#but he isn't an actual resident so it doesn't count

[garfieldbabe]

Hate the fact I live in the same relatively small country as some celebrities. I could quite probably pass N3il Guyman on the street one-day and not even realize. Very scary

[serene-destruction]

(Platonic) Reactions To Finding Out You're In Hell For Killing Your Abuser [Angel, Lucifer, Alastor, Vox]

TW: Mentions of childhood sexual abuse | Cannon typical violence | Mentions of suicide

A/n: this one is really dark so reader discretion is greatly advised. Read at your own risk.

Word Count: 4.5k

Angel Dust

You and Angel Dust likely met at the hotel. You were a newer resident of hell that just so happened to be spotted by Charlie and taken in after wondering the streets.

He didn't take to you right away, considering he had his own issues to deal with. Not to mention that you were such a goody two shoes that it kinda made him feel even worse about himself. Despite his name he knew he was far from any angel and your presence only exemplified that.

By all accounts you seemed to save your shit together. A drug free, pure and kind person, through and through. You never faltered. So it takes a while for him to even stand being in your presence, longer to actually try and talk with you. He hates that he doesn't find something to hate about you. Just so damn perfect.

He should have known better, truthfully. No one gets sent to hell off a whim, there were reasons. He was just so blinded by your purity at first that he doesn't see it. He isn't the only one, either. Charlie would be the first to use you as an example of purity.

But all the same the two of you do end up getting close to each other. You may be a bit straight-laced for his taste, but he can't help but grow attached. You're a good kid, you really don't deserve to be here.

It only takes one night for his perceptions of you to shatter

It started with one of Charlie's trust games. You were all meant to share what sins brought you down here. In a place like hell that wasn't usually a very taboo subject. Murder, drugs, sex, Angel's heard it all. But despite that assurance you wanted absolutely nothing to do with the exercise. You had locked yourself in your room, refusing to participate. So while the others went on ahead Angel decided he'd talk to you.

“Kid! C’mon, it can't be that bad!”

“I don't want to!” You were adamant. He should have known it right then

“Kid…look, can ya at least let me in? I'm tired of yelling through the door!” He pleaded and, to his surprise, you did. Your eyes avoided him completely as you allowed him to step in the room. Even when the two of you sat down on your bed you didn't budge. You looked almost as terrified as the first day you came here.

“Look, I get that admittin’ what you done can be a bit…embarrassin’ sometimes,” he's tries to calm you.

“But none of us are perfect and you ain't any different. Hell, it might even be good for you” his attempt at comfort didn't seem to be working. In fact he might have made it worse, given how you turned further away from him.

“It’s not just because it's embarrassing! I- I just don't want to tell everyone!” you answer through a tightening voice. There's a pause as Angel considers your words before he speaks again.

“Then you don't gotta tell everyone. You can just tell me” He was surprised when the offer had you turning back to him, though your discomfort was still evident. You didn't say anything at first but eventually you found the words.

“...Promise you won't tell anybody?” he fought the urge to roll his eyes. He was sure you were being overdramatic. You probably told a little lie that got out of control or accidentally kicked a puppy or-

“Promise” he answered anyway.

And so you told him

“I…I was tired of him touching me” Angel’s stomach immediately drops at just those few words. All of his previous downplaying caused an explosion of guilt within him.

“He was always touching. Every day since I was little. Every time he was over, every time I was alone. I couldn't- I…I just wanted it to be over”

He knew where this was going.

“I-I snapped. I just couldn't take it anymore. Eighteen fucking years” your voice is a mix of rage and pain, a sound he didn't think you capable of until now.

“I'd never been so angry. I didn't- I didn't know what I was doing until it was over. There was blood everywhere- I killed him and…and I couldn't live with myself. I'd never done something like that before! I'd never hurt anyone! I couldn't live with that- I couldn't-”

Before you can spiral any further you feel Angels hand land on yours. With slow, purposeful movements he pulled you into his arms. You freeze for a moment, caught entirely off guard by the sudden comfort. He was careful not to hold you too tight and keep his breaths steady. Keep himself predictable.

“S’okay kid…You didn't do a damn thing wrong” his whispered words break through your shock, melting you into a pile of sobs in his arms, gripping onto him like your very soul depended on it.

After that night the two of you quickly become known for your fierce protectiveness over each other. Angel swears that if he ever sees the bastard he'll rip him a new asshole before shoving a spike in it.

Lucifer Morningstar

You were one of many assistants to Lucifer, helping him with the many tasks he doesn't ever keep up with as the king of hell. You are most likely ignored and/or forgotten about for a while. He is far too, uh…busy for remembering much of anything, let alone names and job titles.

However you do manage to catch his eyes when he finally notices your apparent lack of any sort of social life in hell. Unlike the others he has working for him who seem all too happy to indulge in hells many depraved luxuries, you aren't one of them.

It triggers his curiosity, so he starts to remember your name and even manages to strike up conversations with you that don't sound like he's desperately trying to remember who he's even talking to.

You begin to be the first person he goes to when he needs something done and in turn you go to him when you need something as well. It's never anything too much, he notices. Always just small tasks that take him almost no effort at all. But you seem to beam at even the smallest kindness.

But then there is that ill-fated night…

It was late and you were still hard at work in your office.

Or at least you would have been, if you didn't feel like the weight of everything was weighing down on you as you stared down the two items Lucifer had left for you. A small note and a tiny rubber duck. You kept re-reading the note over and over again.

‘You're a good kid, Y/n. Keep it up’

The small gesture had formed a sickening guilt in you. You were the farthest thing from good. What you had done rightfully landed you in the shithole you belonged in. You didn't deserve his kindness, let alone his care. You felt so guilty for ever allowing him to think that you-

A knock at your door has you quickly wiping away your tears. Before you can say anything he opens it, his wide smile falling immediately.

“Oh no, what-” he pauses when he sees the death grip you have on the rubber duck he'd gifted, your eyes unable to even glance at him. He gives a nervous laugh at that. It sounds more worried than anything.

“You uh- don't like the gift, I take it?” At that your head whips to look at him, an attempt to calm your nerves written all over your face.

“No! No that's not-…no” your frantic words die down quickly as you quickly turn away again, unable to look the man in the eyes. There is a long silence that feels almost like an eternity passing. Then, to your complete surprise, he slowly pulls up a chair next to you, his eyes not turning from you for even a moment.

“Do you…maybe wanna talk about what it is then?” His voice is disarming, a mix of poorly feigned calm and genuine concern. It frightens you how quickly he makes you want to spill your guts.

“It's- I’m not-” You pause, trying to collect your words. You know then that you can't bear to tell him anything but the truth.

“I don't deserve this” you gesture to the toy and his letter. He doesn't seem to understand.

“You? Y/n, you're practically the only reason I get any work done around here! The least I can do is this, truly. Why wouldn't you deserve it?” His tone is full of disbelief, almost entirely sure that you must be avoiding telling him the entire truth.

“Because it isn't true” the bluntness of your words catches him off guard.

“I killed him and…and it felt good when I did it. It felt good to hurt him like he hurt me, it felt good being in control. It didn't feel bad when I put that knife through his throat, It didn't feel bad when I finally got him to stop touching me. It didn't…until it was over” the tears that had brimmed at your eyes fell like rivers, your attempts to wipe them away fruitless. You didn't dare look him in the eye, even as you continued.

“There was so much blood. I…I didn't know what to do. I- I didn't mean- no, no I did. But I just couldn't live with it. I couldn't live knowing that I killed him and that all I could think about was that he'd never touch me again! I couldn't-!” your words are cut off by the feeling of arms wrapping around you. For a moment you freeze, confused and horrified by the action, that is until the comfort of it seeps into you, knowing that the hands that held you now meant no harm. After that you sobbed into him.

Only once you'd calmed your sobs to hiccups and your grip loosened did he finally pull away. But he didn't go far and his eyes looked at you with nothing but pure concern.

“You listen to me, okay? I would never hold that against you. I couldn't if I tried. You did what you had to and I trust that you did it for the right reasons” his words of forgiveness strike through you, hitting you directly in your wounded heart. Never before had you believed anyone could look so kindly upon you knowing what you'd done.

After that day Lucifer had become quite father-like to you, treating you just like he would his own kid. You practically become an honorary Morningstar.

Alastor

You and Alastor have an…interesting relationship. the two of you very likely met at the hotel, considering he wouldn't have given you a second glance otherwise. You were, after all, just one of the many other souls, and not an impressive one at that. Meek, young and weak.

It takes a long while for Alastor to warm up to you, most likely because you avoid him at all cost. You learn quickly that Alastor doesn't like being avoided like that when he begins to follow you around.

It's through conversation that he grows interested in you. When you aren't blinded by your fear he's actually a great conversationalist, especially when he's alone with you. It seems almost like he drops a bit of his guard as well, something you explain away as you being of zero threat to him. The two of you often talk of your plans for the day and whatever latest idea Charlie has conjured. Small talk, for the most part. Never anything personal

Which is why you are so caught off guard when he asks the truthfully inevitable question.

It was a usual calm morning in the hotel kitchen. A bit of smooth jazz played from an old radio, the coffee machine churned, the constant static from Alastor flowed through the room and the sound of idle chit-chat passed between the two of you. Besides the fact that no one else joined the two of you, it all seemed relatively normal.

“I must say, for someone in Hell you have quite the kind heart, my dear. One might even ask how you managed to get yourself down here” Alastors words cause your heart to sink almost immediately. Your body tenses, your breathing catching for just a moment. You make sure to keep your eyes on the coffee pot and manage to give him a halfhearted laugh. But you know the moment he goes quiet for just that second too long that he noticed.

“How did you end up down here, if you don't mind telling me?” You feel your tongue go dry, your jaw clench, your entire being beg to leave this conversation. But you knew there wasn't a chance in all of Hell that you'd get out of this. If he didn't get an answer now he'd be sure to get one later.

“I uh…” you start, nausea threatening to crawl in.

“I don't know” you try to answer, hoping beyond hope that it would satisfy him.

It did not.

“Now now, one mustn't feel the need to lie to friends. I assure you I've seen worse than whatever it is you managed to do!” You pause at his words, finally turning over your shoulder to look at him.

“We’re…friends?” You ask, surprised to see him look almost just as confused by your words.

“Why of course! The both of us have quite nice talks with one another, why wouldn't we be?” He seems so confident as he speaks. Despite how skeptical you've been ever since meeting him, you can't help but feel that he might genuinely be growing on you. Fuck, you might even trust the guy. Not with your soul, mind you, but you were sure at least your words would be safe with him.

“Out with it then, what got you sent down to this lovely pit of fire and brimstone?” his tone is jovial and light, not taking this nearly as seriously as you felt he should be. You were weirded out when it actually helped you calm down a little.

“Well…” should you tell him? Would he even care? Would he blink an eye at your suffering? Would he laugh at you? All the possibilities ran through your head at once.

When you finally turned to face him he gave you an expectant look, fully anticipating an answer from you. So you took a deep breath and turned your head to gaze at a nearby wall before beginning.

“My uncle, he um…well he didn't really know how to keep his hands to himself. Ever since I first met the man he wouldn't keep his damn hands off me. Then mom died and I had to live with him and…” you pause a moment, trying to keep yourself together. With a deep breath you continued.

“He never stopped touching me. No one believed me, no one did anything. Not when I was eight, or ten, or fifteen. Not after either. I was just alone with him. Every day of every month of every year…until I couldn't take it anymore” your voice was quiet now, just above a whisper to keep it from shaking.

“I was cooking dinner when he came behind me and-…I snapped and…well I'm not really sure. I just remember being covered in blood and knowing that no one would believe me. So I did what I thought was the only thing I could do. Next thing I knew I found out I had been damned for all eternity” you hugged yourself in an attempt at comfort that wasn't working. You managed, by the smallest effort, to keep your tears in and your breath steady, but you knew you'd break at any moment. When you turned to him, his smile still plastered and staring blankly at you, you thought you just might have done so then. So you quickly turned back around to save yourself the embarrassment.

“But yeah. Pretty sure that's why I'm here-”

“That was quite brave of you” his words shock you still enough that you might have even felt your heart stop. Your head snaps back to him in an instant, unsure if you'd heard him right. He's standing now, smile just a little less wide and leaning on his cane. If you didn't know any better you might have mistaken it for a look of uncanny care.

“What?” You whisper the word. He stands a little taller at that.

“When the world stops caring then one must simply make it. Very few do so, and so I applaud your effort in taking fate into your own hands” he is serious, almost deathly so. His words aren’t what you expected, but they are actually some of the most comforting you'd ever heard. Not only because he believed you, but because he truly believed you'd done the right thing.

“...Thank you” his smile widens again and you catch how ever so slightly bigger his antlers have gotten and the small flicks of green that seem to only show in your peripheral. You choose not to say anything about it.

“Of course! Now I simply must be on my way! There is much to do and so little time. Have a pleasant rest of your morning!” he was out the door before you even realized he was leaving. You would have said goodbye yourself if you didn't know he was already gone. And without his coffee too!

After this little incident Alastor seems almost tied at your hip. You are warned time and time again not to get too close to him but after the way he took the news of your sin you honestly don't think you could push him away. He was the first person you'd ever told in Hell, the first person to ever believe you. And given how keen he is on keeping you safe both in and out of the hotel you are quite happy to call him a friend.

Vox

The only way you'd be able to get even a second glance from Vox is if you worked for him and, let's be real, he couldn't have given less of a shit about you when he first met you. You were one out of thousands that worked on his many, many projects. You were lucky if he ever even read your name, let alone remembered it.

It takes quite the circumstance for him to notice you and it's likely only because of very selfish reasons. Maybe he picks you out of the crowd as a gag at first. The big CEO talking to this meek little low life, giving them a glance at something they'll never achieve.

But Vox has a way of getting attached to the strangest things sometimes and you end up being among them. Maybe it's the way you go along with whatever he's saying, playing to his ego. Maybe it's the way he knows you don't mean a single word and he feels he has to prove himself. Or maybe he just liked having a bit of a babyface around to impress. Either way, he ends up kind of taking you in.

You become a sort of protege to Vox as he teaches you all about his company and how to run it; mostly so he can hand you the tasks of the day that he doesn't feel like handling. You're a secretary of sorts. He does, however, try to keep a distance between you and the other V’s. Mostly because he knows they can be a bit much and he doesn't want to scare you off just yet.

But it's inevitable that you would meet them someday. And, as he expected, the first meeting didn't go very well.

You and Vox were on your way down the hall in the middle of idle conversation that was mostly work related. You liked having these conversations with him, mostly because he always seemed so pleased when you'd give him an idea he liked or a change he'd consider. You felt useful in a way you hadn't really ever felt before-

“My my, if it isn't Vox and his new little pet” the voice speaks behind you and both you and Vox turn to see who it is. You are set on edge when Vox gets suddenly nervous.

“Val! I thought you had work down in the studio today?” Vox’s voice booms in the way you know he only does when he's trying to keep his cool. You make sure to stand a little closer to him when Val walks up to the two of you.

“You've been hiding from me, love. So I figured I'd pay a visit. Good thing too” the moth man leans down to you so close you feel your entire being beg to disappear.

“I wouldn’t have met the darling that's been keeping Voxy so occupied. Cosita bonita” he looks down at you, his smile alone sending a cold shiver up your spine. He grabs your hand and instead of doing anything normal like shaking or kissing it, he instead begins to lick up your arm.

“Rumor has it your little fall from grace betrays how sweet as you look” Horrified and feeling very familiar fear consume your being, you freeze up. Luckily, and rather surprisingly, Vox very quickly pulls him away from you.

“Alright, alright that's enough of that!” his tone is that of a light reprimand, though the swirls in his eyes betray him. He effortlessly spins the moth man around in something similar to a dance, ending with the two of them facing away from you. Whispered words are exchanged, Val glancing back at you for only a moment afterwards before walking off with no complaint.

Vox straightens his suit, his performative smile falling for a moment before turning back to you.

“Let's get back on our way” he beckons you as he continues to walk. You follow along, compliant as ever. He leads you to an elevator where the two of you get in and he clicks whatever floor he'd decided he had work on. You think everything is relatively normal until, with a wave of his hand, the elevator stops.

“What did he mean?” The question confuses you.

“...about what?” You ask, unsure what he was getting at. He turns to you.

“About your ‘fall from grace', what was he getting at?” the realization dawns on you the same way acid would drip into an old wound. There was really only one thing that could mean and the fact that a man you'd never met knew enough to mention it made you sick to your stomach.

“Kid?” He calls to you and it's only then you notice tears build in your eyes. You quickly blink them away before making sure to avoid looking in his general direction.

“I…don't know” you tried, very unconvincingly, to feign ignorance. Unfortunately that didn't go over well with him.

“I don't think I've met a worse liar in the entirety of Hell than you” he states plainly and you can't help but agree. You hadn't really ever had practice in the field. Yet even with his call on your bullshit you chose to stay silent.

“Look, If Val knows then chances are I'm finding out anyway. He's not exactly great at keeping his mouth shut” he tries to convince an answer out of you but his words only make it worse. You didn't want that creep to know in the first place! But, being ever so horrible at keeping such a cold front up, you break under his gaze.

“It’s why I'm in Hell” you start off vague and you notice how he leans in just a bit closer.

“Seriously? That's what's got you upset? What, was it embarrassing? Because believe me, I'm sure I've heard worse” he was really trying to sell you that notion, what with the wide smile and undivided attention, but you couldn't help the nagging voice that told you he wouldn't believe you.

But still, you assumed it better he heard it from you than Val. After all, you and Vox were pretty close at this point. If there was anyone that you'd tell, it would be him.

“No it's- well it is embarrassing, but-” you stammer a moment, trying to find the right way to say it. Soon enough you fix your eyes on the metal doors and just spill.

“I had an uncle. I lived with him for a while, most of my human life really. And he uh…I was just a kid at the time and he- he couldn't keep his hands to himself. Just kept…touching me. For years” the way the information pours out of you is forced. Like you have to pry it from your own mind and shove it out your throat. But there was no point stopping now.

“And then I just couldn't take it anymore. I don't even really know what happened. One second I was cooking dinner and the next he came behind me and…and then everything was bloody and…” you trail for a moment, your mind brought back to that horrific memory. Without a thought you finally turn to Vox.

He looks completely deflated, stripped of that egocentric smile of his and leaving nothing but a shocked still expression in its place. His mouth hangs slightly open as if to say something, but no words come. You feel your tears sting your eyes at the sight.

“No one believed me when I told them what he was doing, no one believed me when I told them for how long. So I knew when I killed him it would just be the same. That they'd make him a martyr and I'd be the villain and- and I couldn't deal with that! I- I didn't want to live through that again!” your voice raises at the end, voice pleading to be listened to, to be believed. Fuck, even just heard.

