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jamiedc-they-them · 2 years

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Being Enid's Twin, struggling with Depression, and being best friends with Wednesday:

You and your sister were close. Not as close as some siblings, but you were close. You cared about each other.

You always felt guilty, her always doing more of the work to make sure you were ok. She'd always assure you, however, that she was ok with it.

"I just want you to be ok," she would always say. She just wanted you to know that you weren't alone.

Still, she also let you have your own space. Your own time alone.

With your brain constantly attacking you, it soon dug into your personality. You didn't notice it, but Enid did.

You were more pessimistic, more shut off. It worried her, but she also went "ok, this is the new you. I may not like it, but it's you, we'll work with it. I'm not going anywhere, Y/N. pinky promise."

You didn't really understand the point of the finger helping the promise, but still.

So, you both go to Nevermore, and Enid has a much better time fitting in than you do.

You mainly just keep to yourself, but your sister seems to always find a way to find where you are.

In a school for of outcasts, you seem to be the outcasts of outcasts.

One day, Enid comes by your room - just your luck, you don't have a room mate, genuinely lucky there in your mind - and asks you to come with her.

"And you want me there, because...?" you ask Enid as you both go up to her room.

You do always have to admit, it's nicely decorated, her room, even if not your style - you don't have the energy to both decorate it or think of things to decorate it with.

"Because, Y/N," she says, opening the door, "I finally get a roomie! And you can maybe have a new friend."

"Not good at those, E, you know that."

The words sting her - on your behalf, too - as she always hates the truth of it. People tend to ignore you; occasionally Xavier will say give you a passing nod - you're both torture artists after all - or the odd word or too. You both express yourself via your art; him with his paintings, you with your writing.

Enid always loves your words, even if their darkness, the plots, and the characters make her flinch. It's honesty and an outlet. That, and she also made sure you'd find some therapy too. You don't go all the time, but you try, sometimes.

Then, a girl called 'Wednesday Addams' enters. Stoic face, arms crossed, and eyes that convey all you need to know.

Enid does the talking, being a bit hurt at the rejected hug, but Wednesday takes notice of you. You've moved yourself to Enid's bek. bringing a typewriter out from under it. You place it on the bed, kneeling on the floor, typing away.

Enid, seeing Wednesday's look, looks back and sees you typing, "oh, no. Sorry. That's Y/N, my sibling."

There's a spark in Wednesday's eyes, seeing you type, and from a typewriter no less.

"Mx Y/N?" Weems calls out, and you look up to them, timid smile on your face as you cough to cover your embarrassed look, "would you be able to go with your sister and show Miss Addams around, please?"

"Uh, I mean...sure?"

"You don't have to," you all look to Wednesday at her words, "seeing this whole prison once would be punishment enough."

For the first time in a while, your smile is full, and you laugh. Enid smiles, happy to see you happy - even if in your mind it won't last long.

You go back to your room, giving Wednesday a nod, and bring the typewriter with you.

There's a knock at your door. You go to it, expecting some lecture from your sister; opening, however, you see Wednesday instead.

You both stare at each other for a moment. She takes in your figure in full; the tired eyes, messy hair, and low weight. She doesn't say anything, however.

"May I come in?" you open your door, allowing her access. The first thing she clocks is the Asexual-Aromantic flag covering the window of your room.

You see she has a box with her, "what's in that?" you ask.

"My typewriter," she says, looking for a place to put it.

"Oh. Here, you can put it here," you say, clearing some space on a free desk.

She nods in thanks, setting up, "I almost died today."

You pause as you go back to your typewriter, turning back to her, "I'm glad you didn't."

"For once, as am I."

"I have days like that too."

She pauses as you sit back down, typing away. You're interesting. You have a story. Both one you're telling and one about you as a person. Sure, you sort of fit one of the many groups - irony - Enid talked about outside, the outcast, but it doesn't phase you. You do your own thing. She respects that.

You remind her a small bit of Pugsley. There's a shift in her at your words.

She won't torture you like she does him. You seem to do that to yourself already, according to Enid.

And while she has an infatuation with the dark, you're not someone who deserves to be lost to it.

Enid is surprised when she sees Wednesday gravitate towards you the next day.

"Making friends?" she asks you and Wednesday as she paints her boat.

"Allies," she corrects, "Y/N is as confused about Rowan as I am," she had told you about what had happened during your writing session. While she knew she could do this on her own, having someone else believe her was oddly helpful.

"Guys...come on, we all saw him."

"It doesn't make sense, Enid."

Enid wants to believe you; really, she does. You are her sibling and Wednesday is her friend (hopefully), but the evidence is stacked against you both.

You bring Wednesday to Eugene, but you stay with the bees. Eugen has a charm to him that you admire. Makes you jealous. Wednesday sees it in you, hidden, deep down.

Enid has to admit, you're surprised you're at the tournament to cheer them both on, but she appreciates it. She's glad Wednesday is getting you out more. She never liked it that you just locked yourself away all the time. She knows it's not your fault, your brain is in fight mode with itself and so you seclude yourself to try and stop - in your words - 'dragging people down with you'.

You go to your sister and Wednesday's room instead of her going to you. You sit on the floor, typing away, sitting in the split between Enid's side and Wednesday's side. Thing normally stays near you, keeping you company and like seeing your work.

As much as neither of you like to admit it, you're good for each other. She gets you out more with the investigations, and you both bounce story ideas off of one another - you're the only one she lets read a full draft, as you are with her; and you give her someone else to be with - someone like her. Not a mirror, but a confidant who believes her.

She also makes sure you eat, bringing extra food to you without saying anything - well, sometimes she does to get your attention, but other than that she doesn't make a fuss of it.

She also sends Thing to your room if you haven't left all day. Thing checks up on you, but also sometimes brings pieces of Wednesday's works.

You see in her shorter pieces, mental health is a common topic, with the question of 'are you ok?' and phrases of 'you can tell me' and 'you aren't your struggles' cropping up every so often.

Because of Enid's - understandable - uncomfortable feelings with the case board being in her room, you and Wednesday move it to yours.

So, when you are unable to come on an investigation with her - whether that be because you have no energy, she feels it's safer if one person goes/she needs vision that only she can find, or if you're just busy with class - she'll bring back what she can find.

"I had to ask Xavier to the dance" she says to you, as you both sit on your bed, looking at the board. She had brought you copies of the records on the victims.

"Yeah?" you ask, chin resting on your hands, legs crossed.

"Yes," she confirms, "I feel he may be our killer."

"Yeah?" She doesn't mind your one-word answers, you're having a clouded head day.

"He had claw marks. He also draws the monster."

You hum, "always wondered what he did in his little shed."

"Well, now you know."

"Now I know."

"You know Bianca once asked me to a dance?"

"What did you say?"

"Well," you nudge your head to the flag, "not my thing, I think she thought about doing that siren song thing on me."

"But she didn't?" she checks.

"No," you assure, shaking your head, the two of you meeting eyes, "she didn't."

She nods.

"I envy you," she says, honestly.

"Why's that?"

"Not getting caught up in those emotions. It's a waste of time."

"The act of caring ain't too bad. But, I think I get where you're coming from."

"Are you going to the dance?"

"Might do," you say, "kill some time. Besides, haven't been much help lately with this whole thing," at 'this' you point to the board.

"I can assure you, you have been helpful enough," it's short but honest. You smile, but it's not there for long. But she knows, she knows you appreciate the words.

You dress up as best you can for the dance, with Enid's - who is way too excited - help. You find your own table, but are surprised when a chair pulls up, and it's Bianca that has joined you. She gives you a smile, you mirror it.

"Wednesday just talked to me, and I think I need to apologise."

"It's fine," you say, meaning it; you're over it.

"No. I --" you turn back to Bianca, "I should've known better. And, to think that I even thought about using my siren --"

"We're fine, Bianca, really. I'm not angry at you."

"You're not?" she asks, genuinely confused.

You shake your head, "you didn't know. It happens. People make mistakes."

Her smile now is brighter, "thank you, Y/N."

You nod, "anytime."

You sit in comfortable silence, "you want some company?"

"It's cool," you say, "go be with your friends."

She nods, standing up, and puts a hand on your shoulder, "you're a good person, Y/N."

"Have my moments," you share a smile before she departs.

You watch Wednesday dance, and you smile at the style she has.

The blood falls, and you take a moment to wash in it. At least now you're semi-clean. Or, well, technically.

Then, Wednesday approaches you, "we have to go," she says, grabbing your hand and pulling you with her.

"Who's in trouble?" you ask, knowing it was a vision she had.

"Eugene," is all she says as you both take off running.

You find him, barely alive. All you have is ringing in your ears. You put your hands on your knees. It doesn't last long, however, as you fall onto the floor. Curling up.

Wednesday finds herself crouching to your level, and saying your name. You don't respond a few times; and before she can stop herself, she puts a hand on your arm. You jump at the contact, but it makes you look up at her.

A part of her hates how much this school has made her care, how it's brought her these people, but that part of her is quiet right now. Her main thoughts are on getting Eugene to the hospital, and yourself home.

She does both, but you're silent the whole way there and back. You're not really here, eyes vacant of any expression.

Going back to her room with her, where Enid gives you a massive, crushing hug, and you find yourself breaking down in your sister's arms.

"I've got you, Y/N. I've got you. We're not going anywhere. We're not going anywhere," for once, Wednesday does not mind being included in that.

You stay in their room, passing out on the floor. Thing brings over a blanket for you.

You're not very talkative the next few days. Wednesday sends Thing to your room more and more. You catch him a few times, but you don't have the energy to address him.

You're spiralling. But parents' weekend approaches. Enid comes to your room, bringing you some food and getting you up and ready for the day.

She pretty much has to drag you up.

"I'll be there the whole time. I'm not going anywhere, Y/N."

You just nod, forcing yourself out of bed.

You both go, but you don't look exactly presentable.

Your parents and you both have a... let's say distant dynamic. You want your parents to be proud of you, but you're both overshadowed by your siblings. To be honest, with everything going on in your head and the case, you sometimes forget the other ways that you are 'not normal'. You can't wolf out like your twin.

Your mother wants to send you to a Lycanthropy camp for werewolves.

"We're not going," you say to your sister as you both walk around the grounds.

"We have no choice --"

"We always have a choice," you say, "besides, you think mum is going to stop there with me? It's either I get sent there, or some Jesus camp for 'healing', ironic as it is."

"Well, what do we do?"

"Together..." you've never been the most tactile of people, but you find yourself being it here, you take Enid's hands in your own, "together, we'll go talk to her. We're not going Enid. She can't make us. I've got your back too."

Despite knowing it was true, hearing you say it was something else. She hugs you, tight. You hug her back as well.

She pulls back, kissing your forehead, "forever," she says, and the two of you confront your mother and tell her you aren't going. Your father says he's proud, and you know he means it.

For a moment, you're happy. Elated, even.

That even continues into Wednesday's birthday surprise. You just leave a gift on her table. It's a little poem, telling her how happy you are to have her as a friend. She keeps it in good condition in her draw.

Later, she comes to your room, asking for your help to go out for the case. You join your sister and Tyler (he's an alright guy, you think) and you go to the house. The vibe is old school horror, but you continue on. You're in full detective mode, so there's barely any talking from you. Wednesday sticks to your side, having always liked this side of you - the silent observer.

"So, you're Y/N," Tyler says, being friendly. You look to him, before back to the bookcase.

You nod, "Wednesday mentions you a lot," you can detect (ha) a slight bit of jealousy in his voice. Internally, you roll your eyes; seriously? Someone gets along and they're gonna get together? Jesus.

"She's a good friend. Always there when I need her."

"Well...that's good," he says. As you mentioned, not a bad guy.

You nod, "are you her boyfriend?"

He chokes on air for a second or two, "no -- no. I mean, maybe?"

You shrug, "go for it, I say. Never know with this world, how much time you have left."

"That a threat?" you'd scared him.

"No," you say, "just an observation of the cruel world we live in," you say, putting the flashlight under your face.

"Oh...ok."

"I'm just screwing with you," you say, laughing a bit, "nothing to fear from me."

"Oh. Ok. Good. That's good," Tyler might be a good friend one day.

Your mind just reminds you of what happened to Eugene. The dark whispers of it being your fault come back.

Tyler announces he's going to check another room. A bit after he does, you hear him scream. You then drag him outside. You hear the monster attacking Wednesday and your sister, but you know Wednesday can get them out safely. You trust her.

They find you, and you all get back to Nevermore, with Xavier's help.

Wednesday's soft knock is heard on your door just as you are getting into bed. You go to the door and let her in. She paces a little.

"What happened?"

"Weems is letting me stay. Enid and I had a fight."

"Oh..."

"She left our room. Or my room, I guess I should say."

"Knew I should've gone with you."

She cocks her head to the side, stopping her pacing and putting her full attention on you.

"I sort of...I had a feeling, you know? It should've been me instead of Enid to go upstairs. I know these things freak her out. Then she wouldn't have been in danger."

"But she would still be angry at me, maybe even more so, as it was you getting attacked, and not her."

"That ain't how this works, Wendesday."

"And why not?"

"Because I'm me and she's her. I had the same feeling with Eugene. He's a good kid, didn't deserve what happened to him."

"Neither would you," she says instantly, following your track of thoughts.

"Better me than him."

"That's not true."

"Makes sense up here," you say, tapping your head. You sit on your bed, putting your face in your hands.

She sits next to you on the bed, "my visions aren't always true," she confesses, "I don't think your thoughts are either. Especially those ones."

"Maybe. Maybe not."

"Thing will stay here tonight," she declares.

"No, really, it's --"

"He's staying. I shall see you tomorrow, Y/N," she says, giving you one more nod before going to her own room.

"Night," you say to thin air, before you see Thing on your table.

You don't really see Wednesday after the funeral. Instead, Enid comes to your room, pacing much faster than Wednesday.

"I can't believe her!" she rambles. You sit on your bed, cross-legged as your eyes follow your sister, "she just expects everything to be ok with an 'I'm sorry'?? No, that's not how this works!"

"Enid --" you try to say, but she only keeps going.

"And she's not even thankful! I don't really think she's even that sorry!"

"Enid --" your second attempt fails as well.

"And then she --"

"ENID!" she stops, looking at you with wide eyes. You stand up, and put your hands on her shoulders, "look, I get why you're angry, ok? I get it. But, admit it, you miss her. She's our friend. And a damn good one at that."

Enid takes a breath, "I think I left something up there anyway," she's been up there a few times already. Friendship breakups are hard, you'd know.

"Go. I'll be here," you assure Enid.

She nods, going to do that.

That night, Wednesday bursts into your room, shaken.

"Shit, what happened?!" you spring out of your chair, closing the distance between you.

"Tyler... Tyler is the Hyde!"

"Wait, wait, wait, wait. Tyler? The scrawny dude?" you ask, Wednesday gives you a glare, you raise your hands up - and are also glad you've never gotten the glare before - "right, don't judge, given this school; dumb question, sorry."

"Fuck," you curse, hitting you hand on your table, before shaking it in pain, "shit, I'm sorry, Wednesday."

"You did nothing wrong?" she says more as a question.

"I told Tyler to give it a go with you."

"You didn't know, Y/N."

"A pretty shitty recurring theme in my life, huh?" you laugh sourly, sitting on your bed, "fucking idiot!" you hit yourself in the head, "idiot! Idiot!"

Wednesday is quick with her actions, grabbing your arms and preventing them from hitting you again. She looks at you with that strong look she has in her eyes when she's on a mission, "Y/N. This. Is. Not. Your. Fault. You did not know about Tyler. You were being a true ally and wanting my happiness. You and I might not have a lot of it, but you wanted that for me. All that is left is for us to stop Tyler."

You shut your eyes, taking a few breaths.

"We will stop him. But I require help. You are one of the few people I trust. I need you."

You open your eyes, looking to Wednesday. Her eyes still have that look, but there is a softness there too.

It's the truth.

"What do you need?" is all you ask.

Your best friend smiles.

While you try to distract Weems (by asking to see if you could actually maybe find a therapist) you are interrupted by Bianca and the Sirens.

You rush down to warn Wednesday, but you only see her being dragged out. As she sees you, she subtly shakes her head, before mouthing "Xavier" and you know what she means. It isn't him. You've got the wrong guy.

You run to the woods, lost; but then you remember you're a werewolf. You shut your eyes, listening out for anything, before sniffing. You pick up a sent, and run for it.

"Y/N! Run!" Wednesday exclaims, but it's too late as you are sent to the ground roughly, "NO!" She cries out. But you're saved. You hear growling. Wednesday, despite her own wounds, rushes to you, helping you sit up. You see a wolf in front of you.

You know who it is, but then a SNAP! is heard. Wednesday looks to you in concern, but you push her away as you begin your own transformation, Enid covering for you and getting into a scrap with the Hyde.

You join, looking back to Wednesday one more time - silently telling her to run. She does so, and so it's you and Enid.

Despite being new to the whole wolf-fighting thing, you hold your own pretty well. The closeness of your bond helps you fight. You can read each other and know each other's next move.

But, you get knocked into a tree, blacking out.

Coming back to you, you aren't in wolf form anymore, and a concerned and teary-eyed Enid is above you, shaking you.

"Oh thank god!" she cries, bringing you into a bone-crushing hug, "oh my god! Oh my god, you're ok! We're alive! We did it! We wolfed out! Together! We did it, Y/N!" her thoughts are coming out a mile-a-minute, but you can keep up.

She helps you up, and Thing climbs up your shoulder, giving you a pat on the head.

Ajax, who you've never been close to, is now dating your sister - you must've missed that, but you're happy for your sister - puts a jacket over you. You smile at him, and he pats you on the shoulder. You're off to a good start then.

