#dark seems like he's so focused on revenge that-

[litteredcorpses]

have i mentioned i think dark smells like a rotting corpse yet

cause i do

[5sospenguinqueen]

Feels Like Sabotage - Charles Leclerc x Red Bull! Reader

Summary: The Grid have decided that this is the season to see who can injure Yn the most. (Not intentionally, they all feel terrible about it). Fed up of seeing his girlfriend injured, Charles decides to enact revenge. 

Pairing: Platonic! Grid x reader. Charles Leclerc x Reader (slight)

Warnings: swearing, slight injury 

Word count: 3.3k

F1 Masterlist

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#1 Lando Norris

Cheers thundered throughout the track, vibrating through the floor and buzzing into the bodies of the podium winners. Max Verstappen stood in the middle, arms raised high as he bared his Grand Prix trophy to the roaring crowd. Another successful race, another win under his belt. The Dutch anthem was still ringing in his ears, and his smile widened as he turned to his left, finding his teammate beaming with her P3 trophy in hand. A double podium for Red Bull and another step closer to the Constructors Championship.

Jumping down from the P2 podium, Lando raced over to his friends, eager to share in their victories. He threw his arms around Max and Yn, dragging them both into a hug and shouting congratulations into their ears. Disentangling herself from the papaya racer, Yn turned to face the crowd, eyes scanning for a dark-haired Ferrari racer. Dimples deepening as he made eye contact with her, Charles blew his girlfriend a celebratory kiss. Unimpressed that Yn was distracted and not listening to his overjoyed shouts, Lando waved his arms about in front of her, hoping to garner her attention. Miscalculating his movements, his face morphed from delight to terror. Around them, cameras caught the moment that Yn’s face morphed from heart eyes to pain as the trophy came into contact with her skull. 

“Oh, fuck! Yn, I am so sorry! Oh, no. That was so hard.”

Recoiling from the McLaren driver, her free hand came up to nurse the red mark forming on her forehead. Lando chased after her, apologies spilling from his mouth. Yn beat him back with her elbow. 

“Did you just hit me with your trophy?” Yn asked in shock. “I didn’t even beat you.”

“I didn’t mean to. I was waving it about and…”

“And they say F1 drivers are coordinated,” chuckled Max, walking over to his teammate to inspect the damage done to her skull. He winced jokingly, fingers prodding the dark bruise forming. “Oh, dear, you have a bump.”

“Your protective P instincts are kicking in.” She teased, jerking back as pain lanced down the side of her face. “You going to put a Disney princess sticker on it next?” 

Max laughed, the melodic sound breaking through the ringing in her ears. “No, no. I will save those for Lando after Charles runs him off the track.”

The three winners glanced down at the aforementioned Ferrari driver, although Lando quickly looked away. Fury blazed in his blue eyes at the dark mark on her forehead. 

Sighing deeply, Yn placed the bag of ice (long since melted into water) on the table in her driver’s room. Post-podium interviews were always draining but it seemed to drag more so today. Although that might have partly been due to the pounding headache and the dull ache behind her eyes. After the disaster on the podium, the journalists had focused less on their momentous success and more on the injury she had sustained at the hands of Lando Norris.

The internet had already turned their moment into a meme, laughing at the incident, but the journalists decided to take a different route, complaining that Lando had done it deliberately. Fielding those questions was always soul-destroying, especially when they liked to twist whatever you said. Three short knocks sounded at her door, and it clicked open before she could turn from the mirror. 

“Mon amour.” Charles’ head poked between the gap before wincing slightly at the look on her face. “Does it hurt? I can’t believe Lando hit you.”

“He’s like an excitable toddler.”

Charles pulled her into his arms, glancing down at his bruised girlfriend. “You look like an œuf.”

“Saying it in French doesn’t make it any less insulting, Charles.” 

“You are the most beautiful egg I have ever seen,” he grinned, pressing a kiss to the wound Lando had left. 

#2 Daniel Ricciardo 

Sweat ran down the back of Yn’s neck as she gripped the steering wheel harder, flying through turn six. She tapped the brake slightly as the back of a Ferrari came closer, slowing down. 

“What is he doing?”

“Leclerc seems to be having an issue.”

“No shit. He fucking slowed right down.”

“Overtake when you can.”

“Tell me how to do my job, why don’t you?”

Pushing the car forward, she inched past the Ferrari as they approached the next turn. Her teeth clenched tightly together as he faded from view, running right alongside her. She felt sweat run down her cheek as her heart pounded in her chest and tried to focus on her breathing. She could do this. Just a little more.

“Fantastic job,” her engineer praised. “P5 now.”

Glancing in the mirror, she startled at the sight of Charles skidding off the track and onto the gravel, coming to a stop just before the barrier. 

“Is he okay?”

“Gearbox malfunction. Leclerc is fine and out of the car. Car behind is Ricciardo, two seconds.” 

“Okay.”

Relieved that Charles was fine, Yn returned her attention back to the track, doing her best to keep the McLaren behind her. 

“Defend. He’s going to try and overtake.”

Turning the corner, Yn kept on the inside, yanking the wheel in order to achieve the tight turn. Despite pulling left, she felt the car veer off to the right, ignoring her command as she slammed her foot down on the brake. Her body snapped forward as the car came to a sudden stop, smacking into the foam barrier. The plastic coating with Pirelli splashed across it broke, landing atop her head. 

“You okay?”

“What the fuck was that?!” 

“Ricciardo made contact.”

“No shit. He fucking shunted me into the wall!” 

“Obviously we’re going to have to retire the car.”

The cameras honed in on the Red Bull racer as she pulled herself out of the car. The crowd sighed in relief, pleased that she was alright but recoiled as she turned, violently kicking part of the plastic barrier. “Fuck!”

Storming over to the McLaren garage, Yn called out for the other driver forced to DNF. Behind them, the race was continuing, only another ten laps left to determine who would find their way onto the podium. And Yn wasn’t one of them. 

“What the fuck was that! Do you know how to drive?”

“Me? You turned into me!” 

“Don’t give me that shit! I was ahead of you, I was doing my turn first! You fucking clipped my wheel because you didn’t leave enough space and you want to blame me.”

Flashes of light went off around them, capturing the furious racer as she yelled at the sheepish Australian. 

“I am sorry but coming in here to yell at me won’t put you back in the race.”

“No, it won’t because my car is fucked! Learn to fucking drive next time.”

“A pleasure talking to you as always, LN.” 

“Suck my dick!” She yelled back, ignoring the numerous journalists smirking to themselves over their next juicy headline.

Debriefed and dismissed for the evening, Yn dragged her weary body out of the Red Bull motorhome. Despite having been cleared by medical, she was covered in bruises and looking forward to a night off. 

“Fancy seeing you here.” Charles teased, taking his hand out of his pockets and holding it out for her. Lacing her fingers through his, Yn’s broke out in a smile when he pulled her closer. 

“You didn’t have to wait for me.”

“What sort of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t drive you back to the hotel after your accident.”

“But, my car-”

“Will be dropped off later. I’ve already sorted it, mon ange.”

“You take such good care of me.”

Charles bent down, lips tracing her ear. “It does not end here. What do you say we take a bath when we get back?”

Yn laughed, leaning into him as his breath tickled her neck. Before she could answer, the pair of them were out of the paddock and assaulted by the media. 

“Yn. Yn. How are things between you and Daniel after your argument today? Things looked to be quite heated.” 

“Daniel and I will be fine. We haven’t spoken since our argument but it’s very hard to remain mad at someone like Daniel.”

“Charles, do you feel the same way? After all, it was your girlfriend he crashed into.”

“Obviously there was a bit of anger at seeing someone you care about crash. Um, but Yn is a driver much like anyone else. These things happen. If she forgives him then that is all that matters.”

The two drivers excuses themselves, walking past the rest of the media without stopping. Charles’ arm wrapped around her waist, holding her close. A muscle in his jaw ticked and he was relieved when they entered the safety of his car. 

“You handled that very well.”

“Could you tell I was furious?”

“No. You were very diplomatic.”

“Just another name to add to my list of people to hit with my car.”

“Char, you can’t say things like that,” giggled Yn.

“Only to you.”

#3 Lewis Hamilton

Waving at the crowd, Yn made her way across the paddock, eager for the day ahead. Another Sunday, another race, another chance at the podium. Stopping every now and then to take pictures with fans, Yn chatted animatedly with her PR manager as they discussed her upcoming media obligations. Unlike her teammate, she was much more amiable towards media appearances but only enjoyed the ones that didn’t feel more like a conference. 

“Beep beep,” a British voice called out behind her, alerting the two women clad in Red Bull polos that he was approaching. “Good morning, lovely ladies.”

He pulled up alongside them, foot slipping off the brake. Instead of coming to a stop, he felt the scooter roll over a bump in the end. Jumping off the two-wheeled contraption, he winced as his on-track rival hopped around clutching her left foot. 

“I am so sorry. I didn’t realise your foot was right there.”

“Why can’t you walk like everyone else?” She grumbled, wincing at the throbbing sensation when she put her foot flat on the ground. 

“Because it’s slower?” He offered weakly, looping her arm around his shoulders and helping her hop the remaining feet towards the Red Bull garage. 

Interested in the laces of her shoes, Yn shuffled in her seat. The top half of her racing suit had been discarded, tied around her waist, but when she sat down the sleeves had created an uncomfortable mound. P4 had been a helpful finish for the battle for Constructors but she couldn't help the disappointment at her finish. Lando, noticing her movements, asked if she was still in pain. One of the journalists called her name, preventing her from answering. 

“We noticed you limping earlier when you got out of the car. Was that in relation to the videos of Lewis helping you into the Red Bull garage earlier?” 

Lewis shifted awkwardly in his seat, offering the young woman another apologetic smile. 

“Uh, yes. Unfortunately, earlier today, Lewis ran over my foot with his scooter. I have some lovely bruising to show for it.”

“Do you blame Lewis? Do you think that was what stopped you from achieving P1? Perhaps it was deliberate.”

“Both Lewis and Toto made their way down to the Red Bull garage to apologise personally. It absolutely wasn’t sabotage. I just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. Unfortunately, yes, my boot was tied looser than usual, and putting pressure on my foot was painful in terms of braking. However, the onus is on me in terms of my performance. I don’t feel like I gave it my best today, and Max is very fast,” she finished with a laugh, earning scattered laughter from the room.

A buzz sounded in her pocket and she discreetly slipped her phone from it, checking the notification. The little race car next to the name had her smiling. 

Charles: You. Me. Celebration later? I’ll find the greasiest food

Yn: I miss you. This conference sucks

Charles: No, you miss being in the podium conference. Don’t lie to me x

Yn: That too

#4 Max Verstappen

“And that, ladies and gentlemen, is another perfect 1-2 for Red Bull! I imagine it’s smiles all around in their garage.” 

The Dutch anthem was still ringing in her ears when the 2nd place trophy was placed in her hands. Grin plastered across her face, Yn raised her trophy high in the air, relishing in the roar of her team, watching down below. Once Charles’ trophy had been securely handed over, and the presenters had scurried off the stage to safety, Max lunged forward for the large champagne bottle. Shaking it profusely, he popped the cork and aimed at his teammate.

Not even having time to reach for her own bottle, Yn was waterboarded by the bubbly liquid. Spluttering violently, she clapped her hands over her face, trying to ward off the onslaught of champagne. It was up her nose, down her throat and, most painfully, burning her right eye. 

“Max, you bastard,” she hissed, stumbling towards the edge of the stage where her engineer was waiting with a damp towel. Pressing it tight against her eye, she grumbled to herself about the dangers of champagne. 

“Oh, bebe, not another injury.” Charles murmured, glancing at her bloodshot eye. Champagne rolled off the tip of his hat, flicking the tip of her nose. 

Max bounded over next, laughing in elation at his win. He apologised at the sight of her eye but it felt a tad insincere when he followed it with, “They should call you the driver’s champion of non-race related injuries.”

“More like the champion of idiotic work colleagues.” 

“Don’t be like that. You love me really.” Max pulled her in for a headlock, wet arms wrapping around her head. Yn stomped on his foot when another drop of champagne rolled into her stinging eye. 

Fiddling with the cord of her microphone, Yn’s high from achieving P2 faded with each passing moment. Winning a podium was euphoric until she remembered it entailed a ninety minutes press-conference afterwards. Ignoring how badly she wanted food, Yn leaned over, whispering to Max, who looked as equally bored as she.

Charles’ hand slipped from her thigh as she moved, and he shook his head with a smile when he caught her gossiping. Her teammate grinned at whatever she said before the pair of them heard her name being called. Snapping to attention, Yn pulled away from Max and sat upright in her chair.

“Apologies but would you mind repeating the question?” Yn asked sheepishly. 

“Following your recent accidents at the hands of your fellow racers, there’s rumours flying around that the male members of the Grid are opposed to your presence on the track. Care to comment?” 

Yn leant forward towards her mic. “I must admit I’m starting to believe these rumours,” she let out a small laugh, informing everyone she was joking. “No, no. In all seriousness, I do seem to be getting attacked an awful lot by my fellow racers this season - uh, most recently was being blinded by Max after the podium - but I don’t believe there is any animosity behind it. They’ve all been very apologetic. I’m just unfortunate.” 

“Mon amour maladroite,” whispered Charles but the microphone picked it up regardless. 

Fake frowning at him, she reiterated for the crowd. “There’s a lot of love between me and the rest of the drivers so these are all just inCHIdents.” 

Charles looked at her in shock, offended by her mockery. “Hey!” He whined. “I’m the only person not trying to sabotage you.”

Yn pressed an apologetic kiss to his cheek and the cameras lapped up the rare glimpse of affection between the two during a race weekend. 

Charles' Revenge

A race in Monaco meant that the majority of drivers were able to spend the week beforehand at home. Padding across the living room barefoot, Yn made her way towards the kitchen. Wrapping her arms around Charles’ waist, she pressed a kiss between his shoulder blades. He turned in her arms, beaming down at her in his oversized hoodie. After her racing suit, this look was his favourite. 

“Thank you for helping me with this, handsome.”

“Help you? It was my idea, mon coeur. Especially because you would not let me run them off the track.” 

“Because that is…” she prompted.

“Dangerous,” he finished with a pout. 

The doorbell alerted them to the arrival of their first dinner guest, and she smirked to herself before flitting over to the door. Max stood there nervously, a bouquet of flowers in hand. She stepped aside to let him in, and thanked him when he handed the large flower bunch to her. 

“To apologise for blinding you, and to thank you for dinner.” 

“That’s very sweet of you, Max,” she inhaled the sweet fragrance of the flowers, almost feeling bad for deceiving him. He probably deserved this the least but her boyfriend needed a way to release his anger. “I’m going to put them in some water. Charles is in the main room with some sport thingy on the television. Gin and tonic?” 

“Just one.” He nodded, placing his discarded shoes on the rack before sloping off in search of the brunette driver. 

Hands clasped, Charles and Yn placed dishes of pasta in front of Lando, Daniel, Lewis and Max, smiling when they thanked them. Yn was well-known for her cooking throughout the paddock, often cooking sweet treats in the week and bringing them in for the Grid to share. Having a birthday on a racing weekend was a much coveted holiday because it meant a homemade cake from the Red Bull racer.

Watching as each of them took a big mouthful, she watched them all grimace in disgust when they swallowed. Taking a sip of wine before speaking, she informed them of the true reason behind their meal. “I lied to you. I didn’t cook dinner for you this evening.”

The four of them turned to face the devious Ferrari driver looking innocently at them, horror plastered across their faces. “Charles did.”

Friday - Practice 

“Four F1 drivers are reportedly suffering from food poisoning. Perhaps a racing dinner gone wrong? They’re still set to race on Sunday, just two days from now, but images of them have emerged from today’s free practice, and the four look particularly under the weather.”

Seated opposite her Team Principal, Yn fiddled with her fingers as Christian berated her. Shame crept up the back of her neck and for the fifth time that day, she wished Charles was with her. Hands perched on his hips, Christian stared down at her, waiting for an explanation. 

“I didn’t think they’d be ill for this long?” She defended weakly. “I just thought they’d suffer through a gross meal and that would be the end of it. I bought pizza afterwards!”

“You let them eat Charles’ food! What did you think would happen? The boy can’t cook.” 

“Oops…?”

Christian sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose. “You could’ve at least left Max out of it.”

“He blinded me!”

“And I’d do it again!” Max groaned, clutching his stomach. Sweat beaded his forehead despite the cool compress resting atop it.

“The alternative was Charles pushing you off the track,” she shot back.

“He’d have to catch me first,” argued Max. 

The two drivers broke out into good-natured bickering, voices raising as they got more heated. Sighing yet again, the Red Bull principal sank into his chair and muttered to himself, “I’m working with children.”

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A/N: I'm not sure what this is (laugh) I apologise but writing fics isn't my strong suit. I should probably stick to smau's lol

On that note, requests for F1 smau's are open. You can see who I write for on my masterlist :)

[unoislazy]

Your Touch

Mizu x Reader

Summary: Mizu is touchstarved. That’s it, that’s the entire thing.

A/n: Next story will hopefully be “Caged Bird” part 3, then I will finally post one of the asks that I took an interest in.

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You looked at Mizu, her dark hair pulled up into the high bun it was always in. The loose curl that she always kept out no matter what the occasion, lightly bounced as she walked by, focused on whatever task she had to finish.

You watched and looked on with curiosity, you wondered if she had ever done a different hairstyle on her hair before. You thought a braid might compliment her features, or even half up, you had many ideas and suddenly you were determined to try them.

Well that would require Mizu’s permission first.

“Hey Mizu.” You began, drawing out each syllable of her name to quickly pass on the hint that what you were going to say wasn’t serious.

She paused for a moment, putting down a large box and wiping her brow before looking at you. Her eyebrow rose ever so slightly, her curiosity was piqued despite her not saying a word.

“Have you ever worn your hair differently?” You asked. She simply stared at you for a moment before shrugging,

“A few different times. I just can't really afford to when I’m doing ‘samurai’ things.” She said in air quotes. She never enjoyed calling herself a samurai, for one thing most of the time she purely acted out of the name of revenge not honor. Another, she’s a woman.

Personally, you didn’t really care about the rules of a samurai, you respected them and their ambition but the ones you had met in the past were more focused on their honor over anything else. It had only hit you when you had met Taigen, he was so obsessed with reclaiming his honor like a disowned child that he practically abandoned his engagement. You didn’t understand it, what good is honor if it can be taken away so quickly.

You looked up at Mizu who seemed to be deep in thought. You figured she was just thinking of the different styles she had done before, but her face held a certain sadness as she thought. You began to realize that there was a story attached to the topic of hairstyles that you knew better than to bring up.

“Have you ever braided your hair?” You asked, regaining her attention. She thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. It wasn’t a common style for the time so you weren’t exactly that surprised.

“Would you like to try one?” You asked. You had definitely piqued her interest, her eyes shifted ever so slightly wider as you patted the spot in front of you.

She obliged, sitting down and facing away from you, her legs in a crossed manner with her hands peacefully resting on her knees.

She almost seemed a bit eager to try the hairstyle which honestly excited you a bit, it’s not often Mizu openly gets excited about something, especially with her very subtle expressions.

She sat before you, her slim figure not too far away from you as you gently reached up and grabbed the hair tie that seemed to hold Mizu’s entire hairstyle together. You’d never understand how she did it with so much hair, it never made sense to you. Her sleek dark hair unfolded, a healthy glow could be seen throughout it, she took care of it despite it being up all the time.

With one hand you ever so gently began to rake through her hair, making sure there were no knots that might get in the way of the process. Because of this, you noticed Mizu stiffen for a moment, a shiver could visibly be seen going throughout her body.

Having seen this your hand jerked back, not wanting to make her uncomfortable. Before you could say anything she turned her head just enough to look at you from over her shoulder and said in a low tone,

“Keep going.”

You paused for a moment as her words sunk in. The way she spoke to you was no different than any other time and yet for some reason… it felt different. You decided to pay no mind to it as your hand returned to her head, slowly dragging it through and sending shivers throughout Mizu’s body yet again.

Despite this, she sat calmly making no other movements other than the occasional twitch here and there as your hands glided through her hair. Having her hair done was a pleasure she never thought twice about, but the way you so delicately pulled at her hair, twisting it and shaping it as if she was some piece of art, it made her feel cared for in a way she hadn’t felt in a long time.

You carefully separated her hair, overlapping the pieces in a rhythmic manner, cautiously pulling the groups of hair but never hard enough to hurt. It didn’t take long before you had finished, you tied it all together with the hair tie that she used before, letting go of your work.

“How does it look?” She asked, now turning to fully face you. There was almost some sort of innocence that shone through Mizu's expression, one that seemed to say she genuinely cared how she looked. It was kind of sweet to see her usually stoic and harsh exterior break for a moment, it showed you who Mizu really was even if it was for only a few seconds.

You had seen Mizu with her hair down before, maybe not often, but you had seen it. Something was missing.

You stared at her for a moment, a confused look riddled your face before it hit you, the curl.

You gently reached your hand up towards Mizu’s face, one finger looping around the curl that had been hidden away underneath all of the other pieces of hair. Not expecting this, Mizu froze, letting you do what you needed to do but also not knowing how to react otherwise.

Once you had fixed the curl, you moved back a bit to reassess your work. You smiled, finally happy with how it looked.

“Perfect.” You said, proud of the work you had accomplished. Mizu was happy enough just taking your word for it but she was still curious to see how she looked. She drew her sword partially, only just enough to be able to see at least a little bit of her reflection on it. From what she could see, she truly didn’t mind the look.

“So, what do you think?” You asked, patiently waiting for her answer. You watched as a very small smile graced her features as she said,

“It looks good.”

She put her blade away, turning to look back at you as she brushed a few loose strands out her face.

“I wasn’t expecting you to be so… gentle.” She admitted quite plainly. Her hands rested on her lap as she thought back to a time when someone else had done her hair.

“Anytime my mother did my hair, gentle didn’t seem to be a word in her vocabulary.” She joked, a melancholic yet reminiscent look made its way onto her face as she thought back to the many times her mother had scolded her for looking to feminine.

“Being rough will only get you so far.” You responded, not really realizing how that sounded. It earned a small snicker from Mizu but it still went over your head regardless. It had got you thinking, the blue eyed woman constantly trained, having faced the several hardships in life at such a young age that no one would even dream of facing. She had to be tough in every way possible if she had any hope of surviving.

But you were determined to show her, in your own way, that you can let your guard down every once in a while.

“Let me see your hands.” You ordered pretty out of nowhere.

“What?” Mizu responded, clearly taken by surprise by your sudden demand.

“Let me see your hands.” You repeated, putting one of yours out and gesturing for her to place hers on top.

Her eyebrows wrinkled with uncertainty, having not a singular clue what you were planning to do, but she still did what you told her to anyway. Her confused expression remained as she placed her hand on yours, her palm facing towards the sky. With your free hand you gently traced the lines on Mizushand, slowly going over each callous that you could see. Just as you had expected, her hands were coarse and rough, tense from constant overworking and pressure, or maybe they were tense because she wasn’t used to the feeling of someone else, you couldn’t tell.

At first she didn’t know what to do except watch your hands.

“What are you doing?” She asked, confused what the point of this was.

You continued to trace lines and pointless circles around her hand, occasionally gently massaging different points.

“You’re really tense.” You pointed out, “I figured this might help you relax a bit.”

Mizu sat still for a bit as you continued, still not easing up in the slightest. Having her hair done was one thing, she had it done before so she knew at least somewhat how to react, but this was something different. You looked up at her, noticing her unbroken stare before smiling at her.

“Relax.” You calmly instructed her.

She closed her eyes, eventually relaxing into the feeling of your touch just like she had done before. She had truly forgotten what it felt like to be touched in a way that didn’t result in a bruise or broken rib.

You continued your motions, occasionally putting slight pressure on different areas. However in one area you had put just a bit too much pressure, resulting in a noise that sounded like a moan escape from Mizu. You immediately stopped, taking your hand away as you apologized,

“Sorry, I didn’t mean to-“

You looked up at her, ready to continue apologizing but you were met with a serious yet… almost affectionate gaze as she said,

“Don’t stop,” She began, her voice was quiet and relaxed so at least you knew your work was paying off.

“It feels nice.”

There it was, that feeling again. You averted your gaze, not able to handle making eye contact with her while also processing your very wild feelings at that moment. One thing about Mizu was she never truly realized just how attractive she was, she always deemed herself a demon or a monster because that’s what she was taught to believe.

But you saw past that and because of that, things that Mizu didn’t even think twice about doing, would nearly send you into a coma just because it was her doing it.

She had no idea the power she had over you just from a few simple words, and you had no idea the power you had over her just from a simple gentle touch.

