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weaselle · 16 days

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i want to talk about real life villains

Not someone who mugs you, or kills someone while driving drunk, those are just criminals. I mean VILLAINS.

Not like trump or musk, who are... cartoonishly evil. And not sexy villains, not grandiose villains, not even satisfyingly two dimensional villains it is easy to hate unconditionally. The real villains.

I had a client who was a retired executive for one of the big oil companies, i think it was Shell or Chevron. Had a home just outside of San Francisco that was wall to wall floor to ceiling full of expensive art. Literally. I once accidentally knocked a painting off the wall because it was hanging at knee height at the corner of the stairs, and it had a little brass plaque on it, and i looked up the name of the artist and it was Monet's apprentice and son-in-law, who was apparently also a famous painter. He had an original Andy Warhol, which should have been a prize piece for anyone to showcase -- it was hanging in the bathroom. I swear to god this guy was using a Chihuly (famous glass sculptor) as a fruit bowl. And he was like, "idk my wife was the one who liked art"

I was intrigued by this guy, because in the circles i run this dude is The Enemy. right? Wealthy oil executive? But as my client, he was... like a sweet grandpa. A poor widower, a nice old man, anyone who knew him would have called him a sweetheart. He had a slightly bewildered air, a sort of gentle bumbling nature.

And the fact that he was both of these things, a Sweet Little Old Man and The Enemy, at the same time, seemed important and fascinating to me.

He reminded me of some antagonist from fiction, but i couldn't put my finger on who. And when i did it all made sense.

John Hammond.

probably one of the most realistic bad guys ever written.

If you've only ever seen the movie, this will need some explaining.

Michael Crichton wrote Jurassic Park in 1990, and i read it shortly thereafter. In the movie, the dinosaurs are the antagonists, which imo erases 50% of the point of the story.

book spoilers below.

In the book, John Hammond is the villain but it takes the reader like half the book to figure that out. Just like my client, John is a sweet old man who wants lovely things for people. He's a very sympathetic character. But as the book progresses, you start to see something about him.

He has an idea, and he's sure it's a good one. When someone else dies in pursuit of his dream, he doesn't think anything of it. When other people turn out to care about that, he brings in experts to evaluate the safety of his idea, and when they quickly tell him his idea is dangerous and needs to be put on hold, he ignores his own experts that he himself hired, because they are telling him that he is wrong, and he is sure he is right.

In his mind, he's a visionary, and nobody understands his vision. He is surrounded by naysayers. Several things have proven too difficult to do the best and safest way, so he has cut corners and taken shortcuts so he can keep moving forward with his plans, but he's sure it's fine. He refuses to hear any word of caution, because he believes he is being cautious enough, and he knows best, even though he has no background in any of the sciences or professions involved. He sends his own grandchildren out into a life-threatening situation because he is willfully ignorant of the danger he is creating.

THIS is like the real villains of the world. He doesn't want anyone to die. Far from it, he only wants good things for people! He's a sweet old man who loves his grandchildren. But he has money and power and refuses to hear that what he is doing is dangerous for everyone, even his own family.

I think he's possibly one of the most important villains ever written in popular fiction.

In the book, he is killed by a pack of the smallest, cutest, "least dangerous" dinosaurs, because a big part of why we read fiction is to see the villains face thematic justice. But like a cigarette CEO dying of lung cancer, his death does not stop his creation from spreading out into the world to continue to endanger everyone else.

I think it is really important to see and understand this kind of villainy in fiction, so you can recognize it in real life.

Sweetheart of a grandfather. Wanted the best for everyone. Right up until what was best for everyone inconvenienced the pursuit of his own interests.

And my client was like that too. His wife had died, and his dog was now the love of his life, and she was this little old dog with silky hair in a hair cut that left long wispy bits on her lower legs. Certain plant materials were easily entangled in this hair and impossible to get out without pulling her hair which clearly hurt her. When i suggested he ask his groomer to trim her lower leg hair short to avoid this, he refused, saying he really liked her usual hair cut.

I emphasized that she was in pain after every walk due to the plant debris getting caught in her leg hair, and a simple trim could put an end to her daily painful removal of it, and he just frowned like i'd recommended he take a bath in pig shit and said "But she'll be ugly" and refused to talk about it anymore.

Sweet old man though. Everyone loved him.

#villains #my life

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harrydubussy · 1 year

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What if I just...painted Harry w The Expression

#I could just do that #do want to paint something and it'd be fun to just casually hang him on my wall #actually could even paint something based on my icon #hold up now I have Ideas oml

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sexy-monster-fucker · 2 months

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Ghost of You

Logan Howlett/Wolverine x Mutant!Reader ANGST

Summary: After the events of Deadpool and Wolverine, Wade introduces Logan to the Reader. She looks just like his late wife from his Earth. When Logan starts treating her weirdly, she assumes he just doesn’t like her.

A/N: this is just a fun angsty idea I came up with. Love the idea of Logan having a late wife who haunts him everywhere he goes.

~~~

He froze completely in his tracks when he saw you. Standing in Wade’s living room, a bright smile painted on your face.

“Logan this is Y/N. She’s one of my best friends,” Wade introduced you. You extended a hand out to him, “It’s so nice to meet you, Logan.” He scowled as he stared at your hand. Growling and storming off into his own room. You furrowed your brows, looking back at Wade. “Well that was fucking weird,” Wade blinked.

That had been the first time you met. It was months later and things had not improved much. Anytime you were together you could feel Logan’s eyes burning into you. He practically never spoke to you, but could never take his eyes off you. It confused you. Often made things completely awkward and unbearable.

You were all hanging out at a mutual friend’s house out near the lakes. Everyone in your friend group was there. Wade showed up late. You were excited to see Wade until you saw Logan trailing behind him. Heart sinking in your stomach and lump forming in your throat. In your panic, you headed outside to the lit fire pit. Alone away from everyone. You caught your breath.

You liked Logan. Logan when you weren’t around. Watching him from afar trying not to disturb him. Something about you made him uncomfortable. You wanted him to have an easy time adjusting to a whole new place. Trying your hardest to distance yourself anytime he was around so he could be his true self. You felt a sort of connection to Logan. You longed to be around him. Chalking it up to be some sort of crush you had formed.

You stared at your phone. Hearing everyone erupt in laughter together occasionally. Sad that you were having to miss out on the fun, but doing what you thought was right. Debating on leaving, instead of just watching everyone enjoy your absence. You were a people watcher though, it warmed your heart to see everyone inside having a good time.

One of the doors to the patio opened. Catching your attention at the sudden sound. It was Logan. Your eyes dropping down to your phone, trying to ignore him. He joined you at the fire pit, sitting next to you. He stared into the flames not even acknowledging your existence. You were confused why he would come out here with you. Complete silence other than the sounds of the outside world moving around you. Awkwardly shooting a glance over at him. His eyes meeting yours momentarily. Both of you darted your gaze back down.

“You look just like her,” he admitted.

You stiffened your back, trying your best not to look at him. Silence other than the crackling fire in front of you.

“Who?”

“My wife,” he sighed.

And then, everything clicked in your mind. It was not that he didn’t like you, it was that you looked like someone from his past.

“If there was another version of me on this Earth, maybe you’re the version of her for this one. Not that you owe me anything, you just look so much like her. So beautiful,” he trailed off. Embarrassing himself with his confession.

“You— She died on my Earth. Fighting in a war against other mutants. She was the best thing that ever happened to me. I never forgave myself for not being able to protect her,” Logan’s eyes fixated on you.

“Is that why you acted so cold the first time we met?” You quietly questioned.

“It was like seeing a ghost. You look just like her. Sound just like her. Hell, you even wear the same perfume,” his face fell into his hands. You never knew the Logan of your world. Seeing headlines in the news about him from time to time, but never knowing him personally. Yes, you were a mutant, but not a very mutant crossed paths.

“It was like I felt everything all over again. I never meant to be such a prick,” Logan grumbled into his hands. You silently sat as he sulked beside you. Clear distress written on his figure. Unsure of how to help him, wondering if speaking would only make things worse.

“What was she like?” You attempted to break the ice. Praying he would lighten up.

Deep hazel eyes peered at you over top his hands. Slight cock of an eyebrow on his heavy forehead. Sitting up straight and looking up at the sky, Logan sighed, soft chuckle painting his tone. “She was the life of every room she was in. Always cracking jokes, getting everyone else to smile. Kindest girl you’d ever meet. We worked at an academy, all the kids loved her. Looked up to her. Effortlessly beautiful. She could’ve had any guy she wanted, but she chose me. Look where that got her,” he trailed off looking down at the flames in front of him. You swallowed heavy. Unsure what to say back. “You’re a lot like her. Especially to hear everyone talk about you. The way everyone just flocks to you every time you enter a room, I— Wade had told me a lot about you,” Logan looked at you softer than normal.

You felt your face heat up. Not ever having anyone talk about you that way. Not knowing Wade had been gushing about you to his new roommate.

Crickets hummed in the distance, a familiar silence. Logan watched all your friends inside having fun. Smiling. “Everyone in there adores you. I’m sorry I’ve been taking you away from that with my mean mug,” Logan huffed.

“Do you think… I could get to know you,” you asked, doe eyes staring at Logan. His head whipping back to look at you. A face he had fallen in love with some time ago. Sitting right before him, staring back at him. Fluttering the lashes he had grown to love. Locks of hair the color he was used to rolling over and seeing sprawled across the pillow. Looking just as beautiful as the day he last held her in his arms.

“I’d- I’d love that,” Logan smiled at you. You returned his look, feeling a weight fall off your shoulders. Demeanors changing with the new found attitude between you. Deciding the best way to learn more about each other was just to ask outright.

“So, what’s your favorite color?”

“Red.”

Your conversation went on like this for the rest of the night. Chatting even as everyone else left the party. Wade watched with a smile on his face from inside.

~~~

[END]

// Thank you so much for reading! This was just a quick fun concept I came up with the other day. Hope you enjoyed! If you have any requests, feel free to send them my way, or if you’d like to be tagged in any further Fics, let me know! //

{tags}

@toogaytofunctiondangit ~ @megangovier ~ @castle-of-ruin ~

#wolverine #wolverine x reader #logan howlett #logan howlett x reader #deadpool and wolverine #deadpool #deadpool 3 #hugh jackman #hugh jackman x reader #writing #fanfic #mcu #sexymonsterfics #angst

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inkskinned · 10 months

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it is the first snow today. i think we should all have off work, even though it didn't stick. i think there should be 4 national holidays, one for each season. happy first snow, go home and make cookies. for spring it can be the first crocus. for summer the first lightning bug. for autumn, the first golden leaf. go home, kiss your dog, feed your cat (who is absolutely already-fed but somehow still starving.)

i think we should all take more showers together, but i mean that in the soft way. i mean it like taking a nap. two years ago i had 5 adult friends in my queen bed, all of us laying across each other, head over belly over thigh over hand. any time one of us would giggle, it would ripple over each of us, like pulling on a spiderweb. kim actually needed to nap and didn't get to sleep and i am still sorry for it even though this is one of my most precious memories.

i think we should all wash each other's hair, i mean. i walk my dog and i watch someone put up twinkle lights around their front porch. alex and i just moved, and i love the neighborhood. already so many of our new neighbors have stopped by to say hello. the nice lady downstairs also collects plants, like me. she gave us her number on a pink post-it note. i am trying to decide whether to make her cookies or brownies.

i am going through a very hard time. something bad happened this weekend that i do not wish to discuss. it is hanging over me. i think of the green ribbon, and the woman who had her throat cut. it feels like that sometimes, inside of my body. like i am walking and talking despite being half-corpsed. like i am hanging on by a ribbon, standing on some kind of cusp. i keep saying - at least it wasn't worse. we are so lucky it wasn't worse. the idea is river-rock smooth now, all the edges worried off.

in this very dark night - the sun sets by 3 now - people don't need to, but they try anyway. they paint the missing light into things. i have an embarrassing number of missed calls and texts, but i feel the love from them nevertheless - hey. if you need something, i'm here. i will bring you food/puzzles/anything. i got you.

i think we should all have a big group chat where we do errands with strangers. this week i got lost in a home depot, which is wild because i'm a lesbian and we are actually hatched in a lowe's lumber section. there were two other women in the whole store. we ended up shopping together, at first by accident (we all needed things in the same aisle), and then because, well, why not. one of the ladies was taller than me, so she pulled down the screws i needed. i am agile and have the personality of a raccoon, so they sent me after anything below 3 feet. we talked about holiday plans and never learned each other's names, but did learn all the drama about each other's families.

i am making you cupcakes, because i have so much affection i want to pour it into batter. you ask me if i am eating enough per meal. i wrap your gift twice, trying to do it prettily. i get excited to give it to you, just because i hope you'll be excited too.

my parents drive an hour just to see the new apartment and to do the parent thing; standing in the kitchen saying things like "oh you'll get so much use from this dishwasher" and "well, you could paint that" and "when your mother and i moved it was uphill both ways and in a snowstorm and of course your brother was an infant." my mother brought me a plant for housewarming. i always say i love you before she leaves.

i play dnd on tuesdays still, after all these years. we all keep that night free. at one point, between grad school and marriage and all of it, we had to have a serious discussion about how to keep it running. we will keep going, we decided eventually. just to see each other, even if we don't play - you are all important to me. sebastian is not prone to affection but last night he stole my usual sign off - i love you all, be good, he said. he was laughing.

i don't love the winter, actually. i like snow in theory, but i grew up in the north, and am too-familiar with the season of "mud and sludge". i don't like being cold. but i do love something kind of soft and rare: every year around this time, people remember oh yes. you and i are human together. and i have love to spare.

it is the first snow, and something in my heart is finally warm again. i have spent what felt like the last 18 months just going-through-the-motions. it has felt blank and immediate, like i would never actually feel again. that sounds extremely trite and stupid - but that is the boring and familiar experience of depression. life just washes up against your windows, and you watch it happening. you see things that should be lovely and affecting, and it just whispers too-thin. i was desperately uncreative. uninterested in my hobbies. unimpressed by my writing. i told my therapist, often, i don't know how to find hope again.

almost sheepishly, something strange and lovely is burning in my chest. i keep not-looking at it, worried it will scamper back into the shadows again. it is skittish and wild, but it is so warm i want to sink my hands into its fur and feel it breathing. i love-hate it: if it's real, it can hurt me when it leaves again. but i am icarus-born, sun-lover and poet: i can't help myself. despite my best intentions, i am falling in love with life again.

i am planning to make cookies for my friends. alex and i are going to go christmas tree shopping. we picked out matching dish towels last night, and they have little mushrooms on them.

i love you. it does come back. yes, even after a long time. even for you. i promise. keep trying. you will wake up and it will be a day you can smile about.

write me when you get there. we will take the day off of work, and i will wash your hair, and we will both be laughing.

