitement building within her.

Scarecrow chuckled softly, the sound sending a thrill through Y/n. "Only because you make it so easy," he murmured, his gaze holding hers with an intensity that left her breathless.

"If I weren't on duty, I might have been tempted to steal a kiss from you right here," she teased, her fingers playfully tugging at his noose.

With a wink, she turned on her heel and disappeared into the abandoned apartment, leaving Scarecrow to ponder her words.

"You never know, the night is young," he remarked, his voice laced with playful innuendo.

"Oh, but I could never kiss a man whose face I've never seen," Y/n remarked.

"Oh, but the mystery adds to the allure, don't you think?" Scarecrow countered.

Scarecrow chuckled, the sound echoing in the dimly lit room. "Who says you haven't seen it before?"

Y/n halted in her tracks, her eyes widening in surprise as she turned back to face him.

"So, I have actually seen you before?" she asked eagerly.

Scarecrow nodded, a hint of amusement in his demeanor. "Yes, indeed," he confirmed.

Her excitement grew, and she leaned in closer. "Did we talk?" she pressed.

"We did," he replied, a slight smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

Her disbelief turned into sheer astonishment. "Oh my god! Seriously? Can you tell me more?" she exclaimed.

"We had quite a conversation, and we crossed paths a few times afterward," Scarecrow disclosed.

Y/n racked her brain, trying to recall any details, but she was drawing a blank. Feeling frustrated and a little foolish for not making the connection, she sighed. Despite now knowing what he sounded like without the mask, she still couldn't piece it together.

"Holy fuck! That's incredible!" Y/n exclaimed, laughter bubbling up from within her. "Can you give me just a tiny hint about what you look like?" Y/n pleaded.

"Sorry, but that would spoil the fun," Scarecrow replied.

Y/n persisted, "Well, do you at least know if I find you attractive?"

"Why do you want to know that?" Scarecrow questioned.

"Because it might have to kiss you after all," Y/n teased.

Scarecrow considered her words before responding, "...I don’t know. You didn't seem particularly impressed when you saw me, you were just a bit awkward at first. But to be fair, so was I."

There was a hint of vulnerability in his tone, though Y/n couldn't be sure. "Perhaps my awkwardness was due to the fact I was starstruck?" she offered playfully.

Scarecrow sounded unconvinced. "Unlikely," he countered gently.

"Or… could it be because my attention was already captivated by someone else? Maybe a certain Scarecrow?" Y/n teased, aiming to lighten his spirits.

Scarecrow's demeanor shifted, his voice tinged with defensiveness. "Why the sudden interest, Batgirl? You've never shown any feelings towards me before. What's changed?" he asked.

Y/n found herself confused by the unfolding situation. When had she begun to flirt with Scarecrow, and why was she so invested in making him believe she was romantically interested? Whenever this change occurred, she didn’t mind it.

"Woah. You started this, and don't act as if you weren't flirting with me too," Y/n retorted.

Scarecrow's tone never softened, his eyes narrowing as he studied Y/n's face. "And if I was? What are your intentions, Y/n?" he asked.

"I don’t know! I was just bantering, playing along… what were your intentions then? How do I know you're not just leading me on so you can gas me again?" Y/n retorted, turning the tables on him.

This clearly offended Scarecrow. "You know it was an accident."

"Do I?" Y/n challenged.

Scarecrow's expression softened, a hint of regret in his eyes. "I didn't mean to hurt you," he said quietly.

Y/n felt a pang of sympathy. "I know," she replied softly.

They stood in silence for a moment, the weight of their conversation hanging in the air. Eventually, Y/n spoke up again. "Look, I didn't mean to upset you."

"Look, I didn't mean to upset you," Y/n said, her tone sincere.

Scarecrow took a deep breath, visible even through his attire. "And I apologize if I seemed defensive. It wasn't my intention."

Their eyes met, an unspoken understanding passing between them. Both were treading uncharted waters, neither sure of where the current would take them but willing to navigate it together.

"So, I've been meaning to ask," Y/n began, again with the playfulness in her voice, "do you wear contacts?"

Scarecrow tilted his head slightly, "Prescription ones, yes."

"But not colored?" she probed further.

"No, why do you ask?" Scarecrow's response carried a mix of curiosity and amusement.

Y/n's tone softened, warmth seeping into her words, "It's just that... you have really pretty eyes."

"Again with the flattery?" Scarecrow teased.

"It's just the truth," Y/n replied with a grin.

"And here I was thinking I might get a kiss," Scarecrow joked.

Y/n chuckled, shaking her head, "I told you, I’m not going to kiss a man I don’t know."

Scarecrow shrugged, a playful glint in his eyes, "That’s a shame."

The distant wail of sirens interrupted their banter.

"I should probably leave now," Scarecrow remarked.

"Yeah… see you later?" Y/n said, a hopeful note in her voice.

"Count on it. Until then... See you at Arkham," Scarecrow said, disappearing into the night.

Y/n's mind raced to piece together the puzzle he had inadvertently presented her. It took a moment for the realization to sink in, but when it did, her heart skipped a beat.

"Wait a minute!" she called out, but it was futile, Scarecrow was already gone.

Her mind buzzed with newfound clarity. Tall, lanky, formal speech, glasses, and now, a connection to Arkham. It all clicked into place with a sudden jolt of realization. How had she not seen it before?

"Holy fuck," Y/n breathed, her pulse quickening.

The pieces of the puzzle were finally falling into place, revealing a truth she couldn't ignore. Scarecrow... was someone from Arkham. And in that moment, a single name echoed in her mind with chilling clarity.

The conversations they'd shared, the topics they'd discussed, all pointed to one undeniable truth. His fascination with fear, his strange approach to their encounters, it was all too familiar now.

The memory of their first meeting flooded back, and suddenly, it made perfect sense. The shock on his face, the careful choice of words. It was Dr. Crane, right before her eyes.

Y/n couldn't believe she hadn't seen it sooner. How had she missed the signs? How had she not recognized the man behind the mask all along?

Now faced with this newfound knowledge, Y/n was at a crossroads. Should she maintain the facade of ignorance, carrying on as if nothing had changed? Or should she confront Dr. Crane, acknowledging the truth that lay between them? And what about the promise she'd made, the playful banter about kissing him. Was it all just a game, or did it hold deeper significance now?

One thing was certain, she couldn't risk revealing her discovery to Bruce. As she grappled with these thoughts, Y/n resolved to tread carefully, to navigate this delicate situation with caution. The truth had been revealed, but its aftermath remained to be seen.

Throughout the morning, Y/n felt restless as she awaited her encounter with Dr. Crane. Stuck in Dr. Young's office sorting files, she impatiently waited for the opportunity to find him.

As soon as she finished with the files, Y/n swiftly stored them away and left the office, determined to seek out Dr. Crane in the secure section of Arkham.

As Y/n made her way through the corridors of Arkham, her mind raced with anticipation. She had been waiting for this moment, hoping to confront Dr. Crane. Suddenly, she spotted him in the distance, his figure unmistakable amidst the gloom. Their eyes locked, and she saw a hint of amusement in his expression, as if he knew she was coming.

Her heart skipped a beat. Feeling a surge of determination, Y/n hastened her steps, closing the gap between them with purpose. As she reached Dr. Crane, she grabbed his arm firmly, surprising him with her sudden boldness. His smirk widened slightly, betraying a mixture of surprise and curiosity at her actions.

Without uttering a word, Y/n tugged him along, leading him towards his office. Dr. Crane offered little resistance, seemingly taken aback by Y/n's assertiveness. As they entered the office, Y/n swiftly closed the door behind them and turned the key in the lock, sealing them inside.

"You sly motherfucker," Y/n breathed out.

Entwining her fingers in his hair, she drew him closer, her lips crashing against his in a fiery embrace. The kiss ignited a whirlwind of emotions, fueled by pent-up desire and the thrill of discovery.

Caught off guard by Y/n's sudden boldness, Dr. Crane hesitated for a moment before surrendering to the intoxicating allure of her kiss. His hands found their way to her waist, pulling her closer as the intensity of the moment enveloped them both.

For a fleeting moment, the world outside seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of them in their own private universe of passion and longing. But as the kiss deepened, an obnoxious buzz interrupted the moment, reminding them of their surroundings.

Reluctantly breaking the kiss, Y/n and Dr. Crane gazed into each other's eyes, a mixture of surprise and desire reflected in their expressions.

"I... I didn't expect..." Dr. Crane began, his voice trailing off as he struggled to find the right words.

Y/n's heart raced as she searched his eyes for any sign of regret or hesitation. But instead, she found a spark of something else, a glimmer of longing and vulnerability that mirrored her own.

"I'm sorry," Y/n whispered, her voice barely above a breath. "I just couldn't resist."

She noticed a blush creeping up Dr. Crane’s cheeks as he adjusted his glasses.

"Am I fogging up your glasses?" Y/n teased.

Dr. Crane chuckled nervously. "Not disappointed, I see," he replied, his tone unable to hide his embarrassment.

Y/n smiled, her eyes twinkling with affection. "Now, I could never be disappointed in my Scarecrow," she said, her words filled with warmth.

Dr. Crane's blush deepened at the endearing nickname, but he tried to maintain his composure. "I hope you don't go around kissing all your superiors," he joked, attempting to deflect the attention.

Y/n grinned mischievously. "Just you, Dr. Crane," she said, her tone teasing yet sincere.

Dr. Crane's lips curled into a soft smile at her response. "Seeing as circumstances change, you can call me Jonathan," he offered, his voice tinged with newfound intimacy.

"Well, Jonathan… I'm glad to finally know the man behind the mask," Y/n said with a smile.

"You better not go off telling your bat friend about this," Jonathan warned playfully.

"And lose my nighttime companion? No way," Y/n retorted, a mischievous glint in her eyes.

Jonathan chuckled at her response. Y/n’s eyes drifted to the closed office door.

“We should probably be getting back to work now," Y/n said, a hint of reluctance in her voice.

"We should, yes..." Jonathan began, his gaze lingering on her. "But I've never been one to follow the rules too closely," he added, drawing her closer into his embrace.

Y/n chuckled softly, realizing she wouldn't be leaving the office anytime soon. With a smile on her lips and a newfound connection in her heart, Y/n embraced the unpredictable journey ahead, knowing that whatever was between them was going to be complicated. But as Jonathan's lips met hers once more, Y/n felt a rush of exhilaration, realizing that wouldn’t want it any other way.

A/N: Thank you so much for the request 💚 I really did enjoy writing this fic, enemies hit differently when it's in superhero fics and I love it. Even with the fic being 15k long, I wasn't sure how to make them 'lovers', so I ended up just making them playfully flirt and just turn it into real attraction cause...slay. So yeah, it's a bit fast paced but I am still happy with what I've written and I hope yous are too :) It took me quite a while to write as I've just been so busy with Uni and work lately, finding time between has been difficult. Thank you again and I hope you enjoyed 💚

#fanfic #jonathan crane #jonathan crane fanfic #jonathan crane x reader #dc scarecrow #cillian murphy scarecrow #batman scarecrow #the scarecrow #scarecrow #scarecrow x batgirl #batgirl #reader is batgirl #scarecrow x reader

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billiethepumpkin · 2 months

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Best Pain I Ever Felt: Eijirou Kirishima x Reader

Warnings: Rated R. This content is intended for readers ages 18 years or older. If you are a minor, do not interact.

Contains: Fem!Reader. Descriptions of violence. Descriptions of injuries. Emotional.

Featuring: Eijirou Kirishima.

Author's Note: All characters are written to be adults because I am an old fuck :)

You saw it on the news.

Everyone had. You had probably a dozen text messages and at least three phone calls from people who loved you asking if everything was alright, if you'd had any word.

If you had, your heart wouldn't be sitting in the soles of your shoes right now. It seemed impossible. Your mind was trying to convince you that you hadn't really seen what you just saw. But you did. There was no denying that it was real. You knew by the warm tears that fell down your cheeks without any beckoning.

Red Riot had taken on a massive attack. He had been fighting some villain that you had only heard of a couple of times. You guessed he was supposed to be a small time villain, but the way he was attacking Red Riot... It seemed relentless, like he was made for killing even the toughest heroes.

Red Riot, who took every hit without so much as flinching. Red Riot, who refused to let any of the pain show, no matter how badly it felt like his skin and bones were on fire. Red Riot, who kept going back for more, ready to defend his city and the rest of the world, if it came down to it.

Red Riot, who loved you deeply. Red Riot, who bought you flowers after any mission that kept him away overnight. Red Riot, who took baths with you and gave you massages, even though his work days were much more taxing than yours. Red Riot, who would go to the ends of the earth to protect you, to show you that he loved you.

The villain had tried to escape, but was so beaten and exhausted after his showdown with Red Riot that he was easily arrested. The last image of Red Riot that the news had shown was a split second of him knocked out on the ground, covered in scrapes and bruises, bleeding from the side of his head. You wondered how long it would be before somebody at the agency called you. It had already been twenty minutes. Maybe, you thought, their not calling was a good sign. Maybe it meant there was nothing to report, that everything was fine. Maybe it meant that he was okay.

Or maybe it meant that people at the agency were drawing straws to figure out who was gonna break the news to the boss's babygirl...

You couldn't sit there anymore. Someone had to know something about what happened. You tried to call the receptionist at the agency--nothing. You guessed it was kind of late, probably past her normal business hours. You tried to call a different agency number. And when that failed, you tried to call your husband's cell phone, because maybe someone from the agency had it and would be able to give you some kind of answer as to what the hell was going on.

No answer.

At this point, you stopped thinking. You got in your car and drove to the agency. Somebody had to tell you.

When you got there, the office was eerily quiet. You walked around for a little while. Finally, someone came walking down the hall in the opposite direction. "Hey, Ms. Y/N," he said. "You didn't hear? Red Riot's at the hospital."

After figuring out which hospital, you didn't even bother to say goodbye to the man as you rushed away. You begged the front desk at the hospital to give you any information on your boyfriend. But when she couldn't reveal anything to you for privacy reasons, one of Kirishima's sidekicks called to you from a few feet away. "He's going to be fine," he reassured you, leading you to a bench outside the room where he was resting. "He was hurt pretty badly. He has a concussion and a collapsed lung, along with needing several stitches and a heavy dose of pain meds. But he's okay."

For the first time since you watched the story on the news a little more than an hour and a half ago, you took a massive breath, your hand falling onto your chest in an attempt to ground yourself. You felt tears well up in the corners of you eyes. "Thank you," you muttered as the sidekick opened the hospital room door for you.