You continued on like she had told you, smoothing out the tension in her hand the best you could without any prior training on the subject. Eventually you had switched over to her other hand which was somehow more coarse than the first. You couldn’t help but admire the amount of time and strength that went into forming such things.

As you continued, you could tell Mizu was refraining from making any noises. In all honesty, it was nothing you hadn’t heard before, she’s been in pain enough times around you for you to get used to her whimpering and groaning.

Except this time was different, usually the noises she made were from a place of pain and discomfort.

However, this time, they seemed to come from a place of pleasure.

Caused by you.

“It’s okay.” You began, refusing to look up at her. “The more you let out the more I know I’m doing the right thing.” You encouraged, and sure one could say it was for a selfish reason but really who could blame you.

You could hear her continue to refrain, but over a small amount of time you could hear her a little bit more. Your heart raced as you continued, the act you were partaking in was nowhere near as sensual as it sounded and yet it still felt so intimate. If anything that’s all you wanted it to be, but that was a line you’d dare not cross, at least not yet.

A little more time had passed, you had eased out all the tension you felt in her hands and let go of her. Almost immediately she began to miss your warm and gentle embrace, having returned to her harsh and cold reality. But really, it wasn’t as cold as she had thought because you were still there, right in front of her, looking at her as if she was the only human to have ever existed.

“There now, do you feel better?” You asked quietly, a bit sheepish considering the amount of thoughts that had crossed your mind that you would never say out loud.

Mizu rubbed her hand absentmindedly, her face seemed a bit glazed over like she had been so lost in her thoughts and she wasn’t ready to be a normal person again. Once she had finally, fully, snapped back to reality she nodded.

“Thanks.” Was all she said before you two sat in silence. The tension was practically thick enough to cut through but neither of you wanted to be the one to take that leap, not without knowing for certain it was one they could even take in the first place. Up until now, sure you two had been close, but you had never gotten so close physically. You wanted to, she wanted to, but neither of you wanted to own up to it. She claimed she didn’t need distractions, and you claimed it was a feeling that would flutter away just as quickly as it came.

Well you were both wrong.

You both sat there, not looking at each other, not saying anything before you decided to gain the courage to say,

“Mizu?” You practically whispered. She looked towards you, finally taking her attention off of her hand which she continued to rub, trying to emulate the feeling of your touch but to no avail.

“Yes?” She responded. You very slowly inched a bit closer to her, not trying to make your idea or intention too obvious but she already had a few possibilities in mind on how this might unfold.

None of which she was complaining about.

“Can I… can I touch you again?”

That was all you asked. Sure you had literally just put down her hand but it was the fact that you had even asked that sent the same shivers down Mizu’s spine. She went quiet for a moment, not knowing what to respond with.

She truly had never been asked for permission to do anything before, not in this regard at least, and it shocked her a bit.

It somehow became the most intimate question you could’ve asked.

She nodded, not saying a word as she continued to look at you. It was as if she was trying to memorize your features, as if she was trying to burn them into her retinas so she'd never forget.

Your hand very carefully went towards her, cupping the side of her face as if it would break with too much pressure. She slowly began to lean into your touch, the warm feeling returning quickly as she let her harsh exterior down yet again, feeling uncommonly safe because of your touch. From this position she looked towards you, her hand making its way up to your face, and brushing a few hairs out of the way before asking,

“Can I kiss you?”

Her voice was raspy and low, just above a whisper. She waited patiently for your answer as you both sat in silence before you nodded in response. With that, her hand that had brushed the hairs from your face, slowly made its way to the back of your neck as you both leaned forward and-

“Hey, I found this place that sells food down the road and I- Oh. You’re here.” Taigen had barged into the room, not a singular care in the world as he looked at Mizu with his usual disdain. By this point you had already jumped back from her, being startled by Taigens sudden presence while in such an intimate moment.

With a cold glare Mizu looked towards Taigen,

“What do you want?” She spat. She could get over him annoyingly asking for a duel every now and then but ruining this one moment for her was too far. She finally felt safe and warm in someone else’s embrace and the same man who ruined everything else for her had to come back and fuck something else up.

Before either of them could say any other ‘kind’ words to each other you very quickly made your way to exit the room, not wanting to think about the awkward moment any more than you’d have to.

“I’m going to go… find some things for Ringo. I’ll see you later Mizu, bye Taigen.” You said, very quickly making your way out of the room, leaving both Mizu and Taigen together. Mizu had watched you leave with a certain sadness that you could only really see in her eyes, the rest of her face remained as stoic as ever as she turned back to Taigen.

“New hair style? You look oddly feminine wi-“ The man began, pointing towards her still braided hair.

“Say another word and you’ll lose an arm.” She threatened.

“Noted.”

[ravenna-reid]

The Jade Ghost

Blue Spirit Zuko x Bloodbender Reader

This story is completely different to what I usually do, but I've been watching Avatar: The Last Airbender lately and really hope ya'll love Zuko as much as I do.

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

It was insufferable. Zuko, the crowned prince of the fire nation, was now a fugitive and stuck in some sort of village begging for spare change on the ground with Uncle Iroh. If that wasn't embarrassing enough, those who decided to mock him and his uncle made it all the more worse, the deep, unsettling anger within him turning into an unhinged rage. So he waited.

And when the sun would set and the darkness came to help hide Zuko's doings, he adorned his blue mask. The oxtail sabers in each hand felt good, like he'd gained some sort of control over his situation. Then he'd prowl through the night as though he was a ghost. The Blue Spirit. Taking change and food from those that looked like they had enough, or taking revenge on those that had mocked him or his uncle. He'd swiftly managed to throw one of the men that spat at Iroh into a wooden barrel. Splinters decorated the floor as well as the change the man had taken from them earlier in the day. Zuko grabbed the gold pieces and slipped them into his pocket. As he turned down the street, an opulent looking home being his next target, a blurred figure metres before him quickly caught his attention.

Zuko ducked his head to the side, just missing a dagger as it found its home in the wooden beam beside his head. Zuko turned on his heel to see three hooded men coming his way, armed and ferocious. He was able to swiftly disarm the first thug, throwing him into the wall of a nearby home. The other two put up a better fight. Zuko was focused on pinning the second ones arms, given he happened to be an Earthbender, but focusing his attention on the man almost made him forget the third thug. As Zuko turned and expected the blow to his head, something glinted in the air. Flashed as quick as a light. A swoosh sound came after it and the third man hit the ground hard.

Zuko dealt a devastating strike to the Earthbender before training his attention onto another person. Someone new. Adorned in an emerald green robe, her hair was pulled back into a tight bun, a single gold chop stick running through it. Her face, however, was concealed. An immaculate mask that looked as though it was carved from jade sat on her face, a mask almost similar to Zuko's. Steady eyes watched the third man through the jade mask as she spun a long, gold staff between her fingers. Her eyes flickered up to Zuko though, and he barely caught what she said. "Behind you."

The Earthbender was on his feet and tore two large boulders from the pavement either side of him. Zuko slipped past each boulder as they were thrown at him. After that, Zuko's next movements were a blur as he, the two thugs, and the Jade Ghost all fought relentlessly. She seemed to be helping, so he let her help...for now.

The Earthbender managed to get his first hit of the night and knocked both Zuko and the Jade Ghost to the ground. Zuko was on his feet, ready to attack yet again, but then something happened. Something odd. Something Zuko couldn't explain.

The Earthbender's arms twitched before they tangled together. Then, with an agonising cry he dropped to the ground. Zuko's eyes cut over to the girl that laid beside him. Focus was evident in her eyes as she manoeuvred her hands in a fascinating way. Hand flat, resting in the centre of her face before she lowered her arm and moved it in a wave like formation. Zuko clutched onto his sabers. Felt his hot, laboured breath against his mask. The Earthbender suddenly fell unconscious...and then Zuko realised.

Bloodbending.

The Jade Ghost panted as she got to her feet and picked up her staff. Turning to run, she was met with the ocean blue dragon mask. He was tall, dressed in black, ready for a confrontation as he gripped onto his sabers. The Jade Ghost just stopped herself before bumping into him.

"Who are you?" He asked, tone severe.

"Hey, I'm not asking you questions. Am I?"

"I suggest you answer." He threatened.

"Listening, I've been watching you. You're not bad...you've helped a lot of my people whilst wearing your little mask. Like me. So how about this..."

She slipped down an alleyway and with the shake of his head, Zuko quickly followed. She didn't want a confrontation, not when the sun was soon to rise and she didn't see the man in the mask as a threat.

As she sprinted and took the chance to look over her shoulder, relief spread through her chest. The Blue Spirit wasn't there. But suddenly, he was jumping down from a nearby roof. He grabbed onto her as he dropped down, and the pair tumbled over the ground before coming to a stop. The Jade Ghost tried her staff before it was knocked from her hands. Then, she resorted to using hand-to-hand combat. The strikes were fast and precise, but Zuko was just as fast and precise as her. She slipped his arm behind his back and put him in a hold before he broke out and pinned her against the wall.

Masks centimetres from each other, he leant in to ask another question.

"That was bloodbending, wasn't it?"

"Wanna find out?" She hissed.

His determination faltered. They stood and watched each other, and Zuko felt something he couldn't ignore. What was it? Was he impressed? Was he admiring her? He almost wanted to hit his head against the wall.

Suddenly, a light, green dust was thrown into his face. An irritable itch began in his eyes as he quickly let go of her. And just like that, she slipped away into the night. Just like a ghost. As he tried to search for her, Zuko quickly became annoyed. Dumbfounded. Curious.

Zuko made it back to the sorry place him and his uncle were calling 'home' for a while, hiding his mask and sabers inside of a deep crevice in the house they were staying in.

"Where did you go?" Iroh asked, sipping his fourth cup of tea as he watched his nephew angrily enter the room. The sun was filtering into the room, it's beams warm and welcoming.

"I had to clear my head. Tell me uncle, do you know anything about the Jade Ghost?"

"The Jade Ghost? Hmm," His uncle stroked his beard as he sifted through his memories. "Nope, never heard of him."

"Her." Zuko corrected as he stared out the window and wondered where she went. Who she was. How she learnt to bloodbend.

"Until next time Jade Ghost."

[dragonmuse]

Keep It In The Box : An Essay on OFMD Season 2 and the Failure to Heal

(here in is my season two reaction. It contains many many spoilers. It's also about 3k words long so you know what you're getting into.)

“See, I have a system for dealing with all the terrible things I've seen. There's a box in my mind, and I put the things in the box..” -Frenchie, Season 2 of Our Flag Means Death

…..and then he never opens it. Chekov’s locked box has no key in season two.

On first watch, it seemed clear to me that Frenchie’s declaration was a narrative plant. Clearly the whole season would be about that box of pain and trauma being opened, sorted through and at least the beginning of healing. The show had developed a reputation after season one of being kind and focused on queer narratives of healing from childhood. Ed and Stede’s parallels in their childhood traumas were frequently on display through season one and were repeated in flashback throughout season two. Jim’s season one arc about becoming someone who doesn’t think just of revenge and can now forge meaningful connections was profound, beautiful and often funny. Izzy is an antagonist because he doesn’t want Ed to move on or stop acting like the trauma-response version of himself. The antagonist wants to stop healing. The point is to grow, to change, to learn how to love. It’s one of the things that made season one work for me at the time, despite reservations about pacing and tone.

So naturally season two should follow suit. It’s a kind show! About healing and falling in love!

For the first several episodes, the remaining crew on the Revenge go through a gauntlet of trauma, forced to do and receive violence at Ed’s whims as he careens from self-destructive behavior to self-destructive behavior. This is the wounding setup. It was dark, but it seemed like it would have a payoff and at first it did.

Perhaps one of the most beautiful moments of the season comes in one of the small respites in those early episodes as Jim recounts Pinnochio to Fang to soothe him through his grief. That was the show that I expected. The kindness of that moment struck me very deeply. It gave me some understanding of Archie too, who seems to fall for Jim right at that moment.

That scene is the show season one promised. Season two led with packing Frenchie’s box full to bursting. Here is the fight to the death between lovers, there is a first mate who is mutilated and rotting in the very walls (the rot of the Revenge itself), and there is the storm of Ed’s rage and pain that threatens to consume all of them.

So surely these remaining episodes would concentrate on finding the humor in healing from those moments. That is the setup. Frenchie has a box. The box must eventually open.

Except time and again, all the characters who suffered are told that the only way to deal with what they’ve been through is to stick it in the box and never open it again.

Pete tells Lucius that he’s unable to move on and needs to let it go. Izzy has a story about a shark. Ed’s apology to the crew which doesn’t even contain the words ‘I’m sorry’ is just…accepted. I kept waiting and waiting for a meaningful apology to the people Ed had hurt the worst with his actions, but it seems all we get is Fang saying ‘eh, no problem, I got to hit you back so I feel better’.

The playful theme of ‘pirates are just violent sometimes’ from season one becomes a grinding horror machine in season two when every atrocity visited on someone is forgiven because the narrative needs it to be. Ed and Stede spend more time making amends with each other over the bloodless night on the beach than either of them spend trying to repent for their actions towards anyone else.

And let’s talk about Ed. Arguably this season pivots on his narrative, on his path to healing and growth. A path that starts at a very low point. His moment in the gravy basket, deciding he wants to live because there are still things to live for is so great! So one might assume that what would follow would be him pursuing those things, making amends, making connections. He and Stede have a wonderful moment, talking about being whim prone and how they’ll work to avoid that, build a relationship by going slower.

Yet, at no point do either of them stop following whims. They never heal or learn from what’s happened to them. They both keep running from thing to thing, particularly Ed. It’s a whim to sleep with Stede, it’s a whim to run off to fish, and the finale gives us just more of their whims. Ed drops fishing as fast as he picked it up. He finds those leathers in the ocean, murdering the symbolism of leaving them behind. Even the inn is a whim, one of those things Ed decided he’d be good at without evidence. And Stede joins him in that without a single on screen conversation about it ahead of the moment.

Ed needs to heal himself and to do that he needs to confront what he’s done and do the work to heal the wound. Instead, he doesn’t meaningfully apologize to anyone, besides Stede and Fang. Despite Izzy’s dying words (we’ll get to that), not only do we never see the crew caring about Ed, working to make him family in the same way they do with Fang and even Izzy, he also doesn’t choose to stay with them. So what is the point? Where is the healing? Or does even Ed, beloved main character, have to live with it all stuffed in a box?

He ends the season in the leathers he threw away, in a relationship that’s barely stabilized, going to live in a house which we are told by the narrative (in that they are very very clearly paralleling Anne and Mary with Ed and Stede or why do we even get that whole Who’s Afraid of Virginia Woolf? episode) will only end in them setting fire to each other to stay warm.

But Vee, I hear you cry, it’s a ROM-COM. This is all meant to be ha-ha funny and you are taking it so seriously!

Cool beans. Then why the hell isn���t it funny? Healing is often filled with comedy because people deal with pain with humor. You can heal and laugh at the same time. The finale especially is almost entirely devoid of laughs, almost entirely devoid of joy until the last minute for that matter. The episode that should show off with a flourish how far everyone’s come, mostly serves to show that no one has grown.

Okay that’s Ed. I want to talk about Lucius next. Our former audience surrogate (that’s taken away in season two when he doesn’t get enough screen time to perform that role and no one takes his place) really goes through the wringer. He experiences many many terrible things, including sexual assault (which is made into a grimace-laugh line that doesn’t take away from it’s seriousness because oh hey, that can be done as it turns out). He’s nervous, he’s smoking, it’s clear he’s suffering.

There’s a beautiful moment where Pete tells him ‘hey, I was also in pain. I grieved’ and that’s great. It’s good that Pete sets a boundary about Lucius not obsessing over the past to the point of occluding their future.

We even get our comedic moment where Lucius pushes Ed off the boat (still not apology, but I’d lost hope for that by then) and that doesn’t help enough. So Izzy comes in with a shark and the advice that you just have to move on.

Just…you know. Play pretend. Forget.

Shove it in a box. Ed didn’t take my leg, a shark did. Ed didn’t kill you, a shark did. Live with the person that tried to murder you because it’s your fault you dangled your leg over the side of a boat. That is the show’s message. I thought on first watch, that surely this would also come back up and be explained that you can’t live that way, that that is no way to heal. That it would become clear that this was no way through. You cannot make everything into sharks.

Lucius can move forward and still carry pain. He can still want a meaningful apology and still want to talk to his lover about what he’s dealing with while moving forward toward a brighter future.

And what of the flirtatious promise of relationships and connections being the way to heal? Look to Oluwande and Jim, whose heartfelt romance from season one was relegated to the bins of history in favor of a narrative that made him a brother Jim once had sex with. They could have had Archie AND Oluwande, who in turn could also have Zheng, but that never seems to be an option. With a single short conversation, they are broken up with, despite a brief tease at the birthday that they still ‘dance’ together, it never actually manifests. Jim and Archie never talk about what they went through. It’s swept under the rug as fast as knives are lowered.

Lucius also no longer flirts with other people, the solution to his pain is to propose and get married (but not too married, lest we forget that they’re two men, they don’t even get to be husbands or even the more respectful mates, no. They’re mateys.) This season proposes that the only happy endings are monogamous ones, where no one talks about anything painful that went before.

To ensure that message, beyond assuring the success of Oluwande and Zheng’s relationship, Jim and Archie almost entirely disappear from the narrative. Sorry you guys were given layers of trauma and no growth and not even much to do this season, we need to make sure that everyone remembers Oluwande is the break in Zheng’s day so when he says that to her five minutes later we know exactly what he’s referencing. No time for Archie to learn what an apology is or for Jim to get one line in with Oluwande that isn’t affirming their newfound broship. Must do more flashbacks to things we just did two episodes ago!

The show even dangles the conversation of the Revenge being a safe space. Why would any of them ever feel safe when the man who tortured them is allowed to walk among them and they are expected to forgive and forget? What’s safe about that? The ship is never made safe for any of them, but that’s never addressed.

And Zheng! Amazing, hysterically funny Zheng! She loses her ships, her entire way of life, the kingdom she built for herself and then…she doesn’t even get to captain the Revenge. We don’t know what becomes of her fleet, of her plans, her ambitions. Don’t worry about it, she has a romantic partner and isn’t that what every lady wants in the end?

(But Vee, I hear you cry again, there will be a season three! Maybe it will be All About Zheng! To which I say: then why did they present us with the most series finale feeling episode ever? If there’s more, I have no idea where it’s going. BUT VEE: BUTTONS AS SEAGULL ON THE GR- Fine. It’s time.)

Let’s talk about Izzy Hands.

Izzy manages more healing than anyone else this season. He reaches his lowest point, suicidal in the bowels of a ship that’s become a prison (very much in contrast to Ed’s suicidal low). The person he loves most in the world has shredded him physically and emotionally (and if you’re in the camp that thinks Izzy deserves the abuse that Ed gave to him, I would really like you to sit quietly with yourself and ask why you think there is ever anything anyone can do to deserve that treatment). He’s low, he shoots Ed to protect everyone, and then seems to plan to drink himself to death, mourning his losses.

And then another beautiful moment! The crew move past their own pain to help him. They work together for the first time and it’s to give Izzy mobility back. He treasures it. He cries over it. He uses that kindness extended to him to reach a new understanding of Stede and help him succeed, doing the work to make real amends. He sings in drag, he’s vulnerable and beautiful, celebrating the side of himself that he must’ve loathed in the first season. He’s an elder queer man, coming into himself.

He never gets an apology though. (‘Sorry about your leg’ without eye contact is not an apology. There is no responsibility taking, no acknowledgement of the weeks of torture that came with it.) Izzy also never really has an honest conversation with anyone about what it means that the man he loves punished him so severely for the crime of trying to protect the crew (yes, lest we forget, Izzy lost his leg because he was trying to keep Ed from re-traumatizing the crew and himself).

Izzy does all this work, but even he’s not allowed to take it out of the box. It’s a shark, not Ed. Ed is just ‘complicated’ (the language of abuse here is so upsetting and I think not even intentional).

And then he dies. His last act? To apologize to the man who tortured him and shot at him. To have done all this work, to take on all the blame. And then die.

In a rom com.

This show ends in a profoundly unfunny moment of telling the audience: this is the one character that did the work, that made amends, that tried his hardest to accept the parts of himself that he had a hard time embracing and formerly embittered him. He’s fully accepted his queerness and turned it into beautiful music. He’s disabled, and he worked hard to accept that. The man he loves will never love him back, so he worked hard to make Stede able to meet Ed on an even playing field. The Giving Tree gave up its limbs and its trunk, and it’s not even allowed to be a stump to sit on.

Kill the queer elder, who has managed to figure out how to live and in his own way how to heal. Kill him before he manages to teach anyone else how to meaningfully move forward (he almost gets it with Lucius, almost, but it’s meant to be rule of three, you know. Cigarette..shark…and then…and then fuck it, Lucius doesn’t even get to say a word at his funeral).

The message of this season again and again is that there is no healing, just moving forward. Like a shark. Like a bird that never lands.

That is not a kind show.

Season two is not a kind season.

It splinters people up and jams them back together without purpose or reason. It tells everyone who experiences pain that they should shove it in a box and not deal with it. No one who really needs one gets an apology of any sincerity. No one puts in the work to gain forgiveness. (Ed wearing a onesie is not The Work. Ed fixing a door is not The Work. Ed broke people that the show wants us to care about. Ed never does the work of making those amends. He fires off a Notes app apology at best. After all, it’s what he told himself via Hornigold in the gravy basket: you move on or you blow your brains out! Good thing he took his own advice and therefore had to change nothing to get his just rewards.

I would’ve taken just fifteen minutes of Ed trying to actually make amends. It could’ve been hilarious! Imagine awkward Ed trying to dance around what he’s doing with Jim and the two of them having a knife throwing competition about it. Or him and Frenchie attempting to make music together, writing a song about the raids they went on! It’s not just the crew robbed of their healing because of this, it’s Ed himself. He never meaningfully changes or makes amends. How is he any different at the end of the finale then he is standing on the edge of that cliff with Hornigold? He hasn’t moved on, he hasn’t healed. He tried one thing (fishing) that doesn’t fucking work and then he runs right back.

No one leaves this season better than they went into it. They’ve lost an elder queer, they’ve lost their joyous and queer polyamory, they’ve lost a chance for meaningful reconciliation with Ed and Ed lost any chance of looking like he gave shit if they did. Stede grows enough to accept the crew’s beliefs as important and then leaves them behind without a care.

Izzy gets a beautiful speech about piracy being larger than yourself. Ed and Stede, within twenty minutes of that speech, leave piracy. They are incapable of giving themselves to something bigger, apparently. They haven’t learned to be a part of a community. They haven’t healed from their childhood trauma or their fresher wounds. They are still just following their own whims.

Zheng’s life work is in tatters, but it’s fine, she has love. Oluwande and Jim aren’t together, but it's fine because they both have dedicated monogamous partners. Lucius was deeply scarred by what happened, never recovers much of his first season personality, but hey he got-well it’s not married exactly- but you know good enough!

Frenchie, who has a box forever locked in his head, is captain. Because the key to success is to lock it all in a box and never open it. What a message. What a show. Conceal, don’t feel. Smile because it’s a happy ending. Don’t mourn the dead, don’t try to tell people what happened to you (they will literally run away or cry too hard to listen and really you’re just bumming them out), and any meaningful change you make is only rewarded with death.

Frenchie is now a pirate captain with a box in his head full of trauma that’s never been opened, leading a crew with more wounds than scars. Wonder how that could turn out? Wonder how many years before he might want to retire and then happen to run across a gentleman pirate. As if no one learned anything at all.

[grayson10yearslater]

YOU DON'T KNOW GRAYSON: The Construction of Dick Grayson's Identity in Grayson Act I

INTRODUCTION: WHO AM I?

Like many of us, I first heard of Spyral in Dick-centric hurt/comfort fics. In these fics, the focus is often on how lonely and miserable Dick was during his time as Agent 37. How even after he became Nightwing again, his brothers never forgive him for letting them think he was dead. How the relationship between him and Bruce has been poisoned forever because Bruce savagely beat him and forced him to play dead. Usually Jason, Tim, and/or Damian discover Batcave footage of Bruce’s beat down of Dick, find out Dick was forced against his will into going undercover, and shower Dick with the love and forgiveness he deserves (and also probably kick Bruce’s ass a little). I want to be very clear. I eat these fics up for breakfast. Part of the reason I was so eager to read Grayson myself was for the hurt/comfort fodder.

But Grayson, in tone and execution, is nothing like the fanfics I read. There’s whump fodder, yes, but there is also humor and charm and new gratifying heartfelt relationships built within. Imagine my surprise when I read Grayson for the first time and found that Bruce and Dick’s relationship is not strained and bitter, but actually very tender and nostalgic. Both during and after the infamous Nightwing #30, there is so much affection between them. What got lost in fandom telephone? If Grayson isn’t about Dick at his absolute lowest, being the most miserable and alone sadsack to ever sack, what is it about?