#spilled ink #writeblr #pos #recovery #my brain is like - don't trust it!!!!!!! AHHHHHHH!!!!! we can't be wrong again!!!!!!#and im like. what if the sorrow is the thing that's wrong though.#what if this - this!!!!! - is the truth

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jji-lee · 10 days

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dreamies kinks .

(MDNI)

everything mentioned is consensual , unprotected sex (be smart) , everything is labelled before u read so be warned , idea by this lovely request !

❀༉‧₊˚. mark lee is needy all the time, all he every thinks about is fucking you

cock warming

the idea of just having you sit on his lap, cock buried deep inside you makes his head turn. only time during something sexual that mark will be calm. if he's stressed this is his go to. it's like meditating for him, feeling you pulse around him, warm and wet. by the end of it he'll have you face down ass up as he rams into you. "s' warm baby, sweet pussy hugging me so tight. feel good baby? feel me deep inside you?"

exhibitionism

the type where you fuck in places where you could possibly get caught. he doesn't care if you're at the mall or backstage of a concert, if he wants you he'll have you. gets turned on by the fact that someone (usually haechan) will walk in on you guys, fucks you harder so that your moans grow louder. it's his way of letting people know you're his. "shhh baby, wouldn't want someone to hear us right? wouldn't want everyone knowing how good i fuck you hm?"

recording

he will always take his phone out and start to record you. whenever he's on tour or just bored he'll open his hidden folder with all the pics and vids of you guys having sex. he might even use an audio of you moaning in one of his songs, if you let him ofc. "fuck baby, i wish you could see yourself right now, you look so hot, sound so pretty too, damn."

❀༉‧₊˚. huang renjun doesn't have sex he makes love, it's intimate and beautiful.

temperature play

whether it's wax or ice he gets turned on by seeing you squirm around from the feeling. sometimes he'll even blindfold you so you won't know what's coming. loves to hold the ice in his mouth as he traces it along your body. "like when i put ice here hm? look at how hard these pretty little nipples are baby."

marking

he always leaves marks on your body. it could be love bites on your chest, or slap marks on your ass. it's the possessive side of jun that can't help but see you painted in purple and pink. "fuck angel, you're all mine right? everyone's gonna know you're all mine."

bondage

hes the type to buy pretty ties and ropes to wrap you up in. will study kinbaku to do it with you. something about seeing you 100% vulnerable to him (and wrapped up with pretty rope) that makes him want to ravage you. "alright angel, put your hands behind your back, tell me if it's too tight okay?"

❀༉‧₊˚. lee jeno likes when you know he's in charge, sex with him is hot and rough

face fucking

loves to see you gag around him. he'll hold your head steady as he fucks himself into your mouth, barely letting you come up for air. "fuck, my pretty baby takes this cock so well. just a little bit more hm? you can do it baby."

breeding

this is a given tbh. the idea of getting you pregnant awakens the most possessive instinct in him. knowing that you trust him and only him to fill you up drives him crazy. "i'm the only one that can fill this pretty little pussy, right baby? only me."

size

another given. he alwaysss mentions how tiny you are compared to him during sex. makes you watch him as he fucks you, your tight cunt practically suffocating his cock. wraps his whole body around you, just to feel how much bigger he is than you. "fuck baby, this tight little pussy is squeezing me so good, barely fits baby, look."

❀༉‧₊˚. lee donghyuck doesn't want you to fuck him, he wants you to use him

breath play

he enjoys choking you but he loves when you choke him. your small hands wrapped around his neck as you ride him will actually drive him insane. his eyes roll back and his mouth hangs open as he feels himself losing oxygen. will literally make him finish every time. just imagine him with an opened mouth smirk as you choke him since he can't speak without air LMAO

overstimulation

that slight pain he feels as you keep fucking him after he's finished makes his toes curl. he's begging you to stop but you know deep down he loves being overstimulated. no matter how much he squirms and tries to push you off, his whiny little moans speak for themselves. "shit, shit, shit, baby, fuck, too much, s' too much, please, i can't, fuck baby i'm, i'm, fuckkk."

degradation

hyucks a dirty perv and he knows it, thats why he thinks it's so hot when you call him names, make fun of him, maybe even slap him around. hearing you talk down to him, telling him that you're better than him will have him on his knees. "fuck yes, i'm your dirty baby, shit, i'm so pathetic baby, keep using me please that's all i'm good for."

❀༉‧₊˚. na jaemin thinks you're perfect, thats why in bed all he wants to do is ruin you

face fucking

jaemin can't get enough of your mouth. all he ever wants to do is fuck your mouth until your mascaras running and drool is spilling from the sides of your lips. he does it mainly for the view tbh. his pretty girl with her mouth full of cock, yes please. "there you go princess, just like that, keep those pretty eyes on me baby, wanna see you when i stuff your mouth full of cum."

clothed sex

he takes you shopping just so he can help you pick out a cute outfit to fuck you in. he loves pushing your soaked panties to the side just to slip himself in, grabbing onto your crumpled skirt as he takes you from behind, pulling your shirt up just enough to have your tits peeking out the bottom. "look so pretty in this little skirt baby, can practically see all your ass. s' easy for me to just- slip right in."

dacryphilia

seeing that you're literally crying, cause the sex is that good is the biggest ego boost for jaemin. it'll just push him to go harder, a choked sob leaving your mouth as he fucks you at an inhumane pace. "look at you baby, fuck you so good you're crying? daddy making you feel good, hm? use your words princess."

❀༉‧₊˚. zhong chenle is a brat especially during sex, he can't help but tease you

cock warming

this little shit does this just to see you squirming. he'll have the calmest demeanor, acting completely unaffected by the fact that his cock is stuffed inside you. he's dying to just flip you over and fuck you but he'll wait till you're practically in tears begging him to fuck you. "dirty girl, can feel your pussy throbbing. can't even stay still for 5 minutes? i have no choice but to punish you hm?"

edging

literally can go hours teasing you. he'll use his cock, fingers, mouth, even toys to bring you to your orgasm, just so that he can tell you to hold it in. by the end of the night you're crying begging for release, but he's waiting for the right moment, if it ever comes... "wanna cum baby hm? i know you do, just hold on a little bit more okay? you're doing so good for me, so good, love seeing you like this beautiful."

forced orgasm

same concept different outcome, your whining and screaming is like a drug to him. i 100% believe that chenle is a pro at making girls squirt (srry not srry) the scenes almost pornographic as he rubs your clit at an inhumane pace, other hand occupied as he stuffs you full with his finger. your legs are shaking, body moist with sweat as you cum for the 5th time that night. "it's okay mama, you're okay. feel good right? let's go for one more hm?

❀༉‧₊˚. park jisung is a shy freak, blushing as he's 8 inches deep

size

jisung is big, and he knows it. big nose, big hands, big dick. he loves grabbing your tits and ass, no matter how big they are his hands make them look tiny. and he loves easing his cock into you watching as you tiny cunt sucks him in, his mouth wide open, shocked that you can take him. "oh my- baby, taking me so well, you're doing so good for me baby, just a little bit more okay? you can take it."

praise

he needs validation. hearing you say he's doing good makes him want to work harder. even if he's at his limit he'll hold it in just to keep fucking you, his priority is to make you feel good, so he loves when you reassure him "is this okay? tell me i'm doing good baby, fuck, just wanna make you feel good."

role play

i know this little freak likes when you dress up. you'd surprise him with new outfits: a nurse, a teacher, and his favorite a secretary. it gives him an excuse to put on a tie and his new glasses, and maybe just maybe, he likes the fact that he gets to be your boss, hearing you call him sir might just be the highlight of his night. "so fucking dirty, love it when your boss fills you up hm? taking you here in my office where anyone can walk in? fuck, naughty girl."

me when i lose my mind:

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loserboysandlithium · 2 months

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Fantasy: Eddie x reader x Billy

Part one, part two, part three, part four

Four part mini series. Minors DNI. Explicit sexual content

I can't just walk up and ask him. Hey! Wanna fuck me and my boyfriend?

How do I do this? Fuck, he's pretty.

"Just an oil change?" Billy mumbles, bringing you out of your thoughts.

"Hmm? Oh, yeah. Just the oil... I think." you say shyly and he meets your eyes for the first time, giving you a little smile.

"Is that your car?" you gesture toward his Camaro. You know it's his. It's the same car he had in school. It still looks just as pretty.

He really smiles then. "Yeah, that's my baby." he grins, glancing over at his pride and joy. The topic opens up the door for conversation, and he begins to talk a little more as he changes your oil. You can’t help but watch him as he works, taking in his white tank top, little grease smears splattered all over it. The fabric clinging to his muscles.

There's something about a man with dirty hands. Working hands. Fuck me.

His sandy curls hang loose around his neck, freckles peppering his tan skin. His jeans hug his muscular thighs, the denim practically painted on. And that ass. Fuck.

He continues making small talk. Asking how life after school has been. It's been a while since you've seen him. Every once in a while you'd run into him in the grocery store or at a gas station but you always avoided him.

"You look good." he drawls and you notice his eyes slowly roaming over your body. He doesn’t try to hide it for a second. A mischievous glint in his pretty blue eyes as his lips curl into a smile.

Shit.. focus.

"So do you. You always do." you blurt out and he chuckles deeply.

Ask him. Say something.

"Good to go." he pats your hood and throws the greasy towel over his shoulder.

"Wait.. Billy. I have something to ask you." you mutter nervously.

He looks at you with a knowing smirk. He's so cocky but it's fucking hot. He already knows I want him.

"You wanna take me on a date, pretty girl?" he winks at you and you can’t stop yourself from blushing.

"Not exactly. I have a boyfriend." you say quickly.

"Okay... so we have to be like.. sneaky?" he asks, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, no. Not exactly."

Billy steps closer to you and you look up into his blue eyes. His stare makes you even more nervous. He’s so close. You can smell his cologne mixed with Marlboro’s, a little musky scent from his sweat.

"You have my attention." he winks, looming over you.

Here we go.

*******

Billy stands there awkwardly as he lights a cigarette. "I've uh.. never done something like this before." he mumbles, shuffling his feet as he inhales deeply, smoke filling his lungs. You look over at Eddie who is simply smirking at Billy’s discomfort, arms folded casually across his chest.

"So you're just gonna like.. watch?" Billy asks as he exhales the smoke slowly through his nostrils.

Billy had wasted no time saying he would happily "fuck your brains out". But he wasn't keen on the idea of a threesome.

"Until you ask me to join." Eddie states calmly.

"I won't." Billy answers sternly.

"Okay, alright.” Eddie laughs lightly, throwing his hands up in mock surrender. "Then yeah.. I'll just watch."

"You guys are fucking kinky." Billy chuckles as he turns his attention back to you.

"You ready, doll?" He gives you a look that makes you throb.

"Yes." you whisper as you pull the string of your robe. You let it fall from your frame leaving you in your favorite lingerie.

You watch as both of them look you up and down. "You look good, baby." Eddie rasps.

Billy nods in agreement, keeping his eyes on you as he places his cigarette in the ashtray and makes his way closer.

His hand reaches out, fingertips trailing lightly down your arm before his heavy hand lands on your hip. Your breath quickens as he leans in.

"Billy?" you breathe as his lips get closer.

"Yes?"

"I want it rough." you whisper and he smirks as he reaches down and picks you up easily, tossing you roughly to the bed. Oh shit.

You watch as he takes off his shirt, his chiseled body now on display. As he slips out of his jeans, Eddie comes to kiss you. You hold him close, fingers threading in his curls as his tongue slips in your mouth just for a moment.

His lips move to whisper in your ear. "Mmm, I’m so ready to fuck you myself, baby. But I can’t wait to watch him split you open.”

