#i tried doing this on a page and it was a fucking nightmare so -

[yurki-posts]

tw: vent art

[honeybeefae]

7 Minutes In Heaven (Bat Boys x Reader)

Summary// After a night of drinking and a confession that friends should not say to each other, you find yourself on the receiving end of your three best friend’s wicked desires to make sure you are taken care of.

(Hoooooly hell this was a LOT to write and it took me so long but I am so happy with how it came out. 16 pages, 5K words, and I really hope you guys like this. This is obviously just pure smut but we all know that’s why you’re here. ;) Enjoy!)

WARNINGS: Smut, 18+, Foursome, Double penetration, Spitting

The fire was roaring in the hearth while the smell of bread and wine filled the cabin air. Rhys, Cass, Az, and you were all sitting in a circle by the couch as you joked about old memories, the outside world seemingly far away as you took a relaxing breath and enjoyed the company of your friends.

You had come up here after your father had surprised you with an arranged marriage back in your birthplace within the Court of Nightmares. Despite your job with the inner circle he still felt as if he had control over you and you were lucky that Rhys had been there to swoop you away and hide you here.

It had been three days since then and you had no plans of leaving anytime soon. The four of you were as close as could be and you were thankful they had dropped everything to help you out and be a shoulder to lean on.

Four wine glasses lay empty beside each of you though none of you were drunk by any means, the conversation light and mellow as you reached for the half-empty bottle beside Rhys.

“So, Y/N,” Cassian began, smirking when you rolled your eyes at his prying tone. “Who were you going to be wed to?”

“Really?” Rhys deadpanned. “Do you have to kill the mood?”

“It’s okay. I know he can’t help his gossiping ways.” You say sickly sweet, drinking down the red liquid faster than you should’ve. “It was some friend’s son of Keir’s. A terrible man no doubt looking to climb ranks like the rest of them. And with me being the only daughter of my father, you know he was looking to make alliances to secure his power as well.”

“They’re all like that. It’s pathetic.” Azriel grumbled from his spot on the floor.

“The men are the worst of them all, treating us daughters lesser than.” You snort and lean back on your hands. “It just sucks that us women are caught in the crossfire of your pissing contests.”

“Our pissing contests?” Rhysand echoed, arching his brow as you waved your hand in the air to gesture vaguely.

“Men in general. It’s so much harder for us than it is for you when it comes to scenarios like this. You guys get to go and do whatever you want, fuck whoever you want, etc., while we have to be everything all at once lest we ruin our family image.” Your eyes nearly rolled into the back of your head in irritation as you ranted to the group.

“If I were a man I wouldn’t have to put up with being treated as a mere breeding sow or a stepping stool to a higher purpose. I could take what I wanted.” They were all watching you with amusement as you crossed your arms over your chest, glowering. “For example, I bet the three of you never once got lectured on the importance of maintaining your purity for a woman or how to please them properly.”

“Well, no, but-” Cassian tried to interrupt but you raised to sit on your knees and snapped your fingers in exasperation, cutting him off.

“Exactly my point! It’s a sexist, ridiculous outlook on women as a whole. We shouldn’t be made to feel bad about wanting our own pleasure when you lot can take part in yours whenever you please.” You realized too late how you had completely derailed the conversation and glanced at your now empty glass of wine, making a note to keep it that way.

“You certainly have very strong feelings towards this subject.” Rhys pointed out, his violet eyes twinkling in the firelight. “I didn’t realize this was such a sore topic. Shall we join you in your celibacy?”

All three of them laughed and you felt your face heat in embarrassment. It was your own fault for making it such a big deal and you were starting to regret the ammunition you had just given them. You rushed to defend yourself from whatever picture they were painting of you. 

“I’m not celibate, I just-” You tried to get out, your voice cracking as you considered your words.

Three pairs of eyes stare at you as you clear your throat and straighten your spine, finding a small stain on the rug underneath you to focus on. “I mean that in the sense that you don’t have to feel obliged to do that since I’m not. I just think the issue needs to be talked about more.”

“The issue of your sex life?” Azriel quipped, grinning when you threw a pillow at him.

“No! The issue of the scale of men and women.” You retort with a flip of your middle finger. “Can we just change the topic?”

“I just can’t believe you’ve actually had sex with someone. What would your mother think, Y/N?” Cassian faked a dramatic gasp and you resisted the urge to chuck the glass bottle at his head. 

"Listen-” You try to cut in but your pleas fell on deaf ears as all three of your best friends started to gang up on your blushing state.

“You have had sex before right?” Rhys smirked devilishly. “Touching yourself doesn’t count, it takes two people.”

“Or more.” Azriel gave you a wink and you blushed crimson, your mouth opening and closing as you tried to regain control of the situation.

“Yes, yes. I’ve done it before with someone else.” You felt self-conscious even admitting to that and you could tell they wanted more details. Before they could even ask though you held out your hand to silence them. “Why am I in the hot seat? Can we move on to someone else? Or a new topic entirely?”

“Oh no, this is very interesting. I want to know more.” Rhys raised an eyebrow, shooting his brothers an amused glance as you shook your head.

“Well if it’s so interesting how about I ask you how many people you’ve had sex with, hm?” You challenged your High Lord, blinking in surprise when he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“I have no problem telling you how many. What was it you said, we shouldn’t be made to feel bad about seeking our own pleasure?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm as you puckered your lips in silence. “I would say at least thirty.”

“Thirty?!” You were shocked.

“If you think that’s scandalous you really don’t want to hear Azriel’s…or Cassian’s.”

“How do you even? Were you courting all of them?”

Rhysand snorted while Cassian and Azriel grinned, the former laying sideways and propping his head up on his elbow. “You do know you don’t have to be courting someone to fuck them right, princess? Sex isn’t magically unlocked by writing poems and delivering flowers.” Cassian teased.

“I know that.” You snapped, frowning. “I just don’t see why. It doesn’t even feel that good.”

The room immediately fell into silence and your body tensed. All three of your friends were staring at you, mouths open, with shocked expressions. You brought your knees up to your chest, a comfort action, as Azriel cleared his throat and clicked his tongue.

“What doesn’t feel good? Sex itself?” He questioned, watching you shrug. “How many people have you had sex with, Y/N?”

“It doesn’t matter.” You went on the defense immediately, knowing they would laugh. However Rhys held out his pinky for you to hook, his face serious as he promised you that no one would make fun of you.

You mulled over lying or not but you knew they would be able to tell. It wasn’t something you were proud of but you truly never got the appeal of it. A few girls back in the Court of Nightmares were constantly bragging about it but you didn’t get the desire.

“Two.” You whispered, wincing when Cassian almost choked on his drink.

“Two? Did you say two?” He said hoarsely, hitting his chest with an open palm to clear his throat. “How old are you?”

“Why does it matter?” You ran a hand over your face frustratedly. “Why is any of this relevant to our friendship? Yes, I’ve only had sex with two people. It was painful, lasted a couple of minutes both times and just left me feeling frustrated and used. I didn’t like it. Can we move on?”

They watched you and you saw their gazes turn from shocking to pitying. 

“So…no one has made you cum before?” Azriel whispered, voice tight as you closed your eyes and took a steadying breath.

“No, they aren’t supposed to.” You said as if it were obvious. “I was always told sex is for the man, to make a baby. It’s not really something that we enjoy but we just pretend we do.”

“Oh you sweet, summer child,” Rhys cooed. “That’s….that’s just cruel. And not what sex is at all.”

You felt agitated, embarrassed, and frustrated all at the same time. It was like they all knew some secret that you didn’t, that they were teasing you again. The night was not supposed to have taken this turn but you had dug this grave yourself.

“I’m going to bed.” You huffed and began to stand, grunting when Cassian grabbed your wrist and pulled you back down.

“I’m sorry if we made you feel uncomfortable or anything, Y/N. It’s just that is a very…shocking thing to hear.” He rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly as you glared at him.

“Are you telling me that you all care about the women you sleep with? That you make them cum every single time?” Your voice was tight as they looked at each other and then back to you, nodding. A snort left your lips as you rolled your eyes. “Yeah, okay. I’ll believe that when I see it.”

Another pregnant pause filled the room as you watched them, their eyes darkening while they looked you over. There was a noticeable shift in the air, your mouth suddenly dry as you squirmed on the floor.

“Would you like to see it, darling?”

Your heart dropped into your stomach as Rhys’s words reverberated through you. They all had the same look in their eyes, one of hunger, but you were convinced they were messing with you. 

“Ha ha, very funny.” You laughed without humor, your eyebrows knitting together in anger. “You all are assholes for teasing me, you know that? I’m going to bed.”

This time it was Azriel who stopped you though not with his hands. Two silky, dark tendrils of smoke curled around your arms and held you on the floor. It made your breath hitch and goosebumps rise on your skin as you looked up at him with doe eyes. “Az, this isn’t funny.”

“We aren’t joking, princess.” Cassian purred, one of his hands wandering to your thigh as he made his way beside you. “There are many things we would joke about but your pleasure isn’t one of them…and trust me when I say that we would love to help you out.”

“What-all of you?” You asked softly as your gaze moved across all three of them. “I don’t…I mean you are all very handsome, obviously, but don’t feel obligated to-”

Rhysand sat in front of you and grabbed your chin with his thumb and index finger, the former dragging over your bottom lip as you held back a moan at the contact. Azriel’s shadows were drawing shapes into your soft skin while Cassian’s hand seemed to drift higher and higher, all the attention making your head spin.

Your High Lord knew it too, a smirk working its way to his lips as he bent down until he was a hairsbreath away from your lips.

“This is anything but an obligation to us, darling. This is pure, carnal desire in its rawest form. A primal need.” His voice was smooth as silk, your eyelids fluttering as his lips moved to ghost over your ear. “A desperate urge to take care of you until you’re drowning in pleasure.”

“Look at her,” Azriel growled from your other side, his hazel eyes appearing behind Rhys. He had on a wicked smile, his head slightly tilted as he surveyed you. “She wants it so bad.”

“Do you, princess?” Cassian asked teasingly, his hand stopping at the waistband of your pants. “Do you want us to take care of you?”

“Yes.” You breathed, your sultry voice surprising you as all three of them pulled away and grinned. All of their warmth and comfort disappeared and you almost let out a whine, wanting it back desperately. 

“How about we make this a game?” Rhys asks his two friends, standing tall over you. There was already a noticeable bulge in his pants that your fingers were itching to touch. “Seven minutes in heaven?”

“Person who makes her cum the hardest gets to fuck her?” Cassian finished, licking his lips. “Gods, I need to go first.”

However, before he could grab you, Rhys hoisted you up bridal style into his arms. You giggled as he looked over his shoulder and said, “Go ahead and start the timer. I won’t need all seven.”

The bedroom door swung open and then quickly shut again as you were pressed right against it, his lips on yours before you could make a sound. It felt so wrong and yet so right, your fingers immediately running through his midnight black hair.

“Stars above, you’re so beautiful.” He grunted into your ear as he kissed down your neck, his lips latching onto your pulse point while he shimmied off your pants. “I could smell how badly you want this.”

“Please, Rhys,” You whined, his fingertips ghosting over the wet spot on your panties. “Please touch me.”

He didn’t answer you by words but by actions, as he pushed your underwear aside to rub your clit with his thumb. It made your knees wobble from how good it felt. One of your hands came up to grasp his forearm, your head hitting the door behind you. “Oh my gods, that feels-I feel…”

“So fucking good,” Rhys finished for you. He kissed you hungrily, his own cock straining against its confines. Two more fingers dipped down and circled the entrance of your cunt before he thrust them in sloppily, choking back a moan. “You’re such a good girl for me.”

Your nails dug into his skin at the roughness of his motions, his upper lip curled as drank in every expression on your face. “Fuck me,” You gasped as a pleasure you had only read about overtook your body, those thick fingers curling each time they entered you. “Don’t stop, don’t stop!”

“Never.” He promised. “I will never stop making you feel this good, never stop making you scream around my fingers. You’re mine. Forever.” His words were like ice to a burn as you felt a strong surge of ecstasy boil over. Rhys held you as you exploded around his fingers, working you through the best orgasm of your life with words of praise and soft strokes.

“That’s it, darling, that’s it.” You mewled at his tone as your pussy tried to swallow his fingers deeper. “Such a good girl. You did so well…”

“Rhys that was…I’ve never…” Your words were breathless as you watched him with hooded eyes, your lips slightly parted as he gave you a knowing smile and kissed you. It was loving and warm, like a blanket on a cold winter’s night, and you melted into it.

He threaded his fingers through your hair to deepen it, taking control, and just as you felt him start to rut into your thigh the door behind you shook with a pounding force.

“Don’t need seven minutes my ass! Time’s up, High Lord!” Cassian chuckled, his grin feline as Rhys opened the door with a glowering look. “Oh I’m sorry, did I interrupt?”

“Just remember who just made your eyes roll back, darling.” Rhys purred into your ear before kissing your cheek, purposefully hitting Cass’s shoulder as he made his way back out to the living room. You tried to follow him with your eyes but Cassian was quick to step forward and make you step backward., your thighs still shaking.

“Was it that good, princess? Or were you just pretending for him?” He teased as he strode forward, making you retreat until your knees hit the edge of the bed. You fell back, your smile growing when the general appeared over you. “You don’t have to lie, I promise I won’t tell.”

“It was pretty amazing…” You sighed as he rolled his eyes before sinking to his knees at the end of the bed. He threw your legs over his shoulders before you could process what was happening and by the time you tried to squirm away, he had you pinned.

“Nuh-uh, you’re not going anywhere.” He growled as he gazed at your swollen cunt, your lips puffy and glistening. “You have such a pretty pussy, princess. Is it sensitive?”

Before you could answer he blew a cool breeze across your sex, making you jump. Cassian smirked and used both of his hands to spread you wide open. He leaned forward and spat on your clit, watching it mingle with your wetness as he inserted one finger. “Gods you’re making it so hard to be gentle.”

“Then don’t,” You urged, your pupils blown wide in desire. “Treat me how I deserve to be treated.”

Cassian let your words sink in before he dove headfirst into your pussy, three fingers roughly fucking into your hole as he scraped the hood of your clit with his teeth. It was sensory overload and you bucked forward with a small shout, your hands immediately fisting into his hair as he ate you out like a starved animal.

Every nerve in your body had already been shot but this was mind-numbing pleasure. It had you crying out for more, fucking his face as his stubble rubbed against your thighs. He was no better as he sucked and fucked your cunt until he could feel you start to tighten around him.

You hated how fast you were cumming but you also didn’t know if you could hold it any longer, your cries to slow down falling on deaf ears. Cassian swirled his tongue up and down, side to side, making sure to not waste a drop of your excitement. He knew how to eat someone out.

“Cass, Cass-” You tried to warn him, shifting your hips, only for him to tighten his hold on you. “Cass I can’t. I can’t hold it.”

“Cum all over my face, princess,” Cassian grunted as he watched your face contort in pleasure, your body already falling over the edge of the abyss. “Soak my beard, fuck my face, use me to get off. It’s all for you.”

Whereas Rhys had been sweet, Cassian was a little bit of both. It made you yearn for more of his degrading praise and you quickly found yourself following his orders, your hips rolling over his face as you came loudly.

The door started banging again but you didn’t care and neither did he. In fact, Cassian was so lost in what he was doing he almost lashed out when Azriel appeared behind him. You whined when he was pulled back but quickly settled when you felt cool hands running over your body.

No, not hands. Shadows.

Your eyes widened when Azriel’s hazel gaze appeared inches from your face. He had a dark look and an even darker smirk as his shadows lazily rubbed along your skin, his hands gently pulling off your top.

“Did my brothers fully satisfy you or are you still wanting more, mouse?” Azriel cooed into the empty room, tossing the last of your clothing aside so that you were now bare before him. “Answer me.”

“I want more.” You gulped, drinking precious air as the Shadowsinger tilted his head in wonder. “Please.”

“Who taught you those manners, pet?” He raised a curious brow while both of his hands cupped your sensitive tits, thumbs barely grazing over your nipples. It was enough to make you squirm though which he was counting on. “I’ll be happy to give you more but I want you to beg.”

“Beg?”

“Beg.”

You faltered at first, not sure what it was he wanted to hear, but when he went to pull away from your breasts you ran with it. “No, no, please keep touching me!” You whined, groaning when one of his tendrils of smoke circled your clit. “Oh, Gods, that feels so good.”

“I’ll stop if you don’t fucking beg for it, Y/N. I want to hear you tell me how badly you want my fingers. How greedy you are for already cumming twice but still needing more, like the dirty slut you are.” He sneered, his nostrils flaring as he resisted the urge to just fuck you then and there. 

“I am greedy! I want more, I want it so fucking bad, Az!” You cried, desperate for his touch to grow stronger. He was keeping you on the edge. “I am a, fuck, I’m a dirty slut. I want you so bad, so so bad, please.”

“You’re a quick learner.” He smiled before bending down and capturing one of your nipples in his mouth at the same time his shadows started stroking your slit. Your mouth opened wide in a silent cry of euphoria as he bit and nibbled his way over to your other boob, the pressure on your clit increasing with each second.

“I always knew you were dirty, mouse,” Azriel murmured as he gave a harsh suck, enjoying the way you arched into it. “Always knew this how you wanted to be fucked. Just look at this greedy little cunt, hm? Look at how it’s swallowing my fingers.”

You couldn’t see it but you could feel it as he thrust two fingers inside of you, the walls sensitive as he stroked them and found that special spot with ease. His fingers plus his mouth on your breasts was heaven as your head thrashed back and forth, your body desperate to just be fucked.

But he wasn’t going to give that to you. At least not yet. No, Azriel was focused on making you cum one more time. The tip of his tongue flicked over your hardened nub as his shadows came back to rub your clit, all of the stimulations becoming too much, too fast.

“Azriel, fuck!” You squealed as you came for the third time that night. This time you felt yourself ascend from your body, watching yourself from below as he worked you through it but didn’t slow down. “Ohhhhh fuck…”

“Fuck you’re so tight.” He growled as he removed his fingers, smirking when your eyes had that glazed look to them. You whimper as he picks you up gently, shushing you, then turning to see Rhys and Cassian waiting in the doorway. “I think she’s done for the night.”

“No…” You mumble softly, needily. “I want you…all of you. Please.”

There was a beat of silence as they considered your state and each other before you were brought back to the bed and spread out for their viewing pleasure. You felt like you were cock drunk at this point, especially as Rhys pulled his cock out right in front of your face.

You wasted no time in bringing him into your mouth, your saliva dripping out the sides of your mouth as you worked his cock up and down. Rhys threw his head back and growled, the room seeming to shake before he grabbed a fistful of your hair to help guide you.

“If your mouth is this good I can’t wait for your cunt.” He laughed airly before moaning once more, watching as Azriel stood to your other side with his cock standing proudly. 

The bed dipped behind you and before you could blink you felt Cassian rub his cock up and down your folds, words of praise or prayer spilling from his lips as he sunk in inch by inch. It felt amazing and you pulled off Rhys’s dick long enough to moan loudly.

“Shit, Cassian,” You groaned. “You’re so big.”

“You’re just tight as fuck, princess. Gods, I don’t think I’m going to fit.” He cursed, his fingers squeezing your hips as you whipped your head to look back at him.