The promo material gives us the easy pitch: identity. “YOU THINK YOU KNOW NIGHTWING…” the ad tells us, “YOU DON’T KNOW DICK.” For my money, this might be one of the best DC house ads of all time. It so perfectly captures the theme and the tone of Grayson. It’s in your face, it’s tongue-in-check, and it is so excited to explore Dick Grayson as a character.

But then the question remains: Who is Dick Grayson? The last six pages of Nightwing #30, written by Grayson co-writers Tom King and Tim Seeley, ends with Dick himself telling us.

“Who am I? I’ve been a lot of things. I was a son. I was a performer. An acrobat. A member of Haly’s Circus. Part of a family, a legacy. Then came Tony Zucco. He murdered my parents, and I was alone. I was angry. A sad, angry boy looking for revenge. Any revenge. Then came Bruce Wayne. He found me, and I wasn’t alone anymore. I was his ward. I was a son again. He trained me. Focused me. And I was Robin. A colleague. A hero. Partner to the Batman, the Dark Knight of Gotham. I was part of a family again. Batgirl. Commissioner James Gordon. Alfred Pennyworth. I grew older. I became a hero in my own right. I was Nightwing. I was a teacher. A mentor. To Jason…Tim…Damian…and eventually, when I was needed, I was Batman. I was part of a legacy again. Then came the Crime Syndicate. They put a noose around my neck, and I was alone again. I was tortured. I was put in front of cameras. I was unmasked. I was a plaything. They strapped me to a machine, I was their weapon. A bomb. Lex Luthor stopped my heart. Killed me to save the world. I was dead. Or so it seemed. In secret, I was saved. Who am I? After all that, I wanted to go back. I wanted to be who I’d been. A son. Part of a family…a legacy. Robin. Nightwing. Batman. I wanted to go back. But I can’t. Something terrible is coming. And I have to stop it. My enemy is in front of me and I’m alone. Who am I? My name is Dick Grayson. I’m who you need me to be.”

This monologue lays out the foundation: Dick defines himself by his network of relationships, his family. From Dick’s very beginning, family is an all-encompassing word that holds both his biological family (the Flying Graysons) and his chosen family (Haly’s Circus at large) together. Dick sees the world relationally; he defines who he is by how he is connected to others. Even his time as the solo hero Nightwing is framed through the relationship oriented occupations of teacher and mentor. It’s telling that in his monologue he uses the word “legacy” almost as often as family. It’s not just about the individuals he’s connected to, it’s about having a web of connections at all. A safety net. Dick is a trapeze artist. The trapeze is not a solo act. Grayson dares to ask who Dick Grayson really is when he’s not a legacy, not a member of a team, not the ‘and’ after Batman?

STILL TWO BEST FRIENDS

Tim Seeley: One of the things Tom and I wanted to do, beyond the drama and conflict between Dick and Bruce, was not another story about the drama and conflict between Dick and Bruce. We didn't want to do another story about how the Robins are exploited and used and eventually turn against Batman. This is still about the two best friends in the DC Universe, but they fight and they have to ask each other to do things that they don't want to. But when it comes down to it, these are the two best buddies that there could be. When they have conflict, it's because it's important. It's because it means something. It's not something to falsify the drama.

To understand what Grayson is doing with the themes of identity and partnership, we have to unpack Nightwing #30. I could write a whole series of posts on Nightwing #30. It’s so densely packed and, by my money, one of the most misunderstood issues in fandom. Every time I reread it, I discover something new to munch on. For the purposes of this post, I will focus on how Dick and Bruce construct Dick’s identity.

Bruce frames their fight as a test. “I need to see if they broke you,” he says, “I need to see if you still have the heart you once had.” This is what Bruce and Dick are fighting over: after being tortured, having his identity revealed by the Crime Syndicate, and killed by Lex Luthor…is Dick Grayson still Dick Grayson?

Their fight is brutal. And why wouldn’t it be? Dick’s lost everything, even his life, and Bruce was helpless to save him. Both Dick and Bruce are at their lowest points right now. “I trained you to live,” Bruce yells as he strikes Dick in the face, “and I watched you die!” This fight is one of the most bloody, violent brawls we’ve ever seen between Bruce and Dick. It’s easy to see why this confrontation spread like wildfire in the whump-centric parts of fandom. It’s blood, guts, and tears.

The quote from Seeley at the beginning of this section is so illuminating. Despite the reputation this scene has gained in fandom, it was never intended to be “another story about how the Robins are exploited and used and eventually turn against Batman”. This scene is intended to break Bruce and Dick down in order to build them back up again. So why doesn’t that intention always come through?

I think it’s a question of genre. Both King and Seeley have gone on record as really enjoying superhero comics for their genre conventions. They are not interested in anything hyperrealistic or gritty. When Dick and Bruce beat the hell out of each other across the Batcave, it’s more equivalent to two characters in a musical breaking out into a dance number, as opposed to actual physical abuse. Compare this issue to New Teen Titans #55, where Bruce’s single punch there has more traumatic weight in the narrative than all the punches here combined. The violence in Nightwing #30 is much more a visual metaphor for Bruce and Dick’s emotional states. The emotional fight is the real concern for the plot, not the literal physical blows, a convention we see often in the superhero genre. And the emotional fight is over what Dick’s identity is now, after the events of Forever Evil. Who does Dick need to be next? Bruce needs Dick to be someone stronger, someone who can’t die, someone who can infiltrate Spyral and not be corrupted by them. Dick wants to return to comfort, to family. He wants to, as he says later on in this issue, “be who [he’s] been”. 

For Dick especially, the violence here showcases his struggle with his identity in the aftermath of Forever Evil. As Bruce begins to tell Dick about the Spyral mission, he kicks Dick into the glass case holding the Robin costume. Dick is broken and battered, on his knees on the Robin cape, surrounded by shattered glass and the looming shadow of Batman. This is a visualization of what Dick feels internally: that by agreeing to stay dead and go on this mission, he is shattering everything he once was. Batman is killing him. Bruce is killing the person he used to be.

Dick can’t accept that. He outright says no and uses the Robin cape to choke Bruce out. Again, that sounds horrifically violent. But on the page, it just feels like symbolism. Dick chokes Bruce out with the Robin cape, tying them together back-to-back. He doesn’t want to leave Bruce again. He wants to stay together. If Dick understands his identity to be Batman’s partner, what does it mean that Bruce is trying to take that away?

Bruce and Dick are at cross-purposes with regards to who Dick needs to be next. As they throw punches, Bruce rattles off intel as Dick says the names of his family like a prayer. Bruce is acting from a place of terror. He just witnessed Dick die and his coping strategy is what it always is: become the mission. Bruce needs Dick’s identity to be mission focused, and that mission is staying alive and keeping their secrets safe (pointedly, the very same things Dick just failed to do). Dick needs to feel reconnected to his old identity, he needs to return to his family and be with them. Both of them are desperately trying to make meaning out of Dick’s death. When Dick tackles Bruce into the Batmobile, saying that he’s alive, it almost looks like a hug. They are not communicating here, but that does not mean they don’t care deeply for each other. It is the same tenderness they feel towards each other that provokes them into such a no-holds-barred fight. They are desperate; both of them will stop at nothing to not lose each other. It’s just that they have different definitions of salvation. 

Nightwing #30 is an argument of ideology. After knocking Dick to the ground, Bruce plays the mentor. “Why do we fall, Dick? We fall so we can learn to get back up.” The Spyral mission is a very real, very urgent threat. But there’s also a part of Bruce that desperately needs to see Dick prove his invincibility again, for the sake of his worldview. Dick, at this moment, refuses Bruce’s lesson. He peels off the mask Bruce gave him. “No,” he says, “No, that’s not true. We fall because someone pushes us. We get up to push back.” Dick’s resolve is iron-clad. He will never just stay on the ground, not when someone pushed him. His desire for justice will always compel him back on to his feet. That desire belongs to Dick Grayson, not Nightwing, not Robin. Even as Dick argues against Bruce, he proves to them both why he is the only option for a long term undercover mission in Spyral. 

Bruce continues to preach the necessity of Dick’s Spyral mission, no matter the costs. “After this, Bruce,” Dick tells him as he blocks Bruce’s punch, “after asking this, between us – it can’t be the same again.” Bruce knows. He delivers his explanation of his self-identity: 

“I’m hurting you. My family. I’m making that sacrifice. Because I don’t give up. I don’t give in. But what about you? Are you them? Or are you me? After the Crime Syndicate captured you, tortured you, killed you – tell me Dick, my body, after all of this – will you give up? Will you give in?” 

While Nightwing #30 has been laying the foundation of the plot of Grayson this whole time, this is the foundation of Grayson’s Act I’s thematic question: Who is Dick Grayson? Bruce here pitches it as a binary question. Is Dick him? A Bat who never gives up. Or is he “them”? The “them” is ambiguous. Grammatically, it refers to the other heroes who would give up and let Spyral use them. But I think it could be argued that “them” means anyone who isn’t Bruce. The Crime Syndicate. Spyral. The dead. Anyone who isn’t relentless and alive. Dick is a pillar in Bruce’s psyche. It’s an essay on its own tracking all the moments throughout canon and elsewhere stories where Bruce loses his grip on his own identity when Dick dies. He frames this as a binary question not out of sadism, but because this is how Bruce’s worldview works. It is just fundamentally more binary and egocentric than Dick’s worldview. Bruce does not construct his identity (or his understanding of Dick’s identity) in the same way Dick does.

Dick constructs his identity through the relationships he has with people, not if they are him or not. It’s a bringing together of people and identities within himself, not a subjugation. Having those identity defining relationships is an action, not an act of possession for Dick. And Bruce is asking Dick to leave those relationships behind. Dick’s identity is in freefall. He’s losing his family. He’s losing his mantle. After all that loss, one thing remains true: he “is not [Bruce’s] boy”. With that mission statement, Dick delivers the knockout punch that has Bruce forfeiting the fight.

This spark of independence is what makes Dick a survivor. This is what allows Dick to define himself through his web of connections without being a hollow person who has no true personality, no true self. Dick is not a child, a boy, who just belongs to someone. Not Bruce. Not Spyral. He is his own man. And while Dick will struggle with not being able to behave as a Bat does anymore once he’s in Spyral, if a Bat was truly all he was, Spyral would break him. Dick’s refutation here further proves to Bruce that he can survive this mission. “I win,” says Dick, just a small figure in a sea of broken, burning childhood mementos. Goodbye, Robin. Bruce embraces him in a sidehug, literally pulling Dick under his wing. “Good,” Bruce says. Their pose mirrors the photograph of young Dick and Bruce in the panel. The visuals here communicate what Seeley spoke of in his interview: despite the destruction, despite the goodbyes, this is still two best friends. 

This is the catharsis of Nightwing #30, the resolution to this fight of ideology and grief. This moment is overlooked because it is so brief compared to the length of their fight. And it’s a messy resolution. I imagine that there are many readers who remain unconvinced of the necessity of the Spyral mission as Bruce’s posits, or the depiction of the physical violence, or many other messy things in the issue. But Dick isn’t unconvinced by the necessity of infiltrating Spyral. The next time we see him, he’s all in on the mission, ready to be “who you need me to be”. Bruce tells a horrified Alfred that he’s “fixed it”. Bruce and Dick both understand that they have to be apart for right now, just for this one problem, and then home will return to them. They both understand it as a sacrifice, not an estrangement. I think a lot of Spyral hurt/comfort fics assume that the Nightwing #30 fight was never resolved. It was. Perhaps in a way that feels unsatisfying to some readers, but Grayson does not make sense if one doesn’t accept that Dick has already made peace with Bruce before he left. 

Dick’s relationship with Bruce is solid when Helena Bertinelli offers him a job at Spyral. It is Dick’s own personal sense of self that remains in jeopardy. The last three lines of the issue are Dick’s monologue: “Who am I? My name is Dick Grayson. I’m who you need me to be.” In bold red letters, the issue tells us “TO BE CONTINUED IN GRAYSON #1!” It could not be more clear what thematic questions Grayson will seek to explore. Can Dick really be whoever he needs to be? Can Dick really become the agent Spyral needs him to be and the double agent Batman needs him to be, all while still being himself? Will being Agent 37 break Dick Grayson permanently? 

DOWNSIDE OF A SOLO ACT

“The downside of a solo act. No one around to see you do the cool stuff.”

The first four issues of Grayson are defined by identity crisis. The agents of Spyral struggle to get Dick to let go of his current identity that is rooted in Batman and become Agent 37 more fully. Dick struggles internally to adapt enough to Spyral’s culture to continue to be a double agent, while not engaging in any acts that break the morals he’s so firmly tied to his sense of self. Dick can no longer define himself by a family who isn’t there, so he has to define himself as the person his family once loved.

Grayson #1 sets the stage. We are dropped right into the action as Dick takes down an enemy on a moving train. He uses a gun, but not by shooting it. Instead, he uses it as a boomerang that hits his enemy in the head. On the last panel of the page, Dick sighs to him and says, “The downside of a solo act. No one around to see you do the cool stuff.” Readers turn the page, heightening the gag. Set-up and payoff: Midnighter watches Dick with a pair of binoculars. “Damn,” he says, “That was pretty cool.” This exchange is peak Grayson. Its snappy humor disguises the work it's doing to contribute to Grayson’s central dramatic question: Who is Dick Grayson when he isn’t Batman’s partner, a solo act? Midnighter, looking every inch like a Batman type, tells us that Dick is not as alone as he thinks. But the leather daddies in black aren’t here to rescue him from his loneliness, they are here as his enemies first. Dick defines himself through his relationships. How will his sense of self be challenged by people who don’t want to form strong bonds with him?

Even as a spy, it’s still Dick’s default to make friends. His first use of Hypnos, the mind control implant given to him by Spyral, is to make Ninel Dubov think they are close friends. He says: “I’m your friend, Ninel. You’ve been lonely and afraid for so long. I just want to help you. And you want to help me. That’s what friends do.” Yes, Dick is literally brainwashing the guy here, but his words are a solid definition of friendship. This is how Dick incorporates his friends into his identity: he’s there to help them. Even as Dick is doing the most Spyral thing in the world, using Hypnos on a target, he is still operating under his old construction of his identity. 

But this classic Dick Grayson approach soon backfires. Ninel activates a very dangerous power in order to assist Dick in his fight against Midnighter. When Dick sees that Ninel is at risk of dying, Dick has to drop the friendship act. He goads Ninel into venting his power and completes the mission. In the past, Nightwing would have been able to talk Ninel down with sincerity. Agent 37 does not have that luxury. Dick’s always been talented at manipulation, by his own admission later on in the issue (“I-I’ve always been good at reading people. [...] Never used it – like it.”), but his people reading skills have always been used for the pursuit of justice. Now Dick is using the skills for morally ambiguous Spyral’s benefit. Under Dick’s own sense of self, he should be bad at being a spy. But he’s not. So what does that say about Dick’s identity? Is he really who he thinks he is?

Dick’s struggle to remain connected to the morals that define his place with his family is exemplified in Grayson #2 by Dick’s struggle to remain connected to Batman. Undoubtedly, Dick’s relationship to Batman is crucial to how Dick self-identifies. Over and over again in this run, Dick’s defines himself as Batman’s partner, Batman’s heir. Batman is emblematic of a moral system that is important to Dick’s understanding of himself, the same system that is at odds with Spyral’s definition of Agent 37. But more than that, Batman is emblematic of a person, a history of a relationship, that is critical to Dick’s self-identity. When Dick craves comfort and support, he reaches out to Bruce about their interpersonal connections. He wants to know if Alfred and Barbara are okay after attending his funeral. In order for Dick to feel centered and stable with himself, he needs to know that the people he includes in his self-identity are okay, too. 

The downside to this way of being is that if Dick doesn’t have access to those people who are his foundation of self, he grows unsteady. But his Spyral mission, by design, keeps him cut-off from his family, for his and their safety. Bruce must rebuff Dick’s desire for comfort. “Birdwatcher,” Bruce stops and corrects himself, sensing Dick’s vulnerability, “the longer we stay on the line the more likely it’ll be intercepted.” It comes off as a chastisement, and it is, but it’s also Bruce giving to Dick the same comfort he would give to himself: focus on the mission. And Dick tries to. “Right. Yeah. Hey y’know what? I don’t need to know. Because I’m going to wrap this up before the flowers on my grave wilt. Over.” But even as he’s trying to model Bruce’s coping mechanism, his real desire bleeds through. Dick wants to return to his family. By returning to them, he’ll return to a congruent self-identity. When Helena sees Dick after this call, she notes that he looks “rattled”. Until he can return to his connections in Gotham, Dick is trapped in the identity limbo of being Agent 37. 

Dick Grayson, however, is a character inclined to change, whether he intends it or not. Batman may be the most important connection in the web of relationships Dick uses to define himself, but he is not the only one, and the web is always growing. 

Helena Bertinelli, code name Matron, is that first new connection. She is assigned to be Dick’s partner. As someone high up in Spyral’s food chain, Helena is an antagonistic force to Dick’s mission. Her personality is efficient and no nonsense. Their dynamic in Grayson #2 is reminiscent of the dynamic Dick had with Batman when he was Robin. The stoic, more knowledgeable mentor and the playful, confident student. But that dynamic is purely surface level right now. There is no foundation of trust between Dick and Helena, not at the start. Neither of them are under any delusions about their ability to truly trust each other. But for the mission, they must act as partners.

Spyral sends them to find a bioweapon enhanced stomach of Paragon in Farmington, Leicestershire. Their investigation leads them to Dr. Poppy Ashemoore, who has the stomach implanted into herself, and is now an enhanced cannibal attacking them. Dick’s got a plan to take her down. It’s a very superhero genre plan, he’s going to get her monologuing and then strike. He expects Helena, his partner, to have his back. She doesn’t. Helena orders Agent 37 not to strike. Dick’s confused; this is not how the story goes. “She’s a cannibal, Matron! She killed people and ate them! It goes like this: we knock her down, and we take her to the proper authorities!” Helena reminds him that his old ways of identification hold no value here: “She is not a supervillain. She is an asset who happens to be an incredibly self-sufficient genius.” Dick cannot accept the idea that a murderer may escape justice and be rewarded for it, so Helena uses the code word “tsuchigumo” and knocks Dick out.

After an issue of bonding, it’s a big betrayal. Back at homebase, Helena completes her lecture from the start of the issue about what a Hadrian woman is: “She is unconcerned with righteousness or virtue. She exists only for the prompt and unerring delivery of her charge.” Dick watches from the shadows, sick and defeated. Helena is training the girls, but her words apply to all those who work for Spyral, including Dick. This is the type of person he must become. A strong connection to Helena did not provide him with any relief, just more disconnection. Again, Dick must question his own self-identity. 

The issue ends with Dick making a mission report to Bruce again. He’s internalized the need to not linger, but can’t resist one last attempt at re-establishing connection. Helena was a failed partnership, but Batman and Robin never die. This time, he appeals to a value Bruce also shares: nostalgia. They share a sweet memory about Babs and Alfred. Dick may not have his relationships present in his life currently, and he’s suffering for it, but the memories of the love he has for them cannot be taken away. Those memories can stabilize his self-identity for one more day. 

But that is just duct tape on the hole in the dam. Eventually, the dam is going to burst. Dick could only juggle being half Agent 37, half his former self for so long. Grayson #3 serves as the ultimate nadir for Grayson Act I. In #3, the struggle between Dick’s relationship-centric self identity and the mission-centric identity of Spyral agents causes the death of two people.

Issue #3 opens with Dick establishing a new connection with a new character: Alia, codename Agent 8. After Helena and Dick are assigned a joint mission with Agent 1 (AKA Tiger) and Agent 8, Agent 8 meets Dick at the shooting range. She isn’t impressed with his shot: “Really? This is how the great Wing-Knight shoots? I see why Mr. Minos has Agent 1 and me bailing you out on this mission.” Dick corrects her. It is both a fact correction and an assertion of his identity. “Nightwing. And you should see me with a slingshot, Agent 8.” Even as Dick asserts his identity as Nightwing, he calls upon the distinctly Robin imagery of the slingshot. Dick’s framing his identity not just as Nightwing, but his time as a caped hero overall. Nightwing isn’t just the Nightwing suit - it’s the entire life Dick’s led up to this point. And that person, he begins with the oath Dick swore to Batman in order to become Robin. Nightwing is the legacy of Robin. And Dick is proud of that legacy. He would rather be good with a slingshot than a gun - that is what keeps him connected to Bruce. This is how he understands himself.

Still, the back and forth between Dick and Agent 8 begins to cross the line into flirtatious. Her body language is clearly sensual as she corrects his form. “But remember, don’t anticipate the explosion,” Agent 8 tells Dick, “Cause the explosion. Can you do that, Wing-Knight? Can you do that for me?” Dick again reasserts his identity. “That’s not my name. My name is…” The next page reveals Agent 8 in bed gasping Dick’s name in pleasure. It’s a cheesy homage to the brazen sexuality of spy thrillers. But even still, it’s revealing. Nightwing doesn’t make up Dick Grayson; Nightwing makes up a part of Dick Grayson. Losing Nightwing does not mean Dick has lost his identity, it just means he’s lost the easiest way to sum himself up. There is hope for Dick’s self-identity, even as we nosedive to his lowest point. He may not be “Wing-Knight” anymore, but he is still Dick Grayson.

After their tryst, Dick continues to struggle with his identity as an agent of Spyral who should be using a gun, vis-à-vis struggling to understand Christophe Tanner, their target for this issue. “I don’t understand these things,” Dick says of a gun. “Going after a guy like this, with a tool like this. He’s in pain. He should stop the pain. How does this stop anything?” Dick’s worldview is so much about soothing hurt. He’s a fixer. Guns don’t solve emotional wounds. But this worldview has no place in Spyral. Agent 8 says so: “What do you know about guns?” But she might as well be asking what does Dick know about this spy world.

Dick, Helena, Agent 8 and Tiger track Tanner down. It goes tits up pretty quickly. Dick faces Tanner down alone. He tries to talk sense into Tanner the same way he’s been talking sense into himself: by reminding Tanner of his relationships. “I know about your boys,” Dick says. “I know you tried to save them, and I know what he did. Haven’t you had enough? Haven’t the guns done enough? We don’t need these to settle this. Tell us where the eyes are, and we all walk away. Think about your boys. Some things you don’t shoot your way out of.” Tanner rejects him and chooses his guns. Tiger comes to Dick’s rescue, but not without chastising him. Dick’s method has failed on Tanner. The worldview on which he constructs his identity has failed. Is it doomed to fail for himself, too?

The consequences of this are severe. Agent 8 blows up at Dick for endangering Tiger, her partner’s, life. She calls him out on a perceived hypocrisy: “Oh, yeah, you noble superheroes. Fire laser beams at people. Arrows. Batathingies. But a gun, no, no, never. God forbid! Not a gun!” Nursing the cheek Agent 8 just slapped, Dick can only repeat what he’s desperately holding on to: guns aren’t “the way [he] fight[s]”. His identity is being challenged at all fronts. He can’t risk revealing how much he holds on to the people of his previous life, so he can only cling on to their teachings. Guns aren’t the way he fights. His explanation only makes Agent 8 angrier. “You’re all like Batman,” she says, “little boys under little masks, crying about their dead mommies.” Dick, acting as both the double agent seeking information and the Bruce Wayne defense squad he usually is, asks, “What do you know about Batman?”

Agent 8 gives an ending argument that hits harder than her slap. “I know he still wears his little mask. What I don’t know is if you’ve taken yours off! You’re not a superhero. You're a spy. With a gun. You’re not Wing-Kinght or Nightwing or whatever. You’re Agent 37.” Here she reveals a flaw at the center of Dick’s identity - if Dick defines himself through his relationships, how can he endanger a partner by not taking the shot? Are Batman’s teachings getting in the way of helping people? But if Dick isn’t Batman’s teachings, who is he? Agent 8 would answer that by saying Dick is Agent 37, a spy who uses a gun. But can Dick really be that?

No. No, of course not. When presented with the shoot or be shot dilemma, Dick does the most Dick Grayson thing he can do: he finds a third option. Dick’s puts together the missing pieces of Tanner’s backstory, tracking him down to the school that his youngest and only alive son attends. He uses the weapon at his disposal that predates even Robin; he tries to talk it out. Dick encourages Tanner to drop the guns and meet his son. “Is that how you want him to see you? With your guns in the air?” Dick reiterates Agent 8’s own defense of guns to him, Dick understands that they “make things go faster”. But, as he tells Tanner, “what’s the damn rush?” 