And there he was. Your Kirishima, wrapped up in bandages and hooked up to several monitors for his own health. His eyes were closed, resting. You could hear his labored breathing, even through the oxygen tube in his nose.

How could someone do this to another person? Someone as wonderful as him? You silently swore you were going to personally hunt down whoever had done this and take care of them yourself. Then you remembered they'd already been arrested. You guessed there wasn't much to be done about it.

You caressed his arm, still sweaty and covered in dirt after his fight. His eyes opened at your touch, and he looked right at you. "Hey, babygirl," he said, smiling sleepily.

"Hey," you said, your smile and tears intertwining. Your fingers laced with his, dried blood and debris now smearing over your hand. "How are you feeling?"

"Not bad right now," he answered. "Doc's got me on all kinda pain meds though."

"You scared the hell outta me," you whispered, quickly wiping the tears away before they could completely fall down your face.

Kirishima's hand reached up to hold your face, catching any of the tears that continued to fall, regardless of how you commanded them not to. "'m sorry, honey," he responded.

You shook your head and held his hand against your face "No, don't be sorry," you told him, kissing the dirty palm of his hand. Seriously, he just took a massive beating, and somehow he feels like he needs to apologize? "What did the doctor say?" you asked him. You already got some information before.

Kirishima took a deep breath. "Concussion. Collapsed lung," he said. "Doc said if everything looks good, I can go home tomorrow."

"That's good," you remarked. "I'm gonna take a few days off so you have an extra hand."

"You don't have to do that," he tried to say.

"I'm gonna take care of you," you told him.

"Pshh, I'm fine. You don't have to do anything for me," he tried to claim. Even in his words, you could tell that he was a little unsure. Red Riot was the toughest hero you knew. And Kirishima was the strongest man you knew, even beyond quirks. Kirishima moved a little, seemingly trying to move himself to the side a little. He winced with every single movement, shutting his eyes tight to brace himself against the pain. When he couldn't take it anymore, he gave up. He stopped moving and allowed tears to fall down his cheeks. "Shh, shh," you breathed, wiping his tears away. "It's okay. You're okay. Don't try to move."

"You mean to tell me I can't even make room for my girl on the bed?" he argued with himself. He was trying to make light of the situation, but his voice shook in frustration as he remembered just hours ago, when he was the hero people called when they needed someone tough. Now, he couldn't even shift his weight in a bed.

"I don't think you need to make room for me, babe," you rolled your eyes.

"Y/N, please," he asked. "Everything hurts, inside and out. I'm practically bedridden. All I want is to hold you. Please?"

You pressed your lips together, thinking of a response. You had half a mind to double down, to tell him you'd sit right next to him, but that he needed to rest in the bed. But you knew better than that. You knew he'd at least be here for the night, seeing as it was already almost nine o'clock at night. And you knew it'd be torture for him to not be able to do anything for himself the entire night. You could give him this one thing. You sat next to him on the bed, as closely as you could get to him, and you carefully laid your head on his shoulder. He was wincing before you even lowered your full weight onto him. Once you were fully situated, he took another deep breath, and his pain seemed to ease. "Does this hurt?" you asked, being careful not to press anywhere that would be too painful for him.

"Yeah," he asked, his face spreading into a sweet smile. "Best pain I ever felt."

#mha #bnha #mha fluff #bnha fluff #mha angst #bnha angst #mha kirishima #bnha kirishima #kirishima #kirishima fluff #kirishima angst #mha x reader #bnha x reader #kirishima x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 5 months

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You Make Me Wanna 2

Warnings: dark elements, noncon, age gap, best friend’s dad trope other dark elements. Proceed with caution.

Note: Please let me know what you think as it helps me a lot with ideas and I love interacting with you all.

Part of The Club AU

You duck your head just before you can glance off the metal. Walter shoves you into the passenger seat gruffly as you drunkenly gold against his strength. You dizzy pull your feet inside as he grips the door and barely get them out of the way before he slams it. You shake your head, try to break free of the haze. Ugh, too much vodka.

The car jostles as he rips open the driver's door and the axel dips beneath his weight. He growls as he snaps the door shut and ram the keys into the ignition. He lets the engine idle as he shifts in his seat. He slips his phone out and taps with his thumb. He could crack the screen. You grasp your own cell and check for messages.

He huffs and drops his phone in the cupholder. He pulls the seatbelt across his burly figure and clicks it into place. He glares over at you as he slaps a hand around the ridge steering wheel, "buckle up."

You obey. The nightstand taken a rotten twist and the sooner it's over the better. You just need to find Faye. You do up your belt and grab your phone again. You key in a message without a care for typos. Where is she? You suspect she might be too distracted to answer.

He reverses out sharply and you lean into the door. You look up, the streetlights glaring in your vision, then another light draws your attention. His phone is still bright. You squint at the map on the screen and the dot pulsing a couple blocks away.

"What the hell?" You bend to see clearer and he resches over to shove you back against the seat. "You're tracking her?"

"None of your business, " he sneers. "That's fucked up," you say. "You got a nasty mouth. Now I know where she got that from."

"I didn't raise her," you scoff. "Why the hell am I here if you got GPS on her--"

"Because for once you're gonna face consequences for your actions," he growls as he turns the corner without slowing down.

"Stop the car," you demand.

"Shut up."

"Stop!" You pull on the door handle futilely, "let me out."

"Don't do that," he barks as he keeps his foot on the gas.

"Let me out!" You raise your voice, "let me the fuck out, Walter."

"Mr. Marshall," he retorts meanly. "Stop fucking around."

"I said. Let. Me. Out." You hit his shoulder with your fist and the wheels swerve. He slams on the brakes and you lurch back in your seat.

"Hey!" He roars and reaches over to grab your wrist. He twists and you whine. "You're gonna get us fucking killed."

"No, you are."

"You ever shut that mouth," he sneers as you try to free your arm, only further stressing the tendon. You whimper and bring your other hand up to try to peel away his fingers.

"Let me go." He huffs and releases you.

You recoil and rub your wrist as you pout. You're quiet as you evaluate the throbbing in your muscles.

"You know, I don't think you'd want someone treating Faye like this," you murmur.

"Shut up," he mutters as he eases onto the gas.

"No, stop, I'm getting out."

"You're not going anywhere," he quickly builds speed again. "And you're not going to talk about my daughter again."

"Well... you put your hands on me. What kind of man--"

"I'd hate to think of the boys you call men," he spits.

You reel at his inference. Is he calling you a slut? He would laugh at the truth.

"Whatever," you cross your arms and sit back, fingers still tingling.

He drives on in silence, only his grumbles underlining his slow breaths. You don't get it. How is it always your fault? You got better grades than Faye, you did extracurriculars, it isn't your fault you couldn't afford tuition.

You don't spill any of these gripes to Walter. He would care. He doesn't care. He just needs someone to blame besides his precious daughter. If only he knew how many times you kept her from worse mistakes.

You peer out the window, yellow blocks of light flicking in between the dark. You had a bad feeling about tonight. You saw right through Faye. You knew she wasn’t coming for you. These days, your hang outs rarely end up being just that. You just don’t know why. She’s changed.

Or maybe she’s outgrowing you. She’s in college and you’re working down at the diner, scrounging tips to pay your mother’s rent. You slump down as the drunkenness coaxes your self-pity to the surface.

Your eyes wander across the dashboard. It’s not old and grimy like your mother’s used Chrysler. It has bluetooth and lights and the heat works. There isn’t a crack down the plastic and it doesn’t smell like cigarettes.

It was easier in high school to pretend you belonged with Faye. You still had that layer of naivete that made you believe things could get better for you. Well, life’s begun and you’re just the same as you ever were.

You’re rattled suddenly as he shakes you, his large hand on your shoulder, “wake up.”

“Hey,” you shrug him off, “I’m awake.” You swat him away again, “don’t touch me.”

He blows out between his lips and snorts, bringing his hand back to the wheel. You sit up and turn your eyes back out the window. He’s just another person in your life who thinks they can mistreat you. His temper tantrum is nothing to you, just like you’re nothing to him.

#walter marshall #dark walter marshall #dark!walter marshall #walter marshall x reader #night hunter #drabble #au #the club #you make me wanna

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queenstarlight2 · 2 months

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Please do an imagine for Feren; if you need an idea how about the reader being a nymph and helps heal Greenwood so he so yandere because they are perfect in his eyes. btw I love your writing! and I'm so happy your back!! 💕

What a creature (2K)

Feren the military captain, departed with a group of his trust-elven warriors group to investigate a disturbance at the edge of his king’s kingdom.

Upon arrival at the scene, Feren the leader encouraged his trusted elven warrior's group to tread lightly until they figured out what was going on.

As the group approached cautiously, Feren’s elf eyes could make out someone in the distance. Feren signaled for his soldiers to stop while carefully moving ahead toward the stranger alone. As he approached, he was struck by the stranger’s striking beauty seemingly young, delicate appearance.

Feren was taken aback by the stranger's ethereal and otherworldliness, he was captivated by her presence. He couldn't help but approach her, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. He came to a halt a few feet in front of her before speaking with a soft and gentle tone.

"Who are you?"

As Feren observed the stranger more closely, he noticed a faint aura of otherworldliness surrounding her, and as he turned to his surroundings, he realized she was using magic of some kind to heal the damaged and infected areas of Mirkwood forest. Taken aback by this, Feren couldn't help but take another step back before he spoke again.

"What… What are you doing to my king's forest?"

Feren's expression shifted between caution and awe as he observed the woman's actions. He didn't know if she was friend or foe, but something about her didn't seem threatening, and he was intrigued. He studied her further and noticed that she was much younger than he had first thought, perhaps even younger than he was, but her magic held a certain undeniable power.

As Feren stood before the young girl, his initial caution slowly melted away, replaced by a growing curiosity and fascination. Seeing the magic that she wielded, even to undo some of the damage to his king's precious forest, he also felt a strange sense of attraction towards the girl.

The more he thought about it, the more he found himself entranced by her. He could feel an unfamiliar fluttering in the pit of his stomach and butterflies in his chest as he looked at her.

After a few moments of awkwardly standing there staring at each other, the girl finally spoke up. Her voice was soft, almost hesitant, and there was a tinge of nervousness in it. The girl nervously played with a strand of her ethereal hair, trying to avoid eye contact with Feren. "I-I'm sorry," she said, her tone gentle. "I didn't mean to frighten you. I was just trying to heal some of the damage here in the forest."

Feren's initial stiffness melted away as the girl spoke up. He noticed her nervous mannerisms, the way she avoided eye contact and the gentle tone of her voice. Rather than feeling threatened, he found himself oddly enamored. He took a step closer to her, his expression softer and more attentive.

He held up a hand to stop his soldiers from interfering and gestured for them to stay back. He then turned his focus back to the girl. "It's alright," he assured her gently. "You didn't frighten me. I was just… surprised."

He took another step forward, standing directly in front of her now. He couldn't help but find himself captivated by her ethereal beauty. Her gorgeous hair, her delicate features, and the aura of magic surrounding her all seemed to draw him in. Despite her youth, she radiated a power that intrigued him. He chuckled softly, his eyes never leaving her face. "You're just a young girl. Where did you come from? And how do you have such magic at your disposal?"

The girl's nervousness seemed to slightly ease as Feren spoke to her with a gentle, non-threatening tone. She mustered up the courage to answer his questions, but her voice still held a hint of shyness.

"I-I'm not just a young girl," she replied, her voice soft and delicate. "I'm a nymph. We are… magical beings, connected with nature. My magic allows me to heal and maintain the balance of the forest."

Feren's eyes widened in surprise at her revelation. Nymphs were elusive creatures, living in harmony with nature and possessing powerful magic. For one to be in Mirkwood forest was both intriguing and unexpected. He took another step forward, his tall, muscular frame towering slightly over her petite form. There was a mix of fascination and caution in his expression, as if suddenly aware of the potential power she held. "A nymph…" he repeated, almost incredulously. "I've never met one before."

He took a moment to study her more closely, his gaze roaming over her slight form, the soft features of her face, and the strange markings on her arms. Seeing the magic aura surrounding her, he realized he was in the presence of something extraordinary. Involuntarily, he found himself taking yet another step closer to her. He was now standing mere inches away from her, almost as if pulled by an invisible force. He tried to maintain his composure, but there was something about her that was irresistibly attractive to him…

Feeling drawn to the nymph, Feren couldn't help but find himself wanting her to stay nearby. Taking a moment to collect his thoughts, he offered a proposition to her, his voice gentle yet firm. "You seem to have a unique power, a connection to the forest itself," he said, his eyes never leaving her face. "Perhaps you could… come back with us? We could provide you with food and lodging in the kingdom of Mirkwood."

As Feren gazed at the nymph before him, he felt his heart skip a beat. The way she stood there, her slight frame and delicate features, the soft magic aura surrounding her… all of it was irresistibly charming to him. Against his will, his eyes involuntarily softened and his expression turned somewhat sentimental as he looked at her. He took in a breath, his heart fluttering in his chest, and fought the urge to reach out and touch her.

As the nymph smiled gently, Feren found himself completely and utterly smitten with her. Her sweet smile and shy demeanor only served to fuel his growing attraction to her. His thoughts began to spin with possessive thoughts, and a hint of obsession started to grow inside of him. He leaned forward slightly, his eyes never leaving her face as he spoke in a soft, somewhat desperate tone. "Please… will you come with us? I'll make sure you have everything you need, a safe place to stay, anything…"

He took a step closer, closing the remaining distance between them. His eyes searched her face, taking in every delicate feature. He wanted nothing more than to take her into his arms and keep her safe and nearby, where he could protect her and indulge in her presence. His mind was filled with protective and possessive thoughts, a need to have her close and keep her for himself. But he did his best to keep it hidden, maintaining a facade of politeness and restraint.

The moment the nymph agreed to come back to Mirkwood with Feren and his patrol group, his heart practically leaped out of his chest. He couldn't believe his luck, that this incredible creature would now be staying nearby where he could see her every day. As he silently celebrated, his thoughts spiraled into admiration and fixation. He couldn't help but think that she was perfect, a being who could heal Mirkwood forest and his own soul with her mere presence.