“Make it fit.” You said lowly, your eyes narrowed in challenge which had him grinning. He gave you a shrug of his shoulders before pulling out and slamming back in, rocking your forward and straight into Azriel’s cock. He took advantage of the situation and forced you to swallow him whole, his biceps straining as you gagged and cried around his dick. 

“Look at you, look at the little whore you’re being for us,” Azriel said as you started to go back and forth between him and Rhys. Cassian was fucking you like a beast, his balls hitting your clit with every thrust. It was intoxicating in every sense of the word and you never wanted it to stop. “You like being treated like this, don’t you? Like our own personal fuck toy?”

“You’re doing such a good job, darling.” Rhys’s voice soothed, your heart beating in your ears as you gazed at him. “Taking Cass so well. He’s close, I can tell.”

“I’m gonna fucking fill you up.” The Illyrian General growled as he pistoned in and out. You could feel him in your stomach as you closed your eyes and let yourself feel. “Take it, Y/N, fucking take it.” He ordered as he finally stilled in you, hot ropes of cum coating your insides as you hung your head in rapture. 

He seemed to cum forever and when he finally pulled out, you watched his cum drip down onto the bedsheets from just how much it was. Cassian smirked and collected the leaking seed onto his fingers, holding it out for you to take before Rhys snatched it and sucked it off himself.

Rhys’s eyes darkened at the taste of both of you and he quickly yanked you to him, lying back on the bed and positioning you on top. He helped guide you onto him and when you started sinking down, both of your groaned. The rhythm was soft and slow as you got used to his size, your hands coming to palm at your breasts until you felt a nudge against your asshole.

“Shhhh, relax,” Azriel’s voice shushed as he spat on his cock, lubing it up even more before he started to press into your ass. “Relax for me, mouse. I want you to take us both together. Can you do that?”

You nodded, a stupid smile on your face as you leaned back into him for support at the intrusion. It felt weird but the longer you waited, the more pleasurable it got. Soon you were rocking on to both of them in need, your sex hungry for more as they started fucking you at the same time.

It was a fullness you had never felt before but you don’t know how you could ever go on without it. They worked beautifully with each other, their moans mixing with yours as Azriel replaced your hands with his own. Rhysand watched from below, his violet eyes burning with desire as he pulled you down for a heated kiss.

They were fighting over you and it was driving you crazy. And just as Azriel went to pull you back to him, Cassian appeared at your side with his cock in his hand. It was already hard and leaking and you wasted no time in shoving him inside your mouth.  

“That’s it, that’s it,” Rhys praised. “Ride us, darling. Be a good, needy girl for us.”

“Our good, naughty little whore.” Cassian purred, choking when you took him down to the base. 

“Or just our whore.” Azriel growled as he smacked your ass, watching the recoil. “A whore we can use and abuse whenever we want.”

Their words filled your veins until you felt as if you were about to burst. You could feel a fourth orgasm coming, could feel the now painful clenching of your cunt, but there was nothing you could do to stop it. You had enough mind to pull away from Cassian’s cock before you let out a blood-curdling scream, your body collapsing on Rhys’s chest as you squirted all over them.

All at once, together, they also found their releases and followed you with reckless abandon. The sheets were soaked, as were the rest of you, as Azriel came in your ass, Rhys came in your cunt, and Cassian came over your back. You felt like you were leaking cum from every opening you had and you loved it.

You struggled to catch your breath as they all fell into bed beside you and Rhys, the smell of sex and cum permeating the room. Rhys’s soft hand stroked up and down your back lovingly while Cass and Az whispered praises. It was slow coming back down to Earth, to the three men who you had just slept with, and you realized that you never wanted to leave the room. Never wanted to leave them.

After a few minutes, you hear rustling before Azriel stands up and asks if anyone wants to shower, his eyebrows lifting in surprise when you sat up sleepily and said, “Second round in the shower?”

[nathaslosthershit]

Secret Daughter?

Summary: Fans are speculating as to who the child Jack and his girlfriend were spotted with is.

Liked by trevorzegras, jhugheswag, and 3,539 others

Nhlplayernews: Devils alternative captain & superstar, Jack Hughes, spotted looking pretty comfortable with alleged girlfriend & mysterious child. Could it be the center has been hiding a kid from the world?

user: remember when hockey was about the game?

user: You are on an insta page literally called “player news” dumbass.

user: guys it’s me and Jack’s kid leave us alone!

user: hey girly, I hate to be the one to do this…

user: Trevor liking this 💀

trevorzegras’s story

Replies:

Jackhughes: you are a fucking asshole you know that right?

Trevorzegras: 😎🫶🤑👍

Jackhughes: what the fuck-

It was a widely known fact that Jack Hughes was never one for interviews. No professional athlete ever really was into them with how often they were asked the same questions. But given his most recent injury, and his time off, he finally agreed after being forced asked to do one from the comfort of his own apartment. 

After 30 minutes of having to speak about his team’s playing in recent games, as well as details on his injury and when he is expected back, the end was finally in sight. There was little talk about Jack’s personal life, apart from if he had been talking to his brothers recently, which was quite frankly the most idiotic question. But he was happy, given the most recent rumors, the interviewer had not asked about Jack’s mysterious child he supposedly had and he had thought he had made it out, until…

The soft footsteps were almost inaudible, but as Jack had become accustomed to listening for them at all times, he had immediately heard Eva’s approach. After politely stopping the interviewer who was in the middle of asking what Jack did to fill his days now, the center turned to see his girlfriend’s little sister holding her blanket tightly with tear stained eyes. 

“Aw Eva, didn’t have a good nap?” Jack cooed.

“Bad dream” was all the child said. At this, he beckoned the child forward, letting her sit in his lap as she tried to calm down, still fighting those post-breakdown tears. 

Seeing that Jack was clearly locked in his own world, the interviewer cleared his throat.

“So, I assume this is the secret child we have been hearing a lot about recently?” He pressed.

“She is, but she isn’t my kid. She is my girlfriend’s little sister who is staying with us for a bit.” Jack was fine to clear up the fact that he was not a dad, but he didn’t feel the need to go into the heavy details on why Eva was staying with them. It wasn’t his place.

The interviewer went on to ask the 3 year old a few questions. What her favorite color was, what animals she liked, if she had a best friend, were all discussed at length. Jack was happy to have the spotlight off of him in his own interview, and his large smile as he looked down at the now happy and energetic girl was not unnoticed.

Once Eva’s interview was done, Jack, begrudgingly, went back to answering his, now with Eva settled into his lap. As he talked, she nuzzled into his chest as she went back to sleep. After noticing that she had dozed off, Jack knew he wasn’t going to be able to focus again on this interview, but luckily the man interviewing him had also noticed this.

“Well Jack, I’ll let you get that little one to bed. It was nice talking to you and Eva, hope to see you back on the ice soon.”

—

Eva went back to bed soon after, waking up in a much better mood than before. She was now sitting in the living room playing quietly while Jack made dinner, awaiting his girlfriend’s arrival. 

He turns as the door opens, seeing his very tired girlfriend in the doorway.

“Oh wow, don’t you look like the perfect housewife.” She said pointing to his apron. 

“You will have to wife me up soon, too many people are out here looking for a partner as great as me.” He quips back. 

“Maybe… we will see. How was Eva today?”

“Had a nightmare and woke up early from her nap but she went back to sleep on my lap… during my interview.” His girlfriend turned around at that.

“Shit, I forgot you had that today. I am so sorry Jack I would have arranged a sitter for her.”

“No, no, it's fine I promise. Although now everyone knows about her. He asked her a few questions, nothing crazy just like her favorite toys and such.”

“What did you say about her?” She asks, concerned. Understandably, his girlfriend didn’t want her family’s dirty laundry out there for people to judge.

“Just that she was your sister and staying with us for a bit. If you don't want that I can ask my team to get it cut out. I would have asked you but I didn’t really have time.”

She is quiet for a moment while she thinks. Eva and her family situation was… complicated. Jack knew that. A three year old staying with her 22 year old sister and boyfriend was going to raise some questions from fans. 

“It’s okay. People will find out eventually and now they know you don't have a secret child. I’m sure that is a relief.”

“Honey, you know damn well I didn’t care. And I see Eva as a daughter. She has been in my life almost as long as you have and I adore her. It was kind of cool to see people thinking I was a dad, and a good one at that.” 

She was on the brink of tears hearing this. Bringing Eva home and raising her wasn’t easy, and despite how long they have been together, she was always insecure about how Jack truly felt, even though he had been nothing but accepting and loving to Eva. 

“You’re right. Hey, maybe now she can go to games. She always asks when we watch at home.”

Jack lights up at the idea. “I'll get her a mini version of my jersey. I'll try to get you guys good seats. That will be great.” He immediately walks over to Eva, taking her in his arms as he asks her if she wants to go to one of his games. 

Even after all this time, there is no better site than watching her sister laughing with Jack, a man that had no obligation to love Eva the way he did but did so tenfold.

[vinelark]

do you have comic recs for someone who wants to get into tim and timkon? I read superman comics but your fic made me wanna know more about this character who makes me want to eat metal with how weird and scary he is (affectionate)

hello! and welcome to the “weird scary little guy who makes you want to eat metal” (or perhaps put him in a salad spinner) club

tim has many, many comics, so for the purposes of this i’ll go with some big arcs/series and then some random personal favs

a lonely place of dying (1989): aka tim’s intro, in which 13 y/o tim engages in his favorite pastime (stalking dick grayson), tries to be a family therapist, and somehow ends up in a cape and pointy boots at the end of it.

robin (1993): so much content spanning so many batman plotlines; this is just issue after issue of tim being the most 90s kid to ever 90s kid (and then 00s kid to ever 00s kid). also much of it is written by chuck dixon, who is good at being so homophobic that the characters loop right back around to being queer.

young justice (1998): for both tim and kon (and bart and cassie and the whole yj crew)! also featuring tim and kon both wearing gloves that are way too big for them. no idea what's going on there but it's kind of like when puppies have giant paws they haven't grown into yet.

red robin (2009): THE tim comic to me, partially because marcus to draws most of it (issue 6 on i believe) and the way he draws tim here is peak tim to me, and partially because tim is just balls to the wall bonkers in fucking yonkers the whole series. this spans his brucequest and damian becoming robin (and damian in this is so!! and dick is so!!) while tim takes his shaky next steps. he’s in his messy bitch era but also stuck at 17(?) so that just means he’s randomly making out with sort-of-adversaries on rooftops and thinking longingly of kon and getting fake engaged(??) to a girl he can barely ask on a first date. (it has scant few but still some good timkon moments here and there.) (and speaking of marcus to: this and this.)

a lonely place of living (detective comics) (2017): an arc in which everyone thought tim was dead but surprise! he was just stuck in a pocket dimension prison and now he has to come back and stop gun batman (again). feat. tim being wildly competent from page one. kon is, iirc, currently erased from the timeline but never fear, tim still manages to find a way to think about him.

random/short comics:

WF3: superboy & robin (1996): tim & kon solve a case together in a two-parter that is, as described by a reviewer on its league of comic geeks entry, "…a pretty fun meet cute, I mean team-up…" (basically: see above re: chuck dixon.)

knight terrors: robin (2023): a two-parter in which tim and jason are trapped in a sentient nightmare together. if you like those vibes definitely check out this fic.

nightwing (1996) #25: tim being an annoying little brother is something that can be so personal—

[babygirl-riley]

Oh, My Love

“I had a nightmare…but now i’m not scared.”

How Simon fell in love with you.

simon x reader guide

simon x reader fluff/angst list

Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of childhood trauma, little bit of smut, swearing, and violence

Simon never knew what love meant. He never had it growing up, yes his mother loved him he knew that. However, he tried to block out those memories since most of them were about his father. When he beat the fuck out of his father and it was just his mom, brother, sister in law, nephew, and him that’s when love came into play.

His mother and brother were something he would consider close. He would do anything for them go beyond even, take his brother out to the nearest pub, bring his mother flowers, take his nephew to get ice cream. He thought nothing could happen, thought love was a simple thing. But then they were taken. Taken because of his actions. The consequence.

So love was an enemy to him. He tried not to get close with anyone. Stayed yards away from it, he barely went in dates. He would only have night one stands NEVER again. Team mates he would care for only as a superior way, since losing men and women was always the case.

The word love was a poison to him. He could never love. Or be loved. Not for who he was or what he has done. Nothing would change his mind.

…Then you came along. The team celebrated the win of the mission at a pub. Simon felt eyes on him as he looked around he saw a group of women. Typical he would think until you, small and tiny compared to him walked up. The confidence yet shyness did something to him. Amusement? Shock? All he knew was that Simon felt some flutter in his chest when your beautiful eyes looked at you. When you lips would lay still, being plumped.

He would leave with you that night for sure. Fuck you until your body basically needed to rest and he would cum all over your stomach. Usually he would leave it at that, never clean ya up, never sleep there. However the way his name would slip out from your lips when he would hit that right spot. How you would praise him for finishing on you. How you rubbed his back as both of you were exhausted.

He woke up last, noticing a note with a number and name. Yours. The flutter once more.

Couple months go by, your third date. Simon would belittle himself when he kept calling you to go out with him after missions. You would pick up and coy with him, exchanging flirty comments. How your laugh made him smile to himself. Simon would think he was acting like a child but didn’t care at the same time. Third date was the date you moved his mask up to his nose to kiss him.

At first he almost smacked your hand away. Feeling the sweat and his heart beating quickly. His muscles wanting to vibrate but you stopped almost to his lips and smirked. Telling him. “This is where you meet in the middle Manchester.” God the nickname, you knew where he was from, he mentioned it. Why would it make him to his knees? Only the gods know why. He kissed you not passionately. Not fierce. Lovingly.

Once he felt like love was getting too close he put a wall up. Ghost protecting Simon. He ignored your texts and calls for months. Eventually you did stop calling and messaging. That made his mind race. What if you were with someone and it wasn’t him touching you. Calling you. Fucking you. Cuddling you. So he went to your place, flowers in hand, and a page letter to read.

When you opened the door you of course weren’t happy but willing to listen. Everything he wanted to say left his mind. Reciting it was so useless. Instead he told you how he is afraid of losing you if he got too close to you. You didn’t pry. Questioned. Just listened and nodded before you walked around the counter to tell him that you weren’t going anywhere.

When he asked for you to move in with him after a year. He noticed the flutter was turning into more of a flip feeling. Your laugh would make him laugh. His jokes came out more just for him to listen to your laugh. The way you let him get home from deployment and left him alone until he was ready. When the first time he took his mask off in front of you, you said nothing before smiling saying : “Well hello handsome.”

How when Simon felt the first time during sex that he was connected to you. That the sex wasn’t for only pleasure but to feel like he was wanted. Appreciated. Cared for. He didn’t know what it meant. The passionate fucking became more and more. He loved the feeling when you grab his face to place his forehead against yours, looking into his eyes as you came for the fourth time. Or how you would know what spots got him GOING that no one else even him would know. Simon secretly loved when you had him babbling about you pussy as you would overstimulate him. Milking his cock more and more. “You know how to make me feel good.” “Ya can do anything you wan…” “Atta girl making me want more and more.” “Fuck me until I have no more to give.” Those would be the some of the many sentences that would leave his mouth as he panted. NEVER has a woman done that to him.

How he would ACTUALLY laugh as you both would tackle each other on the bed to see who was the strongest of course it’s him but he would let you “win.” Or how you would make a pretty good dad joke. Laugh at something so stupid. The way his chest would be filled, with what he could never know. It would just bring the child that never was able to come out as a kid as you both would throw frosting and flour at each other while baking.

The flip would come back when he would smell his favorite foods, that his mom use to make. He would have made a comment a long time ago and you would remember those small things. How his favorite snack would always be stocked. How his clothes would be folded how he liked them. How when you both would cuddle you would rub the back of his head and hum a lullaby that your mom sang, till he fell asleep. Making him feel safe.

Simon eventually figured out what the feelings he would get was. When he had his first nightmare in front of you, he would be thrashing and screaming. You would lull him awake as he would snap awake and ready to kill. You would rub his back shushing him, trying to get him back down from the adrenaline. Rub the back of his neck and head. He did eventually lay down on your chest, after you told him to listen to your heart. That you are real. Simon cried, the first time as well, silently at first until it turned to sobs. You shushed soothingly as you played with the back of his hair. “It’s okay.” “You’re safe.” You would mumble and then the one line you said that stopped his crying was “You are loved Si.”

Simon would tense, having you think that you messed up. Simon looked up to your face before reaching up to your cheek. After all these years. Decades. He finally found someone he truly cares for. All those feelings led to this moment. He smiled having all the pain from the nightmare be left behind.

This is love. He slowly fell in love with someone he never thought he deserved. Fuck how he missed it. How he missed the feeling of someone loving him. He missed loving someone else. His best friend. His soulmate if he wanted to get mushy.

He inhaled deeply before saying that sentence. That would make everything become real. “I love you too.” He would whisper and not be scared that you would disappear.

[signanothername]

I was wondering what you mean when you talk about the fact Killer feels nostalgic still for Nightmare, even after being saved by Color

Like do you mean he misses Nightmare, or he think he still deserves to be tormented, or some fucked up mix of both.

I love the timing of your ask Anon cause I literally started making a comic about this very topic just yesterday chhchchc

And it’s a fucked up mix of both

Killer genuinely misses Nightmare, but not in a healthy way where he misses Nightmare cause he was a good influence on him and his life, but rather a sort of fucked up Stockholm Syndrome situation in which Killer has gotten so used to Nightmare’s presence and nonstop abuse that it just feels wrong to him that Nightmare isn’t in his life anymore

But it’s also his self loathing making itself known, Killer doesn’t feel like he deserves Color’s love and Kindness, Killer hates himself and thinks he doesn’t deserve saving, and even it goes as far as Killer believing he deserves to be abused by Nightmare, that it’s just Karma for what he’s done, which is all absolute bullshit, but that’s how self loathing can distort your perception of yourself and what you experience

But it’s important to also understand that Killer went through that abuse for so long that it became the norm for him, where his perception of how bad it is is fucked up, where he thinks Nightmare wasn’t “so bad”

So Killer sometimes tries to do little things that brings back that familiarity, like calling Nightmare still, doing little things he used to do with/for Nightmare, etc

And i’d dare say Killer wants Nightmare to show up and to spend time with him even, as fucked up as that is (Killer will be even more of a bitch towards Nightmare, but it doesn’t change the fact Killer wishes to see him still)

Which is why I want to bring up the “a little life update” comic, like don’t get me wrong, that comic is absolutely wholesome and it’s meant to show how Killer’s life changed for the better after being saved and that will never change

But the thing is, it’s also supposed to show Killer’s inability to stay away from Nightmare in a way

The comic was about Killer making a call to keep going in his healing journey by getting some things off his chest without any repercussions, but it’s also meant to represent some of the deeper fucked up conditioning Killer went through that he isn’t able to get rid of yet

That’s why i have Killer saying this specifically 👇

I mean, why wouldn’t Killer have a “good answer” for why he’s telling Nightmare about his new life?