This time, Dick’s words reach Tanner. He confesses he stole the macguffin of the issue because he didn’t want to see his son through the gun. The Paragon eyes aren’t compatible with him, so he gives them to Dick. The two share a touching moment where Tanner is insecure about his looks scaring his son and Dick jokes about Tanner’s chest hair. This is the type of relationship building that is at the core of Dick’s self-identity. But just as Dick wins a laugh from his once enemy, Agent 8 shoots Tanner. Everything goes to shit from that moment on, right in front of Dick’s eyes. Tanner survives the shot and returns fire to Agent 8, killing her. He then falls off the roof and dies in front of his son. The parallels to both Bruce’s and Dick’s parents’ own deaths cannot be ignored; it is salt in the wound. Dick has defined his life by his mission to save people. Now, Dick is left alone on the rooftop, with nothing but blood, a gun, and Tiger’s desperate voice ringing through his coms.

As Tanner’s son finds his father’s body, still clutching his gun, Tiger speaks, “37. 1. Do you have eyes on Agent 8? Repeat. 37, do you have eyes on Agent 8? 37? 37? Agent 37!” Dick raises his head. Grayson artist Mikel Janín’s composition is spectacular here. Dick looks the reader straight in our eyes. “That’s not my name.”

This is the ultimate rejection of Dick’s Agent 37 identity. He will never be convinced of Agent 8’s and Spyral at large’s ideology. All it’s done is make two people dead and a little boy an orphan. This knowledge doesn’t change the fact that Dick’s mission isn’t over. Lives are on the line, in all directions. He has to be a spy. Agent 37 isn’t his name but still Dick must wear this disguise. How will he adapt? 

As always, Dick’s ability to adapt is helped by the relationships he forms with other people. If Grayson #3 was about the ultimate failure of Dick and Agent 8’s partnership (and I don’t just mean romantically, I mean Agent 8 as an opposing ideology Dick cannot integrate into his sense of self), then Grayson #4 is the beginning of Helena’s growth into that web. Even though Helena has been tasked by the Director of Spyral, Mr. Minos, to root out the double agent in their midst, she and Dick continue to grow closer. 

Grayson #4 starts out with their status quo sunshine-grumpy relationship. Dick is purposefully sucking a lollipop as annoyingly as possible and Helena karate chops it out of his mouth. Dick wraps up the lollipop to send it back to Bruce for DNA sampling, but plays dumb with Helena, who reacts with scorn and disgust. But even after this engineered tiff, Helena immediately tries to comfort Dick over Agent 8’s death. Dick rebuffs her, he knows that death “is part of the job”. He is playing the Agent 37 role that Agent 8 so wanted him to do. Helena isn’t convinced. She tries again to have this conversation with Dick and again is rebuffed. “Don’t worry,” Dick assures her, mistaking what I would argue is Helena’s genuine concern over him with her fixation on accomplishing the mission, “I’m focused. I’m ready. The mission is as good as accomplished.” The status quo is starting to shift between these two, but Dick hasn’t forgiven her betrayal yet.

The rest of the issue acts almost as a breather episode. The Hadrian students decide to raid Dick’s room for his panties. Dick catches them on the hunt, of course. But rather than turn them in for breaking curfew, he starts a cat and mouse game, leading them in a chase across campus. They want a game? Sure, Dick’s happy to play. This moment is silly and fun but it’s so revealing of how Dick recenters himself in his grief. He wants to be with people without having to be vulnerable with people. He wants to be in the air. He wants the chase. This is how Dick self-soothes a wound to his worldview, to his very identity. 

Helena, out at night investigating Agent 8 as the potential Spyral mole, catches the group. She sends the girls back to their dorms and Dick to Mr. Minos, where he receives his punishment. He is to become the girls’ gay French acrobatics teacher. It’s pitched as a torture for Dick, and while the Hadrian girls are thirsty af, Dick loves being a teacher. Teacher is one of the ways Dick defined himself as back in Nightwing #30 and of course acrobat is Dick’s very essence. The cover story is framed as a punishment for Dick, but truly this is an opportunity for Dick to maintain his old, true, self-identity. 

Helena has another opportunity for Dick’s self-identity too. Later that night, she sneaks into Dick’s bedroom. “I know why you came to Spyral, Dick Grayson.” Dick reacts with confusion. Helena gives an impassioned monologue. It’s a reversal, instead of Helena dragging Dick into the messy spy thriller genre, here Dick inspires Helena to dip her toes into the superhero genre, where impassioned speeches can reach another person’s heart. She says: 

“I saw you tonight. Running across those rooftops. There was a joy in your movement. In your eyes. You loved the night. You loved the chase. You loved being the fearless hero. You loved being Nightwing. When you were outed by the Crime Syndicate. Believed killed. You knew you had to remain dead. To reveal that you were alive could endangered those you loved. Set your enemies against them. You had to quit being the hero. Being Dick Grayson. Now, you fear that you might lose who you are.”

Helena reads Dick like an open book. To know Dick’s motivations so well is dangerous, but Helena does not make Dick bleed for it. She simply walks towards the window. When Dick asks where she’s going, she turns and says,  “I do not want you to forget who you are Dick Grayson. I want you to remember the rooftops. I want you to remember the night. I want you to remember Nightwing.” She smiles, which on Helena looks more like a smirk, “Chase me.” And Dick does. 

For Dick, this is the remedy for the poison from the last issue. Agent 8 wanted Dick to be someone else. In her worldview, Agent 37 can only exist at Nightwing’s death. Dick must forget everything he was before to be Agent 37. In contrast, Helena wants Dick to remember who he is, which includes (but is not limited to) Nightwing. She wants him to be successful in Spyral not at the cost of his previous selves. Dick has to hide so much of his true identity and belief systems right now. But Helena, at least, can offer herself up as the means in which Dick can still feel safely connected to his old, true identity.

Dick started in Issue #1 utterly alone. He ends #4 chasing after someone who is sour, dark, and perfect into the night, a smile on his face. This ending allows Dick to metaphorically be Robin, Nightwing, and Agent 37 all at the same time. He is able to hold that multiplicity of identity within him because of his connection to Helena. Once again, being a partner act keeps Dick’s identity whole.

I HAVE HER

“This can’t…this…you can’t do this…I know you. I see what’s coming. You…you…can’t. I have…my enhancements. I have…powers. Dick…Dick Grayson...what…what do you have?” “I have her.”

Grayson #5 is one of my favorite single issues of all time. It should be part of a mandatory DC onboarding when it comes to writing Dick Grayson. It captures the core of his character, his ultimate truth: the unflinching determination to help people in the face of impossible odds.

The issue starts in media res. Dick and Midnighter are helping a woman deliver her baby as Helena tries to pilot a failing plane to safety. The mother dies. The plane crashes in the desert. The baby is alive and crying. Helena, Midnighter, Dick and the baby are two hundred miles away from civilization. Midnighter does the math: they’re dead. There’s no way any of them can survive the trek.

Dick refuses to accept that. If they die, the baby dies, so they can’t die. It’s just that simple.

Thus far, in Grayson, Dick’s ability to care deeply about strangers has been used against him. A good spy makes people think they care, but they don’t actually care. They exist in order to survive the mission or themselves. Dick’s mission is caring about people; he defines himself through loving other people. Grayson #5 shows us that this isn’t mere naivete. This is Dick’s most dangerous skill. He doesn't have to have special enhancements or powers. As long as he has "her", a person to save, Dick can do anything. His determination arises from his relational approach to identity.

This has been true for Dick since he was a child. Later on in the issue, after Helena and Midnighter have both succumbed to the elements, Dick tells the baby about a dream he once had. The story he tells is a heartfelt and poignant reference to Batman #156, “Robin Dies at Dawn”. “On this world,” Dick says, “I was Robin. I had to save him.” The syntax and order of Dick’s sentences here reveal that he defines being Robin as saving people and he is Robin. In order to be himself, Dick must save people. And he does, even though Dick’s story ends with rocks and darkness, the moral he gives to the baby is bravery in the face of any odds.

For those of us who are familiar with Batman #156, we know that Dick is hit with rocks and dies. Batman, guilty, grief-stricken, and alone on an alien planet with a monster about to attack him, begs for death. It’s eventually revealed that Robin is alive and well, Batman was just undergoing an astronaut simulation. This meta reference highlights Dick’s superpower in this issue. When Batman doesn’t have Robin, he begs for death. When Robin doesn’t have Batman, he finds more people to save. Dick is able to survive the loneliness and isolation that Batman isn’t because Dick doesn’t define his identity by one person or purpose, but by his ability to care for many people. Today, it’s this baby. Tomorrow, it will be someone else. That’s who Dick is. Dick’s devotion to life itself gives him determination.

Devotion is not something many call a strength anymore. After all, devotion so easily becomes zealotry. Grayson #5 itself warns us of this. A Saudi couple find Dick and the baby and the wife is overjoyed. “We have prayed for so long for a child,” she says, “And here, god has brought one from the desert.” Her husband disagrees. “What is this? God has not brought this boy. This is no God. Look. This is only a man.”

Dick is not a god. He is not even an enhanced guy with a supercomputer for a brain. He is just a man. But when a man makes serving other people his identity, he can do the impossible.

HEART IS AN AWESOME POWER

“Who are you? What do you hold inside? Is it love? Is that what you believe?”

If Grayson #5 is about Dick proving who he is to the reader, then Grayson #6-7 are about him proving that core identity to Midnighter and Helena.

Grayson #6 opens with Dick and Helena investigating a prison island. After surviving an attack from a robot orca, they find that their targets have already been slaughtered by the Fist of Cain. While Helena uses her Hypnos implant to get information about the issue’s macguffin, the Paragon Brain, from a surviving Fist of Cain member, Midnighter kidnaps Dick and takes him to the God Garden. There Dick and Midnighter finally have the all out brawl they’ve been building towards. As they trade blows, Midnighter reveals exactly what he thinks of Dick. He states as fact of all the worst fears Dick has about himself during the Spyral mission.

“You traded in the supertights for a decoder ring but you think you’re still the good guy,” Midnighter says, “But you’ve changed. You’re just lying to yourself. You’re one of them.”

Dick refutes Midnighter’s analysis of himself. First, by refuting Midnighter’s claim that he’s figured out Dick’s fighting style (“You can do jazz. How are you at punk rock?”). Dick is made up of more than what Midnighter claims he is. It’s easy to read this as a rebuttal against the naysayers of Grayson itself: Dick is more than just his mantles. He can carry a solo title with no masks, just as Dick Grayson.

“Comfort. Trust. Family. I gave that up to become a spy. A spider man. A tsuchigumo. I have changed,” Dick acknowledges. “But I’ll always be Dick Grayson.”

If that’s true, then how is Dick constructing the identity of ‘Dick Grayson’, if not by those ties of family and legacy? Issue #7 will answer that for us in time. Here in Issue #6, there’s still more setting up to do. After Helena is exposed mentally to the Fist of Cain’s plans for mass murder, she awakens to see that Dick is gone. She doesn’t know he’s been kidnapped. The first thing she asks is if Dick left her. Like Midnighter, Helena is suspicious of who Dick claims to be. Is he really her partner? Or will he abandon her the second it suits his goals?  

As Issue #6 sets up the fears Helena and Midnighter have about who Dick is as a person, Issue #7 proves those fears wrong. Cue the transformation magic, Dick is about to go full magical girl.

Issue #7 is an ode to Dick’s legacy. As Robin, Dick represented spring: the joy and new life after the cold death of winter. As Nightwing, Dick represented rebirth, the great rebuilder after destruction. The mantles don’t represent those things intrinsically. They represent those ideals because Dick infused them with the essence of his own person, who lives by those ideals. Agent 37 does not carry that Dick Grayson legacy the way Robin and Nightwing do; it carries the reputation of Spyral. As Dick tries to convince the Gardener to let him and Midnighter stop the Fists of Cain, the Gardener calls him out on this. “[...] You, Dick Grayson, represent lies and treachery. The loss of ideals. The desire for power at the cost of innocence.” Here, in this world, Dick is no longer the benchmark of the superhero community, the guy everyone respects. He’s fallen. He’s been corrupted.

But he’s still Dick Grayson. He’s not going to let a fall stop him from saving people. The Fist of Cain plan to use the Paragon brain to make innocent people kill each other. Gardener believes that this bloodbath will serve as an example for all of humanity and help create a better world. Dick can’t physically fight her, so he uses his other skills: empathy and compassion. 

He tells the Gardener a story about himself.

“When my parents died, I thought that was the end for me. I was freefalling. I thought that I was going to fall and fall until I hit the ground. But someone came to my rescue. He caught me before I hit the ground. He was my net. He taught me to focus my anger. To stop myself from hating the world. From blaming everyone for the evil of a few. And then, I realized how lucky I was. I realized I had to pay it back. I owed it to other people to be their net. I had to dedicate my life to being there to catch anyone who needed it.” 

Dick’s anger is not an explosive, severed heads in a duffle bag kind of anger. After Dick’s parents die, he was never in danger of becoming a thug or a murderer, he was in danger of losing his idealism. Anger takes the form of mistrust, disconnection, and apathy in Dick. It’s “blaming everyone for the evil of a few”. It’s closing himself off from the world and all the love the world offers. 

When one is faced with the type of acute trauma young Dick survived, it’s easy for that experience to make you selfish and isolated. Becoming the Robin to Bruce’s Batman saves Dick from this worldview.  Robin gifts Dick a world of connections - from the bond he forms with Bruce and Alfred, to the people he saves every night on the streets. This is what Gardener is not understanding. There are evil people in the world. The world itself may even be cruel. But that’s not the point. The point is the friends you make along the way, the people you catch in your net. By limiting his scope to the people he can reach, Dick is able to love the whole world. 

The Gardener, moved by Dick’s and Midnighter’s pleas, allows them to teleport to Tel-Aviv and save the day. The Fist of Cain are disguised as the band Sin by Silence; they intend to unleash the power of the Paragon brain at a concert for peace. “But I want you to answer a question Tel-Avi,” lead singer Clutch asks the crowd. “Who are you? What do you hold inside? Is it love? Is that what you believe?”

So far Dick himself has not dropped the L word. He speaks around it, citing family and catching people when they fall - terms and phrases that absolutely do share the same meaning as love, but don’t sound as cheesy when said aloud. Clutch is able to speak directly to the central dramatic questions of this issue on Dick’s behalf: “Who are you? What do you hold inside? Is it love? Is that what you believe?” Notice here how the order of Clutch’s questions directly ties the construction of identity to a belief system of love. Clutch intends to subvert this by proving that the true self of all people is a murderer, but Dick Grayson answers those questions in the affirmative. It is love that he holds inside of him. That is the belief he is devoted to. That is who he is.

Helena is starting to understand that. When Dick comes to her rescue, she succumbs to the power of the Paragon brain and attacks him.“Agent 37.” She corrects for his true identity. “Dick. You—abandoned me! I hate you! Kill you!” Dick dodges her attack and Helena is able to come to her senses and realize the impact that Paragon brain is having on her. 

“I’m too angry, Dick. I have too much hate,” she says, confessing to Dick her own construction of identity. “I’ve killed. And I’ll do it again. I can’t…I’m too weak even with the Hypnos to get anywhere near the Paragon brain.” It’s only after Helena tells both Dick and herself who she is that she is able to tell Dick who he is. “But you, Dick Grayson. You have no hate. You would never take a life. Everything you do…it’s...”

She kisses him. It’s an appropriate action for her speech as this is all but a declaration of love. It’s a declaration of Dick’s nobility, the very thing both Midnighter and Helena were scrutinizing in the last issue. Helena says Dick has “no hate” but I think another way of saying that is that Dick is full of love. Kissing Dick “clear[s] [her] mind a little”, freeing Helena of the Paragon brain’s influence. Where once Helena flirted with Dick to assert her identity as the better spy, now she kisses him to center herself as someone who won’t give into hatred and mass murder. She kisses Dick as a way back to her identity, just as she lead Dick back to his identity in Grayson #4. They depart, refocused on the mission.

Dick eventually makes it on stage to destroy the Paragon brain. The brain, in Dick’s own words, offers him up the greatest temptation. “I—I can feel you. Whispering to me. Telling me it’s okay to abandon my code...to let go of my humanity. To fear. To h-hurt. To…k-kill”. And Dick is tempted to give into his hatred. As he recounts later to Bruce:

“I was about to smash the brain on the stage. I hated it. Hated what it had done, what it represented. I just wanted to see it in little tiny bits. But then I realized I’d be feeding the emotions the fist wanted to unleash here. I knew that the people who’d been influenced by its empathic attack wouldn’t stop if I fed it more violence. So I didn’t dash it to chunks on the stage like a guitar. I stopped. And I thought about everything I have. My family. My net. And I changed its mind.”

Dick’s ability to pause and reflect before he acts is crucial here. Even though smashing the Paragon brain to bits is ostensibly a good thing, Dick knows that actions of hatred will only beget more hatred. He has to feed the brain something different, show it a different path. He has to forgive it for making him hate it. He has to teach it about being grateful, about family, about helping people up when they fall. This is Dick’s Moon Healing Escalation moment. This is what has been at the core of his identity, since he pledged to never swerve from the path of justice in the wake of his parents’ murders. His ability to forgive, his ability to love, reminds the brain and everyone in its thrall to do the same.

The issue ends with Midnighter breaking ties with Gardener. “I can’t be surrounded by liars and murderers without becoming one myself,” he says, “I’m not like Grayson.” Dick Grayson is a person who can surround himself with liars and murderers and not become one himself. Midnighter, the man who not one issue ago was Dick’s biggest naysayer is now all but calling Dick incorruptible. Dick’s had to give up a lot of the embellishments that traditionally define him in order to be Agent 37. But he’s kept the core thing that makes him Dick Grayson: his ability to love. The people around him are starting to take notice.

CONCLUSION: SAME OLD DICK

Grayson #8 marks the shift from Act I to Act II. It’s a tying up of loose ends and the opening up of new doors to explore. The macguffin of Act I, collecting the Paragon organs, has been completed. Mr. Minos, the enigmatic boss of the last eight issues, makes his play. He attempts to kill Helena, succeeding only in wounding her. She collapses in Dick’s arms, warning him of Minos’ betrayal. At the same time, Minos attempts to kill Tiger with the newly reassembled Paragon. Dick saves him and they work together to defeat the creature that has the powers of the Justice League. Even the Hadrian girls get to have their hero moment in this fight. Minos’ reassembled Paragon has a flaw the original did not: its heart. The baby Dick saved in the desert still claims the organ as her own. Dick does the one thing he’s been avoiding for the last eight issues: he picks up a gun and takes the killshot. He shoots the creature right where its heart would be. Tiger is astounded. “Agent 8 said you were a horrible shot!” Dick responds as an Agent of Spyral should, “Yeah, well, that’s what spies do. We lie.” This is the triumphant defeat of the villain. In this moment, Dick is able to incorporate Agent 37 into his self-identity without completely shattering the construction of self that came before. Being Agent 37 did not break Dick Grayson; Agent 37 is now another aspect of Dick Grayson. Dick Grayson still endures. 

Meanwhile, Minos is killed off by the even more enigmatic Agent Zero. She calls Minos bait, a “cliched bat villain” meant to “attract Grayson into [our] web”. It’s clear she will be our new main antagonist. If Act I asked ‘Who is Dick Grayson?’, Act II will ask ‘Who is Spyral?’ Issue #8 ends with a tagline for Act II: “A NEW MISSION! A NEW PARTNER! SAME OLD DICK!”

Same Old Dick is the best conclusion I can think of for Grayson Act I’s thematic exploration of Dick’s identity. Grayson stripped Nightwing and Robin away from Dick, separated him from Batman and the entire Batfamily, and placed him into a situation that routinely demanded he forsake his own personal morals. And yet, somehow, Dick is still the Same Old Dick.

This is the brilliance of Grayson, its ability to synthesize such contradictions. Grayson is both a tongue-in-cheek parody of the spy genre at the same time it’s an earnest spy thriller. It’s both an interrogation and celebration of DC superheroics. It is a story about mistrust, loneliness, and isolation…but also one about friendship, the importance of the connections we form with other people. It’s a story about Dick Grayson, forced out of his element and into the shadows of espionage, still shining brightly as the heart of the DCU.

[24kvlaks]

THE DIVINE

(Slenderman x admirer reader)

Plot-someones been leaving notes for mister slendy. ALL FLUFF.

There he was, reading the cards that someone was putting up, cards near his drawings. Long seeming admiration letters.

Did they find out he was a monster? But no, to them he was God.

In the letters attachments were tiny symbols on the very back of them. Wrapped tightly in a red ribbon, it wouldn't mean anything to any other God, but that was his symbol.

It honestly made him intrigued yet angered. Someone manage to go through his woods-unnoticed.

Maybe one of the kids gained Stockholm syndrome. If so that'd be a problem, though he would've sensed it.

A huff left him-frustrated.

Recently one of the kids got sighted and deep web reports some of the activity and some are already worldwide conspiracies.

He's a God, yet with no blood or any recent humans to feed on in decades he was getting weak.

Humans were getting smarter, not letting their kids out, or going out alone. Every adult came in groups of 10. He likely could defeat them but it'd risk getting sighted.

Of course the kids didn't know, because his strength still outmatched children, because kids are still kids even with supernatural power.

He had to get it under control because eventually one of the kids will see one and question it.

Despite that, he never threw them away. Just tore them off and placed them in a box near his desk.

The person already knew he existed, who else would be tearing up the papers? These woods had been abandoned for years.

Later when he returns, if he has time he'll reread them. Trying to see if there were clues left behind why you were doing this. Maybe you were taunting him or another God daunting his abilities.

Though he couldn't find any secret messages. As if you really admired him.

Thousands of thoughts came colliding. Maybe you were a child looking for a way out, and you didn't think he was going to kill you.

Though you weren't any of those things, you were an adult who simply admired his beauty, and deemed him as God. Which he was, just not the kind people praised, he never cared anyway.

-

Later tonight, when the moon is shining and the fog is thick. There he is waiting in the dark.

Ready to slaughter whatever God or child opposed him.

He heard the crackling of leaves, but the footsteps were swift and fast.

In the shadows arose a silhouette, he was tilted ready to strike.

But happily you hopped in the shadows unbeknownst a monster behind you. Seeing you made him question himself, did he really get that weak?

He thought you were a God mocking him, A experienced teen trying to get revenge on him. Yet here you were, with the notes in a small basket.

Placing them carefully on your tiptoes. Not trying to be discreet at all. Simply as if you were passing by and throwing mail.

Though it was odd, it was dumb. He was a monster, he's going to kill you.

He thinks?

He didn't move, as if he forgot how to think. He just watched, watched you do the thing he swore to hate. Even going as far to think about reading them tomorrow.

But he had to act he had to feed.

So he stepped out of the woods, though his bodies froze again. To focused on the kill and not hearing the stick he snapped, to busy focusing on their heartbeat.

You turned behind you and caught a glimpse of him.

A gasp left your lips, he came to see you didn't he?

As sweet as you were, you were just as delusional.

"Hello! Did you like my letters?"

Poor oblivious you, he thought. Lamb in a slaughterhouse.

"I tried to draw you but you were to quick last time."

So that's what that stickman drawing was about, nonetheless you were a fool. He imaged himself killing you over and over again. Yet here you were putting the rest of your doddles and letters up.

"Can you talk?"

He could speak, scare her dammit. Is all he repeated, is all he wanted to say. But a word didn't dare to leave his mouthless face.

"I guess its pointless to put these up now huh?"

And with a swift move they tore their papers down, he wanted to scream tell them to leave them be but he couldn't. In front of him was his admirer, devotee, disciple.

His first.

He watched you step towards him in silence, placing the basket at his feet.

"God your tall."

Your sweet coercing chuckle. He mimicked your voice mocking you.

"God your tall."

You gasped, he thought you'd find it scary but you squealed and called it cool, you had no idea how many he's led to their deaths with the same trick.

"You can mimic? Wait can you do like anybody's voice?"

They just kept asking more and more questions, the moon shined on them so intimately. You were talking to him as if tentacles didn't decorate his back and sides.

As if he wasn't a faceless nearly omnipotent being.

As if he was human.

You got comfortable and just started talking, blabbering on and on about every event possible. Yet he stood and took in every word. From how you've become his devotee.

To your parents, why you love the woods and always knew there was something bigger out there.

Even after the conversations were over you didn't leave, he could tell you only wanted to stay because he hadn't left yet, He watched as you yawned, leaned and laid on his leg.

And before you know it you were sleep. He put his tentacle under your head as if a cushion. No doubt it was way softer.

He let it sink in, let you sink in.

Your heartbeat, your breaths, your smell.

Of course he was going to kill you, maybe tomorrow or next week, or at least that's what he tried to tell himself but for now he'll just have to take you home.

