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amourane · 9 hours

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why can't we love freely?

pairing: theodore nott x hufflepuff!reader

genre: angsttttt, secret relationship

w/c: 2k

summary: you're tired of being a secret and it was time to let theo know.

warnings: HEARTBREAK

a/n: this was initially meant to be for a request and i started writing it and i got on a roll only to finish the piece and go back to check the request to realise i did it all wrong lmao, so i decided to just post this instead <3 enjoy!

The busy chatter that filled the Great Hall was one that you were familiar with, afterall it had been the same for the past few years that you had been a part of Hogwarts. There was a hint of the sunlight peeking through the windows as the early morning bustle reached its peak. Everyone was rushing to pile breakfast onto the porcelain plates but you couldn’t help but linger at the entrance, looking back ever so often to check if a certain someone had arrived yet.

“Y/n hurry! Bloody Ernie is going to have devoured all the croissants before I even have a bite.” Hannah whined as she pulled you along towards the Hufflepuff table.

Her incessant nagging eventually made you move and you dragged yourself towards your fellow house members albeit a little sad you hadn’t seen the person that had been on your mind. You dig into your own meal, stabbing the fruits with your fork and shoving them into your mouth. There was the normal hubbub that surrounded you and you felt yourself melt into conversation with your friends once again.

A voice caught your attention and you immediately perked up at the deep chuckle that had your heart skipping a beat. There he was: Theodore Nott. Quite arguably the most handsome person in all of Hogwarts and, of course, your boyfriend. His tousled hair framed his angled face perfectly with single strands that fall into his eyes. You watched as a smirk danced on his lips as he sauntered over to his side of the hall. Theodore Nott had always possessed an aura that drew you into him. Even when you both weren’t dating you often found yourself staring at the handsome boy from your table, wondering what he was really like.

As Theodore's gaze met yours in that fleeting moment, a silent exchange passed between you, laden with unspoken emotions. In the depths of his eyes, you saw the words he couldn't voice.

“I love you.”

It’s silent but it’s there.

The both of you had agreed to keep the relationship under the wraps, not wanting anyone to know about the two of you. It would cause an uproar and neither of you were sure if you wanted to handle the aftermath of the situation. So this was what it came to. Secret glances and whispered love confessions. You couldn’t walk up to him, you couldn’t kiss him in front of everyone, you couldn’t even talk to your friends about him.

Although you had said it would be fine for it to be a secret you didn’t think that he would still want to keep it a secret after so long. You didn’t want to hide your affection for Theo. You truly loved him more than anything and it had already been a year since you officially started dating. Surely it didn’t matter that much that it was a secret.

"Hello? Y/n? You there?" Hannah's voice pulled you from the depths of your thoughts, and you blinked, feeling as though you were emerging from a distant haze. Her concerned expression hovered before you as she waved a hand in front of your face, urging you back to the present moment.

You glanced down to find a forgotten cup of pumpkin juice in your hand, its contents untouched. How long had you been lost in your own thoughts?

"I'm... I'm sorry, Hannah." You murmured, offering her a weak smile as you tried to shake off the lingering tendrils of distraction. "I guess I just...drifted off for a moment there."

“You alright? You don’t look well.” She reached her hand to bring it to your forehead, trying to feel if you had a fever. “You were properly zoned out there.”

“Yeah yeah I’m fine.” You tried to brush off her concern and you offered her a meek smile. “Just didn’t have a good night’s sleep, that's all.”

Your friend looked at you, her lips pursed, a sign she didn’t actually believe what you said. You forced another smile in Hannah's direction, you silently hoped that she wouldn't press any further

Truth be told, you weren’t fine. The past couple of weeks had consisted of your thoughts rampaging in your mind. The continuous stream of worries that clouded your view as you tried desperately to reason with yourself. It wasn’t a huge issue that your relationship with the Slytherin was a secret but gradually what were stupid thoughts now turned into ones that plagued you everywhere you went. You’d be lying if you said you were okay with not even being acknowledged as his girlfriend as he ignored you in class and everywhere public.

Your eyes locked with Theo’s once again and you saw the way there was concern etched into his face. Your boyfriend knew when you were upset and he definitely knew that you were far from okay right now. He mumbled something to Blaise who was beside him before getting up to leave - a signal for you to do the same.

“I think I’m going to go take a nap before class starts, can you come wake me up later?”