You moan softly at his words and he kisses you one more time before hopping off the bed.

"She's all yours." he announces to Billy and then suddenly he's on top of you. His weight feels different. Heavier. His body is radiating heat as his arms rest on either side of your head. His blue eyes are piercing. He’s so fucking close.

"Hi." you breathe out staring up at him. His chain dangles in the space between you.

"Hi." he returns with a charming smile. He glances over at Eddie and you quickly grip his chin, bringing his face back to you. You grip the chain pulling him down and finally his lips are on yours.

Your arms immediately wrap around his neck pulling him close. His kiss is firm but gentle.

You slip your tongue in his mouth and moan at the taste of him. Your tongues swirl together wildly, both of you panting into the kiss. Your hips lift up, pressing against his groin, craving any friction at all on your already aching clit. I can feel him. He's big, like Eddie. I knew he would be.

He hums into the kiss as he feels you grinding against his cock, his hand begins to wander your body. He cups your breast, squeezing gently, pulling a needy moan from you.

You keep your hand around his neck as you continue exploring his mouth with your tongue. You don't want his lips to leave yours. He tastes so good. His lips are soft and smooth, his tongue dancing with yours making your stomach flutter. You weave your fingers through his sandy curls as he slips his hand under your lace bra to tease your nipple between his rough fingers.

His lips separate from yours leaving you panting as he moves to suck on your neck. He’s not being easy, his suction sure to leave behind a deep bruise, a nice memory for when he’s gone. His hand travels lower, slowly trailing across your stomach until he finally meets your warmth. A sound almost like a growl escapes Billy’s chest as he realizes you’re wearing crotchless panties.

"You're so fucking wet." he groans into your neck making you smile.

"Touch me, Billy. Please." you whine and he brings his face back to yours as he runs a single finger up and down your slit. Teasing you in the most delicious way.

"You want my fingers, baby? My mouth? Tell me." he burns as he slips a finger inside of you.

"Mmm.. yes. Both.. fuck." you moan as you keep your eyes on his.

He grins wickedly as he begins kissing down your body. His lips are soft and warm as he plants kisses across your breast and stomach.

He removes his finger and spreads your legs wide. You look down and watch carefully as his tongue dips inside of you.

"Ohh.. fuck." you whimper as he licks up your dripping slit.

You've wanted to see this for so long. Billy Hargrove buried between your thighs. Fuck, it's just like you imagined.

Your hips buck up and he presses them back down forcefully, holding you in place as he begins to devour you.

Eddie's POV

Holy shit. I slowly stroke my cock as I watch Billy Hargrove going down on my girl. I never thought I’d see this day come. She's so fucking hot. Her eyes trained on him. Her mouth parted beautifully.

Her cries and whimpers are enough to make me cum already but I want to wait.

I want to cum with her. Need to cum with her.

I watch as she grips his hair tightly, pressing him deeper into her pussy. I can hear the sounds of his tongue lapping. His lips sucking wildly. His low moans being swallowed by her perfect cunt.

I understand. She tastes so fucking sweet.

I spit on my hand and lean back as I continue the slow motion up and down. I’m so fucking hard. Precum leaking from my tip. My cock is aching. Begging for the sweet release. It’s the best kind of torture. She squeals loudly as Billy enters two thick fingers.

You're killing me, sweetheart.

I can tell by her sounds that she's close. Her legs are propped up on Billy's shoulders. I keep my eyes on her as they begin to tremble around his head.

There you go, baby. Cum for him.

It’s almost as if she can hear my thoughts, the tightness in her stomach breaking as she cries out his name, her body jerking wildly. I pick up speed, my hand moving quickly up and down my cock, the slick sounds of me fucking my own hand only add to the obscene noises coming from the two of them. I hear a guttural moan come from Billy’s chest as my pretty girl cums on his face and hand.

I want to taste her. Fuck.. I'll get my turn.

I slow down my hand trying to hold out on busting already. Not yet.

He's about to fuck her. And I can only imagine it's gonna be rough.

Reader’s POV

"Oh my god." you pant as Billy comes up from between your legs. The evidence of your orgasm clear all over his face.

"You're fucking sweet, you know that?" he rasps before kissing you passionately. You taste yourself all over his tongue as he moans into your mouth.

He reaches down, taking his thick cock in his fist, running his tip up and down your pussy before slapping it on your clit again and again. He gives you no time to recover from your first orgasm, lining himself up.

You gasp as you feel the delicious stretch. He takes his time, slowly gliding himself inside. Your legs beginning to tremble immediately.

"You're.. fuck you're big." you whimper. He was almost the same size as Eddie. Just a bit thicker with a little more length. Your mind started swirling with thoughts of both of them inside of you. He'll just need a little convincing.

You look over at Eddie who is watching you with lustful eyes. His hand slides up and down his cock as he gives his lip a small bite. He shoots you a little wink causing your pussy clenches around Billy’s dick. Fuck, he's so hot.

You feel his cock bottom out, he’s so fucking deep you can feel him in your stomach. He pulls almost all the way out and slams back into you bringing your attention back to him.

"Holy fuck!" you squeal and he just smirks down at you, loving the reaction you’re giving him.

"You said rough." he teases with a slick grin.

You nod, your eyes filling with tears as he begins to thrust in and out. Slowly picking up his pace. He rolls his hips into you, pressing down on your stomach, the sensation sending your eyes rolling to the back of your head.

"You feel so fucking good..." he moans as you lift your hips meeting his thrusts.

You reach down taking the sheets in between your fingers, gripping tightly as his long cock fills you again and again. Each thrust seems to somehow reach even deeper.

His hands move to grip the headboard above as he continues pumping in and out agonizingly slow. You look down seeing his cock slick with your cum.

“How’s that feel, baby?”

“So good, Billy.” you sigh blissfully, feeling cock drunk already and he’s barely even fucked you.

"You like my cock stretchin’ you out?" he groans deeply, rotating his hips, stretching your pussy even more.

“Mmm.. faster, Billy. Please.”

“Poor thing.” Billy tuts. “Want me to stop teasin’?”

“P-please.” you beg again, your voice nothing but a whisper.

"Fuck Billy!" You gasp as he begins to thrust into you mercilessly, giving you everything you wanted. You reach up, running your hands down his abs before gripping his waist tightly.

You dig your nails into him as he completely destroys you. The headboard slams against the wall again and again as he pounds your soaked pussy.

"You're so fucking hot.." he praises, kneeling on the bed. He swiftly tosses your leg over his shoulder. His strong hand comes to grip your throat as he leans down.

"Make me cum, Billy." you plead, nothing but a desperate mess for him.

"I'm gonna make you cum. You're gonna cum all over my cock, baby." he burns as his grip around your throat tightens even more.

Billy meets your eyes and runs his tongue across his teeth, a smile playing on his pretty lips.

"Ready?" he teases.

"Yes.." you whimper.

"You sure?" he grins as he slowly pulls out.

"Billy. Fuck. Me." you sass, your bitchy tone making him almost cum right there.

Then the breath is knocked from your lungs as he slams into you. This time he doesn't hold back at all. His grip is tight around your throat as he fucks you with everything in him.

Your head falls back and your mouth drops open silently as your eyes fall shut. Your breasts bouncing with every wild thrust.

You turn your head to the side as your eyelids flutter to watch as Eddie pumps his hand quickly up and down his cock.

He's gonna cum. I can see it on his face.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" Billy grunts as he drives into you, your pussy leaking around his cock, the creamy mess from your last orgasm coating every inch of his cock.

You nod quickly, feeling your leg shake against his shoulder. His fat tip kissing your sweet spot every time he enters you. You feel your body aching for the sweet release.

"Harder.." you barely manage to get the word out.

"Fuck.." Billy breathes as he quickly pulls out, flipping you over effortlessly. He slams your face into the mattress and enters you from behind.

You feel the sting of his firm hand against your ass and you cry out in pleasure. Your eyes zero in on Eddie as your mouth falls open again, little hums escaping your lips as Billy destroys you from behind.

His hand smacks your ass again and you feel your climax coming fast. You struggle to focus your sight on Eddie. Your eyes fighting to stay open. You force them open just long enough to see Eddie mouth one word in your direction.

'Cum.'

Your body reacts to his demand, your cum flooding Billy's cock. He moans deeply as he feels your pussy clenching around him. He keeps thrusting as you ride out your high. His hands massaging and groping your ass. He's breathing heavily as he pulls out of you, making you feel empty. You peek at Eddie, seeing his hand covered in his own sticky cum.

"Holy shit." you breathe, sitting up and turning to Billy, seeing his cock still rock hard. You take him in your mouth and begin sucking. His head falls back as you suck him clean of your juices.

"I want both of you." you purr, looking up at him.

He watches you carefully as you take him back in your mouth, swirling your tongue slowly around his tip.

"I... fuck.." he moans.

"She's really good at getting what she wants isn't she?" Billy chuckles looking over at Eddie.

"You're telling me." Eddie smirks.

You take him deep in your throat and look up at him through your eyelashes, fluttering them perfectly.

"Shit.. yeah.. yeah okay." Billy grunts. "Both of us."

Fuck yes.

Part three coming soon 🖤

Tag list: @gri959 @flory-alexandra @livinnadaydream @anakinsbbgirl @watermeezer @theyellowhaunt @nailbatanddungeon @mugloversonly @bunnyhargrove @ali-r3n @eddiestans-blog @alesiaaa @floredaqueen @josephquinnsfreckles @stargrrrlsworld @lemme-slytherin-that-dick @neville-is-my-husband @nope-thanks @bangchansleftbuttcheekk @daydream-believer19

Divider by @strangergraphics 🖤

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson smut #billy hargove x reader #billy hargrove smut #Eddie x reader x billy #billy hargrove x you

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splashesdarling · 11 days

Text

Louis and Armand's Dubai Penthouse - blending the traditional and modern, mixing materials and textures, an array of cultures and art across time, with accenting pops of colour

'So, I was like, "Okay, if I was a vampire that had lived through a century and I was well-traveled and was searching for mankind's humanity, what are the things that I would pull to the surface?" So, I wanted to capture different international styles, whether it was Moorish architecture or Japanese minimalism, but these different things that had a lot to do with contemplation, reflection, but also security.' [...] 'What else did we have? We had a few artists from New Orleans, some contemporary. I wanted there to be his connection to New Orleans, to home, his connection to his race, his connection to international travel, to psychology. There's also a textile piece that's hanging that's a kimono by a Korean artist. I think that knowing Louis's character, there's different paintings in the background that relate to women — whether that's an allusion to Claudia or his sister or his mother — but these devastating relationships, so there's imagery of women that we wanted to capture.'- Production Designer Mara LePere-Schloop. [X]

A few additional details about Louis and Armand's Dubai penthouse that should be of note:

Throughout the penthouse we see numerous and varied pieces of art, furniture, sculptures, and many other types of decór - all rich in colour and tone, lending a general warmth and personality to the otherwise bland, grey building.

Of all the rooms we see in the show, their bedroom is by far the most colourful and warm toned. Meaning that the room in which they are (presumably) the most private, unguarded, and comfortable is where we see the most personality and warmth in the décor.

In their bedroom, we can also observe several other clues as to their current dynamic. If you look closely at their bedframe, you can see it's made of a rich, carved wood, designed to have various shapes and sizes, with holes present across the width of the frame. These shapes and holes could be used to anchor restraints, like rope for bdsm play. This suggestion that their bdsm dynamic is still going strong in Dubai is further supported by the presence of several floggers and paddles on Armand's side of the room.

Another detail of note is that Louis' side of the bed features several books, undermining the suggestion his reading is restricted or controlled by Armand. Further proof of this is given when we see Louis has kept the floating book shelves after kicking Armand out of the penthouse (given that they were damaged, with some glass breaking, during their break-up - Louis would have needed to choose to keep them by repairing the damage/replacing them with like-for-like). Suggesting that it was purely an aesthetic choice made by both of them, not an attempt by Armand to control what Louis was reading (an argument first made because Armand can fly whereas Louis cannot).

A clue which demonstrates and supports the idea that Louis and Armand are both involved in decorating the penthouse is two key art pieces - The Kiss of Judas by Jakob Smits (1908) on Louis' side of the bedroom, and a painting in their dining room by Marius de Romanus, Armand's groomer and maker. Given that The Kiss of Judas references a grave betrayal, just as Armand betrayed Louis, it's highly unlikely that if Armand was in control of every design choice within the penthouse that Louis would be allowed to hang such a painting, especially within their bedroom. Likewise, it's highly unlikely, given what Marius did to Armand (which he told Louis about in detail), that Louis would allow Armand to hang such an art piece if he was the one choosing how to decorate the space. Meaning it's very likely they are both making choices together about how to adorn the penthouse.

The idea that they're deciding together how to decorate the penthouse is reinforced during episode six of season two, when the pair are discussing what to hang on their newly empty living room wall. They discuss changing their living room couches to fit with a proposed art piece, with Armand's "I assumed we would" and Louis' answering response that they'll end up replacing everything else in the room to match too, suggesting this is not the first time they've done somthing like this. Likewise, that Armand suggests a wallpaper by Ai WeiWei (an intensely political artist, who's art often draws attention to power dynamics, corruption, and personal freedom, and who is known for using bold patterns and saturated colours) should lead us to assume he is not actively attempting to make the penthouse devoid of colour or unprovoking in style to avoid Louis acting up. And when Armand asks Louis what they should do with the empty space, it is obviously coming from a place of being frustrated that Louis is shooting down all of his suggestions while offering none of his own, rather than the idea that he is irritated that Louis isn't just going along with what he wants, because again - They are both obviously decorating their home together.