You all go to the grounds, looking for Wednesday.

You find her, and you both run to her. Enid hugs her first, and Wednesday hugs back and shuts her eyes, before opening them and seeing you. Relief is in her eyes, and it seems to overwhelm her as she opens one of her arms, and you join the hug, the three of you just hugging each other.

You've made it.

Getting ready to leave, the two come down to your room after they are done packing themselves.

"Will you two be ok?" Wednesday asks, watching you shut your case that has your typewriter in.

You look back at her, giving her a smile, "if I can survive the Hyde, I can survive some time with my parents."

Her lips turn up a bit, "I knew you found me funny!"

"You had your moments of humour," she admits.

"I'll take it, Addams."

"Aw, my two besties! Getting along!" Enid celebrates.

You and Wednesday look at each other. You shrug. Guess this trio thing is going to be a full-fledged thing. You found yourself not minding. Having friends. Having these people to get you through the dark.

Maybe having friends wasn't so bad after all.

Maybe there was a light at the end of the tunnel.

#wednesday imagine #wednesday x reader #enid x reader #enid imagine

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8bitsupervillain · 2 months

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Higurashi When They Cry Hou Ch. 5 Meakashi pt. 12

With some of the more recent chapters I do occasionally think about uploading my various screenshot folders for the individual chapters up onto google drive, or similar. So that way you can see what I skip over if you're really curious

For instance, Shion and Ooishi have themselves a lengthy chat about Satoshi's disappearance. Which then cuts to Kasai and Shion, having a chat about the person who they say killed Satoshi's aunt, before cutting back to another lengthy section of Shion and Ooishi jawjacking about the confessed killer, and Satoshi's disappearance.

Shion then does some research into Oyashiro and the nature of the curse in the Okinomiya library where she meets Miyo Takano, and the two talk about the nature of Onigafuchi, Oyashiro's curse, and the disappearances therein. Shion had evidently not clocked the notion that when someone dies, someone else seems to disappear, which seems at odds with prior narration, but still. Shion then goes back to her apartment and gets a visit from Mion. The two share some cheesecake and talk about Shion's penance. And then:

This, I feel confirms my suspicions about the Shion/Mion mystery from the end of Watanagashi. Shion is acting a lot more violent and aggressive compared to the shrieking woman in peril she was claimed to be when she had Keiichi at her mercy towards the end of that chapter.

Considering the way Shion has reacted in an aggressive violent manner this scene convinced me that the earlier times when "Mion" was acting incredibly violently were in fact Shion. After all, this chapter has gone to considerable length to establish that Shion has a deep grudge against Oryou, at the very least, and has a less than good view of Mion. So it wouldn't surprise me to learn by the end of Meakashi that everything that happened when the bodies started cropping up was entirely Shions doing. I'm open to the idea of this all being a deception to show how Mion is actually the crazed demonic killer that Watanagashi claims she is, especially when it shows just how easily cowed she can be. But at the moment I'm willing to accept the idea that Shion's behind it all. The Why is all I'm missing, because I don't think she would have enacted the whole plan just because Satoshi vanished.

I like to think these TIPS were just put in there to be like "yes, we're skipping back to 1983," and not have to just keep rehashing information it's given up repeatedly. You think anyone at the Comiket, or whatever convention these originally sold at just bought the newest one and dived in completely unaware of the larger ongoing narrative?

Like they just saw this cover with the green-haired anime girl with a knife, went ooh, and bought it without knowing the first thing about it? How confused do you reckon they were? Or do you think they were able to get by without being too terribly lost?

As an aside, looking for even just the original box art is rough. The internet generally has a problem with just dumping out spoilers you know? As an additional aside, Higurashi the shmup? That's a thing that exists apparently, which doesn't surprise me, as well as an ebay listing for an alleged Higurashi fighting game.

Getting back on topic.

We're back to 1983! Everything's gonna be great forever!

I like to imagine this particular set of biker delinquents just get their bikes kicked over all the time. Everywhere they go, someone just knocks em out. So it's basically a weekly occurrence someone screws with their bikes, they confront them and bam, crowd out of nowhere to hassle em out of town. Maybe in the final chapter of this series the embodiment of Oyashiro will knock over the motorcycles again, and the biker delinquents having enough of the universe's shit will beat up and take down Oyashiro. I can't believe I've just now accurately, and completely, predicted the end of the series.

Look at this dork ass. Most specifically his dumb little vest on the original art. Turning it into a tank-top was probably the right choice in the end. I was just struck by a terrible vision of the future. Because this seems to just be a retelling of Watanagashi this means there's a significant chance that this will make me go through the part with the otaku again. I really, really hope not. That was quite possible the worst part out of the entire series to read.

#higurashi #higurashi when they cry #higurashi no naku koro ni #higurashi playthrough

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tenebraevesper · 2 years

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Vandalize My Heart, Entry 1: Leave Your Mark

''Did we make a work of art just so you could deface it? Did you let it fall apart just so you could replace it? Had your name on the side of a burning bridge, watch it fade when the smoke rolls in. Time that you killed, you promised to help me rebuild! Feels like you planned it, took us for granted, oh…''

– Vandalize by Sonic Frontiers

xXxXxXx

Was this really a good idea?

Sonic had to admit that hiding behind a bush and spying on Shadow, who was standing in the vicinity of the Ferris Wheel, wasn't one of his smartest ideas. True to his word, Shadow was holding a bouquet of lavenders in one hand and a golden ring that resembled one of his Inhibitor Rings in the other, waiting for RealShadowFan01 to appear. Sonic could feel a stinging sensation in his chest, as if he had been stabbed, but tried to ignore it. He had been through much worse stuff, and told himself that he should just grin and bear it. Clearly, this was important to Shadow, and whatever happened from now on, he would be happy for his rival.

Yet, he wasn't happy. He had just started processing his feelings for Shadow, realizing that there was more to them than just rivalry or friendship, and it hurt. It really hurt to know that there would be someone else in Shadow's life, someone who might be able to make him happy. Everything happened so sudden, and now he was about to lose someone he held dear.

Dude, you're not losing Shadow. Sonic rubbed his temples, teeth gritted as he was trying to break out of his grim thought process. It is not like he's going to disappear from your life. However, he had to admit that he couldn't really see Shadow being with anyone… aside from himself. Was that really such a selfish desire? After all, he didn't even know whether Shadow felt the same about him.

Sonic sighed, glancing back at Shadow, who was still patiently waiting for the would-be suitor. He had to admit that he was amazed by Shadow's patience, being able to stand at once place for so long. Sonic himself would've gotten bored after a few minutes and just started running in circles to keep himself occupied. How much time has even passed? Sonic gazed at the nearby street clock, noting how around 30 minutes have already passed since he and Shadow had arrived here. Huh, is this person going to be a no-show? Sonic lowered his head, curling his hand slightly as he placed it on his chin. Do they even know where to go? Maybe they ran into some kind of trouble?

Sonic gazed back at Shadow, who didn't appear to be particularly perturbed by the fact that that person was running late. He had a fairly neutral expression, occasionally looking around. Sonic followed his gaze, noting how they weren't alone here. Vendor booths were scattered around the area below the Ferris Wheel and there were other people walking around, playing games or just having fun. Sonic wished that he could join them, having seen a chili dog stand earlier and he even found a few vendor games he wanted to try out. However, he didn't want to be alone.

Sonic gazed back at Shadow, his ears lowered as he felt downcast. Maybe I should just tell Shadow how I feel about this whole thing… But, I don't want to ruin this moment for him!

He hated how torn he felt about the idea of confessing his own feelings to Shadow. He was used to their interactions being quite simple and straightforward. Sure, they would challenge each other, make quips and mess with each other, maybe butt heads over whatever plan they came up when they had to save the world, but ultimately, they would work together. If things were so easy, then why couldn't he make a move?

Sonic took a sharp breath, clenching his fist. One of his philosophies was to live life without regret, and while it was something he told his friends, he knew that, in this moment, he needed to follow his own advice. He knew that, if he didn't go for it, he'd have to live with the knowledge that he had the opportunity to confess to Shadow and that he blew with because he felt too conflicted over it. Gathering the courage, Sonic stepped out of his hiding spot and walked over to Shadow with a determined expression.

''Hey, Shadow!'' Sonic waved at his rival, approaching him. Shadow turned to him, his ears perked up, but his expression remained mostly unchanged. For a moment, Sonic wondered whether Shadow was actually disappointed to see him. Well, there is no turning back anymore.

''You're late, Sonic,'' Shadow said.

''I know that you- wait, what?'' Sonic was about to make small talk, only to be caught off guard by Shadow's statement. ''What are you talking about?''

''I had been waiting for you to show up,'' Shadow told him. ''For someone who claims that he is the fastest being in the world, you really took your time.''

''Did you have to take a jab at me?'' Sonic asked dryly, then rose an eyebrow, giving Shadow a curious look. ''Also, what do you mean by you had been waiting for me to show up?''

Now, Sonic did understand the implications of Shadow being somehow aware that he would be here, but he still wanted to hear it from the dark hedgehog. Shadow stared at him for a moment, brow furrowed.

''Why are you here?'' he responded.

''Well, I was on an evening run and I saw the Ferris Wheel, and I remembered how you said you'd be here, waiting for this RealShadowFan01 person. So, I thought I might keep you some company until they arrive,'' Sonic said, feeling a sting of guilt over the lie. Admittedly, not all of it was a lie, as he wanted to keep Shadow company, but for different reasons. Shadow kept staring at him, clearly not buying any of it.

''If that is the case, why have you been hiding in the bushes?'' Shadow asked. Sonic felt his heart skip a beat, realizing that he was caught. He attempted to come up quickly with a plausible answer, only to be surprised when Shadow placed the bouquet in his arms. Sonic stared at the bouquet, the scent of lavender filling the air, and looked back at Shadow, completely stunned to see the tiniest of smirks on Shadow's lips, who then held up the golden ring. ''Nevertheless, you're here, which means that I-''

''Wait, hold on a second, I thought this was supposed to be for RealShadowFan01,'' Sonic protested, feeling rather flustered. The way Shadow kept looking at him sent shivers down his spine. The dark hedgehog tilted his head, folding his arms across his chest, still holding onto the golden ring.

''I said that I would propose to whoever meets the conditions I set, and that I would be waiting for them at the Ferris Wheel. You were the one who showed up, therefore I would propose to you and accept you as my partner,'' Shadow explained in his usual business-like tone, acting as if this was the natural conclusion to the whole story.

Sonic was clutching the bouquet, his heart beating at a rapid speed, his cheeks as red as the stripes on Shadow's quills and his eyes wide as he stared at Shadow, completely baffled by what he just heard. Indeed, he was here to support Shadow, and yes, he did have feelings for his rival and wanted to confess – but he did not expect that Shadow would actually propose to him! His thoughts were scrambled, and he was unable to even form a coherent sentence. While he was used to being thrown off the track during his many adventures, and able to get his composure back just as quickly, this was something he had no answer to.

As for Shadow, he observed him in silence, clearly waiting for an answer. He had to admit that part of him was satisfied that, for once, the cobalt hedgehog had shut up instead of blabbering away, but he was already counting the seconds until Sonic would start talking again. He decided to take advantage of the silence, already predicting the question on Sonic's mind as he took the latter's free hand, this gesture flustering the cobalt hedgehog even more.

''Do you remember what I had said? That your methods are annoying, your jokes are unfunny, your skills undisciplined, your optimistic outlook towards others naïve, and that your shoes are garish,'' Shadow continued, looking slightly amused as Sonic frowned upon hearing that criticism again and hoping his rival would get to the point. ''However, I wasn't lying when I said that I don't hate you.''

''Shadow, no one doubted you,'' Sonic replied.

''Right, except that it is more complicated than that,'' Shadow said, his tone heavy.

He wanted to say more, but seeing Sonic's gaze, he realized that his rival already understood. It was rather strange, being here with Sonic, admitting to the latter that he did see him more than just a friendly rival. He wasn't the type of person to wear his heart on his sleeve, preferring to keep them to himself. He knew that he still had trouble connecting to other people on an emotional level, despite his friendship with Rouge and Omega. He knew that, even though he did move on, there were still some issues he had that were unresolved, and he kept pushing them back, putting up a front in hopes of not having to deal with them. The step he made here took a lot of courage on his part, and he was proud of it, but he had to admit that it was hard. Despite having made his decisions, he couldn't deny that he still had some doubts. Still, this was Sonic he was talking to, and he was thankful that his rival listened to him, and acknowledged how he felt without a word.

Shadow and Sonic then gazed down, realizing that Shadow was still holding Sonic's hand, the golden ring being in the other. They looked up at each other, the same unspoken question being on both of their minds, with a wide grin spreading across Sonic's lips and him nodding joyfully. Shadow felt a huge wave of relief, not even realizing that he was genuinely smiling as he put the golden ring bracelet over Sonic's wrist. Sonic held up his hand, admiring the ring bracelet, then gave Shadow a mischievous smirk. The smile on Shadow's expression faded, and the sense of relief was replaced by a familiar feeling of irritation, as he knew what Sonic was up to.

''So, since when do you have a crush on me?'' Sonic asked, having to admit that, while he was glad that this awkward confession was over, he still had some questions.

''I could ask you the same,'' Shadow said in a deadpan tone, with Sonic just shrugging; basically admitting that Shadow had a point. He then continued, ''Frankly, I don't know when I developed those feelings, but I believe there was something for a while now. You can thank Rouge for making me realize that.''

''Rouge, really? What happened?'' Sonic asked, now intrigued.

''I had been talking to her about you the other day, and I guess she got fed up, telling me that I should just go confess my feelings to you since I obviously can't stop thinking about you,'' Shadow said. Sonic grinned, elbowing Shadow.

''Aw, that's so sweet! Do you also keep dreaming of me?'' Sonic teased him, with Shadow shooting a glare at him, only to smile a moment later.

''Do you want to admit something?'' he fired back, watching the smug smirk disappear from Sonic's expression. ''I thought so. Nevertheless, that's where things started to slowly fall into place. What about you?''

''I guess I was in a similar situation, not realizing that there was something there,'' Sonic said, rubbing the back of his head. ''It all came to a head with that marriage proposal during the Takeover. I realized that I was kind of jealous when you actually accepted, but I didn't say anything because I just wanted to support you regardless of how I felt.'' He then looked around. ''Speaking of which, where is that person? Do you think they might show up?''

''I don't know, but they missed their chance,'' Shadow replied. Sonic looked around, his gaze landing on the vendor stands and an idea forming in his mind.

''How about we go and celebrate the occasion? It is still early in the evening, and I think we both deserve to have some fun,'' he suggested.

''Sure,'' Shadow replied, only to be surprised when Sonic took his hand and started walking towards the vendor stands surrounding the Ferris Wheel, with Shadow following him.

''Cool! How about we try out that water gun shooting game? I bet I could beat you at it,'' Sonic said, giving Shadow a confident grin.

''Hmph, you wouldn't be able to hit it even if you stood right next to it,'' Shadow replied, smirking as he felt the familiar competitive spirit reigniting. ''We both know who the better marksman is.''

''Yeah, probably, but don't think I won't try my best,'' Sonic replied playfully, the two hedgehogs passing by a bench, not really paying attention to the person sitting on it, their head hidden behind a newspaper.

Once Sonic and Shadow vanished into the crowd, Rouge lifted her head, lowering the newspaper she was hiding behind and sighed in relief. ''Finally! I think it was already time that these two knuckleheads confessed their feelings to each other.'' She then reached for her smartphone, smirking. ''Although, I guess some people might be really disappointed that things didn't work out between Shadow and his number one fan.''

She then opened her Twitter account, typing something and then sending it, the message reading: ''Hello Shadow Fans, it appears I couldn't meet all of Shadow's requirements in marriage''.

''Oh, well, not my problem,'' Rouge smirked, grabbing the newspaper and getting up, then looking at the night sky as she thought about something. She then took off, flying into a specific direction. ''I think I should pay a visit to my Knucklehead.''

Links:

#Previous Chapter

#Current Chapter

#Next Chapter

#Vandalize My Heart (Masterlist)

#Vandalize My Heart #sonic twitter takeover #sonic frontiers #sonadow #shadow the hedgehog #sonic the hedgehog #rouge the bat

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andyisbleeding · 2 years

Text

Zombie Undertaker x Reader

Chapter 1. The Power

The back of the house in most arenas is a labyrinth of gray halls with gray floors and no windows. You'll find yourself walking in circles and still not getting anywhere new. Some passing doors had small name plates, mostly offices and janitorial closets. No help to you, of course. The show is somewhere different every night so there's no use trying to remember the floor plan of the arena. By the time the tour comes back around, you'll have been to 200 other stadiums in 200 other cities, an exhausting but exciting whirlwind of work.

You've been on tour for 6 months now. Finally having a handle on the day to day duties, you've almost been able to overcome the lack of sleep schedule with the help of daily energy drinks and sitting up naps in quiet corners. Friends were easily made, both crew and wrestlers know these are the only people you'll get to see for months at a time. This is your new family, you feel welcome. As long as you pull your weight and aren't a raging asshole, everyone gets along surprising well.

Of course people have their cliques and squabbles. Some fights do break out but most are warranted and broken up quickly by the rest of the boys. People make up pretty quickly, knowing that you can't get away from each other is the best way to snuff out that flame.

You continue to wander down the cement hallway, hoping that a sign or person comes along soon. It feels like you've walked the whole arena by now, 'how the fuck do you get back to the locker rooms?'

Stepping out to smoke a joint with the lighting crew seemed like a good idea at the time. The door locking loudly behind you was when you all realized you'd made a mistake.