You get what you ask for with his stunned silence and tense posture. After a moment though you can't help but feel like you want to take your words back, his silence disturbing you greatly.

Just as you're about to ask him to forget what he'd heard, to pretend like you hadn't ever said anything and move on like normal, his hands reach slowly for you. The movement confuses you so greatly that you don't even think to stop him when he silently pulls you into him. You stand rigid for a long moment before, bit by bit, melting into sobs. He holds you tighter in the silence of the elevator and you can't help but grip onto him like your afterlife depended on it.

It's after this that Vox becomes fiercely protective of you. It's incredibly strange for everyone, including yourself. He is adamant that it's just because you know so much about his company, that it's all purely business. But when you think back to that day in the elevator you can't help but believe that he might just actually care about you.

[voonroo]

I had an idea for a hazbin hotel headcanon thing you could do if ya want—

Maybe a (platonic) hazbin hotel cast (like not the entirety of the cast, just the characters at the hotel) with a reader who is incredibly touch-starved in general? And it is very obvious considering they practically weaken or melt anytime someone touches them.

Touch Starved

⌐‣Hotel Cast + Reader REQ

Want more? Check out the masterlist↩︎

AUTHOR’S NOTE: I am loving these platonic requests😍

Hotel Cast + Reader

The first one to notice this behavior would be either Alastor (to no one's surprise) or Angel.

Occasionally Alastor will spare a pat here or there but it doesn't happen often.

Since he's not too touchy he prefers to analyze you from a distance.

He's probably said something along the lines of “Touch starved aren't you!” while walking past you hugging another resident.

Other than that, no one else says anything.

Angel would be one of the first to notice your tendencies.

He’ll do hugs every now and again but prefers to just mess with your hair.

Definitely the type to randomly lean on you with all of his body weight though, so watch out.

Charlie is your go-to girl for physical affection.

Hugs? Absolutely get over here she already has her arms held open.

Would 100% greet you with hugs.

Vaggie on the other hand, isn't going to be too into it.

However, at the same time, she is the type to initiate physical touch unconsciously.

Pentious would definitely be okay with random forms of affection.

You want someone to hold your hand? He's got you. Just want a hug?

Another person to greet you with a hug.

The most you will probably get from Husk is knees touching when sitting next to each other.

He won't push you away if you want a hug but he's not outwardly happy about it either.

The type to side hug you for like two seconds.

Nifty would actually just cling to you if you’d let her.

She has no problems with scaling up your body and just sitting on your shoulders or something.

Overall I think the only person who would push you away would probably be Alastor on the occasion that he doesn't initiate.

Word Count: 298

[golden-cherry]

deal - cl16 (3/?)

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Reader

Series Summary: Your whole life has gone to shit. Your boyfriend broke up with you, you just lost your job and the Monegasque, who suddenly stands in your doorway, claims that it’s his apartment.

Chapter Summary: Charles takes you on an adventure, that you won't forget that easily.

Warnings: angst (talks about Charles dad), comfort, google translated French

Word Count: 3.4k

series masterlist

previous part

A/N: part 3! hope you enjoy it! feedback is appreciated!

Sitting on the passenger side of your own car is strange.

It doesn't feel completely wrong, but still, a queasy feeling spreads through you. Like when you lived with your parents. Whenever someone was visiting, your mom had said, "Just sit anywhere," and of course the guests didn't know that you had an unassigned assigned seat. And when they actually sat down in your seat and you couldn't sit in yours, you had the same feeling as you do now at this moment.

After you dressed for the weather, you grabbed your car keys and your camera. If Charles was actually taking you to the most beautiful viewpoint in the country, then maybe you could snap some pictures for your private Instagram account. Your little private photo album. With no followers, no obligations.

Charles car is at his primary residence, according to his statement. Except for a few cars, the underground garage where your car is parked is empty. Your roommate insisted on driving because, first, you don't know where the trip is going and, second, he doesn't want to tell you where to go. Grumpily, you threw him the key and he caught it with a grin. 

Then Charles made himself comfortable in the driver's seat of your old Renault as if it were his birthright. Right hand on the wheel, left elbow on the door and head propped on his hand, he maneuvers you through the streets of Monaco. Black sunglasses sit on his nose and the radio plays a pop song that somehow gets played every time you get in the car. Charles whistles along with the rhythm.

You turn in his direction. "Are you going to tell me where exactly we're going?"

Instead of answering you, he just shakes his head briefly. He runs a hand through his brown hair once, whistling merrily along. 

You roll your eyes and rub your forehead.

Not only did you just get in the car with a stranger - to be fair, it's your car and Charles isn't a stranger (anymore) - but he actually won't tell you where he's going. "Like I said, we're going to the most beautiful view," is all he replies. 

You've looked it up. According to Google, there are about fifteen lookouts. And each of them is supposed to be the "most beautiful view in Monaco," according to the websites. You looked up the locations on Google Maps, but none of them are in the direction you're heading. Maybe he's trying to kill you after all. 

"I haven't driven a real stick shift car in ages." Charles wraps his big hand around the gearshift knob to shift into the next gear. His bracelets slide from his forearm to his wrist as he does so. Without much jerking and very smoothly, you move forward.

You raise an eyebrow. "So you only drive automatic cars?"

Charles shakes his head. "My personal car - the one that's at my other apartment - is an automatic. The company car I drive is manual." His hand moves from the shift knob back to the steering wheel. His long fingers grip the worn, dark leather. 

"So what do you prefer to drive?"

He shrugs. "I like both."

You purse your lips and look out the window. You drive past small boutiques whose clothes you could never afford, and see cars whose insurance per month is sure to exceed your former annual salary. But this is nothing new to you. This is Monaco, after all. "I've never driven an automatic car before."

Charles glances over at you for a moment. "Really?" You shake your head. "It's kind of like riding a bumper car. Two pedals, gas and brake." He has to grin. "But if you ever drive automatic, please don't crash into other road users."

"Haha."

Charles drives the car out of town. The view out the window changes from old houses, whose architecture enchants you every time, to rocks and trees. By now, a quiet song is playing on the radio, Charles has stopped whistling, and somehow you're enjoying sitting here, next to your roommate, who wants to show you new, exciting things. 

It's been ages since you've been introduced to something completely new. 

The brunette turns off the main road onto a path that you would have missed yourself. It's not paved, which is why the car jolts quite a bit as you drive along. Trees and bushes line the path, and it is so narrow that it would be quite difficult if another car were to come towards you. If you were driving, you would have peed your pants for sure.

But not Charles. He drives as if he were driving this route every day. He knows where there are big rocks that he has to drive around to avoid damaging your car - which wouldn't be so dramatic - and also where he has to countersteer to avoid driving over potholes deeper than the Mariana Trench. 

When he stops after a few minutes, he turns off the car. Then he turns to you and takes off his sunglasses. "I know this place looks pretty shady, and I can understand if you don't trust me. But if you get out of here with me now, I promise you, you won't regret it." He pulls the key out of the ignition. "Unfortunately, we can't get any further here by car. That's why we have to continue on foot for a short while. If you want."

You took a leap of faith when you decided to drive here with him. And he didn't try to kill you last night. That's a big plus. And that's why you hold out your hand to him without giving it much thought. "As long as I can have the key."

A smile spreads across his face as he drops it into your hand. "Let's do it, then."

Charles wasn't lying - it's actually not a long walk. You walk side by side in silence, the key held tightly in your hand. There's not a whole lot of sunlight shining down on you through the trees, and you regret not taking a thicker jacket. You didn't expect it to be so cold in the shade. 

And then you arrive. At the most beautiful view in Monaco. 

You're standing on a small hill that can't be seen from the main road. There is a single tree here, which is why the sun can shine relentlessly on you despite the winter, warming the skin on your face. You take a few steps forward, not realizing that Charles is not following you as you take in the view.

From here, from this beautiful spot, you can actually overlook all of Monaco. The houses, the yachts, the luxury for which this country is famous. But you don't only see the typical postcard Monaco. You also see the green of the forests, small blue bays of the Côte d'Azur, which you have never seen - neither in reality nor on the Internet - and the Mediterranean Sea, which stretches out in front of you and whose sound you can hear despite the distance.

You feel Charles next to you, but can't tear your gaze away from the view. "It's..." You can't think of a suitable word to describe what you're looking at. None of the million words, both in English and the few in French, would do it justice.

"I know." His voice rings softly in your ears. "Shall we sit down?"

You settle down near the tree. The meadow is dry - thank goodness - as you sit down cross-legged, facing each other. For a few minutes, you enjoy the view in silence until Charles interrupts.

"My father showed me this spot when I was little." He plucks a few tufts of grass from the ground. "He liked to come down here when the world down there" - with a nod of his head, he points to beautiful Monaco - "got too stressful for him. Or too noisy. Or just too much." He smiles faintly. "With three young sons who liked to mess with each other, I can't blame him."

You watch as he grinds a few blades of grass between his index finger and thumb until they trickle down in small pieces. "Then he's lucky you're all grown up now."

Charles lips pucker into a thin line and he lets the remaining grass fall to the ground. He folds his hands in his lap and looks toward Monaco. Even though he has his sunglasses on, you can see he closes his eyes. He takes a deep breath. "My father died when I was nineteen."

You don't know how to respond. You're glad Charles keeps talking. "Aside from my mother, he was the best and kindest person I know. He saw something good in everyone, even if they didn't deserve it. He..." Charles swallows the lump in his throat. "He always pushed me to be better, but always brought me back down to earth when I took off. He was never disappointed in me, ever."

You have to smile. "Sounds like a wonderful man."

Charles nods. "He was." He looks back down at his hands. "I miss him every day."

It's strange to hear someone talk about their parents like that when your own are the complete opposite. You can't remember your parents ever being proud of you. Their disappointment and criticism were your constant companions, which is why you couldn't wait to finally move out. And you haven't looked back since.

"I like to come here when I'm stuck. When I'm stuck in a situation where I wish I could ask him for advice. Or I'm feeling lonely." A faint smile returned to his face. "I may not get an answer here, but somehow - I don't know - I don't feel quite so alone anymore when I'm here."

You don't know what to say to him. You've known each other for less than twenty-four hours, were at each other's throats yesterday, and yet he's confided something so intangibly private to you, while you've been nothing but skeptical of him. Charles has revealed himself to you, laid bare some of his cards, made himself vulnerable. And he did so without much hesitation.

"You don't have to tell me who called you. Or whatever that person screwed up. But if you need to talk to someone, I'm here for you." He takes the sunglasses off his nose so he can really look at you, and hangs them on the collar of his sweater. The green of the woods behind you is beautiful, but nothing can compete with the green of his eyes. "That's what friends are for, after all."

You have to smile. "Are we?" You point your index finger at the distance between you. "Friends?"

You feel your question is justified. After all, your "friends" dropped you after ... after everything that happened.

Charles shrugs. "If that's what you want. After all, we live together. Of course, I don't want to force you into it, nor could I. You'd sooner smack me with a rolled-up magazine. I just think it's almost impossible for us not to become friends."

He is right. The apartment is not very big and there is no way you could avoid each other. Especially since you don't have any obligations anymore, no job to go to every day. You'll be hanging out at home all the time and you'll definitely spend all your time next to each other, as long as Charles has nothing to do either. 

That you two will become friends is inevitable.

One look at Charles and you'll throw all worries out the window. Charles, who lets you live in his apartment. Charles, who lets you have the bedroom. Charles, who can cook incredibly well. And Charles, who takes you to the most beautiful place, even though it means so much to him. 

He looks at you in surprise as you pull the car key out of your jacket pocket and toss it to him. Surprised, he catches it. "I guess I won't need to lock the bedroom door then, will I?"

Charles grins. "I promise not to kill you while you're sleeping." With his index finger, he makes a cross over where his heart beats in his chest. "I might try it when you're awake, though." He winks at you.

Your grin widens. "Luckily, there are still some magazines lying around at home that I can use to defend myself. Just please don't do it when I'm only wearing a towel. That would be an unfair fight."

Charles laughs. He laughs even though he has just expressed one of his deepest feelings and this place reminds him of someone he loved and lost. Even though he's poured his heart out to you. And yet he's sitting there, cross-legged, in front of you, and he's got his head thrown back and he's laughing so loud you're afraid he can be heard all the way to Monte-Carlo. 

And good heavens - it's the most beautiful sound you've heard in a long time. 

For a moment longer, you enjoy the moment. Despite the call and Charles past, a lightness has spread through you that you haven't felt in ages. The worries have not fallen off your shoulders, but they are no longer so heavy and you would like to thank Charles for that. But as soon as you can open your mouth, he's on his feet in front of you again, looking down at you. 

"I didn't promise you too much, did I?" Confused, you look at him. "I mean, about the view."

You shake your head and stand up as well. Side by side, you gaze down at Monaco. "It's the perfect postcard view."

Charles watches you while you take some photos with your camera. You try to take a good picture from every angle, from every position, and as far as you can tell from the small display, some of the shots don't turn out too badly. When you turn around, Charles is standing right behind you. 

"If you need another model," he puts his hands on his hips, "I'll volunteer."

You laugh. "Absolutely not. Or I'll get a crack in the lens."

He pushes his bottom lip forward and pouts. "Okay, wow. I'm going to take that personally. Then don't." He's about to turn away from you when you manage to grab the sleeve of his sweater. He glances briefly at where your fingers are gripping the fabric, and unsure, you let go. 

"All right. One photo." You raise your camera. Charles tries to get a decent stance, puts his hands in his pockets, then decides against it, crosses his arms in front of his chest, drops them again, runs his hands through his hair. "You'll have to stand in style for me to take a decent picture."

A slight blush creeps onto his cheeks. "What exactly do you want me to do? What would you like?"

You smile at him. "Relax. This isn't a professional shoot, after all." You lower the camera again. "You said you have two brothers. What's the funniest thing you've been through together?"

Charles thinks for a moment and starts to grin. As he tells you about a Christmas when Arthur had been in charge of dessert but unfortunately switched sugar for salt, making the food inedible, you snap a photo of him. His smile is wide, a dimple adorns his cheek, and the wind ruffles his hair. You don't need to snap another. This picture is perfect. 

" ... And then we went to McDonalds in the middle of the night to get ice cream," he finishes his story. He looks up. "Did you take a picture? I didn't even notice!" He stands close to you so he can see the camera's display. His perfume hits your nose. "Oh my God." He takes a step away from you, his grin wide. "I've never looked so good. Can you send this to me?"

The walk to the car takes longer than the walk there, in no small part because you don't really want to leave. You memorize every single step so you can find Monaco's most beautiful view again. 

"Thank you for bringing me here." 

He looks up from his feet and over at you. "I've never brought anyone here before." He smiles gently. "But somehow I felt like you needed this. To be away from it all for once."

"I appreciate that very much. I promise I won't tell anyone about this." You draw a cross with your index finger where your heart beats. Just like he just did. You know how much this place means to him. Never in your life would you bring anyone else here. 

Your car comes into your field of vision. In a moment you would drive back home and everything you successfully repressed until just now would be waiting for you there. But it still can't spoil your mood. Not after the beautiful morning. 

You hear Charles inhale to say something when suddenly his phone rings. Annoyed, he pulls it out of his pocket and looks at the screen before tossing you the car keys. You almost drop them on the floor. "I need to make a quick call." His voice tone is cold, definitely not as warm and mellow as it was just a few minutes ago. "Go ahead and get in the car. I'll be right behind you."

You nod to him and walk the few feet. You catch the beginning of the conversation anyway.

"Nous en avons déjà parlé. Je t'ai dit que je ne rentrerais pas chez moi pour le moment. Non, écoute, je n'ai ni le temps ni les nerfs pour en parler avec toi. Je suis en déplacement en ce moment. Cela ne te concerne pas". coming home – discuss – not your business

You unlock the car and plant yourself in the passenger seat, which, unlike a moment ago, no longer feels too wrong. While you can no longer understand what Charles is saying, judging by his facial expressions and gestures, it's definitely not a pleasant conversation. His face is flushed and he runs his hand through his hair several times before rolling his eyes. 

When his gaze catches yours, you feel caught. As if you're watching him do something private that's none of your business. And for a moment you think that Charles is annoyed, telling you to do something other than watch him. But he just tilts his head and smiles softly before raising a finger in the air with his free hand. His mouth moves and it looks like "One minute" and some French word you can't make out by lip-reading.

You also answer him with a smile and look at the photo on the camera again. It's a little blurry and definitely not your best work, but it was taken from a beautiful moment and is one of your favorite pictures for that alone. 

"Sorry." You barely notice Charles sitting down next to you in the car.

You drop the key into his open hand and look at him with concern. "Are you okay?"

He breathes in and out before putting the key in the ignition and letting the engine rev. He doesn't give you an answer to your question, but starts a new topic. "We're going to see Joris. I'd love to know how he got the idea to rent out the apartment without discussing it first." He doesn't smile, but his voice is no longer so callous. You just nod. 

The situation is tense, and there's nothing you can do to defuse it except sit quietly and let Charles feel his feelings without judging him. You'd like to reach for his hand and squeeze it so he knows he's not alone. But you don't dare. The look on his face when you just touched his sweater-not even Charles per se-and the thought that you might be crossing a line burns into your brain. 

You interlace your fingers in your lap and look out the window.

Of course, you don't notice that Charles' gaze briefly falls on your hands and that he wishes he could take yours in his for a little comfort.

next part

[paradiseprincesss]

need a jonathan story where reader is bruce wayne's sister with similar morals about fixing gotham so she's a psychiatrist at arkham. her and jonathan butt heads a lot as she doesn't like how inhuman he is to his patients (he has a secret obsession with her). however she starts getting in the way of his plans and que the "this is where we make the medicine" scene. batman comes to save her and even though jonathan is high on fear he hears batman call reader his sister, so he plans to kidnap and/or blackmail the reader. Can be pure dark or dark with a change of heart?

love your work, but you already know that xoxo

all your fears are interwoven | jonathan crane

materlist

this is dark which i dont usually write so please...bare with me okay? IM SORRY IF THIS ISN'T GREAT LMFAO !! trying to write dark for u pookie <333

summary: you're a psychiatrist in the first year of your residency at arkham, working alongside doctor jonathan crane himself. however, you two are constantly butting heads due to your different beliefs in the treatment of your patients, amongst other things. one day, jonathan finds out that your the little sister of the batman himself - and he decides to act out on every sinister thought he's ever had about you.

word count: 3k

warnings: [NON-CON], 18+ mdni, smut, dark as hell, p in v, forced breeding, kidnapping, stalking, obsession, literally just all around terrible, terrible things

"it's inhumane," you argued, "no wonder your patients are terrified of you."