As they began the journey back to Mirkwood's kingdom entrance, Feren found himself walking beside the nymph, his eyes often sneaking glances toward her. He couldn't help but be acutely aware of her every move, every sound she made, and every word she said. They walked in silence for a moment before Feren finally spoke up, his voice soft and filled with admiration. "So… um, can I ask your name, little nymph?

She smiled, and spoke kindly to him"I'm afraid my name is a very intimate matter, only for lovers"

The nymph's response left Feren's heart racing. It was a custom that nymphs only give their names to their lovers, a sign of deep intimacy and intimacy. An intimate secret. Feren couldn't help but feel a rush of emotions at that revelation. A part of him wanted to earn the privilege of having her name, to earn her trust and affection. He fought to keep his composure, trying to remain polite as he replied. "I understand… But how shall I address you then?"

The nymph shrugged slightly, her reply both teasing and soft. "You can call me whatever you like," she said, a hint of a smile playing on her lips. Feren's mind instantly began to race with possibilities, different pet names and affectionate terms swirling in his head. Each one felt so intimate, so personal… It took all his restraint not to blurt one of them out right then and there.

He cleared his throat, trying to steady his voice as he spoke again. "How about… sweetheart?" he suggested, the term of endearment rolling off his tongue. He glanced at her, waiting for her reaction, hope and anticipation in his eyes.

The nymph chuckled softly, a hint of bashfulness in her voice. "Sweetheart, is it?" she teased, a small smile on her lips. "I suppose it will do, for now at least." Feren let out a quiet exhale, relief and excitement flooding him. As they continued their journey and finally reached the halls of Mirkwood, he couldn't stop stealing glances at her, her every word and gesture sending a thrill through his body.

As time passed, the nymph's magic worked its wonders, slowly healing the infected areas of Mirkwood forest. Feren couldn't help but witness her incredible abilities, further fueling his admiration and fascination for her. With each passing day, Feren found himself falling more and more in love with the nymph. His thoughts were increasingly consumed by her, his heart swelling with an irrational yet intense affection. He yearned for her presence, for her smile, for her touch… For her to be his and his alone.

He began to make subtle changes to ensure her safety and comfort. He assigned his most trusted guards to discreetly watch over her and keep her from harm. He also made sure to frequently check in on her, his presence never far away. He took every opportunity to talk to her, to listen to her, to soak in her presence. His thoughts became increasingly possessive, his infatuation spiraling into an obsessive need to keep her close. The thought of her being with someone else, of her leaving Mirkwood… was unbearable to him.

As his infatuation continued to grow, Feren knew that he wanted to make the nymph's heart his. He began to slowly court her, using any opportunity he had to impress her and show her his affection. He would take her on secret walks through a part of the forest that was especially beautiful at night, he would bring her gifts like rare flowers and shiny stones, and he would engage in long conversations with her, learning everything there was to know about her.

He was never pushy or demanding, though. He knew that winning her affection would take time, and he was patient with her. He was happy just being around her, observing her, listening to her soft voice. But he was also acutely aware of his desires, of the possessive need that burned within him to claim her as his own.

As the days passed, Feren's patience was rewarded one evening when the nymph finally told him her name. The act was a sacred one, signifying her acceptance of him as a lover. Hearing her name, a feeling of utter elation and triumph washed over him. He repeated her name quietly, as if committing it to memory. He didn't want to forget it, ever. He knew now that he was one step closer to having her heart completely.

As the days turned into weeks and months, Feren and the nymph grew increasingly closer. Their love blossomed, becoming a beautiful bond that only grew stronger with time. Feren had always been protective and possessive of the nymph, but now that she had accepted him as her lover, his feelings only deepened. He vowed to always keep her happy, safe, and by his side. Their love story continued a tale of affection and devotion amidst the lush forests of Mirkwood.

#the hobbit #lotr imagine #lord of the rings #the hobbit headcanon #the hobbit x reader #lotr x reader #lotr elves #the hobbit headcanons #lotr headcanons #the lord of the rings #feren x reader #mirkwood

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flanaganfilm · 2 years

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I tend to get obsessed with scenes where actors have a particularly outstanding performance. I find myself revisiting them over and over again just to relive the moment. Several examples of this, but one that I just love is in Midnight Mass when Kate and Zach are on the rowboat. What's it like experiencing that live, during production? Are you aware in the moment of how special it is or does that become more evident in post? Love to hear any and all details behind the scenes of how those get made. Also curious what scenes from your favorite movies/TV standout as particularly compelling performances by the actors.

This scene is a strange one, because it was the first thing we shot of the whole series. We had been shut down since March 2020 when the initial COVID lockdown hit, and were the first show in North America to go back into production that summer. We didn't know how to do that, and were juggling constantly evolving safety protocols as we tried to figure out how to shoot in this new world. Because a lot of our sets weren't ready to shoot when we came back, we opted to start easy - on our stages, with blue screen work. The boat scene is shot entirely on blue screen, we didn't even have water - the boat was gently rocked back and forth by grips. Kate and Zach were asked to do this huge, heavy, insanely difficult and emotional scene ON OUR FIRST DAY. I had asked them a few weeks prior if they'd be okay with that, as I was worried - they hadn't built their characters yet. They hadn't put a single scene down to draw from. But both said they'd do it, and so we threw them into the deep end.

(That's DP Michael Fimognari in the boat, trying to adjust lighting through his goggles) It was a VERY weird day. We were all wearing KN95 masks and goggles, the actors had to wear full masks and face shields when we weren't rolling. It was absolutely surreal and just about impossible for anyone to get into any headspace that felt like we were doing scene work. I had been fitted with modified motorcycle goggles, as I needed eye protection to be near the actors (it was all more than a bit ridiculous.) There was a ladder on set - you can see it behind Michael in the picture above - and I started the day by climbing it to address the cast and crew. About ten words into my speech, my goggles completely fogged up and I couldn't see anymore. I had to be helped down the ladder by several grips. I remember the first rehearsal was insane because the actors weren't allowed to take off their masks, per Netflix safety protocols. I was also required to wear my mask and goggles throughout, so giving direction to actors who couldn't see my face was a brand new and deeply strange thing (I'd continue to work this way for the next two years, we all got used to it, but this first day was fucking WEIRD). Kate and Zach couldn't even really hear each other through the masks to rehearse, as it was such a quiet and intimate scene. I was standing a few feet away and couldn't hear a damn thing. It was additionally weird because all of the elements of the scene outside of the boat wouldn't be added for many, many months as we got into VFX. There was no water, no stars, nothing at all to look at but hanging blue curtains and masked crew members. I don't know how Kate and Zach were able to put all of that aside and deliver the performances they delivered - oh wait, I suppose I do know. It's because they are exceptional actors. Kate later told me she was so outside of her comfort zone that she had to just dive in and trust every single thing around her. The scenes in the boat ultimately came together beautifully, but I did apologize to both of them later in the shoot. It wasn't fair that we asked them to do that, to start like that, without letting them build any foundation. But both waved it off. Production is chaos, and that particular production was the very first out the gate with COVID, so everything was crazy. They took all of that vulnerability and uncertainty and discomfort and fear and turned it into a handful of scenes that roar with honesty. It's among my favorite moments in what may always be my favorite Intrepid series.

#midnight mass #kate siegel #zach gilford #covid protocol

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stargazing15 · 2 years

Text

Dad's shirt

Jake x wife reader & daughter

Summary: it was Jake's third father's day and your daughter really loves the gift.

A/N: For those who voted for dad Jake, here you go! I didn't give the reader and Jake's daughter a name, I couldn't decide on a good one

Enjoy!

***

"Daddy is going to be home soon, you know what to say to daddy, sweetheart?" You asked you daughter.

"Yes mommy, how long? Not wait!" She still tried to use as less words as possible, a little stubbornness or laziness -you still hadn't figured out which one it was- but most certainly inherent from her father.

"It is I cannot wait, sweetie. I don't know, depends on daddy's boss and if daddy's plane has been nice today. Less than an hour. Okay?" Jake had texted you he was on way right before he left.

"Befo sleep?"

"Before. Of course, he will be here before sleeptime." The moment you said your last words, keys opened the front door.

"DADDY!" And off she was to the hallway.

"Hello little munchkin. You have been good to mommy?"

"The best!" You heard her say proudly.

"Come, come, come." Jake got pulled inside by your much smaller daughter, but with a big and excited smile on her face. Not matter how bad Jake's day might have been, she made sure it was always ending good. Younger Jake never thought he wanted this, but coming home to his loved ones was all he needed to be happy, the medals or mission successes weren't the peak of his happiness anymore.

"Hi baby." Jake gave you a quick peck on the lips.

"Hi sweetest daddy of our wonderful princess."

"Daddy, no looking, I have surprise. And mommy too! Come mommy. No cheating daddy!" Jake had closed his eyes and placed his hand in front of them.

"Look no cheating little munchkin, my eyes are closed. But I can't wait to see your surprise." He encouraged him/her.

"Come mommy." The two of you grabbed the neatly wrapped gift and made your way back to Jake to deliver the gift.

"Okay babe, keep your eyes closed and place your hands in front of you. And you here, stop jumping around for a second, you are going to trip over your own feet."

"No babe, DADDY." You and Jake giggled at her comment while you were laying the gift in his hands.

"Yes yes sweetie, daddy open up your eyes." Jake opened up his eyes and tried his best for the three year old to look as surprised as possible.

"HAPPY DADDY DAY!" She screamed as loud as she possibly could, poor neighbors, and started to jump up and down again. "Open, open!"

"I think you are the one who is most excited, will you help daddy?"

"Yes." Not even a second after Jake's answer she dragged his arm down to her level so she could help. Jake carefully removed the ribbon so your little girl could start destroying the wrapping paper.

Once the paper was removed the excited little one became even more excited, yes that was possible.

"DADDY DADDY LOOK!" Jake got a drawing smacked in his face by a very proud toddler. This made Jake burst out in laughing. The little ball of joy always managed to do something that put a smile on your faces.

"Wow little munchkin, did you make this?"

"YES, by myself!"

"It is really beautiful, I guess this here is mommy and there are you and this is me with my plane?"

"Yes!"

Jake now took the gift in his hand and unfolded it. It was a white t-shirt with the black text 'I'm the coolest dad' on it. In the O's were replaced by emoji's with aviators on. "I'll wear this proudly, who made the choice?"

"Me!" Your daughter said while raising her hand up.

"She has good taste. Clearly from me."

"Dork." You whispered with a smirk.

And then instead of trying it on himself, Jake took the shirt and put it over your daughter's head and lowered it down her little body, until it hit the ground. "It fits you perfectly little munchkin." Loving the the compliment, she kissed her daddy on the cheek and gave him a big hug.

"Mommy, LOOK!"

"Wow sweetie, is that a dress?"

"Noooo, daddy's shirt!" She mocked you, like you just asked her the dumbest question ever. Being miss smarty-pants, was definitely one of the other things she inherited from Jake.

"Come on you two, photoshoot. Let's go outside, the sun is shining. Mom and dad will be there in a second. Can you search for a nice spot?" She immediately ran off to search the sport in the garden.

"Well, beautiful mommy, thank you for the wonderful gift, although I think she might wear it more often than me." Jake said to you while wrapping his arms around your waist and nuzzling his nose in your neck. "I missed you today, I always miss you."

"Missed you too." Jake pulled you in for a kiss and deepened the kiss immediately. God you missed this one-on-one time.

"EEEWWWW, gross!" Your princess stood in the door with her small hands on her hips, being a little toddler-boss. "Photo!"

"Okay, okay, we're coming."

Taglist: @mrsjaderogers @cycbaby @bradleybeachbabe @mavrellover91 @iamdannyday @rhirhikingston @luckyladycreator2 @xoxabs88xox @angelbabyange @jstarr86 @dempy

#jake hangman seresin #hangman #jake seresin #jake seresin fluff #jake seresin imagine #dad jake seresin #jake seresin drabble #jake seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #hangman drabble #dad hangman #hangman imagine #hangman x you #hangman fluff #top gun: maverick #top gun imagine

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globalrebrand · 2 years

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I figured youre the best person to float this idea to: giving Vil a spa day and following up with a massage. Its nothing close to the finesse of a professional, but you can do something they cant. After rubbing his back and shoulders to ease some of his stress, he asks you to ride him. The past five hours youve been pampering him has got him feeling sleepy and affectionate. Maybe after you *slowly* get him off, no fast movements tonight, he would want to do some cockwarming. I imagine he would be very sweet and vulnerable, content to let you spoil him but also greedy for more. He will be clingy, pouting whenever you leave for something. And while he may want to be the one receiving praise tonight, he will absolutely return the favor another day

Warnings: fluff, not sfw, not proofread, fem-reader. (let me know if this needs to change!)

A/N: Vil is a hard dom, and you can't change my mind, so it might not be as soft as you wanted!

Private Massage: Vil x Fem!reader

When Vil built the massage room off of your master ensuite, you thought it was the height of excess. Of course, your husband worked tirelessly between acting, modeling, and managing his thriving beauty line, but an in-house room for massage? Frankly, you didn't understand why he couldn't just go to the spa. The chateau the two of you resided in was only thirty minutes from the city and some of the best spas in Twisted Wonderland.

But he insisted that it was a basic necessity of his routine care, so you didn't fight him on it. And in his defense, it got frequent use.

Every other Saturday, Vil's beloved masseuse, Helene, a well-muscled middle-aged woman with strong hands that were as soft as silk, massaged him for two hours. Never failing to relieve him of the week's stresses. It was an appointment as fastidiously kept as any date or arrangement he made with you.

For all the years she'd tended to him, you'd only known one occasion where she didn't meet the scheduled appointment, and that was when her beloved dog Gus needed to be rushed to the veterinarian after tearing his way into the gourmet chocolate gift basket Vil had sent her for her birthday.

But today makes the second occasion where the sacred appointment ritual has been broken.

And your husband wasn't taking it well.

Vil stood looking wistfully picturesque in his monogrammed quilted lilac silk robe as he stared longingly out of the french doors to the balcony of your master suite. A rather difficult task considering that snow had piled up outside nearly five feet overnight.

"Darling," you cooed, sneaking up behind him, the swishing sound of the silk of your matching (also monogrammed) robe rubbing against his startling from his gloomy reverie. Rising on your toes and placing a kiss and the sensitive patch of skin beneath his ear, you prepared to offer consolations.

"No one could make it in this blizzard, and to insist that Helene come would be barbaric."

"I know that." He snapped, to which you responded by drawing his face to yours to ensure he witnessed the reflexive and highly indignant raising of your eyebrows. Long ago, Vil learned that kind of curtness got him nowhere with you.