[exitpursuedbyavulcan]

A collection of all my writing. ♡

My Fic Recs

12 Days of Smuff Masterlist

Aemond Targaryen x OC

Series Masterlist (ONGOING) (18+)

Lady Arianwyn Targaryen, Lady of Runestone, was not born of love. Nor passion. Nor even a sense of duty. She was seeded by her father, the Rogue Prince Daemon Targaryen, in an act of unbridled hatred, and borne of her mother, the late Lady Rhea Royce, as a desperate grasp at revenge. But even a child born of such darkness can find her way to the light. With her mother dead, and father flown across the Narrow Sea with a new wife, the girl is taken in by her Aunt, the Queen Alicent Hightower, to be raised among the little family she has left. There, she finds her cousin, Prince Aemond Targaryen. As they grow, the two find themselves indelibly bonded. The two spend long nights in the palace library together, studying the histories of both Old Valyria and the First Men, seeking to understand who they are and where they fit in the world. But finding that place proves more difficult than in the fairy tales they read. The seeds of disaster were laid long before they were born, and as tensions in the family rise, it seems as though their places may begin to diverge. Will they let themselves be pulled apart as the dragons dance?

Warnings: Mentions of rape, m/f smut, violence

Studious (Completed) (18+) Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Moodboard by @sapphirehearteyes

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI

Your marriage to the One-Eyed Prince is not as romantic as you hoped. The wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. But you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel. And though you don't know it, he is drawn to you as well.

Warnings: SMUT, p in v sex, masturbation (m and f) bad sex (these kids have no idea what they're doing), Aegon saying Aegon things, all the awkwardness in the world

What is Broken (Completed) Aemond Targaryen x Pregnant Sister-wife!Reader

Series Masterlist

The war, the "Dance of the Dragons," as they have come to call it, is over. And yet, you are not celebrating. You have just learned that your husband, Prince Aemond, spent the last months of the war with another woman in his bed. Not only that, but his mistress is pregnant. Just like you...

Warnings: Angst, pregnancy and related symptoms, infidelity, childbirth

Inconceivable (WIP) Aemond Targaryen x Sister!Reader

Part I - Part II

Westeros has been at peace for nearly a year, and a wedding has been planned to celebrate the anniversary. King Jacaerys will marry his aunt, the only surviving child of the Greens, and unite both Targaryen bloodlines at last. It is a fairy tale ending, but this is no ordinary fairy tale...

Warnings: Fencing, fighting, torture, revenge, giants, monsters, chases, escapes, true love, miracles... Angst, grief, forced marriage, more to be added

My Fair Lady's Maid (WIP) (18+) Prince Aemond Targaryen x Lady's Maid!Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III - Part IV - Part V - Part VI - Part VII - Part VIII - Part IX - Part X

Frustrated with his grandsire's tedious and thorough process of choosing him a "suitable" bride, Aemond makes a declaration that a lady's maid could be indistinguishable from a true noblewoman so long as she was sufficiently dressed and educated in embroidery, conversation, and the like. Otto takes this as a challenge, and gives Aemond four months to turn one of Helaena's lady's maids into a noblewoman.

Warnings: Aemond being an entire cunt

The Girl at the Table (WIP) (18+) Michael Gavey x Reader

Michael has a plan for Oxford: complete his degree at the top of the class, avoid the wealthy, spoiled pricks that make up the majority of the student body, and stay focused. The plan begins well, until a girl begins sitting at his study table.

Warnings: Smut, math

Monsters in the Garden (ONGOING) (DDDNE) (18+) Ettore x Reader

Part I - Part II - Part III

No one comes to your garden but you, not even Dr. Dibs. So what is the most dangerous man on the ship doing leaning against your doorway and watching you work?

Warnings: SMUT; hand job; kissing; blood; mentions of rape, murder, and violence; female genital mutilation; vague mentions of corpse mutilation

Storge, Philia, Eros, and Agape (WIP) Osferth x Reader

Series Masterlist

When he arrives in Coccham to join with Lord Uhtred Ragnarsson's band of righteous warrior, Osferth does not get the greeting he expected. Uhtred himself is very clear that he has only accepted the young monk to irritate his father, and the few warriors he is introduced to delight in picking fun at him. Still, it is better than the monastery, the Lady of the estate is kind to him, and the servant girl who leads him to his new chambers is... something entirely new to Osferth. Something that, perhaps, will help him understand what the Bible means when it speaks of love.

Note: This is a series of inter-connected oneshots that can be read together or on their own.

That Pointy-Eared Blond Bastard (WIP) (18+) Half-Vulcan!Aemond x Human(?)Reader

Graduation - Away Team - Red Alert - Holodeck - Pon Farr

You are Aemond's greatest rival at Starfleet Academy. Or you would be, if he cared enough to have rivals. Vulcans don't care that much. But Aemond is only half Vulcan. And you... you bring out something decidedly non-Vulcan in him.

A Companion (WIP) Otto Hightower x Young Widow!Reader

Series Masterlist

At the suggestion of Princess Rhaenyra, King Viserys Targaryen had commanded that his Hand, Otto Hightower, find a new bride. Preferably at the King's own wedding to Otto's daughter Alicent. While the Princess intended the suggestion as a form of revenge for Otto's machinations which led to the royal engagement, he intends to make the best of it. While he has always known that his late wife, Madelyn, is the great love of his life, he welcomes the idea of finding a tolerable companion. What he doesn't expect is you, a lady widowed far too young, who begins to spark feelings within him he thought long extinguished.

[thequietkid-moonie]

Yandere Aquamarine Hoshino - Headcanons

[ YANDERE HEADCANONS ]

[ Oshi no Ko ]

⚠️ Yandere, I don't support nor try to romanticize this toxic behaivor, is just for entretaiment

I really REALLY love Aqua, he is just so ✨ amazing ✨ Thank you so much all the ppl who asked me to write this, it gave me a lot of motivation. This is dedicated to them!! I reaaaaaally hope you like it as much as I love Aqua did!!

Also, please be aware that I've only seen the anime!!

After dying tragically he was blessed with a new life, being rencarned as the son of the person he admired and loved the most in the entire world, now going by the name of Aquamarine he started to live a dream life, it wasn't all perfect but it was amazing nonetheless, and Aqua wouldn't change his new life for anything else

However, the cruel destiny had others plans and an unfortunate day life would be taken in cold blood from his beloved Ai, and not just that, Aqua had been forced to watch his beloved mother bleed to death and give them her last breath with an I love you without being able to do anything, even when he had the knowledge and determination to help her his body was too small and young to do anything

That day Aqua doesn't just lost his mother, he lost the most important person in his life, the one he loved the most, the one that was the light of his life, losing Ai is something that Aqua never got over it and felt like he had nothing else in life, it becomes his whole purpose to take revenge to her death because he feels like his life lost all purpose without her, Aqua was sure that nothing could ever bring him so much joy and happiness to his life after losing Ai... but he was wrong

Aqua was always focused in his plan, that much that he almost completely forgot about the rest of the world, he was too focused on achiving his revenge and protecting his sister that he almost lose the opportunity to light up his life again, he almost lose the most important person in his life once again without noticing it

Getting to know Aqua was pretty difficult from your side, so if it isn't you the one who were interested at first and insist it has to be the other side, being Aqua who grows interested on you after noticing how bright you are, how much potential you have to bring joy and light to others life (however, if it depends on him it would take some time because even if he noticed it pretty quickly he doesn't want to just get excited so soon)

Is a slowly process to get Aqua's attention and get close to him but when it happens it will be a point of no return, once Aqua noticed you and get interested on you there is no way you will be able to get away from him, not matter what you do he isn't going to lose the light of his life again

Aqua doesn't want to get all excited immediatly by you, even when his heart is racing and his chest feels warm and fuzzy, a feeling he swears that he only had when seeing one of the presentations of Ai, at first he doesn't want to accept it and will see you pretty wary, prying every little detail he can get of you, getting a point were he is just following you around without your knowledge, all of this with the excuse that he has a feeling about you, but is a feeling that he doesn't comprehend

It reach a point where it start to become pretty obvious that something is bugging his mind, Ruby, Miyako and even the director notice how distracted he seems lately and they started to point it out for being worried, he is normally calm and composed but right now he seems troubled and maybe even anxious and still he denies everything

It take him a while to understand his feelings, he is so used to being focused on his revenge that he doesn't fully understand that what he feels for you is and intense love and an overwhelming need to protect you, he isn't wary of you but of everything around you, you are just too bright! too beautiful! too special! he can't help but feel atracted to you, you are like a ray of bright hope that illuminates his dark and empty world, you make him feel more than regret and desire for revenge

The moment he finally realice the inmense love he feels for you Aqua has a moment of feeling immensely desperate, he already lost the most important person in his life once and the only though of something happening to you freak him out, Aqua NEEDS to be close to you, Aqua NEEDS to protect you, so after his initial anxiety he quickly start to work on his plan to get close to you (even if you already tried to befriend him he needs to feel like he is doing something to get close to you), he had already a lot of information about you so now he just has to use it to get close to you

It actually doesn't take much time before you two become close friends, Aqua is really smart and he can easily act in a way that will make you easily like him and trust him, so in no time you two become close. The main objective of Aqua was be able to protect you but as the time pass and you two get to know each others more (he prying more and more information about you without your knowledge) he can't help but fall more and more in love with you, with every moment you two spend together Aqua is more and more convinced that you are perfect, that you truly are a star that illuminates his life

Aqua has a big soft spot for you, it doesn't matter how you are or what you do together, every moment Aqua has the opportunity to spend with you where your fully attention is focused on him, where is just the two of you it feels so pure and magical, it feels like a true bless for him to be able to bask in your presence and do anything and everything, even just small and mundane chats feels so soft and warm, a really refreshing environment and a break from his usual sadness. That is why Aqua hates with his entire being whenever someone dare to interrupt the two of you in one of those moments, it isn't always that he has the opportunity to be with you alone or take a break of his plans of revenge and being interrupted is like if others where forcing him to return to the cruel reality that just want to take you away from him (even if is Ruby who interrupt he gets mad, however he can't really stay that way for too long to his sister)

There are moments where Aqua feels like he shouldn't be near you, he feels like he will just bring you problems if he continue insisting on interfere with your life, like if you will be safe and will be better if he just let you go away and be free from him, what he wants the most is your safety and happiness and he can't help but feel like if he himself were a danger for you, but that thought is quickly vanished the moment he sees you again, Aqua can't just live without you, you are the light of his life, he needs you and if that means to protect you with his life he is more than willing to do so

Aqua is always lying and acting to achieve his goal but as the time pass is more and more difficult for him to lie to you, his true self just slips from his lips without being able to stop it in time, he just let you know things that are personal to him, like his feelings or what he wish, and yet he never is completely sincere, he won't let you see that part of him that wants you all for himself or that part of him that is burning with a desire of revenge, not completely at least

Just as his love for you grows it also does his need to protect you, he even start to become pretty possessive over you, is just that the memory of what happened to Ai hunt him down, the impotence and terror he felt that day fulfill him with anxiety, it even bring him nightmares sometimes about you walking away from him or even dying in front of him without being able to do something to prevent it

Aqua is already afraid of something happening to you, but if you work in the entertainment industry his worries just increase, he knows how crazy the fans can be and he wants to protect you from anything of everything so a situation like this will make him really worried. It would depend in how far you had come to what he will do, if you are just starting he will sabotage your work just for you to have no other option to leave it and try with another work less dangerous (also, taking advantage of the situation to comfort you about all of this and get closer to you, something he is not proud of), but if you already are famous, even a little, he won't do much since it could be very complicate or bring you problems, Aqua will try to stay calm and just support you but he is easy to trigger, at the minimal sign that you could be in danger (physicaly or mentally) he will start making a plan to make your career fail in a way that won't be suspicious or seem too unfair

Aqua never show this part of him to you nor directly warn you of posible dangers, he want you to think that nothing will ever hurt you, you shouldn't worry your pretty head about such terrible posibility because he will make sure it never happens, even if he has to investigate every single person in your life to make sure non of them will represent a threat. However he tent to indirectly tell you that not everyone is worthy of your trust (except from him since he already showed you of being trust worthy)

Aqua is willing to do everything in his power to assure your safety and to assure that you will never leave his side, if he has to manipulative everything around you to make you see that he is the only safe option or even manipulate you to become completely depend on him he will. However he won't be so happy with having to manipulate you, deep down in his heart he wants for you to care for him and love him just as he loves you just for who you are, and also he want for you to never lose your brightness, he will feel terrible to do something against you but his anxiety doesn't let him alone, your safety is his first priority and Aqua is willing to do anything he has to keep you by his side and be able to see your beautiful smile every day

Aqua will make sure you trust him so much that he can easily lull you to do what he wants, he knows what is better for you, he just want to keep you safe, he knows what is better for you, you don't have to worry about anything because he is here to protect you from anything and everything, you can feel free to put your life into his hands because he will take care of you like delicate and beautiful star you are, he won't let anyone reach you ever again, you won't have to worry about anything again, you have him and that is the only thing you need, he will care for you and love you just the way you deserve for the rest of eternity

Tagging the people who were wanting for this, thank you so much for you patient I hope you like it!!

@lumiriai @azriel-sama @miyakoa @elysiaxas @kwelibeeery @daily-average @gloxiniasbitch @kult-o

[dira333]

Assistant to the Hero Part II - Amajiki x Reader

Requested and beta'd by @fuzztacular , Part of my Follower Celebration

Part I - Masterlist

3,5 Months as his assistant

There are no more gifts on your desk.

Instead, you find them in front of your room at the most random of times.

One of your favorites, a blue piece of sea glass, sits next to your coffee cup one morning.

Amajiki’s sitting at the table just a few steps away, finishing his breakfast.

“Thank you.” You say, picking up the sea glass. He must have put it there while you went to the bathroom.

“It reminded me of you.” He says, voice almost calm.

“Because I’m blue?” You tease and hold it in front of your left eye as if to look through.

“It’s rare.” He says instead, a distant look in his eyes you cannot place.

-

Amajiki places a DVD on your desk just after lunch.

You glance down at the cover and back up to him.

“Where did you get that?”

“Mirio’s girlfriend lent it to me.”

“Why?”

He shrugs, blushing. “I told her you wanted to see it. It’s for movie night.”

“We can’t always watch what I want to see. You gotta pick the next one.”

He nods, a little smile pulling at his lips.

-

“Here.” You grab two Bento Boxes from the Fridge and present them to Amajiki. “I made us Lunch.”

“Oh?” He opens one of the Boxes. “Octopus sausage?”

“I’ll put the real thing in next time. You just have to tell me when you want Lunch and when you want to eat out, okay?”

“Yeah.” That little smile is back and you wish you could look at it a little while longer without being a creep.

-

It’s Tuesday and you’re on the Couch, hot water bottle on your stomach, chocolate open on the table in front of you.

Amajiki freezes in the doorway. “Did something happen?” He asks, whispering.

“Huh?” You look up from your book, sniffling. “Oh, no, I’m just… I’m on my period and I’m reading this book… This part is just really sad.”

“Why? What happened?”

“There’s this dog… His owner had a pet-food shop but died and he’s defending the shop in case his owner comes back…”

“And?” Amajiki’s now standing next to the Couch, peering down at you anxiously.

“The bad guys just destroyed the shop.”

“Oh no.” 

“Yeah.” You nod, wiping your eyes. “But there’s this guy, he’s a little silly, but he means well, and I think he’s going to help the dog take revenge.”

“Is he?”

“I don’t know yet, I’ve just read this, listen…”

When the chapter ends and your voice is hoarse from reading, the dog’s fate is still not decided.

It might be your Hormones speaking, but Amajiki seems interested in its fate just as much as you are so you pat the spot next to you and urge him to come closer, hold the book out so that both of you can read at once.

When it does end happy, you sink back into the cushions with a happy sigh.

“That was a good book.” Amajiki mumbles next to you.

“It was.” You hum happily, sleep pulling you in. “Do you read too?”

“Yeah.”

“What kind of stuff?” You close your eyes as you speak. Just for a second, to rest your eyes, you tell yourself.

“I can show you next time.” He offers and you nod.

“Next Tuesday, kay?” You mumble, words a little slurred.

-

4,5 Months as his assistant

You’re in the middle of making Dinner when Amajiki comes home from the gym.

“I’m going to shower.” He says right after greeting, shuffling off to the bathroom.

“Kay, but don’t take too long. I’m making Takoyaki.”

-

Dinner is the time when Amajiki is the least nervous. 

He’s usually focused on his food, doesn’t have to listen, doesn’t have to look at you and you can’t help but use this to your advantage.

It’s the only time you really get to look at him, at the little satisfied smile that curls around his lips when he likes the food or how his nose scrunches up when he’s not that fond of it. He doesn’t have the biggest appetite, but with his quirk, he likes to try new things.

Tonight, his hair is still wet from the shower, a floppy, dark mess that’s only parted by his ears.

Your eyes find them eventually, and not for the first time you wonder if they’re sensitive. They remind you of cats ears and the thought of him as a little Neko has you dig into your food, trying to calm your racing heart.

“Do you want to go out for Lunch tomorrow?” Amajiki asks, voice a little shaky.

When you look up, surprised by his sudden question, the tips of his ears are red and a blush is working its way onto his face.

“I didn’t make a Bento Box yet, so if you want to eat out, that’s no problem.”

“No, I mean, yes… but, do you want to get Lunch… together?”

You blink in surprise. A thought hits you, its implications making your heart skip before you berate yourself. No, it’s definitely not a date, don’t get ahead of yourself.

“Sure. I’d love to. Where did you want to go?”

Amajiki doesn’t talk for a moment, mouth open as if he’s still processing your answer.

“Amajiki?”

“Oh, yes.” He snaps back to himself. “There’s a new restaurant down the street. They make Butter Chicken and you mentioned you like that.”

“Oh, Butter Chicken!” You clap your hands in excitement. “You know me so well.”

He chuckles and nods, turns back to his meal.

It’s a Tuesday, and just like the weeks before, he leaves for his room right after dinner to pick out the book he wants to read tonight. He gets the snacks and the drinks, preps the living room while you do the dishes.

Tuesdays, like Fridays, have become a thing in your household. On Tuesdays you read books, on Fridays you watch a movie. He doesn’t have that many other nights that he’s consistantly home at the same time as Patrol times love to change, but you find yourself next to him at least two times more each week, trying out some new video game his best friend recommended or watching the Hero news together.

It’s cozy and it makes you feel like you’re in a relationship, making it harder and harder to keep yourself focused on the truth. He is just a friend, you’re just his roommate. And his assistant.

-

On your way out of the agency, you meet Kirishima, who beams at you.

“Hey, long time no see. How are you?”

“I’m doing great. Are you going for lunch too? We’re trying out the new restaurant down the street.”

“I-” Kirishima stutters to your surprise. When you glance at Amajiki for backup, you realize why. Amajiki’s leveling Kirishima with a glare you’ve never seen on him before.

“Everything okay, Amajiki?” He seems to snap back to himself, shaking his head a little as if to clear his mind.

“Everything fine. Sorry, I think I zoned out a little. But I think Kirishima’s already busy. He mentioned something earlier, right?”

“Right.” Kirishima clears his throat awkwardly. “But have fun, you guys.”

-

It’s awkward at first. 

You’re used to eating with him, at the kitchen table in your shared apartment, where he’s as calm and collected as he can possibly be.

But it’s different out here. 

He barely opens his mouth, even though you get the table at the back. Once, twice his hand moves across the table as if trying to touch yours but he always pulls back. 

You wouldn’t have minded his touch, not if it would make him more comfortable and even less if it meant he was that comfortable with you.  

But he doesn’t seem to dare and you don’t either.

“This was nice.” You still point out when it’s time to pay. His mouth tells you that he’s getting anxious again, that thin, wobbly line you will always be able to recognize him by. “We should do it again.”

“Really?” He asks, his eyes on your shoulder to avoid eye contact while you watch the fingers of his left-hand play with the sleeve of his cardigan on his right arm.

“Really.” You nod to emphasize your point.

When the waiter arrives with the bill, Amajiki moves to pay.

“I got it.” He points out firmly when you still grab your wallet. “It’s on me.”

“You don’t have to-” You insist, only to be interrupted.

“You two are very cute.” The waiter, a middle-aged guy, all but swoons at your sight. “First dates are so precious, am I right?” 

Amajiki blushes up to the tips of his ears, but he doesn’t deny it.

And even though it’s not real, you don’t deny it either. 

Even if it’s just a silly little fantasy, it’s nice to live in it, if only for a moment.

-

6 months as his assistant

It’s Saturday morning and the sun is peaking through the window.

You need a minute to wrap your head around the fact that you’re sleeping on the Couch.

It’s warm and comfy under the blankets and if not for your bladder screaming at you, you could stay here forever.

As you slowly work at untangling your legs from the blanket, something moves by your side. With a low groan, Amajiki lifts his head, stretches out his arm, and pulls you closer toward him, settling his face in your neck.

You freeze. Are you still asleep? Did your usual dreams become hyperrealistic all of a sudden?

But his breath tickles your skin and you can’t imagine the weight of his arm over your chest, right?

A part of yourself - the part that doesn’t need to pee - tells you to go back to sleep. You’ll never get a chance like this if Amajiki was awake.

But the larger part of yourself screams at you to get up.

If Amajiki wouldn’t do this if he was awake you have no right to use his sleeping body to cuddle. Carefully you pick up his arm and slip out from beneath it.

When he grumbles, you grab a pillow from the floor and place it where you’d been a second before.

He pulls it closer just like he did with you and digs his nose into the soft fabric.

Amajiki looks, there’s no denying it, as cute as a kitten. 

Your hand darts out before you can stop yourself, to push a stray lock of dark blue hair behind his ear. His hair is soft and he sighs at the touch, relaxing further into the pillows.

You sigh. 

“Amajiki.” You whisper. No reaction. “I’m falling in love with you.”

He lets out a tiny snore and you swallow your emotions for yet another day and turn for the bathroom. If he asks about this, you’ll deny it ever happened.

-

You wonder if he can feel it.

The shift in the air. The new awkwardness that wasn’t there before.

How your eyes seem to get stuck on his mouth whenever you talk. 

You’ve always been hyperaware of him, but this is a different level.

Your body cannot decide where it wants to be. Near him, where you can see and smell and touch him, or far far away from him where you can forget that this isn’t a thing. You’re just roommates, coworkers, maybe friends.

There’s no denying that you need a little space, so you skip lunch with him in favor of locking yourself in a bathroom stall and calling Kyoko.

“Are you sure you don’t have a chance?” She asks, always the voice of reason.

“We have a good thing going on.” You say instead. “I work for him. I don’t want to jeopardize that. I wouldn’t be able to look at myself if I was the reason he feels no longer safe at work.”

“Well, you know the theory of getting over feelings like that. But are you ready to put that into practice?”

“What do you mean?” You know exactly what she means. You just don’t want to hear it.

But Kyoko isn’t your best friend because she keeps the ugly truth to herself. 

“You will have to move out. I know that this is part of your ‘good thing’ but you cannot stay there and get over yourself. Imagine how it would be if he brought home a girl.”

Her words are like knives to your heart. Wet stains appear on your skirt and you realize that you’ve started crying, soundlessly.

You really, really, really don’t want to move out. You don’t want to lose what you have, but this is the real world. You can’t have your cake and eat it too.

“Okay.” Your voice sounds almost normal and Kyoko does not comment on it. “I’ll start looking. Talk to you soon, okay?”

“Okay. Love you, take care.”

The call ends and you lean back, rest your head on the wall, and pull your knees up to your chest. Not the most comfortable position to sit on a toilet seat, but you’re not at your most comfortable to begin with.

The door opens. You freeze, well aware of how you must look. You put on Mascara this morning, the non-waterproof-kind. You will not show yourself to anyone until your makeup is fixed.

“No one here.” A voice says from the door. “So, what’s the tea?”

“I heard Kirishima started dating someone.”

“What? No.” The first voice groans in annoyance. “I mean he was kinda silly, but he was hot. And he’s going to be one of the major sidekicks in no time. He’d earn so much money. Goodbye work, hello life of a stay-at-home girlfriend.”

“I know, right? Apparently, it’s some girl he went to school with.”

“Ugh, don’t tell me it’s that Heteromorph Pinky. He doesn’t have any taste. But what else is new?”

“Well, Suneater is dating too.” 

Your heart freezes, stops after one painful last thump. What?

“That’s old news. How long has that been going on? I told you that girl only got the job as his assistant because he told Fatgum to put her there. They’ve been dating way before she became his assistant.”

“Do you think so? They didn’t seem that close.”

“Yeah, but Kirishima was so over the moon when she got the position, I tell you that they had a thing going on. Also, remember how she told me off when I tried to talk to Suneater? I work inAccounting, my role is way more important than hers.”