You see that Killer’s very first thought as to why he’s telling Nightmare about his now good life is that he’s maybe feeling nostalgic

But he also mentions “longing”, “hope”, and “bad habit”

These words weren’t randomly chosen, they were all intentionally picked

“Longing” cause Killer longs for Nightmare’s presence in his life, he misses his presence in his life

“Hope” cause Killer hopes for Nightmare’s approval

“Bad habit” cause Killer used to be the one to give Nightmare all the intel he needed, and Killer thinks that it’s maybe his “right hand man” habit of giving Nightmare info that he’s telling him everything

Only to finally say that it’s “spite”

And that’s completely true, Killer is spiteful and he wants to have Nightmare see that he can live a good happy life

But notice how I wrote “maybe” twice in that page and a “maybe” in the page before it? Yeah that’s completely intentional

Because while “spite” is true, it doesn’t mean that “nostalgia”, “longing”, “hope”, and “bad habit” aren’t also true, they all are true in their own right

Emotions are complicated and Killer lost his understanding of his own emotions, so he can’t truly settle for one answer to the question of why he’s calling Nightmare

But nostalgia is definitely something he feels that prompted that call

But here’s the thing, know how I always say Nightmare has “moments of kindness” (i got an ask about what that specifically means so imma leave the ramble for it for that ask ycfhfh) but Nightmare is almost always horrible in his treatment of Killer, but there are definitely times I like to call “down times” in which Nightmare isn’t an absolute abusive bitch to Killer

Where Nightmare actually treats Killer with a bit of decency, where he lets things slide and leaves Killer alone, or where he and Killer actually spend time together without Nightmare being an absolute bitch about it

That of course doesn’t make Nightmare’s overall treatment of Killer ok at all, but these kinda things also contribute to Killer’s fucked up nostalgia

Like Killer would legitimately tell Color that “Nightmare wasn’t so bad” sometimes cause of those “down times” and Color is working on making Killer realize that no, in fact, Nightmare was so bad

But Color also doesn’t want to push his own ideals onto Killer, he simply wants to help Killer realize it himself, it’s not a good idea to force Killer or to make Killer feel forced to do something cause 1- it’ll make Killer immediately close off, and 2- Color is no Nightmare, Killer had been forced to do things all his life and Color wants to respect Killer’s wishes and autonomy, lest Killer’s fucked up perception of control gets even worse

And god give Color patience cause Killer’s nostalgia is something that’ll take so much time for him to get rid off, if Killer even wants that nostalgia gone

[yellowocaballero]

“I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

As promised in last post. Kakashi & Obito roleswap. Barely. It's complicated. Please pay no attention to how many roleswaps I have written. Just ignore it. Do me a favor and do not think about it. OK? Thank you.

Snippet from a much longer, much messier document. This part was the very first part writiten and very much a proof of concept. I'm trying to figure out if I should overhaul the thing and turn this into an actual story, so let me know.

Short beginning scene of Tobito's Wild Ride under the cut.

“Tobi. Thank you for coming.”

Obviously, Tobi didn’t bow or kneel. That wasn’t the sort of person Tobi was. He just grinned broadly, waving so broadly that his body swayed with the motion. “Gramps! Hello! Wow, you’ve gotten old since I’ve seen you!”

Sarutobi chuckled, raising a pipe to his mouth. The pipe - either ‘I’m thinking hard’, ‘I want to pretend I’m thinking hard and giving due consideration to your idea when I don’t really care’, or ‘I’ve already decided and I’m pretending that you have a say in this’. What was the point of the last one? This was a literal military dictatorship. Tobi forgot how exhausting this man could be. 

“It has been a while,” Sarutobi said indulgently. “Since…the T&I incident, I believe?”

Tobi giggled, high and childish. “Inoichi-san got sooo mad. But Tobi said he was real, real, real sorry, so I hope he’s not still mad…oh, no.” Tobi gasped, face falling in desolation. “Is Inoichi-san still mad at me? Oh, Tobi can go apologize again -”

“It’s water under the bridge.” Tobi exhaled gustily, wiping the back of his hand against his brow. It wasn’t his fault Inoichi hated him. Apparently his mind was absolutely impenetrable. Something about constant children’s lullabies just playing full blast in his head. Or songs regarding a specific time of day someplace in the world. “I have to apologize, Tobi. I always feel as if I should keep a better eye on you. There’s never enough time in the day for all of the people we care about. Please forgive me for my inattention to you.”

Manipulative old fuck. Tobi panicked, embarrassed by the attention and affection. He waved his hands quickly, almost jumping up and down. “Gramps! It’s okay! Tobi’s not lonely or sad! He still has Sasuke-chan! Sasuke-chan wasn’t brutally murdered, so Tobi’s A-OK!” Tobi had to tell himself that a lot. Every morning after a nightmare, which meant every morning period. “And I met a really nice old lady yesterday and helped her down the street. She gave me an apple sweet. It was delicious! So there’s nothing to forgive, Gramps!”

“I’m glad,” Sarutobi said warmly. Ugh. Tobi knew objectively that Minato-sensei had tried to imitate that tone, but he still liked to convince himself that Sarutobi was mimicking Minato-sensei. That was a good one, he’d have to use it. “Sasuke-kun is actually why I called you here today.” 

That kid. Tobi sighed. “Tobi is sorry that Tobi cannot control Sasuke-chan. I’ve told him that punching Naruto-kun is bad, but he just doesn’t listen…”

“I’m sure you’ll find a method somehow.” Sarutobi pushed a thin file folder across the desk, and Tobi curiously stepped forward and picked it up. He’d know a file like that anywhere. It was a mission assignment folder. “I’m afraid I must call you out of retirement for a final mission.”

Cold ice shot through Tobi’s chest. Fuck.

Did he know? He couldn’t. If he knew, he wouldn’t show it like this. His visit with T&I would be a lot less cheerful, that’s for sure. Was he prodding Tobi, watching for his reaction? Did Sarutobi honestly think he’d slip up? Tobi was incapable of slipping up. He couldn’t tell the truth with a kunai to his throat at this point.

How did Tobi feel about this? Tobi sure as hell knew how Obito felt - desperately wondering if a T&I visit was in his future. Tobi was scared of the missions, sure. But he was a five year old. How would a five year old react to these things? 

Well. Tobi knew how he would have reacted. He would have sighed and rolled his eyes about yet another mission. Pretty impressive when you were burned out of your career at five years old. He blamed the two month graduation for years before he learned of Rin and Kakashi’s hell and eventually concluded that it could have been worse. At least Tobi was paid for his war zone. 

“A mission?” Tobi gushed. He clenched on the folder far too tightly, like a child clutching a wheezing frog. “I’m going on missions again?” He jumped a little, his usual little show of excitement. Kept his energy up. “Does that mean Gramps isn’t mad at me anymore?”

Tobi carefully snuck a glance up from the folder, checking Sarutobi’s expression. Sarutobi’s face was impassive stone, as usual, but he looked a little worn too. “We were never angry with you.”

Tobi fully looked up, tilting his head and frowning. “Nuh-uh. Tobi remembers. Everybody was so mad at Tobi. Just because his hand slipped…it wasn’t Tobi’s fault.”

“We know,” Sarutobi said gently. “Minato didn’t retire you because he was angry with you. He was only looking out for you.”

Well, Tobi didn’t want to be out of fucking retirement. It was objectively insane to put him on any mission. Tobi had gotten sabotaging every attempt to make him a useful member of society down to a fucking art. He had a shitton of inheritance to blow and a nice long civilian life to blow it on. Maybe he was too stubborn about it - Iruka was definitely convinced that he was the second laziest person in the village and sabotaged his assigned jobs on purpose, which Tobi would have resented if it wasn’t absolutely true - but spite was important. Spite woke him up in the morning. 

The only thing that helped him tolerate this stupid village was his hate for it. Ain’t that just the way.

“What sort of mission is it?” Tobi asked excitedly, ripping open the folder. He held the paper up and slowly mouthed the words on the page, fighting to get through the page. Look at him, he filled out his mission reports in crayon and could barely read. “Mission report…assignment duration, promotion or release…pay…oh, ew…assignment…jounin sensei…”

Tobi trailed off.

Distantly, he heard himself say, “Um. Maybe this is a mistake?”

“Trust me. You’re hardly our first choice.” Finally, they agreed on something. “But you’re the only one in this village with a Sharingan, Tobi. You’re the only one who can teach Sasuke how to use his power.”

“Nuh-uh. Um. This is a mistake. Ha ha.” Tobi ripped the paper from the folder, crumpling it into a ball and tossing it over his shoulder. “Because, um, I can’t use my Sharingan. Did Gramps maybe forget that? Ha ha?”

“But you still remember how to use it. Even if you can’t use it yourself, you can still walk Sasuke-kun through using his.” Sarutobi eyed Tobi knowingly, the dim glowing embers of his pipe reflecting a soft light in his eyes. “You were once a genius with the Sharingan, Tobi. They said you were the best since Madara.”

Yeah! Yeah, they did say that, old man! That was the whole fucking problem!

Mention of the Sharingan or Tobi’s old talents always upset him, so this was a great springboard into nipping this in the bud. He’d throw a hissy fit if he had to. Tobi had killer hissy fits. That was how Sasuke was given a seat as head of house in the Clan Council. Tobi’s wail could pierce eardrums and Sasuke had deserved that fucking seat. 

“Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan anymore!” Tobi exclaimed. “Tobi wants to help Sasuke-chan, Gramps, cross Tobi’s heart! But Tobi doesn’t like the Sharingan and the Sharingan don’t like Tobi. And that’s just the truth.” Tobi crossed his arms, sniffling and scrunching his nose. “And don’t say what you’re gonna say. Tobi knows what’s up. Minato-sensei’s little boy is on that team too, isn’t he?”

He absolutely was. Tobi had speed-read the entire document while he was reading it out loud. But even the remnant of Obito’s genius was still considerable, and Tobi’s moments of keen insight were useful for pushing the enemy into a corner. 

“I thought you might appreciate the chance to look after your sensei’s son,” Sarutobi said mildly, removing a silver lighter from his pocket. Engraved, a gift from Biwako. Was that on purpose? A mind game on Tobi, an unconscious memory on his part, or a purposeful evocation of a memory just for him? Was he trying to remind Tobi of something or corner Obito? Damn this man. “Help him like your sensei helped you.”

The really great thing about Tobi was that he could get away with saying this. It was only to the left of cathartic, but at least it was in the zone. “I’m not stupid, Gramps!” Tobi yelled. The ANBU in the corners twitched, but when Sarutobi’s fingernail clicked on the silver lighter they subsided. “You’re giving Minato-sensei and Kushina-neechan’s little baby and his fox to the last Sharingan because you want the Sharingan to eat the Fox! Why are you doing what you want when you know it won’t work? Tobi’s tried, he can’t - he can’t, Gramps.”

It wasn’t the sort of thing any self-respecting Uchiha would admit. Half of them would kill themselves if they lost their Sharingan. Uchiha Obito, whose Sharingan was the pride and joy of the clan - who was the Uchiha’s Uchiha before Itachi-kun was even a twinkle in his mother’s eye - would never abandon his one point of value. 

And everybody knew how prideful the Uchiha were. There was no Uchiha alive who would pretend to be Tobi. Could you imagine? What Uchiha would humiliate themselves like this with a goofy smile on their face? A regular human being could barely do it. An Uchiha? Forget it. Impossible.

But Kushina-neechan’s favorite shinobi was always the most surprising of all. And Obito cared about that more than all the rest. 

The only ninja who would have ferreted him out was Kakashi. Kakashi and his dopey, stupid smile. His ridiculous porn books and his clumsy pratfalls. His laziness, lateness, and utter underachiever lifestyle. Only Kakashi ever said those words, with a wink and a smile: a true shinobi looked underneath the underneath. So save your energy and watch the clouds with me, Uchiha-kun. No? Maybe next time…

The next time never came. Being a good Uchiha had always meant something, and the useless son of a disgraced clan meant nothing at all. Nothing to anybody but Minato and Kushina and Rin and Obito.

“You’re better than nothing.” In that second, Sarutobi really did look very tired. He didn’t look like he was lying at all. “You’re the best we have, Tobi.”

Tobi was silent. Sarutobi knew it wasn’t much of a compliment. Even somebody like Tobi would know that. 

“As a favor to Sasuke-kun and Naruto-kun,” Sarutobi said, “and as a favor to me. Please give these children the help you can. Don’t worry - I’ll ask the other jounin to pitch in and help.” 

Tobi lowered his voice, and he allowed his tone to grow a little more serious. “I’m not strong. I’m not good at molding chakra and I haven’t really fought anyone in a long time. I can’t protect the children.” 

“We’ll be careful,” Sarutobi allowed. But there was something in his eye… “You may be rusty, but I doubt you’re out of the ring yet. Have a little faith in yourself.” The look in his eyes glinted and grew, and for the first time he stared right at Tobi. “You did hold your own against Uchiha Itachi.”

They stared at each other for a long second, two. A little too late, Tobi laughed and scrubbed the back of his neck. “Silly Gramps! I said a billion times. Tobi hid. I don’t think Itachi-kun thought it was worth it to kill me…I don’t think Itachi-kun ever thought I was a real Uchiha. But we’ve showed him, huh?” Tobi grinned, jabbing a finger at his chest. “Now there’s three whole Uchiha in the whole wide world! One third’s a serial killer, one third’s twelve, and one third is…drumroll please…Tobi! Konoha’s in good hands, ne?”

Tobi smiled at the man who ordered Uchiha Itachi to kill their entire family.

Sarutobi smiled back at the man who was currently pulling the most intricate and improbable lying campaign in a village of ninjas. In Obito’s defense, it was to save his own life. Sarutobi had murdered his family to - well, save the village, but Tobi didn’t have to like it. 

“Thank you for accepting the mission. I trust you’ll do splendidly.”

“Uh. Tobi didn’t -”

“The children ought to be waiting for you in the schoolroom at 1000 hours. You ought to head over - I expect you’re already late.”

Tobi squealed, looking at the unwound watch on his wrist and slapping his head. “Oh no! I’m late, I’m late, I’m late! Bye, Gramps! You promise-promise to get back-up for Tobi, right?”

Pleasantly, Sarutobi said, “I would not trust you alone with those children, no.”

“Yay! Okay, gotta goooo!”

When he left Sarutobi’s office, he was about ten minutes late to his meeting with the children. By the time he arrived at the school he was over an hour late. Lost on the road of life and all that. It didn’t matter - venting about this ridiculousness to Kakashi was way more important than meeting the brats on time.

This would be a disaster. There was no way this would end well. Tobi was a brain damaged, traumatized moron who couldn’t use his one skill and who hadn’t been on active duty since he whoopsie-daisy’d his sword into his best friend’s heart. If Sarutobi didn’t keep up his promise and drag in the other jounin to take up his slack then he’d riot. Did he want Tobi to do work? Tobi? He had resigned from capitalism and the military industrial complex. Pulling him into this shit again - as if he hadn’t suffered enough -

As if Sasuke and Naruto hadn’t. Maybe one of Sarutobi’s stupid-ass motivations was because he knew that only Tobi would be nice to Sasuke and Naruto. Damn Naruto especially. For that, at least…if only as a favor to Minato-sensei…

To make up for it…maybe a little bit of real work would be the least he could do.

Ugh. Hopefully not that much.

Tobi finally touched down at the school, following the Academy hallways to Sasuke’s classroom by route memory. He dropped off Sasuke’s lunch a lot. It embarrassed him so much. It was classic.

Tobi walked into the classroom and allowed a large basket of glitter to fall on top of his head.

A peal of laughter squealed throughout the room, and Tobi opened his eyes to see Uzumaki Naruto clutching his sides and laughing his ass off. Quite rudely, Sasuke had his feet propped up on a desk. That third girl was sitting primly in her seat, terrified. 

“What an idiot! Our new sensei actually fell for - wait.” Naruto straightened, squinting at Tobi. He yelled, jabbing a finger at him. “Hey! Number Two Ramen Fan! What the hell are you doing here?”

Sasuke almost fell out of his seat. He scrambled to his feet, panicked in his special Sasuke way - that was, eyes a little wider than usual. “Tobi? Did I forget my lunch?”

“Um?” Sakura Haruno hunched her shoulders in her seat, picking at the corner of a scroll. “Uchiha Obito’s our sensei. I thought you knew. Did you…not know?”

“Is this a joke?” Sasuke cried. “Who the hell thought this was funny? Tobi couldn’t fight his way out of a paper bag! If they’re bullying us again, I swear to god I’ll strangle whoever -”

“Whoah,” Naruto cried, impressed. “Violent!”

“Everybody’s always bullying Tobi,” Sasuke snapped. “I’m an Uchiha. What sort of Uchiha would I be if I tolerated that?”

Glitter dripped down Tobi’s hair and sprinkled onto his clothing. He smiled, big and bright, and clapped his hands together. Sasuke was groaning, but Naruto and Sakura just leaned in closer - caught in a morbid curiosity, desperate to meet their own fate. Signed and sealed. “Tobi’s first impression of you all is…you’re so funny! Tobi likes you!”

The kids paled. 

[reds-skull]

Fic recs - oneshots (part 4)

I'm currently in like, a lot of pain (...don't ask), so what better way to distract myself than cataloging some fics!

Last time I said I'll do a list of writers, but I noticed that so much time has passed that I've collected enough oneshots for another post like this, so I'm doing this first.

A couple of ones here are from shadowforest-wolf's lists, go check these posts out if you want more recs!

As always, sfw oneshots, if there are any dead links you need fixing let me know!

Sea of Love by MiddlemistsRed (chiakashie) - Soap keeps dying in Al Mazrah and Ghost reincarnates each time to save him.

Offhand Remarks by bisexual_werewolf - Ghost doesn’t think Soap is a good enough soldier. Soap tries his best to fix that. (Spoilers: It doesn’t work)

You'd Be the Mercy Under My Cruelty by ajax_in_agony - Ghost takes care of Soap in the aftermath of "Alone".

TV. by Kodalax - Ghost thinks Soaps mad at him so he distances himself as much as possible and clams up like he’s a child again. [this is a series with a second work from Soap's POV]

where the nightmares end by oh_ellie - Soap is sitting up in his bed, the sheets shoved off of his body and sweat beading on his forehead and running down his temple. It's dark in his room and far too quiet.

taken a shine to me? by oh_ellie - Soap is captured by Graves during alone [this has a second work which is nsfw]

Eleven by VibeDemon - Ghoap get stuck in an elevator. [this is just a little funny one :)]

He's The Gift That Just Keeps Giving! by StrixDaddy - some hurt/comfort featuring Christmas fluff.

Hold On To Me by iamtheidiot - That's when he saw it. A goddamn fucking knife sticking out of the man's right side, his arm at an angle like he was trying to conceal the thing from Soap.

Ghostly Music by oh_heccity - A 5+1 where Soap helps Ghost learn to have a healthy relationship with music, it, of course, has its ups and downs.

My heart in your hands keeps going on by FetteEule - 5 times Ghost is forced to go on leave and 1 time he takes leave on purpose.