"Who doesn't put a wedge in the door Dave!" The group tears into the rail thin man. "What is your first day?" "Narc!" "Fuck you Dave." You all erupt in laughter, slapping the man on the back.

You hear soft footsteps coming quickly towards you. The hallway finally coming to an end with only a right hand turn for a direction.

You turn the corner and come face to face, or perhaps belly to belly with Paul Bearer himself.

You stopped quickly to not run smack into the stout man and tried to side step out of his way. Two beady eyes scanned you up and down and made a snap decision. He arched his dark eyebrows at you and twisted his face into an all knowing smirk. "Lost your way little sparrow?"

You swallow hard and force a polite smile onto your face. No need to make an enemy of Paul Bearer, keeper and manager of The Undertaker. "Yes sir actually. Would you mind pointing me in the right direction?" You hold your breath.

Paul cocks his head ever so slightly. Taking in your request and rolling it around in his round head. He smooths out his mustache while he decides if he's going to answer. He looks you up and down again. You don't shy away from his gaze, making sure your eyes meet his when he studies your face. His face twists up again into an approving grin, he gestures behind him.

"Back the way I came," Paul said softly. "Two rights and you'll be back where you belong, little bird." He turned on his heel and went on his way. For a chubby guy, he was very light on his feet, you remarked to yourself. It must come with being a funeral director.

"Thank you!" You call after him. He doesn't seem to hear you or chooses not to respond, either way the encounter went well and you're no longer lost.

Paul's word was good, and in a matter of minutes you walk into the staging area. Stage hands and wrestlers lingering around monitors and craft service tables. A large digital clock blinked the time over head. 8:30 PM. The show had essentially just started. You'd be willing to bet that someone was probably still monologuing in the ring and the first fight hadn't even started yet.

You don't have much of a job during the show. You help with set up and tear down and occasionally help out the art department when they have an extra large job. Tonight was going to be a pretty quiet night. Maybe you'll find yourself a dark locker room and get a much deserved nap.

You decide to check the title card just to recheck the roster. You enjoy watching the fights but the chance to catch up on sleep is far and few between. Nothing pops out at you from the schedule so you wander back towards the locker rooms. People were scattered through the halls, leaning, laughing, talking business. A little bit of everything gets talked about when you spend 24/7 with the same group of people. No topic is off limits and no shame is known.

You walk past the bigger locker rooms. That's where people really congregate, mostly the wrestlers and managers but definitely no peace or quiet. A few of the guys have their own dressing rooms, those are labeled and almost always occupied and locked. You step up to the first door with no name tag. You knock softly as you twist the handle and crack the door. "Hello?" No response. You push open the door wide and glance around the room. Empty minus a loveseat and a small coffee table. No bags, no people, perfect.

You're tempted to lock the door but know that could end poorly. If someone comes looking, you need to actually be findable. You curl up on the love seat, facing the open room and cover up yourself with the flannel you had around your waist. You're a pretty light sleeper so when the taping ends and people get rowdy, you'll be up and ready for tear down. The love seat was lumpy and smelled like stale cigarettes but your eyes were heavy as soon as you were horizontal. You drifted away to the far away sounds of the WWF.

********

You shiver awake.

The whole room was freezing and foggy. You're surprised you can't see your breath as you sigh and bring your flannel tighter around you. 'Why is it so cold in here?' You think to yourself. You slowly bring your wrist to your face. The room is too dark and your eyes are still adjusting to being open again. Trying to read your watch was impossible. Your legs bump up against the coffee table as you put yourself upright. That's odd. The table wasn't that close when you laid down.

You feel his gaze before your eyes fully adjust to the dark room. Truly only lit by the hallway light coming through the thin door window, the corners of the room are pitch black. You look into the darkness in the far corner and it stares back at you. Silent and cold. Two piercing green eyes stare at you through a curtain of wet curly hair.

What little warmth you had left exited your body. A gasp escaped your lips as you realized who was standing in the shadows. There wasn't a name on the door. You're sure of it. No bags. Everyone had language, even him. There were no bags when you started your nap. No inkling of habitation. The room was too small to have overlooked anything.

The Undertaker took a stiff slow step towards you. His large frame, now outlined by the small strip of light coming through the door.

You stand up suddenly. Your legs are cold and numb but you've realized your mistake and now need a swift exit. "I'm so sorry Undertaker. I didn't know this was your room. There wasn't a name on the door." Your voice sounded small and far away. You clear your throat. "Sorry again. Let me get out of your way."

The Undertaker took another step forward. He hasn't blinked. You realize he's a full foot taller than you, maybe even more. You notice how sore your neck is from your little nap as you look up at him. He's still in his wrestling gear. Was he waiting for you to leave to change? Why hadn't he woken you up and kicked you out? Paul Bearer. Paul Bearer was the doer. He controlled The Undertaker, or at least claimed to. But Paul was absent. Maybe he sent Undertaker to the locker room on his own.

You've been frozen to the spot ever since you stood up. All the thoughts running through your head distracted you and he had stepped towards you again. Now you're face to chest with the Undertaker. His neck craned downward towards you, the never ending stare still taking you in. He smelled like wet earth after a fall rain. You couldn't hear him breathe. You couldn't feel any body heat coming off of him. You wondered if his skin would be cold to the touch.

Your hand twitches. Why do you want to touch him so badly? You picture touching his bare chest and then sliding down his stomach. Your face is red and warm now with embarrassment, at least mostly. You remind yourself how you remarked on how handsome he was when you saw your first fight as crew. His red beard covered a square jawline, constantly clenched and almost never moving. His sad green eyes had lost their light sometime long ago. Maybe back when he was alive.

He must have seen your hand twitch, or maybe he saw your face suddenly turn red in the freezing room. A purple gloved hand slowly made its way towards your bare forearm. You don't shy away as the cool leather touches your skin. His fingers wrap around your wrist, tightening slowly like a constricting snake. You tilt your head back to look into the Deadman's eyes. His expression hasn't changed but his gaze moved away from your face and onto your wrist and his own hand. He was holding you tightly but it didn't hurt. You're not sure if you could pull away even if you wanted to. He was the strongest man in the WWF and you'd seen him take apart people 3 times your size.

His eyes snap back to yours.

His stare is too intense, so you drop your gaze to his pale lips. They look soft and you wonder how they'd feel against yours. How they'd feel against your neck and then your chest and you suddenly realize your panties are wet. Your face burns even warmer in the cold room, a beacon in the darkness. You pray he can't read minds, he is supernatural after all. Being dead seems to come with a few good perks so why not telepathy? You find yourself wanting to lean against his huge frame. You want your lips against his and his hands on more of you than just your wrist. You look back into his eyes, trying to tell him everything you were thinking in just a look. You could kiss him if you go on your tiptoes, you think. You look at his lips again. Neither of you have moved since he grabbed your wrist.

Unsure where you found the courage or maybe the audacity but you couldn't stop yourself. You make yourself as tall as possible and put your lips against his. His lips are cool but not cold and surprisingly soft. His ginger beard scratched against your chin. He hasn't moved. You realized you closed your eyes as your lips met. Do you dare open your eyes? Could you take the emerald stare and rage probably growing on the Undertaker's face? No. You really couldn't. You feel stupid. Having a crush. Kissing a man you've never had a conversation with let alone a dead one. You start to pull away and the grip on your wrist tightens.

Your eyes snap open in shock. You're met with his dark eyes closed and his face moving closer to yours. His lips are back against yours, the deadmans kiss was unsure. He seems to be taking your lead, he's out of practice perhaps. You press your body against his and lean into his kiss. He fells so good against you. You shift your mouth on his and your noses bump against each other. You're so wet you're worried about it showing through onto your jeans. You want him to touch you all over. You want him to kiss you all over, to tear your clothes off, to pin you against the wall and fuck you until you scream.

The Undertaker pulls away suddenly, returning to his full height and taking a large step away from you. Your wrist is hot where his tight grip was. Your body is vibrating. You snap back to reality as you realize he's no longer against you. You wonder why the abrupt halt and immediately find out why. The door opens swiftly, almost like it was kicked open. The light switch clicks on and you go momentarily blind.

"Taker, why are you in here? Your room is down the… hall…" Paul Bearer's voice fills the little room. High pitched and doating, his sentence slowly came to a stop. Your eyes were still adjusting but you could feel his puzzled stare on your red checked face. "What are you doing in here little bird?"

You decided the truth was the best answer, up to the kissing part anyway. "I came in here to take a nap during taping. There wasn't a name on the door. I woke up a few minutes ago and he was just… here." You gesture to the big man, still as a statue. "I was just leaving, I need to go start tear down."

Paul's face twisted around as he spoke. His chubby fingers tapped on the gold urn tucked in the crook of his arm. Paul looked from you to the Undertaker and then back to you. He glanced at his watch dramatically and let out a sigh. "You still have a half hour until you tear down. You stay here little sparrow. Taker and I will find our way to OUR locker room." The stout man gestured at the Undertaker to follow him and then swiftly turned on his heel and retreated from the room.

The Undertaker's eyes cut into you once more. You look up to meet his gaze, holding it for a moment. You swear you can see a twinge of red on his lips, warmth transferred from yours. His right arm crossed over and straightened the glove on his left hand. The hand that had held you tightly, the glove being the only thing between your skin and his. His stare dropped to your lips until he turned to follow Paul. To follow the gold urn. To follow the power.

#wwf undertaker #wwf undertaker x reader #undertaker #undertaker x reader #smut #chapter 1 #fan fiction

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thevenusgreen · 3 years

Text

Shut up, Canvas! Pt. 2

Pairing: Viktor x Fem!Reader

Warnings: heavy petting

Viktor pulled himself out of arguably the best sleep he'd had in a long time. Momentarily forgetting where he was, he tried to get up from the couch. Once his eyes adjusted to the light (lack of it, rather), he quickly realised where his source of warmth in the cold lab was coming from: your arms wrapped around his torso and your leg resting on his hip bone.

"I'm the little spoon?" He said to himself, not expecting you to be awake enough to hum in agreement.

He squinted to check the time on the clock on his desk: 3am. Time to get up, he thought, because if I stay here any longer, I could just as well quit my job. He tried to release himself from your grip, trying his best not to touch your leg, but it was all in vain. You would not let him go.

"Vik. Too early. Go back to sleep, yeah?" You whispered and pressed him closer to you. You were thankful for the dark; your face was glowing scarlet.

"Fine," he sighed and snaked his hand to your leg resting on him, guiding it higher up on his waist. "Might as well get comfortable."

You stifled a sigh. What. The fuck.

***

You felt heavy. Something was tickling your neck. You opened your eyes and blinked fervently to get used to the late morning sun. Your view was being obstructed by Viktor's bedhead. He must have rolled over on top of you during the night. His head was buried in the crook of your neck. You had always wondered if he snored, and now his occasional sighs against your jaw made you shiver.

You were certainly not going to go back to sleep, and you couldn't wake Viktor because he needed his rest, so you resorted to busying yourself by drawing little pictures on his back. He seemed to be completely relaxed.

Until Jayce walked in. He made direct eye-contact with you, an incredulous and amused look on his face. "Why is Viktor still sleeping? It's, like, 9am."

"Jayce!", you hissed and gestured to Viktor snoringon top of you.

"Oh right, yes. Sorry," he whispered. "Wait, but why are you here? Under Viktor... no way. NO WAY!" He was practically jumping up and down with excitement.

Viktor, now awake, pushed himself up on his elbows, looked around and stiffened when he saw Jayce standing in the doorframe. He flopped back down onto you and groaned. "Mmm, go away!".

Jayce spotted the doodles on Viktor's arm. "What kinky shit are you into, Vik? Art-play?". This comment was followed by much aggravated protest from you and your scientist.

You suddenly felt incredibly exposed, even under Viktor's body. You nudged him off of you as gently as possible, giving him enough space to get off the couch without putting too much weight on his bad leg. He gave you a ghost of a smile, his hand lingered on your leg, steadying him as he stood up.

You got up after him, straightened out your shirt, and rushed out of the lab mumbling something about getting coffee.

Jayce jumped at this opportunity alone with Viktor to find out what had happened the night before.

"I do not want to talk about it right now,” Viktor said as he began to busy himself with his work once again. He stopped shortly after, not being able to hide the wicked grin playing on his lips. "Actually, I do want to talk about it." he told Jayce, putting his notes down.

He told him everything, from the first flower you drew on the sheet of paper he gave you. He beamed as he spoke about how you held him tighter in the early hours of the morning. How comfortable he felt with his head buried in your neck. How badly he wished he could just tell you he loved you.

"Well, shit, man, now I wanna be on top of her, too!" Jayce joked, earning himself a searing glare from Viktor. "Hey!" he laughed, holding his hands up. "Can't believe you made it through an entire night like that without getting…flustered!"

Viktor's face glowed red. He didn't. When you pulled him on top of you in your sleep and hummed in satisfaction, he thought that was the end. He forced himself to imagine Heimerdinger in his pajamas (amongst other distasteful imagery) to calm down.

"Yes, um. Me either." was all Viktor could say. Thank gods, he thought, when you returned with their coffee.

"Alright then, I'll take it to go," said Jayce as he took a cup from you on his way out the door.

You and Victor were alone again. It felt like miles between the two of you; him, sitting at his desk, you, lingering in the doorframe.

"Coffee's going to get cold all the way over there; Viktor mumbled, finding an open spot on the cluttered desk for you to put the drinks down on. You walked over as nonchalantly as you could manage.

"Hey," you started, "what's this project that's been keeping you up at night?". He began to explain it was a reactor experiment that would, if conducted perfectly, push Hextech to the next level.

As he explained the fickle nature of the technology, you began to focus on the arm you doodled on the night before. He hadn't washed it off. You reached over from where you were standing behind him and traced the little drawings. He paused to look up at you and cleared his throat, "Ehh, as I was saying, the reactor would only work if.." You continued running your fingers up and down his arm, and traced little circles on his palm.

Viktor closed his hand around your fingers, and you froze up. He swiveled around in his chair so that you were almost standing between his legs. His eyes trailed over your figure, nearly coming to a full stop when he reached the hem of your skirt. You felt completely exposed.

"You changed. Why?" Viktor asked, looking up at you quickly before reaching out to feel the fabric of your short skirt. "Heimer wouldn't approve," he mumbled.

You scoffed and flicked his hand away. "Why?"

"Well, I mean...he's pretty big on the dress-code thing. Says it's so as not to distract anyone. Something like that." He hesitated and started turning back to face his desk, when you stooped him.

"Okay, but he's not here," you laughed. "Am I distracting you?"

He looked up at you with a very unconvincing poker-face, “Of course not.”

You took that as a challenge. You inched closer, now standing between his legs, and placed your hands on his shoulders. He couldn't do anything but drag his slender fingers up and down your thighs, absolutely stunned by your sudden surge in confidence.

"What about now, Vik?" You asked sweetly.

Viktor gave you a look you had never seen before. His pupils were dilated, his caramel eyes now as dark as his coffee. His stare bored into you, and you had nowhere to hide. "(y/n)," he sighed and steadied you with his hands on your waist. "Come closer."

He was egging you on. Daring you to make another move. The shy scientist you knew had disappeared. You took the opportunity and closed the gap between you and him.

Lips and teeth collided. Viktor hummed against your lips and pulled you closer by the hips until you were sitting in his lap. "Look how the tables have turned," you sighed as you kissed his jaw. "Now I'm on top of you."

Viktor sighed and dug his fingers into the soft skin of your waist. You took his breath away with another kiss, nipping at his soft bottom lip and eliciting a heavy groan from deep within his throat.

You wrapped your hand around the back of his neck and and he reciprocated. You pulled his dark curls to tease him and felt him grip you tighter. Your kisses became deeper, more urgent and soon enough the both of you were gasping for air.

"Gods, how lucky am I, hmm?" Viktor whispered, peppering your neck and collarbone with kisses. All you could do was sigh and bury your face in the crook of his neck, as he had done earlier. Everything was perfect.

Neither of you heard Jayce walk in and when he announced himself with a polite "ARE YOU KIDDING ME GUYS", you jumped out of your skin, face burning red.

You hopped off Viktor's lap, accidentally kneeing him in the crotch, and left the lab.

Viktor was left sitting in his chair, grinning like an idiot, thinking about the next time the two of you would meet...whether that was on the couch or at his desk.

@hyperactiveravenclaw for writing hehe

#viktor #arcane #viktor x reader #league of legends #fanfic #arcane fanfic #fluff #hexcore #viktor imagine #viktor arcane

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bishopswriter · 3 years

Text

Lucky Pt. 2 (Kate Bishop x Reader)

*Hey everyone! Thanks so much for reading this story! I’m thinking about continuing this Lucky series and doing multiple parts. Also, I did want to clarify that I’m trying my hardest to write this as gender neutral for right now, that way everyone feels represented. Let me know what y'all think! As always, like and comment! I love hearing from you guys!*

@gay-vet-student

@simpforflorencepugh1

@btay3115

@kacka84

The walk was fairly short, which you were grateful for considering how cold it was outside. For the majority of the walk, you and Kate stayed in a comfortable silence. You would occasionally look at each other and smile. That was until you realized how cold Kate seemed to be. She had on jeans and a purple long-sleeve shirt, which was not nearly enough for winter in New York. You realized that Kate may not have been planning on being out in the cold that long, and you immediately felt bad.

“Here, take this,” you stated as you started pulling your hoodie off. You were grateful that you

had decided to bundle up today and wear a zip-up jacket over your hoodie.

“No, no I’m- I’m fine.”

You chuckled, “Kate, I can literally see your teeth chattering. I don’t need it, really. I have this zip-up. Plus, I’m always warm. It’s like a gift or something. Captain America has super strength, and I have a body temperature that’s slightly above average. I mean, personally, I think that qualifies me to be an Avenger.”