“Well, cheer up.” Accounting-girl’s friend seems annoyed now. This topic must be old news too. Your mind’s still reeling from what you’ve just heard.

They think that you’re dating Amajiki? You? That you got the job because of him?

“I heard that Lemillion is going to switch to our agency. This is top secret, but apparently, he and his girlfriend broke up and he wants to put some distance between them. It makes sense for him to move to his best friend's side, right?”

“Oh, Lemillion is hot! And he makes even more money than Suneater because he knows how to talk to people. I’ll keep an eye on the books. We have to look our best when he comes in.”

Someone’s phone chimes and shortly after that, silence falls over the room. 

You’re still catching your breath, reeling from all the revelations and your heart’s reaction to it.

If you react like this to the mere mention of Amajiki dating, Kyoko is right. You need to get some distance between the two of you.

And while you don’t know how much of the other gossip you should believe, there’s a point there that you cannot deny.

Lemillion is Amajiki’s best friend. If he broke up with his girlfriend, it would make sense for him to come back, and claim his old room again. You wouldn’t put it against him to want the comfort. But you’re in the way of said comfort.

You know what you must do.

-

7 months as his assistant

Finding an apartment isn’t easy, even when you’re not picky.

You know you can’t move back to where you came from. There is no argument that Amajiki or Kirishima would believe, no reason for you to go back to that. You earn nowhere near enough to be able to afford an apartment in the district you’re living in right now, so you search a bit further away from the agency. 

With your portion of the rent being so low and Amajiki constantly demanding to pay when you go out for lunch, you’ve saved up quite a bit, but you cannot use that to pay for your rent. So you widen your search parameter even more.

When you find one apartment that’s actually feasible, it comes with a one-hour drive and the last train leaves at six. To make that, you’d have to leave early every day and while you know Fatgum won’t mind that once or twice, you can’t ask for a favor like that.

So you swallow all your pride and stop Kirishima the next time you see him.

“Hey, I… kinda need your help.”

“Oh? Sure, what do you need?”

“I…” You pull him to the side, away from possible prying ears and eyes. “I need to look for a new apartment.”

“What?” Kirishima blinks in surprise. “Why?”

“That’s… a difficult story. But do you… know, someone? Like from your class or even younger, who could need a roommate? I don’t mind cleaning and cooking if I can save on rent.”

“Sure, I mean, I know Shoji is looking for a roommate right now. But are you sure? What about Amajiki?”

“He’s fine.” You insist. “I don’t want to bother him any longer.”

“Bother… him?” Something seems to click in Kirishima’s mind, but whatever it is, it clicked the wrong way. 

“I’ll talk to him.” He insists, his voice way too determined.

“What? No, Kirishima, that’s not-”

“I thought he was a good guy.” He’s not listening to you, arms hardened as he moves past you. Your grip just slips off and all you can do is run after him.

You find Amajiki in his office, alone, thank god.

“Amajiki!” Kirishima’s voice booms through the room and you throw the door closed in the hopes of avoiding a scandal. 

“Keep your voice down.” You tell him, but he won’t listen.

Amajiki looks confused. Not scared, which you’re thankful for, but confused. And you can understand that. You’re confused as well.

“What’s going on, Kirishima?”

“How can you treat her that way?!” Kirishima asks, pointing at you. You blink back.

“What are you talking about?” You ask, face burning as Amajiki look over, worry evident in his eyes.

“When you started dating, I told you that if you hurt her, I’ll make sure you hurt even more. Kicking her out? That’s hurting her.”

“What the-” You start, but stop when Kirishima lunges over Amajiki’s desk.

“ENOUGH!” You yell, and to your surprise, Kirishima freezes for the first time since he’s started down this path of whatever he’s trying to achieve.

“WHAT?” He asks, clearly unhappy about your interruption.

“We are not dating!” You point out. “And even if we were, you have no right to play big brother.”

“We’re… not… dating?” Amajiki’s voice is low and quiet, but it still manages to cut through the tense atmosphere like a butcher’s knife.

It’s your turn to freeze, to have trouble breathing. 

Amajiki looks confused, Kirishima looks confused and well, you’re not sure what you’re looking like, but you definitely feel confused. 

“I-” You start. “What?”

“Well, my bad.” Kirishima holds up his hand defensively, waves them around as he chuckles awkwardly. “I’ll… I guess I’ll let you two talk this out. If you need me, I’ll be back at my desk and… uh, if you need Shoji’s info, let me know.” He backs out of the room with a tense smile on his face, leaving you and Amajiki to stare at each other.

Well, you stare at each other’s bodies, avoiding eye-contact, but you’re used to that by now.

-

In the end it's the realization that avoiding eye contact might have gotten you into this mess that has you look straight at him. He’s blushing and you feel a little sorry, but you need to make sense of this situation.

“Amajiki?” You ask, voice soft. “Can you tell me why you thought we were dating? I won't be mad, I promise.”

He shrugs and looks down at his shoes. You wait, well aware that he probably needs a few moments to gather himself. 

“Washio-san said you liked me too.” He starts, confusing you even more. Washio-san? Wait, you liked him too?

But before you can ask, he speaks on.

“She said that I should make sure to give you enough attention. And… and that girls like gifts. So I got you stuff, you know.”

“Oh my god.” You whisper, realizing that he's referring to the little trinkets he’d brought in ever since you started working for him.

Wait, if Washio-san was aware-

“Does… does Fatgum know?

“Of course.” Oh my god. “I told him… when you reciprocated.”

You're left stunned and he adds softly: “You brought me that pebble.”

“But we never… I mean, we didn't…” You press your hands together for a lack of words. He seems to understand nonetheless, flushing profusely.

“Mirio said… he said… well, I asked and he… not everyone liked doing… that… I thought you were not into it. I didn't want to make you uncomfortable.”

“Oh. My. God.”

Silence falls over the room as you process things.

By the time you come back to reality - your stomach rather forcefully reminds you that you haven't eaten yet, your lunch break wasted on… more pressing matters - Amajiki has drawn into himself. He's sitting at his desk, seemingly occupied by a file, but you can tell he's not reading. 

You swallow your nerves and get up, walk over to his desk until you are right next to him. You push your back into the desk but instead of facing him directly, you focus on the tip of his left ear. It's flushed, the bright red a stark contrast to his dark hair.

“I have had a crush on you for ages.” You confess, forcing your voice to stay calm. “I didn't want to ask for the role as your assistant because in the end, you need to be comfortable with who you are working with, but I was hoping I would get it. Kirishima and I celebrated when I got the job, he might have… he might have told you.” You swallow thickly.

“I don't know if boy crushes are the same but girls… we tend to think that we’re not good enough. It paints everything in a different light. You ask me out on a date and I think you can’t possibly mean that, that you want to be just friends.”

He’s stiff as a board, but he doesn't speak up, so you continue. He told you his side of the story, so you owe him as much.

“If you're still up for it… I’d love to date you. For real this time.”

“Are you sure?” He asks, voice the tiniest bit wobbly.

“Absolutely.” You nod to emphasize your point and slide your hand across the table until it knocks into his. “And I do like… to do… that.” His hand grips yours, warm and strong, fits around yours like it was meant for that. 

Your heart beats loudly in your ears as you lean in, waiting for him to stop you but he doesn't. Your temple touches his, warm skin against warm skin. His eyes are wide open, his skin is flushed. You don't kiss, don't need to. It's enough for now to share your breath, share the warmth and the knowledge of your feelings.

“I really, really like you.” You point out, exhilarated when his lips pull into a smile that can only be described as giddy.

-

9 months as his assistant/girlfriend

The bed is way too warm to leave it, even though your bladder insists on doing just that.

Tamaki is spooning you, his face hidden against your shoulder blades, his messy bed head tickling your skin.

You drag your fingers across the arm that's holding you close. It's the softest of touches, barely enough to register in Tamaki's sleepy brain. But it works and his grip goes slack. You roll out of it, hand already in his hair when the absence of your warmth has him pout, even deeply asleep as he is now. He curls into himself in a matter of seconds, pout still on his face even as he starts snoring.

The shirt he wore yesterday still hangs on his desk chair and you slip into it. You don't want to give your new roommate nightmares.

When you step out of the bathroom, you're welcomed by the clattering of dishes and the smell of fresh waffles.

"Morning." You greet Shoji, who nods back.

He moved in two weeks ago when it became clear that he couldn't find a roommate and Tamaki wouldn't let you sleep in your own bed anyway. He insisted on sound proofing both bed rooms before moving in, but he's a quiet and friendly guy and you definitely do not mind his expertise in the kitchen.

"I have patrol today." Shoji points out minutes later, putting the waffles on three plates while you pour coffee into cups and do your best in putting the blueberries on the plates instead of into your mouth. "I'll be home late."

"Okay. I'm making curry tonight, I'll put your portion to the side."

He nods and smiles, before muttering: "Amajiki just woke up."

"How did you hear-" You start before you can see it too. Tentacles crawl over the floor, their movement sluggish but their goal clear.

You barely manage to jump to the side and put the coffee pot away before one snatches your legs and pulls.

"Good grief, Tamaki! I'm holding coffee!"

"Come back to bed!" You can barely make out his whining, but you know him by now, have learned quite a bit in the past two months.

There's nothing quite as unfiltered as Tamaki when he's barely awake.

And there's nothing quite as needy as him when he wakes up without you by his side.

"See you." Shoji puts your plates and coffee cups on a serving tray and holds it out for you. You're still struggling with the tentacles wrapped around your bare legs.

"Pull your tentacles back or I'll drink my coffee without you." You try to sound like you mean it, but you've always been an awful actress.

When you get back to the room, Tamaki's spread out on the bed, the arm that produced the tentacles reaching toward the door.

"I don't like waking up without you." He complains as he gets rid of the tentacles. You put the tray on his nightstand and slip into bed, press your now cold toes against his warm legs.

"Like you're already awake." You tease and he grumbles and mumbles, hides his face in your neck. He's on his best way to fall asleep again.

Just as you feel his body going slack, Tamaki moves again. He wakes like a cat, you learned, his nose often awake before the rest of his body follows. Or, like this time, his nose is not willing to go to sleep again.

“Waffles?” He asks, eyes closed. “Blueberries?” 

“And some apple and pear slices.” You point out, kiss the side of his mouth when he tries to move past you to get to the good stuff. His lips pull into a lazy smile and he cuddles back into you, heavy and warm and oh so relaxed.

“Feed me?” He asks. 

You snort but press a warm piece of waffle against his lips, only to kiss the leftover syrup off his lips.

“I could get used to that,” you mumble and he nods and hums and pulls you closer, always closer. 

“Please do.”

...

Half an hour later, when the coffee has trickled into his system and his anxiety is awake again, he's hiding his face against your neck for a different reason.

"I can never show my face again." He insists. "That was so embarassing. What did Shoji think of me, using my quirk for personal gain?!"

"I think he found it funny."

My Kofi if you want to tip me

[circeyoru]

{Demonic Companion} What if the lover is a killer?

This request can also be found in {Demonic Companion _ Part 2}

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@rl8002d

Why do I want the lover to actually be a murderer? 😭 my brain is confused.

😶 getting murdered by our "love" the betrayal! At least in Hell we'd have Alastor

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What if the Lover is a killer? 

Okay, this can go depending on when it’s found out and what type of killer the Lover is (like by directed targets). For the sake of easiness, I’ll call this person LK. from now on (stands for Lover -is a- Killer). Basically I’ll set Alastor to be the one to find out, since love is blind and you’re blind when you in love with LK, also to avoid more scenarios

When it’s found out:

Before you’re crushing on LK or got together — Alastor wouldn’t even know this person. Like LK? Who’s that. Oh, there’s a killer around, so he’ll be protecting you and telling you to be careful. He wouldn’t find the lover’s identity since he’s more focused on you and spending what little time he has with you on Earth

When you’re crushing on LK — Alastor’s in denial for feeling soft and romantic for you, but then he’s jealous that your attention went to another. He lost to a human? It started out as his pride being damaged and challenged, that’s why he went to investigate LK, nothing more, nothing less. But then he found fount this LK was much like him. He’d advise you, perhaps hint at LK’s dark secret, instead of telling you outright. He’s not jealous! But it does make him realize he actually treasures you more than what he led on

During your relationship with LK — Immediate red flags. Alastor wants to make sure you were safe and happy, now that you were not admoured at him, he wants what’s best for you and not in a toxic way. He sees that you really really loves this LK and LK seems to reciprocate back. He’d actually threaten LK since he was doomed to go to Hell, he’d have an eternity to torture LK when LK died if you were so much as hurt, physically, mentality, spirituality, and emotionally

Type of Killer:

Outsider Victims — LK’s killings are random, or are the victims. There’s no linkage and basically points to a serial killer. You wouldn’t be a potential victim since it could tie back to LK. So Alastor is more relaxed but still on edge all the same

Targetted Victims — Think of it as revenge type or with a specific goal in mind. As long as you aren’t on the list, Alastor will keep a hands off approach, but there is the possibility that if you accidentally get in LK’s way, LK might kill you and Alastor won’t have that

Lover Victims — LK’s killings are directed at easy prey. All the past lovers and close friends of LK somehow ended up dead one way or another and LK is still free as a bird. At that point, Alastor will do everything to break off your relationship with LK, no matter the time period stated above (assuming he knows about LK of course)

Now for the exact writing request!

What if you were killed by LK and ended up in Hell with Alastor? (this is on the assumption that Alastor didn’t know LK is a killer)

The last thing you remember was pain and a heartbreak. You remember tears running down your face and the disbelief of the entire situation. You couldn’t believe it. Your 3 year anniversary with LK was your death date. You thought you were going to spend a happy life with LK and Alastor would be watching over you like a guardian angel or demon

When you got to a place with so much red and creatures from fantasy and fiction. You knew you were in Hell. Alastor told you more tales than you can remember, he joked that you’d go to Heaven but you knew you’d go to Hell because you did a demon summoning when you were so so young. You had asked Alastor of his moments in Hell to prepare yourself and you were glad to have done so

“Happy Hotel… I need to go to Hazbin Hotel… I want to see Alastor…” You sobbed again, you didn’t even realize your demon form was more of a ghost than anything. You did love the paranormal after all. Your cries echoed as you floated your way to the hotel, unknowingly causing the demons around you to wither in agony until you were out of earshot. You left along a icy trail behind you while you looked for a way to the hotel

“Radio Demon. Do you know where the Radio Demon is?” You would ask some unlucky sinners and demons. They shiver in your presence while you remained unanswered. Most figured you had a bone to pick with him, wanting to take the title of Overlord. You didn’t realize they were sending you to an early grave since they thought you didn’t know Alastor’s reputation, so they pointed you in the right direction of the hotel

You knocked on the door, ignoring the way you appear, you honestly didn’t know how you looked. The only thing on your mind was that you needed Alastor’s companionship. You patiently waited until someone answered the door, by the looks of it, Charlie Morningstar, the Princess of Hell

“Hi, welcome—” 

She was promptly cut off as you leaned forward, “Radio Demon. Where is Alastor the Radio Demon?”

“What did he do this time.” A lady in so much grey, Vaggie, groaned as she moved away her spear to tap the ends against the floor. “Hey, if you want to cause trouble, can you do it outside of the hotel?”

You didn’t get a chance to explain yourself, though you heard of how many sinners and demons would look for Alastor to do battle in an attempt to gain power and attention. When you heard a voice through static and saw the demon in red, you rushed pass Charlie and Vaggie to hug Alastor by the waist. “Alastor!”

Everyone was having an internal panick attack when they saw you hug Alastor out of nowhere. They all knew you were going to die a painful death.

Alastor’s head tilted to the side as static grew painfully loud. “You are?”

“It’s me.” You tilted your head up to look at him, a frown on your face. “Did you forget?”

His eyes widened a bit in realization and recognition, he returned the hug as the static and darkness toned down. “Darling, Sweetheart, what are you doing down here? And look like this? What of your anniversary?”

Your grip on him tightened, tears flowed again. “I died. LK killed me. So… So… I woke up in Hell and went to find you at the hotel.” You buried your face in his torso as you tightened your hug, crying, “I didn’t know what to do. I didn’t realize what LK was doing. I’m sorry.”

You didn’t even realize his growing murderous aura. The hotel members all stayed silent at the scene, a bit fearful of what Alastor would do if they interrupted the moment. Alastor had to control the urge to destroy the building or anything at the moment, he didn’t want to frighten you any further considering what you went through

“Fortunaturely, my darling, this LK fellow will destine for Hell after death. If you please, you can give LK a taste of revenge. How does that sound?” Poor attempt at comfort, the hotel members all thought. But when you cracked a chuckle, they were amazed and surprised

“You’re still terrible at comforting.” You smiled, letting Alastor wipe away your tears with his claws while you calmed down. “But thanks.” You looked away a bit guilty, “Still, I don’t think I want to see LK again… Especially in Hell. Who knows what LK’ll do.” You gasped, “LK would be more powerful than me! I need to hide, just in case—”

Alastor silenced you with a clawed finger in front of your face, “Shhh, my doe. You’re in Hell, not on Earth anymore.” His grin widened as he kneeled down, while you were smaller and shorter, it seemed to be in your demonic nature to float, much like a ghost would. He held your hand and kissed it, “We could be together anytime and anywhere without judgment.”

You remained hesitant. “But you’re an Overlord and you host the Hazbin Hotel. You were already too busy to visit before. I’ll be a burden… I don’t mind staying in hiding.”

“Nonsense! You shall not be subjected to such thoughts and plans. The hotel has plenty of room or you can stay with me! Nowhere is safer. I assure you.” Alastor smiled. The two of you turned to Charlie who immediately nodded her head to support Alastor’s claims. “See? Our dear princess is a kindhearted soul, she wouldn’t turn you away even if you begged!”

“As long as I’m not a bother.” You spoke softly, your smile returning

“Never, my dear.” Alastor got up, guiding you to the staring members that were watching the entire scene silently without so much as a peep. “Allow me to introduce to you, this is my human friend whom I’ve been visiting since forever! Due to some accident, death has come too early.”

You introduced yourself, bowing a bit as you greeted everything. “Hi there, I’ve heard a lot about you guys from Alastor. He’s quite talkative about the project to redeem demons.”

Alastor watched as the wayward souls warmed up to you as he expected quickly, formally introducing themselves and denying anything that would paint them in a bad light in your lovely eyes. When you giggled and laughed along, he knew you’d enjoy yourself

It was only after everyone turned in for the night and you were sleeping peacefully on his bed without sadness or reminsice of that soul, that he summoned his minions and he let out his wrathful order, “Keep an eye out for that no good lover and bring LK to me alive the moment LK falls.” The shadow minions all scattered, some even escaping to Earth if they could to spy on LK and his inevitable death. “That thing will serve as the perfect courting gift.”

Note: Okay, that's all for now. Cause I don't see any request, so I'll take it as my break until you guy send me some (〜^‿ ^)〜

Circe Y.

[tomssexdoll]

Playing with fire

"And now I'm all up on you, what'd you except?"

PAIRINGS: Tom 2014 x Female reader

CONTENT: ANGST + SMUT + FLUFF

SYPNOSIS: Tom and Y/N were a celebrity couple, they've been broken up for quite a while, Y/N keeps seeing Tom with a new girl every single week. She decides to get her revenge, going to a bar, knowing Tom would be there and finding a random guy as her bait to make Tom jealous.

A/N: HIIII GUYS

WARNINGS: dom!tom, sub!reader, p in v (missionary), sucking d, arguing, mentions of alcohol

Tom and me used to date. He's a famous rockstar, the lead guitarist for his band Tokio Hotel. I was a famous model, always featuring on magazines and on runways. Our break up was sudden, after 2 long years of unconditional love and commitment he just changed, he became cold and distant, always stayed out late and used work as an excuse.

I knew damn well he was lying, I knew Tom really well and picked up on when he was lying, he wasn't a good liar anyways. I was sad over our break up, like any sane person is, but I used things to distract me, to fill the void.

Our break up was all anyone could talk about for months, some saying they'd never believe in love ever again, some saying it was for the better. I hated how people thought they knew us so well, like they were living our lives.

We broke up after I finally snapped, confronting him yet again about his behaviour, this time I didn't forgive him and just stormed out, later breaking up with him through text.

Some days I wish I could just cuddle up in his arms again but I couldn't. Living with the fact that the was gone broke my heart. One day I was at a bar, I had seen he had been fucking around with other girls, paparazzi taking photos of every girl he was seen with in public.

I knew he was going to be at a bar tonight, purposefully planning my entrance, wanting to make sure he saw me without me having to cause a scene. Tonight was all about making him jealous, making him miss what we had.

My plan was to find literally any guy I could and flirt with him, he was my bait for the night. I knew dancing with the guy and grinding on him would drive him absolutely insane. As I arrived, I shortly found my target, a guy with a scruffy beard and short hair, having a drink with his friends.

Tom was in his element, lounging at the bar with a glass of whiskey in hand, trademark dark sunglasses, hiding his piercing gaze from the world. He laughed and chatted with his friends, catching up on the latest girls they'd been with, a nasty scowl forming on my face at their words.

As I approached the random guy, I gently traced my fingers over his shoulder, "well, hello there," I smirked, taking a seat next to him. He grinned in response, turning his body to face me, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "Well hello darling, would you like me to get you a drink?" he said, his voice thick with lust.

"Oh that'd be perfect! Just a vodka redbull please," I smiled and reached into my bag, pulling out my lipgloss and reapplying it. Toms ears perked up when he heard my signature drink, his eyes scanning around and finally setting on me. He raised an eyebrow, taking in my appearance and the man I was basically flirting with next to me, his jaw clenching before turning away.

Tom grunted and just decided to ignore me for now, not wanting his jealously to get the best of him. He focused on his own drink, the amber liquid in the glass swirling as he tried to push down the anger and jealously that threatened to overwhelm him.

I was obnoxiously giggling, even if the guys jokes weren't funny my laughs got louder, trying to get Toms attention again. Toms grip tightened on his glass as he forced himself to continue small talk with his companions. But he couldn't seem to shake off the image of me and the man, my laugh echoing in his mind and driving him crazy.

I could slightly see the affect it was having on him, fuelling my ego even more, driving me to go up a level. After a few more drinks, I got up, grabbing the mans hand and leading him to the dance floor.

Toms heart clenched tightly in his chest as he saw the way the mans hand gripped mine, the hungry look in his eyes as he pulled me close. The song choice was perfect, a dirty, sensual song, the lyrics lewd and graphic. I started to dance with the guy, swaying my hips on him and gently grinding, my mouth slightly agape as he peppered soft kisses onto my neck.

Tom watched as me and the man danced, heat rising within him as he saw me move with such seductive skill. He couldn't take it anymore, slamming his glass down on the table, the sound ringing out through the room as he stood up.

He strode over to the dance floor, determined to claim me back. I knew Tom was approaching, already sensing the anger and jealously coursing throughout him, a slight smirk tugging at the corner of my lips, satisfied that my plan had worked.

Tom quickly pushed the other man away from me, a snarl twisting his lips as he pulled me back against his muscular body. He wrapped his arms around my waist, his hands possessively gripping my hips as he held me close, "stay the fuck away from her, she's mine.." he growled lowly.

He quickly pulled back from me and grabbed my arm, storming off to a quiet, private area. "What the fuck was that, hm?" his grip on my arm tightened, pulling me in closer, his eyes flashing with anger. "What? I was just dancing, we aren't together..remember.." I said, giving him a deadly glare.

"I don't give a single fuck if we aren't together, you're mine and you know that..." he sighed, "what are you doing to me, what are you doing love, you drive me fucking crazy," he grunted.

"Oh shut up, it's not like I don't see every week you're with a new girl, for fuck sakes Tom you're such a hypocrite," I rolled my eyes, crossing my arms over my chest.

"I know that dress is karma, that fucking perfume you're wearing is intoxicating, you got me thinking back to when you were mine.." he mumbled, trapping me against the wall, towering over me.

"You act like you're so innocent, like you don't purposefully get seen with women in public to make me jealous, I know what you're like Tom, if you actually wanted to hook up with those women for yourself you'd do your best to hide them," I sighed, shaking my head. His nostrils flared in annoyance at my words, taking a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper.

He leaned in closer, invading my personal space, "you know me so well, but you still chase after me. Why is that?" he chuckled, "you just want attention, you don't want my heart, maybe you just hate the thought of me with someone new" I knew he was right, I couldn't stand the thought of him with someone who wasn't me.

"See, can't even defend yourself.." he scoffed, shaking his head, "whatever.." I turned to leave, but Tom wasn't having it, "excuse you, where the fuck do you think you're going?" he grabbed my arm, pulling me against him, his eyes boring into mine.