Bleeding Sands by Islenthatur - What if Soap was one of the 15 who survived Operation Sand Viper [COD Ghosts Soap]

notre dame by merikai - Soap is stuck under rubble, but it takes a while until someone comes to the rescue.

heaven help the fool who falls in love by merikai - Soap has a "girl". Ghost tries to find out more.

leave it to the land by merikai - “Hypothermic,” Ghost mutters, more to himself as a note than to Soap. “You're delirious. Need to get you warmed up.”

no shortage of sordid by merikai - Hassan's men have taken Soap hostage—but there are things worse than this.

Dehiscence (Opening of a Wound) by made1for1life1 - Johnny knows his mind doesn't work the same as other people's. Maybe he just needs to try harder. Trying harder is a lot harder than he thought.

A quick game of chess by cheersyaslag - when Ghost tells him to shut up, he doesn't exactly know why it hurts so damn much. Maybe he's being too sensitive. But he does shut up. He will do as he's told for once.

Observations and Ink by Fearless_leaderr - He shifts nervously as the other man flips through the pages, and Soap can feel sweat begin to collect on his brow. "Didn't know you could draw like this, Johnny."

Still got like 3 days until I finish the semester, but I already got so many ideas for comics and drawings and fics it's not even funny. I'm gonna have so much fun once I'm finally done with my work T_T

[cillianmesoftlyyy]

I Can Fix That... Pt. 2 | Jonathan Crane x fem!reader

author's note: I decided to make a pt. 2 purely for my own enjoyment, though I hope there are others out there as sadistic as myself. I finally watched the Batman trilogy and did research on DC fan pages to write this. It follows the plot of Nolan's DC adaptation so all characters mentioned (like Ra's Al Ghul) are from the comics and movies.

Summary| She gave into Crane because she needed to survive, at least that's what she's tried to tell herself, but there was something about this man that just felt so painfully... right. Now Crane has a proposition and he doesn't intend to take no for an answer because he's starting to like her -- uh oh-- too much. Where will their new agreement lead them when Gotham devolves into chaos?

Warnings| Based on an DC action movie- drugging, slut shaming, fear and terror, dubious kidnapping, restraints, drugs, physical violence, spitting, toxic relationship, mentions of a gun, chaos, and needles. I know- it's a lot.

word count: 8596k (lol oopsies?)

Wires- The Neighborhood 🎶

Where did you sleep last night- Iridium, Salazar, Liam Marks 🎵

Caesar on a TV Screen- The Last Dinner Party 🎶

i 

The detective nodded her head, surprised that she’d so easily forgotten her plan. Dr. Crane sniffed and spun his set of keys around his finger casually. 

“Now the best thing about being the creator of my fear serum,” he started, moving to the shelf of vials he had previously sorted, “is that I have an endless supply and every opportunity to use it whenever I want.” She could hear him smile but she could no longer see him. Crane admittedly liked the girl and he’d fucked her as a minor pivot in his original plan for the night. Now, it was time for business. He pulled a dish of powder from a locked drawer and hid it away from sight as he crossed back into the girl’s view. “You may think you understand what my serum can do, but you’ll never truly know until you try it.” She furrowed her brow and shook her head, wishing that she could back away from him but she couldn’t move. He changed the subject swiftly, not giving her a moment. 

“I applaud you for your performance tonight. I was more than willing to humor you and of course, your present state did you many favors. I like my women tied down…” he joked and chuckled darkly. “But now, we need to get practical.” He removed his glasses and folded them slowly. He slipped them into his breast pocket. “You know too much, Miss —, and we both know that your current allegiance to your job would prioritize a crude sense of justice over your affection for me. We can’t have that, can we? So, I’d like to propose a solution or a treatment of sorts.” He clenched his jaw, angling his head down so that he was looking up at her through his eyelashes. “You’ve already proven to yourself tonight that the mind has complete control over the body. Desire rules judgment… and I want to rule you.” He smiled darkly. Before she could speak, powder was thrown into her face, blocking every orifice with a sickening gas. 

The anxiety was immediate. She saw strange creatures approach her from all sides, poking and prodding her with dirty nails. She saw the walls leak a disgusting fluid, like blood and fecal matter and it spilled over the floor. People sorted through the liquid for scraps, children screamed and cried around her. She’d been one of those children, raised in an orphanage because her parents couldn’t afford to keep her. Strange men swarmed the children, offering toxic treats and money for favors which the children shied away from. She screamed, pulling at her restraints as she tried to fight off the assailants. She shook her head violently side to side, and she screamed involuntarily with raw terror at what she saw. In the midst of a nightmare of Gotham’s poverty and dark underbelly, Dr. Jonathan Crane stood calmly before her. He watched her, his arms crossed against his chest. He cocked his head to the side. 

“What do you see,” he asked calmly. She turned her attention to him like he was a beacon of light in a horrible storm. 

“Jonathan, help me!” She cried. 

“Tell me what you see,” he said again and clucked his tongue to calm her. She looked around again at the people she saw, rummaging through mountains of trash. 

“Horrible… horrible poverty. The things… the things I saw as a child. People starving, children crying…” she whimpered. Rats scrambled across her body and she screamed again, shaking against the table. “Jonathan, please!” She called for him and he waded towards her, oblivious to the horror around him. He stood above her and stroked her face. He removed the restraints from her waist and her wrists and helped her sit up. The things she saw darted out of her peripheral vision, distorted now and hard to understand. She couldn’t run because she couldn’t tell where she was anymore, where her body was in relation to her perspective. Did she even still have a body?

Dr. Crane grunted as he helped her off the table and held her up beside him. She fainted in his arms and he carried her out of the secondary lab into the corridor. He punched the elevator’s call button with his free hand and dragged her inside. As the large steel doors closed, he fished for his cellphone in his pocket and called his driver, telling him to meet him outside the hospital immediately. Crane hushed her, gently patting her head though she was still unconscious. The elevator dropped them at the floor she’d entered on originally and Crane carried her to the side door, ignoring the looks the night attendants gave the strange couple. A sleek black car waited outside in the alley, the engine running and dispelling smoky exhaust into the air around them. Crane opened the car door and helped her inside, smirking at the security guard at the door. 

“Our meeting was successful, thank you officer.” He waved goodnight to the security guard who shifted awkwardly in his seat at the side door. Climbing in after her, Crane leaned over the console to speak with his driver. 

“My apartment, please.” He gave the order sternly, even with the addition of the ‘please,’ and the driver nodded, speeding off into Gotham’s dark streets. His hand rested comfortably on her thigh as he watched her. She started to come to in the backseat, though the effects of the drug had still not worn off. Her breath was fast and she leaned deliriously into Crane’s shoulder, seeking protection from what she saw outside the tinted windows. She was so afraid that she felt safer in the arms of the man that had drugged her, and it would take hours to realize that, but by the time she did, the psychological effects would have already taken root. 

ii 

The car stopped outside of a dark apartment building in one of the only nice parts of town in Gotham city. It was raining as he helped her back out of the car and into the large lobby of his apartment building. She clung to his arm as he led her into an elevator, playing a soft melody that sounded like shrill screams to her intoxicated mind. As the elevator doors opened, effects of the drug began to wane though her heartbeat was still racing. She looked up at Crane’s sharp jaw and how he clenched it as he opened the door to his apartment and pushed her gently inside. 

“I pay my people extra to turn a blind eye to everything that I do. I understand these circumstances appear even more nefarious, being that I have admittedly drugged you and brought you to my apartment. What can I say, I’m a bad feminist.” He smiled darkly and locked the door. 

“When do I stop seeing… these things?” She collapsed into a chair behind her and cradled her head in her hands. 

“The effects will be gone in an hour,” he responded coolly and switched on some of the lights in his modern apartment. The apartment was two stories with a spiral staircase and an elevator that led to the upstairs. She looked around, trying her best to ignore the hallucinations and study the actual apartment itself. 

“You’ll be disappointed to know that I don’t have a lab here, it’s against the building’s codes. I spend very little time here actually, I’m always at Arkham or dealing with detectives… like you. I’m a busy man. Like I already told you, I have plans to ‘treat’ Falcone tomorrow so I’ll need that room free. This is the next best option and I think you’ll find it more comfortable in comparison.” He smirked and flicked a switch, immediately two restraints looped tightly around her wrists, emerging from a panel in the arms of the chair that she hadn’t noticed. Second restraints looped around her ankles, reminding her as her ankles were spread apart that he had removed her underwear. She turned her knees inward, hiding her crotch and scoffing with frustration. 

“Again?” She groaned and pulled at the strong leather material holding her to the chair. 

“You sound disappointed,” Crane observed with a small smirk. “It’s only temporary. I didn’t get a chance to question you back at the lab, so we’ll do that here.” He gestured to his empty apartment and started to walk toward her slowly. His lips curled cruelly as he looked her up and down, strapped to the chair. “So tell me, what do you know?” He whispered and she stopped struggling for a moment. She still felt jumpy and nervous but having him so close relieved some of those feelings. The effects of the drug wore off more but the underlying sense of anxiety and loss of control prompted her to answer honestly.

I know that you are trying to make a powerful drug that mimics fear and so far, you’ve put it in a powder form. It works when ingested in some ways and immediately elicits a response that incapacitates the victim. You want to use it widely, to control Gotham…”

“Right, what else.” He leaned on the arms of the chair, his hands grasped around her wrists. 

“You don’t work for Falcone but you work with someone else. You’ve just been using Falcone’s drug operation to move your own prototypes of the fear serum. You want to be in charge and you know that fear can do whatever you want it to. The mind controls the body,” she recalled a sentence that he had used before he had thrown the powder in her face. “You’re also somehow connected to the missing micro-wave emmitter. I don’t know why but it may help you in some way, how?” She was breathing heavily like she was going to fall asleep. 

“Good work, detective.” 

“What are you using the micro-wave emitter for?” She asked. He chuckled and removed his hands from her wrists, backing up. He approached a small liquor cart and poured himself a drink, straight gin. She continued as he drank. 

“Who are you working with and how do you expect to control Gotham when everyone loses their minds?” She could barely contain her voice, anger and confusion rose into her throat like bile. 

“So many questions…” he swallowed and set down his glass, turning back to her slowly. “Aren’t you supposed to figure that out for yourself?” He raised his eyebrow. 

“The mirco-wave emitter would dry out any water supply that it comes into contact with. Wouldn’t it be easier to poison the water supply, you would reach more people… unless it doesn’t have the same effect when administered in water.” She looked up at him but his face was hard. “That’s why you’ve been using it in a powder, it only works in a powder form. If you dry up the water supply and release the powder into the air, there isn’t a way to combat the effects, is there?” 

Crane smiled and nodded slowly, “right again.” 

“How can you control people who have lost their minds on the serum? You can’t control chaos.” She furrowed her brow and leaned forward, questioning him. Crane cocked his head and studied her for a moment, noticing the last traces of the fear serum leaving her body. 

“Control has many forms, Y/N. The chaos that will come from my serum is planned, its existence is strategically executed.”

“But why are you doing this?” 

“I love it when you get flustered,” he chuckled darkly at her and licked his lips, his eyes rolling before returning to her face. “It’s not just me, I work for a large organization that has been responsible for all historical catastrophes throughout history. We deal in balance, balanced chaos. They hired me because I can control fear, I know how to use it and weaponize it. Gotham needs to be balanced and it cannot be balanced without it first destroying itself. Create a closed environment with the population’s problems and confront them with chaos, the balance will soon be restored.” 

“Who do you work for?” She whispered, her eyes wide. 

“Don’t you mean, who do we work for?” He crouched at her feet and placed his hands on her thighs. He smiled crazily up at her and she leaned away from him. 

“What?” She whispered. 

“I work for the League of Shadows, and now, so do you.” He dug his finger into the soft bottom of her chin and pushed her head up so that she could see the second floor more clearly. 

Standing at the rail were men clad in dark armor. One man stood out from the rest. He wore a black suit and carried a gold-tipped cane. He had long whiskers of gray hair like a mustache and steady cool eyes, deadlier than Crane’s.  

“Good work, Dr. Crane.” The man kept his focus on her and her blood went cold. “It’s so nice to finally meet you, Miss —. We’ve heard so much about you and of course, you’re the one that has caused us so much trouble!” He laughed sarcastically and descended the spiral staircase. 

“Who are you?” She growled. 

“Ra’s Al Ghul,” he smiled and the wrinkles on his face creased, pulling against his eyes. “I see you’ve already become acquainted with Dr. Crane, our very own criminal mastermind.”

“You’re too kind,” Crane smarted back, watching the girl’s face as she tried to take in all of the new information. 

“Now, I have a job proposition to offer you, Miss —. You seem to have figured most of our plan out but I don’t think you understand the complexity of our organization. You see, the League of Shadows is an ancient organization that has balanced the harmony of every major city in the world since the beginning of time. Gotham has gone bad, to the point of no return. Your ‘Batman’ as you call him can’t reverse what has been brewing for years. He never saw what you did, how the people of Gotham live in filth and poverty while the elite few enjoy the spoils. This city needs to be reborn, it needs chaos to restore the balance.”

“But wouldn’t you be killing thousands of innocent people?” She interjected and Al Ghul shrugged slightly. 

“Nobody’s innocent,” he answered quickly and then inhaled, clarifying, “Anyway, that’s not what we want to do here. If we take control of the city and hold it for ransom, we can work out a deal to replace the crooked government with some of our people. I’m offering you a role alongside my people. You’re smart, all that evidence you collected against Crane- none of the senior officers could have held a match to it. We destroyed it of course, as soon as Crane told us about your little visit.” She looked past Al Ghul to Crane who leaned against the wall calmly. Had they destroyed the copies? How could she be sure that they were telling the truth? “The box of evidence you had put aside for Sgt. Gordon was the hardest to find but we found it. What made you suspect Dr. Crane? Was it a gut instinct?” He drew on before she interrupted him. 

“You want me to help you kill people?” She furrowed her brow and nearly laughed in disbelief. 

“We want your help to save Gotham from itself and establish a new and better government.” He corrected, fixing his posture. Crane watched her closely and spoke up from the back of the room. 

“She’ll do it,” he answered and she opened her mouth to interject but his smirk silenced her. “She’ll do it because whether or not she wants to admit it, Miss —, is like us.” Crane reached into his breast pocket and removed his glasses. He cleaned the panels with a dish towel and pushed them onto his nose. She looked between Crane and Al Ghul, her heart beating quickly in her chest. 

“Will you join us, will you help us save Gotham?” Ra’s Al Ghul placed both of his hands on top of his walking stick and shifted his weight evenly between his feet. Crane folded his arms across his chest and cocked his head to the side, a knowing smile played on his wide pink lips. Her decision surprised her but the serum had already changed her chemistry, Crane had revealed her true self to herself and there was only one choice left. 

“Yes,” she whispered. 

Crane nodded, “good girl.” 

iii 

She was released from her restraints and she rubbed her wrists where the leather marked them. Ra’s Al Ghul snapped his fingers and a map was rolled out on Crane’s dining room table. The map was of the entire city of Gotham, showing the sewer and water lines. They explained the plan, showing her where the micro-wave emitter would be placed in the city and how it would be moved through each neighborhood. 

“What about the police?” She asked and gestured to the map of the city. Crane laughed and shook his head. 

“You were the only cop that suspected this, the rest will have no idea until it's already started. The person we really need to worry about is Batman,” he ran his fingers through his hair and glanced up at Al Ghul, “luckily for him, an old friend is coming by to visit.” Al Ghul nodded and smiled kindly at her. 

“Batman and I go way back. I’ll take care of him.” 

“What am I supposed to do?” She asked, her arms crossed beneath her breasts. Crane caught himself staring and cleared his throat. 

“You’ll help me with the production of the powder, ensuring that your cop friends don’t figure out too much and keeping Sgt. Gordon away from Arkham or leading him astray… anything,” Crane answered, setting his face as he spoke. She nodded. 

Though they had asked her to join their efforts, they also obviously didn’t trust her completely. They wouldn’t tell her everything, she knew. Her night had gone in a completely different direction than how she had imagined it. Everything had changed after the fear serum, it had shown her that what she feared most had already happened. The police were corrupt, run by small-time gangsters and criminals and crime continued to run rampant as the state lost more and more money, forcing social service organizations to close and more families out on the streets. This whole time she thought that the police could solve the problem but they only caused it. Crane was right, she was like him and she would do anything she could to change the city. After the meeting, Crane poured her a drink and dissolved a packet of powder into the liquor. He stirred it in front of her and Al Ghul before sliding it across the table’s surface. 

“This will put you to sleep for a few hours, twelve at most. It’s only a precaution to make sure that you have truly promised your allegiance to us. Everything that you say will be monitored from this point on.”

“Everything?” She looked at Crane who clenched his jaw, a faint tease of blush spread on his cheeks.

“Everything. Do as we say and follow our rules and you stay alive,” Crane finished and tapped the rim of the glass. “Now drink.” 

“How do I know that you aren’t just poisoning me?” She asked the men around her.

“We’re learning to trust each other, but you have to go first.” He smiled and when Al Ghul said nothing, she took the glass and drank it slowly. The last thing she saw were Crane’s eyes, set perfectly on her. 

She was conscious enough to set her glass down before falling back onto the couch. Crane approached her quickly and checked her pulse, monitoring her reaction to the drug. 

“Did it work?” Ra’s Al Ghul asked behind him and he nodded. 

“Yes, she’s out. Because of all the drugs in her system already, this one may take longer to wear off.” 

“All the other drugs?” Al Ghul raised his eyebrow and Crane chuckled. 

“I couldn’t help myself and besides,” he turned to Al Ghul, “you wanted her alive.” 

“I’m not convinced that we can trust her,” Al Ghul shook his head and pointed at the map for his men to clean up. 

“Oh, I’ll make sure we can.” 

“With your mind tricks?” Al Ghul teased and Crane sighed, rolling his beautiful eyes. 

“Don’t insult me, Ra’s. I know what I’m doing.” He warned the man calmly and nodded to the men. Two men helped carry her body as Crane led them back down the elevator into the lobby which was deserted at that time in the early morning. They climbed into Crane’s waiting car and pulled away from the curb. The girl’s body was limp against the seat and Crane resisted the urge to stare at her, fascinated by her sleeping body. The men carried her up to her apartment on the third floor of a small walkup. Crane rummaged through her coat pockets for the key into her apartment and unlocked the door. 

Her apartment was small and cozy, furnished with minimal couches and chairs. Books and art decorated the walls. Crane pushed through the door and directed the men to lie her down in her bedroom, the small room off of the main living area. They men looked back at him expectantly as he stood by the doorway, watching her sleep. He rolled his eyes and shooed them away. What did they think he was going to do? He’d already fucked her. Alone in her apartment, he stood by her bed and stroked her cheek. She slept on, engulfed by unconscious darkness. He leaned over her slowly and grasped her throat gently, exhaling across her face. He said nothing but looked her up and down and smirked, pleased at the sight of her. He’d won another spoil: her. 

 She woke up in her bed, twisted in the sheets as if she had been restless all night. She was sweaty and hot, the air stuffy around her. Crane and Al Ghul were nowhere to be seen. She checked her watch and hurried out of bed, stripping off her clothes from the night before and into black trousers and a dark blue sweater. She stumbled into the living room and wound her hair up into a claw clip, moving towards the door when a voice startled her. 

“Where do you think you’re going?” Dr. Crane spoke from the couch. He was in a fresh suit and looked well-rested. He was taking notes in a file on Falcone, his briefcase sat on the coffee table in front of him. She jumped, gasping from shock. 