"I'm sorry, my love, it's just I was really looking forward to our appointment today. You know better than anyone how hard this past week has been on me."

It's true. Vil really had put himself through the gauntlet the past month. He just finished filming a slate of commercials and shooting print ads for a new line of designer sunglasses he was just hired to be the face of, on top of sitting through a host of meetings with potential investors for his cosmetic brand and even hosting the Fashion Awards in the capital of the Queendom or Roses just a few nights ago.

So after forcing himself through handfuls of business lunches, after parties, and after after parties. He was a ball of tension and exhaustion in reasonably dire need of a massage.

"Of course, I understand." You murmured into his shoulder, wrapping your arms around his waist and squeezing him in an attempt to soothe his tension when the perfect solution dawned on you. Craning your neck to whisper in your husband's ear, you offered a solution.

"What if I gave you a massage instead?"

His rejection was immediate.

"That's thoughtful little one, but let's be honest. There's about a 90% chance you fuck up my back, so badly no masseuse will be able to work out the knots." Vil cooed as he moved from the window and out of your embrace, leaving you to pout by the windows alone. But you weren't deterred. Even if you weren't the best masseuse in the country, you had your own ways of making your husband relax.

"Oh, well, that's a shame…" You sighed, turning the take up the mantle by the windows your husband previously occupied.

"Darling, I wasn't trying to be insensitive, but Helene is a masseuse with 40 years of experience." Vil was clearly exasperated, annoyed by your pout since obviously you weren't qualified to work on his back. Whether you were his spouse or not didn't matter. It was just his pragmatism.

"I couldn't even change your mind if I did it in that new white lingerie set?" You spoke softly, coquettishly, offering him only a demure and questioning glance.

Your question, paired with your coy expression, quickly delivered the results you were after.

The change in his attitude was instantaneous. For the first time all afternoon, he perked up and turned away from the exit of your shared room.

"The sheer dotted set? With the ouvert panties?" He questioned as if to confirm you were both on the same page regarding the set in question.

"Mmhmm." You nodded nonchalantly.

"With the garters and lacy thigh highs?" He asked, his expression now entirely focused on you. "That's a silly question. After all-"

"What would be the point without them?" You both intoned in unison.

"It was my birthday set, and I just got it, so I was saving it for a special occasion, but what better occasion could there be than blessing my beloved husband with my first foray into massage."

He raised an eyebrow as if to wordlessly say, 'you're laying it on a bit thick, but from his anticipatory posture, you could tell he'd bought your little act.

"Hmm, fine, but I'll be giving critiques on your technique."

"You wouldn't be the man I married if you didn't." You chirped as you pulled the set out of the drawer and dashed into the bathroom to prepare, running past your husband with girlish glee.

A scant half an hour later and the mood was set. Aromatic candles were lit, lightly perfuming the space.

You dressed in the aforementioned set, with heels and light jewelry that wouldn't get in the way of your work. A pair of white gold hoop earrings and a dainty matching chain with a small V and amethyst on it.

You were watching some videos of proper full body massage techniques when the door to the room slid open, and in walked your husband, freshly showered with a towel loosely affixed around his hips. "Now, this sight is far more enchanting than my normal appointment," Vil remarked, seeing your ass in the scandalous panties. Your lush curves were put on display for him as you leaned over the cupboard while you watched videos on your phone.

"Helene would be crushed to hear you say that." You teased, still transfixed on the videos before you.

"That set makes your ass look fantastic," Vil added, placing a hand on the exposed fat of your rear.

You swatted his hand away. Not wanting him to spoil the session by completely forgoing the massage.

That's not why we're here, you remind him. Turning around and plucking the headphones from your ears, you put your phone away so you can focus on the task at hand.

You pressed on your husband's shoulders, gently urging him onto the massage table.

"I'm not here to rile you. I'm here to relax you." You reminded him. "Well, if you think you can. Do your best, my love." That was generally the closest to encouragement that Vil came, but you knew better than to take him at his word. He was obviously excited if the bulge of his half-hard cock beneath his towel was any indicator.

"Don't worry, I will. The channel drmasseur on spelltube taught me everything I need to know."

"On second thought-"

"Shhh..stop! Lay down. Don't be mean. I was only teasing." You chided. "On your front."

Begrudgingly, your husband obeyed.

Warming the basil and lemongrass lotion in your hands, you started with long strokes from his ankle to his knees, testing the amount of pressure.

"You can go a bit harder, my love."

Wordlessly you obeyed, applying more pressure again his long sinews and working into a comfortable rhythm. It wasn't as difficult as you thought it would be. After all, you were likely tied with his masseuse in knowledge of all of his sensitive areas, though your knowledge was of a much more explicit nature. After spending ample on his calf, you moved to do the same motion on his thigh, eliciting a groan as you pressed your thumbs into the back of his muscles.

"You're not as bad as I would've thought," Vil noted and slightly impressed air to his voice. He was quick to add-

"Nowhere near as good as Helene, might I add, but this has been pleasurable."

"And I do so seek to please you, husband." You whispered sultrily.

Vil hummed contentedly at your words and fell back into silence.

The better part of an hour passed, and you moved on from his legs to his arms, diligently repeating the same strokes as you did on his legs before and finally reaching his shoulders and back.

You were pleased with how well this little experiment was going. Vil seemed reasonably relaxed.

He threw out a critique here and there, but for the most part, he seemed content with your work.

Climbing on the table, you straddled his pert and bare upturned ass to get better leverage as you worked on his back.

"I know drmasseur didn't instruct you to do this."

"Perhaps not in his normal videos, but I was watching one to teach the art of erotic massage." You whispered in his ear before pressing a dramatic kiss to his temple.

Settling your weight fully on his rear, you both gasped as the wetness that had seeped through the opening of your panties made itself apparent through the skin-to-skin contact.

Your husband groaned but otherwise said nothing.

You quickly got into a deliberate routine, working on his lower back and subtly grinding against him with each fluid stroke of your hands in an attempt to soothe a bit of your own arousal. It shouldn't have come as a surprise just how quickly grinding your clit against your husband's skin.

But midway through your work, your husband stopped you.

"It's time for you to work on my front."

“But I haven't even gotten to-.”

He tapped your thigh to urge you off of him and then turned on his back, revealing the massive erection he was sporting.

Before you could even speak, he lifted a finger to silence you.

"I presume you know what you need to do."

"Of course, my love." You cooed, pressing a gentle kiss against his lips. But Vil was apparently much more desperate than he let on as he was quick to rake his fingers through your hair to deepen the kiss. His tongue sensuously probing for yours. He releases you, panting slightly, and quickly offers his following command.

"Get to work."

Wait- He stops you before you can climb atop the massage table.

He brings a hand to your sex, testing your wetness with lithe fingers.

"Sevens, you're so shameless. You're more than wet enough to take me." He remarks, a certain pride to his words.

"How could I not when my husband is so beautiful." You always give Vil the validation he wants. The way it makes him preen and stand even straighter never fails to put a smile on your face.

Vil offers a hand to help stabilize you as you straddle him, your knees pressing into the soft leather of the table's surface.

You waste no time lining yourself up and sinking down on his cock in a practiced motion. The both of you moan in harmony at the sensation despite having felt it hundreds (if not thousands of times before).

Your walls seize around his length instinctively as they flutter in an ever-desperate attempt to accommodate his girth.

"You're so beautiful, Vil." coos, affectionately stroking your cheek. You close your eyes, relishing in the softness of his touch. Your sessions with Vil were only on occasion this tender.

"I hate it when people ask you how you got so lucky. Those fools don't realize just how lucky I am to have you." Vil is addressing you with his sweet words, but you are far too lost in taking him to the base of his shaft with every cant of your hips. His cock was deliciously curved towards the most sensitive parts inside of you, and you always to your time when riding him.

"My precious little wife takes such good care of me." He smiles teasingly. His finger came up to toy with a nipple concealed by the mesh of the lingerie.

"Are you paying attention to me?? He begins to scold. Clearly, you looked a little too lost in your own pleasure and not nearly admiring enough of the praises he lavished on you.

"Of course, I agree, Vil. You are lucky to have me." You open your eyes just to catch his feigned, annoyed expression.

"Come here." He demands but doesn't actually wait for your compliance.

Vil pulls the sheer cups of your lingerie under your breasts to expose your pert nipples and tugs you forward by the band, quickly taking one hardened bud between his lips and sucking tenderly as you rock back against him.

His other hand snakes down your spine before settling between your cheeks to press against your ass. You hiss at the strangely pleasurable sensation. The gesture is a small hint of Vil's sadism peaking through a more tame lovemaking session.

And as much as it turned you on, the relative taboo of the touch always sent you hurdling to orgasm in a matter of seconds.

Tentatively you tried to rise up and shoo away his hand, not wanting things to end too soon, but Vil wasn't having it. Unlatching from where he nibbled and teased your breasts, he grabbed your hair and pulled you in for a steamy kiss, but still, you turned, only allowing his lips to brush your cheek.

"No, I don't want to come too fast," you whined, slowing your motions and trying to evade your husband's persistent fingers.

"My foolish love," he simpered, his soft expression and tone encouraging you to drop your defenses and lean into his embrace. "even when you're on top of me, I call the shots." He whispered into your ear.

"Now, grind your tight little ass against my fingers while you ride my cock, understood?"

"I wanted to come at the same time." You pouted, looking into his hazy purple eyes.

"Keep riding me like that, and we will, don't worry, little one. Even I have to admit you're too tempting for your own good." You realized early in your relationship that for someone like Vil, being in control and curating his experience was cathartic. He seldom wanted anyone else calling the shot. The uncertainty made him anxious.

With his compliment, you found a small burst of motivation. Soon you got lost in the sensation of his wet fingers tracing circles on your puckered hole as you clenched against his shaft. And you realized if you bucked your hips just so your clit scraped against his toned abdomen.

Once you felt yourself hurdling off the cliff to your orgasm, you pressed as deep against your husband, feeling his tip threatening to breech your womb. Vil threw his head back as he let out a heady moan, and you, quite satisfied with your work, collapsed on top of him once your walls finally calmed, your sex feeling numb and well pleasured.

If not to relieve him of the burden of your sweat body, then to clean your both. You could feel his cum threatening to leak from your pussy, but when you moved to get off him, Vil held you firmly in place by your thighs.

"No, my love, keep me warm." He begged softly. You were never one to deny him, so with a sigh, you nestled back on top of him, tucking your head under his chin.

You two stayed silent for a good while when suddenly, a cheeky idea struck you.

"While I have you here," you began, your voice lifting Vil from his contented quiet. "Would you mind filling out a short survey about my performance today? The feedback really helps."

Fine." Vil acquiesces, opting in to play your little game.

"Rate the massage on a scale of poor to exceptional."

"It was adequate."

"Ok, rude. What could have improved your experience."

"The masseuse could have been less of a cocktease."

You tap his shoulder in chastisement. "One, you loved it, and two, that was the point."

"Oh, alright, the masseuse's lack of experience was apparent. But she more than made up for her lack of massage skill in other areas."

"Anyway, next question. Rate the sex on a scale of poor to exceptional."

"Absolutely incandescently perfect," Vil whispered as he nuzzled his nose into the crook of your neck.

"Thank you for your feedback." You replied, turning to plant a chaste kiss on his brow.

"And final question,"

"It better be." Vil sighed in exasperation.

"Would you recommend this service to friends and family?"

Vil immediately bristled, shooting up to a sitting position, causing you to let out a quiet hiss as he moved inside you, but he seemed less bothered and more intent on addressing your question.

"Absolutely not! First of all, gross. Second of all, you're all mine."

"I know, I know, I'm just teasing. I never get tired of hearing you say it."

"Now say it back." He demanded petulantly.

"I'm all yours Vil Schoenheit."

"Good, I wouldn't have it any other way."

#vil schoenheit x reader #vil x reader #vil schoenheit #vil smut #vil schoenheit smut #twst imagines #twst wonderland #twst smut #twisted wonderland smut #my wrtitng

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corrupte3d-mindz · 3 months

Text

The Siren Files

Robert Fischer x F! Siren Reader

Summary: Robert finds his way back out on the water and does not regret it.

Wordcount: 6.2k

Warnings: Part 1

smut..,Robert is touch deprived so is the reader?!…,switch! perverted Robert, unsafe sex, p in v, m! oral receiving, handjob, fingering, begging, whimpering and whining, multiple rounds, soft/dirty talk.

The memory of their first meeting replayed in his mind, a hauntingly beautiful evening when the stars had mirrored the ocean’s tranquility. It had been only a few nights ago, yet it felt like an eternity since he had last seen her.

The water lay before him like a sheet of polished glass, its surface unbroken and serene. Robert stood at the helm of his yacht, the sea breeze ruffling his dark hair as he scanned the horizon with an intensity that bordered on desperation. He had been drawn to the abandoned pier by fate, seeking a moment of respite from the crushing responsibilities of his father's empire.

“Fuck..where is she..” he muttered under his breath, his frustration evident as he anchored his yacht to the sea floor. He had expected to find her here, waiting with the same eagerness that had driven him to return. The absence of her presence gnawed at him, a stark contrast to the calmness of the surroundings.

The yacht rocked gently as he made his way towards the stern, his steps purposeful yet tinged with a sense of urgency. The abandoned pier loomed ahead, a silent witness to their previous encounter. It was there that he had sat, feet dangling over the edge, talking about life with a candor that he had rarely experienced. He could still recall the sound of her laughter mingling with the soft lapping of the waves, a melody that had played on a loop in his mind ever since.

“Lookin’ for someone..?” Her voice, like a haunting melody, echoed across the water, sending a shiver down his spine. It was unmistakable, the sweet, lilting cadence that had bewitched him since their first encounter. He turned, scanning the horizon, his breath catching as he searched for the source of the voice.

There she was, emerging gracefully from the waves, her figure a vision of ethereal beauty. The moon glistened off of her wet hair, casting a halo of light around her, and her eyes, those piercing, enchanting eyes, locked onto his with an intensity that made his heart skip a beat. She smiled, a slow, knowing smile that sent warmth flooding through him.

"Yes," he managed, his voice rough with emotion. "I was looking for you."

The siren moved closer, her movements fluid and mesmerizing, like the dance of the sea itself. She reached the side of his yacht, her hands resting lightly on the edge as she gazed up at him. "And here I am," she said softly, her voice a soothing balm to his troubled soul. "What brings you back to me, Robert?"