Kate grabs the hoodie from you with an appreciative smile, which then turns into a laugh. God, you seriously could not get enough of her laugh. “Yeah, you know, I think that’s what they’re lacking: a person whose body temperature is 100° instead of 98°. You would’ve had Thanos petrified.”

As you approach the place Kate led you to, you grab the door and let her in. She shoots you a smile that makes you stammer as you continue the conversation. “I-I’m going out on a limb here, but I’m gonna say that your favorite Avenger is Hawkeye.”

“You would be correct. What gave it away?” Kate asked with obvious sarcasm.

“Well, I’d say the apparent love for the color purple and the ‘world’s greatest archer’ title that you have given yourself is a pretty clear combo,” you state with a brow raised and a slight smirk.

“Hm, how observant of you,” she states. “Yeah, that’s one of my better qualities,” you reply. Kate quickly stated back, “Along with the modesty?” You were just as quick when you said, “Yes, exactly! Along with the modesty. That’s another great quality of mine.” You both started laughing as you approached the table. It was so refreshing to meet someone who was able to keep up with your wit. It seemed like there wasn’t a single thing you didn’t like about Kate.

When you got to the table, you pulled Kate’s chair out for her and she gave you a pointed look as she sat down. “It seems chivalry is not dead, after all,” Kate said with a slight laugh. You chuckled and replied, “Oh, love, chivalry was never dead to me.” As soon as you said it, you regretted it. It was a complete accident and you didn’t mean to refer to her as “love”. You were in the moment and it just slipped. You were sure your face was red, and you tried to cover it with an awkward laugh. Luckily though, Kate didn’t seem too fazed. A slight blush crept up to her cheeks and she just smiled at you before looking down at her menu. You smiled back, surely blushing 10x harder, and looked down at your menu. The waiter came and took your orders soon after your exchange.

Your coffee came soon, which was your saving grace because your fingers were still numb from the cold. You took a drink and let the warm liquid soothe you. “So, Kate, tell me about yourself. Obviously, you like archery and the color purple. What else do you like?” you asked with genuine curiosity. Kate already seemed so perfect to you and you were dying to know more about the girl who was able to bring down a clock tower with just a bow and arrow.

“Well besides archery, I really enjoy fencing, martial arts, and gymnastics. I always wanted to be like Hawkeye growing up, so I got really good at the stuff that I thought he was good at,” she answered. While she seemed excited to talk about her hero, there was also a hint of sadness that you didn’t understand. “I don’t really hear about very many people who really like Hawkeye, so why do you like him?”

Kate sat on the question for a minute and seemed to be contemplating how to answer it. Finally, she looked at you with a solemn expression and answered. “When the Battle of New York happened, a wall of my parents’ penthouse had been ripped out. I stood there, watching these insanely high tech alien thingies fly through the sky,” she stated as her hands mimicked the flying aliens. One of the things you were growing to really like about Kate was how she was so animated when she talked. It made listening to her effortless. “As I was standing there, I saw one of the aliens flying towards my building. I couldn’t move, when suddenly, I saw an arrow rip through it. And as it fell out of the sky, I saw Hawkeye jumping from a building, using some type of trick arrow to swing into the building. I mean, here was some random dude with no powers - just simple skills- risking his life to save others. My dad always told me that courage and will was all it took to make someone a hero,” she paused. “After he passed away that day, I swore to myself that I was going to be a hero to somebody and make him proud, so I started getting into the hobbies I have now,” she finished. Honestly, you didn’t know what to say. Instinctively, you reached across the table and put your hand over hers, while giving her a soft smile. “I know we basically just met, but I think he’d be proud of the person you are, Kate.” She muttered a “thank you” and turned her hand upwards, giving yours a squeeze.

The food arrived and light hearted conversations with Kate ensued. Just as you both finished eating, Kate’s phone dinged. She checked it and immediately her face grimaced. “Is everything ok?” you asked.

“Yeah, my mom just texted me to ‘politely inform me’ that we’re hosting a ‘soiree’ tonight and that my presence is required,” She stated with a tight lipped smile and rolling eyes.

“A soiree? That sounds fancy,” you say with a small laugh.

Kate huffs and responds, “Unfortunately, they’re super upscale and happen pretty much every week. My mom invites a bunch of clients, and they just drink champagne and talk about their endlessly boring lives.”

“Your mom must be in a good business. What does she do?”

Kate sighed and replied, “She runs Bishop Security.” Wait, if Kate’s mom ran Bishop security then that meant- “Yes, my mom is Eleanor Bishop.” She must’ve seen you putting the pieces together in your head. “Huh, well that would certainly explain why they’re called soirees,” you tried to keep an even voice, even though you were definitely intimidated by the fact that Kate’s family is that well-known.

The waiter eventually returned with the check, which Kate insisted on paying for as a “thank you” for covering for her last night. You both got up and made your way outside. As the cold wind whipped around you, you turned to Kate, about to ask her if she’d like to hang out again. However, she beat you to it: “Y/n, how do you generally feel about soirees?”

Her question caught you off guard but you answered, “Well, considering that I’ve never attended one, I’d say I'm indifferent to them.”

She looks up at you and gives you a pleading smile, and you already know that you’re going to do whatever she asks. “You know, we didn’t really get to talk about your life story, so would you maybe want to go to my mom’s soiree with me tonight and we can talk even more? I know I was just complaining about them, but i promise they’re not that awful, and it’ll be way more bearable if you’re there because there’s never anyone I actually lik-” you knew if you didn’t cut her off now, Kate would continue to ramble until she ran out of breath completely. “Kate,” you laughed and put your hands on her shoulders to stop her from animatedly rambling. “I would be honored to go to your mom’s ‘fancier version of a frat party’ with you.”

She smiled at you with relief and joy evident on her face. Truthfully, you would’ve done anything she wanted to see her smile like that. What happened next though, definitely caught you by surprise. She hugged you, and for a brief second, you forgot that you were actually freezing in the frigid New York City weather. Luckily, your cheeks were already flushed from the cold, so she couldn’t see that you were furiously blushing.

“Thank you so much! You’re a lifesaver, seriously. I feel like I need to start keeping a list of all the things I owe you for.” she said as she pulled out of the hug. As soon as she left your embrace, she shivered. “Huh, you really are unusually warm.”

Kate pulled out her phone and handed it to you, “Put your number in and I’ll text you the details for tonight.” You entered your number and handed it back to her. Honestly, your brain had stopped working after she had pulled you in for a hug, so you were just hoping you spelt your name right in the contacts. “Alright, Kate, thanks for the food. I’ll be seeing you tonight then?”

“Yes, definitely! I’ll see you soon y/n!” Kate stated as she turned to leave. You waved goodbye and started walking towards the subway before you heard Kate’s voice yell: “Wait, y/n your hoodie!” You smiled and waved it off, “Keep it! Trust me it looks way better on you.” She blushed and yelled an “I owe you again” before walking off.

When you got on the subway, your phone chimed.

Maybe: Kate

Hey, y/n, it’s Kate! My mom’s soiree starts at 7:00pm tonight. I’m sending you the location. Just remember - it’s formal. Can’t wait to see you tonight!

You

It’s a date. I’ll see you there!

You looked down at your phone and replayed the events of last night and this morning in your head. You were definitely the luckiest person alive right now.

#kate bishop x y/n #kate bishop x you #kate bishop #kate bishop x reader #hailee steinfeld #hailee steinfield x reader #marvel #hawkeye

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anystalker707 · 3 years

Text

Pitchfork red

Pairing: Vampire! Gerard x [afab] Reader Word count: ~ 3 000 Genre: Smut Warning: Blood Summary: (Y/n) finally convinces Gerard to drink their blood and things get really spicy. Kind of content: Rough / Blood play / Masochism and sadism undertones

Requested by anon

It’s just another calm day, not one in which Gerard has to go hunting or I need to double check all the protection spells around the house. After all, there’s already a great quantity of blood stocked and we’re nowhere near a full moon, meaning we don’t have to keep looking through the windows every five seconds to make sure we don’t have any extra company, so we can actually sit down to read a book in peace or work on something else. Gerard disappeared some time ago when the clock marked three in the morning, probably going to work on one of his drawings, which he didn’t have time for since the beginning of the month.

I rest my palms on the doorsill to lean forward, inhaling the cold air, and observe the moonlight illuminating the fog rising from among the trees on top of the mountains surrounding the mansion. It was abandoned when we found it, still with old pictures of the old habitants and damaged by plants, rain and things of sort, but it wasn’t anything we couldn’t easily fix. Even if in the middle of the woods, it’s not all isolated since there’s a small city a few miles away and it’s near a hunting zone. We’re lucky, honestly.

“(Y/n)?” Gerard’s voice echoes down the hall, but I don’t really need to reply since his footsteps are heard seconds later; he hugs me from behind, pressing a kiss to my shoulder. “What’s in your mind?” He rests his chin on my shoulder, breath fanning against my neck.

“Nothing really. ‘M just observing. I think it’s going to rain soon.” I motion towards the mountains and bring one of my hands to rest it over his, and lean into his touch.

“Certainly.” Gerard presses a kiss to my jaw, and gently makes me turn around to face him; I wrap my hands around his neck. His face gains a yellow-ish tone under the candle’s light, shadows oscillating by the side of his face with the trembling flame that doesn’t reach the same pure and bright red color as his hair has. Fingertips trace the side of my face before he leans in, as cold as his lips feel against mine, but it’s something I easily learned to get used to.

“You done with your drawings?” I brush a strand of hair away from his face.

“Not really, I can’t think about anything…” He shrugs. “Art block again, but it’s alright, I can spend some time with you.”

“You spend time with me everyday,” I snort.

“And what are you gonna do if it’s not enough?” Gerard rolls his eyes playfully, hence I can’t help but to smile and kiss him shortly before he’s burying his face in the crook of my neck. He takes a deep breath, lips pressed against the side of my neck. His fangs never even lingered anywhere near my jugular, but I’m always wondering if he’ll always be able to hold himself back. Not that I’m doubting Gerard in his sane mind, no, he’s never attacked me even in his worst days, but the thought still occasionally crosses my mind, hence I avoid being anywhere near him whenever I have a cut or wound, which is stupid because he can hunt me down across the house after smelling the blood, if he wants.

“Why don’t you do it?”

“Do what?” Gerard pulls away, just enough to look at me in the eyes.

“Drink the blood.” I observe him carefully, his eyebrows raising and eyes widening with a little panic. “It’s not like I’ll end up turning or die that easily, not to mention you’re not anyone. I trust you even when you’re starving and I have to help you with something, not mattering if I have an open cut or not.” Sometimes I wonder what it’d be like to be an ordinary human able to turn into a blood-sucking creature, too, if I wasn’t born in a family of witches and alchemists. The blood simply doesn’t react so easily with the venom, only being a ‘protection’ for me and thankfully no harm to Gerard.

“What if I’m not able to stop myself?” Gerard exhales sharply, furrowing his eyebrows.

“You will be able to.” I cup his cheek, my thumb grazing over his cheekbone. “Not like I can’t stop you or anything. We’ve been together for almost two decades now, I know how to deal with you.”

“What are you going to do?” He raises an eyebrow while the corner of his lips threaten to curl up. “Throw garlic at me?”

I can’t help but to chuckle at the same time I want to hit him across the head.

“Fuck you, Gerard, I’m offering you fresh blood without risks!” I press my lips together, narrowing my eyes at him. “Are you really going to reject this, Gerard? Are you really refusing fresh blood and choosing that cold blood? Sometimes it even stays in the cellar for a whole week, and–”

My words are replaced by a quiet gasp at the moment Gerard’s pressing his lips to mine in a firm kiss, hands tight around my hips, and I don’t even resist, only pulling him closer. He nibbles down on my bottom lip, fangs grazing the skin but never breaking it.

“I’ll never hurt you,” he says softly.

“Then you’re a coward.”

The bedroom’s door slams shut behind us right after we stumble in – well, I stumble in since Gerard’s holding me so close and so tightly to keep our lips together, but he walks with such an ease and stability that I just can’t keep up with at some points. My back hits the mattress with a muffled sound, sinking by my thighs, under Gerard’s knees, as he climbs over me with a hand on the side of my neck to pull me to a kiss once again.

“You sure you won’t regret it?” Gerard’s a little breathless, lips still lingering against mine while his hands work on unbuttoning my shirt.

“Of course!” I roll my eyes, pausing to help him get rid of my shirt. “And I can always say the safeword, you know that. You know I trust you.”

Gerard hums, holding eye contact for a long moment. “And I trust you.”

Our lips are locked in a kiss once again, intense even if it lasts for the few seconds that Gerard needs to remove his jacket and then he pulls away, his shirt also thrown to the ground and it doesn’t take long until it’s just bare skin pressed to bare skin, cold lips trailing down from my lips to my chest.

“Gerard, I–”

“Not yet,” he mumbles, just pressing kisses and sucking onto the skin for now, so I let him, tangling my fingers with his hair to hold him close. Gerard’s hands run up and down my sides, such a simple motion that easily works the tension away and I melt under his touch, spreading my legs a little to give him more space. “I promise it’ll feel good, alright?” His eyes meet mine from under his eyelashes, carrying something so gentle along with all the lust, and only averts away after I nod lightly in response – no proper word even crosses my mind –, and he carries on with everything, fingertips running over my skin as if it were made out of thin glass or something even more delicate, making my heart flutter.

A hand slips between my thighs, thumb pressing along the inside of it before a finger slips past my lips, causing a tension that’s quickly eased with how Gerard holds onto my hip, grip firm and loving. His thumb traces my entrance before trailing up to rub against my clit, experimentally, only gaining more intensity after a moan escapes my lips, followed by continuous pleased sounds I just can’t contain with how he mouths at my chest.

“You smell so good, hun,” he mumbles against my chest, breath tickling the skin. “And I bet you taste just as delicious. Sometimes it’s so hard to contain myself, y’know? So hard not to just tackle you down and sink my teeth into your neck.” He sighs shakily.

“Should’ve grown the courage to do it before.” I tug on his hair – he groans instantly.

“And you should shut up before I fuck you hard and don’t let you cum,” he says softly but in a low tone, glaring at me with his eyes dark, their hazel tone barely visible anymore. My attempt of complaint only goes in vain with a couple of fingers slipping inside me at once, giving me no choice but to gasp with the burning feeling despite how gentle he is being. “Y’know, I’ll let the most special for the end,” he mutters, and I don’t really understand what he’s talking about until I feel a sharp but not intense pain down my stomach followed by a warm feeling and pull myself up lightly to see the small cut across the skin.

“Fuck,” I mumble, watching Gerard drag his nail a little lower to finally pull away and press his thumb down near the wound. He seems so lost with it, like it was the most mesmerizing thing in the world, letting the blood trail down my side before he leans in to run his tongue across the wound. Instead of the agonizing pain I expected, a moan escapes my throat almost involuntarily instead at the same time a shudder runs down my spine with how his tongue continues to work against the wound.

Then it happens again, pain spreading across the skin warmly with a fresh new cut across my chest, and I watch it happening this time. Gerard meets my gaze for a moment then his lips part into a grin at the moment the blood starts flowing, his fangs stained red, but a tone that isn’t as deep as the one smeared around his lips and trailing down the corner of his mouth.

Gerard is once again licking the cut, and I exhale shakily, letting my hand fall to the back of his neck. “You like it?” He looks at me from under his eyelashes, covered in fake innocence, and as much as I want to tell him how it makes me feel, I’m barely able to even nod in response – he presses his lips to mine, messily, quickly having the metallic taste fill my mouth, though it’s not long until he’s giving attention to the wound on my chest again, with his fingers moving inside me again this time, hence all I can do is melt under him with a shaky moan.

Gerard’s touches are lamentably replaced by the cold air hitting my skin and an empty feeling at the moment he pulls away, bringing himself up to his knees. He pushes his hair back, running his fingers through the bright red strands while looking at me with such hungry eyes that I forget how to breathe for a moment, only coming back to reality when he’s bending down to press his lips to mine, mostly sucking and nibbling on my lips before he turns me over, slowly and gently in spite of the urgency.

“You’re even better than I imagined, y’know that?” Gerard’s breath tickles the back of my neck as his thumbs trace my shoulder blades before his hands run down my back, eventually wrapping themselves around my hips, pulling them up. “I’ve really been wasting time, y’know that?” He nuzzles the back of my neck softly.

“Are you gonna stop talking and actually do something or do I have to make you do it?” I’m very much aware of how Gerard reacts to me challenging him, so I’m not even surprised when feeling his hands take a hold of my wrists to hold my arms together behind my back.

“You’re a bit too demanding to my taste, aren’t you?” he hums, the mattress shifting behind me as he kneels between my legs, leaning forward once again, so I push my hips back against his and snatch a groan from him. “You have a kink for blood or something? Or do you just want me to fuck you so bad?”

“What if it’s both?” I chuckle, interrupted by a moan at how Gerard grinds his hips against mine.

“Then you’re worse than I imagined,” Gerard says and I can hear the grin he has on while speaking, but I’m not really able to snap back, interrupted – once again – by feeling him finally actually push in this time. Gerard also falls silent, however, his words replaced by pleased sighs until he’s pushed in completely, already starting an unsteady and slow pace. “Happy?” he says bitterly, pulling himself up a little.

“Could be better,” I mumble and make sure to hold back a moan when he snaps his hips forward harshly.

“Shut the hell up,” he groans – I’d be laughing about the situation if it was different, but all I’m able to do now is give up to the feeling and finally allow myself to moan due to how he starts to move his hips faster, grip tightening around my forearms.