“Jesus Christ, what are you doing here?” 

“I was waiting for you to wake up. We have work to do today. That bitch at the DA’s office wants to speak with me. I'm supposed to meet with her this afternoon. She’s questioning Falcone’s transfer.”

“I ordered the transfer after you did Falcone’s interview, maybe I could meet with her instead.” 

“No, I need you to take this file to the judge on Falcone’s case. I can handle her questions.” He stood and held out Falcone’s file. “I already gave my statement at the hearing but this file will confirm my medical opinion, hopefully that will get her off my back.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. 

“Do you think Falcone will talk if she speaks with him?” 

“Possibly,” he bent his head side to side and shrugged, “but we aren’t going to find out. Let’s go,” he snapped his briefcase closed and made for the front door. She glanced from the couch to her bedroom.

“Were you watching me all night?” She flushed angrily and followed him. He closed the door suddenly and spun her around, forcing her back against the front door. 

“I can only say this once because they aren’t listening now but as soon as we get in the car, they’ll be monitoring you. I am keeping you alive, Miss —. I will do everything in my power to keep you alive but the second you step away from me, you’re on your own. I know we have an understanding so believe me when I say that I would prefer very much if you didn’t die. Follow my directions because they’re following you.” He said in a harsh whisper, a strand of hair falling into his face. They stared at each other in silence, exchanging breath when he kissed her harshly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and moaned softly against his lips. He bucked into her hips and she gasped softly against his jaw. And just as quickly, he pulled away, breathing heavily and led her out the door and down the stairs into the waiting car. 

“I’ll need my gun back,” she pointed out as they settled on the backseat. Crane sighed, unbuttoning his suit jacket. He opened a small compartment in the car door and retrieved her gun. As he held it out, he took her jaw in his other hand, his thumb pressing into her fleshy cheek. 

“This is where that trust would come in handy, detective.” He whispered darkly. She looked at his lips and then up to his eyes, speechless around him. He watched her struggle for words and chuckled, handing her the gun. “Be careful, Y/N, and remember Ra’s plan.” He looked at her lips and sniffed, slapping the roof of the car. “This is her stop.” 

iv 

She met with the judge who oversaw Falcone’s case and gave him the thick folder. He looked at it briefly before recognizing the information. 

“I appreciate you coming out to speak to me about Falcone’s transfer to Arkham but I cleared everything with Ms. Dawes yesterday. She’s already scheduled a second psychiatrist to meet with Falcone first thing tomorrow morning. She mentioned that she’s also requested Dr. Crane’s case file. Has she seen this?” He waved the folder and she clicked her tongue, shocked that she had scheduled a second opinion and that Crane didn’t know about it.

“I’m not sure, sir. I was the detective working with the prosecution and I was the one who oversaw Dr. Crane’s examination and request for transfer. I can attest to Falcone's mood at the time as well. He screamed nonstop as Crane was trying to conduct a test of sanity. Anyway, I wanted to make sure that you saw Dr. Crane’s diagnosis in the aftermath of his transfer. This has updated notes that Dr. Crane shared with me. It might be useful in your deliberation.” She smiled and the judge looked down his nose at the folder. 

“Good point. Thank you, detective. This is helpful.” He opened the folder on his desk and put on his rounded spectacles. 

“Well now that we’ve spoken, I’ll try to catch Dawes and save her the trouble.” She pushed back her chair and brushed off her trousers. 

“Miss —?” The judge called from his desk. 

“Yes, sir?” She looked back.

“Dr. Crane has committed many of Falcone’s men to Arkham in the past few months, is that correct?” 

“Yes,” she nodded and her heart raced. 

“That must be a pretty crazy group.” The judge laughed and went back to the folder, completely missing the pattern. She sighed in relief and left quickly. She started to walk to Arkham, moving so quickly she felt like she may have been running. Dawes had already scheduled a second opinion, meaning that she was probably at Arkham pressuring Crane for his detailed diagnosis. It would take Dawes one second to figure it out so she hoped she could get there quickly enough to do something. She had no plan which she knew was stupid but whatever was bound to happen in the next few hours would be bad and she needed to help Crane. Her phone began to ring and she put it to her ear. 

“Hello?”

“Y/N.”

“Ra’s?”

“Are you on your way to Arkham?”

“Yes, sir.” 

“Turn around and go back to your precinct. I want you to stick close to Sgt. Gordon, go where he goes. You’re his top detective so run with it. If anything happens at Arkham, he’ll be there and I want you there with him. Crane will be fine.”

She slowed to a stop, skeptical but wanting to believe what her new boss was telling her, “ok, sir.”

After a second of silence, Ra’s added, “It’s Batman’s birthday and what better way to celebrate a playboy than with chaos?” The call ended before she could respond. 

She spun around and headed straight for the precinct. She spotted Gordon at his desk, working on paperwork. She hurried over and knocked on the door, letting herself in when he waved. 

“Good, I’m glad to see you. I need to run some ideas by you for the Falcone case.” 

“I just dropped off Crane's diagnosis for the judge but he said that Dawes may be seeking a second opinion.” 

“About that -” The intercom went off with a loud screech. 

“Attention all units! Attention all units! Batman was spotted at Arkham Asylum. He is believed to be armed and dangerous. Backup is requested at this time.” The voice repeated with a robotic drone. Sgt. Gordon looked from the speaker to her and grabbed his coat from his chair. 

“We need to get to the asylum right now.” Gordon yelled and she followed him closely, checking that her gun was still secured to her hip. She clipped her badge to her front pocket and pretended to sound confused. 

“Why are we going, Sgt? Do you think this is about Falcone?”

“It might, I’d feel better if I was there to find out; and if Batman is there, someone’s in trouble.” They hurried down the stairs and climbed into a car. Gordon sped away from the precinct and ran red lights. The tires bled across the roads as they came to a screeching halt behind a row of police cars parked outside the Asylum. 

“Why is everyone waiting outside?” She yelled over the noise. An officer standing with his gun aimed at the building yelled back. 

“We’re waiting for backup!”

“They’ll be here soon, sir. We should wait!” She yelled over the noise at the Sgt. 

Gordon looked up at the building and pulled his gun from his holster. He started moving towards the building, looking back to wave her on. 

“I’m going in. You coming?” He called. 

She groaned anxiously beneath her breath before responding, “yes, sir!” They raced up the stairs into the lobby which was left completely vacant. Gordon held up his gun and she followed suit, staying close behind him. She felt the urge to kill him now and find Crane but her gut warned her that someone else was in the room, watching. They walked slowly through the main corridor, past the abandoned security checkpoint, creeping closer to the wide atrium. When they stepped beneath the enormous domed ceiling a loud noise broke through the top of the building. She looked up and covered her face with her forearm to protect her eyes from large shards of falling glass. She saw a large dark blur surround Sgt. Gordon and pull him up to the roof. 

“Sgt. Gordon!” She yelled after him. She knew immediately that the blur was that bastard Batman. A small laugh escaped her mouth as she shook her head and lowered her gun. A group of SWAT ran in seconds later. She pointed at the ceiling with her gun and called them over. 

“He came down and took Sgt. Gordon!”

“Who?” Someone yelled at her and she shook her head, pretending to be unsure. 

“I don’t know! I think it was Batman.” She yelled, adding to their panic. 

“Batman!” Someone shouted and in the moment of distraction, she slipped away into a side corridor. She bolted towards a staircase and stopped at every floor, looking for signs of activity. Her body burned with soreness as she sprinted down each corridor. She wanted to scream his name but her lungs wouldn’t allow her the extra air to do so. She rounded a corner and ran into a group of police. They all started shouting at her until she showed them her badge. 

“I’m a detective- What the hell is going on here?” She yelled. 

“We’re looking for Dr. Crane!”

“Have you seen Sgt. Gordon?” She asked, panting and trying not to panic when they mentioned Crane’s name. “He disappeared and I've been looking for him.”

“No, we haven’t. We got a call that they found drugs in the building and then Batman showed up. Crane was running the operation.” One police officer responded and jerked their head to the side where they were going to run next. “It's down this corridor!”  

“I’ll come with you,” she shouted and led the unit, her gun pointed at the ground. Two large doors were falling off their hinges further down the hallway. The room itself was smokey and gaseous. She looked down from the doorway where there were stairs leading into a cement lined room like an empty indoor pool. Tables were littered with Crane’s fear serum and men that she assumed were dead. Huge vats of liquid marked with a toxic symbol sat on their sides by an open waterline. 

“This is it,” she said to the officer beside her and started to descend the staircase. The smoke made it hard to see so she moved slowly, looking around the floor for Crane’s familiar face. The men she saw were all part of Falcone’s posse who had been hired to help the drug operation run. Something snapped beneath her food and she looked down, seeing Crane’s scarecrow mask which she recognized from his drawing. She picked it up and looked around anxiously, her fingers around the gun shook. Then she saw him. Crane was propped up against a wall and bleeding slightly from the head, a thin trail of blood oozed on the wall behind his head. He was panting and flailing around, his pupils were mere penpoints. He’d been attacked with his own fear powder. She looked around before dropping into a crouch beside him. He recognized her but continued to shake, his eyes darting around her head. 

“Jonathan,” she whispered, “it's me.” 

“Did you find him?” Someone shouted and she yelled back that she had. He raised a judgemental eyebrow, his mouth forming a cuss word. His glasses were gone. 

“Trust me, Crane.” She whispered against his ear and held his wrists together. She took her handcuffs from her belt and handcuffed him. 

v 

She leaned against the wall and tapped her foot anxiously as they strapped him into a white straightjacket. She crossed the room and helped the officer secure the last belt, thankful for any excuse to touch him and remind him that she was still there. Looking up at her, he spat and she flinched slightly. His light eyes were ringed with red swollen skin and she wondered if he really felt betrayed by her. She wiped his spit from her cheek and returned to her place by the wall. 

“So this is the scarecrow,” Sgt. Gordon entered the room and let the door slam shut. Crane jumped from the noise and closed his eyes, taking a deep shaky breath. 

“Scarecrow… scarecrow.” Crane whispered with his eyes closed and shifted within the straightjacket. Sgt. Gordon pulled up a chair, the metal scraping against the floor, bristling Crane into opening his eyes. 

“What was the plan, Crane? How were you going to get the toxin into the air?” Gordon asked calmly and fingered the scarecrow mask. Her stomach turned watching Crane struggle to regain control over his mind. He shook and his eyes darted around the room, landing once or twice on her. She kept a straight face, giving no sign that she was terrified that something would happen to him or she would accidentally reveal something about him that they didn’t already know. When Crane didn’t respond, Gordon continued, his voice rising. 

“Who were you working for?” Gordon pressed and Crane’s eyes snapped to his, a crazy smile pulling at his lips. 

“Oh, it’s too late. You can’t stop it now.” He spoke through shivers, cutting up his words. He smiled at the end and Gordon shook his head. He stood and shoved the mask into her hands. 

“Here. Stay with Crane.” He growled and left the room, his footsteps echoing through the heavy steel door. She looked down at the mask in her hands and hid her smile. There was only one officer left in the room with them and she bit the inside of her cheek, trying to come up with a quick plan. 

“Are there any officers outside?” She asked the cop by the door who peeked his head outside the door. 

“No, ma’am.” 

“Good,” she smiled and raised her gun when the door snapped behind him. “Then this should be easy.” She cocked the gun and cornered the officer. “Face the wall,” she ordered and when he turned, she hit him over the head with the butt of her pistol, knocking him unconscious. She quickly handcuffed him and checked outside one last time before running over to Crane. He was still recovering from the toxin, his face set in a deep frown. She began to free him from his restraints, glancing at the door every few seconds. His eyes stayed on her face and he kept muttering things below his breath. When she undid the last restraint he jumped up and it fell from around his shoulders to the floor. She started to smile when he lunged at her and pushed her up against the tiled wall. Her hair clip cracked against the tile and clattered to the floor in pieces. She gasped beneath his hands, one holding her throat and the other grabbing the slack in her sweater, exposing her navel. 

“You betrayed me,” he growled, “you told Gordon... I saw you.” His eyes were wild and glazed, he looked right through her.

“What?” she gasped out though his hand was crushing her windpipe. 

“I saw you two! You fucked him. You fucked him!” He yelled, his body shook with anger like he was coming down from an adrenaline high. 

“No, I didn’t!” She struggled beneath his hands, “this is the toxin talking, Jonathan! I didn’t betray you-”

“But you fucked him,” his voice twisted into a heatbreaking whine, an image flicked before his eyes and he closed them quickly, shaking it from his head.

“No!” She coughed and she could feel herself getting light-headed. 

“You love him,” his voice was breaking beneath him and his eyes darted between hers as the toxin showed him more and more; everything of which included her.

“Jonathan!” she screamed and hit his chest hard with closed fists, “I can’t fucking breathe!” 

His eyes snapped open wider and he released his grip around her throat. Her feet landed on the ground and she coughed, sinking into a crouch against the wall. Crane stepped back and watched her silently. He was still shaking as he ran a hand anxiously through his hair. 

“Why would I save you if I loved him?” She cried in frustration, rubbing her bruised throat. “It’s the toxin, Jonathan… I didn’t do the things you think I did,” her voice softened. She looked up at him and stood slowly, grabbing onto the wall for support. Crane cradled his head in his hands and whimpered. 

“What do you see?” she asked quietly and stepped closer. He shook his head and created more distance between them. “Jonathan, tell me.” She pressed and he exhaled with a soft shutter.

“You… fuck,” he started through heavy breaths, working himself up again. “I see you and Gordon…” He rubbed his eyes and looked back up at her. “It’s been so long since…”

“Since what?” She furrowed her brow, questioning. His eyes darted away into the corner and he shook.

“Since my father last used it…” he took a deep breath and finished his sentence with a lengthy exhale, “on me.” 

“The fear toxin?” She whispered, slowly starting to understand what he was suggesting. He nodded and flinched as if something had attacked him. Was he saying that his father used a prototype of the fear toxin on him? She grabbed onto the sleeve of his suit jacket and tugged his attention away. 

“It’s just me. There’s no one else- nothing else in here except for me,” she gestured to the nearly empty room (the officer was still unconscious in the corner). “And I’m here for you,” she whispered and closed the distance between them, her hands slipped around his small waist beneath his suit jacket. She felt his body tense beneath her embrace before slowly (very slowly) releasing its tension. He didn’t hug her back but rested his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, and found the shallow wound on the back of his head. She ducked her head as she pulled away, finding his mouth and kissing him gently. The toxin was slowly wearing off and she could tell he was only beginning to return to his normal self. 

“We need to get up to my office,” he muttered and looked at the door. “They’re releasing the patients.”

“What?” She furrowed her brow. Crane sighed and shook his head. 

“Ra’s gave orders to open all of the cells. The patients will be let loose into the city.” He licked his lips and looked down at her. “We need to get upstairs.” His expression was tense as she could tell he was trying to fight the lingering effects of the toxin. She nodded. 

“Show me where to go.” 

He pulled her through the door and they ran down the corridor to an elevator. When the doors opened, Crane used his key to override the system, preventing anyone else from calling the elevator. He pressed the button for the floor with his office, not realizing that his other hand was squeezing tightly around hers. When the doors opened again, they rushed down the hallway and into Crane’s office. He sighed when the door was locked and the blinds closed. 

“What are we going to do?” She asked him quietly and he inhaled slowly. 

“I need to inject you with the antidote so the toxin doesn’t affect you when we leave the building.” He murmured, more to himself.

“We’re going out there?” She tried to keep the fear from her voice but he detected it instantly, raising an eyebrow. 

“Are you scared?” He asked automatically. 

“Of both of us dying out there at the hands of one of your old patients, yes, yes I am.” She nearly laughed. 

“Don’t you want to be part of the fun?” The Jonathan Crane she knew was definitely coming back. 

“I’d rather not become the ‘fun’,” she quipped and he smirked. 

“As you wish.” 

She followed him into his lab and he rummaged through a collection of vials arranged on one of the counters. Finding the right one, he slipped it inside a cartridge of what looked like an epipen. 

“Pull down your pants,” he ordered and then it was her turn to raise her eyebrow. “Don’t look at me like that and do what I tell you,” he said sternly and she did as he asked, pulling down her trousers where he had access to her thigh. “This will hurt,” he warned her before immediately plunging the needle into the fat around her thigh. She hissed in pain and heaved out a breath. 

“The good news is that you don’t have to ever do this again,” he patted her leg and buttoned her pants for her. “Now me,” he changed the vial and unbuckled his pants. He raised the hem of his boxers and punctured the needle into his upper thigh. He grunted in pain and closed his eyes for a moment and whistled out a tight breath. A large explosion shook the ground below their feet. She jumped and winced as she landed on her sore leg. Without opening his eyes, Crane nodded. 

“And that would be the patients leaving the building now.” He withdrew the needle and tossed it to the side, buckling his pants. 

“Let me see your head,” she touched his arm and he leaned forward slightly, turning his head where she could see it clearly. She carded her fingers through his dark hair and parted the dark roots away from the shallow wound. “It's a small cut, you’ll live.” 

“Thanks, doctor.” He smirked. Her fingers shifted through his hair as he straightened and she tried not to look disappointed when they were no longer twirled around his black locks. 

“Are you back now?” She looked up into his eyes, looking for trances of fear. 

“I think so,” he responded and traced his index finger around the collar of her sweater. There were small bruises where his fingers had been when he forced her against the wall in his state of panic. “Was I terrible?” He whispered. 

“Not more than usual,” she laughed lightly and covered his hand with hers. “I’m ok.” She insisted and he furrowed his eyebrows and licked his lips. 

He was going to apologize, he was going to tell her how much he loved her and that was why he had reacted so strongly to the toxin, but the words died on his lips so instead he said, “We should leave before the city goes all the way under.”

“They’ll raise the bridges so no one can leave, it’s too late.” 

Crane chuckled and leaned against the lab table behind him, his fingers grasping around the edge. “And once again, you severely underestimate me. Come on.” 

vi 

“Get on,” Crane held the bridle and gestured for her to mount the large black steed. 

“You’re kidding right?” She looked around at the burning city and then back to the police horse who’d lost its rider. 

“I wish I was,” he sighed and tugged her closer by her waistband, “now giddy-up, Miss —.” He joked flatley and pushed her up onto the saddle. He hoisted himself up after her and sat in front, taking the reins in his hands. She wrapped her arms around his waist and squeezed her thighs around the horse's stomach, holding on for dear life. 

“Where the hell did you learn to ride a horse?” She yelled over the panic and she felt him chuckle. 

“Oh, there are a lot of things that you don’t know about me, detective.” He smirked and kicked the horse into action. She gasped and held him tighter as they flew through the violence-strewn streets. She couldn’t imagine how ridiculous they looked to the people of Gotham but under the influence of the fear toxin, she hoped people were more afraid than amused seeing a man in a full suit riding a horse. Crane focused on the route ahead, navigating them through the broken city. 

“Where’s Ra’s?” She yelled into his ear. 

“Forget about him.” He growled and urged the horse faster. 

“Why? What happened?” 