Hannah nodded and you thank her quickly before whisking yourself away in the direction the Slytherin had set off to. The chatter faded as you walked down the hallway and you were now left alone with your thoughts once again. It was bad you knew but you couldn’t help but feel as though you were something to be ashamed of. Was that why Theo was so desperate to cling on to the secrecy?

“Principessa?” Your boyfriend gently grabbed your wrist, twirling you around to face him and you realised you had been too caught up in your mind to even notice he was there. “You okay? You seem a bit off my love.”

His eyes twinkled with concern and you saw the love and affection you were familiar with and it warmed your heart. You loved Theodore Nott more than anything but the questions had plagued your mind for too long now and you needed to voice your thoughts. Otherwise, you thought you would go insane.

“Why are we a secret?”

It was barely above a whisper but Theo heard it. He knew that you weren’t one for loud environments, preferring the quiet of the library and the solitude of your dorm. You were always shy and introverted, rarely speaking to others. You liked to keep to yourself. Even with Theo you were shy and meek but that didn’t mean you weren’t happy. There was always a smile on your face, a loving beam that would make his own heart stutter. Yet your lips weren’t drawn into the bright grin he knew, instead they were in a frown and he recognised your nervousness as you wringed your hands.

Theo would have never considered himself to notice little details. He had always ignored everyone else around him and he never paid enough attention nor did he care enough about others to recognise the little tell-tale signs that everyone did. Until he met you. Then he noticed every little detail, from the way your nose would scrunch when you tried to bite back a laugh to the way you would tangle your fingers in your hair when you were trying to solve a problem.

So it was only natural he realised that you weren’t okay.

“Y/n we talked about this-”

“Yes I know it’s just that.” You paused. The words were bubbling up your throat, you felt them rising and rising and rising and you were unable to stop. You took a sharp inhale. “I don’t understand why, not anymore.”

“Y/n, mia cara, we’ve been through this. No one will accept us. People won’t understand the love between us and they’ll try to tear us apart. My friends, they won’t understand.”

“Then make them understand.”

You didn’t get it. You couldn’t get it. Was he ashamed? Was he embarrassed? Why couldn’t he fight for you, for both of you?

You felt the tears welling in your eyes, threatening to roll down your face. It was all too much, the constant doubt, the dread, the shame. You had thought you would have been free of these thoughts for a day but who knew that today was when you would finally break.

Your boyfriend wrapped his arms around your waist, tugging you into his chest. He felt warm and your arms loop around his body. You cling onto him, unwilling to let go. It was too late to stop the tears now and you felt them fall as you sniffled in his arms.

“Theo, Merlin knows we've been together for more than a year now, and it's been like living in a shadow. I've kept us a secret from everyone - my friends, my family - and I don’t even know anymore. I want to be able to love you openly, without fear or hesitation. I want to hold your hand, kiss your cheek, wake up beside you without worrying about who might see. And I know that there’s issues but we can work through them together can’t we? I want to love you freely…don’t you?”

You pulled away from his chest as you searched his eyes, pleading with him to agree with you. Theo stared at your figure. He watched as the tears he promised not to make fell from your eyes. He felt his heart twist at your words, unable to find the words he wanted to say. Silence. You waited. And then you saw it. The sliver of doubt. That was all you needed before you were recoiling from his touch, pushing his hands off you.

Theo was quick, he tried to pull you back, tried to keep you near him but it didn't stop you from trying to get as far away from him as possible.

“Y/n, please, stay please.”

His voice was a desperate plea, each syllable heavy with the weight of his love. But as you backed away, tears streaming down your cheeks, Theodore's heart shattered into a thousand irreparable pieces. He watched helplessly as you retreated from him, the distance between you growing with each shaky step you took.

You shook your head as you backed away from the boy you loved. You tried to steady your breathing but all you could manage were shaky breaths as the tears kept falling. It was all too much. It was overwhelming, the feeling that engulfed you whole when you first met Theodore Nott had spit you back out and now you were left not knowing what to do.

“I-I…I can’t.” You stuttered, refusing to look him in the eye. “I can’t do this, not when you don’t feel the same. I can’t, not anymore.”