The final sign that the penthouse's style is ultimately a compromise between Louis and Armand's style and tastes, and that Louis is an equal decider in all decorating choices, is the presence of his meditation rock garden. Using stones eerily similar to the ones he was buried alive in, Louis is effectively using the stones to represent Claudia's mantra of "We leave the damage so we never forget the damage". This is reinforced by Louis' choice to retain the stones after forcing Armand out of the penthouse, meaning that they were placed there by Louis, just as he keeps the rocks embedded in his skin. This is noteworthy, given that many have suggested that Armand created the rock garden to keep Louis in a state of fear, which would then enable Armand to better control him. This assumption was made largely due to the presence of Armand's magnolia tree and the season one, episode five quote: "Well, the interior designer hired was a sentimentalist. Some notion of hers, he was missing the natural world".

However, given that the rock garden was clearly Louis' choice (as they are still there, whereas Armand's tree is not), therefore the quote should be taken as a sign that the rock garden was entirely Louis choice - he was in a self-imposed isolation from the natural, outside world. The rocks therefore are likely meant as a physical manifestation of sorts for Louis' internalised guilt and shame over his perceived failures in life and how they have hurt the ones he loved - hence his inclusion of Paul's portrait and Claudia's dress in the space once he's began to truly deal with and take accountability over his emtions, memory, and choices - again, "We leave the damage so we never forget the damage".

TLDR: The penthouse was Louis and Armand's home, they jointly created it's look and feel equally, and pretending like it was all-Armand not only ignores what the show presented us with, but it also robs Louis of his agency and unfairly reduces him to a passive non-factor in his own story.

#amc iwtv #interview with the vampire #iwtvedit #iwtv #louis de pointe du lac #armand #loumand #iwtvedits #amc interview with the vampire #tvedit #tvedits #splashes #long post #the dubai penthouse #because ppl keep saying it's all just cold grey misery and that there's nothing of louis in there #yes at the end of s2 it's all louis and much more colourful but it's not like it was never there

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irndad · 4 months

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kiss me (under the milky twilight)- s.r.

a/n: this took so long and i'm so sorry! based on this post- reader has an ex that she keeps running back to, and spencer just wants her to see him. fake dating and hijinks ensue. VERY long. 4.6k words!! thanks to @fadingplaidtrashpatrol for ur thoughts and ideas!! masterlist // ask

The unraveling begins on a Friday.

This is one of the rare Fridays where a full weekend is staring back at them, and Spencer is immeasurably pleased at his plans. He’s rented a Russian old movie, and his best friend had agreed to sit next to him on his shitty old couch while he whispers translations in real-time.

He loves spending time with her, a little hedonistically. She’s so kind, warm in both spirit and disposition, and Spencer treasures the time he gets to spend with her. Her desk adjoins his, and so one might assume that he could tire of her presence, but there’s something a little addicting about her, something he tries to have as often as he can.

On this fine evening, she’s wearing an oversized sweater tucked into jeans- her position is mainly out of the field, and so she takes full advantage of the dress-code flexibility. Lovely earrings hang around her face, adorning her lovely features like a frame.

Spencer’s more than a little in love with her.

This has never really been a convenient fact, but Spencer’s used to wanting things he can’t have. And it was never really feasible not to want her- anyone who’s ever been in her presence would know this. It’s a foreign feeling, looking over at someone he’s lucky enough to know, and wanting them enough for that desire to turn into fantasy.

“Spencer!” She greets him warmly, standing up to do so- if this wasn’t a workplace, if she was meeting him at the cafe like they do on Wednesdays, or his home, like she often finds herself in whenever he invites her, Spencer is certain she would wrap her arms around him in an incredibly warm hug.

Because they are in the BAU, she believes it is inappropriate to embrace this way (which Spencer would argue isn’t true, given the way Morgan and Penelope are with each other, but if he told her that, it might be a little too obvious how desperate he is for her to touch him.)

The way she beams at him almost makes up for the fact that he doesn’t get to hug her.

“I got you something,” he says in lieu of a response, clutching the bag of muffins in one hand. He’d woken up early to get her to stop by her favorite bakery, and it was worth it to see that look on her face. No one’s in the office now, the day long finished, and they’re getting ready to walk to his place. He lives so close by, and he’s grateful for this fact when they walk together back to his place.

She grabs the bag, and he’s just so endeared by her, the giddy expression written over her lovely face.

“Have I mentioned that I love you? Because I do. You need to marry me, immediately.” She says to him, eyes closed in bliss, and even though she’s clearly joking, Spencer finds himself preening at her praise- wouldn’t it be incredible if she meant that? It sounds so pretty in her voice. I love you.

He beams back at her, in a way he hopes doesn’t betray how much he wants.

“I’m glad you like them,” he says back, his heart in his throat.

“I have some news that you are going to be incredibly mad at me about.” She says, and a crumb is on her painted lip, and fantasy of kisses that he cannot have enters Spencer’s mind before he can shake it away.

“I could never be mad at you.”

“I think I have to raincheck tonight,” she says almost sadly, her voice apologetic, as though she has no choice in the matter.

“Is everything okay?”

He had picked up her favorite snacks yesterday night, tidied up his apartment top to bottom.

“Josh texted me- he’s going through something and he needs me to come over-“

“He doesn’t need you to come over.”

He rarely interrupts her, and he usually isn’t capable of being upset with her. He’s not really even upset with her now, but this is so exhausting, watching her deal with this asshole.

It is a continuous surprise to Spencer that someone like her can be in a position like this.

Through Spencer’s eyes, the idea that anyone can not be in love with her is almost an impossibility. It’s not even his bias alone that makes him think this- it’s the truth of her.

Josh is an asshole finance bro who works in the city center, and Spencer hates him more than most serial killers.

He’s fucking careless with the thing Spencer wants the most in the world. Josh knows what it’s like to be with her, to be the person to falls asleep with her in his arms.

Sometimes when Spencer can’t sleep, which is quite often, he pictures her soft cheek on her chest, pictures what she would feel like entwined with his own body, legs tangled with his and her fingers in his hair. It’s a sacred thing, this image- even though it isn’t real, Spencer knows he values the imagination of her presence more than Josh gives his attention to the real thing.

They’ve “gotten together” and “broken up” and “started talking again” about 12 times respectively.

Spencer could kill him.

“Spence,” she sighs, shaking him out of his angry stupor, “please don’t be mad at me. He’s really going through something right now- he needs someone to be around. Besides,” she breathes out, “I can’t dump him.

“Why is that?” He tries to temper his tone, but the memory of her mascara running down her cheeks as she sobs in his arms shoots through his mind, and manifests as a physical sharp pain in his chest.

“That wedding is coming up,” she murmurs, looking down at her shoes. They’re scuffed, and Spencer thinks she might be embarrassed. Why should she be? He’s the asshole. “I told people I was going to have a date. Do you know how many people are going to be there, Spence? How many people are expecting me to bring my boyfriend?”

Her best friend is getting married. Spencer knows this because she’s told him, and told him gleefully when Josh had agreed to go with her. Spencer remembers thinking that he’d like to punch a wall.

Anyway.

She’s the last of her friend group that’s not in a long term relationship, and in some twisted way, he kind of gets how Josh would be better than nothing, if you didn’t want to be seen as alone.

“You don’t want to go alone.”

“Yeah, Spence.”

“I could go with you.”

It escapes his mouth without his permission, and he regrets it almost instantly. Because there’s no fucking way she’d go with him. He’s lanky and awkward and his blazers never fit and his ties are always tied wrong, and she’s beautiful and wonderful in ways he finds new ways to see everyday. He’s not a solution to her being worried about how she’s seen, he’d only make it worse-

“You would do that for me?” Her voice is small as she asks, and it shakes him out of his thoughts. He looks down at her, eyes softening at her lovely face. She looks touched, and he has to wonder, doesn’t she know?

He’d do anything for her.

“Of course,” he breathes out, a nervous hand playing with the strap of his bag, “If it gets you to stop giving that asshole the time of day, I’d do it a million times.”

Her face shifts in a way he can’t read, and she swallows.

“I can’t let you do that.”

“I want to,” he says, “Please. It would be fun, C’mon. You’re always saying I need to get out there and do things.”

“Being my fake boyfriend at my friend’s wedding is not getting out there and doing things,” she pouts, and his heart nearly jumps. It’s pathetic, but hearing her refer to him as her any kind of boyfriend is intoxicating. He wants to hear it, over and over.

“It’ll be fun,” he says, touching her hand as it rests on the table, making intentional eye contact. She has been prettiest eyes. “C’mon, let me do this for you. I’m sick of this guy.”

She gulps again, an endearingly confusing gesture, and he finds the feeling a little desperate. Pick me, choose to be with me, even if it’s just pretend.

“He’s going to be there anyway,” she breathes out biting her lip in a nervous gesture, “I- I’d owe you so much, Spence. It would make him jealous, I think.”

It’s a little hedonistic, how much he would enjoy that, he thinks. Someone would see her as his girl. He knows she might be doing this to get Josh’s attention, but still- the evening together seems like too lovely of a thing to turn down- too wonderful of a chance to not offer. He’d take a night of pretend over never getting to be with her at all.

It’s enough to make him ignore that making Josh jealous is probably the reason she’s saying yes.

“Okay, okay! Spencer, will you do me the honor of taking me to Julie’s wedding?”

“I would be honored.

The weeks approaching the wedding are a bit of sweet torture. She’d had the idea that they could practice, whatever that meant, and the memory of it lives in his mind rent free. They’d been watching the movie, already touchier than most would allow of best friends. (She’s his best, Spencer’s just the tiniest bit resentful of Julie).

She’d been sitting next to him on his worn out couch, her legs thrown across his, and true to his word, he was whispering the translation along to the movie. She smiled at him, watching his mouth move instead of the movie, and he felt tingly under her stare. How wonderful and bright it is, to be under her gaze. He kept speaking even though she wasn’t watching, because he imagines that if he stops, she might look away.

Then, she had held his hand.

Grabbed it really, fingers lacing with his own, and Spencer’s brain had short circuited. She has soft hands, he had thought to himself, and it was about the only thing he could manage to think.

“We should practice,” she had whispered, even though it was just the two of them in the lowlight of his home, “Y’know, so people believe us.”

He didn’t say that he’s pretty sure no one needed to be convinced he’s in love with her.

“Sure,” he had nodded, and squeezed her hand, “I think that’s a great idea.”

So they’ve been practicing.

This has been in equal measures wonderful and torturous. She walks with him to work on half the days, with her fingers twined with his own, and Spencer finds it intoxicating that any passerby would assume he belongs to her.

More than he already does, anyway.

Her affection is her own, just turned up to 11. She’s gorgeous- this is a fact that was not instrumental in his love of her, but ornamental- still, this is hard to ignore when she touches him as much as she does now. When she’s out with the team at the bar, she rests her hand on the small of his back- he preens every time at this. This is simple, her domesticity, her claiming his presence as her own- it’s more than nice, Spencer realizes. It’s wonderful, to be wanted by her. Even if it’s not real.

On this night, they’re celebrating. They caught the unsub before he’d been able to kill his first victim. This is a rarity in their field, and she’d given the interview that had gotten the confession. It’s the closest to field work she’d gotten, and they’re all celebrating their win. Her win.

She looks like a figment of imagination, lovely in a way he literally cannot believe he didn’t conjure up in fantasy. Her favorite song is playing out of pure serendipity, and Spencer likes that word for her. She is serendipitous as a whole.

“Do you want something to drink, honey?” The endearment feels warm and natural as it comes out of his mouth. His hand is resting on the small of her waist, and he knows he’s being egregious with the practice thing. But this is so nice, her leaning into him, one drink deep and touchier than she is tipsy, and he loves this. He loves that under this pretense, he gets to know what she feels like in his arms.

He hands her the water before she gets to answer, and she happily sips it.

“Are you proud of me, Spence?” Her voice is immeasurably fond and he drinks it in like a man starved.

“Of course,” he smiles at her. I’m always proud of you, he thinks. “You did so well, love.”

He’s not used to endearments, but she showers him in them. Before their little pretending, too. Called him dove, honey, darling. Packed an emergency lunch in his go bag in case he forgot his. She’s such a good friend, and he wants to be her lover more with each breath.

He tries to return them, now.

“Good,” she says serenely, looking at him in a way that kills him, because he will never, ever kiss her. She can hold him, and look at him like that, and he will never get to be with her, “I think my cider is too sour,” she scrunches her nose, and his heart swoops.

“I’ll get you something sweeter, baby.”

“Yeah you will!” He hears Morgan laugh, and he flushes bright red. No one seems surprised, by how touchy they’d been. Even Hotch- he’d expected a talk, but then got a stern nod of understanding in its stead.

She sips the sweet drink he got her, a little cherry on the step, and he thinks he’d do anything to keep looking at her.

Five weeks to the wedding.

He can do this.

“Could you do me a favor, Garcia? I come bearing gifts.”