"because i don't feed into their delusions and paranoia?" jonathan scoffed, "i keep them medicated because they're mentally ill. if you haven't noticed, were in an asylum for the criminally insane."

"see, that the problem when it comes to you! you're not treating them like people, but rather prisoners." you sneer, rolling your eyes at his distasteful way of speaking about his patients.

for a moment, he's silent. he doesn't say a word, but you can tell you've hit a nerve with the way he physically reacts. his jaw is clenched, his eyes narrow at you, and he takes a short but sharp breath through his nose to try and appear composed.

"i have something i'd like you to see," he says calmly, "i think it'll help you understand my 'unorthodox' methods, as you like to call it."

you were a new grad from gotham university, specifically from their medical department. you'd graduated top of your class in medical school, and you'd matched in psychiatry for your residency. hence why you were working alongside doctor jonathan crane - the renown psychiatrist of gotham city himself.

when you first met him, he was cold towards you - and nothing changed. even a year into your residency, he was still cruel towards you. actually, that's a lie because he seemed to hate you even more than he did before. you two butted heads constantly over anything and everything under the sun. you thought he was heartless, but he thought you were too cynical. you believed his methods were 'unorthodox' as you liked to say, but he thought your methods were mind-numbingly boring. you two clashed in every possible way.

nobody liked working with him. you knew that already, though. it didn't take long for you to figure out why after you first started, as for starters, none of his employees hid their distaste towards him, and he didn't hide how much he disliked them back. he often called the other nurses, doctors, or medical professionals working there an array of insulting things, including but not limited to: imbecile, idiot, braindead, and painfully stupid. that was actually a few of the nicer things he called people - we don't talk about what he's called you.

you contemplated switching over to a different speciality because of jonathan crane many times, as working with him was exhausting. you still had three years of your residency and training left! how were you supposed to stand three more years with him? your brother, bruce wayne, always listened to you vent about jonathan - he didn't like him either. he always said that man was up to something, and he didn't know what but that it was bad news.

"are you incapable of forming a proper response, doctor wayne?" jonathan sneered, bringing you out of your thoughts, "you really are dense. the fucking lights are on but clearly no one's home."

"what are you, twelve?" you bark back, "i don't fucking-"

"i'm working on a new psychopharmacological drug," he cuts you off with a smirk, "i know, you're too stupid to understand anything about medication-"

"i went to the same medical school you did, jonathan." you retaliate, but he pays no mind to your words.

"like i said, i know you're too dumb to understand such complex specialities such as internal medicine and psychopharmacology, but i think it's something you'd benefit from learning about." he explained flatly.

as much as you wanted to punch him in his face, he had a point. you weren't dumb by any accounts, you were probably just as smart, if not smarter than him. however, as a training physician in her residency, it wouldn't be such a bad idea to get some hands on training in prescribing and dosages for mentally ill patients. it would help you in your career, to be fair.

"...fine," you huff, "tell me about it."

"this way, please." he says, ushering you to follow him into the elevator.

with annoyance, you follow him silently, not wanting to talk to him or give him any form of a verbal response at all. jonathan looked at you with a hunger in his eyes; unbeknownst to you, the brilliant but sociopathic psychiatrist had a deep, twisted, and disturbing obsession with you. he had your pictures plastered on the walls of his house. he knew where you lived as he'd broken in a few times unnoticed, and he knew pretty much everything about you - down to the smallest details.

for someone as brilliant as him, he had yet to figure out you were bruce wayne's sister, though. he knew your last name was wayne, but he didn't really put two and two together because he didn't expect you to be the sister of bruce wayne himself.

once you two reached the basement of the asylum, he led you through a series of dark, eerie hallways and you made note to shoot your brother a text about how crane was being extra strange and creepy at work today. in an attempt to slip away from jonathan, you clear your throat and try to come up with a feasible excuse.

"um, doctor crane," you say to him, your tone starting to become shaky, "i-i'm not feeling too well, i think i'm going to go back to my office to grab some advil."

the trembling of your voice doesn't go unnoticed by jonathan, and he knew that you knew where this was going. he grabs your arm harshly, and drags you through a door in which you're met with a distressing sight - multiple inmates of arkham mixing up chemicals in a makeshift lab, and pouring the liquids into what appeared to be a sewerage of some sort that seemed to leak into gotham city's plumbing and piping.

as your eyes were fixated on the scene in front of you, you failed to notice jonathan putting on his scarecrow mask and when you did - it was too late. a white, potent gas was sprayed in your face, and you immediately started to gag and cough on it as it felt like you were suffocating from the inside out. your lungs started to burn and your head was clouded, along with your vision.

"awe, having trouble?" he cooed as he grabbed you by the neck, choking you harshly.

before you could even formulate a response, a loud bang echoed in the lab. jonathan released his grip on your neck instantly, and though all your senses were disturbed, you could still articulate a few of his words through your current state. he said something about "the batman," and you knew that bruce was here to rescue you. internally, you thanked every higher power you could think of for having your brother come to your rescue.

not long after you heard jonathan say that, you looked up from the ground to see bruce with his hands gripped on jonathans face, his pale blue eyes widened and crazed. it appeared that bruce - the batman - had sprayed crane with whatever he had sprayed you with, and he was definitely seeing some shit while on his own drugs.

bruce's words were unintelligible at this point as you were just as drugged up as jonathan was, but you managed to hear jonathans voice meekly say something along the lines of "she's your sister?" bruce threw jonathan onto the ground, and the sound of police sirens could be heard in the background before your words were starting to become heavily slurred, and finally, your vision went black.

as your eyes fluttered open, you noticed that you were back inside of your own apartment. as your vision adjusted to the light, you noticed bruce calling your name softly as you sat up on your bed groggily.

"you're awake," he said quietly, coming over to sit on the edge of your bed, "how are you feeling?"

"what happened?" you ask as your head started to spin.

"long story," he sighed, "but i've been looking into crane for a while - all his experiments on his patients and such. it's inhumane, like you said, but it turns out he's been slowly trying to poison gotham city as a whole."

"what?" you say with surprise, "wait, i...what?"

"gordon had him arrested," he explained, "he had him locked up in arkham, but there was a mass escape. he's on the loose again."

everything that bruce was telling you was making you sick - what did he mean jonathan was just prowling around the city again?! with a deep breath, you look down and shake your head, tears welling in your eyes.

"i don't understand..." you whisper, and bruce reaches a hand out to your shoulder.

"i think you should stay at wayne manor for a while," he says softly, "it's safer for you there, i don't want you to be alone in your apartment."

"yeah, i think so too." you agreed.

"great," he says, "i'll grab us some food, and then we can start packing and head over to mine. sound good?"

"okay, can we get takeout from that chinese place i like?" you ask with a soft smile, and your brother nods.

"yeah, i'll go pick it up right now. do you think you'll be okay for about half an hour alone? maybe we should just head to mine first..." he says, looking at you with concern.

"bruce," you say softly, "i'll be okay. the sun is still out, it's like, mid-day still. don't worry."

it takes some convincing, but bruce eventually agrees and leaves to go pick up the takeout a few blocks down from your place. after a few minutes, you hear your door being unlocked. you get up from your bed inquisitively, unsure as to why bruce was back so soon. knowing him, he probably forgot his wallet or something. however, once you entered your living room, you were met with a sight that made your heart drop.

jonathan crane himself, standing there in your living room, with his scarecrow mask on. his unsettling but strikingly blue eyes met with yours as he looked at you through the small cutouts of his mask, and he smirked to himself.

"are you feeling alright?" he asked with a sickeningly sweet tone, "i'm sure my fear toxin had you feeling quite...disoriented."

you stagger backwards, gripping onto your bedroom doorframe as fear consumed you once more. you swallowed hard, and continued to backup as he stepped forward menacingly.

"m-my brother is going to be home soon." you whimper.

"oh, batman?" he chuckles lowly, his voice seemingly distorted with his mask, "i wouldn't be too sure of that, sweetheart. i thought i heard him say he was going to be at least half an hour."

your mind went stagnant as he told you that, and you wondered with panic on how he would know that information. jonathan seemed to have picked up on what you were thinking, as he took a step closer and lifted his wrist up to show that he had some sort of contraption that could gas you with his so called "fear toxin" at any given moment.

"you really are brainless, aren't you, sweetheart?" he cooed, "silly girl, i can't believe you didn't notice all the little cameras and recording devices i've been planting in your home."

"wh-what cameras?" you say as you felt tears run down your cheeks out of sheer panic and fear.

"i've been breaking in for months, i can't believe you haven't noticed," he snickered, getting closer and closer to you, "i want you so bad, sweetheart. and to think, i almost had you before the batman had to come and ruin things for me."

"please," you whimper, "don't...d-don't hurt me."

"don't give me a reason to." he shrugged, before lunging at you and pinning you against the wall with his hands wrapped around your neck. "it'll be easier if you don't struggle. otherwise, i might have to dose you with my medicine again."

"please, n-no-" you gasp, as his hands tightened around your neck.

"maybe i will, you look so beautiful when your fears are interweaving themselves with your reality. isn't the nightmare just to die for?" he asked dramatically, before throwing you onto your own bed harshly.

your lack of response must have set him off, though, because he decided to harshly grab at your hair. he cranked your head back so roughly that you could feel the strain in your neck, and you would rather he just strangulate you right now rather than put you through whatever he was about to.

"say you love it," he growled, "say you love me."

"f-fuck, no." you weakly whined, and he was lifting his other hand up before you started talking again, "i-i'm sorry, yes - i love you!"

you immediately rushed your words out, even if they were forced and untrue, because you really didn't want to be dosed with his fear toxin once more. the effects were worse than any fucked up nightmare you'd ever had.

"good girl," he cooed as he started to forcefully undress you, making you choke back a sob, "ugh, i can't wait to absolutely fucking ruin you."

the smell of his cologne flooded your senses, and you felt more tears drip down your face as he continued to undress you with zero resistance. you tried to tell yourself that maybe you were just having a nightmare, a side effect from the drugs - but you knew that wasn't true. bruce wouldn't be back for at least another half hour, giving jonathan free range to do whatever he wanted to you.

you had zoned out so deeply to cope that when you finally stopped dissociating, he was already fumbling with his belt buckle. as you tried to grab his wrist to force him away from you, the pressure from your hand accidentally triggered his wrist band to spray his fear toxin directly at you. you choked and sobbed as you heard him chuckle lowly through his mask, and at this point - you'd given up.

you stopped trying to fight it because it was no use. he had already won. his fear toxin was seeping into your every sense. the fears that were interwoven in your subconscious were now playing out right in front of you. it was like watching your worst nightmare, only fifty times worse, on repeat. at this point, you thought you were going to lose your sanity permanently.

jonathan had pulled your panties off of you with ease, as you were too high on the toxin to even understand what was going on in this very moment anymore.

the less you fought, the better.

with a groan, he forced himself into your cunt, breeching your hole painfully. obviously, there was a struggle because one, you weren't even in contact with reality right now and two, he was forcing himself onto you.

he spat down onto your cunt after a few moments, and that seemed to work. he let himself sink into you slowly, stretching you out painfully as you laid there in tears, unintelligibly whispering and pleading. he didn't bother to prep you or even try to make this enjoyable for you, since it was never really about you in the first place. it was about him; his pleasure and sick, disgusting, twisted obsession with you.

"fuck," he groaned, "you're so tight i think i might fucking break you, sweetheart."

he continued to fuck himself in and out of you, his length reaching places inside of you that shouldn't be reached. you couldn't tell which one was worse: the terrifying nightmares being fuelled in front of you or the pain in your lower region from his fat, veiny cock breaking your cunt in.

the tears never stopped, continuously pouring down your face as you tried to beg him to stop - but the words never came out. they couldn't. you were starting to feel every ounce of sanity you had left slip away from your body, leaving you in a permanent state of living hell.

"it's a concentrated - mm, f-fuck,- dose, my love. you're slipping away, i can feel it in the way your squeezing me." he groaned as he continued to split you open on his cock, rocking his hips back and forth as he held your waist still with an iron grip.

"s-stop." you weakly whispered, but he laughed lowly at the sad attempt.

you knew that you'd never recover from this, whether it be the assault or the effects of the fear toxin - both were things that would cause you to never live a normal life again.

"m'gonna take you away from here," he huffed, already close, "shit, you feel good- gonna fuck you every god damn day and fill you with my cum 'till you have my babies. keep giving you my cum over and over again."

that almost sounded worse than the disturbing, mind-rotting imagines that were flashing before your eyes right now from the toxin. you couldn't imagine a life that hellish - but you couldn't exactly object with the state you were in.

"don't worry," he says as he kept talking to you, "you're not going insane, sweetheart. fuck - like i said; it's a concentrated dose. you'll be back to your stuck up, whorish, braindead self in about twenty four hours."

twenty four hours? how were you suppose to survive for twenty four hours like this? how? you didn't know, but jonathan didn't seem to care. he did not care at all - all he cared about was kidnapping you and stuffing you full of his cum. all he craved for months was to give you his babies. get you nice and full, pregnant by him.

you didn't even notice when his hips stilled and his cum poured into your abused cunt, filling you with every drop he had. he let out a satisfied groan, and hesitantly, he pulled out.

you lay there as still as ever, tears still pouring down your face as you tried to remind yourself that the shadows, the whispers, and whatever other hellish things you were hallucinating were not real. jonathan then threw your pyajamas back on you in a hurry, and picked you up bridal style.

"c'mon," he says softly, as if he cared about you - as if you liked this, "let's go home."

my taglist (join here!): @girlinterrupted505 @ciriceimpera @jordyn-yeager @thevelvetvampyre @galactict3a

@xanaxiii @nocturnest @pennybee22 @bloodandglitter207 @humbuginmybones 

@oceanstem @futurefamousdeadmusician @jonathancraneslittlepet @dolleyednymphette @kpopgirlbtssvt 

@ll4n4 @ilovetoxicfictionalmen @the-buddy-things @ellebelleshelby @wiseyouthinfluencer 

@aprilsfrog05 @minedofmoria @strangeobsessed @5tud10-54r4h

[rubra-wav]

Hiya! I absolutely loved your posts about the HH main cast dealing with a sick reader and them being sick. You did a phenomenal job with them!

As for a request, what about Vox, hell’s resident bipedal tv, hc’s of him realizing he’s legitimately falling for reader?

Vox realises he has feelings for you

A/N : Thank you so much seriously!! 💛

Cw: SFW, gn!reader, suggestive comment at one point, angst-ish/ Vox coping

- It'll be a good long time before he realises he's fallen for you, and when he finally does, he's fully in it. There's no turning back and there's no backpedalling. He's absolutely whipped.

- It hits him one day like a train that he's actually in love with you all at once.

- He hung out with you the afternoon, and that night he's laying on his back with his phone gripped in his hand against his chest.

- It's been exactly 3 and a half hours since you were out together on a movie date at the VIP premiere. (as in in the ridiculously lavish movie room he had within Vee tower)

- He had been counting.

- You hadn't texted him back yet, and he was tapping his claw impatiently waiting for you to message him back with the world's biggest pout on his face.

- He'd already sent 4 texts, and none of them had been answered yet. He had to stop himself from sending more because he didn't want to seem too desperate. (Even though he was)

- He told himself he'd be mad that you had made him wait whenever you got back to him. He'd blow up over it.

- However, the second his phone buzzes and he sees the notification from you saying you had fun and were sorry you hadn't gotten back immediately it's like his dopamine receptors have been kicked into absolute overdrive.

- He's giddy. Warmth is flooding his chest, and he starts breathing heavier as the world's dorkiest smile spreads across his face.

- It isn't then that he realises exactly, but it's when you leave to go to sleep after texting him for a couple of hours with a flirtatious comment that has his head spinning and sparking.

- You were talking about how you'd washed your sheets that day and were making your bed. He acted like he was bored, and your next words absolutely took him out.

- "Fine. Next time, come over, and I'll spread you out on my bed then."

- When he calms down, it's messed up again as he's questioning himself.

- Why did I glitch out to them saying something that resembles a shitty pick-up line? Why did I count every minute that passed the second you went home? Why do I feel like I'm on drugs the second you pay me the slightest bit of attention.

- OH FUCK -

- He goes through all stages of grief as he realises he's in love with you in a single second and ends up causing a blackout in his bedroom in the process.

- When he roboots, he holds his head in his hands and chugs delulu juice instantly feels absolutely terrified.

- It's humiliating for him to have such delicate feelings, let alone for someone who surely doesn't feel the same way. His experiences with real, genuine romantic love for other people have hardly ended well.

- He likely tries to distance himself from you because he's scared of the fact he is so attached to you.

- It's been ages and ages of being attached to you but he's only fully realised - or at least fully acknowledged the extent of that attachment.

- His distance from you is shortly lived however as he craves you and your presence so badly he's disgusted at himself.

- He would not be the one to confess 9 times out of 10.

- Even if it's glaringly obvious you are also into him, he copes so fucking hard he's actually delusional with the excuses he makes about it.

- He basically friendzones HIMSELF.

- You could kiss him on the cheek or hold his hands in yours or cup his face lovingly and he would be there glitching while thinking about how you must just be like this with everyone else-

- He's charismatic, charming, and can often read everyone around him like an open book - analyse their behaviours, true intentions, expressions, thoughts under it all, etc.

- But he's so terribly stupid with love.

- You need to confess to him first most likely and he'll probably still think you're bullshitting him.

- Literally finds every reason of why you aren't in love with him and tries to twist everything that way.

- Even when he's in love, he wants it to be reciprocated obviously. The thought of it not being requited as he expects is embarrassing at best.

- But, he's genuinely probably even more terrified of what that means if you do love him back.

- It's easier if you don't love him back for him because he's scared of the way you might further bring out whatever imperfections and vulnerability he's shown you already after actually being in a relationship with you.

- He craves being in a relationship with you and the security you could bring him to expose those parts of himself he desperately conceals with masks resting on masks, but also its deeply unnerving to him simultaneously.

Infuriating watching the process of this man actually realising he's in love for real, honestly 😭

[ashtavula]

Royalty AU: Heartslabyul, Savanaclaw, and Octavinelle

This is going to provide a bit more lore for the au, as well as providing some information about what the rest of the boys are doing in this world!

Start Here

Your Kingdom:

-Your kingdom is known as the Kingdom of Sages, and its capital is the city of Ramshackle. As the heir to the throne, you reside in Night Raven Castle, along with your staff. You have Crowley, your tutor and advisor. Master Crewel is your personal healer. Trein is the steward of the castle. Sam is the castle's quartermaster, and Captain Vargas is the leader of your Royal Guard. There are also more maids, butlers, and cooks than you can count. Your parents also reside within the castle, but you don't often see them, due to their royal duties.