“No.” Theo reached forward but it only made you step further away as if his touch would burn you like acid. His outstretched hand fell limply to his side, his heart breaking with each word you uttered. “No, don't do this. Y/n please don’t do this. Mia cara, I love you so much you know that. I love you to the moon and back and I will never stop loving you so please don’t do this. I’m begging you.”

“Not enough.” Your voice wavered as the words left your mouth. “You don’t love me enough and you’ve made that clear Theo. I can’t do this, I really can’t. I’m sorry.”

And then you were gone, disappearing into the depths of the corridor, leaving Theodore standing alone. Each word you said replayed in his mind. His emotions toss and turn in the turmoil he had been thrust into. You were gone. You left. He felt his heart burn and ache, pounding at his ribcage. There was a numbing pain that overtook his senses as a wave of anguish washed over him. He reached a trembling hand to his cheek, only to find it damp with tears

It was then that Theodore Nott realised it was the first time he had cried since his mother’s death.

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott imagine #theo nott imagine #theodore nott imagines #theodore nott #theodore nott x y/n #slytherin boys x reader #slytherin boys #angst #theodore angst #theodore x reader #theodore nott angst #theodore nott x you #theo nott x reader #theo nott x y/n #theo nott angst

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eriexplosion · 18 hours

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Yesterday everyone was posting their feelings on TBB. I'm glad I waited, because there's a lot swirling around. Cut for negativity again.

I was introduced to The Bad Batch in August 2022 and fell instantly in love. The characters, the story, the complex family dynamics, they all spoke to me. I wasn't even a Star Wars fan but I went through and devoured The Clone Wars, Rebels, The Mandalorian, all of it. I threw myself into this world and adored every second of it. I must have rewatched season one over five times before season two even came out.

When season two premiered I loved it. Every Tuesday night I stayed up until the episode drop and devoured it immediately. I looked ahead at the schedule and took days off work for the double episodes, for the big Crosshair episodes - he was my favorite early on and season two only made that grow. But season two also really brought Tech into my radar even more. I had always liked him, but here he was shining. The Crossing really solidified it, as an autistic person. I'd never heard someone describe the difference in processing so succinctly before, so clearly, and it spoke to me like very little had. Here was a character that was like me. Here was a character that I needed when I was an undiagnosed child, someone that would have made me feel like I had at least some way of describing my differences.

Then, well. He died. It was an affecting scene, but it felt out of nowhere, it felt unfinished. Tech didn't even get the climax of the episode. He just fell into the clouds, the Batch grieved for a few minutes, and then the plot steamrolled right along.

I didn't believe it, not after the mad scientist presented his goggles and claimed not to salvage anything else. It seemed like such an obvious fake out. The longer I sat with it the less satisfying it felt. It felt so brushed over, so pointless, all for a mission that they accomplished nothing on. Then came the social media circus. Again and again his fall was shoved in our faces on Twitter, demanding we stream it. TikToks were made that were so out of touch they felt like parodies, the wound ripped open again and again, and I thought surely there had to be a purpose to it.

So I waited for season 3 as interviews were done that seemed to almost intentionally avoid calling him dead. As tweets were made promising we'd be so fulfilled if we could only see who was onscreen in the mid-season! (A tweet that immediately garnered dozens of people hoping it referred to Tech, all without a single comment to try and quell the speculation.) It felt already like we were being toyed with, but I thought it had to be for a reason or a purpose. More weirdly vague discussions went up about his Sacrifice, his Fall, his Anything But Death, even as everyone insists that it was so meaningful, the way he died on a mission that accomplished nothing. Jokes were made around Valentines Day.

He Fell For You, get it?

The first official use of killed went up on the databank right after the trailer, on Hunter's page of all places. The first time the interviews used dead was the Friday before the premier. It all felt too late, theories had already grown for months by that point.

Season 3 finally came and I waited up for every episode drop just like I did for season 2, hoping for him to come back or at least for him to be properly grieved, since we had barely a couple of minutes in Plan 99 before it was swept away for the next plot point. Surely Tech's impact deserved an episode of focus, if he were really gone.

The previously on plays his last words twice. But then we skip months into the future. We don't see Crosshair find out the news - even though Tech died on a mission to retrieve him. We don't watch Omega grieve. She barely seems to notice she's missing a brother. We got a brief allusion in episode two. It took three episodes to even mention his name in passing. Five episodes in everyone got their chance to look sad about him, but only for a few seconds and only when his skills were relevant. Compared to the gorgeous callback to Mayday in the same episode, it felt shallow. He had to have been more important than this didn't he?