Spencer’s snuck into her office- there’s not much to do today, but she hadn’t wanted to take PTO for no reason, so here she is, in her feathered and pink glory.

“Is that a hot chocolate? From Dominicks? Ooh, you play dirty, Dr. Reid.” Penelope almost squeals, and despite his nefarious purposes, he finds himself joyful- it’s alwaysgood to talk to her.

After a joyful, eyes closed and serene sip, she asks, “Alright, my sweet furry friend, what can I do for you?”

“Could you check on a Josh Collins for me?”

“Isn’t that your girl’s ex?”

“No,” Heat rises to his cheeks, before he can help it. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Oh, and my favorite color is black.” Penelope scoffs back, but begins typing furiously anyway.

He needs to know what is so fascinating about this guy. Because lately he can’t figure it out. He’s always fucking hated the guy, even though he’s never met him. He never had to- she’d shown up enough times at Spencer’s door crying, been broken up with and brought back enough to know that this guy is awful. Doesn’t even come close to deserving the woman that she is.

“He’s a financial analyst at a Marketing firm, went to state school for his Bachelor’s, says here that he played football in college, but I don’t think they met until after,” she says, “Oh, he has a scuba license. And skydiving! Looks like he’s a bit of an adrenaline junkie.”

It’s an evil thought. Is that what she likes? He finds it hard to imagine, picturing the moments where she’s wrapped up in his arms on a movie night- that always seemed to be her preference. In, not out.

“Is that him?”

There’s a picture of him on Penelope’s screen. Josh is chiseled and strong, smiling brightly in a polo on a jet ski- this is a photo posted on his social media, and Spencer has met a million of this guy. They bullied him in school. Spencer as genius and he’s a lot of things, but that will never be one of them. It’ll never, ever be him.

Good to know, anyway. Better not to fantasize about what he knows he can’t have.

On the day of the wedding, it’s actually a 6 hour drive. She’d offered to get them plane tickets, but he enjoyed his time with her. He was also desperate to extend the time until the wedding was over, and she’s probably the only person he wants to be trapped in a car with.

They’re sharing a hotel room. She’s booked two beds, which he’s honestly grateful for- if they’d shared a bed, he might’ve combusted.

Still, there is so much intimacy. She sings in the shower. He imagines a world where he’d know that in domesticity, where after a night spent in laughter and something like love, she showered in his home. But that’s not how he knows it. He knows it because he’s at her best friend’s wedding, pretending to be her boyfriend.

When she comes out of her bedroom, she’s gorgeous.

She’s got a green and purple dress on, a cinched waist and a sweetheart neck, a dash of plum lipstick on her lovely pout, and he’d like to kiss that smile very, very much. She’s a delicate kind of lovely, saturated in sweetness, and it’s sweet torture to have her this close.

“You look...” He struggles to find words, an uncommon occurrence in his life, “Like a vision.”

It’s sentimental and warmer than he wished he sounded, but god- she’s stunning. She looks like she’s made of old film, beautiful in that way that’s just a bit too good to be true. He adores her more with each breath.

“You think it’s okay?” She speaks to him with her doe eyes adorned with a concerned expression. He wants to kiss it away.

“You look lovely,” he says, a vast underselling.

The ceremony is a lovely affair, and Spencer learns that she cries at weddings. The bride and groom have lovely, saccharine vows, and Spencer tries not to picture a wedding that he will never get to have.

It’s a little bit impossible with her at his side.

She’s touchier now, even mores then when they were ‘practicing’. Her hands are warm laced with his own, her head leaning on his shoulder, and he feels lucky to have even a piece of getting to be with her.

At the reception, she is tackled by her friends, and he performs dutifully as the caring boyfriend. It’s not hard.

It’s a lovely night. His arms glued to the small of her waist, and he’s been introduced as her “genius FBI agent boyfriend” many times tonight. He turns bright red every time.

“This is my boyfriend, he’s the smartest ever,” she brags when she’s half a drink deep, and he cherishes the ability to draw circles on the small of her back in this moment- his words fail him in moments of praise, and touch is an avenue that he is rarely allowed to use.

“I don’t believe that intelligence can be accurately quantified-“

“Which is a thing that humble geniuses say.”

So he’s having a great tine.

Her lipstick is transfer-free, and his cheek is proof. She’s so affectionate his heart keeps doing somersaults. There’s a signature cocktail with some pun in the couples name.

“I’m fucking obsessed with these, Spence,” she says, a light airiness to her voice that he recognizes as her tipsy voice, “Can you get me another, my love?”

“Yes, honey.” He smiles at her, and kisses the crown of her hair before leaving her in the company of her friends. He’s indulging a bit too much, he’s aware. He’s going to have to give up this up when the sun rises, like some fucked up fairytale where Cinderella never gets the guy because she’s not worthy of it without the pretense.

“Could I get the house cocktail?” Spencer asks the bartender, flashing a smile at her with the giddiness of knowing he will return to her.

Spencer had nearly forgotten that part of the reason he was here was because of Josh.

Who is at the bar.

“Hey man- you’re the dude she brought, right?”

Josh is actually about 2 inches shorter than Spencer, and Spencer makes the most of this difference. He’s a broad chested muscle man, but he looks woefully underwhelming.

“Yeah, I’m the lucky guy.” Spencer replies in a deadpan tone, turning to face him with a stony expression.

“Careful, man,” Josh says, and it’s a little pathetic how he’s trying to pretend he doesn’t care, “She’ll chew you up and spit you out.”

“Really? Because it seems like you’d leave a bad taste in anyone’s mouth.”

“Whatever, dude. It’s clear that she just brought someone to make me jealous.”

“Actually, while I can’t read her mind, I imagine you’ve slipped hers entirely. Clearly your entire energy is based in whatever ego-driven shell your youth has shaped you into- and maybe one day someone will care enough about whatever tragedy made you the way you are, but I am deeply uninterested, and I’d wager she is too.”

He’s not sure if this is true, but Spencer’s noticed that in the time since their ruse has begun she hasn’t mentioned Josh. Not once. She might not love Spencer, but she might not see Josh anymore.

“Also, if you ever speak disrespectfully of my girlfriend again I promise you it will not end well for you.”

His voice is even and has an underlaying of quiet rage. It’s wonderful to call her that, even more so as she enters into his eye line.

“You looked mad,” she says in lieu of a greeting, her nimble arms wrapping around his waist with fluid ease, “Is everything okay?”

It’s only then she sees Josh, and there’s something wonderful about knowing that she came here to check on him. Josh is about to say something, he can tell even though he’s only visible in the corner of his vision.

It’s a calculated risk but he chooses to do it anyway.

When he kisses her, he doesn’t know what to expect. It falls into line like puzzles into place, one of her hands falling to his waist and the other cradling his jaw with a delicate softness. She leans into him totally and this is an intoxicating feeling- her lips are so, so soft and it’s what he’s been fantasizing about since she first smiled at him and asked him to keep going when he was rambling about Russian literature.

It’s actually better.

When she pulls back, she scans the space. Josh is gone.

“Well that had the intended effect,” he says- it seems better than anything else, like confessing that the only reason he did it was that he could. He kissed her.

She nods, clearly a bit frazzled, and fuck-

“I should have asked, fuck, I’m sorry-“

“No, no, you’re okay, um-thanks for getting rid of him.”

Her voice is hollow.

Despite the awkwardness of the kiss, which Spencer cannot stop thinking about.

Did he imagine it, or did she lean in? Did she sigh into it? How is he going to ever get over the fact that he’s never going to do that again?

Her lipstick is grape flavored. Now they both know that.

They get back to the hotel at half past midnight, and she’d been a little distanced- not so much they still didn’t look like a couple, but enough that Spencer knows. They’re winding down the artificial love affair, and all of the things he’s become kind of addicted to are going to go away. Her fingers running through the tendrils of his hair, her delicate fingers rubbing tiger balm on his temples when he’s got his migraines. Her cheek kisses, the honeys, my loves, sweethearts.

Kissing her.

When she drops her bag on the hotel bed and sits on the edge of it, he sits next to her. She’s been quieter, since the kiss.

“Hey.”

“Hey back,” she replies, bumping her knee with his in fondness.

“I’m sorry I surprised you with, you know.”

“Kissing me?”

“I should have asked- I’m sorry.”

“I’m not upset that you kissed me,” she says, looking down at her shoes, “I’m upset that you only did it because you wanted to spite Josh.”

“What?”

“I know that this is my problem, Spence,” she says, “You never… led me on, you know? I know that this was always my thing to deal with. Being in love with you was never something that I thought would be a problem. But when you offered to go with me- to pretend to be my boyfriend, how could I pass that up?”

This makes no sense.

“I know,” she runs her fingers through her hair in a frustrated motion, “I know that it was never a good idea. But the idea of getting to be with you was just too much to turn down, even it it wasn’t the real thing. And now we’re going back to normal and I promise that I will go back to being your friend. It might take me a second, though-I might need some space.”

She needs space from him? Because she can’t transition away from being his fake girlfriend?

“You don’t need space from me.”

He’s so fucking bad at talking.

“Spencer-“

“No, no,” because now he has a shot- now there’s a reality where the pit in his chest doesn’t have to live there forever. He can be with her. Because for some crazy, insane reason, she wants him. “You don’t need space from because I don’t want space from you, okay?”

He sits next to her on the bed, eyes a little crazed with want with nowhere to go.

“I’m not sure what you mean.” Her voice is tempered, and he thinks he hears hope.

“I love you. I am in love with you. I’ve been in love with you as long as I’ve known you,” he grabs her hand-it feels desperate to say and he sure he sounds it, “I didn’t kiss you because I wanted to spite him. I did it because I couldn’t live with the idea that I would spend the rest of my life never have kissed you.”

He probably would say more- so many things are coming to mind, most of which are pleading. She’s the only thing he’s ever wanted this much. Before he gets to, though, she kisses him.

It’s sudden, as all things of this nature are, but he pulls her close on instinct. She ends up on his lap, her hands around his neck, and it is so rare that fantasy lives up to reality. But this is better, the feeling of the weight of her pressed against him and the taste of her grape lipstick.

It’s a minute when she pulls back, and it takes everything to not chase the contact.

“I love you too,” she says, the sweetness of it dripping from the sound of it. He wants to hear it again, and again, and again.

“For real?”

“For real.”

When the run rises in the morning that follows, he’s wrapped around the length of her like a vice, right and close to him, Her head rests on his chest, and while there is another bed there, it’s clearly not seeing any use.

He’s never slept better in his life.

#spencer reid #spencer Reid fluff #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #criminal minds #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x you #spencer reid x y/n #criminal minds fanfic

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dcxdpdabbles · 6 months

Text

DC xDP fanfic idea: One hell of a good Bellhop

Danny and Jazz Fenton get a chance of a lifetime after a whirlwind of dimension displacement. It's hard to explain how it happened. One minute, they were visiting Clockwork, having tea with their surrogate grandfather, and the next, they were being attacked by what appeared to be woolly mammoths standing on two legs and carrying weapons.

Clockwork had dispatch to take them head on- timeline pests he called them- but in the confusion Danny and Jazz were taken by suprised, stuffed into sacks and thrown through a whirlpool turned portal that spit them out in a new world.

They tried to call Clockwork for help, but it was as if though the Ghost Zone was blocked by some power. Danny at least still had his ghost powers and Jazz was equipped with the standard Fenton weapons on her person, but that wasn't much help when between the two of them they had sixty dollars and thirty four cents to their names.

Drivers' invalid licenses, phones that weren't connected to any service, and maybe worse of all, no actual identity to speak of.

The Fentons simply didn't exist in this world. Not even their four fathers. The two were at a loss on what to do- for about three months. Then they put their Fenton intelligence to use and hacked into a hotel.

It was a run-down place in the heart of downtown Gotham- the place that the portal shot them to was Metropolis. Still, people paid way too much attention to homeless minors there, so they had to move after dodging a weird underwear guy who kept trying to capture Danny. Apparently, he thought Danny was a "Kryptonian Clone". Fruitloop.

Jazz thought they were the only guests in the Hotel, which is why the owner was so happy to host them for weeks instead of a few days. He was a sweet old man named Charles who was far too old to work but couldn't afford the staff, so he did everything himself.

Jazz felt an awful pity seeing him sit at his counter, staring hopefully at the door for any new guests whenever she returned from her work. It was heartbreaking to see Charles' eyes dim whenever the closing time came, and once again, no one stopped by. At this point, he kept the hotel open in a sad, broken dream.

Where did she work? Danny didn't know, but Jazz made him swear she would handle their expenses. She kept a tight lip on her day, and since Danny had no documentation to go to school with, he found himself helping Charles with maintenance.

He has no license to do anything, but Danny has been installing electricity, water pipes, and anything in between since he was young. FentonWorks always needed something fixed, after all.

He even went out and "borrowed" some paint cans to give the old place a little touch-up. Charles' eyes watered when he saw.

"My wife and I meet at this hotel, you know," Charles tells him one day as Danny patches up some old bricks. He runs to find the old man, gently running his hand along the fireplace. A picture of two young people dancing in the Hotel Lobby—back when it was new and shiny—is hanging right over it. It's easy to see it's Charles and his late wife, Sally.