He knelt beside her, his fingers brushing against hers as he struggled to find the words. "I couldn't stay away," he admitted, his voice barely above a whisper. "There's something about you, something that draws me in. I don't understand it, but I can't ignore it."

"Robert," she called softly, her voice a melodic whisper that sent shivers down his spine. She floated gracefully beside the yacht, her gills faintly visible on her neck. How had he not noticed them before? Perhaps he had been too entranced by her eyes, her voice, the sheer presence of her. He offered his hand, a gesture of connection, but she shook her head gently, a sad smile playing on her lips.

"I can't leave the water," she said, her voice tinged with a hint of sorrow. "But there is a way I can join you, if only for a while."

Robert's mind raced. He was a man of logic and reason, but in this moment, he found himself willing to believe in the impossible. He watched as she swam down the depths of where the yacht's anchor was, her movements fluid and effortless. She paused, looking back at him with an invitation in her eyes.

"Follow me...and stay close," she instructed before diving into the depths.

Robert's heart pounded with a mix of excitement and trepidation. He quickly pulled up the anchor, his hands moving with a sense of urgency. Once the anchor was secured, he made his way back to the helm, his eyes never leaving her form as she glided through the water with grace. He started the yacht, following her as she led him through the moonlit sea. She moved like a shadow beneath the water's surface, her silhouette a beacon in the darkness. Robert marveled at the way she seemed to dance with the waves, her body perfectly in sync with the ocean's rhythm. He felt a sense of awe, a deep respect for the world she inhabited and the mysteries it held.

After what felt like an eternity, she led him to a small, hidden cove. The entrance was barely visible, a narrow opening in the rocky cliffs that glowed faintly with an otherworldly light. Robert's breath caught in his throat as he maneuvered the yacht closer. She surfaced beside the boat, her eyes sparkling with excitement.

"You trust me, right?" she asked, her voice carrying a sense of urgency. "Then dock the yacht and jump in the water."

Without a moment's hesitation, Robert complied. He docked the yacht and stripped off his shoes and jacket, knowing they would only weigh him down. He took a deep breath and plunged into the water, the cold shock of it taking his breath away. His suit became heavy and cumbersome, but she was there, her hands gripping his arms, guiding him towards the cave. The water was colder here, but her touch was warm, reassuring. She pulled him into the cave, and he followed her lead, trusting her implicitly. The glow grew brighter as they swam deeper into the cave, illuminating the rocky walls with a soft, ethereal light. The water gradually became shallower until they could stand, and Robert found himself in a hidden grotto, the air filled with a faint, sweet fragrance.

She helped him to his feet, her hands gentle yet firm. Robert's breath came in ragged gasps as he looked around, his eyes wide with wonder. The cave was unlike anything he had ever seen. Bioluminescent plants and algae adorned the walls, casting a magical glow that bathed everything in a soft, surreal light.

With a powerful surge, she emerged from the water, her body arching as she transitioned from sea creature to a human form left Robert speechless, his breath caught in his throat as he witnessed the transformation. He had never seen anything like it before. Where once there had been a shimmering tail, there were now two legs, pale and slender, glistening with droplets of seawater. She stood before him, dripping and radiant, her eyes locking onto his with an intensity that sent shivers down his spine.

"Normally…I'd at least get a scream from humans but I guess not with you," she remarked, her tone playful yet tinged with curiosity. Robert couldn't help but chuckle at her observation, a small smile tugging at the corners of his lips.

"I suppose I'm not easily frightened," he replied, his voice calm despite the whirlwind of thoughts in his mind. He took a step closer to her, his gaze never leaving her face. "You're…incredible. I've never seen anything like this before."

He patted the sand beside him, inviting her to sit. She accepted his invitation, her movements graceful and fluid, like a dancer on a stage. She settled beside him, her presence enveloping him in a sense of calm and wonder.

"Are you alright... Robert?" Her voice was like a melody, soft and soothing, with an otherworldly quality that sent shivers down his spine.

Robert turned to look at her, his eyes meeting hers for the first time. She was breathtakingly beautiful, with eyes that sparkled like the stars above and a smile that was both inviting and mysterious. He found himself unable to look away, captivated by her otherworldly charm.

"I'm... I'm fine," he replied, his voice barely above a whisper.

She leaned against him, her body fitting perfectly against his own. In this dim light, she appeared almost otherworldly, her features softened by the gentle glow around them. Robert couldn't help but be captivated by her, his eyes tracing the curves of her body, the delicate lines of her face. Her presence was intoxicating, her scent a heady mix of saltwater and something uniquely her own. Robert felt a strange pull towards her, a desire he couldn't quite explain. He knew he should be cautious, wary of her allure, but he found himself unable to resist her.

As they sat there, she began to speak, her voice like music to Robert's ears. She spoke of the sea, of the mysteries it held, of the creatures that dwelled within its depths. Her words were enchanting, weaving a spell around him that he found impossible to break. Robert's mind was a whirlwind of thoughts and emotions. He felt a deep connection to this woman, a sense of kinship that he had never experienced before. He knew he should be afraid, should be wary of her intentions, but he couldn't bring himself to care.

Lost in the moment, Robert reached out to gently brush a strand of hair away from her face. She turned to look at him, her eyes meeting his with a mixture of curiosity and something else, something deeper and more primal. In that moment, Robert knew that he was lost to her, that he would follow her wherever she led. He leaned in closer, his breath mingling with hers, his heart pounding in his chest. He knew he should resist, should turn away and flee from this enchantress, but he found himself unable to move. Her lips were soft against his own, her touch electric as she pressed herself against him, but he needed to be closer.

Robert moved her to his lap, he felt a surge of warmth and closeness wash over him. He wrapped his arm around her waist, pulling her closer to him, his touch gentle yet possessive. His other arm snaked up to cup her face, his thumb tracing slow circles against her cheek. The sensation of her skin against his sent a shiver of pleasure down his spine, a sensation that seemed to echo the gentle hum of the cave around them. Their lips met in a soft, tender kiss like just before, the warmth of their breath mingling in the cool air of the cave. Robert moaned ever so slightly, a sound that seemed to emanate from the depths of his soul. It was a moan of longing and desire, a release of pent-up emotion that he had kept hidden away for far too long. In that moment, he felt an overwhelming sense of vulnerability, a rawness that left him feeling exposed yet strangely liberated.

Robert broke the kiss, his breath shaking. “You’re so fuckin’ gorgeous..fuck.” The words escaped his lips in a breathless whisper, a raw expression of the overwhelming desire he felt for her. He went quiet and looked embarrassed.

"Are you okay...?" Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she reached out to touch his shoulder.

Robert flinched at her touch, a flush creeping up his neck as he tried to compose himself. He nodded shakily, his words catching in his throat as he struggled to find his voice. She sensed his discomfort and gracefully moved off of him, settling herself on the ground next to him. Robert's eyes followed her every movement, his gaze lingering on her figure as he tried to ignore the way his heart raced at the sight of her. He shifted uncomfortably, his hands instinctively moving to cover his lap as he tried to hide his growing excitement.

“..I’m fine..just not used to this much attention..”

His voice was barely above a whisper, tinged with a hint of vulnerability that belied his usual confident demeanor. His hand trembled slightly as he reached for his belt, fingers fumbling with the buckle as he struggled to steady himself. She still sat beside him, with an otherworldly beauty, watched him with a mixture of curiosity and concern. Her eyes, pools of liquid darkness, bore into his own, searching for the source of his discomfort. She tilted her head slightly, a faint frown marring her otherwise serene features.

"Oh...oh...sorry...I didn't know you were so sensitive..." Her voice was soft, melodic, carrying a hint of amusement as she spoke.

Robert's cheeks flushed slightly at her words, a mixture of embarrassment and relief washing over him. He looked away, unable to meet her gaze as he struggled to regain his composure. The cave seemed to close in around him, the walls pressing in on all sides as he fought to control the turmoil swirling within him.

Her voice was soft, barely above a whisper, as she spoke, her words sending a shiver down his spine. "Is there any way...I can fix that problem..." she said, her eyes flicking down to where his hand rested, covering the undeniable evidence of his arousal.

Robert's breath caught in his throat at her words, his mind racing as he struggled to process the implications of her offer. He met her gaze with a mixture of uncertainty and longing, his fingers twitching at his side as he fought the urge to reach out and touch her. "I-I don't know..." he stammered, his voice betraying the turmoil raging within him. "I'm not sure if that's such a good idea..."

He met her gaze, he felt a wave of unease wash over him. There was something about the intensity of her stare that made him feel exposed, vulnerable in a way he couldn't quite articulate. He shifted uncomfortably under her scrutiny, the weight of her gaze bearing down on him like a physical force.

“It hurts..so much..” Robert murmured as he was practically begging for some relief..he couldn’t remember the last time he’s been intimate with a woman..let alone the last time he’d jerked off.

As she moved her hand to his, Robert felt a jolt of electricity shoot through him, his skin tingling with anticipation. Her touch was tentative at first, her fingers grazing lightly over the fabric of his trousers, but it sent a wave of heat coursing through him, his body reacting instinctively to her proximity. He couldn't help but tense slightly under her touch, the intensity of the sensation catching him off guard. His hand, covering the bulge in his trousers, seemed to pulse with heat, the warmth radiating from it almost palpable in the air between them. It was as if a fire had been ignited within him, burning hot and fierce beneath the surface.

Robert's heart hammered in his chest, the rhythmic thud echoing in his ears as he tried to steady his breathing. He felt exposed, vulnerable, as if she could see right through him to the depths of his desire. And yet, there was something undeniably exhilarating about the sensation, the thrill of being so close to her, of sharing this intimate moment together. He glanced down at her hand, watching as she traced patterns over the fabric of his trousers, her touch sending shivers down his spine. He wanted to say something, to break the tension that hung heavy in the air between them, but the words caught in his throat, lost in the whirlwind of sensation that engulfed him.

Instead, he focused on her, on the way her eyes sparkled with mischief and desire, on the curve of her lips as she leaned in closer to him. He could feel the heat of her breath against his skin, sending a shiver down his spine as he struggled to maintain his composure. But then, just as suddenly as it had begun, the moment passed, her hand moving away from his as she leaned back slightly, a coy smile playing on her lips. Robert couldn't help but feel a pang of disappointment, a longing for the intimacy they had shared just moments before. He watched her, his gaze lingering on her as she shifted slightly in her seat, the movement drawing his attention back to her. There was a newfound confidence in her demeanor, a boldness that he found both captivating and alluring.

And then, without warning, she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against his ear as she whispered softly, her words sending a shiver down his spine. "You're so tense, Robert," she murmured, her voice low and husky. "Why don't you let me help you relax?"

Robert's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding in his chest as he felt her hand move back to his throbbing bulge, her touch sending a jolt of electricity through him. He couldn't resist her, couldn't deny the pull of desire that drew him to her like a moth to a flame. With a soft sigh, he leaned into her touch, allowing himself to be enveloped by the warmth and intensity of her presence. As her hand moved to the buttons of his pants, Robert Fischer's breath caught in his throat, his heart pounding with anticipation. He met her gaze, his eyes locking with hers in a silent exchange of desire and longing.

He groaned softly as she carefully undid each button, her touch sending shivers down his spine. It was as if every movement of her fingers was a caress, igniting a fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. He could feel the heat building between them, a palpable tension that hung in the air like a heavy blanket. As she pulled his pants down just enough to reveal his boxers, he felt a rush of heat flood his cheeks, a blush of embarrassment mingled with desire. The faint scent of cologne mingled with the musky aroma of desire, creating an intoxicating atmosphere that enveloped him like a shroud. His breath came in shallow gasps, betraying the arousal that pulsed through his veins like a raging inferno.

He could feel the dampness spreading across his boxers, a tangible reminder of his body's betrayal in the face of such raw desire. His mind reeled as he struggled to maintain his composure, to cling to the last vestiges of control in a world spinning out of control. Her touch was like a feather against his skin, sending shivers down his spine and igniting sparks of pleasure that danced across his nerves. Her hand glided over the damp spot with practiced ease, tracing the outline of his arousal with a tenderness that bordered on reverence. He groaned softly, his body arching instinctively towards her touch, his cock throbbing with need beneath her fingertips.

She gingerly pulled down his boxers, revealing the monster he kept to himself, his breath caught in his throat, a primal urge stirring within him. His throbbing cock sprang free, glistening with a mixture of pre-come and come, a testament to the intensity of his need. Her hand, warm and firm, wrapped around his shaft, sending shivers of pleasure coursing through him. With each pulse of his heartbeat, she could feel the rhythm of his desire, a silent symphony playing out in the quietude of the cave. As her fingers traced the contours of his length, he arched against her touch, a low moan escaping his lips.

“….ah-ah..fuck..” He cursed under his breath, a low, guttural sound escaping his lips as he fought to suppress the overwhelming urge that threatened to consume him.

She took him in her hand, his thick, twitching cock filling it out completely. A low groan escaped his lips as he bit down on his lip, his eyes never leaving hers. Every movement she made sent waves of pleasure coursing through him, his body responding eagerly to her touch. Her thumb traced slow, deliberate circles along his length, teasing and coaxing him to the brink of ecstasy. She ran her thumb up and down his leaking slit, a mischievous glint in her eye as she reveled in the power she held over him. His breath hitched in his throat, a low moan escaping him as he surrendered to the pleasure coursing through him. Beads of sweat glistened on his forehead, his breaths coming in ragged gasps that echoed through the dimly lit cave. "Please... please don't stop," he pleaded, his voice a mixture of desperation and desire, his eyes fixed on the figure before him

His chest rose and fell rapidly, the tension in his muscles palpable as he surrendered to the sensations coursing through him. With trembling fingers, he reached out, seeking something to ground him, to anchor him to reality amidst the whirlwind of pleasure engulfing his senses. Her touch was electric, sending jolts of ecstasy racing along his nerves. Each stroke, each caress, sent shivers down his spine, igniting a primal fire within him that threatened to consume him whole. His cock throbbed in response, aching for release, for the sweet release that only she could provide.

Robert's body tenses up as he feels the first wave of pleasure wash over him. His breathing becomes ragged, his hands clawing at the dirt beneath him. His eyes are wide open, staring straight ahead, pupils dilated as if he's looking right through her. The veins on his forehead stand out, bulging with every throb of blood rushing through his body.