The harsher motion has me moving lightly against the mattress, my cheek rubbing lightly across the sheets in a discomfort that’s only momentary, easily becoming insignificant under the pleasure spreading across my body with each thrust. Aside from my moans and the sound of skin against skin, Gerard’s pleased sounds also fill the room along with soft groans now and then. Whatever he mumbles, quietly under his breath, isn’t comprehensible, but his thrusts become slower for a moment, the new angle snatching moans from both of us until he pauses and eventually lets go of my arms to take hold of my hips instead. Where his fingers once held now throb lightly, my muscles weak for a long moment.

Gerard swallows, exhaling slowly as he lets his fingers dig into the skin just for the warm pain to follow along with blood following once again, and fuck, how is Gerard that needy for the blood when he’s not even going to be hungry so soon? Maybe it’s not about being hungry, thirsty for blood.

The burning feeling of Gerard’s fingertips sinking into my wounds only makes the pleasure pool down in my lower stomach faster, hence I helplessly push my hips back against his, encouraging Gerard to start moving his hips again with a throaty moan escaping his lips.

“Oh, fuck,” I mumble to myself, struggling a little to bring myself up on my forearms, easily catching a glance of the blood trailing down the outer sides of my thighs to soak the sheets. “Gerard, hell, what a mess,” I breathe.

“What a hot mess,” he says with a weak chuckle, thumbs smearing the blood across my hips.

“But the– Damn,” I gasp, suddenly feeling Gerard’s hands around my torso to pull me up against him, easily snatching a moan from me with the new position since he doesn’t stop moving his hips; I arch my back against him, placing my hands over his. “G-Gerard, please, fuck– Do something, I–”

“Shhh…” Gerard’s breath fans against my neck, nose nuzzling a space behind my ear. “I’m saving the best for the end, and trust me, you’re going to love it.”

For some reason, all I can do is to melt against Gerard, even more at feeling his lips meet my neck to kiss and suck at the skin, which just makes me more anxious to feel his teeth sinking into the skin. The thought, however, vanishes from my mind, replaced by the feeling of Gerard’s fingers reaching between my legs to once again play with my clit, having my thighs quivering.

“If you keep like that– Ngh, I’m going to cum before you even do anything,” I say shakily, feeling the results from the foreplay catching up now.

Gerard chuckles deeply, into my ear. “I didn’t know you’d get so aroused with it, honey. Are you a masochist or do you just enjoy the blood? Because, fuck, you’re goddamn intoxicating.” His hips roll against mine deliciously as he speaks, having both of us moaning at the same time, voice tight with pleasure.

Despite my warning, Gerard’s fingers continue to trace my clit, stroking it just right and making my orgasm just feel closer and closer. “Fuck,” I almost sob, taking a hold of Gerard’s hand and sinking my nails into it, already feeling my thighs quiver, but at the same time, his teeth are finally piercing through the skin of my neck, triggering me to cum at the same moment, balancing the pain and the pleasure so perfectly that my mind becomes fuzzy, unable to focus on anything else for as long as my orgasm lasts.

Gerard’s words sound distant and incoherent while he helps me getting down from my high until I’m back lying on the mattress, and he slips out. A few moans escape his lips, forehead pressed to the space between my shoulder blades, and he’s coming over the back of my thighs and probably over his hand and the mattress too.

“Fuck, that felt so good,” Gerard mumbles, shifting lightly whilst I turn over and pull him for a kiss – he hums against my lips, quickly proceeding to kiss his way down to my neck and lick on the still open wound, which feels weirdly good, the opposite of all the warnings I received about about the bites. I slip my fingers between his hair strands, pressing Gerard closer and he groans with it, which echoes against the skin before he’s pulling away, running his tongue over it messily to press his lips to mine again and the metallic taste is stronger this time – I sigh, pressing my tongue to his.

“We need to do that more often.”

Gerard grins. “Of course.”

________________________

Tagging list: @lubbockshusband

#my post #fan fic #fanfiction #mcr #mcr x reader #x reader #gerard way x reader #my chemical romance #gerard way #vampire #writing #sm*t #imagine #oneshot

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fleur-de-violette · 2 years

Text

To fight against time and win

A3O

Summary:

“How much time do you have?” Batman asks.

Dick thinks there might be some kind of poetry in being asked that while being chained to a giant clock and slowly pulled into the harbor, but he doesn’t really have it in him to find it.

He will drown soon, but there are hostages who need Batman. So he does what he has to do.

“Enough.”

He lies.

Note:

Hi, this was supposed to be a quick one shot and then suddenly it was 8k long. I love writing.

Warnings for fear of death, drowning, respiratory illness, and guilt. As Bruce doesn’t have the best way to process guilt, extra warnings for unhealthy coping mechanisms and violence toward inanimate objects.

This is absolutely medically inaccurate. If someone drowns, take them to the hospital.

Hope you’ll enjoy the fic!

Dick knows how to appreciate the beauty in things. He grew up watching and appreciating performances. He was dragged into every museum Gotham and the neighboring cities had to offer by his school as a teenager, and traveled around the world, with his parents first, and then with Bruce, rarely for vacation, occasionally for business trips, and more often for bat-business trips. He traveled a little bit more on his own and with the Titans.

He’s not insensitive to the beauty of things. And he can say the clock is a work of art. It’s huge, decorated by metallic ornaments, probably lead, tin, silver, and gold. The mechanism is visible, and it is itself impressive. A chain is linked around one of the cogs, slowly rolling around it. It is also linked to somewhere under the sea, probably at the bottom of the harbor. And it is also, unfortunately, attached to his left ankle.

He’s slowly being pulled down into Gotham harbor water by a chain. And this is really hindering his ability to appreciate art.

The worst thing is, he’s not even that opposed to the people who put him into this situation, in principle. They’re a new group, going after corrupt politicians, and Dick would be all for that if they had chosen to expose them through journalism, social media, rumors, or anything really, rather than dumping a bunch of officials into the ocean. He miscalculated the size of the group and got hit pretty hard in the head by a teenager with a baseball bat. When he woke up, he was in the harbor, attached to a shortening chain that pulled him into the water within minutes.

The style, the not-killing-him-but-rather-putting-him-through-an-elaborate-machine thing remains him of the Riddler, except, as far as he knows, Nygma is currently secured in Arkham, and his riddles are solvable. Dick has nothing with him to help him escape. This isn’t a riddle: this is a torture device. He’s pretty sure he’s not supposed to get out of it. The only reason he’s even been able to call for backup is because he has a hidden communicator on him. It’s just him and Batman tonight; Robin, Batgirl and Black Bat are in New Zealand, assisted by Oracle on a special mission. Dick first saw this as both a chance for Damian to get out of his father’s shadow while still being surrounded by his family and a chance for Bruce and Tim to work together, like old good times. While the first point still stands, the second had been cut short a few days ago by an altercation with Killer Croc that had ended with a broken arm. Tim had been confined to the comms until his injury healed, and Dick had offered to come to Gotham, as Blüdhaven was currently quiet. Or, as quiet as it can be.

“I see the harbor,” comes his father’s voice into his ear. “ETA 1 minute.”

Dick smiles despite the situation. “Hostages are in the north area, on a black and white ferry. Be careful.”

He hears a grunt of acknowledgement. “How much time do you have?”

Dick swallows. This is actually an excellent question. How much time does he have? It’s not only the shortening chain and the rising tide that are a problem, but also the fact that he’s holding himself above water while being concussed, and has a very real risk of hypothermia, despite the early spring weather they had in the last weeks.

But the chain is still long enough for him to float, even if it gets shorter by the minute. Besides, he chose to put himself in danger and, as corrupted as the hostages supposedly are, they didn’t. “Enough for you to get them out safely and then come back to free me. Don’t worry about it.”

Another grunt. Batman doesn’t like this kind of information, too vague to do anything with it. But Dick won’t give him a time limit and risk both of them being captured because his father had been worried.

The comms are silent after that. Dick wishes Bruce or Tim would keep him updated with how the hostage situation is going because he can’t deal with staying there alone with his thoughts. With every second that passes, he worries about his father, and he worries about himself. He tries to work on the shackle holding his ankle, but, as before, he can’t get it open. Most of his tools had been removed when he’d been captured, and even with them, he’s not sure he would have been able to break the chain. His best shot would be to remove it from the clock, but there is no way he can reach that far.

Soon, the chain forces him to get his leg back underwater and he can’t work on the shackle, unless he wants to dive. He chooses against it. It’s not like he was going anywhere, and he has the feeling he will be underwater for too long for his liking soon, anyway.

It’s fine. He has time. Bruce is probably freeing the hostages by now. Then he will come and save him, Alfred will worry about the concussion, about how long he stayed in the water and any damage done to his ankle, and then he will have a cup of tea and a nice plate of whatever Alfred has prepared as a post-patrol meal, maybe watch a movie or play a game with Tim afterwards.

It’s fine. He will be fine. He’s been in plenty of bad situations before. But he really wishes he could have an update from Bruce, while being scared to ask for it.

The chain on his leg gets taut. The real countdown starts now. He watches the horizon for something, anything, from Batman coming back to the GCPD arriving to an unexpected bystander with a saw ready to help him. But the harbor is empty, and he can only hear the quiet waves and maybe a seagull or two.

His hand hovers over his communicator. He wants to open it, he wants to say something, just in case. But what could he say, without taking the risk of distracting Bruce? What even are his options?

Some part of him wants to say,

I chose this. I’m happy with this situation and no one forced me to become anything. Being Robin, being Nightwing, was one of the best things that ever happened to me. I don’t know what I would have become without it. I knew dying was a possibility from the start and I accepted it. I have no regrets.

And, while this is true, some part of him wants to say,

I have so many regrets. I’m sorry. It feels like giving you up, but I know you guys can survive without me. I love you. I love you all so much. Do you know how much I love you? How proud I am to call you my father, to call everyone my family? How sad I am to have to leave you? You’ll be okay, I swear. I love you, I’m sorry.

And then there is another part of him, one he’s not proud of, that wants to say,

I don’t want to die. Please come back for me. If you leave the hostages, you might still have time, please, I’m sorry I lied, please save me and tell me everything will be okay. I need you. Please help me.

He takes his hand off his communicator.

It’s fine. He still has time. Maybe one minute until he’s underwater, and then, he’s trained to hold his breath. His best is seven minutes and twenty-two seconds. That gives Bruce enough time to get back to him. Afterwards, the chances for a non-lethal drowning are about 95% during the first minute, 25% after six minutes, and fall to 3% after 8 minutes, with an increasing risk of permanent brain damage every minute. He knows the theory. In practice, it means he’s trying to gain time. To keep his head above water for as long as he can, taking a breath when the waves allow him to. Until, finally, the chain pulls him definitively under water.

He starts a mental countdown.

Seven minutes and twenty-two seconds.

He remembers the day he broke his record, in the batcave. It was pure spite, at that time, that pushed him. A profound desire to do better than Bruce’s seven minutes and nineteen seconds record. Back then, he hadn’t fought a bunch of people, gotten himself a concussion, and spent an unknown amount of time keeping himself afloat in the Gotham Sea. But this is irrelevant.

Seven minutes

Here is the worst thing about being chained to a shortening chain. He can see the surface, if he swims toward it, he might even be able to get his hands out. But he can’t get his head out of the water. There is something frustrating about it. Maybe that’s why the machine is designed that way, so he can see his salvation, so close, and yet unreachable.

Six minutes

The clock imagery had never been more relevant, he thinks as his chest starts burning, pleading him to take a breath. This isn’t a battle against the organization that captured him, at this point. This is a battle against time. And he’s not alone in this fight. While he’s fighting to stretch time, to hold on to his air, Bruce is somewhere, fighting to get him in time. Any moment now, the chain could let him go. It’s just a question about what will happen first. Unfortunately, time, much like gravity, is cruel and unwavering.

Five minutes

He will hold on. He won’t let Bruce have to tell Damian he’s dead when the child comes back. Not again, never again. Even by pure will, he will hold on. He will survive this and go back to his family. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much he wants to breathe. He will survive this.

Four minutes

He should have said something, earlier. He should have found something to say to Bruce, or to Tim. Not let his last words be about something mission related. He should have told him something, anything. At least to let him know his time was running out.

Three minutes

Maybe there could have been another way? Maybe Gordon could have taken care of the hostages while Bruce freed him? He knows it’s selfish, but he’s dying. Could he be a little selfish?

Two minutes

Do these people even deserve him to die for them anyway? Sacrifice for sacrifice, he could at least have died for someone he loves or someone who would save thousands of lives in return. He knows that is just pain and fear talking, but still. This is so unfair.

One minute

Nothing exists other than pain now. Pain and the will to live. He’s not even afraid anymore.

Forty-six seconds

He’s supposed to still have time. He’s supposed to still have forty-six seconds. He’s supposed to still be able to hold his breath. And yet, his body disrespects his commands, pain overtaking over the will to live. His mouth opens for him to take a breath full of seawater. He doesn’t have time to choke on it, already on the verge of unconsciousness.

The last thing he sees before his world fades is a shadow above the water. Some part of him distantly thinks Batman is back, and another reminds him this could very much be a hallucination of his oxygen deprived brain.

But it doesn’t matter, because soon, the shadow disappears, along with everything else.

It’s pain that wakes him up. Crawling from his chest to his throat to his head, unbearable pressure threatening to split him in two. His eyes shoot open and before he can fully process what’s going on he’s on his side, vomiting seawater and what’s probably half of his stomach. He coughs, spits, and tries desperately to get this to stop. But water keeps coming, and he can feel his face covered in spit, tears, and half of the ocean. After what seems to be a small eternity, the pain eases, leaving him shaking and panting, unable to move. That’s when he realizes there is a hand in his hair, a gentle voice soothing him.

Now that he thinks about it, there are other voices and flashing lights. He doesn’t really know what’s going on, but Batman is here, above him like the gargoyles that protect the city. The cape looms over him, his own personal protection against the world.

They did it. They won against time. He wants to say he never had any doubts about it; Batman and Robin can overcome anything, after all. Except the adult part of him knows both statements are false, and he and Bruce haven’t been Batman and Robin for years now. But it doesn’t really matter because when he opens his mouth, all that comes out is a strangled wheeze.

“Shh,” says Batman, or Bruce, he can’t really be sure when his father takes that voice. “Don’t try to talk. I’m getting you out of here. Let me know if anything feels wrong.”

He barely has time to process what had been said to him before he’s lifted in the air, his head spinning as his body touches Batman’s armor. Something tugs on his left foot, and for a second panics blossom in his brain. He can feel himself being taken away from his father’s arms and pulled back into the ocean. But, as Batman walks away, the weight on his foot follows quietly. He risks opening his eyes only to see the chain, dangling from his ankle, but broken.

“What’s happening?” he murmurs. There are cars, the GCPD? What about the hostages? What about the organization? Most of the people Dick fought were very young, there has to be a leader manipulating them somewhere.

“You’re okay,” is all the only answer he gets.

He blinks, and he’s on his side in the Batmobile. There is something on his face, and it takes him a second to identify it as the portable oxygen mask they keep in here. Bruce is talking to someone on the radio, possibly Tim or Alfred, but when the car starts moving and Dick has to pull off the mask to dry heave in a bucket that was conveniently placed near him, he’s by his side in an instant.

Dick thinks he says something, but the meaning is lost even to him. He’s exhausted and cold, and he just wants the pain to stop.

“I know,” Bruce says. “Just let me get you to the cave, then you can sleep.”

This is a lie. Dick knows all too well the procedures after a drowning. The tests will last forever, and he won’t be able to rest just yet. But he doesn’t call his father out on it and instead lets himself be dragged out of the Batmobile and to a cot as soon as they reach the cave.

From the corner of his eyes, he can see Tim gravitating around him, gathering supplies under Alfred’s direction.

“I’m okay,” Dick says. It might have been more convincing if his voice was louder than an airy murmur.

Tim gives him what he probably thinks is a comforting smile, but it looks more like a grimace. “I know.”

And then he just disappears behind Alfred, and Dick lets his surrogate grandfather get him out of his wet uniform and into the warm post-patrol clothes he has in the cave. He then dutifully lets him listen to his lungs and shine a penlight in his eyes. He gives his arm for an IV, answers the questions to the best of his capacity, and forces himself to stay awake for the rest of the tests.

All this time, while Tim offers words of encouragement and concern from time to time, Bruce stays silent and stone-faced. There is something wrong, but Dick doesn’t have the energy to do anything about it now. As soon as Alfred gives him the all clear and helps him lie back down on the cave cot, Batman takes his foot to work on the cuff. Not Bruce, Batman. The hands are gentle but professional.

“Where are you?” Dick asks.

“I’m here,” Bruce reassures him, but he’s not, not really. He’s protecting himself, pushing his feelings away. Dick knows it all too well.

But he doesn’t have time to tell him all that, because he definitely loses his fight to stay awake, sleep welcoming him in its arms like a long-lost lover.

Dick wakes up with a breath stuck in his throat. He coughs, and slowly sits up, massaging his aching chest. He closes his eyes and tries to take deep calming breaths, trying to leave whatever nightmare had woken him up behind him without aggravating his lungs. After a while, he feels comfortable opening his eyes again. Tim is by the computer and hadn’t moved during his little freak out. There is no one else in the cave.

He takes the medical report that is lying next to his bed. He reads the information, half-expecting what he finds. Mild concussion, several broken ribs from CPR. The IV in his arm is rehydrating him as well as supplying antibiotics to avoid pneumonia, or at least preventing it from being too bad. With water from the Gotham Harbor in his lungs, Dick has little hope he won’t be feeling like death warmed over in a few days, despite Alfred’s best efforts.