"Of course, that was back in the forties—a few years after the war and before Gotham was crime-infested. We always wanted to run this place together. We worked two jobs, and when we finally had enough, we bought it from the old owners when they announced they were closing down. We were so happy and ran it together for a year, but then she got sick. Really sick. I was told to give up on the Hotel when I lost her. No one saw a reason when it was obviously failing, but it's the last thing I have of her, you know?"

Danny's lips wobble. He thinks back to hours and hours of tracing the Fenton Works logo on all his new clothes. It looks stupid but, gosh its the last thing he has of his parents since they been sepreated too.

"Yeah" His voice catches "Yeah I know. Did you two ever have children?"

Charles shakes his head. "Salley couldn't have kids, and no matter how many times we applied, we were never approved for adoption. Then we were too old."

"I'm sorry Charles"

"That's alright, my boy." The man's smile is just as heartbreaking and sad as it is soft. "It's something I accepted long ago. "

Danny decided then and there that he would save this hotel if it was the last thing he did. Danny wasn't aware that his Ghost Powers launched onto that oath and sent out a flair, turning Gotham's Fog Lodge into his new haunt.

This meant that overnight, Danny's haunt was carefully bettering itself as a reflection of Danny's happiness. It made it look brand new among all the old and falling apart scenery.

No one knew why or how, but it looked just as Charles remembered it in the glory days.

Danny decided they couldn't compete with large chain hotels, so he made it an experience instead. He did Era events using his experience with the different parts of the Ghost Zone as references.

Soon Gotham was hearing of the Victorian Era Ball—a chance to dress up and dance the old ways with antique clothing of that period.

But Danny didn't stop there.

Disco parties. Nineties garage bands. Murder mysteries nights from the roaring twenties. Even the props were so realistic that people swore they stepped into the time from when arriving for their events.

People started calling, hoping to book in advance, and Charles burst into tears the first night Danny told them they ran out of rooms.

Since it was Danny's haunt, he could complete all the work by himself, having the hotel help him along the way. No one knew why or how, but somehow it was always clean, food was always prepared whenever someone needed it, and bags would be up into their rooms without actually seeing the Bellhop pass getting them at the door.

Not a single staff member in sight, either.

Charles suspected Danny was meta, and he was using his powers to be one hell of a good host. Everyone else thought the place was haunted by staff made entirly of ghosts, and that somehow made it more appealing.

Jazz's new boss thought it a little too good to be accurate, but he was so good at keeping records and organizing that he gave her the benefit of the doubt. After all, she did mention she had a meta brother she was desperately trying to protect.

If there was one thing Red Hood knew, it was that desperate people turned to crime the most. If he could keep someone like Jazz Fenton away from working with the nutjobs of Gotham, he would have been doing one thing better for the city.

As far as Jazz was aware, she was only an assistant/secretary to an obvious front masquerading as an insurance company, and if she pretended not to notice all the crime, she could feed Danny and help Charles.

Charles, for his part, never said it, but he thinks if he and Sally had been able to have grandchildren, they would have been exactly like Jazz and Danny.

He may have let it be implied at one point, and the misunderstanding spreads that he is their grandfather. None of the three make haste to correct it.

Gotham Fog Lodge starts to gain traction around the same time it captures the eye of one very intrigued billionaire. Bruce Wayne keeps an eye on the business but decided to let Jason make the call since the grandduaghter's owner works for him. '

Surely, he would step in if something malicious was going on.

#dcxdpdabbles #dcxdp crossover #One hell of a good bellhop #Part 1 #The Fenton kids find questionable employement #Charles is ther emotional support grandpa #Danny is vibing in his new haunt #The bats are watching #always watching #Pre-Anger Management

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mischievousmoony · 1 month

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hi, ok i have another idea for a fic which again totally up to you to write!! but i had an idea with dad!james and r where their kid is like equally obsessed with their mum as james is with r and one day james decides to prank their kid by saying something bad about the r while their kid is present and the baby just goes off. i feel like you would do an amazing job with this! feel free to ignore too. have a perfectly splendid day!!

-🪷

"the baby just goes off" painted a hilarious picture of an infant yelling at his dad in my mind lmao. ty for the request this warmed my heart to write + special thanks to @moonpascal for chatting a little about kids, gave me the reassurance & inspiration i needed

𝚋𝚞𝚒𝚕𝚍𝚒𝚗𝚐 𝚋𝚕𝚘𝚌𝚔𝚜

⟢ dad!james potter x fem!reader ⊹ 1.1k ⟢ warnings/tags: fluff, dad/husband!james, mom/wife!reader, no use of y/n, no name for the son, idk how to write a child's dialogue tbh son's supposed to sound 4 years old

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

James gladly goes out of his way to mention to anyone who will listen that his little one is unmistakably a Mummy's boy. From family to friends to the poor souls who bag his groceries, James will talk the ear off of anyone he can.

He finds it to be the most endearing thing in the world— the way that your son is as obsessed with you as James is. Always staying close and clinging to you, touching affection radiating from every hug and smile.

Today, as he watches his son run back and forth across the carpet, handing his mother block after block just to see her face light up after each gift, his awe and admiration are insurmountable.

Last night, James surprised you with a pair of earrings that you have been wishing for. When your face lit up upon receiving the little leatherette box, so did your son's. He didn't quite understand why you were so excited about some cube, but since then he's been trying to replicate your excitement with presents of his own.

"Oh my! Another one! Thank you, buddy," you beam, you're gratefulness and delight unwavering as he hands you the sixth block.

Your son giggles, bouncing in his spot as you inspect each side of the little wooden toy, telling him how much you adore the blue penguin painted on one of its faces.

That's another thing that touches James' heart: the tender nurture and care that you bestow upon your son with such unwavering devotion and warmth. It has James convinced that you must be the best mum in the entire world.

He might just melt at the sight of you now, kneeling happily in front of a growing pile of blocks as your son scurries back and forth, adding to your collection. James sits cross-legged to your right, resting his elbow on his knee and laying his head in his hand, watching the two he loves most in the world with hearts in his eyes.

You gasp, as if surprised when handed block number seven. "Oh, this is my favorite one yet. How did you know I love zebras?" you ask, your thumb tracing over the red acrylic paint on the side of the block.

By the time you have twelve, nearly half of his collection, you say, "I have a lot of blocks here, buddy, do you want to give some to Daddy?"

"No!" your son protests immediately, running off to his toy box for the thirteenth time.

You and James both chuckle, exchanging amused glances. Finding your son's reaction hilarious, James’s mischievous side has him dreaming up new ways to push his buttons. Your son thinks the world of you, and James is curious to see what the little guy will do if he claims otherwise.

"Well, what am I gonna do with all of this? Should I..."

You leave your son in suspense for a moment, and his hands hover over his toy box as looks at you, hanging onto your every word in anticipation.

"...build a castle!?"

“Yeah!” your son cheers, scooping three more blocks into his arms, thrilled to supply the bricks for your castle.

James nudges you, a sign of his upcoming playfulness. “You sure about that, bud? Mummy is absolutely rotten at building castles.”

Halfway across the carpet, your son stops in his tracks, glaring at his father as he tries to keep his blocks from falling out of his arms.

Stifling a laugh, you press your fingertips to your lips. By now, you’re used to James’ bursts of mischief, and you’re more than happy to sit back and let them play out. Unless you’re an active participant, of course.

You muster up a scandalized gasp as he reaches for your mountain of presents, claiming three blocks in one hand.

“No!” your little one complains, rushing to drop his three in your lap to replace the ones that James stole, “those are Mummy’s!”

“You sure Mummy deserves all these blocks?” James asks, starting to stack them into a tower, “You watch, I’ll build a castle that’ll make her’s look like rubbish.”

Your son hastily makes his way over to his dad, both arms extended as he collides with the tower and sends the blocks flying. "Stop it," he says as he scoops up the nearest block and runs it back over to you, shouting, "Mummy's castles are the best!"

He climbs into your lap, clutching onto the toy tightly as one of your arms wraps around him, and you feel your heart start to melt as you rub soothing circles into his back. You look over your son's head, your eyes sparkling with affection as you meet your husband's tender gaze.

Not having the heart to mess with him for very long, James concedes, "You're right, I'm not being very nice, am I?"

"Nuh-uh!" your son replies, shaking his head with exaggeratedly vigor, the curls he gets from his dad bouncing about.

"What can I do to make it up to her?" James asks, turning the ordeal into a subtle lesson as he dramatically feigns sorrow and despair over his actions.

"'Pologize," your son commands, his head swiveling to look at James expectantly over his shoulder.

James puts on his most sheepish, apologetic smile, looking from his son to you. "I'm very sorry. He's right, your castles are the best. Can you forgive me, love?"

"Aw, of course I forgive you," you say warmly, your amusement manifesting as a wide smile. You lean back so you can get a good view of your son's face when you tell him, "You know, I bet what Daddy really wants is to build a castle with us. I love your presents, bud, but we don't want to leave Daddy out do we?"

He looks down at the block in his little hand. "No," he replies shyly.

"So why don't you ask him to build a castle with us?" You give him a pat on the back before releasing him from your arms. "Go on," you coax.

He steps closer to James, holding the block close to his chest. "We can all build a castle," he offers.

"Yeah?" James' face lights up, and it's not for show. Genuine joy takes over his features as he ruffles your son's hair, responding, "I'd love nothing more, little man."

"But you have to be nice to Mummy!" he demands, his little voice firm and earnest as he looks up at James with wide, serious eyes.

"I promise, I will be on my best behavior," James assures him, his voice sincere as he gives a playful salute. That's enough for your son, because he finally awards James with his very first block, which he accepts with pride.

"Good!" your son cheers, already moving on to the pile of blocks to start stacking them as he proclaims, "Mummy is the best, and we have to show it!"

Your lips part as you suck in a breath, a quiet gasp. Receiving your son's affection never fails to make your heart swell.

You don't feel James' eyes on you, but he's watching— admiring, more like, as he takes in the way that you soften at your son's sweet words. A smitten smile plays at his lips as he agrees, "She is the best, isn't she?"

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

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jeongin-lvr · 6 months

Text

ᵎ　🍶　⊹ stay on the call, h. hyunjin

꒰ 🗯️ ꒱ 𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗌𝖾𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗏𝖾 𝖻𝖿! 𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇，featuring seungmin，𝖾𝗑𝗁𝗂𝖻𝗂𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝗂𝗌𝗆，𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 + 𝖿𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝖾𝗍 𝗇𝖺𝗆𝖾𝗌 (𝖻𝖺𝖻𝗒, babe, darling, princess)，𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗃𝗂𝗇 𝗂𝗌 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝖽𝖺 𝗆𝖾𝖺𝗇，𝖺 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 + 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖺𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇，𝗂𝗆𝗉𝗅𝗂𝖾𝖽 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇．PARTIALLY EDITED.

[ 𝟤．𝟨𝗄 𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌 ] ☆ [ 𝖽𝗈 𝗇𝗈𝗍 𝗋𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍 ] ☆ [ 𝗆．𝗅𝗂𝗌𝗍 ]

HYUNJIN wasn't the type to get pissed about the little things. He wouldn't care if you accidentally broke one of his favorite mugs or forgot to wipe the counter after brushing you teeth. He wouldn't mind when you were ten minutes late to dates he specifically said would start at 3:00. Hyunjin barely ever raised his voice; the soft spoken boy took his time with you. However, he was the type to get pissed if another man even so much as glanced at you.

He would never admit it out loud but it triggered something almost primal inside of him. And while you almost never noticed it, when you did it was entirely too obvious not to.

He had this demeanor about him when he was jealous. His face would drop and stay that way; his once vibrantly painted irises a shade of black like the charcoal he drew with. Hyunjin's complexion was paler than usual and his eyes almost always were trained between you and whoever was triggering such an audacious reaction. He wasn't proud of it— but even he knew it was true.

Hyunjin is a jealous, jealous man.

So, naturally, when he came home after a long day of work, all he wanted to do was to find you and have his way with your gorgeous body. Hyunjin's had a week, to say the least. Comeback preparations were daunting enough on their own. Days spent between the studio and the dance room, running the stages over and over again until the choreography was drilled into his brain. His throat was tired and so were his legs. Not to even mention the stress he felt. All he needed was his pretty baby who always let him do whatever he wanted. You were obedient and simple like that.

He imagined all the things he'd do; the things he'd whisper against your skin to melt you. How he'd pluck apart your steady persona until you were nothing but a whining, withering mess of nothing for him to play with. Hyunjin reveled in the idea of it. He's seen it a thousand times before yet it always got him going. He lived and, quite frankly, needed that from you right now.

"Seungmin, why're you calling?" Your voice echoed through the cracked door of your shared bedroom. The air suddenly stilled and Hyunjin paused all movements, subconsciously holding his breath. As soon as he heard his members name he was already growing red in the cheeks. What were you doing calling him? What did he want? So many questions raced across his mind at speeds even he couldn't understand. Hyunjin crept through the doorway, seeing that you faced away from him, making an irritated expression at whatever it was that Seungmin was saying to you.

"Really?" You asked again. Hyunjin decided to lean on the doorframe, crossing his arm and resting his jaw. His eyes were steady as he studied your frame, and his heart was thumping like footsteps on cold pavement.

"Oh, you're funny," Your voice was sarcastic as a small smile spread over your full lips, "Why did you really call, dumbass?"