Heartslabyul:

Riddle:

-The Rosehearts manage the Heartslabyul march, which is a fairly large patch of land on the borders of your kingdom. However, only Marquess Rosehearts actually lives in the march. Marchioness Rosehearts and Riddle both reside in a rather lavish estate in Ramshackle. The family's investments in medical research have made them more wealthy than most others of their class, and plenty of nobles despise them for it.

-Riddle's mother is still extremely strict with him, but her motivations are a bit different here. The marchioness is fairly power hungry, and she wants social status more than anything. Thus, she's been raising Riddle to be the most suitable candidate for your hand in marriage. If you choose him, then she'll be the mother of your king consort, and that grants her more social standing than the rest of the aristocracy. Riddle, for what it's worth, is hesitant to actually court you because of that. He's aware of what she's like, and he doesn't want to subject you to her whims.

Trey:

-He's recently taken over for the Four Leaf Bakery, which is the most popular sweet shop in Ramshackle. His mother, father, and siblings are still helping out, but his parents are trying to make sure that he knows how to run things properly before they get too old. Trey likes to think that people come to the bakery because of how good his treats taste, but honestly, people also come to see him. He's polite, hard working, and sweeter than a slice of his bakery's famous strawberry tarts. Swing by the shop, won't you? He'll make sure to whip up your favorites.

Cater:

-Cater works for the capital's best selling newspaper, the Ramshackle Gazette. He's always busy writing new articles, and interviewing people. Pretty much everyone recognizes his charming smile, and his news stories are always plastered on the front page. Secretly, he finds all the running around to be more than a little tiring, but he wouldn't trade his job for the world. You've spotted him prowling around the gates of your castle recently, hoping to snag an exclusive interview with you. After all, putting your words to paper will make him even more popular.

Ace:

-Ace works as a delivery boy, making sure people receive their packages and other sundries. He's often paired up with Deuce, who works for the same company. Ace ends up running around all over the capital, and he usually complains about having to do so. Honestly though, he's not sure what he'd rather do in life. He enjoys doing little magic shows, but being a street busker isn't a steady job, and his mother would yell at him for doing it. One day, he might figure out his life's purpose. But that day isn't today, he thinks, as yet another bundle of mail is shoved into his hands.

Deuce:

-He also works as a delivery boy, but he gets a few more benefits, since his mother is the one who runs the office. Unlike Ace, Deuce does like the job. He gets to wander all over the city, and meet interesting people. But he wants to be a knight, deep down inside. He grew up hearing stories about valiant knights protecting delicate princesses, and he's been enamored with the idea ever since. Still, his mother always says he should keep his head out of the clouds. So he'll work hard to make her happy.

Savanaclaw:

Leona:

-He's still the second prince of Sunset Savannah, and he still resents his place in life. However, Falena is doing what he can to further diminish Leona's political power by planting rumors and stirring up their citizens. Leona is intelligent, bitter, and ambitious. Three traits that make him a rival for the throne, despite the birth of Falena's son, Cheka. The best way to get rid of Leona is to marry him off to someone outside of their country, where he won't pose as much of a problem. Falena doesn't quite like the idea of Leona becoming your king consort, but it's better than letting him continue to stay. Besides, if you marry his brother, then your country will be more open to diplomacy, and trade. And that's what's driving Falena to push Leona your way.

-As for Leona himself, he's heard about your search, but he isn't all that interested in going to see you. He's not keen on the idea of actually courting you, because he's aware of what Falena is attempting to do. Besides, he doesn't want to end up playing second fiddle to a spouse that won't take his advice, or let him rule beside them. Although, he has to admit that he's a bit curious as to what you're actually like. And who knows? Play your cards right, and you might just be able to snag his full attention.

Ruggie:

-Cleaning, cooking, washing clothes, scrubbing floors, he does it all. Ruggie is a personal attendant for Leona, and that means doing whatever the prince demands of him. It's tough, and he almost never has time for a break, but it's not all bad. Normally, Leona would have a small fleet of servants, but thanks to Falena's efforts, Ruggie is pretty much his only servant. Despite that, Ruggie is proud to serve Leona. The prince pays well enough for Ruggie to feed his family, and that's what matters most. And, if Leona marries you, hopefully the man will remember who actually took care of him.

Jack:

-Jack serves as a personal guard for Leona. Admittedly, Jack isn't sure how he ended up being the one to guard the prince. Protecting the royal family is usually a task only given to the very best of the royal guards, but Jack is still a fresh faced recruit. Still, he takes his job very seriously. He's never too far from Leona, and he's constantly scanning his surroundings. Once he hears the news about your search, his mind instantly goes to his prince. He sincerely hopes that, if you marry Leona, you'll let him continue to protect the man who's earned his steadfast loyalty.

Octavinelle:

Azul:

-His mother owns what is, beyond a shadow of a doubt, one of the most famous restaurants in your kingdom. Even your own parents have been there, and loved every dish she presented. Azul, however, wasn't satisfied with just helping her run the family business. He set his sights higher, and managed to open his information agency with the help of the Leech family. It's worth knowing that, despite Azul's wealth and connections, his reputation isn't the best. Sure, he always delivers exactly what you asked for, but many people have figured out firsthand why you should always read the fine print.

-As for his reasons for courting you, he claims that it's all about the power he'll gain from winning your hand. And he's not exactly lying about that. But he's also a romantic, deep down. He's always wanted a fairytale romance, and he sees the opportunity to have that with you. He sighs, already dreaming about the tales people will tell about how the heir to the throne fell deeply in love with a common octopus mer. Floyd and Jade are already teasing him for how often he's practiced writing "King Consort Azul" on the margins of his papers.

Jade:

-Jade is one half of Azul's "eyes and ears." Literally. When they first started helping Azul with the Octavinelle Agency, the twins struck a deal with Azul. Now, Azul is capable of seeing and hearing the same things as them, to an extent. As for your search for a husband, he's extremely curious to see who you'll select. After all, it might be fun for him and his brother to have royal backing for their antics. Or, it might be even more amusing to watch you fall for someone else, and crush Azul's hopes and dreams.

Floyd:

-Right now, he's bouncing between eagerly listening for news on your search, and getting irritated at you because it's all anyone's talking about. Honestly, it's so much fuss! He sometimes entertains the idea of trying to woo you himself, just to see the looks on everyone's faces. But Azul's quick to remind him that meeting you is going to be a big deal, so he needs to be on his best behavior. That sounds so boring! He'd rather see how cute you'd look if he gave you a little squeeze. You won't mind, right?

[hazbin-a-helluvamagines]

Hey, can you do Emily, Charlie, and Verosika mayday x male!reader who was abused to death by his step father (reader is 20), reader is traumatized and depressed and is scared of men’s?

"Androphobia" ; Charlie Morningstar, Emily, Verosika Mayday

She feels utterly horrible hearing about the way you died! She has such a loving relationship with her dad, at least now, she hates the thought of someone going through something like that from someone who was meant to protect and care for them!

She's one of the most understanding of depression and trauma, but kind of a pushover about it, actually?

She'll try and reacclimate you to men starting with Angel, someone fairly androgynous, and Lucifer, seeing how generally polite and timid Luci usually is.

But she makes sure to always tell you that she'll be patient!

"Don't worry, S/O, if you're not okay yet! Sometimes, it's okay not to be okay... You have to feel it to let it run its course."

She'll let you hide behind her if you're ever frightened of the men around, too. After all, who would mess with the Princess of Hell's boyfriend?

She also puts this really intricate and overexplained sign on the door that tells people: "If you're a male or masc-presenting, please do not enter this room because this resident has trauma".

She'll take it down if you ask, though.

Like Charlie, Emily is utterly horrified. But unlike Charlie, she's also disgusted. Disgusted that someone you were meant to depend on could treat you like that!

She's quick to, if that person is deceased, either find them and punish them personally, or have Sera cast them down to Hell.

Yet again, super understanding of trauma and everything! Will have an entire discussion with you over boundaries, discomforts and triggers, things that make you feel comfortable after you've been triggered, etc.!

And she won't try to "make" you heal, she understands that these things take time, and with enough time, you'll start to heal all on your own...

She'll also use her wings to shield you from any men who may approach, but still be polite to the person if they weren't trying to be malicious.

"Hiya! Oh, my boyfriend? Don't mind him, he's just a little frightened. And speaking of which, I'd appreciate if you'd be able to turn around and maybe come back later when he isn't around so you don't scare him more! Please and thank you."

Speaking of, she'll also let you mess with her wings whenever you're getting anxious, trying to keep you distracted.

She's also going to politely tell anyone who makes you uncomfortable to back off, and won't honestly get more angry unless they refuse to back off. She hates anyone making someone uncomfortable, but especially you.

And she's also probably the most patient person in the world.

"Don't worry, S/O! Take all the time you need. Eden wasn't built in a day, you know? And I'll be here every step of the way. You can count on that."

Marry her.

She is... an utter bitch to literally everyone who makes you even the smallest amount of uncomfortable, even unintentionally.

"Excuse me? Who said you were wanted here? Can't you see there's someone infinitely more important to spend time with?"

I'd honestly be surprised if she doesn't make someone cry doing that.

She'll also make sure to give you special seats with either all-women, or by yourself at all of her events and concerts, just so she doesn't risk you having a panic attack while she isn't there to help you.

She'll try to acclimate you with the men of her crew, but aside from that, she doesn't really mind if you want to get along with other men or not.

She's also one who's surprisingly attentive to depression, always making sure you take your meds if you need them, managing you with a proper diet, and trying to help you sleep at times.

Whenever you have to go anywhere in public, she'll either go with you or have Coco, Milky, Apple, or Kiki go with you.

Like Emily, she'll shield you with her wings if she sees a man approach when she's out with you, that way you don't have to interact with them.

And if they comment on it?

"Why's your boyfriend hiding behind his bitch?"

"Why are you still a virgin living in your mom's basement at forty-five?"

Yeah...

Well, at least she cares. :')

[abrcmswrld]

Talk to Strangers

Edward Nashton x Coworker! Reader

━━━━

Word Count: 4,951

Warnings: smut (18+ only MDNI), stalking, unprotected sex, angst and fluff and smut, a decent bit of tears, obligatory mentions of murder

Summary: You’ve warmed up to Edward despite his cold nature, but what happens when the puzzle pieces start to fall together and you can feel someone watching you in the darkness?

Authors Note: I actually tried so hard on this yall, I posted this to my ao3 page first so I am sorry if the formatting is all kinds of messed up on here :( This is my first fic i’ve posted since 2017 so I sincerely apologize if it’s meh, i also don’t have anyone else proofread my fics so i apologize for any errors i missed! enjoy!

Ao3 Link

He's arrogant. Oh so arrogant, and you can't fucking stand it. You watch him every morning as he strides in, past your desk at reception, white button up shirt, clear framed glasses, shaggy hair that falls over his forehead . He's certainly not a hit among the office, so maybe you're not wrong in your feelings. Though your other co-workers generally regard him as a pushover- not a self-absorbed asshole. He's good at what he does, sure. He's earned his spot, but he often brings a shadow into the rooms he walks into. A presence that you can only describe as infernal.

You don’t know much about his story. You generally pride yourself on getting to know the people you surround yourself with, but he has never let you get close enough to find out. Maybe that’s why you find him arrogant. He thinks he’s too good to speak to you for more than two sentences related to files he needs you to fax for him. What you do know about him is that he’s been at KTMJ for longer than you have been- maybe 5 years more. You can still remember the first time you met. You were fresh faced and eager. Seeking validation, in desperate need of some stability.

You extend your arm for a handshake. His hands are slightly clammy as he accepts your handshake. And though you had greeted him with your brightest smile (might as well go all in if you ever wanted to be anything other than a receptionist) he hadn't smiled back. He'd kept a rather straight face as he gave his brief introduction. "Edward."

Now you have a sense of stability. Sure, the quality of life in Gotham is subpar and you still haven't received that promotion, but you make enough to live comfortably in comparison to others in the city. You try to count your blessings.

━━━━

You had already been having a shitty day. Your landlord had informed you of an increase in rent rates by slipping an envelope under your door. Sure, it sucked to be asked to pay more for an apartment that could be deemed shitty by any normal person with a pair of eyes, but it was the lack of communication that got you. Not even the decency to call your residence and tell you with their own voice. Just a slip of paper under the door.

But you tried to bring a good attitude to the office. You hate being the one to damper the mood. You would rather leave that to him. Always him. Never smiling back at you as he walks through the door, never meeting your eyes to acknowledge your presence, nothing. And you were used to that. It would be okay, if it weren't for the stack of papers that laid on your desk when you got in. Neatly stacked with a green sticky note reading "Need copies. -Edward" scrawled in messy handwriting. You immediately feel the flames rise into your chest.

It's a quick stride from your desk to his cubicle, stack of papers tightly tucked into your fist. You slam them onto his desk as soon as you reach it, and he raises an eyebrow at you in response. "What the hell is this?" He glances at the papers and back at you. "The copier isn't working. I wrote what I needed." You sigh, annoyed at the fact that he doesn't understand.

"You couldn't have waited for me to get here and brought them to me yourself? I would really appreciate it if you would treat me like a human being every once in a while, ya know, actually acknowledge my existence." You realize how dramatic you must sound, but in all honesty you've been thinking it for years, it was only a matter of time before it came out. "I needed copies. I didn't think my acknowledgement meant that much to you." He holds his hands out in defense, feigning that he actually cared if he had hurt your feelings.

"I think you think you're smarter than everyone else here." You plant a hand on the table in front of him as you crouch to his level.

He sighs and you can see the corners of his mouth twitch. "I do. Is that so bad?"

"It makes you an asshole."

He finally faces you.

"Better to be an asshole than to be an idiot."

His voice doesn't carry any malice, yet the words feel like a slap in the face to you. It leaves you scrambling for a response, opening your mouth only to close it a second later. Until you decide to merely respond with a nervous chuckle. Sure, you thought his response showed his ego, but you had to admit. He got you. He faces you once more at the sound of your light chuckle, green eyes meeting yours completely. "I guess you're right."

You catch the corners of his mouth turning upwards.

"If it means that much to you, I will greet you next time."

━━━━

And he does. Greet you that is. You find yourself talking to him more and more. Sitting in the break room with him at lunch, looking over his shoulder at the crossword puzzle he works on at his desk and giving your best shot at an answer, relishing in the furrow of his brows as he turns to look over his shoulder at you. He's an asshole. He's arrogant. But there's something about him that's drawing you in. Sometimes you feel like a fish caught in a net. All those moments he'd brushed you off and yet you find yourself repeating the little quirks of his soft smiles in your head. You hate the term "work husband", but it seems that Edward is slowly becoming the very definition of that.

You don't speak outside of the office, but you find yourself gravitating towards him when you're stressed. You tell him about your landlord and the reason you had gotten so defensive with him. He understood.

"It's a cesspool here. None of these people actually care about people like us, not the landlords, not our coworkers, certainly not the politicians." He had said in that moment.

As October rolls around and the leaves begin to fall, you find yourself beginning to bring two coffees to work, one for you, one for him. He always shows an appreciative nod. But the moment you start to think about asking him to actually go out with you for coffee is like being the fish pulled out of the water and accepting it's inevitable fate. You were gonna let him drive you insane.

You're sure of it as you are caught up in the nerves and find yourself softly grabbing his hand to stop him outside the front doors of the office. You quickly pull your hand from his. no doubt blushed a deep red. But he just stares, waiting for you to speak. You clear your throat. "I- um- Sorry, I was just gonna see if you had plans now." And it pains you the way he doesn't speak, just continues to stare.

"There's a diner on the corner near here. I think they have decent pie."

He loosens the tension in his shoulders and looks down. "Oh. I'm actually sort of drowning in... paperwork right now." He shifts his weight from one foot to the other, clearly uncomfortable. God, you hoped you hadn't made him uncomfortable. "I'm sorry."

You quickly shake your head and let out a breathy laugh. "Oh no! It's totally fine, I probably have paperwork to finish too." You hope it hides the pang you feel in your chest. "I'll see you tomorrow." You swiftly turn and walk away before he can respond.

━━━━

But you wouldn't see Edward tomorrow. Matter of fact you wouldn't see him for the next three days after Halloween. You try not to let it bother you.

It's the beginning of a cold November, he's probably just sick or desperately needed a vacation. Or perhaps you'd seriously fucked it all up and he couldn't even stand the sight of you. You can't stop the deep sigh that comes from you as you rest your forehead in the palm of your hand. Embarrassingly, you ask Zach if he's heard from Edward. Not that you expected him to be particularly helpful. "Are you guys, like, fucking?" You are stunned and stammering your words. "Wha- No! No. I just worry about him."

"Look, I wouldn't worry about him too much, I mean the guy's basically a fucking recluse. When do you ever see him outside of here? Maybe it's good that he's somewhere besides here."

Still, there's no chance of you actually focusing on work and you find yourself aimlessly scrolling through news headlines, before one in particular catches your eye.

'Mayoral Incumbent Donald Mitchell, Jr. Murdered in his Home on Halloween Night.'

Holy shit.

━━━━

Edward is back at work after three long days, and despite your worry of his annoyance and anger, he is oddly elated.

It's the first time he approaches your desk. Leaning against it, coffee cup in hand, and flashing an awkward smile before asking, "So did I miss anything?" It leaves you a little taken aback, but it's a relief to see him approach you willingly after your last conversation.

"Um yeah, Zach was a total prick as usual- Oh! And our mayor was murdered."

He raises an eyebrow and takes a sip from the coffee cup. You feign annoyance, "No but seriously where were you? I started to wonder if that psychopath got you too."

He smiles. "Just sick. November weather and all."

━━━━

The first time you see the green mask you are in a huddle of coworkers around a computer screen.

'Police Commissioner, Pete Savage, Murdered. Killer Leaves Shocking Confession.'

"My God. What a sick freak." Zach interjects.

You can barely stand to watch. The video is hardly graphic aside from the disturbing voice of the masked man, but the implications of what happens when the video cuts off leaves your stomach turning. You walk away. Desperate for some space, but also desperate for a distraction. Edward sits straight in his office chair across the room. You hesitate slightly before striding toward his desk and leaning your weight against it. You can feel the sweat beading at your forehead as you lightly brush hair from your eyes. "Shit."

It's merely a whisper to yourself, but he turns his head to face you. For once his face shows concern towards you. Yet he still says nothing, only looks. Observant as always.