He’ll probably have to do another cognitive test sometime soon, but the results from one from the night before were as good as could be expected. He knew his brain wasn’t too damaged, but this still lifts a weight off his shoulders. He puts down the paper and carefully puts his feet on the cold cave floor, mindful of the left one, where the shackle left an angry red bruise. After a second, he gets up. He waits for a moment for his head to stop spinning and makes his way toward the computer, hand on the IV pole.

“What are you doing out of bed?” Tim asks without turning around, typing one-handed on the batcomputer.

Dick wants to return the question, but when he tries to talk, his throat closes on the world, and all he can get is a small croak. Tim moves a thermos toward him as he sits down heavily in front of an unused computer. He unscrews the top, half expecting to find coffee, and is pleasantly surprised when he smells thyme and honey. He pours himself a mug and takes small sips, feeling the hot and sweet water soothe his throat.

“You’re not seriously going to write a report now?” Tim asks when he opens the blank document they use to write their mission reports.

Dick shrugs. “The group was way bigger than I expected, and they were mostly teenagers and young adults. Someone is manipulating them, and I want to know how they did to recruit so many people so fast.” He takes a sip of the infusion when his voice threatens to break. “And then there are the victims. Are they really corrupted, and how did the organization know about them?”

Tim’s chair turns toward him. “I would have made that mistake too. With the information we had, I would have underestimated their number, just like you. So would’ve everybody else.”

Dick raises an eyebrow, silently asking his brother his point.

“It wasn’t your fault. You know that, right?”

Dick shrugs. Sure, it’s never pleasant to make such a mistake, but he knows this isn’t entirely on him. He wonders why Tim would assume it, before his eyes find the report page. Right. But he’s not punishing himself, not really. He just needs to do this so Batman can safely take over the case.

“I’m okay, kiddo,” he says quietly. Some time passes, the silence of the cave disturbed only by the sound of their keyboards, as well as the occasional screeching from the bats and coughing from Dick, before Tim says, “I know.”

Some more time passes, and Dick is about halfway through his report when he says, “It wasn’t your fault, either.”

Some more silence, before Tim repeats, “I know.” He stays silent some more, working on the computer, before muttering, “It’s just... I wasn’t there.”

Dick turns his chair. “Tim, you have a broken arm. You were on comms, and you coordinated the GCPD and paramedics.” Or at least Dick assumes he did. “And even if you had left the cave when I sent the distress signal, which would have been incredibly stupid considering you’re injured, you wouldn’t have made it to the harbor in time.” Because this is what it all falls down to, in the end: time. The large hands of the clock deciding his fate. If Batman had arrived only a minute or two later…

But he didn’t, and Dick chases the uncomfortable thought from his head. “You did the right thing, Timmy. And it turned out alright.” It almost didn’t, but it turned out alright.

Dick continues his report and sips the infusion after that. He writes automatically, not really thinking about what he’s doing, well trained from thousands of mission and patrol reports. When he’s finished, he takes a deep breath. “Where is Bruce?”

Dick hopes he didn’t just go back on patrol, but knowing Bruce, this was a very real possibility. That is, if it’s still night. He doesn’t know how long he slept for, and there is no way to tell the time in the cave. Time, again.

Tim makes a face. “In the training room.”

Dick has to hold back a sigh, if anything because it would only aggravate his chest. He’d known Bruce for years now, and he knows how he acts when he’s upset. “I’ll go see him,” he says, standing up carefully.

Tim opens his mouth but thinks again before saying whatever it is he wanted to say. Maybe Dick doesn’t have to go confront Bruce, but they both know he will do it anyway.

Dick ruffles Tim’s hair as he passes behind him. “Go to sleep, Timmy.”

Tim snorts. “You don’t even know what time it is.”

Dick smiles. “No, but I know you.”

His little brother let out a long-suffering sigh. “It will be lunch time soon, anyway. No point in sleeping now.”

Dick hums. It’s good to have at least an idea of the time of the day. “You should take a nap after lunch, then. I’m guessing you haven’t slept much since yesterday.” He knows his family. It’s not exactly their style to leave him unsupervised in the cave after he drowned and go to their usual activities. He hopes Alfred, at least, had gotten some rest while Tim and Bruce were watching over him. “Wait, it was yesterday, right? I’m not missing an entire day?”

Tim shakes his head, sadly all too used to waking up confused after a disastrous patrol to make fun of his older brother. “No, you just slept through the night and the morning.”

Dick hums again, coughs in his fist. “I’ll go see Bruce. Call if you need anything.”

Tim hits him lightly in the arm. “That’s my line.”

Dick walks slowly into the training room. Bruce is exactly where he expected him to be. Wearing only the pants and boots of the Batman uniform, he’s fighting against one of the machines that sends tennis balls at high speed toward them, in hard mode. Dick winces when his father blocks one of the balls with his forearm, sending it flying toward the opposite direction. It wouldn’t even leave a bruise with the Batman suit on, but on his bare arm? That’s got to hurt.

“How long have you been down there?” Dick asks. He doesn’t know if his father could have heard him over the sound of the machine if Batman’s senses hadn’t been trained to the very limit of human capacity. But they have, and Bruce quickly turns off the equipment and turns toward him.

“You should be in bed,” he says, giving Dick that look.

Dick sits down on one of the chairs. “Well, I’m here. You didn’t answer my question.”

Bruce takes a towel and starts drying his sweat-covered hair as he goes sit next to Dick. “I’m glad you’re okay, chum.”

Dick grimaces. Still not an answer. Meaning Bruce has been here longer than he’s comfortable admitting. The bruises on his arm and chest only support this theory. Maybe Dick wasn’t punishing himself by writing a report with a concussion and maybe Tim wasn’t punishing himself by staying awake all night, but Bruce definitely was by training for too long and unprotected.

“Yeah, thanks to you. You got me in time.”

Bruce’s face twists. There it is. “I almost didn’t. You were…”

Cold. Not breathing. Bruce doesn’t have to finish. Dick has saved enough people, civilians or other heroes, from drowning. He knows how hard it can be to think you’re too late, to think maybe the last rescue breath should be the one where you accept that death has won and stop.

Dick puts his shoulder on Bruce’s. His sweatshirt touches bare skin, but he knows Bruce can still feel the warmth beneath the clothes. “I’m okay, now.” He bites back another cough that wouldn’t help his case. This is starting to become annoying, but he knows the coughing will linger for a moment, still.

Bruce moves away from his contact. Whatever moment they had is now over. “There are still some risks. You should go see Alfred for a checkup and eat something. It will be some time until you’re back at full capacity.”

Dick sighs. “You should go upstairs too. You know, have some food, maybe see the sun. Take Tim with you. But before that, B, you should really take a shower.”

Bruce mutters something that sounds like “brat” and Dick smiles as he makes his way into the manor.

“Have you had any sleep at all?” Dick asks as Alfred puts a stethoscope on his chest, frowning at what he hears.

“It’s my job to worry about you, not the other way around,” says the old man, but he smiles kindly. “I did rest for a few hours. And by the look of you, I suggest you do the same after lunch. You need all the energy you can get.”

Dick nods. He woke up not an hour ago, yet he can still feel himself ready to go back to sleep. “I’ll try to blackmail Tim into getting some sleep, too.” He doesn’t think he can do anything about Bruce. If anyone has any chance of getting him to nap, it’s Alfred, not him.

“Will you stay in the manor? At least for a few days?”

Dick looks away. “Alfred…”

“Please. After the scare Master Bruce and Master Tim had, I think it would do both of them some good to have you home for a moment.” Tim had already decided he would stay at the manor until his arm healed, or at least until Damian came back.

Dick sighs. He always had a hard time saying no to Alfred. Some part of his mind rationalizes that even if he went back to Blüdhaven now, he won’t be in any shape to do effective vigilante work. He should probably ask in the Titans group chat if anyone is available to do a few rounds in his city, check if everything is still as quiet as when he left it.

“And I really would like to keep an eye on your lungs. It’s easier to do so if you stay here.”

Dick puts his hand on Alfred’s shoulder. “I’ll stay,” he says. It’s not as if things are as bad now as they once were with Bruce, and it’s still an occasion to spend some exclusive time with Tim, even if this kind of thing only seems to happen when one or both of them are injured.

Alfred frees him from the IV, switching him to oral medicine instead, as he can eat and drink alright. Thoughtful as ever, the butler had also prepared a special meal for him, which he eats under Bruce’s hawk gaze. His father restrains himself from any comment about how little he eats during lunch, and Dick is grateful for that. He knows Bruce’s words sometimes sound like reproach even if they come from a place of concern, but he doesn’t have the energy to be patient now.

When lunch is over and everything was put away, Dick finds Tim exactly where he expected him to be: by the coffeemaker. He stops his brother’s hand before he can touch the appliance. “No. Nap for you.”

Tim snorts. “It’s not like coffee is going to prevent me from sleeping.”

Dick knows it all too well. Coffee had kept him awake for maybe a year or so after he started drinking it until habituation set in, nullifying the effect entirely. He stopped drinking it after that, never a fan of the taste. He assumes it’s the same for Tim, except for the fact that his little brother actually likes bitterness.

He pulls Tim’s sleeve toward him. “Still. Come on, let’s go to my room.”

Their rooms are all big enough so several people can sleep in them at the same time, and it’s not the first time they will be sleeping in the same bed. Plus, he knows Tim. If he wants his brother to actually sleep, he has to keep an eye on him.

“You took your meds?” he asks when he sees his younger brother massaging his arm with a grimace.

“I’m good,” is all Tim says, though whether it means he took the painkillers and they just hadn’t acted yet or he decided against medication is anyone’s guess.

When they finally reach his room, Dick lets himself fall on his bed, winded by the small trip, then pulls Tim’s hand to make him sit. “Give me your phone, I don’t know where mine is,” he asks, almost petulantly. Tim doesn’t say anything and hands him the device. Dick opens the music app and finds a quiet soft playlist to put on.

He would be satisfied in falling asleep like that and think about everything else later, but, apparently, Tim isn’t. He’s still seated on the bed, his eyes open and firmly on the ground.

“What’s going on in that big head of yours, Timmy?” Dick whispers.

Tim shakes his head. “It’s nothing,” he says, then turns around to give Dick what he probably thinks is a reassuring smile. “Go to sleep.”

Dick pulls on Tim’s arm again, making him lie down next to him. “What’s going on?” he asks again.

Tim closes his eyes. “I read your report,” he finally says, his voice barely audible.

“And?” Dick asks in the same tone.

“And I know the hostages. I saw them several times, during events for Wayne Tech or galas and stuff.”

Dick hums. He’s not surprised. Some of the names reminded him of something, but he never kept as good a track on Gotham high society as Bruce or Tim.

His brother opens his eyes. “Dick, none of these people would have lifted a finger to save you unless they had something to gain from it. They will probably find a way to play the whole event in their favor, without so much as a thanks to you and Batman, or the GCPD and Gotham General paramedics, for that matter.”

Dick stays silent for a moment, letting Tim gather his thoughts. After a while, Tim sighs and starts talking again. “I guess… I know it’s selfish, but when your comm went silent and your vitals started dropping, and all I could do was just sit there and do nothing, I just wondered… you know… why does it have to be us?”

Dick brings his hand to Tim’s head, moving a stray hair out of his brother’s face. “We saved a lot of people,” he answers. It feels weak, even to him.

“I know, I know. And it’s not all bad, but times like yesterday… I wish things were different, and sometimes it just feels so unfair.”

He sighs again. “I know it sounds childish-”

“It’s not,” Dick cuts him off. “It’s not childish.” He could say a beautiful speech, about how they’re heroes and they’re saving lives every day, about how it’s their calling, but Tim deserves the truth.

“When I was in the harbor, I also thought… that maybe if Batman hadn’t gone for the hostages first, he could have saved me, that maybe I was going to die for some assholes. But I chose this. I’m risking my life because I think this is the best thing I can do. For others, but also for myself. It’s easy for me to say, because it was me chained to that clock, and not one of you. But… I had these thoughts, too. And it won’t stop me from going back out tomorrow. Because it might be unfair sometimes. But sometimes, you see someone you saved, and you think: this is worth it.”

He’s a little winded by the time he finishes what ended up being more or less an epic speech about how they’re heroes and it’s their calling, but he knows Tim got the idea. His brother smiles. “Well, maybe not tomorrow.”

“Maybe not tomorrow,” Dick agrees. He takes a tissue and coughs some mucus on it, as if his body is trying to prove his point.

“But thanks,” Tim says. “I know all that, but sometimes, I guess it’s worth a reminder. Sorry, you’re the one who almost died, I should be cheering you up, not the other way around.”

Dick can feel himself drifting. Maybe talking too much was a bad idea. “Must have been terrible to watch,” he mumbles. “But I’m okay now. I’m here.”

Tim says something in return, but Dick is already too far gone to hear it.

When he wakes up, he’s alone, but the other side of the bed is unmade and still warm, so he hopes Tim has at least gotten some sleep. A quick look at his alarm clock informs him it’s late afternoon. Duke is probably back from his day patrol by now.

After a quick run into Alfred, he’s informed that Tim, Bruce and Duke, are in the cave. He goes down, overhearing the conversation before he reaches the place.

“I’ll see what I can do, look for clues during the day, see if I can find anything about the leader,” says Duke.

Bruce’s reply is immediate. “Do not, under any circumstances, engage. These people are dangerous and not to be apprehended alone.”

A quick look at the computer’s screen shows him his report and research from the previous night. “You’re working my case without me?”

The three of them turn toward him.

Duke swallows. “You were still sleeping. We didn’t want to-”

Dick cuts him with a hand wave, sitting on one of the chairs. “It’s fine, it’s not as if I’ll be on the field anytime soon anyway.” He’s out of breath from the short trip from his room to the cave and the pain in his chest hadn’t lessened the slightest during his nap. Even he knows he can’t reasonably go back to his night job like that. “Though, I still think we’re missing someone.”

Bruce raises an eyebrow at him. Dick looks from him to Tim to Duke. If nobody is going to say it, he might as well do. “You said it yourself, they’re too dangerous to be apprehended alone. I made that mistake, and I paid the price.” Bruce winces, but Dick isn’t one not to play all the cards he has in hand. “We need someone to do the day patrols, that would be Duke, and someone to do the night, where they are more likely to show up. That’s you. You can’t expect Duke to do both day and night.” The kid looks like he’s about to argue but Dick shuts him up with a look. There are enough people who don’t care about their own wellbeing in this family as it is. “Tim and I are injured. But you still need someone with you.”

The cave stays silent for a minute or two, all of them understanding the implication, before Tim takes his side. “Dick is right. We should call Red Ho-”

“No.”

Dick groans. “Are you guys fighting again?” He turns toward Tim and Duke. “Are they fighting again?”

Tim shakes his head and Duke whispers a “not that I know of.”

Dick turns toward Bruce. “What is it then?”

“We are not calling Red Hood. Period.”

Dick sighs. This is not a fight he’s ready to lose. “Look, I know you guys have your differences, but Jason has been doing really well lately. You didn’t have any problem calling him last week if I hadn’t offered my help to patrol in Gotham. Why now? This is the best thing to do, and you know it.”

He can see in the lines of Bruce’s face that he’s starting to get angry. Well, he can get as angry as he wants, Dick isn’t going to change his mind unless he understands Bruce’s point. “We are not calling Hood.”

Tim opens his mouth, closes it, opens it again. “Is that because you were almost too late to save Dick? It brought back bad memories and now you don’t want to see Jason?”

Dick turns toward Tim. That actually makes a lot of sense. When he turns back to Bruce, the man gets up abruptly and walks aggressively toward the training room. Duke gets up, but Dick stops him. “I’ll handle this.”

One of the training dummies is going to have to be replaced, Dick thinks grimly as he hears the sound coming from the room. He leans on the wall. “I’m okay,” he says. “You got me in time.” His voice breaks toward the end, and he has to take a tissue to cough in it. Okay, maybe he’s not as okay as he wants to pretend, but he’s getting there.

“I almost didn’t,” Bruce responds, a repeat of their conversation in the same room, earlier in the day.

“But you did. I’m okay. And so is Jason. I know in his case this is different, but somehow, he’s here and alive. You can’t act as if he’s still in that tomb, because he isn’t.”

Bruce doesn’t say anything and keeps hitting the training dummy. He knows what Dick’s telling him; they both know it.

“And it will probably be hard to see him, I don’t doubt it, but it’s also the right thing to do given the situation. You need someone to help you with that case. People’s lives are at stake. We have to make the most logical choice.”

“You think I don’t know that!?” Bruce yells, and the training dummy flies a few feet away from Dick. “You think I don’t know we have to make the most logical decision even if everything in us tells us to do otherwise?!”

Dick has the feeling his father isn’t talking about Jason anymore. He suddenly can’t breathe for a reason that has nothing to do with the state of his lungs. Bruce takes a step toward him; all anger seems to have evaporated from his body. “I need you to know. I wanted to go back to you, I really did. I wanted to turn around and free you, hostages be damned.”

“But you couldn’t,” Dick says in a strangled voice.

Bruce closes his eyes. He let the next words out almost painfully. “But I couldn’t. We didn’t know how much time the hostages had, and I…”

He trails off. “I understand,” Dick murmurs.

Bruce’s hand closes on his arm. “I know you do. Maybe that’s even worse.”

Dick doesn’t know what he can say to that. The truth: that he was scared and wanted his father, would only hurt Bruce even more. But he doesn’t have it in him to lie. “Let’s call Jay,” is all he says.

Bruce nods and they make their way back to the main room of the cave together. To their surprise, Tim and Duke are already on the phone with Jason.

“You guys didn’t waste time,” Dick says, sitting back on his chair.

Tim shrugs. “We know you. There was no way it would have ended otherwise. I also asked Alfred to add a share to dinner, so Jay, I guess you better leave now if you don’t want to be late.”