Hyunjin almost laughed at the nickname, composing himself only once he heard you begin to speak again.

"Okay then I'm hanging up," You responded dryly to whatever he said, "What do you mean no? Hyunjin's gonna be home soon I want to see him—"

Hyunjin was beaming at that. He couldn't hear what Seungmin was saying to you but he did gauge your expression. Your eyes soft and your pretty lips in a gorgeous smile as you said his name. Oh, it was addicting to hear.

"You're an idiot, Seung." Hyunjin gritted his teeth. The nickname didn't suit Seungmin at all— in fact he thought Seungmin was a fine name. Hearing you call another man anything but their full name was enough to piss Hyunjin off. Your boyfriend stood seething in the door now, narrowing his eyes at your back, imaging what he wished he was doing right now.

Thinking of a way to wipe that stupid smile off your face; get you all to himself and push the limits of what he thought he was capable of.

His mind flew to your small hand clutching the phone to your ear, your plush thighs bursting out of your house shorts, then your cute tummy and the way your belly button peaked out the bottom of your shirt. Hyunjin's mind was a flood of nasty thoughts; his lips turning upward in a nasty, plotting smile.

"No way... you did not say that to him—" You gasped at the phone, laughing like Seungmin was the funniest man you knew. He wasn't. Hyunjin knew that for a fact. It didn't matter if that was one of his closest friends, someone he trusted like a brother. In this moment all he saw, all he heard was competition, "Seungmin, you're lucky you're still alive after that, god." You laughed again, airily as your fingers trailed along a crease in the bedsheets.

Hyunjin scoffed and began to walk forward; his eyes blinded by an angry red. He swore you were doing this on purpose. Wanting to piss him off. Wanting to make him lose it.

You didn't notice how his knee dipped into the bed, his strong arm reaching toward your body. You jumped at his touch, eyes wide before faltering into soft wells of honey at him. The man you've been longing for all day was right there. His eyes were stern and so were his lips, pressed thin like he was scolding you without saying a single word. You scrunched your eyebrows together, your phone still glued to your ear. Hyunjin blinked between you and the phone, pressing a finger to his lips, telling you in the absence of words to stay quiet.

You tilted you head, obeying despite the confusion. Seungmin was still rambling into your ear, his voice sounding more and more like white noise the more your focus turned to your boyfriend. Hyunjin, on the other hand, was slowly pushing you backward into the bed, his hand on the dip of your stomach, pushing you as low as possible until there was no room to go.

Your eyes studied his movements and his sunk down to your clothed core; fingertips lightly grazing over the soft plush of your thigh. You were silent, biting back questions that you would've asked if Seungmin wasn't on the other line. Hyunjin smirked against your skin already knowing you were frustrated. He could see it in your stare, he could see how you bit your lip and tightly held your phone to your ear. Hyunjin could just barely make out the sound of Seungmin's quick talking on the other side of the line, and clearly he hadn't noticed your silence.

"Keep quiet for me, love," Hyunjin whispered dangerously close to your core, lips brushing against the fabric and simultaneously against your clit. His hands were wandering on every bit of skin they could find; lingering touches and invisible marks that only you'd know of. You had to nod— it wasn't an option.

"Y/N." Seungmin's voice suddenly blew through your ear, loud enough to make you jump against the sheets.

Hyunjin chuckled as he watched you, his big hands pushing your legs up to rest on his broad shoulders. You let out a low hum that could've been mistaken for a response to Seungmin, whispering a small curse as Hyunjin's tongue flattened against your covered pussy.

"I asked if you were listening..." Seungmin reiterated, clearly a little annoyed by your lack of enthusiasm for whatever he had to say. You could have just reached up and hung up without another word, explain it to him later, make up an excuse and dip. But with the way Hyunjin was staring at you, you knew it wasn't an option.

Your boyfriend wanted you like this and, truthfully, it was driving you insane by the second.

"Clearly you're not," Seungmin laughed dryly.

"Ah, no, Seungmin, I am," You were quick to respond as Hyunjin pinched your inner thigh. His fingers pushing the hem of your shorts down, "Just got a bit, um, distracted."

Hyunjin chuckled at this, sliding your pajama shorts down to your ankles and taking in the sight of your panties clinging to your sex, wet with your growing arousal. He blinked up at you, clearly amused by this, to which you shook your head in embarrassment and turned away.

"Distracted?" Hyunjin mumbled as his fingers lightly pressed against your clit, enjoying how you jumped and clasped your thighs against the side of his head, "Put him on speaker, baby.

You obeyed with wobbling hands; Hyunjin grinning as he watched you do so. All the while his fingertips traced hearts into your sensitive clit, pressing occasional kisses against it.

"Tell me again, Seung," You responded quickly, finally getting yourself together. You stared at Hyunjin, then back at the ceiling, the prolonged eye contact making you fizzier than usual, "I-I'm listening."

"Okay..." Seungmin said slowly, audibly confused but continuing otherwise, "Well, I was just saying that I lost my AirPods and I think they might be at Hyunjin's place... and—"

At that point you already tuned him out, placing the phone down beside your head to grab onto Hyunjin's hair. His face was inches— no — centimeters from your cunt, breath hot as it fanned over your body. His fingers dipped into the top of your panties as he played with you underneath the thin material. You mustered up the courage to let out a small whine, barely even audible but Hyunjin still pressed a finger to his lips, grinning like it was the funniest thing in the world. You bit your lip with a slow nod, his finger pushing against the slick of your pussy and rubbing circles into your aching clit.

"I saw this new Chinese place across the street from the company too," Seungmin said, reminding himself as he searched his mind, "I think we should go sometime because they had these, like— I don't know, wonton looking things. I already took the boys—"

Hyunjin looked up at you with his cheek pressing into your thigh, waiting for you to respond as your fingers raked through his messy, dyed hair.

You didn't respond though, too focused on one thing to even bother with a response. Hyunjin rolled his eyes and let his teeth graze your inner thigh, biting into the supple flesh to get your attention.

"You're being rude, sweetheart." His words were shallow and quiet, his training hard on your face. Hyunjin was so cruel for this— and all at once he was heaven-sent.

Complex emotions filled your tummy as you picked up the phone from beside you, shaky hand raising to your ear.

"Sounds g-good, Seung," You hesitated again, "When do you, um, want to go?" Seungmin's sharp breath caught your ear, silence along the other line until he clicked his tongue.

"Are you sure you're okay? You sound shaky?" Seungmin, while clueless, was concerned. His eyebrows raising and lip captured between his teeth. Hyunjin chuckled as he slyly slid your panties down, tongue lapping at your clit with slow, daunting movements. You felt every caliber of his intent. Your toes curling as your hand faltered, almost falling beside your head yet again.

"I'm fine! I promise," Your Voice was louder now as Hyunjin circled your clit, tongue slowly falling to pick at your hole. Slowly his spit began to mix with your slick, the flavor intoxicating, "We should go— go to that restaurant soon, if y-you're down."

Seungmin took a short pause before answering, "Totally. Is Hyunjin home yet?"

Your hand raised to your mouth as the very man in question wrapped his lips around your clit and have it a harsh suck, "No! He's on his way, I think."

"Right," Seungmin gave a short response.

Your eyes squeezed shut, the absence of your vision gave time for stars to flash before your eyes. Your mind slowly began to slip as you lost yours on Hyunjin's skilled tongue. Meanwhile, Hyunjin was taking his time watching your unravel; waiting for the perfect moment to let you cum. He was slow and so meticulous, calculated movements of his twitching tongue.

"Don't stop talking," Hyunjin mumbled against your folds, practically making out with your pussy now.

You were already exhausted, tiny exasperated sighs left your lips every now and then. Hyunjin couldn’t help the smile blooming across his lips; you were just absolutely adorable to him right now. He could tell Seungmin was growing weary, the thought of him somehow catching on to what was happening through the screen shouldn’t have made him as cheerful as it did. But each time he caught the nervous shake in Seungmin’s voice he wanted to laugh. And every time you stifled your own moans Hyunjin wished you hadn’t.

No, Hyunjin definitely wasn’t jealous. But he sure as hell was possessive, and knowing that Seungmin even had the slightest chance of knowing what the two of you were doing, knowing he could never get a taste, a chance, or even a glance at it, that made Hyunjin giddy.

“Keep fucking talking, baby,” Hyunjin moaned against your pussy, not shy about smothering himself with your essence, “You have three seconds or I’m taking the phone.”

Hyunjin watched you, expecting you to grab the phone, to continue talking, to say absolutely anything. But you didn’t. Your eyes rolled back as his fingers got back to work; diligently curling inside of you, hitting that gooey spot.

“One…” Hyunjin watched behind his eyelashes, licking a stripe up your folds. Seungmin’s voice echoed from the call, your name chanting over and over in a question. “Y/N, are you there?” Hyunjin wanted to laugh, “Two…” you would’ve cared— you definitely should’ve cared. Your moans only grew in volume as Hyunjin played with you to his delight. You were sure that now Seungmin could hear you. It was shameful. But you couldn’t bring yourself to care. Not even a little bit. “Three.” Hyunjin clicked his tongue, slipping his fingers out and using his free hand to grab your phone from your dropping, shaking hand.

He placed it to his mouth, lips an inch from the speaker as he began, “Sorry, Seungmin, she’s being so rude right now, isn’t she?”

Seungmin stuttered for a second, “Hyunjin? What—?”

Your chest heaved as Hyunjin snickered, shaking his head as his eyes met yours. Seungmin knew, he wasn’t fucking stupid. Hyunjin brought his pointer finger to your clit and rubbed it so tediously, so slow. It brought tears to your eyes.

“She’s busy,” Hyunjin explained, “I’m sure you knew that already,” Seungmin let out a shaky breath, “You could stay on the phone or hang the fuck up if you want, I don’t really care,” Hyunjin brought the phone to your lips again, “Say something, princess.”

You opened your mouth, jaw widening as Hyunjin pressed harder into you, pinching your clit now, drawing out those melodic sounds he loved. Seungmin probably loved them too.

“M’ sorry, Seung— oh!” You gripped the pillow beside your head, “Can— can we call later?”

Seungmin was silent but over the sound of your own heartbeat, you could hear his soft groans and sharp breaths.

“Oh, baby, I think he wants to stay,” Hyunjin sneered, kissing your inner thigh as he set the phone down, “Let’s let him enjoy himself, yeah?”

You meekly nodded, slowly edging closer to your orgasm as you mumbled an okay while Seungmin let out a wobbly yes.

#feat. hyunjin .ᐟ #feat. seungmin .ᐟ #hyunjin smut #skz smut #stray kids smut #hwang hyunjin #hyunjin skz #hyunjin oneshot #skz hyunjin #stray kids hyunjin #stray kids oneshot #stray kids headcanons #hyunjin drabbles #kpop smut #skz x reader #skz imagines #hyunjin

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gotham-daydreams · 1 year

Text

Not Tonight

[Platonic! Yandere! Neglectful Batfam × Gender Neutral! Sibling Reader]

[Warnings: Mentions of Neglect, Reader generally not having a good time.]

(Not proofread. Not too much Yandere shown. Mostly angst with Reader. Set up(?))

2nd chapter here. Chapter 3 Pt. 1, Pt. 2. [Series Masterlist]

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How many times have you heard them say that? How many times have you tried to do something with them, to share your passion — or even just have some coffee with them, only to hear them say that phrase time and time again.

"Not tonight."

Well, what if you didn't ask them during the night? What if you asked them in the afternoon, or just when they were already up and about?

"Sorry! I can't right now, patrol reeeally kicked my ass last night. Besides, I have some other things that I have to get done, but maybe next time! For sure!"

Okay, right. That makes sense. Sometimes their line of work can be tough and draining, especially when someone is trying to run Gotham to the ground that night. So what if you just try to ask them when they aren't so busy? It may really limit the times you can ask... but you'd still try. Maybe it could also help if you asked for smaller things, like if they'd just like to spend a little time with you before going out again, or if you could just hang around them for a while? Nothing big, and anything was fine. Even if it was just sitting next to them, and having some small talk. Or maybe just the sitting part if talking was too much.

You'd take anything at all.

"I'm actually heading out right now, so I can't stick around. Go ask someone else."

"Can't you see that I already have enough compang with Titus here? Go bother Drake or something, I don't care."

All you could hear was snores past the door when you went to ask. So you moved onto someone else, hoping for a yes as your heart began to squeeze.

Someone had to agree eventually, right?

You begged the Gods as you traveled down the long halls. The chills of reality creeping up on you.

"Sorry, I'm going out to hang with some friends, but maybe next time!"

"..." She just looked at you before shaking her head, and taking her leave.

"I've got something to do at the moment, sorry, but hey, maybe you could ask your old man? Oh! Or maybe Alfred. That's a good idea."

Dick was out in Bludhaven, and you didn't want to bother Barbara considering how bisy she must've been the other night. So, you had no other choice. You asked, heart bleeding from how hard it squeezed.

"Not now."

Simple, to the point, and sharp.

Bruce's words were as cold as ever, and yet the echo in the cave only seemed to make the gap between you and him feel so much bigger. Even as you just nodded, eyes pointed to the floor. Taking your leave with a soft sigh that barely escaped you.