His cock throbs in time with his pulse, every vein standing out in stark relief as it twitches violently between his legs. Pre-cum leaks from its tip. A low growl escapes his throat, the sound guttural and primal, echoing around the cave. He grits his teeth, clenching and unclenching his fists by his sides. His muscles ripple under his skin, straining against their confines. With a final groan, Robert's body convulses as his orgasm hits him full force. His cock twitches violently, spurting hot seed onto both their bodies and the ground beneath them.

As she continued to stroke him, Robert felt the waves of pleasure coursing through his body as he rode out his release. He could feel her soft hand against his skin, slick with his cum, and the sensation sent shivers down his spine. "Fuck," he muttered under his breath, a low growl that echoed his satisfaction.

Robert looks at her with his cum all over her hands, his gaze heavy with desire and exhaustion. His muscles ache from the exertion, but his cock twitches eagerly at the thought of her lips wrapped around its length. A low growl rumbles in his chest, a primal sound that echoes his need. Suddenly Robert's eyes widen slightly in surprise when he feels the sudden wet heat surrounding his cock. For a moment, he doesn't move, simply staring at her who had taken him by surprise. His mind races, trying to make sense of the situation, but the fog of lust makes coherent thought difficult.

He watches as she begins to suck him off, her tongue swirling around his length in a tantalizing dance. A low growl rumbles in his chest and he reaches down, tangling his fingers in her hair. Robert's eyes are half-lidded with pleasure as he gazes down at her on top of him. His hands grip her hair tightly, guiding her head to take every inch of his twitching cock. Each thrust sends a shudder through his body, the sensation amplified by the tight warmth of her throat enveloping him.

His breaths come out in ragged gasps, each one punctuated by a low groan or whispered curse. He can feel the pressure building up inside him, coiling like a spring ready to release. His heart pounds against his chest, echoing the relentless rhythm of his thrusts. His body starts tensing up as another spurt of cum shoots out of his cock, coating the back of her throat. His hands grip onto her hair tightly, pulling on it slightly as he thrusts his hips forward.

“Oh fuck...” He moans out, his voice husky with lust. “You're such a good little slut...” His words are punctuated by more groans of pleasure as he continues to fill her mouth with his hot seed.

As she finally releases his throbbing length from her welcoming mouth, Robert pulls away slightly, his eyes glazed over with a lustful haze. A string of saliva connects her to his still throbbing cock.

Robert lets out a soft sigh as he feels the strands of her hair slip through his fingers. With a gentle tug that sends a wave of pleasure coursing through his veins, he pulls her onto his lap. Causing his heart to skip a beat. He was starved for touch, craved for it, and now here he was, finally experiencing it. His rigid length presses against her, nestled firmly against her back. The heat radiates off his skin, making her tremble in anticipation. A shaky breath escapes his lips as he leans back, allowing himself to fully appreciate the moment. Her body feels warm against his own, the slight dampness from their previous activities serving as a tantalizing reminder of what they had shared.

"*The feeling of her warm body against me was intoxicating.*" he thought, closing his eyes and trying to commit every moment to memory.

The throbbing hardness nestled against her lower back was almost painful in its intensity, yet he welcomed the discomfort. A soft whimper escapes from his lips as he wraps an arm around her waist, pulling her closer towards him. He could feel himself growing harder, yearning for more contact, craving to lose himself completely within her.

"You have no idea how much I needed this..."

His pants now hang loosely around his hips, his throbbing erection taking center stage. His eyes are glazed over with desire as he watches her undress while on top of him. She looks incredible, all curves and softness, inviting him for more. His heart races at the sight of her naked body.

His voice comes out as a hoarse whisper, laced with desperation. "Please... baby..I need to be inside you..."

She looked at him and cupped his face delicately, and she looked at him with a gaze of trust. He takes that as a good sign to go ahead. In a gentle yet firm way, Robert slowly pushes two fingers into her sloppy cunt, feeling her wetness coat his digits. His thumb seeks out her clit, With a gentle touch, Robert's thumb trace over the sensitive flesh of her clit, teasing circles around the tiny nub. The sensation makes her arch off his lap a bit with a soft moan escaping her lips.

"Oh... fuck," she gasps, her nails digging into Robert’s thighs as she tries to steady herself.

Her words spur him on, his thumb now moving in small, tantalizing swirls over her clit. He can feel how wet she is getting, her juices coating his fingers and soaking onto his thighs. His thumb continues to circle the swollen bud, applying just the right amount of pressure.

"God, you're so wet," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire. "I can't wait to feel you tighten around me."

Robert's thumb dance over the sensitive nub of her clit, his touch feather-light yet electrifying. His fingers continue their tantalizing exploration, circling and teasing, driving her wild. She leans against his chest.

"Oh fuck... Robert... more..." she gasps out, her nails digging into his shoulders. "Don't stop... don't you dare stop."

Robert dives deeper into pleasuring her. His fingers move faster, plunging in and out of her with a rhythmic pace that has her squirming on top of him. She cries out wanting more, her plea only serves to fuel his lust, his thumb now working overtime on her clit. He applies just the right amount of pressure, rubbing circles around the sensitive nub.

"You're so wet," he grunts out, feeling her juices coat his fingers. "Take my fingers... show me how much you want it."

As if on cue, he pushes another finger into her, stretching her tight walls to accommodate his digits. Robert's fingers delve deeper into the warm, wet depths of her, curling upward to hit that sweet spot inside her over and over again. His thumb continues to circle her engorged clit, adding another layer of stimulation.

"Oh God... yes!" she moans, arching off his lap as his fingers work magic inside her. She grips onto his shoulders tightly, her knuckles white as she tries to hold on in the face of the orgasm threatening to crash over her.

"Come on baby, let go," Robert whispers huskily in her ear, his hot breath causing her entire body to shudder. "Give it to me... let me hear you scream."

Robert's fingers move faster, curling and twisting within her. He can feel her walls clench around him, her tightness only spurring him on further. His thumb continues its steady assault on her clit, the combined sensations driving her closer to the edge.

"Oh fuck, you're so close aren't you?" he murmurs into her ear, his hot breath sending shivers down her spine. "Let go, let yourself fall over the edge..."

With a final, hard thrust of his fingers, he feels her climax rip through her. She cries out as wave after wave of pleasure crashes over her. Robert continues to pump his fingers into her twitching cunt, milking out every last drop of her orgasm.

Robert's fingers gradually slide out of her, leaving her feeling empty and needy. The moment she starts to whimper in protest, he quickly corrects himself by moving his cock to her sloppy cunt..begging to be fucked mercilessly. "Take me," he commands, pushing forward until the tip of his cock nudges against her entrance. His free hand grabs her arms and holds them down against her waist, holding her steady as he positions himself. With a sudden, powerful thrust, he slams into her. She lets out a loud gasp, as she try’s to adjust to the overwhelming sensation.

Her tight walls squeeze around him, welcoming him home. Robert lets out a low growl as he starts to move, thrusting up into her with a slow, steady rhythm. It's a struggle, but he forces himself deeper, groaning as he feels her walls clench around him. "Fucking hell..."

"Just like that," he grunts, panting heavily as he tries to keep control. "So fucking tight..."

A long string of expletives escape him as he thrusts up into her, each movement sending shockwaves of pleasure coursing through his veins. The sensation is overwhelming - being deep inside her feels so good that it's all he can focus on. “Jesus Christ..." He takes a moment to marvel at how perfect she feels – the heat, the tightness, the way her walls clamp down on him.

"I've never felt anything like this before..." he gasps out, his voice laced with disbelief and pure pleasure. "Your cunt... goddamn... it's so fucking tight..."

Despite her snug embrace, he continues to pound into her without mercy. His balls slap against her ass with each thrust, creating a rhythmic symphony of flesh meeting flesh.

"Fuck! Baby!, you better prepare yourself..." he growls into her ear, his breath hot against her skin. "Cause I'm not stopping till we're both spent."

Every time he bottoms out, he can feel the tip of his cock grinding against her cervix - pushing it open, stretching her ripe womb. He growls in delight; this was exactly what he had been craving. "Oh baby...this is it..." His words become hitched gasps now as ecstasy starts spiraling closer at lightning speed. "Ready for my cum..?"

His orgasm comes crashing down on him like a thunderbolt, his hips jerking involuntarily as thick spurts of cum explode from him. He feels himself pump load after load into her, each one deeper than the last, filling her completely.

"Oh god..." she lets out another whimper, making him chuckle darkly. "Y-you're amazing..."

"You haven't seen anything yet," he grins devilishly, panting in earnest now. His fingers dig into the curve of her ass for leverage.

He picks up speed; each inward plunge causing his balls to slap wetly against her skin. He could already feel himself being pulled towards another orgasm - her slick juices helping lubricate his way. She gasps sharply feeling his entire length pierce her tight opening once again, gripping him firmly. Robert throws his head back, letting loose a long moan, relishing in the sensation of being inside of her.

"Oh fuck... goddamn you feel amazing." he groans out through gritted teeth. She wraps her legs around him tightly ensuring he remains deeply rooted within her.

As Robert reaches his peak, his movements become erratic. His hips jerk forward roughly, each thrust pushing deeper into the girl on top of him. "Ah fuck!" He growls loudly, throwing his head back as a long string of white cum spurts out, splattering hotly against her cervix. Another jet follows, painting her insides in a thick coat of seed.

“Fuck….you’re going to—suffocate my cock..”

Robert grunts as he pushes himself deeper and deeper into her, still feeling her tight walls clench around his throbbing cock. His hands grip her hips tighter, digging into her soft flesh as he thrusts into her.

"Fucking hell... you're still so fucking tight," he groans, his voice hoarse from all the yelling and moaning. "Feels like you were made just for me..."

His thrusts now become slower, more measured now, each one pushing him closer to the edge once more. He can feel his climax approaching rapidly, the tension coiling in his lower abdomen growing unbearable.

"Just a few more... just a few more," he pants, his words coming out in short bursts as he fights against the urge to spill himself inside her.

Robert lets out a guttural roar as he feels his climax approaching, his thrusts becoming erratic and frenzied. His balls slap loudly against her flesh, creating a lewd symphony of sounds that echoes throughout the room.

"Take it... all... please... take it all," he growls, his voice raw from exertion and pleasure.

With a final, powerful thrust, he spills himself inside her, filling her womb with hot spurts of cum. His body trembles as he rides out the waves of ecstasy washing over him, each one stronger than the last. Robert held her tightly against his chest while still ramming in cock into her cunt, he just wanted to make sure she got every last drop.

Robert collapsed onto the ground beneath him and just stared at her while running his fingers through his hair. Robert and her lay on the ground, their bodies intertwined. Robert, is now vulnerable, his emotions raw and exposed. He gazes deeply into her eyes, his expression a mix of disbelief and wonder at the intimacy they've shared. Slowly, Robert lifts a hand to cup her cheek, his touch gentle yet firm. He brushes a strand of hair away from her face, his fingers lingering on her skin as if trying to memorize every contour. His gaze softens, and for a moment, the weight of his responsibilities seems to lift, replaced by a sense of peace and contentment.

"I never expected this," Robert whispers, his voice hoarse with emotion. "But I'm glad it happened." His words are simple, yet they carry a depth of feeling that surprises even him. He leans in closer, his lips barely brushing against hers in a tender caress.

Her eyes flutter open, meeting Robert's gaze with a mixture of longing and uncertainty. She reaches up to touch his face, mirroring his gesture, and for a moment, they are lost in each other, the world around them fading into insignificance.

"I never thought I could feel this way," she murmurs, her voice barely above a whisper. "But with you, everything feels different." Her words hang in the air, a silent acknowledgment of the bond that has formed between them.

Robert’s eyes tracing the intricate patterns of shadows and light as the sun began to infiltrate their hidden refuge. The rugged walls, damp with moisture, bore silent witness to the passing of time, each crevice and fissure a testament to the cave's ancient existence. Robert's tailored suit, now either drenched, coved in bodily fluids or was gone from existence contrasted sharply with the natural, untamed environment around him. He ran a hand through his meticulously styled hair, a gesture that had become almost second nature when he was deep in thought.

He had always been a man of calculated precision, every action and decision weighed against potential outcomes. The cave, though a temporary sanctuary, had begun to feel like a prison. The urgency of the situation gnawed at him. He could not afford to linger any longer. His family, particularly his father’s remaining associates, would never understand his reasons for being here. They would question, probe, and ultimately complicate matters with their insatiable curiosity and desire for control. His life had been dictated by expectations and obligations, a puppet to the strings of legacy and power.

“Baby…I’ve got to get going..I don’t want to raise any alarm bells..”

He turned to look at her, his companion in this hidden place, her presence both a comfort and a complication. Her eyes met his, filled with a mixture of concern and determination. She had been his anchor, grounding him in a reality that often felt surreal and unattainable.

Robert stood up, adjusting his pants with a deliberate grace that spoke to his meticulous nature. The fabric rustled as he straightened, the slight tightening of his jaw the only indication of the effort it took to compose himself after their recent intimate encounter. His fingers deftly buckled his belt, a small, almost imperceptible sigh escaping his lips as he sought to regain his polished composure. There was an undeniable connection between them, a palpable tension that lingered in the air, despite the casual manner in which he now moved.

He extended a hand towards her, a gesture that was both gallant and genuine. His fingers were strong, capable, yet there was a gentleness to his touch as she placed her hand in his. Their fingers intertwined briefly, a silent communication passing between them in that fleeting moment. Her smile was radiant, lighting up the cave, and he found himself responding in kind, a rare, genuine smile spreading across his own lips. It was a smile that reached his eyes, softening the hard edges of his usually stoic expression.

"You know I have to go," he said, his voice a deep, soothing murmur that resonated in the quiet room. There was a hint of regret in his tone, a reluctance to leave this moment behind. "But I'll be back. This... us... it's not over." His words were a promise, a vow that he would return to continue what they had started. There was a sincerity in his voice that left no room for doubt; he meant every word.

She nodded, her eyes reflecting the same mix of emotions that he felt – the yearning, the anticipation, and the bittersweet reality of their current situation. "I know," she replied softly, her voice tinged with a wistful hope. "I'll be waiting."

He moved with a certain precision and calculated grace as he approached his yacht. The sun was still coming up but he still had time. As he reached the gangway, his mind was preoccupied with the events of the day. It had been a day filled with corporate maneuverings, discreet phone calls, and strategic decisions that would determine the future of his family's conglomerate. Yet, as he looked back over his shoulder, his thoughts were suddenly interrupted.