"I'm not fighting with you Tom, i'm not interested," I pulled away, trying to walk off again but to no avail, he grew frustrated and grabbed my arm, harder this time, spinning me around to face him. "Oh no you don't. You're not going anywhere princess.." he dragged me into the bars bathroom, slamming the door behind him and locking it.

He pulled me back into his arms, his hold firm as he looked down at me, "I'm done playing games with you," he growled, smashing his lips into mine. I whined, his hand coming to the back of my head and pulling me in closer, his tongue demanding entry as his hands roamed over my body.

He was a man on a mission, determined to claim me as his again. His grip tightened, dominating the kiss with a fierce intensity. As he pulled back, a small string of saliva followed, our lips red and swollen.

His eyes were dark with desire and possession, "let me get one thing straight," he said while reaching behind me, zipping down my dress, "you're mine and I'm not fucking share you with anyone else. Ever. You understand me?" his voice was firm, leaving no room for argument as he let my dress fall to the floor.

I nodded, knowing that challenging him would only get me in deeper shit. He released a growl of satisfaction as I submitted to him, leaning in and pressing a firm kiss to my lips, possessiveness radiating off him.

His hand slid down to grip my ass, squeezing firmly as he pulled me closer to him. "Get on your knees, now," he said, his voice low, with a hint of danger that sent a shiver down my spine. I instantly obeyed, slowly dropping to my knees, my eyes never leaving his.

"Good girl..." he purred, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the ground with a soft clink. His hands move to his pants, unbuttoning them slowly as he watched me with a hungry gaze. "So patient.." he mumbled, sliding his pants down and letting them pool at his feet.

"Take my boxers off..cmon.." he egged on, moving his hips forward so the imprint of his cock was inches away from my face. I bit my lip, reaching up and looping my fingers around the waistband of his underwear, slowly dragging it down. His cock sprung out, slapping against his abdomen.

"Fuckk.." I gasped softly, he ran his hands over his shaft, giving it a few strokes as he spoke, "now, wrap those pretty lips around it and start sucking.." he grinned. I took his cock in my hand, slowly gliding my mouth down his cock, engulfing every inch.

He groaned in pleasure as I took his entire length into my mouth, my warm, wet lips feeling amazing around his cock. He started thrusting gently at first, fucking my mouth slowly as he looked down at me, "such a dirty slut..sucking my cock like that.." he grunted, his fingers tangling in my hair and pulling it gently, guiding me on his thick cock.

I bobbed my head up and down, sucking his cock hard and fast, feeling his bulging veins throb on my tongue. He lost himself in the sensation, starting to fuck my mouth harder and faster, his balls slapping against my chin.

"Shit...I'm gonna cum soon if you keep sucking my cock like that, I'll fill your fucking throat with my load.." he growled lowly. I choked and struggled to take his cock as it repeatedly hit the back of my throat, saliva building around my mouth.

He grinned as he saw the struggling but determined expression on my face. "You like that, huh? You want me to fuck your throat harder?" he moaned lowly, "mmh! Yes!" I whined, his thrusts became more powerful at my response, fucking my mouth harder.

His balls started to tighten, saliva dripped down my chin as I kept sucking his cock, mascara filled tears streaming down my cheeks. "Fuck! Yes! Keep sucking that cock you filthy whore!" he yelped, exploding in my mouth, his thick, hot cum shooting down my throat in powerful spurts.

He kept thrusting his cock into my mouth, making sure I swallowed every last drop, "swallow it all, you little fucktoy. Every last drop belongs in your stomach.." he panted, trying to calm down after his earth shattering orgasm.

He slowly pulled out, grabbing my arm and bringing me up to my feet. His hands moved to my panties and roughly shoved them down, "take these off, I'm not done with you yet," he murmured, his gaze fixed on my wetness. "That's more like it.." he moved closer, gripping my hips roughly before lifting me up onto the counter.

"You're so fucking wet.." he draped his fingers along my folds, collecting the wetness and bringing it to his mouth, humming in delight. He stalked closer, his tip prodding at my entrance, teasing my clit with the head of his cock, biting his lip as he felt a surge of pleasure.

He smirked, enjoying the way I squirmed beneath him before he slowly started to push himself inside, "god you're so fucking tight...I could stay buried in you for days," he groaned, I wrapped my arms around his neck, my mouth slightly agape as I felt every inch go in slowly.

His hands gripped my hips tighter, pulling me closer to the edge of the counter until I was flush against him. He started to move his hips in slow, deliberate thrusts, "fuck..you feel so good.." he mumbled, burying his face into my neck.

He groaned in pleasure as he picked up his pace, his hips moving faster, driving himself deeper inside me with every thrust. He nipped and kissed at my neck, leaving behind a trail of bites as he marked his territory, "you're mine..fuck.."

He started to pound into me relentlessly, his anger and frustration poured into his rough fucking. The counter slightly shook with the force of his thrusts, his arm wrapping around my waist to secure me.

I moaned loudly, digging my nails into his back as his cock repeatedly hit the spot I loved the most, "Tom! Fuck, mmh!" he grinned devilishly, his hips snapping back and forth quickly, his cock sliding easily in and out of my slick, dripping pussy, "so fucking wet f'me, hmm?" he reached up, grabbing a fistful of my hair and pulling it back, exposing my neck to the cool air.

"Such a dirty girl..taking my cock twice," he grunted, the sound of our bodies slapping against each other filling the room. He continued to fuck me hard, almost punishingly so, satisfied with the desperation in my moans and the way I held onto him.

"Harder! Faster!" I whined, throwing my head back, "oh you want it harder, hm? I'll give you harder.." he grumbled, his voice filled with dominance. He instantly obeyed with my command, slamming into me with brutal force, the head of his dick hitting my cervix with each thrust, driving me into a state of oblivion.

"Fuckkkk!" I cried out, feeling a knot form in my stomach, my climax building up rapidly. At this point he lost all control, his hands moving under my thighs, I wrapped my legs around his waist and he picked me up, starting to slam me down onto his cock, "oh my fucking god! Fuck!" I practically screamed, my body bouncing against his brutally.

"Take it! Take it all!" he yelled, his balls slapping against my ass with each bounce, the sound echoing throughout the room, "i'm gonna cum!" I yelped, my pussy tightening around his cock.

As I reached my climax a clear stream of liquid escaped my pussy, my juices coating all over his hard cock. His eyes rolled back in pleasure as he felt me squirt all over his shaft, feeling the warm liquid coat his balls, his release being triggered. He emptied himself inside me, making sure to fuck his cum deep inside me.

We were both spent, exhausted and panting, trying to catch out breathes. He placed me back down on the counter, slowly pulling out, watching as his cum slowly spilled out.

He quickly cleaned the both of us up, helping me put my clothes back on, putting his back on too. I got up off the counter, my legs trembling from the intense love making session. "Fuck.." he ran a hand through his hair, "let's get you home..ok?" he grabbed my hand, leading me out of the bathroom and outside the bar, hailing for a taxi.

As we were waiting in silence, he spoke up, "what if I told you that I had no interest in anyone but you? That every time I'm with someone else, it's just a show, to make you jealous, I never stop thinking about you," he turned to face me, gently cupping my face in his large hands.

I smiled at his words, seeing the sincerity in his eyes. "I'd believe you..I really have missed you Tom, I don't want to act like I'm not in love with you, I want you back, I want what we had back.." I looked up at him, he instantly nodded and placed a gentle kiss to my lips.

"Also..can you stay the night, you know how I get when I have to be alone for the night," I said, giving him a look he couldn't refuse. "Alright baby, alright," he chuckled, placing a firm kiss on my forehead.

tags: @ballhair @tomriddlesrealgf @bills-wife-1

tags: @tomscumdoll @billsdolliest @bkaulitzlover

tags: @miyukafujii @ella1289 @pa1n-0f-l0ve

[punkshort]

Chapter warnings: explicit smut (MDNI), perhaps some slight dubcon, language

Chapter Fifteen

Pairing: Joel x F!Reader, pre-outbreak and post outbreak

AU (the only thing I kept was the outbreak, Joel, and Tommy's characters. Joel's backstory is different, and the way he finds Jackson is different. I may include Ellie one day, I just haven't planned that far)

Fic Summary: You worked for Joel and Tommy a few months before the outbreak. The outbreak happens, and you and Joel get stuck traveling the country and keeping each other safe. Neither of you spoke about the feelings you had for one another pre-outbreak, and in a post-apocalyptic world, it seems like survival should be your only focus. But feelings can't be ignored forever.

Fic tags: Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI), Smut, Language, Canon-Typical Violence, Alcohol Use, Age Difference (Reader is 10 years younger than Joel), slow burn, mutual pining, angst, trauma, SA referencing later but I will put a big warning on those chapters

May 2004

You jumped and snapped your eyes open when you felt his fingers brush against your cheek. The moon was completely covered by clouds, making it difficult to see your own hand in front of your face. You looked around in the darkness, hearing the crickets and bullfrogs sing from a nearby pond. You sat up in your sleeping bag, rubbing your eyes and yawning.

"Hey," Joel whispered to you, stroking your cheek again. "Your turn." You nodded, even though you were fairly certain he couldn't see you, and unzipped your sleeping bag so you could stand. He put his hand inside yours to help pull you off the forest floor, his eyes more adjusted to the darkness than your own. He handed you the rifle as you rolled your shoulders, trying to wake your body up.

"You good?" he asked, whispering again.

"Yeah," you replied softly, "just more tired than I thought. Go get some sleep." You turned to head a few feet away to the edge of the trees, finding a broken stump to perch on and observe your surroundings as your eyes became more focused. You heard Joel rustling in his sleeping bag as he got comfortable, and then it was silent, except for the soft hum of wildlife around you.

You've been walking for a few weeks, making camp only in the density of the woods, not yet having found any place suitable enough to spend a few nights and recuperate. You were both exhausted from only getting a few hours of sleep each night, not nearly enough for either of you considering how many miles you walked in any given day. The forests were hilly, the was terrain soft and uneven, requiring more effort than usual from your bodies, slowing you down quite a bit. Joel figured you were headed in the direction of Omaha, but he wanted to steer clear of the city proper, so you were trying to keep a path that was further south, closer to the Missouri border.

After the cruel invasion of your little paradise, Joel had speculated that the men who came that day were part of a larger group, likely connected to the men you killed in the parking ramp. He told you at the time he found it odd that all of the sudden some people stumbled upon your little neighborhood when you had been there for several weeks, completely untouched. That the only thing that made sense was they tracked you back to your home, looking for revenge. It scared you to think someone out there had a vendetta against you, that it could cost your lives, but Joel assured you being so far removed from civilization now kept you safe. However, he still insisted on taking turns keeping watch at night, so you wondered just how truthful he was being.

You sighed as you listened to the crickets chirp in the darkness. Joel had left behind the two car batteries he wanted to use for the CB radio, and he mentioned once you found another small town or highway that he wanted to go looking for another one. You knew he was right, that you couldn't continue to live off the land forever, just the two of you. That the chances of finding Tommy were slim to none. And Joel was adamant about staying far away from any QZ. So, the only option left was to find another group of people who you could trust, and he was hoping to find that with his radio.

You patrolled the tree line every 10 minutes or so, not because it was necessary, but because it helped keep you awake You always glanced down at Joel's sleeping face when you passed by him. You were so close to having everything you wanted: the safety of a secluded home with the man you loved. You weren't sure when you realized it, but once you did, it was like you always knew. You kept it to yourself for now. It was the wrong time to bring it up. Maybe once you found someplace safe, someplace semi-permanent, you would tell him how you felt. He didn’t need the distraction right now.

You sat back down on the stump and watched as the sky slowly brightened through the lush tree trunks, then over the tops of the trees before the sun finally peeked through and birds began to sing, making you squint and readjust yourself so you weren't facing the light head-on. You looked back at Joel, still asleep based on the slow rise and fall of his shoulder. Knowing that the extra rest would do him good, you quietly got to work taking out the small kettle and can of coffee, gently removing two mugs from your backpack so they didn't clatter and make noise. There was a small stream nearby where you filled the kettle, as well as your canteens. Resting them next to you on the ground, you got to work starting a fire. It wasn't until Joel smelled the scent of coffee in your mugs that he stirred and turned over, glancing up at the sun in the sky before looking at you, his brows furrowed.

"Shoulda woke me sooner," he mumbled, his voice thick with sleep. You reached a mug out in his direction, and he took it from you gratefully, cradling it in both his hands before bringing it to his lips. You took a sip from your own mug before leaning back against a tree.

"You needed the sleep," you told him as he took another sip. "We've been hiking so much, you need to take care of yourself." He met your eyes over the rim of his mug, giving you a smirk before taking a big swig of coffee.

"What?" you asked him, raising an eyebrow. You put your mug on the ground to fish out some granola and a can of fruit. You tossed the items to Joel and leaned back to rest against your tree. He shook his head at you before ripping into the granola package.

"Nothin'," he said, keeping his eyes down on the food, "I was just thinkin', I prefer the way you take care of me..." you smiled, thinking it was such a sweet thing to say before he added, "in more ways than one."

Joel's eyes shot up to yours now, the surprise apparent on your face. The past few weeks have shifted you both into survival mode. Neither of you had attempted to be physical with one another, except for a quick kiss here or a squeeze of a hand there, an unspoken agreement that being out in the woods was dangerous and you needed to be alert. You blushed and looked down at your mug, feeling shy and taken off guard.

When he saw your reaction, he got up from his sleeping bag to come sit next to you, then tilted your chin up with his finger.

"You havin' second thoughts about us?" he asked, wanting it to come off as a joke, but as soon as he said the words, he realized he needed to know the answer.

You gave him a confused frown. Instead of answering, you put your mug down and flipped your leg over his so you were straddling him. Putting your hands on his shoulders, you leaned down and pressed your lips against his mouth, wrapping one hand around his neck to pull him in deeper. He groaned and you took advantage, sliding your tongue alongside his while his hands gripped your waist. He let his head fall back gently against the tree trunk, running his hands up and down your back before resting them on your hips, pushing you down to grind against his cock, still hard from waking up.

You moaned, flipping your head in the other direction and swirling your tongue around his, tasting the crystallized black coffee in his mouth, and tightening the grip you had on his shoulder. Joel began lightly lifting his hips from the ground to rub against you while his kisses became messier. You had to force yourself back to break the contact before things escalated. He whined, trying to chase your mouth with his, but you dodged him, gently pushing his chest so he rested against the tree trunk again.

He looked up at you, his gaze dark and needy, panting softly as he tried to catch his breath.

“Why would you ask me that?” you said, refusing to respond to his hips still grinding into you.

“I don’t know, sweetheart. Guess it’s been a while and it got me wonderin’ if you came to your senses.” He said, his eyes raking down your body and watching the slow roll of his hips against yours.

“What do you mean?” you asked, trying your hardest to stay focused and not let him distract you.

“Y’know,” he shrugged, still looking down at your hips, “that you realized you deserve better.”

He said it so casually, so matter-of-factly, like anyone in the world would understand, that it made your chest ache. You pushed your hips down firmly, pinning him to the ground so he couldn’t continue rubbing himself against your core, and gripped his chin firmly in your fingers, pulling his surprised gaze up to yours.

“Do you really believe that?” you asked, and all he could do was nod, still staring deep into your eyes. You let go of his chin and placed your hands on his shoulders.

“Listen to me,” you began, making sure he was paying attention. “You are all that I want. You are all that I ever wanted. You’ve consumed my every waking thought for the past year, and you think I ‘deserve better’?” You leaned down to press a firm kiss on his lips before murmuring against his mouth. “There is no better than you. You’re perfect.” He shook his head, averting his gaze.

“I’m far from perfect. I fuck everything up, I piss everyone off, and –“ you cut him off, refusing to hear any more.

“I love you, Joel.”

His eyes shot up to yours. All you could hear was the buzzing of insects surrounding you in the woods and the occasional squirrel bouncing in the treetops. You held your breath, waiting for a reaction as he stared at you, his face giving nothing away. You shifted on his lap a little, beginning to feel exposed.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to tell you that now, I don’t want to distract you, but –“ Suddenly, Joel sprung forward and pushed you back into the sharp bed of pine needles on the forest floor and covered you with his body as he plunged his tongue into your mouth with a greater sense of urgency than before, his hand tangling in your hair. You were having trouble keeping pace with the unexpected response, so you resigned yourself to laying there with your hands on his jaw and waist while he feasted on your mouth in a frenzy. He broke the kiss, leaning back and swiped mindlessly at your shirt, trying to unbutton it but his fingers wouldn’t cooperate. You moved his hands away so he wouldn’t tear the buttons off and ruin the flannel, undoing them quickly and leaving the shirt open but still covering your breasts while he yanked at the zipper on your jeans, pulling them over your hips desperately.

“Joel,” you gasped, looking around the forest as he pulled your jeans all the way off. “We should wait, we should find a safe place, we can’t – oh!” your back arched off the ground when you felt his tongue lick a stripe all the way from your folds to your clit. He focused his mouth on your bundle of nerves, sucking it into his mouth before traveling back down to your center and darting his tongue inside you, moaning when you clenched around him. The vibrations made your jaw hang open, a silent scream on your lips as you rocked yourself up and down to the rhythm he set, the scruff of his beard making the sensation on your cunt so intense it was making you see stars. He brought his mouth back up as he inserted one finger inside you, then two, while his tongue swirled around your clit. He must have noticed your reaction to the vibrations from his voice because he moaned against you over and over until you grabbed at his hair and pulled, stifling a scream as you came, still hyper aware you were exposed in the middle of the woods.

Joel slowed his pace as you came down, removing his fingers from your pussy and popping them in his glistening mouth with a smirk. You gasped for air as you watched him, still unsure how he managed to get you in this position so quickly. You glanced at the trees around you again, making sure no infected or people were nearby, before your gaze landed back on Joel right as he was pushing his jeans down past his knees, freeing his cock and fisting himself as he looked at you.

“This is too risky,” you whispered to him, but he shook his head.

“Don’t care,” he replied, bending down to push his lips against your mouth, tasting yourself as he ran his tongue alongside yours. You whined as he pulled back so he could line himself up with your entrance, applying the slightest bit of pressure before he let go and fell back on his arms to hover above you. He flicked your flannel open, revealing your breasts to him, and he brought a hand up to gently caress one in his palm, rolling a nipple between his fingers. You squirmed below him, desperate now to feel him inside.

“Say it again,” he commanded, giving you a look you had only seen given to colleagues in meetings, a look that meant he was not fucking around.

“I-I love you,” you stammered, unable to look away from his heated gaze. His eyes fluttered shut and he groaned, then in one swift motion, pushed his throbbing cock into you, making you squeeze your eyes shut and bite back a cry as your cunt fluttered around him, trying to adjust to his size. He hardly gave you any time to acclimate before his hips were thrusting into you steadily. Not too fast, but not the slow, languid thrusts he gifted you the first time you slept together. You gripped his back, your nails digging into his muscle as his pace increased, his gasps and groans absorbed by your throat where his mouth rested. He brought his hand down to grab your knee and pulled it up to your chest like before, causing a small cry to escape your lips as the angle changed to where he could hit that spot deep inside.

“J-Joel,” you stuttered, tears forming in your eyes. “I’m close, I’m gonna – oh, god, fuck -  I’m gonna,” you shut your eyes, unable to finish your sentence as you felt the wave of euphoria begin to rise.

“Say it one more time,” he grunted, his jaw clenched as he slammed into you, watching your face closely. “Say it again when you come on my cock.”

“I love you,” you whimpered softly as you felt that familiar wave wash over you and you stilled under him, tilting your head back with your eyes squeezed shut and mouth agape as you tried your best to be quiet. Joel’s movements became unsteady as he watched you come undone. The sight, combined with your admission, made him so lost in the moment that he almost forgot to pull out, spilling himself with a harsh grunt all over your thighs and the pine needles underneath you at the last second.

“Fuck,” he whispered, gasping for breath as he looked down at his seed painting your legs before tipping his head backwards towards the sky, trying to get ahold of himself.

You gripped at the edges of your flannel, pulling it shut as he kneeled between your legs, head still tilted back. You took another cursory glance around you before settling back on him, his eyes closed, and his head now slumped forward. You didn’t mean for the words to slip out, but you sensed in that moment of insecurity he needed the confirmation. You knew it was too soon, that you shouldn’t expect a response, but you were still embarrassed. You closed your eyes, regret invading your mind, as you waited for him to get up so you could clean yourself. Then you felt a cloth gently sweeping across your thighs, and you looked down to see he had fished a rag out of his jeans. He tossed it to the side and then looked at you, your eyes finally meeting once again. You grew uncomfortable under his gaze and began shifting your eyes around, hoping he would stand so you could pull your pants back up, feeling way too open.

“I love you, too,” he said softly, like he was reading your mind, and your eyes darted back to his immediately. You bit your lip to hold back a smile, but he saw it, and a grin spread over his face. He reached down to pull your underwear and jeans back up, and you lifted your hips so you could zip your pants before getting to work on buttoning your flannel.

You sat up and reached for your coffee, now cold in your mug, but you didn't care. You both sat in a comfortable silence sipping from your mugs, his arm draped around your shoulders. If you closed your eyes and focused, you could pretend you were sitting on the front porch of the white house with blue shutters, enjoying your morning coffee together in peace.

You were standing watch on a small highway that curved through the forest while Joel rummaged through a cluster of abandoned cars, checking under the hoods for a useable battery. You looked up and down the road, seeing nothing but a few squirrels and birds swooping down to peck at the ground. You turned back to check on him, smiling as Joel's face scrunched in concentration, twisting the knobs on the transceiver before holding the microphone up to his ear. He smirked, his features relaxing, before looking up at you.

"I got static," he told you, twisting the knobs again before cupping the receiver around his ear. He looked at the terrain around you before shutting the radio off and shoving both items in his pack, handing you a few of his things so he could make room. He zipped his backpack up and slung it around his shoulders, squinting at the trees again.

"We gotta get out of these hills, won't get much of a signal up here, too much blocking it," he explained, spreading his arm out to indicate the thick forest around you. He looked back down at you now, your brows furrowed with worry. He bent down to capture his lips over yours, massaging them gently before pulling away and using his thumb to smooth the frown from your forehead.

"Don't worry, sweetheart. I'm gonna find us somewhere safe. Maybe even find us a house one day," he murmured, running his thumb over your lower lip before letting his hand fall to his side, dropping his head down to give you a reassuring look. You smiled back at him as you followed him down the road, leading you out of the hills and through the trees. You knew he was trying his best, but you were still worried about being around other people. So far, your interactions have not been very positive, and your trust in strangers was quickly waning. But you trusted Joel, and you knew he wouldn't lead you anywhere that was unsafe, so you carried on and followed him down the road. After a few hours, you found yourselves overlooking the edge of a huge cliff, leaning up against the guardrail to admire the tall pine trees below.

"Wow," you muttered, glancing down before taking a tentative step backwards. "We're higher up than I thought."

Joel was digging in his pack to pull the battery and radio out, tuning the dials to see if he could pick anything up. All you heard was static. You turned around to face the road, kicking a small stone and watching it skip across the pavement. You noticed the shadow of a bird fly over the road, and you glanced up to see a big hawk circling overhead, no doubt hunting for some lunch. You shrugged your pack from your shoulders and rummaged around for some beef jerky and dried fruit, listening to Joel mutter to himself as he turned the dials. Perching on a big rock, you took a bite of food and swiveled your head around, making sure the coast was still clear. You nearly choked on your dried peach when you heard a broken voice come through on the radio, your eyes shooting up to meet each other in shock.

You jumped down from the rock, your meal forgotten, as you jogged over to where he was crouched and bent down to try to make out the message. After a few minutes with no success, only able to make out a word or two, Joel turned the radio off and repacked it, sliding the backpack over his shoulders.

"We gotta keep moving, maybe the further down we go, we can pick up a better signal. C'mon," he said excitedly, turning to walk down the road as you ran back to snatch up your bow, pack and your bag of food, pushing the anxiety from your mind.

He kept pulling the radio back out every half hour or so, trying to see if the signal was clearer before continuing forward. It was getting late, you could see the sun glowing orange as it dipped below the trees. You were tired. Your feet and back hurt, and you weren't far enough into the forest to make a safe campsite.

"Joel?" You called out to him, ten feet ahead, mind still focused on the radio call. "Joel?" You tried again, louder this time. He swiveled around to you, his forehead creased.

"We gotta stop soon, find a place to set up camp," you said, peering through the forest which was quickly becoming dark.

"Just a little further, I think if we make it past this next bend in the road, I might be able to hear it," he said, turning back around before you stopped him, saying his name more firmly now, becoming frustrated.

"We can try tomorrow, c'mon, I'm tired," you said, your eyes pleading. He sighed and looked around for the first time, realizing how quickly it was becoming dark.