“Who told you I was coming to dinner? I agreed to help with the case, that’s all,” says Jason’s voice from the phone.

“I mean,” says Tim, “you could skip dinner, but Alfred would probably be disappointed.”

Jason curses, maybe insults Tim, and cuts the line. Tim turns toward Bruce. “Is that okay?”

Bruce sighs. “That’s okay. Thank you, Timmy.”

“All in all, you don’t look dead,” is all the greeting Dick gets from Jason as his brother enters the manor, just in time for dinner. “I would have been pretty upset if you were: that’s my thing. It’s trademarked.”

“Yeah, speaking of that,” Dick whispers, “Could you go easy on the death jokes with B tonight?”

Jason gasps dramatically. “You can’t ask me that, it’s like asking a fish not to swim.”

Dick hits him in the ribs. “Come on, at least try?”

“I’ll see what I can do,” is all Jason says as he takes his seat for dinner.

The dinner is what he’s expecting it to be after that. Tim and Duke do most of the conversation, Jason chiming in here and there, mostly to give obviously bad ideas. Dick watches Bruce’s gaze, going from Jason to him. His father seems more relaxed than he had been in the cave. That might just be a front, or maybe seeing Jason, reassuring himself that his second son is back for good, actually did him some good. Dick hopes it’s the latter, but knowing Bruce, he might never know.

Dick tries to keep up with the conversation, but he’s not sure how much success he has in that. Despite having slept for most of the day, he’s still exhausted. He blames the fear, the concussion, the pain, and the incessant coughing for that. He zones out more and more as the dinner progresses. This, apparently, isn’t lost on Alfred, as the old man asks him to follow him into the medical wing after they said goodbye to Duke for the night.

“You have a low-grade fever,” his surrogate grandfather informs him after a quick exam. “And I don’t like the sound of that cough.”

“I’ll be okay, Alfred,” is all Dick can say.

The old man smiles. “I know you will. You’re healthy and fit. You will bounce back in no time. But in the meantime, let an old man take care of you.”

Dick looks away. He feels bad doing nothing as Bruce and Jason take over his case. As if reading his thoughts, Alfred says, “Do not worry, Master Bruce and Master Jason are both experienced vigilantes. I’m sure they will get this thing sorted out and come back in one piece. Plus, they work well together.”

Dick snorts. “Don’t let either of them hear you say that.”

The butler gives him a knowing smile. “That’s why I’m saying it to you. Come on. Off to bed.”

Alfred takes his arm and guides him back upstairs. He helps him settle to bed and comes back a little later, one of Bruce’s vests and his sewing box in hands. “I thought I could stay with you, if that’s okay,” he explains. “I have a button to sew back, and I always appreciate company.”

Dick smiles, nodding. Alfred doesn’t need the company as much as he does, but he doesn’t say anything. Instead, he let himself be lured to sleep by the sound of thread against fabric and Alfred’s focused breathing.

Just as he’s about to drift, he feels lips on his forehead, and hears the familiar voice of his grandfather saying, “You’re okay, my boy. You don’t have to take the weight of the world on your shoulders.”

He wants to tell Alfred that neither does he, but he’s asleep before the words pass his lips.

Things are fuzzy when he wakes up. He doesn’t know what time it is, or what’s going on. His chest feels tight, and he thinks he calls for help, but he’s not sure if anyone hears him.

He blinks, and he’s in the cave. The IV is back, and so is the oxygen mask. He wonders for a second if he ever left at all. Did he live the previous day?

He blinks again, and he sees Tim. His brother is saying something to him, but it’s like he’s underwater. Why would Tim be underwater, Dick is the one who drowned. But he got out, Batman got him out, Batman won against time. He knows that. He knows Bruce saved him. He’s not… it was real.

He’s not underwater anymore. He’s safe. He’s safe.

He calls for Bruce, or he thinks he calls for Bruce, and his father’s face appears next to him.

He closes his eyes and lets go. He doesn’t understand what’s going on, but there is a child-like belief, something time had drowned but that sometimes resurfaces: he will be okay as long as Bruce is here. As long as Batman is here.

Batman’s got him, and he’s safe.

“Are you actually awake this time?”

Dick blinks, and Jason’s face clears. Yes, he thinks he’s actually awake.

He groans. “What happened?”

Jason taps lightly on his leg. “You crashed during the night, and Alfred took you here for oxygen treatment. Your fever broke this morning, so he thinks the worst is behind you.”

One quick look around the cave reveals Tim, curled up in a cot, and Bruce, sleeping on a chair, his neck bent toward the ground. Dick winces in sympathy. “He’s going to be so sore when he wakes up.”

Jason snorts. “Give the old man a break, you scared him,” he says, and Dick knows this is as close as he will go to you scared me. “After we had a big emotional talk on patrol and all.”

Dick blinks. “What big emotional talk?”

Jason clears his throat, looks away. “Well, he seemed pretty shaken by what happened in the harbor. It opened some sort of weird affection to me. Anyway. You know B. He doesn’t do anything without it being awkward.”

Jason seems more and more interested in the ground. “Anyway. It was long overdue.”

Dick gets his hand to move and takes Jason’s wrist. “Will you stay?” he asks. Because if one of them is as good as Bruce at escaping emotional situations, it’s Jason.

“Your case isn’t over,” is all Jason says. “And I think you need someone to babysit you.”

Dick smiles. “You bet I do. I’m going to force you into a whole day of movies and games, and use my illness as an excuse to do nothing.”

Jason snorts. “Damian and the girls will probably be back the day after tomorrow. You can bully them into staying with you then.”

Dick closes his eyes. He doesn’t look forward to the moment where he will have to explain the situation to Damian. But the idea of spending some time with his youngest brother soon still fills him with warmth.

Dick is a lot of things, but stupid isn’t one of them. He knows his family is distracting him while they keep working in the cave. They’re not even doing a good job at it, taking turns to stay with him in a scheduled timeframe. They’re usually better than that at plotting and Dick would be offended they’re underestimating him if he wasn’t so tired. If he wasn’t so happy to have Alfred, Jason, Tim, Bruce, and, later in the afternoon, Duke all working together out of concern for him.

But he knows they’re also spending most of their day in the cave, possibly working on his case. He knows they’re working, and he knows they’re good, so he’s not the least surprised when, in the morning of the third day after his drowning, Jason tells him when he wakes up that the case is solved.

“So, you’re leaving?” he asks his brother, sitting at the table for breakfast, nodding to Bruce. His father had been watching him like a hawk, preventing him from doing anything more than moving around in the manor since the previous night.

Jason shrugs. “Well, the kids are coming back this afternoon, so I was thinking I could hang out a little longer.”

Dick gives him his best smile. He wishes the circumstances were different, but it’s nice to see Jason and Bruce being in the same room without being at each other’s throats.

He knows nothing is solved. He knows the next crisis will happen, and it can possibly be the last. But for now, they won. And he decides to enjoy the time he has.

Hope you enjoyed the fic, I had fun writing it. As usual, many thanks to @ohmytoddhewitt for beta reading and English fixing!

#dc #batman #batfamily #dick grayson #bruce wayne #Tim Drake #dick grayson centric #dick grayson whump #fanfiction #My writing #drowning #fear of death #sickfic

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rattyoakenbitch · 4 years

Text

youtubers: “don’t touch her” ₊˚ ⸝ corpse husband x reader

❝i don't wanna think about, think about you. drink up, drink up i'm so fucked up, all i want is you.❞

gif credit: n/a song: lykke li - sex money feelings die

˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳❥

pairings: corpse husband x reader

warnings: angst, cursing, drinking, smoking, violent language, and minor mentions of anxiety.

summary: i can’t make summaries rn hhh just read it (:

“Sean, there is no way in hell I’m going!”

“Oh, come on, Y/N. It’ll be fun!”

“That’s what you always say!”

“Ugh, you and Corpse are so stubborn. At least I was able to convince him to show up! You know what you need? To get out of the house more often and come hang with us.”

“Uh huh, yeah, y’all have fun, I got some stuff to finish.”

“Yeah? Like what? Your ten hour nap?”

“HEY! Excuse me -”

“7PM, [club address], you’re showing up.”

“Sean - !”

With that, Sean hung up. You let out an exasperated huff, crossing your arms and pouting like a toddler who was just denied a toy. You were invited, or more accurrately forced to celebrate whatever the hell Sean and his friends achieved. With lives like theirs, it seemed like there was always something to celebrate.

You, on the other hand.. Well, you were just little old you. You met Sean by mere chance. It’s a very long story, but you shared some things in common, like your love for video games. However, that was about the only thing you could relate to with Sean and his little friend circle. You were more passionate about writing, as well as reading short horror stories.

Now, that’s where you clicked with Corpse Husband.

He was an underrated YouTuber, whose main uploads were narration videos on creepypastas and horror stories. That’s until he blew up with his Among Us gameplays, collaborating with big names like PewDiePie, Jacksepticeye, and CrankGamePlays (EEF!!!).

You met over an Among Us stream with said YouTubers and immediately hit it off. You shared a dark sense of humor, love for horror, and music. You knew of Corpse before, but only then did you discover that he produced music, which you absolutely enjoyed (and blasted in your house for days on end).

When you found out you lived not even twenty minutes away from each other, you’d occasionally meet up, mostly at his house considering he only went out once in a blue moon. You’d sometimes even spend the night at his place, staying up late, gazing up at the stars, getting deep into conversation and opening up about things you never blurted out to people. But when you were with Corpse, everything just came naturally. You felt safe with him, and hopefully, he felt the same.

Night approached, the clock striking 5PM. You figured you’d get ready since Sean was dead set on you coming to the party. You showered, did a minimalist glossy makeup look, and chose an outfit, which consisted of a half neon green and black skirt that stopped mid thigh, and an oversized distressed band tee which you tucked into your belt. You slipped on a pair of ripped, striped thigh-highs with mismatched colors, (white stripes on one and neon blue on the other), and your platform boots that made you look like a Bratz Doll. You didn’t bother with your tangled hair. You teased it with a brush but didn’t put any effort into styling it, since it’d get messy anyways. To finish your look, you clipped on a choker and dangled a couple of layered chains around your neck.

Corpse would tease you, saying you had a “dog collar”, but you knew he secretly liked it.

All dolled up and ready to go, you hopped into your car and followed the GPS to the address Sean sent you. Drunk couples stumbled out of the club, dates headed inside, and old wasted guys were thrown out. Oh boy, you were not ready for this.

You were the anxious, anti social type. Not because it was edgy or cool, but you simply didn’t know how to handle social situations. However, it comforted you to know Corpse would be there by your side so you didn’t need to chat and flirt with strangers.

It’s not like you wanted to meet anybody new, anyways. Though nobody was aware of it, you had feelings for Corpse. Cliche, right? You knew you shouldn’t have, but you developed feelings for him. It made you feel strange and weird, considering you haven’t caught feelings in a while.

You came up with the bright idea of slowly drifting away from Corpse to maybe help de-escalate these feelings, but you were going to run into him at the club, so what the heck.

You headed inside, your eyes scanning the crowd and pushing through, searching for your friend group. You spent a couple minutes cluelessly looking around the club, but to no avail. Then, it was as if a light bulb clicked on over your head; you never thought to phone Sean.

“Ugh, I’m so stupid.” You reached into your purse to get ahold of your phone when a pair of strong, manly hands and cold metal which you assumed to be rings wrapped around your shoulders, gripping you tightly.

“Boo!”

You felt your heart stop and ran out of the man’s grasp, spinning around to look at who it was.

“Oh, did I scare you?”

The man’s deep, monotone voice rumbled above the sound of the music and shouts. Then you recognized that unique and distinctive voice.

“Corpse!! What the hell?”

His nose and jaw was covered by a black mask, with a print that looked like Frank from Donnie Darko, which was also Corpse’s signature look, seen in his channel art.

Despite Corpse being a faceless YouTuber, only very few people have seen his face, including you and Glam&Gore who he featured in his narration videos. You thought he was very handsome, his baritone voice matching his appearance. You had to admit, you were a little disappointed he chose to wear a mask. You loved seeing his facial expressions, especially his precious smile that would light up the room when he’d let out little fits of laughter. But you got over it and respected the fact that he wanted to remain anonymous.

“You dickhead,” you scoffed, smacking Corpse lightly on the shoulder. Corpse towered over you, looking admittedly both intimidating and seductive. If you were a stranger, you’d probably be running off, but you weren’t scared of Corpse. He was a big softie and a teddy bear.

Corpse chuckled lowly, slinging his arm over your shoulder and leading you to Sean’s group. He was protective like that, even if you were just friends. Now you could see why Sean, at one point, speculated that you and Corpse had a thing going on.

“So, Sean forced you to tag along, too?”

“Pfft, yeah, that’s Sean for you.”

“Hey, there’s my favorite couple,” Sean joked, patting your shoulder. You rolled your eyes at his drunk antics.

“Shut up, don’t make me choke you like I hate you,” you mocked in return, eliciting a fit of laughter from the group.

“Remind me to never hang out with you losers again,” Corpse mumbled sarcastically under his breath.

The night went by in a flash. Sean, Thomas, Felix, and everyone else was blackout drunk. Luckily, Mark was there to assist them. Since Mark couldn’t drink, he would be the designated driver that night. Corpse hung out by himself, sometimes getting approached by women who he politely turned down.

You, on the other hand, were downing alcohol like your life depended on it. For you, it would take more than the average number of drinks for you to get wasted.

“Y/N, don’t you think you should slow down?” Corpse questioned cautiously, resting a hand on the small of your back.

“Does it really look like I’m thinking right now?” you drunkenly slurred, following with a giggle. You waved to the bartender, calling for another shot, which he slid over to you, but not without hesitating after noticing your state. You pushed Corpse off of you, probably more harshly than you intended, and took the shot.

“Okay, Y/N, fuck this, I’m taking you to my place. We can’t stay here and you certainly can’t drive back home when you’re drunk,” Corpse scowled, stepping closer to you. Again, you shoved him back.

“No.. No..” You sighed, holding your pounding head in your hand. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what? Y/N, you’re drunk -”

“I’m not letting you of all people take me.”

Corpse blinked. “What does that mean?” He knew you were drunk, of course, and you were probably just blurting nonsense.

All of a sudden, tears escaped your eyes, racing down your blushy cheeks.

“No.. I’m so sorry. It’s my fault.” You began to shake and tremble as tears started to uncontrollably spill down your face. Corpse didn’t waste another second to take you in his arms, hushing you. “Your hugs are so warm.. I hate it. I hate feeling this way. It’s all my fault.”

“What did you do, sweetheart? You can tell me.”

Your heart ached when you heard his pet name for you.

“I think I may like you more than you like me.. I-I didn’t mean to! Please don’t leave me. You’re all I have,” you sobbed into his white tee, clinging onto him. “I love you so fucking much, it hurts. I shouldn’t have!”

Corpse stopped for a moment, processing your words.

You.. felt the same?

Corpse had to tell you. You were drunk, but he needed you to know.

“Y/N, I -”

Suddenly, you had a moment of clarity. Realizing how close you were to Corpse, you backed away, wiping away the mascara tears under your eyes.

“I - I think I had too much to drink.. I just need a smoke..”

Without giving Corpse the chance to protest, you ran off into the crowd, struggling your way through.

Corpse began to get worried when you didn’t come back. He waited impatiently on the barstool where you left him, anxiously playing with his rings.

He was just about to get up and look for you, when he caught a glimpse of you stumbling out the exit with another man who guided you, gripping your arm tightly.

Corpse fumed, his face going red and heartbeat speeding up. He went after you, knowing damn well you didn’t know this man.

The man took you to his car, placing you atop the trunk, your legs dangling over the edge. He stepped in between your legs, caressing your face. Everything was a blur. If your mind was clear, you wouldn’t be stupid enough to trust this random guy, who was probably ten years older than you.

“You’re too pretty to be crying,” he whispered, leaning in closer to your face, until a yell stopped him from proceeding any further.

“Hey, asshole, she’s drunk! Don’t you fucking touch her!”

“C-Corpse?” You hiccuped, hopping off the trunk to get a look at the approaching figure. It was indeed Corpse. His eyebrows were pressed together angrily at the sight.

“You know this dude?” the man said loudly and smugly, just to get a reaction from Corpse. “Relax, my man, I’m just tryna take this pretty girl home.”

“Well this pretty girl happens to be mine, and I won’t let you take advantage of her,” Corpse growled.

You stood by the stranger, clinging to him as you watched Corpse’s face twist into an expression of heartbreak when you didn’t budge. He then noticed the bruises around your arms and wrist, supposedly from the man’s strong grip. He was unbelievably furious.

“Ha, doesn’t look like she’s your girl anymore.” The man’s lips twisted upwards into a devilish smirk, only pissing Corpse off some more. Oh boy, was he ready to snap. He reached into his pocket, when..

“Wait,” you managed to slur out, breaking up the argument. You reached out towards Corpse like a child. His facial expression immediately softened. He gave you a loving smile and immediately took you into his arms, holding you protectively.

“Now, I suggest you get in your car and never come back,” Corpse threatened.

“Oh, yeah? Or what? I’ll kill you and take your girl, you motherfucker!”

Without hesitation, Corpse took out his switchblade, looking the man in his eyes.

“Say that again?”

You watched as the stranger’s whole tough act fell apart. Without another word, he ran to the driver’s side of his car, fumbling with his keys.

“Yeah, that’s right,” Corpse mumbled, not taking his eyes off the man until he reached his own car. You held his hand the whole way, processing what had just happened. Corpse noticed your distant expression. You got into his car, shutting the door and slumping back into your seat. He tore off his mask, taking in deep breaths to calm himself. Then he looked back to you.

“Princess?”