"Sorry. I needed to get out of that." You gesture towards the group of coworkers still huddled and murmuring among each other. He glanced back, before turning back towards his work. "The news?" He inquires quietly.

"Yeah. It's a little too much for me to stomach." There's a little pause as if he is hesitant to say anything before finally replying, "They were pricks. Don't you think they kind of deserved it?"

You straighten up, looking at him with shock. "I think they were still people with families." He frowns at you before you finally walk away from his desk to make your way to the restroom. You needed to get a grip.

━━━━

Edward apologizes for his insensitivity after work. You had stayed with him outside of the building long after all of your other coworkers had left. "It's fine." You refuse to look at him as he lights a cigarette and gets in a few quick puffs. You're being mean. But if you're honest the combination of his rejection and his comment earlier in the day had set you off. "And I'm sorry for last week." Only then you look up at him.

"I've had a lot going on, and it feels a little unfair to bring you into all of that."

"This feels like an excuse to let me down easy. It's okay if you just don't want to go on a date-"

The feeling of chapped lips on your own stops you mid sentence. He tastes of coffee and cigarettes and you crave more, but he pulls back quickly. His free hand remains at your cheek, holding your face in a gentle caress. "It's not an excuse. Things are just complicated for me right now." His eyes never leave your face. It's the best look you've gotten of them. Of him. His features are gentle behind shaggy hair and acetate glasses.

Something feels wrong and eerie in the back of your mind. Like seeing him this close gave you a sickening feeling of deja vu. Things were definitely complicated. The bags under his eyes were showing his exhaustion well, he had gone from elated to unwell since his return. He seems like a broken man, but he'd never let you close enough to find out why. You can't help but feel the connection, like he deserved a shot even if he didn't want it. Even if he thought he was smarter. Even if there's a side to him that could hurt you. You push down your feelings of uneasiness.

You press a chaste kiss to the corner of his lips.

"When you're ready."

━━━━

You're awake nearly all night the next weekend. Spending the entire time digging through news about the figure known as The Riddler, his possible next targets, possible identities, and most importantly all of the video footage he'd put out in the last few weeks. It's certainly not healthy. You generally steer clear of these sorts of things. Years of therapy had gotten you far and you would rather not ruin it by desensitizing yourself. But you can't help it. You find yourself going deeper and deeper into the rabbit hole until you find yourself tuning into his streams late at night.

He speaks with such a confidence in himself. As if he has all of the answers, and is just waiting to enlighten the world. His followers are even more terrifying. They'd do anything for him. You wonder how low a person must be in life to resort to this sort of behavior. But, you're not a psychiatrist. Who are you to speak on these people. These strangers.

"We are going to cleanse this cesspool of city."

You slam the laptop shut.

Sleeping isn't easy after this sort of activity. You should've known. You turn on a show you don't actually care about to give yourself some sense of security in background noise. And soon you find yourself drifting asleep. It's not great sleep. You can sense yourself tossing and turning, but you can deal with it. Everything is fuzzy until you find yourself on your back.

Paralyzed.

It's not uncommon for you to experience sleep paralysis, but you've experienced it less after your time in therapy. You try to keep your breathing steady, trying to convince yourself that whatever you see is merely a hallucination.

Shh. Shh. Just breathe.

But the figure that appears is familiar. That's what scares you the most. The green coat and mask is horrifying as it inches towards the bed, and you can't scream. you can't move away. You can only watch the blood drip from his gloved fingertips onto your floor as he stares. Tilting his head at you slightly, as he brings a hand up to his head. You can hear your heart pounding and you are practically internally begging yourself to wake up. The latches on his mask pop open and you're horrified to find that the face underneath is so familiar. A slight smirk on lips you have kissed before. Blood dripping from a hand that you've held before. You try to scream. Tears falling down your temples until he is suddenly gone and you shoot up in your bed.

You can't hold back the cry that escapes your throat. It wasn't real, he's gone, and you're safe in your room.

━━━━

Until suddenly the safety of your room begins to feel a lot less safe. You hear it. The creaking of the floorboards at night, the slight tapping against the glass of your bedroom window. The slight squeak of leather rubbing and rustling together. You're too scared to open your eyes those first few nights. You'd rather be blind and take your fate than die in paralyzing fear.

But you know it's him.

It was never unclear what was staring at you in the night. Maybe the nightmares of the leather gloves touching your skin hadn't been nightmares at all. You want so badly to be sickened. To run into your bathroom to empty your stomach out of panic and fear. Instead you feel a strange mixture of annoyance and arousal in your gut.

He thinks he's smarter than you.

You find yourself playing into his games.Attempting to one up him. To show him you aren't scared of him. That you can keep up. You begin to deliberately change in front of your window. Letting lacy fabric hit the cold floor and standing just a tad longer, stalling before covering yourself back up.

You hope he's watching when you peel off your work tights. You hope he's imagining himself on his knees tearing the delicate fabric from your form, only to be blocked by a thin pane of glass. You wanted the upper hand.

You hope he's watching as you sink two fingers into yourself, thinking about crisp, white button ups and clear framed glasses.

━━━━

The next few weeks are tense at work. You heard the news of what happened to Gil Colson at Don Mitchell's funeral. Edward would walk in everyday, and attempt to greet you, only this time it's you who is short. You have a little hope that he can't see straight through you. But you can see it in the way that he looks at you that you're an open book. Who's to say that he won't just watch, but actually kill you to keep you from talking. But deep down you both know your lips are shut tight.

So you work through the days, just ready to get home. You can hardly stand to look at him. It makes you feel like you're an accomplice. A sitting duck for a man who probably doesn't even care about you, withholding a tip to the police because deep down you really do like him. And you had hoped he liked you too until things got complicated. Now you think it would just be best if he abandoned you right where you were. But he doesn't. In fact, he suddenly has more courage than you'd ever seen from him. It's evident as he catches you by your arm and pulls you into the alleyway beside the office after work is over. It's dark and you'd be lying if you said you weren't scared, but he kisses you like nothing is wrong. Like he has no clue. Like nothing has changed.

You pull away from him, wide eyes staring back at him. "Are you okay?" He asks quietly as he brushes a hand up your arm. You can't help the break in your voice. "I know, Edward."

He just stands and stares. "What?" You take two steps back. "You're killing people." He continues to stare. He drops his hand from your arm. The silence scares you more than anything. But he simply sighs.

"I think you should go home and get some rest."

And before you can argue he walks away with a quickened pace.

━━━━

So you do. You return to your shitty apartment and try to compose yourself. What would he do now that you said that? Maybe you were wrong. Maybe you had accused him of something he genuinely didn't do. But it didn't feel wrong. You sigh as the hot water hits your back. You had hoped a shower would help you feel refreshed, but for the first time in a while, it feels like a chore. You can't enjoy it, so you rush through it. As you step into your bedroom you stop in your tracks. The window is slightly ajar, a cool draft flowing in tingles your bare legs. And then you see him. The figure in the darkness of your room. This time you're not dreaming.

He's in your room. You're paralyzed. The position you swore you'd never let yourself be put in. He's got the upper hand.

He just stands there. A part of you wishes he would attack you. Kill you. Anything just to break the still silence. You realize you're shaking. You agreed to play his game and now you're trailing his lead, allowing yourself to be beaten.

"Edward."

It comes out as a shaky whisper, but he visibly takes it in as he steps toward you to close the distance. You can see his eyes crinkle at the corners through the green mask. He's smiling. And he reaches a gloved hand to your face, cupping one cheek. You can feel the warmth radiating from his hand even through the glove. So, he is human. The Riddler has a beating heart and flowing blood. He is not a cold, lifeless monster. His stoic frame you had become so familiar with at work was gone. He catches a tear from your cheek with his thumb.

He is terrifying.

"No more through the window. I'll be gone soon."

Before you can entirely comprehend the statement and it's implications, your brain forms the word that leaves your mouth. "Gone?"

He simply smiles again, this time reaching his hands behind his head to abandon the mask he had come in with, and there he is. Cherubic features glowing under the street lamp light that flows in from your window. "I watched you live for a month. I watched you eat, sleep, undress, touch yourself. But you knew that right? Otherwise you wouldn't have put on such a show."

You attempt to struggle away from his grasp in disgust at his words but he holds you tight in front of him. "But that's alright. I'll tell you the truth because I hate liars. I liked knowing that you were doing it all for me. I wanted nothing more than to cleanse Gotham, to give them true salvation, but you put a dent into that plan. You became a distraction that I foolishly indulged." The soft light is hitting his features just right. He looks like an angel in devils' clothing. And his tight grip is right back to a gentle caress. His hand reaches the small of your back and you're sucking in a shrill breath.

His kiss is soft, inexperienced. Much like the other times you had kissed. But he is treating you like glass that might break. You think it might be the first time you've seen him relax enough to be seen as a particularly gentle being. He's ditched his looming, arrogant behavior you're so used to just to show you his utmost affection. It's the first time you have seen him like this since the first time you had kissed.

But some part of you is burning. He's not your prince charming. You know exactly what he is capable of, you've seen it. You're not glass. You're not a damsel. This is a man who has watched you undress for him through your window for weeks. This is a man who has killed. And it shouldn't bring heat into your core the way it does. Perhaps it's the thrill of the danger.

You kiss him so hard that your teeth clash. It stuns him as his hand lifts from your body momentarily before finding purchase at your hips. He's inexperienced, but the desperation coming from both of you is enough to cover it up.

The warmth and weight of his tongue in your mouth is intoxicating. The little sparks of guilt and shame that flash in your stomach are quickly subdued by his nimble fingers caressing under your nightgown and up your thighs to hook in the waistband of your panties. You can't help the pathetic moan that escaped your mouth as he slowly drags the fabric down your legs.

"I wanted to do it right. Wanted to take you to that diner, buy your food, take you home, and act like I hadn't thought about fucking you into your mattress every single night."

It's almost strange to see him on his knees. He has built himself up to be godlike. You were sure he wouldn't mind you on your knees in front of him. Absolutely worshipping him. The warmth of his tongue swiping over you has your thoughts lurching, and yes, god, he is divine.

"But it would be wrong to pretend to be someone I am not. I'm not a liar."

You can't help but tangle your fingers into his beautifully unkept hair and pull. He is ravishing you. Sinking two fingers into you until you feel the heavenly curl right into the spot that makes you whimper. "Eddie-" He swallows your moans in a desperate openmouthed kiss. His fingers are working you open, you can feel tightness build in your stomach. Like a rubber band ready to snap. But it's ripped away from you as he pulls his fingers out of you and swiftly pushes you to the bed. The sounds of his belt buckle coming undone has your heart racing faster than it already was, your stomach fluttering.

He buries himself inside of you with no hesitation, no time to adjust. It hurts and his inexperience is noticeable, but the look of bliss on his face and his slight whimpers has you ready to cum before you've even started.

You're gripping onto the back of the green leather parka, reminding yourself of who you're with. Who you're letting fuck you right now. But those green eyes bring you back to all those times he'd flash a slight smile your way in the office. He'd try to hide it but you're the only person he showed fondness towards in that hell hole of a workplace. Thinking back to the night he had kissed you has tears welling up in your eyes again. He notices.

He slows his pace momentarily, letting his short thrusts turn into long drags. A gloved hand wipes tears away once again and you meet his concerned gaze.

"Does this not make you happy?"

Your hands move to cradle his face. A move that he's certainly not used to as his thrust halt for a moment in surprise. "I am happy. But what comes after this? Am I supposed to ignore you and pretend I know nothing about you? That I feel nothing for you?" He stops his movements completely now. The room has fallen silent apart from the heavy breathing between you two.

"I have to mean nothing to you. Momentarily."

You knew the answer before you asked the question, but it hurts just as bad anyway. You don't take your eyes off his. The Riddler's facade is cracking before your eyes, you can see his eyes becoming glossy. It's almost like he's turned into a completely different person. He kisses you. Deeply, but not rough. There's so much pent up feeling behind it, you could sob even harder. But you don't and he keeps kissing you as he resumes his movements.

You're not using any protection, but you're too blissed out to care. You crave that feeling of warmth. "Eddie- I-"

His hips start to stutter as he cuts you off and buries his face in your neck. " I love you- please God- just say it back to me. Tell me you love me." You hold his face in your hands guiding his gaze to meet yours again. "Edward, I love you."

That's all it takes for him to fall apart. His whimpers and cries are like music to your ears and the feeling of warmth as he releases everything he has into you is blissful. You both have to take a second to recover, foreheads pressed together. But eventually he rolls off of you carefully and tucks himself back into his pants. The silence is deafening. You said it to push him over the edge, but was it true that you loved him? The idea of falling in love with Edward was easy in your mind, in a perfect world the idea of settling down somewhere else and waking up next to him felt good. But this wasn't a perfect world. Edward killed people, powerful people, and the chance that he'd get away without paying for it was slim.

"I'm gonna turn myself in in a couple of days."

"Okay."

"You should leave Gotham. It's not going to be safe for you here. If the cops ask you're visiting a friend in Bludhaven."

His hand grips yours as he looks at you.

"I promise if I ever get out, I'll find you."

━━━━

You do as he asked of you. Got a hotel in Bludhaven and in the next couple of nights you watched the television endlessly, waiting to see his face. The night you finally did, you cried yourself to sleep, gripping the hotel sheets as you buried your face into your pillow.

But you held yourself together and did as Edward asked.

When the man in the bat suit showed up at your hotel door a week after the flood you give your best answers.

"I'm visiting a friend, but the flood has kept me in town."

"No, I didn't know him well, we just worked together."

"I mean he was a little strange, but I never thought he would murder someone."

“I would never have expected it to be him.”

"I hope he gets the help he needs."

[indigovigilance]

Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop

Credit to @flameraven for scripts

Read on Ao3 at: Sovereignty, Citizenship, and the Bookshop (1702 words) by indigovigilance Summary: The rules regarding who may enter the bookshop, and who may give others permission to enter the bookshop, are revealed by events rather than exposition. Parallel themes surround the Bentley. In this meta I generate a theory of sovereignty and citizenship as it pertains to the Bookshop, and what that implies about a statement Crowley makes and Aziraphale's final decision in S2E6.

What actually is the Bookshop?

First, Aziraphale explains to Crowley:

S2E5: AZIRAPHALE: We're perfectly safe in here. Technically, this bookshop still counts as an Embassy.

But then, speaking to Shax, Aziraphale further defines the bookshop:

AZIRAPHALE: Out of the question. Might I remind you, that this bookshop is technically an independent embassy. Being a former outpost of Heaven, and as such…

Which doesn't actually make any sense.

An embassy, by definition, is a satellite of another larger nation. It is usually the residence of an ambassador, and is considered the "soil" and jurisdiction of the home country, regardless of where it is in the world: "An embassy is considered “foreign soil,” meaning that it operates under the jurisdiction and laws of the home country, not the host country (the country where the embassy is physically located)." [ext source]

So an embassy, by its basic definition, cannot be independent. It's an oxymoron. I'll interpret this to mean that the Bookshop constitutes its own nationstate (and that Aziraphale just doesn't say it that way because he's a funky little guy).

Bookshop: A Sovereign Nation of Two

There has been extensive discussion about why Crowley seems never to have told Aziraphale that he was living in his car, and why, if/when Aziraphale figured it out, he didn't say anything about it. (I wrote a meta discussing how we know that Aziraphale knows by the beginning of S2E4 that Crowley is living in his car. Additionally, in S2E6, Aziraphale doesn't seem to look particularly surprised when Crowley announces to the room that he's tired of living in his car; you can interpret this as being distracted and phased out but I don't think Aziraphale is ever so dissociated that he would miss a statement like that and simply not react. So by then, he certainly knows.)

I posit that Crowley did not ask to move in and would have refused to do so even if offered for one very simple reason: moving in would have made him a citizen of Bookshop, and therefore a point of vulnerability for Aziraphale. Because as he explains to Shax in S2E3, he can't technically invite her in:

SHAX: if you won't let me in… CROWLEY: Not technically something I can do.

Of course, Crowley is a demon: he could be lying. But let's take the statement at face value, since Shax, also a demon, who seems reasonably familiar with the rules of entry, doesn't question it. So Crowley, by never establishing citizenship, ensures that he can never be coerced or tricked into letting anyone into the Bookshop. He maintains his foreign entity status on purpose to protect Aziraphale.

One more note, in passing: Crowley stays at the shop in S2E3 and S2E4, but he has been charged by Aziraphale to "mind the bookshop, and Gabriel." His role is more akin to a house-sitter than a houseguest. He's there on work visa, and it does not establish citizenship.

So Crowley isn't a citizen of Bookshop. But someone other than Aziraphale is.

S2E1: MAGGIE: I can be out of here in two weeks. AZIRAPHALE: Out of here? Why? Don't you like it anymore? MAGGIE: Oh, Mr. Fell, I love this shop! I've loved it since I was a baby. But I know how behind I am on rent. (…) MAGGIE: You can't just forgive me eight months' rent. AZIRAPHALE: Oh, I can. I'm very good at forgiveness. It's one of my favorite things. Now, you have paid your rent, I have my music, and I know exactly what I'll be doing for the next 21 minutes. [he giggles and leaves] (creepiest most disturbing giggle in all of cinematic history BUT ANYWAYS)

We've established that Maggie not only is a tenant of land owned by Aziraphale, but that her accounts are all paid up. Her citizenship (or at least, permanent residency) is secure. If simply renting out the space wasn't enough, we learn that she is a fourth-generation resident of the space owned by Aziraphale, which started inside the bookshop itself, and so Maggie may have been born into citizenship. Either way, the consequences of this arise in S2E6:

AZIRAPHALE: Maggie, what just happened? MAGGIE: I… I think I might have just told them they could come in.

Crowley can't tell demons that they can come in. But Maggie can. My explanation for this is because she actually lives (and is up on her rent) in a territory of the nation of Bookshop. It could be posed that Maggie can invite demons in because she is a guest of the ball, and so this is a temporary power, but Crowley was a "guest"/house-sitter and didn't have this power, so I reject this explanation and affirm it as a citizenship/residency power.

The Metatron's Offer

At time of writing, the fandom has spent two months trying to figure out why Metatron offered Aziraphale the job of Supreme Archangel. Was it to get him back into Heaven where he can keep a closer eye on him? Was it to get him away from Crowley? Did Metatron realize that he is a wellspring of power and wants to tap into it for nefarious purpose?

I'm going to propose a different, much simpler reason: he needed to get Aziraphale out of the bookshop. To explain that, we look to a line that Crowley delivers during the Conversation:

CROWLEY: I mean, if Gabriel and Beelzebub can do it, go off together, then we can. Just the two of us. We don't need Heaven, we don't need Hell, they're toxic. We need to get away from them, just be an us. You and me, what do you say? AZIRAPHALE: Come with me… to Heaven. I'll run it, you can be my second in command. We can make a difference. CROWLEY: You can't leave this bookshop.