"Ok, let's go," he huffed, leading you into the woods. It was worrying you how fixated he was becoming on this radio call, like it was the answer to his prayers. Joel was quiet and lost in thought as he set up camp, hardly sparing a glance your way until he volunteered to take first watch. He picked up his rifle and headed a few yards out, clutching his flashlight in his hand and anxiously tapping his foot on the ground.

"Joel?" you said quietly, walking up behind him. He turned briefly to look at you before turning his attention back to the trees. "Can we talk about this?" you questioned hesitantly.

"What about it?" he replied gruffly, still turned away.

"I just want to manage your expectations; it might not be what you think it is. It could be a trap, or it could be the military. We don't know -" Joel cut you off, turning around to face you, his gaze dark.

"You don't wanna do this." He meant it to sound like a question, but it was more of a statement, like he already knew the answer. "I get it. We've had some bad run-ins, but we gotta try. We can't keep wanderin' around forever, and I ain't gettin' stuck in a QZ." His jaw ticked in frustration, wishing you would get on board with this plan.

"Remind me again why we don't want to go to a QZ," you retorted, narrowing your eyes at him. He sighed and rolled his eyes, your point proven. People are capable of terrible things.

"Yeah, I know, but we gotta believe there's some good out there. We need a community, people to help build a life again," he pleaded, reaching an arm out to you. You paused before reluctantly placing your hand in his palm, but you still refused to step towards him. He gave your hand a gentle tug and brought you forward to wrap his arms around you, kissing the crown of your head.

"Do you trust me?" he asked you, his lips pressed against the top of your head. You nodded before pushing away from him to head back to your sleeping bag, but not before calling over your shoulder, "You better be right, Miller."

He smirked and turned back towards the dense forest as you buried yourself inside your sleeping bag, the sounds of crickets lulling you to sleep.

The next day was rainy as you made your way further down the hill. Joel took mercy on you and waited until he had found a spot that was covered with some trees so you weren't standing in the pouring rain while he tested the radio. He knew you were concerned about what this next phase could bring, that you missed the little neighborhood you were forced to leave so suddenly. He didn't share with you his real reason for his obsession with finding a safe haven. Ever since you had to leave the house in a rush a few weeks ago, his anxiety has been borderline unmanageable. All he could focus on was what would have happened if it wasn't storming, if he didn't come back to the house exactly when he did. There had been too many close calls in the past few months, and he was realizing his ability to keep you safe would only get worse with age. The thought of putting you in harm’s way was eating him alive and keeping him up at night. Sometimes, he could feel his anxiety creeping up so badly that his chest began to ache, and his breathing became irregular. He didn't want to worry you and he knew you would just argue that you could defend yourself, so he kept these thoughts to himself and just focused on finding someplace permanent to live.

He got the radio to the right frequency when he finally heard the message clearer than he had the day before. You turned your head to stare at the radio as you heard the recording of a woman's voice say there was safety to be found at the Kansas City University dormitories, that there was a small group of survivors there welcoming all others. It gave directions on which dorm they were residing in before the recording stopped, then the message started over after about 20 seconds of silence.

He listened to it twice before turning it off, avoiding your stare as he packed the radio back in his bag. You remained silent. You expressed your concerns yesterday, there wasn't much point in repeating it. Joel took his map out to double check the route before continuing down the road to hook up with I-29. You walked in silence in the heavy rain for hours until you found an overpass to hide under and eat.

You kept your gaze focused on your food, fuming silently to yourself. Of course the message said exactly what he wanted to hear. You felt like you were the only one thinking logically, that maybe these people were already dead, or they were trying to lure you into a trap to steal your weapons and food. It was unlike Joel to be so willing to walk into a potentially dangerous situation like this, and you were starting to get angry.

"Alright, out with it," he said, feeling the tension and clearly annoyed.

"I don't know what you're talking about," you replied flatly, your eyes still fixed on your food.

"Don't play games with me," he said, his voice raising a bit. Why couldn't you see this was the best option? Why couldn't you just understand?

Pissed, you flicked your empty bag of food on the ground and stood up to glare at him, nostrils flaring.

"I already told you, Joel. I'm scared this isn't what you think it is. Why would they broadcast their location like that? Anybody could run up on them and steal their shit, kill them all. That doesn't cross your mind as strange?" you said through clenched teeth. He stood up now, his anger setting in. "What the hell's going on with you? Weren't you the one who told me not to be naive? Not everyone's telling the truth?"

"'What the hell's goin' on with me?'" He repeated, his fist clenched at his side. "I'll tell you what's goin' on with me. I'm fuckin' scared! I hardly know what I'm doin' out here, and I'm scared to death I'm gonna get you killed. Is that what you want to hear?" he yelled. He could feel his chest begin to tighten again but he ignored it. "And don't go tellin' me you can take care of yourself, I know you can, but there's too much at stake. If I lose you, it'll fuckin' kill me, do you get that?!" He grabbed your arms and gave you a shake, his outburst surprising you.

You stared at each other as his words settled over you. You could see in his eyes that he really was scared, that he was desperate, pleading with you to go through with this. You sighed as you felt the anger begin to dissipate. Maybe there was a compromise. You wriggled out from his grasp and took a step back, his arms falling to his sides.

Joel continued to stare at you, his eyes wide and panicky, determined to convince you. Over his shoulder you picked up some sluggish movement. Your eyes flicked from him to the runner lumbering towards you, his back still turned. You whipped the bow from behind you and grabbed an arrow sticking out of your backpack.

"Move," you muttered as you drew the arrow back. He shifted to the side and turned to see the infected ambling towards him, picking up speed. You lodged an arrow right between its eyes, your arms falling heavy to your side. You hung your head before bringing your chin up to look at him.

"Fine," you succumbed. "On one condition."

"Name it," he said eagerly, his chest relaxing.

"We watch them for a few days, or however long it takes for me to be good with this. We don't just go walking up and knocking on their door." You slung the bow across your back and walked a few feet to pull your arrow from the runner's skull.

"Done," he said, unable to hide the relief in his voice. "If anything feels off, we keep goin'. I promise."

You rolled your eyes, mostly teasing, but still annoyed with him.

"Come on, let's get going. We have to find somewhere to set up camp soon." You turned on your heel and left the cover of the overpass, Joel following shortly behind after a quick glance at his map. The thruway led you both through a massive nature preserve until you had found a small shelter that appeared to be a welcome center for the park. If it weren't for the thruway narrowly carving its way through the dense forest, you would be in the middle of nowhere. You were soaked to the bone and thrilled to find a place with a roof for the night. Joel didn't want to start a fire til the morning, so you had to make do with draping your wet clothes over the counters, hoping they would dry, and putting on layers before tucking yourself into your sleeping bag. Since you weren't as exposed now, Joel didn't think it was necessary to take watch. It would be the first time either of you got to sleep through the night in weeks. You buried your face and turned on your side, but right before you fell asleep, you felt Joel's arm snake around your waist and pull you closer to him across the floor, spooning you through your sleeping bags.

Kansas City, MO

You looked through the rifle scope at the Oak Street dormitory from your perch in a park across Brush Creek. The trees kept you mostly hidden, but you couldn’t get very high to get a good look at the place. Joel was hesitant to venture closer into the city, and you agreed that you felt safer in the confines of a park, surrounded by nature like you had become accustomed. It was your fourth day observing the dorms. You could see some movement through the windows from time to time, but they were smart: they kept their movements to a minimum and kept as many windows as possible covered. You had seen a couple men come outside with assault rifles doing what looked like regular perimeter checks, but aside from that, you hardly saw anyone. You had a pit in your stomach about this. You really hoped that when you got here, something would have convinced you that it was a good decision, that these people were trustworthy, but so far all you could tell was they were very good at staying quiet.

You sighed and leaned back, giving Joel the rifle and rolling your shoulder, tense from hovering over the gun all morning. He peered through the scope but saw the same thing as you, which wasn’t much. He had been patient and didn’t push you, he wanted this to work out so desperately, but he knew you had to come around on your own. You picked at your fingernails as you stared straight ahead past the creek to the building, trying to rationalize why this would be a good idea.

“I don’t know about this, Joel,” you admitted, chewing your lip and still staring at the building. “On one hand, they keep a low profile, but on the other, I can’t get an idea of what we would be dealing with.”

He nodded, his gaze falling to the ground, and he rubbed his chest. He wasn’t sure if you would find another community for a long time, and he was terrified of what could happen by then. You studied his face as he stared at the ground, feeling guilty for being doubtful. You understood his concerns, and you trusted him, but your gut was telling you something was off. You reached your hand out to take his, and he lifted his eyes to look at you questioningly.

“If you think it’s a good idea, I’ll do it,” you told him, stifling the nagging feeling in the back of your mind. His eyes crinkled as his face broke out into a smile, grabbing you and pulling you into a deep kiss, trying to express his gratitude.  You pulled away and held his hand again.

“You can’t leave me alone, though. Not until I feel comfortable. It’s still us or them, right?” you told him, gazing urgently into his eyes, your grip on his hand tightening. He nodded aggressively.

“I won’t leave you, sweetheart. We’re in this together.” He leaned forward and planted another kiss before pulling back and gripping your face in his hands. “This’ll be good, I know it.”

You walked up to the building, unarmed with your hands raised. The area was quiet, you didn’t hear any sounds of infected, gunshots, or people, which put your mind at ease a bit. The door swung open and three men came out, aiming their rifles in your direction.

“Freeze!” one with dark black hair and thick eyebrows shouted. You did as you were told, raising your hands even higher as they approached you. When they got closer, the dark-haired man spoke up.

“What’s your business here?” he asked, eyeing your weapons but not making a move to take them.

“We heard your call over the radio, we’re lookin' for a community, just a couple of survivors.” Joel told them. You continued to stare straight ahead into the dark-haired man’s eyes. He turned his mouth to his shoulder where a walkie talkie was fastened, and he let whoever was on the other end know they had two survivors looking for asylum. He listened to his earpiece and nodded, lowering his weapons.

“You need to hand over your guns, then you can come with us. Meet the leadership. When they deem it acceptable, they’ll give you rooms.” He told you both, reaching his hand out expectantly for your weapons. You glanced at Joel nervously but did as the man said and tossed your knives, bow and handgun on the ground in between you as the two other men scooped them up. You lowered your hands as they ushered you into the building, one skinny man with reddish hair in front of you, leading the way, and the other two behind you, keeping a close eye on your movements.

The man knocked on a door on the second floor, only entering when he heard the acknowledgement from within. The door pushed open and you followed Joel into the room, standing beside him as the two men remained stationed at the door, their eyes still trained on the both of you. The redhead spoke up to a small group of people who were huddled around a desk examining a map.

“These are the two we saw approaching the doors,” he said, stepping aside so the leaders could survey you. You felt Joel stiffen beside you, but you weren’t sure why. There were four older men and one younger blonde woman, who immediately fixed her gaze onto Joel and the corner of her mouth pulled into a smirk. You turned your head to look at Joel, his jaw locked and he was frowning, staring daggers into the blonde woman.

“Joel!” she exclaimed softly, looking back in her direction as you heard him swallow roughly next to you.

“Amy,” he replied coldly, and you felt your stomach drop.

Chapter Sixteen

Tag list: @chiogarza, @sparklejumpropequeen-777, @shotgun-shelby

[targaryenluvs]

ok ok but imagine dark!gimmick somehow falls in love with capitol!reader (a client of his) but she doesn’t want him unless she’s paying for him or wanna love him back so he does everything in his power to have her, threatens to share the secrets she told him that will probably have her hanged and so with that they live happily ever after 😆

UNREQUITED

pairing: dark!finnick odair x fem!capitol!reader

summary: you’d divulged one to many secrets to your favourite victor and he wasn’t afraid of using them against you. karmas a bitch!

warning: blackmail, prostitution mentions/insinuations, nc sex and pillowtalk??

a/n: bros getting revenge or som

the first time you saw him you couldn’t take your eyes off of him. you’d heard of people being able to visit victors away from prying eyes and the idea seemed boring until you remembered he existed. so why not take advantage of your station?

finnick was hoping for one night of reprieve but of course, he had someone to visit.

the card in his hand felt heavy and as he unlocked the room he stopped in his tracks. you were sitting on the bed with a flute of champagne in your hands. you were gorgeous, and for once he felt okay with it.

“finnick?” your voice was like music to his ears as he came closer. he nodded and you pressed your lips into a tight line, “it’s nice to meet you.” nice to meet you? are you stupid? god you had no clue what to say since you were literally forcing this man to be with you.

“so.” he laughed, “so.” he took the flute away from you before getting you standing, “where do you want me sweetheart?” you smiled.

and all the previous tension faded away throughout the night, finnick was amazing.

it had been months since your first time together and you’d only grown more comfortable with eachother. you liked him, he was nice. and he was obsessed with you. every time he saw you he knew what would be happening the following night and he could hardly wait. with you he took his time and focused on you the whole time, he loved trying new things with you, making you scream.

and afterwards you’d sit and cuddle, and at times even kiss. he was a nice stress relief for you, he always listened to your concerns and problems. your arranged boyfriend, the politician, and his like for younger men. his affinity for dipping his hand into the company savings, even though you were well off. your brothers and their mistresses, your parents and their expectations.

finnick listened intently, gave advice and was actually helpful. you were grateful to be able to get it off his chest. but finnick wasn’t going to let you go.

“i think we’re getting engaged soon.” finnick shut his eyes to calm himself down, it didn’t work. “no you’re not honey.” you cocked your head to his side, “what do you mean?” he smiled and it was so fake, “you’re meant to be with me, y/n. and you will be with me. do you know how much you’ve told me? about him, your friends and family?”

your eyes widened as you got up, covering yourself with the sheet. “i’ve already seen you, all of you there’s no reason to hide.” he pulled the sheet away as you covered yourself with your arms, “i’ve had enough of you finnick. get. out.” you enunciated before crawling away. he grabbed your ankle and pulled you back to him.

“i told you you’re not going anywhere. do you want me to let it all out? let everyone know every, single, dirty secret y/n?” your eyes welled up as you threw your head to the side, not wanting to look at him, “please finnick, just let me go.” you felt his chest vibrate as he chuckled. his fingers dug into your face, forcing you to look at him.

“say you’re mine and i’ll let them go.” you shook your head, thrashing against him to get away. his other hand bruised your hip with an iron grip. “fine!” his smile was sickly sweet as he began to kiss his way down, on the insides of your thighs as his strong hands held you down whilst you began to buck your hips up. “please finnick.” he looked up at you from between your legs and grinned.

“now you’re not so bossy huh?”

he had what he wanted and you were sure he wouldn’t let you go.

[still-ssstar]

Hmm, now I'm thinking, did Rin like horror movies before he and Sae had a fight?

Using "dark" content and horror as a safe way to experience fear and/or relieve nervous tension is quite common, so perhaps Rin liked horror for this reason. In addition, he apparently spends ALL weekend playing horror games or watching horror movies (If this is not an exaggeration, then, boy, go touch the grass, please). Perhaps after that evening, his psyche needs to be in constant tension. Or maybe he is trying to feel something in this way after receiving psychological trauma, after all, initially he seems to have been a rather emotionally open child. (He can avoid and block his emotions, while still trying to get them through something emotionally similar, but not directly related to the trigger of his mental wound. If you consider that he was so focused on revenge on Sae, then this is not such an impossible option. On the one hand, he cultivates anger himself, and on the other hand, he is looking for a way out of this anger. Because, let's be honest, being angry and sad all the time, but not giving these negative emotions any way out is a sure way to constant nervous breakdowns and even constant heavy physical activity in the form of football is not the fact that it will fully help relieve psychological stress.)

Sigh, I need more details. Rin was shown in very childhood and adolescence, but I would like to see him in his early teens in order to fully assess the dynamics of his development. I'm a big fan of horror myself, but Rin's situation seems to me to go beyond "Oh, yes, this is an interesting way to tell interesting thoughts and get interesting emotions".

[lilacs-and-vanilla]

@shslsimpette commented on a different Spot post that they want an N$FW alphabet for the Spot 😈

Honestly I was thinking of making one of these because they seem very thorough. Great way to make a guideline for smut writing.

First one I’ve done before, and it was hard to get all of the words for the funky letters like Q and X. But anyways…

(god this took so long…)

N$FW Alphabet for The Spot/Johnathan Ohnn

All of the writing beyond this point is smutty

A - How good is he at aftercare?

He’s very doting.

“Did that feel good?” “Are you alright?” “Do you need anything?” “Let me get you some water.” “Do you want to rinse off?”

If you decide you want a bath, he will use his portals to (haphazardly) run you one so he doesn’t have to leave your side.

Cuddles and pillows and blankets galore, trying his best to make you comfortable.

B - What’s his favorite body part on you?

He likes looking at your face, studying your features and committing them to memory. Especially your eyes.

It completely stumps the both of you as to how he can perceive things like sight, scent, and sound without normal features like a nose or eyes or ears, but you won’t question it.

He doesn’t mean to stare, he really doesn’t. You can always tell when he is though, because the his face portal swirls in a different kind of way. What an interesting way to read someone.

He just likes your eyes, your freckles, your birthmarks, your scars, the features that set you apart from everyone else and makes you you.

The fact that he’s missing his own face adds to this little obsession. He misses his old body, but that doesn’t mean he can’t love you for yours.

It’s not entirely sexual, but he does like watching the way your face looks when you’re.. ahem. Enjoying yourself.

The way your eyes roll back, or the way your mouth hangs open, the drool and the tears. He loves all of it and he loves that he’s the one making you look that way.

C - Cum. Anything to do with that particular liquid.

He doesn’t excrete normal bodily fluids like saliva or semen. At least not anymore. Anything that comes out of him is dark and oozy.

If he’s overstimulated, all of his holes will start leaking. It can get a bit messy, especially on the sheets. Thank goodness it doesn’t stain fabric or skin…

He gets very embarrassed whenever he starts leaking (or sees it leaking out of you).

D - What’s his dirty secret?

He won’t admit it, but he’s stolen a few pieces of your clothing.

It’s proven that he can eat through the hole on his face and taste and sense spice. So I want to assume that he can also smell.

He likes to hold your clothes or your sheets over the hole in his face while he touches himself, sometimes even slipping some of the fabric in to get a taste.

But there was one time he got a little too carried away and now one of your favorite hoodies that you thought you lost is floating around in dark matter space somewhere.

He’s too ashamed to tell you.

E - Experience. How much does he have?

None. None whatsoever. At least not any hands on experience with partners other than you.

He’s seen enough p0rn (the good stuff, none of that over dramatic acting crap) to know what’s good or not. He knows what to look for, signs your close or if you’re uncomfortable.

In typical scientist fashion, he has his strategies and, in theory, he could easily keep you on the edge for as long as he wants or absolutely wreck you.

He just hasn’t mustered up the courage to put his plans into action though…

F - What’s his favorite position?

Ride him. Ride him. He likes seeing you on top of him.

He’s very vanilla when it comes to this. He doesn’t want you to twist or bend in uncomfortable positions.

But with that power of his, the ability to stick a limb through one hole and make it appear somewhere else? What else could he do…?

G - Goof or aloof? His general attitude.

He’s a goof. A whole nerd. What else would you expect of a scientist?

The only time he’s not is when he’s brooding, focused on revenge, on proving himself.

He wants to prove he’s not just some “Villain of the Week.” He wants to prove to you that he’s all you need.

H - Hair. How much does he have? Is he well groomed?

The poor man misses his hair, so he lives vicariously through yours.

He’s not particularly into hair pulling. He does enjoy this though:

Your head leaned back against a pillow on top of his fist as he grips the back of your head, holding it in place as he… (insert smexy scene that I can’t put into proper words right now).

When you’re both finished he likes to run his fingers through it, play with it, braid it, just touch it in general.

I - Intimacy. How is he in romantic aspect?

He tries to be romantic, and sometimes it works. Other times it comes off cheesy. That just makes you love him more though.

He’s a bit traditional. Flowers, candle light, cute little picturesque date night set ups (away from onlookers, obviously)

Secluded spots around the city like rooftops or museums and restaurants after they close.

And when you tell him it’s goofy shit like this that makes you want to absolutely destroy him in the bedroom, date night is normally cut a little short.

J - Does he jerk off?

He prefers to do it with you, but if he’s alone he’ll make do with his hands.

K - What are his kinks?

Edging. Edge him until all of his holes are leaking black ooze (call me weird, I have a vision). Edge him until he whines and cries and begs to cum.

Degrade him, but in a nice way. He won’t let anyone do it but you. Don’t call him pathetic. Don’t make him feel bad about himself. Make him feel like you’re in control. Like he can let himself go.

L - Location. What’s his favorite place to do it?

He’s down to do it anywhere as long as no one else is around.

And he can really go anywhere. Anywhere in your dimension or any other. Pick a spot, and he’ll take you there.

M - Motivation. What turns him on?

The edges of his holes are sensitive. If you touch the place where spot meets skin, he’ll squirm.

It feels like a tingle to him. A localized one.

Run your fingers along the inside of a hole on his palm and the feeling will shoot up his forearm. Do it on his stomach or his thighs or god forbid between his legs when his cock isn’t in use (he keeps it somewhere), and you’ll work him up real quick.

N - No, absolutely not. What turns him off? Something he won’t do?

He won’t participate in exhibitionism. He wants to be the only one to see you come undone. It’s all because of him after all. He should be the only one to witness it.

O - Oral. How does he feel about it? Giving? Receiving?

Seeing as though he doesn’t have a mouth anymore, he can’t eat you out. But he really, really wishes he could.

He was reluctant to let you put himself in your mouth, seeing as though he wasn’t sure if his strange ooze could be safely digested.

You were confident though, insistent you wanted it.

P - Pace. Fast and rough or slow and gentle?

It depends on how he feels.

If he’s feeling intimate and romantic, laid back, he’ll take things slow.

If he’s trying in that state of mind where he’s trying to prove himself to you, he will give it all he’s got to the point where he wears himself out.

Q - Quickies. How does he feel about them?

If you work him up in public, he will find somewhere in an alley or rooftop to bang one out. To bang you.

R - Does he take risks?

What’s a good villain without a few risks? And he wants to be a good villain. He just doesn’t think that applies to the bedroom.

There was the time he got a bit carried away, and in the middle of a particularly intense love making session, one of his portals opened involuntarily.

You immediately recognized your apartment building’s elevator. The mirrored walls, the carpet, the sliding doors closing behind a neighbor as they were leaving.

He apologized profusely and said he’d close it, but you told him to keep it open and he was too riled up to stop now. He was so close. Maybe just one more minute…

It was a sick, nerve-racking game of elevator roulette.

S - Stamina. How many rounds will he last?

He can last maybe two or three rounds when he’s on top. If you want more, you’ll have to take over, climbing on top of him and pressing him into the bed as you pull more out of him.

T - Toys. Does he use them? On you? On himself?

He’s a big fan of vibes. Whether it’s something that goes inside either you or him or something that slides around his cock.

Anything that gives off that extra little buzzy feeling.

He doesn’t like fleshlights. He’d rather be inside you.

U - “Unfair!” How does he feel about teasing? Giving? Receiving?

He’s absolute shit at dishing it out. He gets too flustered to tease you, even when he’s on top.

He’s also the “don’t bully me, I’ll cum” type. Tease him, degrade him (but be kind), call him your little cum puppy (Dalmatian comment reference?) and he will pass away.

V - How vocal is he? What sounds does he make?

Johnathan has a tendency to ramble during love making. One moment he’s drilling you or getting drilled by you, and the next he’s telling you fun facts about whatever comes to mind.

He doesn’t do it on purpose. His brain simply short circuits at some point. He goes with what he knows.

(Why don’t you turn it into a game? See how many facts he can name about a specific subject before he cums…)

In general, he’s very whiny. That coupled with all of the begging creates a perfect symphony.

Exhibit A: “Ohh fuck! Ah, youfeelsssoosogood.. please, (Y/N) please. m’ so close, please. don’t stop dontstopp aaahhn~”

W - Wild card. A miscellaneous headcanon.

As a part of the monster fucker fandom, of course anything that doesn’t have a standard cock has a tentacle one.

Anyways. Portal cock…

Enough said.

X - X Marks the Spot (kms for this joke). His favorite place to be touched.

Anywhere! He just wants you to touch him.

So many people think he’s scary or creepy. When you touch him, all of that goes away.

Y - Yearning. How high is his sex drive?

He’s not insane about it to the point where he constantly craves sex but when he gets in the mood he can be very needy.

Z - ZZZ… how long does it take to fall asleep after the deed is done?

If he’s been thoroughly fucked beyond his limit, he will pass out almost immediately after (after cuddling up beside you and making sure you’re comfortable)

Feel free to ask for different characters to write these for! (but maybe limit it to 4 or 5 letters…)