“He tricked me. He didn't just want to impose an arguably better government, he wanted to kill everyone and to kill us too. He tipped off Batman and that’s how Batman found me. He didn't need me after the toxin had been released. He kept you away from me, didn’t he?” He called over his shoulder, leaping over a crashed car. 

“Yes, he told me to go to the precinct instead when I tried to warn you about the DA.” 

“He wanted Batman to find me and he assumed that you’d get stuck here after you followed Gordon. Two birds with one stone. I can’t believe I didn’t see it before.” He growled and turned the horse onto a side-street and into an alley. 

“Where are we going?” She asked, her grip tightening around Crane as she saw people screaming in the streets. 

“To my father’s house.” 

“How?” His father’s house? After his father had probably done something horrible to him?

“Just hold on,” he warned and flicked the reins again. She closed her eyes, wanting to block out the terror in the streets. While some of it gave her pleasure to see the raw side of humanity express itself, it reminded her of what she had seen as a child- the side of people that came out when they needed to survive. 

They rode to the edge of the city and Crane slowed the horse to a stop beside a tall building that looked abandoned. He hopped off of the horse and helped her down, catching her as she forced herself to slip over the saddle. The building was far enough away from the inner-city that it looked like it hadn’t been touched yet by the chaos, though the toxins had definitely reached it. 

“We need to get to the roof,” he informed her calmly and pointed her to the elevator. 

“Another elevator…” she whispered beneath her breath, knowing it wasn’t the right time to mention how much she hated the idea of going into one when the world around them was ending. Crane pressed the button labeled “20R,” and the elevator began to soar up. The elevator had windows that opened into the city. As the elevator climbed, they could see the destruction of Gotham and right across the bridge, normalcy.

“Ra’s is moving the micro-wave emitter by the high speed rail. If his plan goes accordingly, the emitter will poison the other side of the city beneath Wayne tower.” He pointed out the tall Wayne building from their vantage point. “I hate Gotham and I hate Batman, but I think I hate Ra’s Al Ghul more.” He sneered distastefully. “We could have run Gotham…” he sighed and shrugged, “maybe another day.” 

She couldn’t help herself but laugh. Being with Crane had opened her eyes to a new side of herself, one that was dark and masochistic. She liked this side better, way better. She liked thinking that one day she could be in charge, force out all of the government officials that were too dumb or sexist to listen to her. She could lead beside Crane… 

When the elevator doors opened a gust of wind met them. The doors opened onto the roof of the huge building. A helicopter stood in the center of a large bull’s eye, its blades running in circles above their heads. Crane’s hair ruffled in the wind and he squinted his eyes against it. Her mouth fell open in shock and Crane chuckled at her reaction. 

“That’s the funny thing about, trust, detective. I don’t believe in it,” he smirked and beckoned her to the helicopter’s doors. 

“You planned this?” She yelled as he gestured her to climb onto the landing gear. 

“Of course,” he smiled, "I always have a backup plan." Her mary janes slipped across the bars as she climbed and Crane supported her back, guiding her back into the body of the machine. He pulled himself inside after her and collapsed in one of the seats. She tried to orient herself, looking around the small helicopter, landing on the pilot. The pilot nodded at Crane, he was wearing a thick mask and goggles to keep the toxin away. 

“Ready doctor?” The pilot called from the front and Crane nodded breathlessly. He looked at her and clenched his jaw, returning to the version of Crane she knew so well. 

“Yes.”

[misshoneyimhome]

Yin & Yan I Seth Jarvis 🖋️🌺

Requested: yes/no

Summary; for jarvy : he’s always cracking jokes and very unserious. but he gives me golden retriever energy. so maybe something with black cat gf + golden retriever bf.

Other notes; Well hello again my sweet Canes fan 🤍 I am back with another Jarvy fic, and though I wasn't entirely sure how I wanted this to play out, I hope I managed to catch your vibe anyway 😅 I must admit, the more I look at and listen to this guy, I'm growing a soft spot for him and emotionally getting swept off my feet 🥰

Tropes & Warnings; Seth Jarvis x reader; strangers to lovers; no warnings (except I mention they sleep together, but that's not really a surprise, is it 😂)

Word count; 2.6K

Taglist; @couldawouldashoulda50, @findapenny, @justwanderingbutneverlost, @cixrosie

_

Seth Jarvis was always the life and soul of the party, sporting the brightest smile and the heartiest laugh.

His demeanour was infectious, capable of brightening even the dullest of rooms, and it came as no surprise that he was often likened to having "golden retriever energy." His enthusiasm was tangible, emitting a warmth and loyalty that drew people to him. Seth’s passion for life simply meant he was always eager for the next big adventure, as he had a remarkable talent for making everyone feel valued and acknowledged, his cheerful nature illuminating any space he entered.

In contrast, you were his complete opposite. Reserved, with a fondness for sarcasm and a preference for solitude, you were often dubbed the "black cat" of your social circle. While Seth thrived in social gatherings, you found solace in quiet moments—whether immersing yourself in the pages of a captivating novel or strolling through the city streets beneath the tranquil night sky. Your wit was sharp, your humour dry, and you proudly wore your introversion like a badge of honour.

Yet despite your differences, you and Seth had an undeniable chemistry. It seemed as if his brightness balanced out your darkness, creating a perfect harmony. And though no one would have guessed that you two were such a great match, it turned out that opposites do indeed attract. 

Meeting Seth had been as surprising for you as it was for him. And whenever people asked about how it all began, Seth could never contain his excitement when telling the story, his eyes lighting up as he relived that fateful moment.

---

"Oh, fuck me…" you muttered under your breath as you strolled along the pavement in the streets of Raleigh. Following a trip to the grocery store, the bottom of your paper bag had split, spilling your groceries – and naturally, the sight of broken eggs spreading across the pavement was the cherry on top of an already dismal day. “Just my luck…”

It had simply been one of those days. And weeks. Perhaps even the entire month.

Your flatmate had been an absolute nightmare lately, with her boyfriend practically living over almost every day. They stayed up all night, their noisy sex accompanied by the blare of the television, and on weekends, she'd invite more friends over, filling the flat with thumping music, dense smoke, and the chaos of impromptu parties. Sometimes, the parties didn’t even stop at weekends.

You were nearing your breaking point, but the issue was you had nowhere else to turn. Sure, you’d been on the hunt for another place to live, but nothing affordable had come up. There had been one or two options maybe, but living with a male flatmate who made it clear he'd only offer reasonable rent if you gave him "a little sugar" three times a week wasn’t exactly your idea of a good deal.

You tried to maintain a positive outlook, really, you did. Even though you knew optimism wasn’t exactly your default setting, it often felt like the universe was working against you. “It's all part of your journey for personal growth,” your mother always said. But honestly, you didn’t feel like you needed much more ‘growth’ at this point. You were pretty content with where you were in life. Almost, anyway.

All you wished for was a little positive energy from the universe. Just every now and then.

So, as you stooped to gather your belongings, reminding yourself to think more optimistically and hope for some good vibes, it inevitably began to rain heavily. Big, fat drops splashed all around you, drenching your clothes and turning the situation into a soggy mess. “Seriously? Well, fuck you too,” you muttered aloud, perhaps a bit louder than you intended, your frustration resonating in the now empty street.

“Whoa, easy there, I’m innocent, I swear,” a male voice suddenly came from behind you, chuckling as he approached.

“What?”

Turning your head slightly to see the approaching figure, you couldn’t help but roll your eyes. A cheeky remark from a stranger was the last thing you needed right now. However, as the person drew nearer, he then knelt down next to you and reached out for some of your groceries.

“Need a hand?” he simply asked in a much calmer tone, looking at you with warm honey-brown eyes and a wide smile that seemed to break through the gloom.

You found yourself rather bewildered, to say the least. Here you were, kneeling on the pavement in the pouring rain, and this stranger came along offering to help with your groceries scattered on the ground, including the broken eggs. And you had to admit, he seemed a bit charming and quite good-looking.

“Um,” you murmured softly, not quite sure what to say. “Um… I’m alright, but thanks.” You attempted to offer him a faint smile, though you felt it was futile.

And you were correct. The stranger simply stayed put, picking up the packets of Mentos and the lemons you had bought, as he once again flashed you a smile, seemingly unfazed by the rain. “Well, you do seem like someone who could use a hand,” he chuckled lightly. 

Damn, this guy was something else, you thought. Completely catching you off guard, he just started gathering your scattered items into his arms, still wearing that gentle grin.

You didn’t know what to say. On one hand, you wanted to be left alone, feeling embarrassed enough by the universe. On the other hand, it was rather nice to have someone lending you a hand. And you had just asked the universe for some positive energy, even a bit of luck to come your way, so maybe this was it. You might as well give it a try, you figured. It couldn’t get any worse. Right?

“Well, thank you,” you finally said, your voice barely above a whisper. “I appreciate it.”

“No problem at all,” he merely replied, his tone genuine. “I’m Seth, by the way. But most folks just call me Jarvy.”

There was a brief moment where you and Seth remained crouched, exchanging looks. You truly felt thankful for his assistance, and as you retrieved the items from your shopping bag, Seth reached into his pocket and pulled out a fabric tote for you to use.

It felt almost like a scene from a romantic comedy. Two strangers meeting when one of the main characters is in a shitty situation and the other comes to their rescue. And just when you thought it couldn’t get any more cinematic, the rain stopped.

“I’m Y/n.”

“Well, it’s nice to meet you, Y/n,” Seth chuckled, holding your groceries close.

You couldn’t help but smile, thanking him once more for his help. There was something about his charming grin, the way his eyes sparkled despite the dark, grey clouds, and how happiness seemed to emanate from him like a shining aura. Seth was truly special, and perhaps he was the stroke of luck the universe had sent your way.

Well, at least until you both stood up and your jeans tore at the inner seam.

“Fucking hell!” you exclaimed, letting out a deep sigh.

Once again, Seth couldn’t help but chuckle. “Looks like you’re really having a day, huh?” He gazed at you with his warm brown eyes. “How about I buy you to a cup of coffee?”

Once more, you were taken aback. This guy didn’t even know you, yet here you were, still drenched, now with torn jeans, and he was just smiling and offering to buy you coffee? Who was this guy? Was it some sort of prank?

But no, it wasn’t. Despite your initial suspicions, Seth turned out to be nothing but a friendly guy who simply wanted to help out someone in need. He also happened to be a professional ice hockey player, playing for the Carolina Hurricanes, although he hailed from Winnipeg. All this you learned over your cups of coffee and even more so when he offered you a lift home.

Naturally, you had hesitated, unsure whether to trust a stranger on the street. However, for once in your life, you decided to push aside the anxious thoughts in the back of your mind and listen to your intuition, which urged you to trust the universe. And as you strolled with him to the nearest coffee spot, discreetly concealing your torn jeans, you felt nothing but grateful that you had done so.

_

Seth Jarvis simply turned out to be the best relationship you'd ever had. Even your mother took a liking to him – and if there was anyone more of a pessimist than you, it was her. And of course, Seth simply chuckled when he’d first met her, joking that now he knew where you inherited your lack of cheerful spirit from. Yet, he never made any negative remarks about it or you.

In fact, he found it intriguing and just smiled at the fact that you were more cautious and concerned about life than he was. You were a planner, always wanting to anticipate the unexpected and be prepared, whereas he was more spontaneous, going with the flow and keeping a cheerful outlook. And as it turned out, you complemented each other perfectly.

Whenever his energy soared a bit too high and led him off track, you were there to keep him grounded and calm. And when your negative thoughts and energy veered into a darker mood, dragging you into an emotional spiral, his positivity and optimistic mindset lifted you right back up.

But of course, no relationship was ever perfect. This truth became especially evident during your first hockey season with Seth while you were dating, spending most nights either at the PNC Arena or in front of the telly cheering him on. While you loved Seth and cherished your time together, the emotional rollercoaster of wins and losses took its toll on your budding relationship.

However, it was also during those low moments for Seth that you found yourself stepping up as the steady rock he needed, cheering him on and reassuring him that things would improve next time. To your own great surprise, you often found yourself embodying the positive spirit, a role you hadn't expected to play. And you couldn’t help but appreciate the positive energy Seth brought out in you, realising how much you were growing together.

Moreover, being with Seth provided a much-needed escape from your dreadful roommate. Though moving in with Seth may have seemed a bit spontaneous to some – classic Seth style – it certainly made your life a lot easier not having to deal with her. Finally, you could just focus on yourself, your work, and now your boyfriend, Seth Jarvis.

And having you around also had a positive impact on Seth. It grounded him and perhaps even added a touch of maturity, naturally noticed by his teammates. Though Seth never lost his playful demeanour, his teammates definitely observed how he became more composed and grounded in your presence. And they never missed the chance to tease him about it.

“Off home to the little missus, are we?” Jesperi would playfully tease.

“Yeah, making sure wifey’s got dinner on the table!” Necas would chime in.

Seth would just laugh it off, but there was a noticeable warmth in his eyes whenever they mentioned you, and he would often reply with a cheeky grin, “You’re just jealous you don’t have someone waiting for you at home with a warm dinner and a smile.”

Living together also brought moments of growth and adjustment. You learned to embrace Seth’s spontaneous nature, finding joy in unexpected adventures and impromptu plans. Meanwhile, Seth grew to appreciate the stability you brought into his life, enjoying the calm and predictability of the routines you established together.

“Ah, I’m sure Seth’s the one making dinner to spoil his favourite girl,” Teuvo teased, winking at you as you then entered the locker room after the game to greet your boyfriend.

“Sure, as if Seth could even locate the kitchen,” you fired back, walking over to him and planting a kiss on his cheek, eliciting laughter from the lads.

“Hey, I can cook!” Seth protested, wrapping an arm around your shoulders. “Just because I burn toast doesn’t mean I’m hopeless.”

“Oh of course, dear,” you teased back, patting his chest. “Let’s just stick to ordering takeout.”

Despite the playful banter, it was evident to everyone that you and Seth shared something special. His teammates admired the balance you brought to his life, even if they wouldn't admit it outright. And for you, seeing Seth’s bright smile after a long day, hearing his infectious laughter, and feeling his arms around you made every tough moment worth it.

You simply got each other. You never worried that your sharp energy might drive him away. And every day, he reminded you, in his own way, that no matter what, you were keeping him steady.

One night, after a particularly tough game, when Seth came home, flopped down on the sofa, and let out a dramatic sigh. “I need a pick-me-up,” he said, giving you those pleading puppy-dog eyes.

“Want me to sing you a lullaby?” you teased, taking a seat beside him.

“How about a massage?” he suggested, wiggling his eyebrows.

“How about you help me with the dishes first?” you countered, nudging him playfully.

“Alright, alright. Slave driver,” he groaned, but he got up and followed you to the kitchen, a smile playing at his lips.

It was one of those nights when his career weighed heavily on him, which also meant it weighed heavily on you. Each time you felt his cheerfulness slowly wane, overshadowed by the darkness of a loss. And it would have been easy to let your own emotions sink with his, to let it all spiral down. But you didn’t; you couldn’t allow yourself to do that. All you wanted was for Seth to be happy, to be his cheerful self.

So, as the two of you shared giggles and inside jokes, moving around the kitchen as you finished up, Seth’s mood quickly returned to its usual buoyant self. His smile widened and his chuckles deepened as always.

“You know I love you, right?” he grinned as he held you close, leaning against the kitchen counter with you in his arms, your hands finding their way to his neck.

“I know – just as you know I love you,” you smiled back at him.

“And if I ever turn into a whiny little puppy again…”

“…I know you’re back to your usual self,” you flashed him a wink before pressing your lips against his.

It was a tender moment yet filled with chuckles and laughter, as always. Something only Seth could bring into your life. And as his hands then found their way to your buttocks, giving them a playful squeeze before lifting you up in his arms, you knew everything was going to be okay.

The love you made that night was smooth and intimate. The sensation of Seth’s body against yours, your skin tingling with heat, covered in sweat as he moved inside you, sent your mind spinning, endorphins flooding your system with a high only he could induce.

Your lives were entwined in a way that felt natural and right, as if you were always meant to find each other. The challenges you faced only strengthened your bond, proving that sometimes, the universe really does know what it’s doing. With Seth by your side, the ups and downs of life felt a little more manageable and a lot more joyful.

[mustainegf]

heyy I just found your page and you're talented as hell! I wanted to send in a little request.

ok so, 80s or RTL era James and reader are best friends, they are having a sleepover,then she wakes sweating profusely because of a nightmare. she tries to sleep again, she tosses and turns on the bed bit thats doesn't work,and finally wakes James. when he notices how afraid she is, he tries comforting her.

This is fucking adorable, lets be honest we all know they have crushes on each other

𝐒𝐋𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐎𝐕𝐄𝐑 ¹⁹⁸⁴

I threw the frayed, flimsy sleeping bag on the floor of James's bedroom, directly next to his bed. I didn't mind that the fabric was nearly threadbare and provided little comfort. All that mattered was that I was at James's house.

Though it was equally ancient and lumpy as the sleeping bag, I gratefully accepted James's insistence on lending me an extra pillow. I gave it a tight grip and stared up at him, enjoying the feel of the velvety material on my cheek.

With a cheeky smile on his face, James was lying flat on his bed and staring at me. The little lamp on his bedside table created a soft, yellow glow that warmed the space and gave it a cozy, personal feel.

His guitar rested against the far corner, and his hanging posters of metal bands lined the walls. I could let my guard down and be who I am here and it felt like a second home.

"Do you remember that time Lars tried to balance on one leg and play drums?" James commented, amusement alive in his eyes.

I burst into giggles, burying my face in the pillow. “Oh God, yes... He almost took out the entire drum set.”

James laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that made my heart swell. “He’s such a dumbass. I don’t know how he stays upright most of the time, let alone play drums.”

Each story was funnier than the last, and before long, we were both crying with laughter. That kind of chuckle that just makes everything a bit better.

“Hey, you know what’s weird?” James spoke abruptly, his tone now gentler. “I can’t remember the last time I laughed this hard.”

I noticed the vulnerable expression on his face as I glanced up at him. "Neither can I," I said. "Recently, life has been so busy. It's I've missed hanging out.

James gave a nod, fixing his gaze on mine. There was a brief but comfortable silence during which we simply exchanged glances and knew everything about the other without any words being spoken.

"I love you being here," he muttered.

I answered, "Always," reaching up to give him a firm squeeze. "I wouldn't be anywhere else, you know that."

He smiled, that lopsided grin that always made my heart miss a beat. As the hours passed, our voices became softer and our words became shorter.

I was really happy as I snuggled onto the extra pillow he'd given me. The fact that I was lying on the floor in a tacky sleeping bag didn't matter. It mattered that James and I were together in this utterly perfect moment. The things that brought beauty to life , was this, James.

With drooping eyelids, I whispered a, "Goodnight, James."

He breathed back, "Goodnight," his voice low with drowsiness.

And then, with the comfort of the man beside me, I allowed myself drift off.

I startled awake, breathing urgently and shallowly as my heart hammered in my chest. Sweat was pouring down my face and the flimsy sleeping bag was sticking to my skin.

The nightmare that had pulled me from sleep had left my mind a disorganized mix of visuals, but they were beginning to fade into the shadows, leaving me with nothing but an uneasy sense of dread.

I sat up and attempted to calm my breathing while sliding a shaking hand through my hair. The only sound in the pitch black, silent room was James's even, gentle breathing from his bed.