The elevator ride was longer than you remembered. The cold chill in the air grew freezing even as you stepped out, and now stood in one of the many halls in the Wayne Manor. Portraits and pictures decorated the walls, their painted and photographed eyes staring at you. Their gaze far from soft, but at least it was present. At least they, in that way, felt present.

You swore the only times they ever smiled at you that wasn't faked, or just for the sake of appearances was in those paintings and photos. Honestly, it was also probably the most times they've even looked at you too, and as sad as it is — you did say you'd take anything, right?

A 'no' or 'maybe' was part of that anything, technically. It's just not what you were hoping for.

Sighing again, you stared up at one of the portraits, eyes shinging under the lights as everything you refused to say made itself so clear for a moment. You didn't want much, and never asked for more than what you were given. You didn't think so anyway.

You always followed the rules, you did more than just excel in all your classes no matter how hard it was for you to understand certain things, and you even tried to get into things your family seemed to enjoy without pushing too hard.

You studied up on all the pets Damian had so that you could not only care for them properly, but maybe even take care of them with him some day. You played games and read reviews on games you saw Tim play just for a chance that maybe you'd get the opportunity to play with him. You picked up boxing and have even been practicing your aim with an airsoft gun, and have also been going to certain place when you could to practice using real guns and learn about them just so you'd maybe be able to have a conversation with Jason, and even connect with him in some way. You even read nearly all the books in the library just to have a sliver of hope for something, anything.

You learned sign language in three different languages and tried to find out what Cassandra was interested in, just to have some kind of interaction with her. Even writing on small note cards in serval other languages in hopes she'd give some kind of response, even if you forgot to put your initials and such more than several times. You participated in gymnastics in hopes of getting closer to Dick. You tried to find out what Barbra was into so you could also hold up a conversation with her if given the chance. You've tried to match Stephen's energy and do things she likes and have even taken up material arts as a means to maybe be a little closer with everyone!

Yet it never seems like enough.

Your schedule was so packed and filled with activities and extra lessons of all kinds, just so that you could feel like you had something in common with someone in this family. So that, when given the chance, you'd be able to form a connection with one of them and your efforts and sacrifices wouldn't be in vain. Though that still had yet to happen.

You weren't even a vigilante as you tried to persue your own passion and dreams, and yet that one single thing seemed to be keeping you away from everyone else. The one thing you were unwilling to do for them just seemed to make the gap between you and the rest of the family grow bigger. They're constant and continuous dismissals only seemed to further that point.

Just... what were you doing wrong? Was you not being a vigilante and constantly putting yourself at risk every night really putting that much of a dent in your relationships? Did your dreams really get in the way of that? Just because you didn't want to put yourself in danger? Just because you wanted to pursue music instead?

You took up art despite not being super interested in it before. You've been reading all of your life. Your stretched, ran, exercised, cooked, cleaned, organized, sang, wrote, danced, and even sculpted. You picked up almost any hobby someone could have under the sun, even if it began to feel like a chore and a job to you, just so that you could have something, anything in common with this family.

Though now you've gone through countless 'hobbies', and dropped many more since nothing seemed to be working, it... it still didn't feel like enough. Like you had to be doing something more despite having lost countless hours of sleep, just to go through the list of hobbies you had written down that you had left to try. You even took up some sports you were somewhat interested in, and yet nothing clicked.

Though is that really surprising when no one noticed how many times you snuck out for lessons and practice, or how long you were out? When you'd even forget to return to the Manor sometimes, and anyone still had yet to notice you were even gone in the first place?

... You couldn't help the small chuckle that escaped you. It was broken in every way, and yet empty all the same. Maybe you were finally taking after Bruce, but you wouldn't get your hopes up.

You looked up at the painting as if it'd give you all the answers, and yet dismiss you at the same time. The disappointment you felt was normal to you at this point, but the aching pain that came after was always the hardest part. Yet you still stared at the painted faces as if they were your real family, and the people close to them. Looked at the calculated and skilled brush strokes as if they'd give you what your family couldn't. What they refused to give you at every twist and turn, no matter how much you tried to accommodate to them. To do things for them. To just feel worthy enough to stand by their side. To be closer to them.

Though in the end, it is only that. A painting. A well crafted piece that, no matter how skilled the artist, could never truly capture how distant and vague they felt when you were the one standing to the side. No matter how much experience the painter had, they'd never be able to express and show how this poor excuse of a family felt to you, because they were only like that around you.

Maybe you'd feel special if it didn't make you feel like you were wasting your life living like this...

Eventually, you were able to tear you eyes away from the painting. The moon beginning to rise as you were sure the Manor was becoming more empty than it usually was, as more of its visitors and residents left.

The painting itself was nice even if it was one of many that didn't include you, with the number of photographs without you in them being much higher. Honestly, it used to be one of your favorites despite how bittersweet you feel about it now.

You still remember that day, but that would be implying that you forgot the others.

Regardless, you managed to pull yourself away from the spot you had been stuck in for the few moments you were trapped inside your own head. You tried to make yourself feel a little better, and give yourself some reassurance that maybe tomorrow would be different some how, and if not? Perhaps the day after, and the day after that.

Yet it all failed as you passed by more and more memories. Some were events you had participated in, sure, but the pictures made it look like you were never there in the first place. Heartwarming moments littered the halls, but you only recall seeing them from a distance — or being aware that the moment had even happened only when you saw the picture be put up.

It was like the very universe was trying to send you a sign with your constant failures and your family's persistence, intentional or not, to keep you at a distance. You didn't even know if it was appropriate to refer to them as your 'family', and maybe it wasn't considering things, but you still weren't sure.

You had been fighting for a chance to talk with any of them about anything at all for the longest time, because you wanted to be a part of this family. You wanted to spend time with them and really give this 'new life' of yours a chance, but now that 'new' part of this life had worn off. It was hard and honestly more draining than it was rewarding at this point, but you still wanted to give it a try.

Sure, it had been years at this point and now you were just about to go into college, and when you had first arrived here you weren't even middle school, yet little to no progress had been made — you never gave up. You haven't given up. So maybe you could try for a little longer? Just... a little bit, not too much this time, and figure something out?

You almost felt a little sense of hope return to you, no matter how redundant and helpless this situation felt and seemed. Yet it all came crumbling down again when you passed by one of the rooms, and saw something taped to the door.

It was a flier for your performance. One that would be happening soon.

Since your siblings began to pay less and less attention to you as time went on, with your conversations with them growing even shorter, you opted to just tape fliers of your upcoming performances on their doors. Though only the performances you'd thought they'd enjoy, and just hoped that they would show up, if they wanted to, when you stepped onto that stage and approached the instrument you'd be playing for the evening.

You tried texting and other forms of communication at first, but those quickly stopped working and so you just opted for this, and of course it was just as effective as the others.

Alfred was really the only one who listened to your music when you performed, and you only knew that because you caught him playing one of the live performances you had done on the television one day. He not only going out of his way to record the performance, but also trying to find the channel it was broadcasted on.

Ever since you've tried to give him the correct channel number when you do live performances, but that still didn't feel like enough. You loved and appreciated Alfred from the depths of your heart and soul, but what would it take for one of your siblings or close family friends to notice you like that? What would it take for your supposed father to even care to listen to your music? To watch a performance? To not turn you away?

It was only in that moment did a new emotion fuel you. Crawling it's way up your spine as you carefully took the flier in your hands, looking it over before ripping it off the door.

This. This one small thing was all you wanted from them. Over everything else, you just wanted to see one of their faces, one time when you looked out to the crowd when you performed — but every single time, all you saw were strangers.

Every charity event, every gala, every party- that's all you were surrounded by, strangers. Even when you caught small glimpses of them, they were always doing something else, and completely off in a totally different world than your own. That distance along creating a large void-like gap between you and them, and yet it only ever continued to grow. Even when they stood next to you, it was like you couldn't be further apart.

The reality of everything was crushing. Near deadly as you could feel your chest and lungs tighten, with your fingers digging into the paper enough to tear it apart, and reaching your palms as they formed crescent moons, soon drawing blood. Yet nothing could compare to the weight of your heart, and how heavy it felt to carry in your chest.

As you finally moved on from the door, your mind raced. Memories and flashbacks filling your head as every word and notion flashed before your eyes. Barely even paying attention to where you were going, but not caring enough to pay attention.

Every dismissal and excuse thrown your way. Every head shake and blank look. Every confused look, and realization that you were standing there the entire time. Every birthday that passed with the same wish never being granted. Every celebration spent on your own. Every message left on read. Every note ignored. Every time you were forgotten. Every time you were left behind. Every time you brought yourself home, and every time they never noticed. Every night wasted, trying to come up with different things to do only for all of them to turn out fruitless. Everyday that 'maybe' never cones true. Every time you looked out to that sea of strangers, hoping to see someone you recognized, only to find none. Every hour you wasted trying to do something for them while they never once thought of you.

Maybe you'd cry if you could. Then again, maybe not.

You already had spent too many tears over failures you recovered and grew from, and hardships you faced and fought. You've already cried just a little too much during those night you just couldn't handle being so alone, in such a big place anymore. Besides, you've cried enough over people who've never once thought of you. Who never once tried to make time to even see one of your performances, or even allow you to spend a few minutes in their space.

You've given them enough, you think. Especially since after you spent years trying to just make it two thirds of the way — they couldn't even reach that one third of the gap you couldn't. They didn't even try, at least not anymore, and after you had tried to make it easy. Yet, you only hurt yourself in the end.

They never cared about you, and maybe they did once upon a time, but good does that do now when you're trying to go out of your way to make things convenient and easier for them, only for them to skip out on you anyway. No text, no call, no message, no indication, nothing. Just pure silence.

Maybe you were asking for too much, but was it really so bad to want to be loved? And by the people who are supposed to be your family no less?

Hah, who are you kidding at this point. You've just been living in a house full of strangers, and you're the only one who hasn't seen it yet. They've already long since cast you out, and it's only now have you come to truly realize it.

Especially now, as you stand in front of the foot of the door to the music room. Staring at the knob as if it'll turn itself.

You weren't surprised, honestly. Playing music had quickly become an amazing outlet for you, and you had always come here to seek out what little your family couldn't give you; comfort. So it was no wonder that as you collapsed mentally, you had subconsciously brought yourself here.

And yet, only one thought entered your head in that moment.

'They don't deserve to hear my music.'

Perhaps it was now that you decided they had lost the privilege to do so. After all, ever since you had started having performances, even ones in front of wealthy crowds, your 'family' had seemingly been avoiding them like the plague. Never daring to even attend one, for whatever reason, and sure you could understand why they didn't attend the ones you performed at night — but they couldn't use that excuse anymore. You have strictly been playing during the after noon, and at sunset at a push, for over three years now. You've been playing in front of crowds and releasing music for four.

So, you turned away, walking off to your room as your thoughts still stormed. Anger fueling you as you barely remembered storming into your room, collecting any valuables and belongings you had and stuffing them into a bag or two. Not caring about clothes, and only what you deemed important and meaningful to yourself as you just grabbed and shoved everything into a bag if you could.

You could clearly tell now that you obviously weren't wanted, and that no one here even wanted to do the smallest things with you. That even asking to just spend a few minutes with them was too much. So you were doing the only sensible thing, and getting the hell out of here. Moving so quickly that your breathing became uneven, but you didn't stop until you had packed everything you needed, or was important to you in some way.

You only really had a second thought about all this when you were at your window, just about ready to jump out until you paused for a second.

Looking back at the door to your room, you couldn't help but hesitate. There was only ever one person in this entire Manor who treated you like family, and actually put in effort to not only be with you, but to indulge themself in your passion. That met you at the half way mark, and even went a little over sometimes. Since even if everyone else had ignored you — Alfed was there, even if despite all of his efforts you still couldn’t handle this, and maybe that was also your own fault in some way.

You still didn't want to stay, you couldn't anymore, but shouldn't you at least say goodbye? Maybe? After everything... at least he tried.

...

You settled for second best.

Quickly, you grabbed a flashcard and wrote down something before pocketing it and moving back to the window. You may not have any equipment for this kind of thing, but you still managed to scale and work your way around the wall, and managed to reach the window to Alfred's room.

You took a little peak inside, and when you saw that he wasn't there, you opened up the window just a bit, place the small note on the windowsill, and closed it. Then, you skillfully and carefully made your way down, and snuck off to Gotham City. Making your way to a friend's place as you crashed there for the night.

Never once did you look back.

Nor did you ever feel inclined to.

------

Later that night, when Alfred read the note, all it said was:

I'm sorry, Alfed. - Y/n

Just with that alone, it was like he understood everything despite the little that was said. All he could wish you was luck, and that you'd be safe wherever you went.

Suddenly, just like that. The nights where melodies would lull the residence of the Manor to sleep, and bring a temporary, mellow peace to all who heard such a tune, were long gone...

Guess they'll just have to find it, and bring it back.

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Kind of rushed at the end there, hope it isn't too bad for a first post. There's probably a lot of mistakes, so apologies for that.

#this was all written in one go #so that's fun #more angst than anything honestly #not really any yan but it is supposed to be for yan stuff #platonic yandere batfam #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere x gn reader #gn reader #platonic yandere #neglected reader #sibling reader #reader tries too hard and does their best but finds out it isn't enough #some things just aren't meant to be #but that doesn't mean they get to run around scott free either #not series

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