In the water behind him, she was there, her transformation mesmerizing and otherworldly. She had been with him earlier, her human guise a beautiful facade. But now, as she dipped into the water, her form began to shift, scales shimmering in the twilight, her hair flowing like dark silk beneath the waves. She was a siren, a creature of myth and legend, and her presence was both a mystery and a distraction. Robert felt a strange pull, an attraction that went beyond the physical.

"The anchor...is a little stuck," Robert said, his voice carrying a note of frustration mixed with a plea for assistance. He knew he could handle it himself, but the presence of her was something he would give anything and everything in the world to see more of. She swam closer to the yacht, her movements graceful and fluid, as if she were one with the water. She regarded Robert with a knowing smile, her lips curving in a way that suggested she was well aware of the effect she had on him. "Let me help you with that,"

She reached the anchor, her fingers deftly maneuvering it, untangling the chain from the rocky seabed. Robert took this moment to steady himself, his hands gripping the polished railing of the yacht.

She looked back up at him and smiled; “Promise to come back?”

Robert leaned over the stainless steel railing, and smiled back; “Of course I will.”

With a final, lingering look, she dipped beneath the waves, her form disappearing into the azure depths. Robert stood there for a long moment, the gentle rocking of the yacht lulling him into a contemplative state. He realized that what could have been a simple one time encounter was now turning into a very real and serious encounter.. however he’s not complaining.

Author’s Notes:

I love writing smut where it doesn’t even belong, and yes let’s make Robert a whiny little sub for the siren then uhh fuckin’ the shit out of them! Why not?!?

Sure she has clothes on and I’m not forced to elaborate any further on how the hell she has them on in the first place.I’m noticing I’m getting a better at this…hmmmmm

Credit for the little sparkle smol divider: Cafekitsune

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fandomfucker · 7 months

Text

Just You-Dominik Mysterio X OC

Request: Jasmine only has feelings for Dominik but the rest hit on her but she only likes Dom

Word Count: 1,601

Jasmine’s POV

The lights from above shone in my eyes, nearly blinding me as me and my faction, the Judgment Day, stood in the ring. Damian, our "leader" was speaking to the crowd over the mic. My job tonight was pretty much to just stand in the background and nod along so I wasn't paying too much attention to what was being said.

The group was made up of me, Rhea, who quickly became one of my best friends, Damian, who was like an older brother to me, and Finn who acted like my father but I was also good friends with. And then there was Dominik.

Dominik and I were by far the closest of any of the Judgment Day members since we were not only the youngest members, but the newest.

Dominik and I had met only a few months ago when I joined the Judgment Day, but I had had a crush on him since our first meeting.

I only began to pay attention again when my name was brought into the ongoing conversation.

"And Jasmine here, as gorgeous as ever," Damian grinned at me, pairing it with a small wink. "I can tell you're itching for a fight. Aren't you, mi sirenita?"

My cheeks burned from the unexpected compliments but I stepped forward, leaning into the microphone he held out anyway, deciding to play into it.

"Wrong princess, Sweetheart. But I am itchin' for a fight. Against Iyo Sky for instance, since she was too chicken to fight me last week."

Damian made an exaggerated shocked face as the crowd 'oohed' in response and I stepped back, crossing my arms over my chest as Rhea slung an arm over my shoulder, pulling me into her side.

Damian kept speaking to the crowd until our allotted time ran out, signaled by The Other Side beginning to play over the speakers as the lights surrounding us turned purple.

Dominik held the ropes open for me and Rhea to slip out as Finn waited on the ground in front of me.

He held his hand out to help me down and pulled me into his side as my feet hit the floor.

I smiled gratefully at his as I slipped my arm around his waist in response as the five of us backed back into the gorilla.

Once back behind the curtain, I stepped away from Finn and made my way over to the refreshments table along the back wall to grab some water.

Whether you were doing anything or not, the lights on you in the ring will have you sweating.

Just as I reached for a bottle, a tattooed hand came around my side, grabbing the same one I was just about to grab.

I turned around to face the thief, my short-lived anger switching to bemusement as I watched her twist open the bottle cap before taking a swig of water, her eyes never breaking contact with mine.

A drop of water rested on her bottom lip as she pulled the bottle away. Grinning wickedly at me, she swiped her thumb over her lip sensually, drawing my gaze. And just before she walked away, she sent me a suggestive wink, taking the water with her.

Completely baffled, I just turned and watched her walk away until she turned the corner and I couldn't see her anymore.

I stood there staring at where she had just stood in front of me moments before, trying to figure out what was going on.

Shaking my head slightly to clear my thoughts, I turned back to the table to actually grab water this time.

I jumped in surprise as I was met face-to-face with an angry Dominik. "What the hell was that, Jasmine?" His nostrils flared in anger as he stared me down.

My brows furrowed in confusion as I replayed my encounter with Rhea in my head. "How should I know? Rhea was just being, extra Rhea."

"Not just Rhea, cariño. Finn and Damian have been all over you all night too." Steam practically came out of his ears he was so mad.

"I don't know, Dom. They just started doing it." I spoke softly, now slightly scared at just how incredibly angry he was. Taking a step back, I saw his eyes follow my movement and soften.

He reached out a hand, grabbing my wrist gently to stop me from moving back any further. "Jasmine, I'm so sorry. I didn't mean to scare you, I just..." He trailed off, looking off to the side in thought before thinking better of it and releasing my wrist, taking a step back.

"Never mind. I'll see you later for our next segment." He dismissed me shortly before dropping my wrist and back up before quickly walking away.

Confusion was displayed clearly on my face as I watched his retreating back. My heart hurts at his outright anger at me with no explanation.

I searched my mind for an answer but I still just couldn't figure out a reason for him to be so upset.

Blinking back the tears threatening to spill, I grabbed a bottle of water before hurriedly making my way to where I knew my best friend would be.

"Hey, Jasmine! Ooh! I have an idea for a new Tiktok for us t-" Cathy cut herself off as she saw the expression on my face. "What's wrong?"

Sniffling, I stared up at the ceiling as I wiped at my waterline. "I don't even know, Cat. Everyone in Judgment Day's been extra touchy today and now Dominik's mad at me and I don't know why."

Her expression softened from the concern previously there. Wordlessly she opened her arms for me to hug her.

Immediately, I fell into her arms, wrapping my own tightly around her in response as I burst into tears, clinging onto her for dear life.

"Oh, Jasmine." She sighed softly, backing us up into a more secluded corner of the hallway.

Her fingers gently brushed through my hair as I kept my tight grasp on her body.

Eventually, my breaths evened back out and the tears stopped flowing so heavily as I peeled away from Cathy.

"What do I do?" My voice broke.

Cathy sighed in response, reaching up to brush some stray hairs off my cheek where they had stuck to the dried-up tears.

"I think you need to go and talk to him, Jasmine."

I angrily swiped another tear away just as it fell. "But what if he won't talk to me?"

She handed me some napkins for me to clean myself up with. "You'll just have to take the chance and hope he will."

She smiled sadly at me as I nodded to myself, beginning to rip the corner of the napkin to shreds with anxiety.

Taking in a deep breath I addressed Cathy before making my way further backstage. "Thanks, Cat, I don't know what I'd do without you."

Scanning the names on each dressing room door, I looked for ours, not quite remembering where it was.

I knocked on the door quickly before stepping inside, wanting to make sure that anyone who was possibly in there was decent before barging in.

Walking in, I immediately spotted Dominik, the man of the hour, sitting on the couch with his head in his hands.

He looked up when he heard me walk in and scowled, standing up and making his way to leave.

"Wait, can we talk?" I pleaded, still fiddling with was what left of the napkin Cathy had handed me.

Dominik nodded and crossed his arms as he stood there waiting for me to speak my piece.

Nervously I looked up to meet his eyes. "Why are you mad at me?" I asked the first question on my mind and watched as he clenched his jaw before responding.

"Why am I mad at you?" He took a couple of slow menacing steps towards me. "I'm mad, cariño, because everyone else seems to think that they can just touch and flirt with you without consequence. And you don't even seem to notice."

As he spoke he got closer and closer to me, forcing me to back up until my back hit the door and I was looking up at him inches from my face.

My confusion must have been evident on my face as his face softened and he gently grabbed my chin, tilting my face up to his as his other hand braces himself on the wall by my head.

My breath hitched at his proximity. "They're always touchy and flirty with me. And what do you care?"

"I care because I'm in love with you!" He shouted angrily, bringing his lips even closer to mine. I could feel his breath as he leaned into my space.

Taking the opportunity, I shot forward and closed the distance. One of my hands came up to wrap around his neck, my fingers brushing over the baby hairs on the nape of his neck.

He immediately deepened the kiss, dropping the hand holding my chin to my waist, bringing my body flush against his.

I moaned as his tongue swept over my bottom lip asking for access that I immediately granted.

Pushing my body back against the wall, Dominick moved with me, grinding his hips into mine.

We pulled away only once we were both out of breath.

“I’m in love with you too,” I panted, our foreheads pressed together as we caught our breath.

“Good,” he kissed me gently, pulling away and grabbing my hand to pull me with him. “Because you're mine.”

#the judgement day #wwe raw #wwe #tjd x reader #the judgement day x reader #the judgment day #dominik mysterio #dominik mysterio x reader #tjd

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direquail · 8 months

Text

One of the other things I think about from time to time is how. Camilla is 21? She was 20 in Gideon the Ninth. Palamedes died at 20, but continues to be around and accumulating experience. How likely is it that either of them had ever left the Sixth before?

So like, framing their idealism and their insistence that they have to save not only the Oversight Body but also all the House soldiers from the populace of New Rho and the populace of New Rho from the Resurrection Beast--

It's really easy to skim over because it draws on tropes or ideological perspectives that we as the audience are probably familiar with from other media. It feels Heroic(TM) in a way that's familiar, especially with Pyrrha's insistence that they have to just save themselves and those they really care for as a foil. But also, I don't think that Muir is going to tell that kind of story just... on accident or out of habit, so is there anything else that she could be saying? She already said that Harrow the Ninth is something like "gifted kid goes to college and struggles", and 21 is not a ton older than 18. It's still well within that college age.

Because like. They're 21. They're 21, there's never been a mystery they couldn't solve before, a riddle they couldn't figure out, given resources and a little time. Camilla is the best fighter on the Sixth. Palamedes may be one of the best necromancers the Sixth ever produced.

And they have, effectively, decided they're going to Solve War.

And like. It's not going well. Of course. Pyrrha's objections start to sound less like the voice of cynicism and more like a warning that they may have bitten off more than they can chew. They might have talent, and they might have audacity, but this is a fundamental Problem in the universe and some Very talented and powerful people have tried to fix it before and wrecked themselves on it.

And Camilla is 21. She's 21, she'd never left home before she was 20, and within a month of that, she'd lost the most important person in her life, the person she was sworn to protect, and been kidnapped by insurgents that she'd probably been aware of but also probably didn't know much about, concretely. The world came apart under her feet. She adapted, she tried to do the right thing--and then Blood of Eden betrayed them and held their entire House hostage.

And she's 21. She's 21. Sure, Nona thinks the world of her, and her House was willing to leave the Dominicus system and the Empire on the Master Warden's word, and he's a few months younger than her. Camilla is great! Awesome even! Badass, for sure! But she's also a fairly young adult. And their insistence on fixing everything starts to look different, in that light.

And even though Nona is so new (and so not human) she doesn't really comprehend the scale or the situation, Camilla is also. A young, extremely talented person who is out of her depth. Who has failed in her primary duty, and then led her people into a trap.

Sure, she's great a surviving. She is. Really, really good. She's not cocky for no reason. I don't think she should be infantilized.

She's just so human, and so young.

#the locked tomb #camilla hect #tlt meta

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dragonfirerogue-writes · 2 years

Text

All Right

Wednesday x Kitsune!Reader

A/N: Last part! Thanks for the support! I'll probably do one-shots for my kitsune after this.

"Mom, I've got to go!"

Those words greeted you as you round the corner to Eugene's hospital room for a planned visit. The urgency in them made you furrow your brows as you neared the boy.

"Wednesday's one of the only friends I have. The first friend I've made. If she's in trouble, I've got to help. It's hive code."

Your steps speed up after hearing your crush's name and you almost collide with Eugene as he tries to leave. You reach out to steady him and hold him still.

"Whoa, whoa! Eug, what's going on? Wednesday's in trouble?"

He nods, causing his glasses to slide down his nose. "She and Principal Weems went to confront Ms. Thornhill who's the real bad person here." Rushing to explain, he grabs your arm and pulls you along. "We figured it out while she was visiting on her way out. It's been hours though and I haven't heard from her at all."

That news would've had you moving at mach speed, but you opted to let Eugene lead the march. You didn't want to leave him behind. The both of you reach the streets, bypassing the hospital staff surprisingly easily. Orienting yourself to your surroundings, you begin the trek to Nevermore.

"We have to get to the hive. I need my bees at the ready." You nod in reply.

In your peripheral, you notice squad cars. All but one, surprisingly. You think for a moment before making a decision. In quick movements, you dart to each car and slash every tire. With a satisfied smirk, you race back to Eugene.

"That'll keep the cops from interfering. We'll have to make sure that the school is safe. If that drawing of Crackstone and Wednesday was any indication things'll go down ther-"

There's a sudden pull in your chest that makes you stumble. Your heart feels like it's caught in a vice and it's getting harder to breathe. Your eyes dart around until you feel the pull again. Instinctually, you seem to know why.

"Y/N!" Eugene calls out. "We gotta hurry!"

"You go ahead, Eugene. I know you need your bees." Your vulpine features begin to appear. "I think... I think Wednesday needs me right now." As you take a step, a burst of foxfire springs from your feet. "We'll meet up afterwards. Stay safe."

In a flurry, you launch forward and let your heart pull you to its destination.

-----+++++-----

Death wasn't something Wednesday feared. All paths lead to it. But laying on a cold stone floor with a knife protruding from her stomach made her feel like she could've done more. She should've done more. Sure, she wasn't scared of death but losing made it so much worse.

As the goth laid with her life slowly seeping out, she thought about her schoolmates. Her... Friends. Were they capable of stopping Joseph Crackstone? Could they end Laurel and Tyler? There were too many variables that Wednesday couldn't control now.