I looked across at him and felt an ocean of relief when I noticed how unbothered he was. The last thing I wanted was to wake him up, especially being the one crashing at his place.

I took a deep breath, pulled my knees up to my chest, and tried to push the nightmare's last fragments away. The hard, cold floor felt even more unforgiving at this point. I lay back down, clutching James' lumpy pillow to my chest, inhaling his scent.

I forced myself to go back to sleep and closed my eyes. I rolled around on the hard floor, attempting to find any spot that was comfortable. I felt as though the cold seeped through the sleeping bag, causing me to be cooled to the bone. The bag provided very little to cushion me.

I let the pattern of James's steady breathing relax me as I concentrated on it. Slow and steady, in and out. My breath matched his. But sleep eluded me no matter how hard I tried.

All I want in this moment is James. My James.

After a while I quit  trying to make it work and just laid there, gazing upwards.

I finally reached my breaking point. I needed to feel safe, to feel warmth, to feel… James. I staggered upright, making the room to spin a little as I moved. I trembled as I knelt over his bed and gave him a little shoulder shake without thinking twice.

Whispering, "James," my voice wavered. "James, wake up."

He slolwly stirred awake, peering at me in the half light as he opened his eyes. "What's wrong?" he asked his voice sluggish from sleep but immediately worried. "Are you okay?"

My eyes filled with tears, and I shook my head, incapable to think of anything to say. Rather, I naturally moved my body to rest next to him. I needed his warmth and comfort, I needed to be near him. I tugged him closer, pressing my face against his chest and gripping his shirt tightly.

James didn't hesitate for a second. He wrapped me with his arms, pressing me close to his body. "Hey, hey, it's okay," he said in a comforting whisper. "I'm here. You're safe."

I felt his hand gently stroking my back, his touch sending a wave of calm through me. I pressed my face into his chest, breathing in his familiar scent, and felt the tension begin to drain from my body. His heart beat steadily beneath my ear, a comforting rhythm that grounded me.

We had never had such an intimacy or closeness before. However, it felt perfect, like something we've both always needed. It seemed like exactly what We needed.

I felt him shift a little, repositioning himself to comfortably grasp me. He reached for my hair with his other hand and used his fingers to gently untangle knots that werent there.

I expected cuddling with James to be awkward, wrong, weird. But now that I was in his arms, his heartbeat in my ear, there was no place I'd rather be.

With his breath warm against my forehead, he whispered softly, "Do you want to talk about it?"

Still unable to find my voice, I shook my head once again. I was stuck thinking, maybe I loved James a little more than just a friend.

He answered softly, "Okay," without pressuring me further. "Just know I'm here, alright? I'm not going anywhere."

I nodded, feeling the last traces of fear finally disappear. His body, his touch, and his words were all I needed to feel okay again.

James placed a delicate kiss on the top of my head. "Sleep, you need it," he said softly, making my heart ache.

And as I nodded off in his arms, I realized that I would always have this James to come back to, nightmares or not.

[ragingbookdragon]

The sight is typically considered a blessing. To see what the one your soul is tied to sees? There were some amazing stories in the history books. Yet, they rarely covered the ones where your sight was met with pain, grief, and sorrow. Yours was. Colored red like your soulmate’s father’s hands, pulling away from the face of an obvious child who long ago learned how not to cry in front of the man. The sight began to give you nightmares. Whatever your soulmate did for a living, he was met with the hands of evil. Not once in his life did he ever seemingly know peace.

You wondered if you would ever see a moment of happiness. Sometimes, there was a semblance of calm. Usually, it was moments before whatever storm he dove headfirst into, but your hearts aligned, beating in one, and you knew he felt a solace in violence.

As the years grew, so did the violence, however, you saw fewer moments of hell through his eyes. It gave you some moment of relief to know he wasn’t in the hands of some evil anymore. He spent a lot of time looking up at the stars though. And in the dark. Alone. Quiet. He didn’t speak much. You learned he was a man who had little to say and much more to do. He stopped showing gruesomeness. His sight became so much softer for you. Laughter peeling from his friends, words on pages, every day, mundane life. You knew he was a man who underneath all his obvious solemnity, was simply a man who longed for a normal life. You wondered if things would’ve been different had you met as children.

Some never met their soulmates. Some spent a lifetime searching for a love that never found them. Yours seemed to be blessed. Somehow the same city had come into view. The same landmarks. The same sky. You knew where he was. You wondered if he knew where you were.

***

It happened in the hall on base. Sleep hadn’t come to you the night before and you were dragging yourself back to your quarters after training. The new squad you were being conditioned for was ruthless. Survival of the fittest, the strongest, the mentally tough. Somehow, you’d managed to last longer than most did in the first five weeks. Twelve more to go, and your battalion had dropped from fifty recruits to twenty-three; you wondered who was going to stand in the end and be the newest members of the one-four-one.

It's when you blinked, overcome by the familiar fuzzy sensation in your vision, and saw your own head tipped down, walking towards yourself. Your head snapped up, eyes wide as you met the steely gaze of your Lieutenant; “Ghost,” they called him, and you had seen firsthand why. No words left your flapping mouth, all traces of weariness gone as you two stared at each other, one in shock, the other calm.

“It’s…it’s you.” It sounded so fucking cliché to say it, but what else could you say?

All the sudden you remembered how cold and distant this man acted to almost everyone, and you readied yourself for some type of negative words, damning you and your bond with him, anything, and yet, he simply guided you into an empty conference room and laid a warm hand against your cheek; you never knew such hands could be so gentle.

“I’m sorry,” was all he said. You knew what it meant; he was sorry for all the things you had to see for the last thirty years. The pain, the torture, the grief, the brokenness.

Soldiers weren’t supposed to cry, but you couldn’t help the tears welling in your eyes as you shut yours and leaned into his hand; his thumb brushed the tears dripping down from your eye.

“I never would’ve wished my sight on you. On anyone.” He sounded so defeated, not elated like most were when they met their other half. “I’m sorry you’ve only ever seen fighting in my eyes.”

You shook your head and opened your eyes, taking in the masked man before you. “I tried to show you love through mine all these years so we would both be loved enough. I’m sorry I didn’t do more to save you from your fights.”

His eyes showed a softness, maybe he was smiling underneath his mask; his hand left your cheek, arm wrapping around your neck as he gently pulled you into him. “S’alright love,” he murmured. “I’m glad you never had to see my fights in person. Through my eyes was more than damaging.”

You pull back enough to look up at him. “Was the sight in mine…?”

“It was enough,” he said, and met your gaze. “It’s…always, been enough for me.” He sighed. “I don’t know if I’m good enough for you though. You’ve seen my life. You know it all.”

“I do.”

“I don’t know if you’ll be happy. With…with me.”

You feel a sense of longing in his voice, but at the same time, you know he’s offering you an out. Giving you the chance to walk away. You don’t take it.

“I’ve spent my entire life seeing yours, Lieutenant. I want to see it together now.” You cut him off before he can even say it. “I’m prepared for wherever this life takes us. I’ve always been there for you, and you for me. I won’t change it now. I’ll see it until the end of our days.”

You see yourself now, there’s a relief flooding your veins from his sight. For once in his life, you now know, that this broken man, has met a moment of peace.

[steve-faglan]

Breaking and Entering pt. 2

Reader x William Afton/ Steve Raglan

TW: NON CON!! DUB CON!! NON CON!! NON CON!!

Summary: You can't stop thinking about that place. About him. You make one more foolish visit and end up in a new predicament.

PART ONE: HERE❤️

It's been weeks since you and Mike narrowly escaped the infamous William Afton. Mike doesn't talk about it, though he does find himself masturbating to the feeling of your mouth around his cock. The two of you hang out pretty regularly still, despite the horrors inflicted upon you.

You and Mike get together at a local park. It's usually empty, and today is no different. There's a small nook behind the trees on the far side of the park and that's where the two of you go to smoke. As the weather gets colder, the foliage around the woods dies down, revealing a perfect view of Freddy's. You swallow the lump in your throat when you see it and Mike quickly catches on.

"Hey, don't look at it. Let's just go back to my house." Mike tried to redirect your attention, but you continued to stare. A strange yearning builds in you that you're certain can't be what you truly want. Why would you want to go back there? You don't know, but the longing remains. You attempt to fill that craving in other ways.

"Let's go to your place." The two of you head to Mike's and he tries to softly reassure you that you're safe. Something he's had to do for you these past few weeks after the attack. He doesn't know that something in you has changed.

When you get inside, the second the door closes, you press your lips to Mike's, both hands gently holding his face.

"Is this okay?" You ask, breathlessly breaking the kiss.

"Y/N, are you sure you want this?" Mike looks shocked and concerned.

"Is this okay?" You ask again, more sternly. Mike looks into both of your eyes and finally nods before desperately reconnecting his lips to yours. In minutes the two of you are naked and fucking all over the living room. Mike is rough and desperate like he's only ever dreamt of this moment and won't let it go to waste. But it's not enough.

Mike pulls out and finishes on your ass and the two of you collapse next to each other on his couch. The room is silent aside from the unsteady, deep breaths.

"Holy shit..." Mike sighs in disbelief. You nearly fall asleep next to each other. You're not sure how to ask this, but you need to know if it's just you who can't stop thinking about that night.

"Mike."

"What?"

"Do you ever... Think about going back?" Your question confuses him so much, he doesn't even realize what you're talking about.

"Back there? No, I don't. I-I'm sorry I didn't say anything. I don't- I never think about that day. I try not to, for you." He rambles on, but you tune it out, disappointed in his answer. "Why?"

"No reason. I've just been having a lot of dreams."

"Nightmares?" Mike attempts to clarify.

"Huh? Oh, yeah. Nightmares." You shrug it off. Hoping the subject gets dropped seeing as you aren't on the same page.

"Oh shit, Abby will be home soon." That's your cue to leave. Mike drives you home and it's clear he's developing feelings at a rapid rate. He bids you goodbye with a beaming smile and you do the same. Once he's gone, you go inside your house and beeline right for your bedroom.

No amount of fucking Mike or touching yourself to the memory would satiate the urge you have to let Afton has his way with you again. Your only drawback is... Would you get to live a second time? The nighttime air is crisp and chilly as winter rolls in. You stand on your porch for an entire hour before you finally get in your car and make the drive.

At first, you just sit in the parking lot. You look for another car, maybe you missed it last time. You don't see one. You begin to wonder if he's even here tonight. What a waste of this manic, dangerous behavior that would be. You eventually step out of your car and shakily approach the doors you snuck through last time.

"What the fuck am I doing?" You whisper to yourself. Something like a wave of common sense washes over you and you take a few steps away from the building. You're torn between using logic and getting the fuck out of there and the curiosity of him even still being inside. You didn't see a car, after all. You hold your breath and carefully enter the building.

Last time you were here you were careless and loud, this time your steps are as delicate as falling leaves. You hold your breath at every turn. The place is entirely silent and you don't disrupt it any further. You're carefully treading across the main area when you come across the table. You become tense as warmth pools between your legs.

You swallow the lump in your throat and quickly realize you don't want to be here. This was a mistake. You keep your eyes on the crime scene as you run away, not looking where you're going. You run into a tall, broad frame and it leaves you flat on your ass, looking up at him. William Afton. The man you came looking for and hoped you wouldn't find.

"Back already? You're filthy." He chuckles as he stands over you, basking in his power over you.

"N-No! Please I'm sorry. I- I was confused. I don't know- I don't-" You struggle endlessly with your words, raising a hand to shield yourself as you remain on the ground.

"Stand up." His demand confuses you. He's calm and quiet, it's unsettling.

"W-What?"

"Stand. Up." He speaks sternly. Impatient. You do as you're told and scramble to your feet. William places a controlling hand at the nape of your neck, guiding you like a dog on a leash. You're too scared to speak, protest, or even cry. This is it, you think.

"I- I'm sorry," you sob, but he only rolls his eyes.

"Why'd you come here?" He asks, coldly.

"I don't know! I couldn't-" he cuts you off.

"I meant the first time. Why'd you come here?" William seems to lean into your ear when he speaks, sending chills down your spine.

"I- we came here as kids," you say, hoping your nostalgic ties could earn you mercy.

"You and Micheal?"

"Yes. I just wanted to relive it for a while. I'm sorry," your story dissolves to pleas.

"That's adorable." His voice is cold and evil and the two of you disappear into a dark corridor.

Back at his house, Mike calls your landline several times. A little tied up at the moment, you're unable to answer. He recalls your troublesome questioning earlier and decides you need to be checked on. After all, in his mind, you're already his now. Mike pokes his head into Abby's room and sees she's sound asleep so he makes the drive to your house.

"Y/N?" He calls, careful not to be too loud outside your home at night. He knocks for a little while longer and even looks through your bedroom window. Nothing. He climbs back into his car to return home, not wanting to leave Abby alone for too long.

On the way he passed that damned restaurant and at the last second spots your car in the furthest corner of the lot. His stomach drops. He doesn't know how, but he's certain William lured you back there to finish the job. He squeals the tires as he whips the car into the lot and haphazardly parks before clamoring inside through the shifty entrance.

"Have a seat." William gestures to a chair similar to a dentist's chair. It has restraints and looks like it's meant to take different positions. You swallow the lump in your throat.

"P-Please. I know coming back was stupid." You shake your head and try to back away from the threatening furniture, but his hand holds you in place. His grip grows tighter and he pushes you toward the chair. Fight-or-flight takes over and you begin to fight back. You swing at him and scream for help as loud as your lungs will let you. The sound rips through your throat and burns as you pray someone hears you.

"Y/N?!" Mike calls out, having heard your screams echo through the building. "Where are you?! I'm here!" He runs up and down the many passages and doorways of Freddy's, feeling more hopeless by the second.

William successfully fastens you into the chair and steps back to admire your helpless form. He's breathless from the struggle. Pushing his hair back into its coiffed position, he licks the blood off his lip from your resistance.

"You're unbelievable. Coming back for more and acting so ungrateful. Don't think it's not perfectly obvious why you've come back," William taunts. He circles you like a shark in dark waters. He reclines the mechanism and begins to carefully remove your clothes. He's oddly gentle compared to the way he cut your clothes off last time. He unfastens each restraint one at a time until you're exposed before him in nothing but your panties.

William starts to gingerly massage your breasts, his mouth hangs slightly open in an expression that asks "What's next?" Your face becomes red and you can't help but look away from him, squeezing your eyes shut and begging your body to stop rewarding him. Your nipples harden for him and your lace panties become soaked with your arousal.

"You must've worn there for me," William gushes as his hand finally travels down to your waist. Goosebumps ignite on your skin and it's everything you can do to stop yourself from moaning. He's teasing you. He slips his fingers inside you and you lose the battle, releasing a loud, desperate moan as he curls his knuckles inside you. He's older, and more experienced. It's as if he knows your body better than you do.

He fingers you until you've given up on holding back and you're just a writhing, moaning mess in front of him.

"Shh, shh..." He whispers as he knowingly guides you to your climax.

"William-" you start to protest, but it just comes out as you moaning his name. Just as he brings you to your limit, he removes his hand entirely. Something he seems to love to do. "No!"

"Filthy little thing. Look at you," he ridicules you as he licks your arousal off his fingers. He adjusts the chair again and you're left with your legs spread for him. He takes his position, waist high to your aching entrance. "You knew what you wanted when you came back. I'm going to give it to you." William unfastens his belt and releases his throbbing cock. It seems even bigger this time. Likes he's been teasing himself this whole time. His breath shudders as he slips the tip up and down in the wetness of your clit.

"I-" you stutter.

"What is it, puppet?" He roughly runs his hands up and down your thighs, awaiting your next line of resistance. The pet name makes you feel disgusting and your face reddens.

"I don't know if-"

"You don't know if you can take it?" He asks but gives you no time to respond before he's slammed completely inside of you. He releases a loud guttural moan as your cries cause you to flex around his erection. "You're gonna fucking take it."

He thrusts into you repeatedly, stretching you out and stimulating you beyond pleasure. Your screams and moans carry throughout the hallways and Mike follows the sound.

"Looks like we have a visitor," William laughs, continuing to fuck you as he watches Mike scramble around through the security monitors. "He's getting warmer."

"Let her go!" Mike finally reaches the security office door and watches in horror as he bangs on the window. His screams are muffled, but William can still hear enough to laugh at him.

"Come take a turn, Micheal. Listen to her," he begins to toy with your clit while he's thrusting in and out of you. You want to hold back so badly, but it's not an option. You release screams of pleasure. Mike didn't even know you could make sounds like that. So degenerate and needy. It's almost distracting. Finally, he busts through the door, sustaining some damage from using his body as a battering ram.

"Let her go. Now." Mike is a new kind of angry. Protective. William tilts his head as he slowly slips out of you and fastens his slacks. You're left whimpering and exhausted.

"Here, Micheal. Have a go. Tell me how tight she is." He holds out a hand to you like he's offering a friend a tray of cigars. "Don't tell me, you two already fucked, right?" William laughs. "Was it anything like what she needed from me? Are you capable of that?" William's words set off a rage inside of Mike. He charges at the tall, broad, older man, but he's quickly and easily tossed aside. William grabs Mike by the shirt and pins him against the wall.

"Don't be stupid. She's alive because I'm using her. I don't have that much reason to keep you around." He drops the short, protective man and turns to face you where you lie half-conscious on the table.

"Just leave us alone. What more could you want?" Mike sighs, defeated.

"Oh, plenty. Unfortunately for you, it's not enough just to fuck your friend. I want the suffering." He unfastens your restraints. "I want the shame." William wraps a hand in your hair and all but throws you onto the floor. You collapse on the floor with a cry of pain and Mike runs to your aid.

"Hey, hey. I'm here, okay? I'm here," Mike frantically tries to comfort you.

"Micheal, you're really disappointing. You have to know the only reason she gave it up was to relive what I did to her," William laughs. Truly amused to be so powerful over the two of you.

"Shut your fucking mouth. Don't talk about what you did to her!" Mike holds you to him protectively, but he seems to freeze up when William comes to collect you. He stands you up on all fours, holding your head by your hair, forcing his length down your sore throat right in front of where Mike remains on the ground behind you. He's frozen as he watches you put up no fight. Your swollen hole is perfectly presented to him and he can see it becoming wetter by the second.

"Y/N..." Mike mumbles your name as he watches. He's unsure if he's heartbroken, scared, or aroused.

"I'm not always going to share her, Micheal." William's manipulative words wrap around Mike like strings on a puppet. Like it's the last time he'll ever feel your skin again, he digs his fingers into your hips and pulls you against him, grinding against your throbbing cunt. Finally, no holds barred, he shuffles his pants down and roughly slams into you. It's as if William's influence was inescapable inside the walls of the restaurant, and Mike couldn't stop his darkest urges.

You moan against William's dick as he manually bobs your head with his fist full of your hair.

"All you're good for is getting fucked. Even your 'best friend' thinks so." William laughs as tears streak down your face. You're jostled back and forth as each man shoves themselves deeper and deeper inside of you. Afton finishes first, filling your mouth and throat with warmth as Mike takes over. He plows into you, quickening his off-beat thrusts as he reaches his peak.