Hang on, didn't Crowley just say that they should run off together? Why is he now saying that he can't leave the bookshop? These statements seem contradictory, but through the lens of sovereignty, they're not. You see, if Aziraphale goes off to Alpha Centauri without rejoining Heaven, the Bookshop still belongs to him and constitutes the sovereign nation over which he rules. It is the anchor and touchstone of his independent status. What ever new residence they establish will, in turn, be an embassy of that "independent embassy." The Bookshop then (I hypothesize, and posit that Crowley does too) grants Aziraphale protection from Heaven and Hell no matter where he is in the universe.

A Brief Aside on the Mechanics of Satellites

We have some evidence that Bookshop rules extend to wherever Aziraphale happens to be "residing," in that when Aziraphale borrows Crowley's car, Shax must trick him into giving him permission to enter (S2E4):

HITCHHIKER: I'm so sorry, can you be an angel and give me a lift? Only m-my car's broken down and my phone's dead. Just to the next town, there's a garage there. AZIRAPHALE: Oh… yes, well… I suppose you better climb in, then.

Thus establishing that, theoretically, Crowley and Aziraphale could "go off together" and still have the protection of the Bookshop.

The Consequences of Aziraphale's Final Decision

Crowley tells Aziraphale that he cannot leave the bookshop, but then we know that Aziraphale takes the job and ascends to Heaven. Metatron looks extremely relieved. No sooner do they ascend than Muriel enters the bookshop, where we know Metatron has placed them. Let's take this point by point.

The Bookshop is no longer a sovereign nation

By rejoining Heaven, Aziraphale has reclaimed his citizenship as an angel of Heaven. I'm going to go ahead and say (for sake of argument and because it is thematically consistent) that Heaven does not honor duel citizenship. Therefore, Aziraphale has given up his citizenship of Bookshop, but as it still belongs to him, it is now territory subject to the jurisdiction of Heaven. Muriel has been placed there as a representative of Heaven. Having been (we can surmise) the only "independent embassy" in existence where both angels and demons had to ask permission to enter, it is once again a good and proper embassy of Heaven.

This is important because now, neither Aziraphale nor Crowley have any place to go that is protected from both Heaven and Hell.

Muriel has unfettered access to Aziraphale's collection of books

My very simplistic theory for why Metatron went to so much trouble to get Aziraphale to cede control of the Bookshop is that he needs access to his collection of books. Specifically, he needs a certain Scrivener who enjoys reading to set up camp there and peruse every single book. This is because he is looking for something.

Gabriel left Heaven with a large box; he arrived at the Bookshop with an empty box. We can punt around all sorts of possible reasons but let's say, for sake of conjecture, that Gabriel stole the Book of Life on his way out to protect himself and Beelzebub from erasure. We don't know where the Book is now, but Metatron (who doesn't know the box was empty) has good reason to believe that the Book of Life is somewhere in the bookshop. But it's too dangerous to admit that they've lost track of it, so the best way to find a Book in a bookshop is to get the owner out of there, install an avid reader as steward, and wait patiently.

Other consequences of this theory of citizenship

We are given to believe that Crowley and Aziraphale are both outcasts of Hell and Heaven, respectively, yet Aziraphale seems to be the only one of them that benefits from the protections of independence. We could say that it is because Aziraphale owns land, and so that allows him to establish a nationstate, whereas the Bentley does not, but since Aziraphale brings the protections of independence with him when he borrows the Bentley, that seems flimsy. I find it more likely that in S3 we're going to learn something about Crowley that explains why he lacks these protections, and if I dare to make conjecture, it will be the subject of another meta.

I didn't get around to a discussion of the consequences of Aziraphale throwing his halo and "declaring war," or that war declaration being maybe-cancelled by Crowley; suffice to say, that may again be it's own meta.

~~~

If you enjoyed this, you may enjoy: Honolulu Roast: the story of a coup

another meta on the topic of ownership re the Bentley by @ineffable-endearments can be found here.

~~~

edit: I was reminded by @rekishi-aka to note that in S1, Gabriel and Sandolphon walk right in, because at that time the bookshop is an embassy of Heaven. For all of S2 except the final 30 minutes, celestials all have to ask permission to enter, including Michael, Uriel, Saraqael, and Muriel, because the Bookshop is independent. After Aziraphale throws his halo, celestials just appear inside the Bookshop: by declaring war, Aziraphale has relinquished his protection. It's unclear whether it would have been reestablished by Crowley cancelling the war, but it's a moot point because then Aziraphale agrees to become the Supreme Archangel.

[zeegaazeegaah]

A gavi x reader where reader is a physiotherapist for the spanish football team and during a game he gets hurt, nothing serious. But she helps him with the injury and he developes a crush so big that the entire team knows, even her. So one day someone else (teammate) asks her out infront of gavi, because he's trying to show that if he doesn't do anything she will eventually move on. The guys helpes him realise that he must confess and he does only for her to say that she knew but didn't think he would actually ask her, thanks.

crush; gavi

word count: 2,034 (I got carried away)

Gavi has been in this room more often than anyone, and he doesn't know how to feel about it. He can't help what he feels either. No athletes prefer getting injured. In fact, it's safe to say they hate it. It hinders them from doing their best or worse; it completely prevents them from playing. Knowing all that, it's still hard to not be injured. As awful as getting injured is, it's also impossible to not get hurt in this profession. To not sprain a muscle or two, to not twist an ankle, to not develop a bruise from being kicked too hard in the calf, but it is what it is.

He has sprained his muscles, twisted his ankle countless times, and ended up in the same room. It's not like he enjoys getting injured. Being the type of athlete he is, it almost drives him to insanity even at the thought of having to rest and missing out on practices. Unfortunately, the worst had still happened to him. There was this one time his ankle was injured so badly he had started to question if he could play any longer.

Much to his distress, he still remembers the feeling vividly. Face drained from colour, his heartbeat raced so fast that it started to hurt him in the chest. An emptiness settled in his stomach as his mind began to race, thinking of all the what-ifs that were only doing worse to him mentally.

To this day, he thinks if he could've ever survived that period of his life without completely sabotaging his mental health if not for her. He remembers that day vividly, all the bad and good. She was new, much much younger than he expected. Only a bit older than him. He saw her replacing the previous physiotherapist before, but he had personally never been checked by her till then. He had no interest either. Until, his situation forced him to interact with her. Not only did she do her job to lessen his physical pain and get him to stand on his feet, but also went extra mile to make sure his mental health stayed intact.

It's as if she could see through him, take one look at him, and tell he was constantly beating himself up for his condition. She would pat his head, rub his back, and play the role of a psychotherapist despite it not being her job to do so. There were times when her jokes would keep him laughing, and smiling throughout the day. She'd make him forget he wasn't miserable. And at some point, he began to feel his pulse, quickening every time she had to sit down beside him. His face would warm up, and worse, he would stutter.

This did not go unnoticed by his club mates, and once he recovered, he was the victim of their relentless teasing. Every time she had to check them for a check-up, the stares, the looks that they all sent simultaneously had him panicking on multiple occasions, fearing she'd pick it up and find out. Find out about the painful crush he has developed on her. Thankfully, she was always way too focused on her job to seem to notice any of it.

And there he is, once again, in the same room where she usually resides for most of her working hours unless she is standing with a clipboard in her hands, listing down the physical condition of the team. He feels stupid for feeling giddy but he can't help it either. He isn't seriously injured or anything this time, he woke up to a numb leg that was bothering him. He could easily fix it by working out but he just didn't feel like it. Plus, it would give him an excuse to be here.

She peeks from behind the curtain before walking up to him. Taking a once-over at him, she pointed to the bruises littered under his left eye and another over it. "You…" she begins, a small smile on her face as she reprimands him gently, "body injury is one thing but face injury? Seriously?"

Without waiting for his response, she moves to the other side of the room to wear gloves before returning to sit beside him on the bed with cottons in her hand and a bottle of something he couldn't quite decipher what it is. She pours the liquid on the cotton before gently taking his chin on her palm, dabbing the wet cotton on the bruises around his eyes to which he winces. Her face is merely two metres away from his. Yet again, he feels his cheeks heating up as he feels her breath on it and takes a gulp.

There's something about the way she has always handled him. Despite being smaller in size, she treated him like a fragile glass. Always gently handling him, whether it be his body or his face. She was never hasty to get her job done. She never looked annoyed at him or even tired. How could he not like her?

"Gavi?" She waves a hand over his eyes to which he comes back to his senses. "You didn't come here for me to disinfect your facial bruises, right? Because I'm gonna be honest, that's not exactly what my job is."

"Oh, yeah. My right leg feels weird for some reason."

To which a frown takes over her face. "And… you couldn't exercise it out?" she raises a brow at him, knowing full well he could've done that.

He coughs awkwardly at that. It's simply the truth. "I could but I don't feel like it." He says, a sheepish smile forming on his face as he looks her in the eye.

"Okay…" Her eyebrows are furrowed when she replies, taking a look at his right leg. She moves his 'numb' leg in multiple directions using her hands before making him do some light exercise on that leg for the blood to circulate properly again.

"You're good to go but before that, I need to advise you about something. You should not…"

Gavi is not listening, he is absently toying with the hem of his shirt as he stares at her talking to him about something possibly important for him to know. He starts daydreaming right then and there; of her back hugging him, of her soft hands holding his face not for medical purposes but to look at him with a loving look in her eyes.

Unbeknownst to both of them, Pedri enters the room to see the embarrassingly obvious longing look on Gavi's face that seemed to go unnoticed by her as she's busy telling him what to avoid and what to do. He fakes a loud cough before clapping his hands to get their attention, "When are you clocking out?"

She jerks her head to look at him, "Me? In an hour, why?"

"Let's get coffee." He says, a smug look on his face that has Gavi's blood pressure increasing.

No, it couldn't be happening. Since when did Pedri take an interest in her?

"You don't drink coffee, Pedri." She replies, a blank look on her face.

"Then, tea. "

"You don't drink that either. Plus, isn't it too late for coffee and tea?"

"It's never too late for coffee and tea."

"I don't know. I don't feel like going anywhere else other than home if I am being frank."

Gavi tries hard to fight the grin from forming to no avail. Pedri takes a glance at him and winks.

"Okay." He shrugs, completely unaffected as if he just didn't get rejected.

×××

They're in the dressing room after practice when Gavi steals a glance at Pedri's direction to which Pedri raises his brows and asks, "What?"

"I am confused. What was that yesterday?" Gavi asks, tilting his head to the side while rubbing the back of his neck.

The older boy laughs, "I had to do something to get you to your senses."

Gavi's mouth forms in an O before he huffs with a pout on his lips, looking hopeless. "If she blatantly rejected you like that, what makes you think she wouldn't do the same to me?"

The older boy gasps like it's the most ridiculous thing he has ever heard. "You can't be serious, Gavi."

"What did I do now-"

"There's no way she doesn't know you have a crush on her. Everybody can tell. They don't even have to confirm."

Gavi gulps at that, the fear of rejection resurfacing somewhere in his head. "But… but…"

"Listen, Pablo. She will move on. She isn't gonna wait for you and even if you could get rejected, doesn't mean you should never confess and live with the guilt of not trying at all. It sucks more when that happens. But I believe she won't reject you. Something tells me she likes you back."

"You think so?" He asks, nervous.

"I believe so."

That's all he needed.

×××

Gavi is pacing outside her room, he is jittery. There is a lump in the back of his throat that is too painful for him to swallow. He hasn't been this nervous even before matches in a while. He eyes the other end of the hallway and wonders if he should just dash out and save himself from this situation. Then again, running away would be far worse when he has spent hours making up his mind last night.

She appears from her room. Her sundress indicates it's a saturday. Eyebrows shooting up at the sight of him waiting for her, she walks to him to hold him by the shoulders, "Gavi? What are you doing here?"

He doesn't wanna spend any time beating around the bush so he manages a, "Can we get c-coffee?" Unfortunately, stumbling upon the last word to which she chuckles. His cheeks redden.

"What's with you, Pedri and coffee? Both of you don't drink it." She asks, visibly amused.

Gavi closes his eyes. He can't do this. He takes a deep breath before opening his eyes to look her in the eye and before he could even decipher what he was doing, his hands reached to hold hers. "I like you and… if you'd like I-I would like to take you on a date."

The response he receives shocks him. She intertwines her hands with his, chuckling, "Well, what's stopping you?"

"Why… are you not surprised?" He frowns.

"Cause… I knew?"

"How?" He frowns harder, "did Pedri tell you?"

She ends up laughing at his reaction. "Gavi, I don't know if anyone told you this but it's painfully obvious when you have a crush. Your cheeks are red, you are shaky, you seem nervous. It's all so cute but so painful to watch that I almost considered freeing you from this burden by confronting you about it."

Her eyes stare deeply into his as if trying to read him more but it also lets him know she doesn't feel any different than he does. Her lips beg to form in a smile that she suppresses with all her might yet it's obvious.

He tugs her into a hug so quickly she lets out a yelp in surprise. "Woah!" she exclaims, wrapping her arms around him before he rests his head on her shoulder. "What are you doing?"

"Hugging you." He mumbles before breathing out, "I've wanted to do this since forever."

"Is that so?"

"Yeah. Something about you screams comfort and peace to me. Always wanted to feel at peace in your arms." And before he realises what he has said, she separates from the hug. Her hands reach out to hold his face and stare at him with a longing look.

"You're so… you've been putting me on a pedestal. I'm a bit concerned. Did my hug live up to your expectations?"

He only nods, unable to take his eyes off hers. "Wait, since when have you been crushing on me?" He asks, curious all of a sudden as he grins.

"Who said I have a crush on you?"

He frowns.

"Sorry, sorry. I'm only teasing you. Now, will you actually take me out now or will we talk here the entire night?"

×××

A/N: What an insanely good request.

[fun-k-board]

Lord Of The Rings With a Platonic, Child Reader From Our World

Characters included : Frodo Baggins, Legolas, Samwise Gamgee, Peregrin ' Pippin ' Took and Meriadoc ' Merry ' Brandybuck

Note(s) : They don't have the time to turn around, so you sort of get roped into joining them, at least until they find a place for you to stay.

Also, in this the reader knows about the Jackson movies but never really paid attention to them, and they haven't read the books.

Frodo Baggins

Ah, yes, Frodo. Resident ring bearer and anxiety magnet. He was quick to defend you if any suspicion arouse of your random arrival, you're a human and can't even reach his height, the Hobbit that can't reach an elves or humans chest, so, you must be incredibly young. Because of this, Frodo can't help but want to help you, especially on the quest.

He's very sweet and caring with you and makes sure you get enough rest. Frodo can't exactly carry you, so if you get too tired to walk the most he can do is hold your hand and guide you along. Despite that, he helps in other ways.

Like how he's always giving you extra food and maybe even a spare coat or blanket that's laying around, he makes sure you get enough sleep even if it means he gets less. Given he's the most important part of this mission to destroy the ring, he's usually a bit babied and overprotected, not so much that's it's immediately noticeable, but it's there.

So, he understands how annoyed you can get when it happens with you, though he definetly thinks your situations are different considering he's technically an adult and you aren't even close to being one.

Frodo isn't too sure how to help you when it comes to you being afraid, or angry, or even just in a state of depression about your situation. He doesn't exactly realise how strange and overwhelming it must be for you, until or if you begin to start wearing down mentally. His solution is to try and read you stories, no, he didn't exactly bring any books with him, but he has certain books memorised.

It may help, it may not, but the thought is what counts, and he is trying to help you the best he can with the unfortunate situation he's in.

If you ever claim to know him or the fellowships story, maybe Bilbo's, or even accidently letting in on events to follow, he's stunned. At first given the fact you claimed to be from a land nobody, not even Gandalf, has heard of, the strange reactions you had to their foods and way of life, among many, many other things, he became convinced you weren't human. That, or you were from a different time, the future specifically, he'd never fully believe it or bring it up, but it's always a sneaking suspicion you aren't what you claim.

When it comes time to leave you at a safe village, you're clearly unhappy, wanting nothing more than to stay with the Hobbit who helped you through your toughest hours. Yet, he understands you mustn't come with him, it's far too dangerous for you. And so, he leaves, leaving you heartbroken.

When he eventually returns, the ring destroyed, Middle Earth saved, he can't help but feel empty. His time spent with you becomes short lived, a few months at most, before he decides to move on, leaving you alone again, I suppose it makes leaving Middle Earth to return home easier, but all the more bitter.

Legolas

Legolas understood how weak humans are compared to his kind, and to see a human child so alone made his heart break. He couldn't help but become your protector, especially when you seemingly had no idea how to function in this world. Sometimes, if you're too tired and the rest of the group isn't, he'll pick you up, it can make you feel a little weak, but he assures you it's just because you're young. He'd treat any other child the same.

I think he may be one of the few to actually understand in part what you mean when you say you aren't 'from here'. He won't clock in immediately, but after seeing just how different you viewed life and just everything in general, how you can't do the most basic of tasks without some help, or how you looked at him with such familiarity, there's just a lot he notices that makes him raise a brow.

If you tell him, Legolas may believe your making it up, you're a kid after all, one that's going through a lot. But, after realising you're dead serious he wracks his brain trying to remember if anybody has ever mentioned something like this happening. He wants to try and help you go home, and plans to bring you home with him so he can find a solution somewhere. And if he can't find one? He wants to help you find peace in your predicament as long as you stay there.

When it comes time to leave you at a safe haven, he is sad to leave you behind, you're a little friend, after all. But, he understands it must be done, and explains to you exactly that, which makes the ending a bit more sweet than bitter.

Eventually, he does return, and meets with you once more, he understands that in a blink of his lifetime you'll be dead, but, that doesn't stop him from being your closest ally during all of this. However, you do need to return to Earth. He finds himself mourning you far sooner than he expected.

Samwise Gamgee

Sam becomes a literal dad, you're a random human kid in this traumatic journey to destroy one of the most dangerous items in the entirety of middle Earth, and you claim to have no idea where you are. He's giving you extra food, holding your hand and picking you up, if you get too cold or scared in the night he'll try hugging you for a while and telling you stories of misadventures in the Shire. As plain as they may seem compared to a journey to destroy the most dangerous object in the entirety of Middle Earth.

If you're sad, the most he can do is offer comfort in the way of cuddling, or a story, sometimes he even has to ask Gandalf for help because he's just so lost. Anger is something he can deal with a little better, he holds your hand and tells you why you should be angry, but you shouldn't keep it bottled or use it unfairly against others.