And what about Y/N? Wednesday closed her eyes and sank into the memory made hours earlier. Soft hands caressing her skin. Warm presence enveloping her once thought dead heart. Love was the last thing she ever wanted in life and yet it found her here. But the feelings you made her feel ended up becoming familiar the more you spent time with her. She was so used to it that the moment you weren't a constant anymore, it pained her immensely. She was always more of a sadist than a masochist.

As she let herself live in that memory during her final moments, a familiar roar of flames sounded nearby, followed by a more familiar voice.

"Wednesday!"

She forces her eyes open to see your worried face. Almost immediately, you were at her side, gently moving her so you could cradle her against you.

"H-how did you find me?"

A weak smile graced your lips. You gave yourself any excuse to touch her face. It made you feel better that she was still breathing.

"You called for me." Wednesday was confused. She thought of you, that was a definite, but summoning wasn't the goal. You just laugh at the confusion. "My heart led me here, as stupid as that sounds. Looks like you don't need my spirit orb to get me by your side."

Closing your eyes, you press your lips onto the top of her head. You could feel Wednesday get colder. It was as if she was slipping through your arms.

"I don't know what I can do... How can I help?"

"You can't..."

You hold Wednesday tighter. Tears threatened to fall, but you wouldn't allow them. You had to believe that your love would be okay.

You had to.

A moment of silence stretched for what seemed like hours before you hear Wednesday's voice again.

"Are you here to take me to the other side?"

Your head jolts up and you look around, seeing nothing. When you look down at Wednesday, you see her eyes trained towards something on her other side.

"Is your spectral vision impaired? I'm dying!"

You let out a soft laugh which draws Wednesday's attention. "Goody is here. No doubt to find some way to riddle me into a quicker death."

Her eyes dart over to the side again to where you assumed Goody was. When she struggles to reach under her collar, the goth asks you to help take her necklace out while she speaks to her ancestor. Once complete, Wednesday takes a tight hold of it before looking at you.

"... Pull the knife out." You were about to protest but she interrupts you. "Goody has a way to heal me. But I need this blade out of my stomach so please..."

You manage a nod before taking a hold of the knife's handle. Taking a deep breath, you only give Wednesday a moment before pulling the blade out and tossing it aside. When the goth's hand covers the wound, your hand drapes over it to help stem the bleeding. There wasn't much you could do, but you tried your damnedest to do what you could. It isn't long before you see a glow appear around Wednesday's hands.

"Whoa..."

As the glow ebbs slowly, you hear a soft voice around you.

"It seems I was wrong. A Raven need not be alone on their path."

You could only barely register the words before Wednesday launches up, sucking in a breath like it was her first. She brings up her hand and you both see the wound there close up. With a wide grin, you stood up and helped Wednesday to her feet. You wanted to pull the girl into a hug, but time was of the essence.

"We have to get to the school." Wednesday was already moving as she spoke. You followed with a determined nod.

"Update me on the way."

-----+++++-----

The pair managed to make it off the island and into the woods surrounding the academy. The news of Weems's death caught you off guard but it spurred you to finish this until the very end. You knew for sure that you wanted to punch Tyler in his hyde face.

That chance came sooner than you thought.

Tyler appears in front of you, close enough that you had to back away, staying between him and Wednesday. A low growl sounds from your throat, ready to fight.

"Laurel said you were dead."

"I'm feeling much better now." As usual, Wednesday's quips were quick.

"You're like a cockroach." This time, you were quick on the draw.

"What a flatterer. I can see why you fell for him, Wednesday." That earned you a jab in the ribs.

Tyler stalks forward, his body pulsing and protruding out in odd angles. His breathing becomes labored and his clothes tear as his figure grows.

"This will not end well for you."

You crouch low as your vulpine features start to appear. Your twin tails furl out, blocking Wednesday from view.

"We'll see about that, ugly."

In an instant, the hyde claws at you. In a whirl, you take Wednesday in your arms and dodge the strike. As soon as you let her go, you dart towards the beast and attack. Like before, each of his strikes were met with three of yours. Your agility surpassed his and you were intent on making it work in your favor.

However, he managed to get a cheap shot in and throw you into a tree. In your struggle to get up, Tyler pinned Wednesday to a stump, ready to slash at her. In a burst of adrenaline, you dash towards them only to see a large furball crash into the hyde.

When you reach Wednesday, the two of you look towards your new ally before recognizing the pink and blue tips.

"Enid?"

There's a moment of recognition in the new werewolf's eyes as she sees her friends alive and breathing. But then her instincts kick in once Tyler is up and attacking again.

The two begin to battle as you and Wednesday watch. It isn't until she tugs on your arm that you look away towards her.

"I need to get to the school."

You're torn. It was unsure whether Enid could fully take on Tyler without help. But the danger at the school could end the love of your life. For good this time. After a moment of debate, you look at Wednesday with a determined face.

"Go. I'll stay and help Enid. We'll make sure Tyler doesn't make it over there." You take Wednesday's face in your hands. "If you die on me, I'll drag you back from hell myself."

"And I'll have your pelt on my wall if you should perish as well."

With those parting words, you turn away from each other. As Wednesday's footsteps retreat, you charge towards the fight ahead of you.

You reached the fray in time to lay a good strike on Tyler before he could knock Enid aside. Taking the opportunity, the werewolf body checks him into a tree. With a nod to each other, you both move in sync to flank the hyde. Enid darts forward with a growl and launches into a low slash. You follow suit, but with a high strike. Tyler's pained roar echoes throughout the woods and he swings his arms around. The unexpected thrashing caught Enid off guard and he knocked her aside.

Enid slides across the forest floor and is slow to get back up. You place yourself between the large beasts when Tyler begins stalking towards Enid. You can see the cocky smirk on his face and it infuriates you. Glancing over at Enid, you see that she's still struggling. Her face is gashed. It makes you even angrier.

There's a sudden pulse within your soul. You can feel a warmth from your core spread to your limbs. Your twin tails wave and flicker wildly. Seconds feel like hours as pulse after pulse thrum in your being. But as soon as the assault begins, it ends. There is peace for a moment. Enid looked at you with worry during the event, but now, it's with wonder.

Your two tails had become three.

Renewed power floods your veins when Tyler finally reaches you to attack. Your claws erupt in flames as you attack before he could fully extend his arm. The sudden pain causes the hyde to stagger back. The next time he looks at you, there's suddenly three, four, five versions of you surrounding him. Illusions at last. Each one he tries to hit vanishes in a mist. When he finally reaches you, the beast doesn't even get a chance to strike. Enid vaults over you and tackles Tyler, sending them careening across the forest floor. When they stop, Tyler towers over a pinned Enid until a gunshot sounds from somewhere. The hyde rears back in pain, allowing you to use your entire weight and momentum from running to knock him aside and check on Enid.

The battle ends. You don't know where Tyler ends up, but he didn't matter anymore. He wasn't a threat right now when you vaguely see his form shrink. From your peripheral, you see Enid shrink as well and you race to her side to tend to her.

Your hoodie is around her body as soon as you get to her and you pull the trembling body close to you. Hugging as tight as you could, you hold onto her until she pushes you away.

"Wednesday needs you. Go to the school."

"I can't leave you alone, E"

"I'm not alone."

Your ears catch the gentle scurry of Thing as he approaches. He gently places himself onto Enid's hand in comfort. With a smile, you nod.

"I leave her to you then, Thing."

Before getting up, you gently hold Enid's unmarred cheek and look into her eyes.

"Before I go though. You won't hear this from your mom, so I'm gonna say it and mean it. I'm so fucking proud of you, Enid."

She gives you a wide grin before urging you to leave again. You bound away as fast as you can, hoping that you can make it to Wednesday before anything bad happens.

-----+++++-----

"Howdy Pilgrim."

The sudden appearance of Goody's descendent surprised Joseph Crackstone. How can someone he sent to the depths of hell still be walking amongst the living?

"How canst thy heart still beat? What demon sorcery is this?"

Wednesday is silent as she readies her sword, the same that her parents used against Garrett Gates years ago. Before a battle could begin, however, a voice sounds from behind Wednesday.

"Stay away from her!"

There's only a moment for the goth to register that Xavier is there before an arrow speeds past her. The missile was halted before it could hit its target. Crackstone seems to be using some sort of magic to manipulate it. How ironic.

The Pilgrim turns the arrow with a menacing grin and launches it back to its sender. Wednesday, keen on protecting all of the students, steps into its path and takes the hit on her shoulder in Xavier's stead. When the boy tries to help, Wednesday assures that she's fine and commands him to help the lingering outcasts. It takes a moment, but Xavier relents and leaves as the goth expertly removes the arrow from her person.

Taking up the blade once more, she attacks the revived corpse. Crackstone retaliates with his staff, trading blows and dodging strikes. In the end, there is a final parry that shatters Wednesday's blade, leaving her defenseless.

Crackstone takes the opportunity to use his staff's magic to pin Wednesday against an upturned table. The force of the magic pushes air from her lungs, making it difficult to breathe. Wednesday can only watch and listen to the cackles of a deranged dead man.

"I will send you back to hell."

Another push of magic surges against Wednesday and she can feel her ribcage collapsing under the pressure. There's a moment of uncertainty before the tip of a blade pierces through Crackstone's chest. With a wail, the Pilgrim turns towards his assailant, revealing a brave Bianca before him. Before she can do any more damage, he casts her away, sending her flying across the quad.

Using the distraction to her advantage, Wednesday crouches and reaches into her waistband. Completely defenseless, she was not. There was one more trick up her sleeve. Your birthday dagger.

As soon as Crackstone turns to face his original opponent, Wednesday drives the dagger into his heart. A pause. A breath. Crackstone is in disbelief. His time was far too short and yet he was so close to achieving his goal. But once again, an Addams ruins everything for him.

Wednesday pulls the dagger from his chest with a twist and a burst of foxfire emits from the wound. This causes Crackstone's body to char, embers appearing as his body begins to crack and crumble. Just as both Bianca and Wednesday think that he's just going to disintegrate into a pile, a magical pulse rushes from his body and explodes outwards, taking everything his magic caused with him.

Bianca joins Wednesday, looking around in disbelief. They share a smile until the click of a gun sounds behind them. Laurel Gates is still there to contend with.

"You brought a gun to a swordfight," Wednesday noticed. "That's probably the first smart decision you've made today."

The former Nevermore teacher stalks forward, gun pointed directly at Wednesday.

"I might not get to kill all the outcasts, but at least I'll get to kill you, Wednesday."

She pulls the trigger, resulting in an echoing bang. Silence follows until a groan breaks it.

You made it in time.

"Ugh... I hate getting shot." Bianca balks at you.

"You've been shot before!?"

"Yeah. Fox. Hunters. You know."

A frustrated growl pulls your attention as Laurel cocks her pistol again. Her aim is still on Wednesday despite your body blocking the way.

"I will get my revenge. My destiny will be fulfil- What?"

Barely noticeable to the rest of you, a bee sits right at the front sight of the pistol. It stalls Laurel enough for everyone to register a loud humming coming towards them. No, not humming.

Buzzing.

Before you know it, a swarm of bees engulf Laurel, stinging her and sending her to her demise. Eugene appears, hands held out as he controls his army.

"That's what you get for messing with Nevermore, bitch."

You have never been more happy to see the bee boy. He looks over at you and Wednesday with a proud smile.

"Hummers stick together, right?" You both reply with a solid nod.

Now that things are over, your knees buckle and you land on your butt, suddenly exhausted. Soon enough, the police arrive and all is well in the school once more.

-----+++++-----

You're sitting in the quad with your fellow dancers. After everything that happened, the school decided to close for the rest of the semester. You were glad for it, but you were going to miss people. One person in particular.

Said person caught your attention and you bid your friends goodbye before making your way over to the pale goth. A tinge of jealousy springs up when you see the item in her hands though.

"I see Xavier gave you his gift. Must be nice to be able to buy people the latest phone on the market like it's nothing," you grumbled.

Wednesday just rolls her eyes before shoving the phone into your hands.

"If I'm going to keep this, I might as well use it. Xavier already put his number in, but it could do with a few more." She looks at you expectantly. It was unnecessary seeing as you were already typing in your number and taking a selfie to set as the contact icon. After calling your phone to get Wednesday's number, you hand the device back.

"There. Contact info exchanged. I hope we keep in touch."

You sit on one of the low walls, leaning against the column it was attached to. While you knew you would keep in touch with the rest of your friend group, Wednesday was an unknown. Even with your growing relationship.

"I'm sure Enid invited you to San Fran," you say with a grin. "You're more than welcome to visit me in New Hampshire. Not too far from here, at least."

Wednesday stares at you and you welcome it. You don't think you ever really found it unnerving. It was a strange comfort whenever her dark eyes were on you. That should've been the first indication of how bad you had it for her.

"... I wouldn't be against you visiting me either."

If your smile got any wider, your face would be split in half. The fact that Wednesday wanted your company sent you over the moon.

"I'd love that. It'd be nice to see my dark soul in her natural habitat." A small chuckle escapes your lips when you're suddenly face to face with Wednesday. This close, you see uncertainty in her eyes as they flicker around, taking in your face. When she speaks though, there's a resolve in her voice.

"When you were upset with me, I didn't know why it affected me so." Her hands come up and cup your cheeks. You weren't sure whether the chill from her hands or the gentle touch sent shivers down your spine.

"When I kissed Tyler, while still pleasant at the time, it felt off." Her thumbs start to caress your cheeks and your eyes flutter slightly.

"I wonder... Will it feel off with you as well?" You're afraid this is a dream. You don't want to break this spell. With the lightest of touches, you reach for Wednesday's waist.

"Well..." You whisper. "There's only one way to find out."

You're not sure who moves first. You just know that as soon as your lips meet hers, nothing else matters. The ruckus and noise around you fade as Wednesday fills your every sense. Every time your lips part, you pull her back for more. Her hands are braced on your neck as she straddles your lap. Your arm holds Wednesday in place as your other hand travels up her back. She fits perfectly in your hands and you wonder if this is why legends of soulmates exist.

As much as you want to suffocate in Wednesday's embrace, oxygen calls to you. The goth leans back and you can see faint colors on pale skin. No doubt you're in the same way. You lean up to press your forehead against hers.

"What's the verdict?"

There's a devilish grin you've never seen on Wednesday before. While it should scare you, it only excites you more.

"Inconclusive. More testing is required, mia volpe."

Music to your ears.

+______________+Tag List+______________+

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#a dragon tries to write #wednesday addams x reader #wednesday x reader #wednesday (netflix)#Wednesday Addams

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