"M-M-" Mike assumes you're trying to say his name. Ask him to stop. Lust has completely taken him over and he gently shushes you between hard thrusts. To his, and William's surprise, you finish your sentence. "More."

With a devilish smirk, William shoves Mike out of the way. He pulls out just as he finishes, covering you in his cum as he sits back, reeling from the orgasm. William takes over, effortlessly spinning you around to take advantage of your battered pussy. He lies you on your back and lifts your pelvis to meet his. He hesitates for a moment to look at you. Your demeanor has been completely shifted. The fear and struggle were replaced with an out-of-character neediness.

"Please!" You wail, arching your back and begging to be fucked. He chuckles as he uses one hand to guide himself inside you. You gasp as he slips past your lips. He has more girth than Mike, and seems to hit something inside you Mike just can't. You release a continuous stream of degenerate moans as he drills you. He laughs over your wails as he picks up his pace, chasing his second climax. Mike can only stare at the two of you. The way you unfold for him and how rough he is with you. He's jealous but frozen watching you cum harder than he thought possible.

William finishes inside you just as he did last time, claiming you. Mike doesn't get that power. You scream as you flood William and his well-pressed slacks and he fucks you through your high. Once he's finally done, he leaves you on the floor, too weak to move. He's so swift with fastening his pants and belt, that Mike barely realizes what's happening until Afton lands a devastating blow to his temple, knocking him unconscious.

You weakly lift your head, slowly coming to and the orgasm and lust clear from your mind.

"Mike!" You exclaim, but it's nearly silent as your throat has been used so roughly.

"Shh..." He whispers and he kneels over you next. His two strong, calculated hands reach your neck and begin to squeeze. Your eyes widen. This is it, you're certain. Tears stream down your cheeks as you look into his eyes, watching as he turns blurry and eventually fades to black.

Hours pass, days, who knows how long? Mike wakes up in the same dark alley as before. He searches for you frantically, but you're nowhere to be found.

"No, no, no, no..." Mike bangs on the doors, screaming your name to no reply. He quickly notices your car is missing and he hopes that you just left him there and went home. He deserves it and worse, after all. He stumbles to his car and drives to your place.

"Y/N," William tauntingly calls your name as he watches you come to. You realize it's the first time you've heard him say your name and you hate the way it makes your clit throb. You squeeze your eyes shut and open them again to see him standing in front of you. "I think I like you. You may feel like a prisoner for a while. But let's see what freedoms you can earn, okay?" You rise from your spot and notice you're in a room that looks almost like an incredibly tiny apartment. Like a pet cage for a human.

"Wait, what? What are-" he cuts you off as he steps out the door.

"You'll be here for a while." The door closes and you're left alone in the plain, beige room. To be used, whenever.

[moonshynecybin]

short fic (~1000 words ish) i wrote inspired by @kingofthering's wonderful fake dating au which you can find here ! go read it... anyways thinking about valentino and anger and his love languages and his insane little brain and PERFORMANCEEE and fame being a nightmare. anyways:

“And so my question, I suppose, is about your previous comments about Marc— would you say that you’ve put your feud behind you?”

Vale feels Marc shift from one foot to the other, his shoulders tensing under the lazy stretch of Vale’s arm. He’d tucked him there as soon as they’d entered the room, hoping the physical contact would sell it a bit more— give the two of them something to fall back on in front of the press— make their answers more convincing. Pictures sell faster than words, in his experience. But he shouldn’t have worried, Marc’s media training is a well exercised muscle, and his usual wide smile is pasted across his face. He’s good at this, but Vale may be the only person in the room who can tell how nervous he actually is, his slight change in posture and the rigid line of his jaw giving him away. Valentino is not exactly at ease, himself. It's the first time in quite a while that a press conference has made him feel like he was about to vomit.

Camera flashes light up in a dazzling flurry, pulling Vale back into the present. The entire room is holding its breath, paying careful attention to their answer, dying to know how two of the biggest stars in motorsport went from hating each other to being photographed together with one of them on their knees in the span of a calendar year. Sharks smelling chum in the water.

So Vale makes himself laugh, open and gregarious. Does what he does best— make it into something funny. Something that can’t touch him. Bring everyone else in on how hilarious it is, how absurd. Because if he thinks about it too long he feels like smashing things. He cannot fucking believe the nerve of this reporter. Cannot believe he has to do this. Cannot believe that Yamaha had asked him to let Marc do this alone. Cannot believe he thought about letting him. Cannot believe they’re pretending that they’re— that they—

“I would hope so! It would make being together very difficult otherwise.” He says, light enough to be a joke, gesturing between Marc and him. Marc’s hand tightens on his waist, catching against the smooth fabric of his Yamaha shirt. It’s the first verbal confirmation of what they said in their joint press release— that they’ve been dating. That they are together. That sometime in the off-season they’d reconciled and fell in love.

Of course, that’s not exactly what happened. It’s just harder to explain to the world that the sex you’ve been having with your rival 14 years your junior has been— well. Decidedly closer to something like hate sex than the kind of sex you have with a person that you’re in a committed relationship with. And that a lucky paparazzo had simply been in the right alleyway at the right time. And that Marc and him had barely been on speaking terms before the photo had hit the front page of every major publication in the world.

So here they are.

“And what about last year’s championship? Do you still hold the same opinion about Marc and Jorge Lorenzo's actions at the end of the year?” Another journo asks.

Vale pushes down the wave of emotion, hot and tense—embarrassed—that crests in his chest when he thinks about last year. That’s not what he’s here to do. He grits his teeth, instead. Keeps on smiling. He turns a little, uses the height difference between him and Marc to smile down at him, face close to his, and really sell it. The perfect couple. He winks back at the press.

“It sounds like you all want me to sleep on the couch!” He tries, and the tension in the room breaks, laughter tittering up from the press corp. A bomb defused. “No no no no, Marc and I, we are fine. We are better than fine, even! We are—“ He looks back at Marc, still too close, and pauses when he sees something complicated and delicate playing over his face. Something a little too real to be acting. But Marc quashes it when he sees Vale looking, and turns back towards the room, grin huge and polite. Vale’s words catch in his chest and tangle there for a moment, coming out a little stilted. He covers it with a theatrical shrug and a big smile. “We are good.”

As the press laugh, Marc’s shoulders unspool where they’re pressed against Vale—and he can tell Marc is relaxing, a little. Letting out some of whatever breath he’s been holding. It’s clear that what they’re doing, what Vale is saying, it’s working– the press swaying back to their side as they absorb the news, the shock of the two of them together. The picture they make.

Vale rubs a thumb over the bone of Marc’s shoulder. He's warm. 

Marc starts to speak. “You know, that is in the past. Valentino and I…” He searches for the words in English, brings a hand up to fiddle with his ear– one of his nervous tics. “We had a not so good relationship at the end of last year. But in the off-season, we talk. And learn to separate on-track and off-track. It is good between us.”

And Vale just about can’t stand that, even though he knows this is the plan. He can’t very well smooth this photo thing over and air his grievances at the same time. Doing this is the path of least resistance, he remembers. He tells himself. The one most palatable to the masses– him and Marc, united. Love overcomes all, he thinks bitterly. 

A journalist picks their head up.

“So it’s serious between you two, then? This is for real?”

Vale looks at Marc again, watches the slight flutter of his eyelashes, blinking as the question hits him. Vale wonders what he’s thinking about. If he’s wondering why they’re doing this, now in front of the whole world. If he’s asking himself how they let it get this far. Wondering why he got to his knees in that alleyway when Vale had told him to. Why he’d raced Vale the way he had the entire second half of last season. 

Marc’s smile dims, just for a second, and Vale pulls him closer.

He crushes the instinct to crack a joke just for Marc, to make him smile for real. To ask him why he’d had that look on his face a moment ago. To ask him to come to his trailer later just to– talk. Not to strategize with their PR teams, with their families. To just– be. Like it was before.

But that’s just not the kind of lives they lead. That’s not possible.

Valentino turns back to the press. Smiles. Lies.

“It’s real.”

[fictionalmenmakemecry]

Carmy Losin' Cool

Characters: Carmy Berzatto x reader

Summary: Things getting heated in the kitchen making Carmy emotions runs high. This leads to him acting out of character and making you beg for mercy.

Warnings: Fluff, Cursing

Author's note: Thinking of doing more The Bear fan fiction. Please let me know if you would like me to continue on this!

"Carmy, I need you to calm down" I grabbed his arm wanting him to draw his attention to me instead of the chaos around him.

"Fuck! This can't be happening..." His eyes were darting everywhere.

He pulled his hands up to his hair, tugging it, completely overwhelmed.

Hearing the printer continuously burning through paper as more tickets appeared.

"I-I'm so sorry" Sydney muttered coming to the realization of what was happening.

"I told you. I told you over and over. OVER AND OVER!" He raised his voice pointing aggressively at the takeout tablet.

" I checked it! It said that- " Sydney quivered.

I looked over and caught her line of sight. She had the look of fear in her eyes. She never saw Carmy like this. This heated. This angry.

"Get the FUCK out of the kitchen!" Carmy yelled picking up the fallen tickets that were now overflowing the shelf.

She didn't budget. Frozen.

"Syd, come on" I tried to usher her, getting in between her and Carmy.

"NOW!" He shouted feeling his breath on the back of my neck his arm extended to the door.

I pulled her by the arm leading her out of the kitchen. She followed like a zombie, completely hazed. I grabbed her bag from her locker and brought her to the front door.

I could hear Carmy giving aggressive orders in the back, still hearing the rage in his voice.

"I fucked up" She had finally caught up to what had happened.

I just nodded, wanting her to go home and let the everyone calm down.

"What's going to happen?" She looked at me, half way out the door.

I paused for a moment holding the door open but not looking away.

"Just stay away for the next two days. I'll talk to him" I said wanting this day to be over.

She nodded gently before giving me a fake soft smile but still seeing the sadness in her eyes.

I watched as she left and locked the door. I took a deep breath for a moment knowing I was going to have to stay calm in the whirlwind of emotions in the back.

I made my way back and continued to hear the dominant voice of Carmy still dictating away.

I walked in slowly and watched everyone work frantically, The only noises were Carmy, the banging of pans and the occasional 'Yes Chef'.

I turned around and went into the office. I was going to busy myself with overdue bills until this nightmare burnt out.

_________

"Hey" A soft voice spoke out.

I popped my head up from the mess of paper piles that were on my lap.

I saw Carmy leaning against the doorframe. His usual white t-shirt covered in fresh stains.

I didn't say anything. I was trying to read his mood before opening my mouth.

"I'm sorry about that in there." He gestured behind him.

I pressed my lips together but didn't say a word.

"Uhhh.. I know I'm a shit head for shouting at Syd the way I did." His head dropped.

He brought his hand up to his face and rubbed his eye, I could feel the exhaustion just by looking at him.

"You're going to have to apologize. We really need her." I murmured playing with the corner of the fold pages on my lap.

"Yea, I know. I fucked up" He whispered.

The kitchen doorway opened behind him and I saw a black curly hair behind Carmy.

"Goodnight Tina" I smiled

"Goodnight Boss" I heard back.

Carmy faced her and I could see half of her through the the doorway.

"All done?" He asked

She nodded giving a half smile.

"Everyone else gone home?"

"Yeah, you should both too. It's getting late" She pointed at the clock on the desk beside me.

1:30am. I swore it was 8:00pm a couple of hours ago.

She gave one more smile and gave Carmy a reassuring arm rub before leaving us.

I could feel the heaviness in my eyelids now that my body was aware of the time.

"I'm gonna head out" He looked back over at me.

I nodded pulling myself off the ground and bundling all the papers off the floor.

"Okay, well I'm going to check that everything is off and I'll be out in a min" I smiled.

We looked at each other for a moment. The heaviness I felt in my stomach when I realized how we got to this moment. The death of his brother, the immediate burden of this place on his shoulders and letting go of his old life.

I walked over closer to him and leaned into him. I wanted to give him a hug. I felt his arms wrap around me. The smell on onions off of him was stronger than usual. His skin burning hot. I could even feel it under his t-shirt. I was about to let go and felt him still holding the hug so I continue to hold him until I felt him lean back.

"Thank you" He whispered looking at me with his constant melancholy eyes.

He left the doorway and made his way to his locker.

I went back into the kitchen. The usual darkness except for the emergency exit lights. Giving the room a green hue. I ran my eyes over to check nothing was left out and everything was off.

I turned around and bumped into a body.

I let out a little yelp completely startled.

I looked up and saw Carmy looking down at me. Very close.

"Is everything okay?" I asked worryingly.

He nodded softly but never leaving my eyes.

My mind froze. I looked down at his lips. I felt him leaning into me. I couldn't stop myself if I tried. I brought my hands up to his chest. I wanted to taste him. I wanted to feel his lips against mine. His tongue against mine.

Our lips met. His were soft and warm. Our lips moved making the kiss deeper and deeper until I could taste him. Feel his mouth. His tongue gently caress mine. I relaxed into him, releasing a small moan in the back of my throat.

I felt him pull me in closer after that. He was hungry for me. That delicateness was fading away. I brought my hand down to his crotch to feel his hard bulge underneath. I heard his immediate appraisal from deep in his throat.

He pulled away, us both taking deep breaths.

He grabbed my hips and placed me on the steel surface urgently.

He looked at me his hands on my thighs but making their way further up. He paused for a moment.

I mouthed "Please". The heat coming from between my thighs was unbearable. Him looking at me that way made it worse.

A small smile appeared on his face, which made me more wet.

He hovered his hands over my clothed pussy before reaching up to unbutton my jeans. His nimble fingers popped them in a second. I glanced down at him to see him still looking at me.

He started slowly pulling down my pants, I raised my hips wanting to move this faster. He seemed to enjoy me begging at his mercy,

"Fuck" He leaned in his lips barely touching mine.

"I need this" He continued with his blue eyes taken over by lust.

The crack of a door was distant, pulling us out of our trance of neediness. We stayed still for a moment waiting for other sounds.

"Carmy, Y/n? You still here? I always forget my fucking phone." Tina voice travelled as she walked further into the restaurant.

We both snapped into gear. He pulled me fast off the counter and grabbed my hand. We raced to the walk in fridge. He closed the door gently behind us. We both stayed still try to listen for anything. But it was so insulated there, it was no use.

I looked down to see my jeans still unbuttoned. I looked up and redid them to see Carmy smiling with his hand in his hair.

"Close one" He whispered smiling back at me.

Masterlist for other fics

Let me know what you think!

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, today we have a rec list of bottom Louis fics where either Louis or Harry has amnesia. If you enjoy our rec lists, please be sure to like and reblog this post to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Finding Thoughts | Teen & Up | 6,810 words

"Hi, my name is Louis Tomlinson and I suffer from short term memory loss."

2) Our Love Was Made For Movie Screens. | Not Rated | 8,106 words

Harry wakes up and doesn't know anything about anything and Louis is his omega.

3) Cause I’m Really Not Fine At All | Mature | 13,679 words

Louis Tomlinson, one of the famous members of One Direction, is involved in a car accident that caused him to have amnesia, wiping all the last five years of his life from the memory. The interesting part is he may not remember that he has a girlfriend now, yet his mind seems to think that he has been in a relationship with one of the members, Harry Styles. Harry is baffled and shocked at the situation that's thrown in his face. He finds himself learning how to be a good boyfriend for Louis. It has to be easy.. right?

4) Indestructible | Explicit | 24,243 words

“Hi,” Harry murmurs, and Louis hiccups out a sob. “Hi,” he manages, still clutching onto Harry’s shoulders. Harry’s fingers drift across Louis’ cheeks, and there’s something off about Harry’s expression, but Louis can’t figure out what it is. “I’m okay,” Harry says, and Louis is going to say something to that, even if he doesn’t know what, except Harry’s kissing him. Louis freezes.

5) The Way This River Runs | Explicit | 27,417 words

Louis is provided a chance to start over. He takes it.

6) Deleted Scenes | Explicit | 33,623 words

Agent Harry Styles was injured on the job a few months back, and gets roped in one last mission before he can retire prematurely: playing house with Louis, a widower who has amnesia. The assignment seems simple at the beginning, but soon enough Harry's twisted in a web of his own making, and can't get out anymore.

7) Just A Pretty Boy | Explicit | 35,614 words

The alpha in front of him wasn’t only tall, but used every inch of his body to look even more threatening. He looked as shocked as Joseph felt, in his eyes he could clearly see horror and anger mixed into an odd and painful mix. It was as if he just watched a ghost or a monster from a nightmare come to life.  “Louis…” he said with a low voice. It wasn’t a question, he was calling Joseph by that name.  The crease between Joseph’s brows deepened. “Who?” Louis and Harry were married until, one day, Louis passed away in a tragic accident. Years later, he is found alive and with a thousand questions plaguing his mind. The most important ones; was his husband involved in his disappearance? And, how long did it take Harry and his best friend to fall in love after his supposed dead?

8) The Things I’d Do To Wake Up Next To You | Mature | 36,109 words

AU. Harry wakes up to a pregnant Louis Tomlinson and a wedding band on his finger.

9) Strangers In Love | Explicit | 42,207 words

Louis wakes up to find himself in a marriage with the last man he thought he'd ever end up with.

10) Define Me Again | Mature | 54,385 words

He's never felt so frightened in his life before, so fucking terrified for himself. And Louis. He looked down at their hands, which seemed to have been connected throughout the incident. He looked at the ring on Louis' hand, for the nth time that day. His heart hurt so bad now, he was terrified. He wanted to do so many things, he wanted to check on louis, if he- if he- God he couldn't even think about it. "Louis," he tried to whisper, but nothing but air came out from his mouth. "I love you, Harry," whispered a voice. But it was nowhere near him. Visions attacked his mind, rapidly flickering through like one would do the pages of a book. He was terrified. His entire life literally flashed in his mind, vision growing more and more weak and he fought unconsciousness. Memories and the picture of Louis lying unconscious in front of him altered and flickered, so rapidly that he felt dizzy with how fast his mind was whirring. What happens when you die? God he was so, so, so, fucking terrified. All his senses gave out, last thing he felt was Louis' hand in his and then, everything went black.

11) Flash Back To Me | Explicit | 73,068 words | Prequel

Louis narrows his eyes, wanting more than anything to tell Liam to go fuck himself, but he can’t be sure, is the thing. As much as he knows for a fact that he would never date someone like Harry Styles, he has months missing from his memory. And it’s scary to think that, in that time, everything he’s come to know about himself could have changed so drastically.

12) Consequences | Explicit | 78,556 words

Two years ago Harry let his powerful family come between him and the love of his life, something he deeply regrets. Louis has tried to move on from their devastating break up. Sometimes, he even thinks he has. It only takes one moment to freeze them back in time.

13) Invisible String | Explicit | 84,726 words

Louis swears on his life that that man came out of literal nowhere and he thanks each lucky star for having good breaks in his car. This strange alpha also happens to be the most beautiful being Louis has laid his eyes on. For some unknown reason, the omega feels safe around the alpha. It might seem strange, but you can't always explain why or how things are the way they are. All you can really be sure of is that they happen for a reason. There's a higher power (call it what you want) that knows better and definitely knows more than you do.

14) The Dead Of July | Explicit | 117,446 words

Harry is Captain America, and Louis’ been dead for 70 years.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.