You looked to Corpse, your eyes teary. “Hey, Corpse.” You didn’t seem to be as drunk, your mind a lot clearer after the incident. “D-Did you mean anything you said back there? About the..”

“About you being my girl?”

Corpse took your hand in his, squeezing it comfortingly. He leaned forward and cupped your face with his free hand. “Absolutely.”

With that, you leaned towards him, hesitantly pressing your lips to his. Your lips tasted of alcohol, but Corpse didn’t care. He was admittedly taken back, his breath hitching, but he released the tension from his body and kissed you back, pulling you over to the driver’s seat atop him. There wasn’t much space, forcing you to press closer to Corpse, deepening the kiss.

Still being a bit drunk, you were clumsy and kind of ‘out of it’.

“I’d hold onto something if I were you,” Corpse mumbled, breaking the kiss momentarily to guide your hands to grip his shoulders. But you were impatient and reconnected your lips with his, no doubt causing him to blush even more than he already was.

You couldn’t help yourself and giggled into the kiss, causing Corpse to chuckle along with you, departing from the kiss again and resting his forehead against yours.

“I’m sorry, you’re just so fucking adorable when you giggle.”

You hummed in response, offering Corpse an innocent grin as you pecked all over his face.

“I’m so glad you’re mine.”

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bobohu4eva · 4 years

Text

Pink Lace - Final (M)

Characters: Baekhyun x Reader (feat. EXO members)

Genre: College AU, stripper AU, fluff, smut, slow burn

Summary: Baekhyun, a philosophy professor with mysterious wealth, got himself completely fucked over a girl who can’t let him into her life.

Word count: 3.1k

Warnings: sex work, mentions of sexual assault, adult themes/situations, smut

Tag list: @smolbeanmika @leave-me-in-the-summertime @totallynerdstuff @bbhmystar @nana-banana @kimyhappy @thegreatandi @geniusloey @deligxt @baekswifey @bbhyun506 @lovebuginlove @bellamendoza @baekyeonoreo @bobohumyonlyboo @wooya1224 @strawbaeri-s @xiuweetbbh

Masterlist

When you woke up it was still dark. You looked over at the clock, which read 4:42am. Of course you would wake up in the middle of the night, you fell asleep around 7 already after your activities with Baekhyun, who still had an arm slung around you. You tried to fall back asleep, but it felt too warm and you had already slept for a while. Oh well.

You attempted to remove Baekhyun's arm from your waist gently without waking him, but as soon as you were lifting the limb off of yourself he was groaning, and instead wrapped another arm around you, pulling your back flush to his chest. You were learning he could be very stubborn.

“Baekhyun,” you whispered, “It’s too hot.”

He sleepily mumbled something incoherent and kept his arms locked around you, at which point you knew you’d have to take matters into your own hands, so you pinched his arm.

“Ow! What was that for?” He whined as he withdrew his arms, massaging the spot you had dug your fingers into.

“You’re smothering me, you’re too warm.”

Quickly Baekhyun jumped out of bed and walked across the room to flip a switch and you felt the fan above you kick on. He jumped right back into bed, and wrapped his arms back around you.

You rolled your eyes at him but eventually cuddled back up to him as well. “You’re se needy.”

“Hmm you like it though.” His voice was rough and low in your ear, and he turned you around to face him.

With only a bit of moonlight peeking through the curtains it was difficult to make out his face, but eventually your eyes adjusted enough to see him looking back at you. You could see a lazy smile on his lips and his eyes looked heavy, he looked cute like this.

“Can’t sleep? I was surprised you fell asleep so early.”

“You wore me out.” You pouted in defense.

He grinned, of course he knew why you’d passes out so fast, but it was still amusing to him to tease you about it. “I know baby, I was tired too.”

You turned back around to get comfortable again, and felt Baekhyun’s hands snake around your body until they were crossed over your chest, one boob in each hand.

“Um, Baekhyun?”

“What?” He mumbled softly in your ear. “They’re soft and warm and perfectly hand-sized. Feels nice.”

You let out a sigh but didn’t move his hands away, to which he let out a pleased hum. Though you’d found it strange at first you slowly grew to like the feeling. It felt more comforting than sexual, and combined with the slow rise and fall of his chest against your back you were slowly drifting off again.

A few hours later Baekhyun was the one waking you up, as rays of sunlight started to peek through the blinds.

“Good morning sunshine.” You opened your eyes to see his face hovering above your own looking down at you expectantly.

Much to his disappointment you groaned and turned around to bury your head back in the pillow.

“Come on y/n we’ve been in bed for 12 hours, time to get up.”

Before you could object he was scooping your naked self up from the mattress and placing you back down at the edge of the bed with him.

“You’re so mean.” You whined as you rubbed your eyes and looked around. Baekhyun disappeared into his closet, returning with a pair of sweatpants on and one of his white button downs for you to wear, tossing it onto the bed next to you.

He watched as you put it on and stood up. It fit you more like a dress, hitting you mid-thigh. Baekhyun could barely contain his excitement seeing you in his clothes, and immediately had to come shower your face with kisses as he told you how pretty you looked. You couldn’t help but admire the bare skin of his toned torso as well.

Eventually the two of you made your way into his kitchen for something to eat and you finally got to take a good look at the rest of his home, and the more you looked around, the more you fell in love with the place. Although it wasn’t a particularly large space, it was filled with beautiful things that made it feel grown up and expensive. His walls were covered in unique art and all of his furniture went together perfectly. It was a massive step up from the bare one bedroom apartments with a mattress on the floor you usually got when going out with guys your age.

You looked through Baekhyun’s pantry and offered to make pancakes for the both of you, to which he gladly agreed.

You’d expected him to just sit and wait while you prepared the food but he insisted on staying in the kitchen and ‘helping’, which really just meant making excuses to touch you any time he could.

It was when he grabbed your ass mid pancake-flip, causing you to nearly launch the slab of dough across the kitchen, that you turned around and placed a playful slap on his shoulder. “You really are acting like a horny teenager!”

Instead of arguing he simply wrapped his arms around your waist as you kept cooking, head resting atop of yours. “Mmmh only for you babe.”

It went on like that until the pancakes were done, only occasionally he would slip a hand up under your (his) shirt to squeeze a boob as well.

Baekhyun couldn’t help himself, now that he’d had you and he knew he could touch you all he wanted he couldn’t keep his hands off you. Your soft skin beneath his palms just felt so good, he couldn’t get enough.

“Baekhyun, you have to let go of me so we can eat.” You teased as he held on to you even as you grabbed both plates to bring them to the dining room. He let out a sound of displeasure but took his hands off of you and took his plate of food.

Despite your teasing, you were growing more and more fond of this Baekhyun. His messy hair, the lazy look on his face, how cuddly he was acting, it felt so sweet and relaxed and comfortable with him like this. You couldn’t help thinking this was something you could get used to.

“This place is really nice.” You commented as you started to cut into your pile of pancakes.

“You like it? You’re welcome here anytime.”

You smiled at the idea of staying there more often, not only was it a beautiful home but being able to spend time with him like this felt too good to pass up.

“Sorry for making you miss work by the way, Mia told me you wouldn’t mind.”

“Yeah it’s alright, I’m still doing ok right now anyway and I can just go back next weekend.”

You noticed his face shift to something different and he swallowed, no longer smiling. He was worried you would say something like that. “Do you remember what I asked you at the club the weekend before the semester started?” He was looking down at the table now. He looked scared.

“What do you mean?”

He was scared. The idea of you going back to work bothered him, a lot, he couldn’t deny it, but he knew you wouldn’t take kindly to him telling you not to go. What had happened two weeks earlier was still fresh in his mind and the thought of you being around men like that again made him feel sick. He felt like he had to at least bring it up.

“I don’t want this to sound rushed, but I really like you a lot, and I, um... You don’t have to go back. If you don’t want to, that is, I can take care of things.”

“Baekhyun...”

“I really meant it when I said I could take care of you, if that’s what you want, I just can’t stand the though of something bad happening to you there again.” His voice got smaller and smaller as he spoke, until it was barely a whisper.

You paused for a while to think before speaking again. “Do you not want me to go back?”

You had been wondering if this was coming, but you didn’t expect it so soon, and as much as you did like Baekhyun, becoming completely dependent on him still scared you.

Your eyes met from across the table and you could see how anxious he was as he slowly shook his head in response. “We don’t need to go there to see each other anymore, and the idea of you being alone there isn’t something I like to think about. I know I can’t tell you what to do, but please, if you do, be careful.”

“So, what exactly are you thinking then?”

“You could stop working and I could help financially whenever you want, and you would be my girlfriend.”

Admittedly you did feel your heart flutter at the word girlfriend but you were still bothered by his offer to keep giving you money.

“Wouldn’t you basically be my sugar daddy then?”

His face turned into a deep frown. “I’m not just paying you to have sex with me, you know you mean more to me than that.” The look of genuine hurt on his face quickly had you regretting your words. You felt like you had just kicked a puppy. In the back of your mind though, you still didn’t want him to give you money, even if he expected nothing in return.

“I know, I’m sorry, I just don’t want to take more of your money. I don’t want you to feel like you have to pay to be with me.”

He took both of your hands from across the table and held them in his own, his eyes looking into yours intently. “The whole reason I don’t mind spending spending money on you is because I know you don’t expect me to. I know you’re not here for that, which makes me want to spoil you even more.”

“I’m just scared that if something happens and you decide you don’t want me anymore I won’t be able to repay you.” The words came out of you in what was hardly even a whisper. You knew the words would hurt him, that he wouldn’t like hearing your doubts after having just had such a magical time together. It felt like you were about to ruin everything if you weren’t careful with your words, but you had to be honest about your concerns.

“You don’t honestly think I would ever ask you to pay me back...” The way his expression tuned sadder and more desperate with every word you spoke killed your appetite and had your heart feeling like it was stuck in your throat. He squeezed your hands to make you look back up at him before continuing. “I haven’t felt the way I feel about you in a very long time, I didn’t think it was possible for me to be this into someone at all anymore. Please believe me when I say I’m not going to disappear. Even if I lose my job because of this, I’ll stay by your side until you decide you don’t want me in your life anymore. I haven’t wanted anything this badly in years, y/n, please I, I-.”

He cut himself off before he could get it out. As much as he wanted to say it, he knew now wasn’t the right time.

The way he was staring back at you, still tightly gripping your hands was enough to make you feel like you were about to cry from pure guilt. Seeing him look at you like this was heartbreaking. The idea of being his was everything you could ever ask for, to get to be with him the way you had been the last 16 hours and to get to enjoy his company and his touches whenever you wanted. It felt like a dream. You did want it, to be with him like this, and although it scared you to put so much trust in him so quickly, it was impossible for you to look him in the eyes and deny it to him when you knew he was being truthful.

“Okay.” It came out so quietly you first thought he didn’t hear you, but his face told you that he did. “I won’t go back.”

His face lit up immediately and he grinned back at you widely. “I promise you won’t regret it. I’ll do everything I can to make you the happiest girl alive.”

“But Baekhyun-” You paused when you saw his smile quickly fade. “Only what I need. I don’t want you to give me anything more, or I’ll feel guilty.”

“What about gifts? If I see something I think you would like could I give it to you as a present?”

You rolled your eyes, “I guess, as long it’s nothing too crazy.”

Both of you paused, and he swallowed. “Can I ask why you’re having such a hard time trusting me? You know I’ve never lied to you.”

It was true. You really had no reason not to trust him with how open and honest he was. Never once did any of his words or actions towards you feel disingenuous.

You sighed. It wasn’t something you liked to think back on. “The last time I had a real boyfriend was over a year ago. He seemed so charming and kind and perfect. I let him in too quickly and was head over heels in love when about 6 months in I found out he’d been going to parties and sleeping with other people the entire time.”

“And the two of you were exclusive?” You could only nod. It felt shameful. The fact that you’d been so easily strung along by the man when he was obviously just a charming fuckboy at the end of the day. “What an asshole.”

You shrugged. “It is what it is I guess.”

“He was an idiot to not see what I see in you. Any man should be thrilled to have someone as wonderful and as beautiful as you. He’s missing out.” Heat spread through your cheeks and a smile forced its way onto your lips despite you trying to fight it. “I can’t say I’m upset it didn’t work out, because now I get to have you here, but you also just deserve so much better than that. I promise you you’re the only one that I want. I would never do anything to hurt you.”

Eventually you let the warmth of his sweet words win you over and you stopped holding back your grin. “I know.”

The smile returned to his face and he stood up and rounded the dining room table to pull you up as well, and into a kiss. This was the sweetest, most romantic one yet, as he cupped your face and let his lips melt into yours.

“So... does this mean you’re my boyfriend now? You asked as you pulled away and rested your forehead against his.

“If you want me to be, then yes.”

You quickly nodded and before you knew it you were being swept off your feet as he picked you up bridal style and carried you to the couch in the living room. He laid you down and found his place back on top of you, kissing every inch of your face as you giggled and gently pushed at his chest.

He leaned back to look down at you in his shirt, hair disheveled, with a pink tint to your cheeks. “I can’t believe after all this time, you’re really mine now.”

With a surge of blind confidence you sat up and positioned yourself on his lap, straddling him. You looked into his surprised eyes before cupping his face and bringing it to yours, as if to confirm his statement.

“All yours.” You whispered after placing a soft kiss to his lips.

He shuddered beneath you and you felt his arms wrap around you and pull your chest flush to his. “I’ve dreamt of you saying those words to me so many times, you have no idea.”

You were becoming more and more aware of your lack of underwear as Baekhyun shifted you over his lap again, and this time you felt his hardness against you with the only thing separating you being the fabric of his sweats.

You inhaled sharply at the sudden feeling, before teasing him, “Is emotional intimacy turning you on?”

“Everything turns me on when it’s you.” He smiled back at you lazily before bringing his hands up to the collar of your (his) shirt and beginning to unbutton it. “As much as I love my clothes on you I think you look even more beautiful wearing nothing at all.”

He was really, truly, obsessed with your body. In the best kind of way. You were like a piece of precious art to him. The pink tint that moved across your chest, the curves, the softness, the way your skin felt beneath his hands was just perfect. He needed to feel and to memorize every inch of you.

“Can I fuck you, princess?”

“Since you asked so nicely.” You giggled, making fun of his words from the night prior.

He returned a dopey, blissed-out smile and his hands kept working on the buttons until he was taking it off of you completely, once again leaving you naked. His eyes scanned your body as one hand slowly made its way from your neck, down to your breasts, along the side of your waist and then finally between your legs.

“You make fun of me for being hard when you’re this wet?”

You let out a small yelp as two of his slender fingers entered you, curling against just the right spot that would have you losing your mind.

“Thought you said you wanted to fuck me.” You taunted impatiently, slipping a hand down to pull him out of his sweats.

As you wrapped you hand around him you felt his breath get stuck in his throat and the movement of his fingers inside you came to a halt before they left you completely.

“If you want it so bad then go ahead.”

He was right, there was nothing stopping you, so you lined him up with your entrance and sank down until he was fully inside you, hitting even deeper than before. His head hit the back of the couch and you couldn’t help but admire his parted lips and the slight knit in his eyebrows at the feel of you wrapped around him.

“So tight and wet, so perfect, like you were made for me.”

He soon had his hands on your ass and guided your motions, rolling your body against his. With every push of your hips against his own you let out small whimpers which grew louder and louder as he started to pick up the pace, bouncing you on top of him as he thrusted up into you.

When he leaned forward to take a nipple between his lips you knew you were done for, and seconds later you were shuddering around him as the tension in your body was released causing you to cry out his name, and you were grateful that he lived alone.

His movements didn’t stop even once your high wore off, and you found yourself grasping onto him tighter than before as oversensitivity took over. It felt like too much but you could tell by the way he was shaking beneath you and the movement of his hips was becoming inconsistent that he was close.

Just before he stilled inside you he brought his lips to yours for a messy, heated kiss before releasing inside of you as he groaned into your mouth. His hands were gripping your hips so tightly, holding you so firmly against his that you knew it would bruise, but you couldn’t find it in yourself to care when you felt this good.

Once both of you stopped shaking and your breathing evened out you rested your head on Baekhyun’s shoulder and let your hands rest on the smooth, warm skin of his bare chest. His hands moved from your ass up to wrap around your back, holding you against him. You felt him softening inside you but you couldn’t bring yourself to get up, feeling too weak and warm and cozy on his lap to want to move at all.

“You feel like heaven. We should stay like this all day.” He hummed blissfully into your neck.

You chucked at his words but didn’t move either. “Baekhyun?”

“Yes darling?”

“Do you love me?”

The words left your mouth before you could think about it too hard. You just felt it. It felt the love in his words and actions towards you. You needed to know.

He didn’t hesitate. “Yes.”

You sat up to look him in the eyes. “You love me?”

“I love you, y/n. Do you love me?”

“I’m learning to very quickly.”

“I’ve been told I’m a very good teacher.” He grinned.

When you brought your lips back down to his you felt it. The feeling bubbling deep inside of you. It wasn’t quite there yet, but you knew you would get there soon. It was only a matter of time until you were just as head over heels for him as he was for you. You were falling fast.

As the two of you spent the rest of the day wrapped around, pressed against, and cuddled up to one another, you knew that this was exactly where you were supposed to be.

He was your person, and you were his, and you couldn’t wait to take on so much more together for years to come.

~The End~

Epilogue

A/N: AHHH it’s over, I finished my first ever fic. I really never thought more than like 10 people would read it so I’m seriously so grateful for all the positive feedback, it’s so much more than I ever expected. I can’t wait to start the next one!

#baekhyun #exo #baekhyun fic #exo fic #fanfic #fluff #smut #baekhyun smut #baekhyun fluff #exo smut #exo fluff

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