I think at first Sam would just believe you come from a strange human place, and that's why your behaviour is so off. That's until he notices some things, when asked about things he'd consider basic knowledge, you are completely blank, sure, maybe you know what an elf is, but after that you sort of just stare at him confused at what he's talking about. You even believed him to be a dwarf at first!

He asks Boromir and Aragorn if they know any human places that you're talking about, neither know, so he's even more perplexed at what on middle earth you're talking about. He begins to believe you're making it up, he's not condescending like most adults, and he pretends that he understands if to give you some peace of mind, but all it does is make you more frustrated and scared. You just want to go home.

Your short time as friends comes to an end, he must leave further on in the journey, and you must stay behind, you both understand, well, he does and you partly do, all you can do is wait for the ring to be destroyed.

Sam returns, and he takes you back to the Shire with him, where he introduces you to everybody, you're almost like a child to him, but then you leave to go back to Earth. He can't stop his heart from breaking, even more so when Frodo leaves.

Meriadoc 'Merry' Brandybuck and Peregrin 'Pippin' Took

The fact you're incredibly young, found yourself in a traumatic and confusing situation, let's not even mention the fact there's little people with gigantic hariy feet and no shoes, you'll probably try and cope. Whether that's with humor or shutting down, Pippin and Merry are a package deal, no matter if you like them or not, a young and confused presence egnites their curiosity.

Besides, Gandalf specifically told them to not be overbearing and or overwhelm you, so what does Pippin, master of disappointing and angering the grey wizard do? That's right, he becomes overwhelming. And Merry, master of attempting to one up his dear friend, does the exact same.

How they do this depends on your mood, if you're depressed and very shy they'll try cheering you up, asking questions about your home, if that makes it worse? They begin acting even more childish than usual to make you laugh, to the literal pain and torture of Gandalf. But if you're trying to cope with humour, they are more so just tagging along, making jokes that distract you from your pain.

Neither will clock in that you're from an unfamiliar world, sure, you're weird, but so are they. Both assume your strange actions are simply just a result of you being a human, do Boromir or Aragorn act the same? No, but you're a human kid so, that probably factors in somehow.

Both laugh you off if you try to explain the truth, they don't believe you, and reduce it to a good story that they can give to Frodo to write about. You may get angry, sad, or just decide to go with it, neither really notice that you're not lying until someone else points out how dumb that idea is.

When it finally comes time to drop you off, you want to stay with the two, because while they're in part strangers and this is a strange land, they're at least familiar, unlike the place they're basically abandoning you at. Pippin and Merry feel the same, and so sneak you with them.

The situation may become dire, and you probably get incredibly unhealthy and sickly in your time with them, but when it's all over, you feel like you've gained two older brothers. Which will make it so much more painful when you have to say goodbye.

[monalogs]

uhhh I dunno really but — maybe a fic of reader just walking in the forest because they r lost then getting caught in a bear trap nyen set up and uh he does something fucked up to reader, like fucks them then kills them or something? Or something heavy gore related while he fucks them.. sorryyy ahhh (I’m a damn masochist.)

The Lost Camper | Nyen

➷ Paring - Nyen x Fem!Reader [Randal's Friends / Ranfren]

➷ CWs - noncon, unsafe sex, fear play, knife play, blood kink, stabbing, sadism, fingering, violence, degradation, dacryphilla, READER DEATH

a/n - this came out to 4k words :') i know anon described a bear trap/hunting-esque situation but i felt making the reader a more cryptic-like being of the woods made a bit more sense (and easier to fit in) either way, reminder that this is DARK. there isn't a happy ending and the reader does freakin' die. (though rebirth is implied. see it how ya' do) i apologize for any mistakes as this is my longest work to date (whoop whoop) thank you for your comments and requests on both ao3 and tumblr. keeps me motivated ^^ currently working on a Randal fic and some Luther headcannons :3 inbox open as always. ANYWAYS ENOUGH

You aren't sure why you decided to hop over the Ivory household's security measures and rummage through their things while they slept. You’ve seen campers before in these woods plenty of times. Hundreds, if you kept count… but you don't.

You also don't ever interact with campers these days either. They didn’t tend to be special and they didn’t ever really get in the way. Maybe you’ll spook them by hovering around behind the greenery, sticks cracking underneath rugged boots. They don't interest you anymore beyond listening to them talk about their boring, human lives. 

It doesn't make them completely irrelevant to you though, as you’ve gained a habit of sneaking onto their campsites. You steal – quite often. Well, as often as people come this deep into the woods. It's how you justify it, how else are you supposed to get canned food and new clothes? And so what if you also take a couple of books you can't read and stuffed animals whose furs mat under dirty hands. The mossy den you reside in could always use new things, even if you have no use for them.

For as long as you remember, it has been like this. A being of the woods, you’ve become a cryptic-like legend. “The Lost Camper”, you’re called. Whatever that means. You aren't sure what life is like past bark and muddy soil, clothes messy and hands rough. You were never lost, this is all you know.

Is it all so bad? So bad that humans go out of their way to tell campfire stories about your existence? The grass gives you more comfort than any sleeping bag can. 

So there really wasn't any need for you to be past that fence they set up. The truth was that they were… interesting. More interesting than any other family who ventured out here. You saw as they gathered around and talked, well, two were doing most of the talking. Brothers, apparently. (despite not looking much alike) 

They tagged along a couple more… characters. Notably, these two catmen that hovered around the older one of the brothers. They looked more alike, cat ears dawning their similar haircuts. You could tell them apart by their clothes – easier, their demeanors. 

The blue haired one stood hunched, staring at his… ”master” talk. Immediately, you could tell he was the more timid of the two. You observed the other pinkish haired one smoke a cigarette a few steps away from the group. His eyes – eye, actually – looked low and dark. The patch on one of them leaves you to wonder what might've happened for it to be left in such a state. Catching his name from his master, “Nyen”, which made sense considering his appearance.

You must have been staring too long, because suddenly Nyen lifts his head and his sunless eye meets yours for a second. Ducking quickly behind the trees, it should have been your sign to leave, to go on your merry way of collecting berries and getting high off of mushrooms for entertainment. 

But of course – you didn't. Instead, you retreated to the comfort of the conifer and stood idly. The sun set faster than you expected, any thoughts of simply leaving long gone hours ago. An eager smile spread across your face, these unique campers were asleep and you were going to rein free on their grounds. This was going to be the most fun you’ve had in ages!

As you tiptoe to their spot, you point out the odd set up. They had a truck and two tents, but only one tent actually seemed to be occupied. They also left a plethora of things outside unattended. Great for you. 

Nimbly, you start pocketing random things into your large well-loved leather crossbody bag. You’ve rummaged through many people’s unattended things before, but they definitely take it to a different level. This place was filled with bizarre stuff, stuff you’ve never seen before. 

Why the fuck were they carrying several wooden carvings of beavers and… birthday cake flavored “lube”... unsure what the latter was. Either way, you found it all the more entertaining to stuff these random things into your bag, giggling slightly when you pulled out a photorealistic framed drawing of a blue pony with a rainbow mane. 

You were so intrigued by all these things that you didn't realize masked, narrow eyes staring at your figure past the of the darkness camp. 

-

Nyen had been waiting for this. How stupid can you be? He saw you past the trees when the sun was still up, staring with a stable gaze – observing. Your face was shaded by the leaves, but he could see the grip you had on the tree trunk you stood behind. You looked rugged, you weren't just another camper or hitchhiker. He huffs his cigarette, more freaks. Nyen moves his eyes towards his master, clearly already stressed with the hitchhiker they had picked up hours before. Another huff.

His eyes meet yours when he decides to look up again and just as quickly – you're gone. 

Once Luther hears about this, his brows furrow slightly at the idea of another thing to deal with. “Oh dear, I just can't catch a break.” Nyen waits for his master to continue.

Randal (who totally wasn't eavesdropping) perks up once he recognizes who they were talking about, “Oh! Oh! You mean the…” He pauses for dramatic effect, “The Lost Camper…” Luther twists his head to stare at his brother, “Is that the name?” 

Randal nods excitedly, “I’ve read all about her! Apparently, she’s a ghost. Or like a cavewoman. Or an animal-hybrid. I actually didn't read that much.” He shrugs, “She doesn't hurt people, I think. Just swipes a few things and wonders around. Which is a little boring, would love it if something tried to kill us! AGAIN!”

Luther shakes his head and looks back at Nyen, “Hm, it’s too late now to move everything back inside…” He places a finger on his chin, “If that's true, then deal with her if she becomes a problem, alright?” 

Nyen nods, “Yes sir.”

From what Randal said, he knew you would most likely lurk in the incognito of the night. So he took his stance outside the tent everyone else slept in. 

He almost giddily twirls the handle of the knife, waiting and waiting. Hours pass, he doesn't have a watch but his internal clock tells him it’s around 3 am when he finally spots you. Look at you, being a problem.

Your back is faced away from him. Through the darkness, (and thanks to his skill of seeing well in the dark) he witnesses the silhouette of your thievery. Nyen can't point out exactly what you are taking but all he can imagine is his master’s upset face if he sees things are missing. The grip on his knife tightens.

He needs to wait again, wait for the perfect moment, wait to pounce . Nyen hears giggles escape your mouth – small, but he hears it. His jaw clenches. How dare you tee-hee while taking his family's very important stuff? He almost wants to lunge at you straight away, but he decides against it. Nyen wants to stab you in the throat and watch the blood splurt once you turn around. He just needs to get a bit closer…

SNAP

How irritating. Nyen just had to step on a twig. 

Your reaction time is just as fast as his, darting into the dark woods with him quickly trailing behind you.

Nyen huffs to himself. He wanted to make this quick, but he certainly doesn’t mind a chase.

-

Holy shit, shit, shit. Thoughts race a thousand miles per hour, with your legs following right behind. You admittedly got too into it that you weren’t focusing, now you have to make a great escape. 

This isn’t the first time you’ve had to run away from a camper, there was a time where a woman got spooked by you on her way to take a piss. Her scream was so loud that you immediately dashed past her, dropping the clothes you had stolen. Her husband (presumably an experienced outdoorsman) actually trekked through the woods with a shotgun for a while as you held your breath in the branches above. Ultimately, her family was gone before the sun was down. 

But you aren't sure you can just avoid this one. You allow yourself to turn peek behind you and see him . The smoking catman, Nyen. The shade of the night is heavy, but you’ve adapted to see well in the dark. You’re sure he has that skill too with the way his gaze is steady, hard, and right on yo u through terrifying masked eyes. Where did his eyepatch go?

Shaky hands clutch the filled crossbody bag that jumps with your every movement. If you had to go through this, you at least want to keep the stuff. 

Just tire him out, you think. It's reassuring that you know these woods like the back of your hand. You’ve tread several miles, exploring and wondering, though never finding a road. (Odd.)

Agilely weaving him past trees and fallen logs, your boots try to find leaf covered ground in an attempt to not leave visible tracks, but that would cause you to move slower – and you can't afford that. You assume with enough loops and turns, he will lose your trail.

A loud, gravelly yell can be heard behind you, “You can't run forever!” It makes your heart hammer because it's true. You aren't sure how long you’ve been running now but it feels like hours .

Periodically, you pause to catch your breath, but it isn't long before you hear his heavy steps get closer and closer, forcing the chase to start again.

It’s terrifying. You have amazing stamina. It's part of being in these woods, moving a lot. Nyen is different though, you don't think he’s stopped once. He’s a hunter, a bit slower than his prey but always behind. 

Huffing, you duck under branches and jump over uneven ground with aching legs, barely catching yourself a few times. It’s strenuous to carry on like this, so close to giving out. It’s impossible to focus with this adrenaline pumping through your veins, are you going in circles? Herbage you’re so used to begin to feel like a labyrinth of ever consuming moss and vines. 

Managing to keep your distance, you start to believe that maybe you’ve lost him when the echo of rushed footsteps begin to fade. There’s a wave of relief when all that can be heard is the sound of heavy panting and earth stirring underneath sore feet. 

You close your eyes as you continue to move forward, wind flowing through your hair with momentum. It’s just for a second, for a moment of clarity. It's a terrible second. Your right ankle rolls horribly on a rock, making you tumble down with shriek. It reverberates past trees and you’re sure he's heard it. 

He’s already closing the gap, leaves shuffling behind you. Regaining composure with gritted teeth, you come to the conclusion that he can have his damn things. It’s not worth running forever. Peeking at your quickly growing swollen ankle, you aren't sure you even could.

Finding an area where the trees thin out with patches of soft grass, you use the last of your excretion to exclaim, “Wait, wait!” Facing him finally, he stops feet away from you. 

You finally get a closer look at him. His stance is still aggressive, as if you are about to take off at any moment. You see his glare filled with pure disdain, thin lips curling in a snarl. His eyes go beyond his bizarre mask, it feels like he's piercing you with them.

“Say it.” It's a husky voice that makes the anxiety in your stomach swirl. You realize you haven't been face to face with someone in… a while.

Croaking out with a strained voice, “Look, here. Have it back, I don't want it anymore.” With shaking hands, you tug the worn leather over your body and drop it onto the ground in between you two. Gulping, you scan his figure for any type of reaction.

That's when you notice a glint in his hand – a knife. Maybe it was foolish to assume he wouldn't have a weapon on him, he was chasing you after all. But it dawns on you that you don't have one. 

Nyen seems to pick up on your sudden stiffening, taking a step forward. It takes everything in you to not take off, but you know it would be fruitless with a sore ankle. 

“I know who you are.” You shake, “You do?” He nods slowly, “Randal told me about you. ‘The Lost Camper’, a habitual thief and urban legend. A fucking pussy too.” 

A low laugh escapes his lips, he’s getting closer. “So, you think you can just get away with this?” Sweat builds even heavier on your brow and you shake your head, “No, no. I’m – I’m sorry. I didn't mean to–” He cuts you off, “You knew exactly what the fuck you were doing. You need to be dealt with. ”

Your flight instinct kicks in and despite the light injury you sustained, your feet begin to move on their own. It's not fast enough though, he lunges at you and the sudden weight causes you to fall down with a pained hiss.

There's a tackle, he's grabbing at you while you try to force yourself up under him. It’s incredibly rough, there isn't enough room to struggle around with how his weight presses you down.

You watch terribly as Nyen brings his knife up in the air. The pale moon shines on the blade, and for a second, you see the reflection of your terrified face before it stains red. 

A guttural scream forces out of your mouth, making you throw your head back before it crooks back down to see crimson blood seep through your jeans down the side of your thigh. 

Nyen doesn't waste time in pulling the blade back, watching how you writhe in pain. Through teary eyes, you see pure excitement spread across his shaded face. He’s enjoying this. 

You can barely resist when he's forcing your thick jacket off your body – not satisfied with how the material lessens the cuts he’s adorning your body. “Don't do this…” It’s meek and pathetic, you know but you can't help it. He stands above, blood staining his hands. 

“It's already happening.” It's deep and low, and you feel every drip of venom that laces his words. 

You witness Nyen begin to rub the growing bulge in his tan jeans, causing your stomach to twist in a way that you're scared you may vomit out of the fear and pain. The catman groans, “Fuck… I’m going to make a mess out of you.”

Soon enough, he strips you of your worn shirt and jeans clothes. It's scary how Nyen handles you like a ragdoll, no concern for the twists and gashes your injured body has to endure. 

“So this is what you were hiding under all that? Lucky me.” It’s so condescending that you grit your teeth. For any chance of keeping your dignity, an attempt of covering yourself and moving is made – but it’s met with a swift kick to your ribs that results in burning heaving.

A cold hand slips under your bra, lifting it over and groping at your chest. Whimpering, you attempt to shy away from his touch but he draws you back with an even colder tip of a blade that swipes across your skin. 

Red drapes over your body like a warm blanket in contrast to the cool chill of the forest air. You can almost stare off into the starry night you are so used to while you try to regain bated breath, just for an escape.

Nyen doesn't allow this though. He flips you over roughly onto your stomach, ripping away the comforting sky from your vision. Again, you want to at least protest when he greedily spreads your legs open, hand prodding at your sensitive heat.

Shit. You don't remember the last time you ventured into anything sexual. Maybe you’d rub one out when the idea popped up, but it never really did. You’ve seen a… er– dildo (if you remember correctly what it was called) once or twice when snooping around camps. It gave you a good laugh then, but you would ultimately leave it. 

Now you can feel how his hard length presses up against you. It’s an uncommon sensation, and fuck – why does it have to be big? 

Cutting your underwear off, his long fingers soon dip into the heat of your pussy, pushing in and out. You gasp and tremble underneath his touch. He doesn't wait for you, curling his digits up as growing wetness coats his knuckles. It's disgustingly good, making your traitorous body clench around his fingers. 

Nyen looms over you, wiping the soaked knife onto dark long sleeves, helping him keep his grip on the handle. Then, he pulls his fingers out of you, tauntingly slow to hear how you whimper pathetically. “Look at you, bitch. You're fucking dripping.” He mixes the juices with your blood, “Heh, in more ways than one.”

With unbuckled jeans, he moves fully on top of you, knees pining the sides of you down as he grunts against your soft ass. Nyen then grips your hair and pulls your head back, curving your spine into an uncomfortable position. His knife finds its way to your exposed neck. 

Shaking, it nips at your skin as shallow breaths escape you. He brings himself closer . “Should I just kill you now? What do you think, slut?” Adrenaline rushes through your body, a shameful cry escapes you, “No, no! Don't– don't!” 

He grinds against you, “Then beg.” Shaking your head, you respond – “Please. Please let me go, I’m sorry.” A deep sinister chuckle responds, “No, bitch.” He yanks your head back even farther. Feeling his hot breath against your face, he spits, “Beg for me to fuck you.” 

Tears pool in your eyes, shutting tightly when his blade grazes hurt skin once more. His hard length prods at your entrance – waiting. With a deep breath, you whisper oh-so pathetically. “Please fuck me.” You pray it's enough.

“Better than that. C'mon, or I’ll slit your pretty little fucking throat.” He yanks your hair, pushing into your skin. You panic, fat tears streaming down your face. “No! Don't kill me! Please, please just fuck me. Please.”  

Your screams turn into loud cries, echoing onto the tall trees that surround the scene. Nyen relishes in your wails, nails digging into the back of your scalp before his cock sinks into you roughly. You squirm with a loud pained gasp, you weren't close to ready for him. 

His knife (thankfully) removes itself from your neck, grip on the handle still iron strong. It doesn't give you anything to distract from as he stretches you out incredibly painfully. Inch by inch, your muscles contract and try to adjust to his size – but it's not nearly enough when he begins to start to move. 

“You're so fucking tight.” He lets out a sharp grunt, skin slapping against yours. “You've never fucked, haven’t you?” All you can do is cry. “Perfect.”

Forgetting the threat of his knife, he reminds you with a deep slash across your back. Pain vibrates through you, hands grip at soil and blades of grass in an attempt to stiffen the burning sensation that consumes you. Nausea festers and chokes at the back of your throat, certain that if you had eaten this morning it’d be spilling out your mouth by now.

It's an entrancing sight for Nyen, the large gash displays the crimson beautiful blood dripping down your arched back and onto your asscheeks as he slams into you. It’s a lot of blood. So much so that he feels how you physically weaken under him, fully incapacitated.

He decides to flip you back onto your back once again like the ragdoll you are. There, he can see how the light in your eyes start to dim. Red, and swollen, and tear rimmed – they stare back at him, wordlessly pleading for any type of mercy.

Nyen ignores it, choosing to grab your injured thighs and hike them over his broad shoulders, angling even deeper inside of you. Tight muscles draw him closer, grunting at the feeling of your warmth enveloping him. “Shit, you're a greedy fucking thing, aren't you?” He spits at you, grabbing your face to make sure your eyes stay on him, inches separating your faces. 

You don't respond, hoarse cries and moans are all the sounds you can make. Nyen’s mask taunts you, wide eyes never leaving yours as his nails scratch at your chest and waist, marking and trailing. Nyen’s nails even have the nerve to dig into your open wounds, forcing the blood to escape even faster. 

Any pleas you can muster out fall on deaf ears, and you almost wish he killed you before all this. But then it clicks that this is all just a game to him – you're simply a toy. The evil grin on his face is evident of this, he's truly enjoying watching this horrible scene come undone by his hands. The chase, the torture, your cries . It only makes his heavy cock harder and his thrusts sloppier. 

Your head is woozy and your vision is getting blurry. Numbness circuits through your body, the only thing you can feel is the sensation of his cock ramming into you over and over again. 

Nyen lets go of your face and chooses to grab at your bouncing tits, squeezing hard enough to create bruises. His twitching cock then rubs inside of you perfectly . A loud whine follows that causes Nyen’s jaw clench at the sudden extra pressure around his length, “Ah, hgh,– take my cum like the pathetic bitch you are,”

Stars in your vision soon mix with the stars in the night sky, you can't feel your legs anymore, neither your arms. Blood loss is getting to you – and quickly.

His body drives into yours, the sensation of gore under you squelches around against skin and dirt. Then, the knot building inside your numbing abdomen finally snaps, your breath hitches and you keen loudly – writhing around him.

Nyen soon follows, basically growling at how your pulsating pussy feverishly sucks him in and empties his balls. He rides the orgasm, fucking his cum deep inside you, and basking in the gripping release.

When he pulls out and off of you, your body limps on the ground. Overlooking, he can see how your lungs shallowly take in much needed air. Blood glistens off your cut adorned skin, and god is it a fucking beautiful sight.

He tucks his cock back into his blood soaked jeans, and he can already hear about how it's extra laundry to do now. But frankly, he doesn't care. Nyen gives you a once over, just to make sure the image of you really seeps into his brain. After well enough, he pockets his knife and walks over to the criminal leather bag that started this all. 

Suddenly, a weak grip holds onto his ankle. You.

You look at him with big, lidded eyes and croak out, “Wait… wait– am I… am I going to die?” He stares back at your frightened face with his reactionless one. It's quick before he gives you a sinister smile, then he yanks his ankle out from your grasp and grabs the bag that lays beside you. 

“Yeah, probably.” He then pulls a cigarette out of his back pocket and lights it, flicking hot ash onto your chest. 

“You were a good fuck though, I’ll give you that.” It’s patronizing. A final tear streams down your cheek as you watch him walk into the fog of the trees without another word.

You stare at the sky once again, leaves sway above and let moonlight peek through. Your inhales seem to be getting shorter and shorter, but you don't realize. You just pay attention to the movement of the leaves and the formation of stars. 

Grass picks at the back of your head, it’s soft – one of the only things you can feel besides excruciating pain. You let it be your pillow, the comfort that is ever fleeting from your grasp. 

This wasn't a fate you ever expected to have, it wasn't even proper death. It all makes you want to get up and fight for yourself. To live. He wasn't going to win. 

But reality sinks in when your vision fills with black spots, and you remember you're actively bleeding out, abused and hurt. Dying. It hurts to move, and the lone thought of welcoming it reverberates in your mind. It’s okay… It’s okay… 

With a final breath and ringing ears, darkness finally mercifully consumes you. 

To the dirt you were born, to the dirt you return to. 

And to the dirt you will rise up from again. 

[anonymous-dentist]

Absolutely obsessed with Spiderbit's record books because:

Cellbit's official residence isn't his castle. It's Quesadilla Island's Federation Headquarters, aka the offices you get to via the train station

They actually have his blood type on record!

Also, does this mean that his employee number could be 435? Which is interesting because his coworkers and all the other Federation employees refer to him as "Mr. Cellbit", which is kinda like the Census Bureau because Cellbit more or less works under Cucurucho directly. And, as we know now, Cucurucho isn't actually a Federation employee, so maybe Cellbit isn't officially an employee, either.

Roier's home, again, is not listed as Cellbit's castle, which is where he's been living basically since his marriage. Everybody knows that he doesn't live in Bobby's Castle or Bobby's City because that's all just an extension of Bobby's Tomb, and Roier hasn't been in his house more than ten times since Bobby's death six months ago.

And then there are the kills:

(Cellbit, left. Roier, right.)

I've been sitting here for a WHILE trying to think of who they've killed-killed, and I think I've figured it out?

Cellbit, I believe the day before his wedding, murdered Maximus because Maxo was talking about politics, and that was Not Allowed. Outside of that time, he has made a point of not killing any players because of his Trauma- the only players he's ever properly attacked outside of that kill have been Forever (day of the wedding, Roier asked him to) and then Maxo again during the Gordinho Gostosinho interview (Maxo triggered him by bringing up his past, and he got revived by Richarlyson iirc.)

Outside of players, Cellbit has killed Abueloier once. He tried to kill him for good, but it somehow didn't stick. Abueloier doesn't count as a player because he isn't part of the experiment (aka he's played by cc!Roier as an NPC.)

Roier, meanwhile, has made a point out of not attacking literally anybody first because he doesn't like resorting to violence. He just doesn't Do That, hence why Etoiles was so happy when Roier started going apeshit and murdering people during Purgatory. He never even attacked his mortal enemies, Quackity and Spreen, after their betrayal (but tbh what he was gonna do to Spreen is worse than death.)

So who did Roier kill?

Well, a while ago he was running around playing with explosives, and he foreshadowed the hell out of the Purgatory ending when he blew up Maximus on a tiny little island, killing him and erasing little baby Trump(et)'s last sign.

Poor Maxo?

Anyway idk what any of this means, I just think it's super interesting

[sweetlyskz]

Awkward Silence|| SKZ

pairing: Han Jisung x Fem!reader

Summary: it's not like you chose to distance yourself from others. It just happened naturally. You always preferred looking from a distance anyway, always fantasizing about what could be. But when your forced to tutor you schools resident it boy, Han Jisung, it becomes harder to live in that fantasy world.

And now you just can't keep your distance.

Genre: High school au, oneshot, smut, annoying han lol

Warnings: language, oral (m receiving), slight masturbation

Word count: 1.1k

Your school was just like any other high school. It had the popular girls, the jocks, the nerds, the gamers. It had the annoying teachers and the most boring assignments.

But you couldn't complain, right? Any education is good education, you parents would always say. But you really didn't believe that was true, especially when you met Jisung for the first time.

"Hey, kid", he whispered to you is science class. "You got a pencil?"

You simply nodded, handing him a spare you hand lying on your desk.

"Thanks! I got you next time."

You rolled your eyes, knowing he'll probably come to class the next day, asking to borrow a pencil you will never see again. It's not like you didn't already know who he was. You had heard plenty of rumors about this guy, most of which proved to be true.

A spoiled rich kid, everything handed to him. The guy that goes for the extroverted girls, the ones with all the opinions. You've seen his type, copy and paste. But luckily, you didn't seem to fall in that category.

Or so you thought.

"Uh, hello? I said thank you."

"Oh, your welcome", you said plainly, not even bothering to look in his direction. He sat there, still staring at you with a confused expression.

"Are you new?" He asked you.

You shook your head. "Been here since freshman year, why?"

"Oh", he said. "Then you must not know who I am then, Han Jisung at your service!"'

"I know who you are, I just don't care. I gave you pencil, use it."

He scoffed. "What stupid rumor are the girls I've rejected spreading this time?"

Is his head so far up his ass, he can't realize when a person doesn't want to talk? You seriously thought he was insane.

"Can you just shut the fuck up and leave me alone? Pretend I don't exist! You did a great job doing it yesterday, what's so different today?"

He smirked. "Yesterday, you weren't wearing a skin tight crop top and booty shorts."

You kicked his chair, almost knocking him out of it.

"You're a fucking dick, Jisung."

"You haven't seen anything yet, princess."

"I'm failing?"

"You're failing, miss l/n", your science teacher told you. "Your doing amazing on all your test and classwork, but never turn in your homework."

"I do it, but forget to turn it in", you lied. "Is there anything I can do to bring my grade up?"

Your teacher pondered for a moment. "Well, there is one thing if your willing."

You nodded. "Yes anything." As long as it's not a blowjob, fucking perv.

"Since you've done well on the test I can only assume your retaining everything I've taught, correct.

You nodded, about to speak before a tall figure crept behind you.

"You asked for me, sir?"

Your teacher smiled. "Perfect timing, kid! I have found you a new tutor!"

"Oh fuck no!"

Jisung smiled. "Fuck, yes! We're gonna have so much fun!"

"Sir", you sighed. "Just fail me, I'll retake the class next year."

"tsk, tsk", your teacher shook his head. "Aren't you aiming for AP classes next year, miss l/n?"

"Y/n", said Jisung. "I solemnly swear, I will behave."

This is all a fucking joke to him, isn't it?

"Fuck it", you sighed. "What do I have to loose?"

It was awkward at first, just sitting in silence. You had never been to his house before. His room was neat, tidy.

"So, are you gonna tutor me or what?" Jisung asked.

"Oh, you actually want me to teach you?"

He rolled his eyes. "No, I just wanted to sit here and fucking stare at you."

"I figured you would after all that staring you were doing in class", you joked.

"I-I was not staring", he stuttered, a little taken aback by your boldness. "In class you acted like you couldn't speak! Now you've got an attitude!"

"You would too if you had to spend your weekend tutoring some nutcase who could probably afford multiple private tutors!"

He laughed. "Please! Like you had anything better to do."

"You're an arrogant little shit, you know that?"

He didn't respond, scrolling through his socials pretending like he didn't hear a word you head.

"Give me your phone", you instructed.

"What? No, I'm not-"

"Give me the fucking phone, Jisung", you repeated. "I'm not gonna ask again."

"What are you, my mom?" He teased. "I said no."

Fuck, you always attract the bratty ones.

"Okay, fine", you sighed, lifting up your shirt, revealing your tits, somewhat covered by your bra.

"W-what are you doing?" he slowly uttered, eyes now on you instead of his phone.

"Just showing you what I had planned to do if I wasn't stuck here with you."

You slowly unbuttoned your jeans, bringing your lace underwear down with them. "You know, if you weren't such a fucking brat, you could join me."

He quickly turned his phone off handing it to you. "I'm s-sorry, here! Take it."

You pouted. "Aw baby, you're gonna have to do a lot more than that."

"Anything", he whispered. You could tell by the lust in his eyes, he wasn't joking.

"Strip."

He quickly raised his shirt over his head, throwing it god knows where, pulling his sweatpants and boxers down to his ankles. You sat on the edge of the his, rubbing your clit to relieve a little pressure.

"Come here", you commanded. He obeyed, his semi hard cock standing proudly in front of you. You began to stroke him gently, rubbing your thumb against his bright red tip.

"fuck", Han whined. "M-more please."

"Aw, look at that", you cooed. "You actually do have manners, slut."

Still stroking his dick, you brought your mouth around the tip, sucking harshly. You took your other hand away from your clit, deciding to move it to his torso, holding on for support.

"Oh, fuck! I won't last, please", he moaned, hand finding its way to your hair.

You pull his tip out with a 'pop', gently fondling his balls. "Please what, slut? Hm? What do you want mommy to do, baby?"

"Fuck! I want mommy to use me, punish me please!" He begged you, bucking his hips, chasing the release he so desperately craved.

You smirked. "Punish you for what? For not listening when mommy is speaking to you?"

He nodded quickly, tears falling from his face, sweat droplets on his chest. "I've been s-so bad. Please punish me, m-mommy!" Fuck, he looked so good for you, so submissive. How could you ever deny him?

"Hands and knees on the bed, slut", you ordered, finally letting go of his leaking cock. He obeyed, ass in air, looking perfect for you, only you.

"How would you feel if the whores you fuck saw you like this, baby? Embarrassed?"

"No, no", he answered. "Only like this for mommy- only want mommy, please."

You smirked. "Good answer, slut."

————

A/n: I can write when I feel like it lol!! UNEDITED!

[syrma-sensei]

→ Inevitable Love.

pairing: kyōraku shunsui x wife!reader.

rating: slight angst (they're at war), fluff.

setting: canonverse.

word count: 1.1k.

masterlist | ao3 | wattpad

Restlessness took over you the day you moved in with Shunsui to the first squad quarters. The fact it was Yama-Jii's previous residence, and where Lieutenant Sasakibe Chōjirō died, did not help one bit, neither did the fact that the Mūken prison is right beneath you, the place Yhwach visited to see Aizen Sōsuke.

You used to like it, but when the old man and his vice-captain were still alive. However, you had no choice in the matter as your husband's new post requires it.

In the past week many things changed; your home was nearly destroyed, your leader is dead, thousands of soldiers shedded their blood in vain, and thousands more are wounded, and perhaps worst of all, at least to you, your husband isn't himself anymore.

The goofy, laid-back Kyōraku Shunsui, the man you fell in love with and married, turned into a hollow shell of what he used to be. It breaks your heart and soul to see him lifting the weight alone.

You barely saw him after the Central 46 appointed him the new Captain Commander of the Gōtei 13, he's been working relentlessly since day one, an attempt to not lose his mind. Although he hides well, too well that everyone thinks he's an insensitive bastard, but you know... you know the grief and sorrow he's dealing with through this ordeal, and what makes it worse, he doesn't allow you to help him through. However, you're as stubborn as he is, and perhaps more. You won't let your husband, the love of your life, struggle like this, alone.

You don't stir in bed like the couple nights before, however, as Shunsui lays next to you after you practically dragged him to take some rest. But you know neither him nor you could actually sleep.

Unlike your usual nights, and while your head rests on his naked chest, you two are awfully silent tonight. Nights with your husband used to include sessions of drinking sake and heated love-making, or just talking till dawn. These habits of yours drove Nanao insane, because her Captain would just sleep around, leaving most of the work upon her. Tonight though, you feel something akin to coldness between you two. Yet, hesitantly, you run your fingers on his hairy chest; your husband always welcomes your touch. Shunsui groans slowly before catching your hand in his, it's so tiny in his large one, and bringing it to his mouth to kiss.

Lifting your head up, you bring your other hand up to his stubbled cheek, brushing your thumb fondly to his skin. Within the darkness, you stare at his eyes. You cannot see his damaged one even though he's taken the eye patch off. You cup his cheeks in both hands, the fingers of your left hand tug a strand of his loose hair behind whatever left of his right ear before you kiss his lips.

It seems that your husband is desperate; his warm arms encircle your body, pushing you deeper into his hold, his hands cupping your buttocks before they ram up to your lower back then caressing your sides. You moan against his mouth, your hands stroking his face and hair fondly.

Suddenly, Shunsui breaks the kiss. He rests his forehead against yours momentarily before he sits up adroitly, his back facing you. He heaves a sigh then stands up.

“Shun?” You lift yourself up on the bed.

“Be right back, love.” He says without gazing back at you, and heads outside the bed chamber.

You fight the urge to follow and comfort him, choosing to wait for him to return on his own, giving him some privacy. You know how hard it is for him; his teacher and father figure died, your home is damaged beyond count, and he's been handled cumbersome responsibility as the new Captain Commander of the Gōtei 13.

You wait for two, three, four, five minutes, but you cannot any longer. In the past few days, you felt like some kind of a wall being built up between the two of you, and you cannot allow it to separate you.

You slide off of the bed, slipping in your husband's flowery kimono, sweeping out of the room. Tracing Shunsui's reiatsu, you find him in Yama-Jii's office terrace. You see his naked body bathing in the moon's light. Its silver hue highlights Shunsui's body, and glistens off his brown hair.

“Shunsui, darling, are you alright?” You say, getting closer to him.

You know it's a stupid question, but you had to ask him anyway.

“I will eventually be, my love, worry not about me.” He answers, his back is still to you.

You sigh. You had your suspensions, but now you're certain, for Shunsui never talks to you in such a manner; he doesn't want you to see his face without the eye patch.

You reach next to him, taking his hand in yours, caressing his arm with the other. Turning him to finally face you, you chuckle silently when he closes his eyes. At least he didn't lose his usual childishness. You cup his face again, standing on your toes to reach his face, kissing his forehead, nose, then each eye.

“You can't hide it forever, husband.”

He sighs, “No, I don't think I can, especially from you, wife.”

You give him a small smile when he slowly opens them, his intact eye is looking at you with anticipation. He's... afraid. You flinch for a mere moment when your eyes land on his other eye, or where it used to be. It pains you, your heart stings. You trace your thumb ghostly on it.

“You let such an opponent poke your eye out, you idiot boy.” Shunsui chuckles bitterly, “Think that how Yama-Jii would've scolded me.”

You snore a bit, patting his cheek playfully. “I think he'd be more disappointed if he knew you thought this would scare your wife off, knowing fully well that she's seen much worse things.”

Shunsui grins a tad, cupping your cheek. “How come you know such detailed things?” He whines, “I guess an apology is in order.”

You gasp dramatically, “You really thought I'd run away because my husband is now with one eye and one and a half ear?” you chuckle, “Hate to disappoint you, Shun, but you gotta work a lot harder if you wanna get rid of me.”

“Is it possible to do it though?” He teases you back.

“No, because I'm inevitable.” You peck his lips, “So is my love to you. You're trapped with me here.”

He grins, “Won't have it any other way with you.” Then he kisses your forehead.

“For the record, I'm not the one trapped with you, you're the one trapped with me.”

“Shuuuun!”