Episodes 6 & 7 felt like maybe there was a reason. We see a new masked assassin that gets extra focus, who got put through a series of Tech-adjacent situations, whose beef with Crosshair was just a little too personal, who survived longer than all the rest but stayed masked. Rex talks about losing brothers, but Hunter says nothing about the brother they lost. I hoped it all meant something, that this was the reason that he felt so much like he was thrown away, so that he could come back in.

More one off mentions that only really come up when it's about how useful Tech would have been. More poking at the wound that still felt open and raw because we'd never gotten any closure. The closest we get is a single scene in episode eleven, so late in the season and so brief that I thought that couldn't possibly be it.

CX-2 comes back, and he talks like Tech. He's still not unmasked. I really need him to be something because otherwise what was it all for?

The most emotion comes in Juggernaut, from Phee. Its a highlight because it actually feels like it was about him, like he mattered as a person. It's episode twelve and we finally talk about him like a person. We never saw her get the news either.

Episodes thirteen and fourteen pass without any mentions at all. We're running out of time. Episode 15 hits and we get one raw one from Crosshair that Clone Force 99 died with Tech. It's the first time they directly say he's dead in so many words. It's the season finale. CX-2 is a nobody it turns out, and he dies faceless. Everyone gets a happy ending and after over a year of wondering if we'd ever get closure, it turns out Tech's just dead. But look how happy everyone else is!

Everyone gets to grow old. Except the autistic one of course. He's just dead and it hardly feels like it mattered at all. Did you know Wrecker and Hunter don't use his name once in season three? Omega and Echo mention him once each. Crosshair twice, only once with any emotion behind it. Phee tops the charts at three mentions, two by name and one by nickname. We see his goggles four times. I kept count.

There was never a bigger plan, this was just all he was worth. We spent two seasons on Crosshair's absence. We spent a whole episode dealing with it when Echo decided to go with Rex. Tech dies though and all his life amounted to was a handful of mentions when his skills would have been useful, some shots of his broken goggles, and endless cooing out of the text over how meaningful his sacrifice was. Too meaningful to take back, of course, even as Ventress is brought back from her own sacrifice.

I had really, really thought that this time autistic life would be worth more than autistic death. That a character that felt so carefully handled couldn't have just been thrown away for shock value, barely to even be mentioned again, his memory used to string us along to keep us watching. If you added up every mention and shot through season 3 it might actually clock in at less time than was spent on Mayday's send off.

I'm an adult. I'll survive, though the sting of seeing yet another character like me used as a stepping stone for everyone else's happy ending will take a while to fade. But I think about the child I used to be who needed a character like Tech. And I think about how it would have felt to actually get that only to watch him die a handful of episodes later as a side note to his family's story, barely even mentioned again. How badly it would have hurt, how deep it would have scarred.

I'm not that child anymore. But there are a lot of autistic kids out there that are the same as I used to be, and they're learning for the first time that people like us don't get happy endings. Instead they die so that everyone around them can rise up, and they might even get mentioned a few times. But don't worry. Everyone will tell you how meaningful and special it is and how delusional you were to ever hope for anything else.

The Bad Batch still means a lot to me. I think it always will. I love the characters. I love the family, and all the potential they had. But the sting of not belonging in this happy ending is there, and it's deep. It's been a long time since I trusted a show. It'll be a long time before I risk trusting another. And I hope that the autistic kids trying to learn how to close their hearts off behind new walls are doing okay.

#the bad batch #the bad batch spoilers #tbb spoilers #could not sleep so I'm in my feels instead #it did help to type it out #I'm not going anywhere fandom wise but I have to admit I'm hurt

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babsisbakery · 1 day

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How far will you take it?

Lia Wälti x fem!reader part 1

Do you love me or do you love that you have a gf. That you aren't single. That you don't have to spend nights alone. Someone in your arms or someone to hold you. Would you love me if i wasn’t ur gf or just when I am. Maybe you just love the idea of love but don't actually love me. Or maybe you only “love” me because you are bored and have nobody else. I'm just here and showed you affection, so you took it. Took it, to be in a relationship, to get as close as possible to actual love. In reality it isn't though. It's just a fantasy you create. But what about me?

You love being in relationships. Exes of you have warned me, multiple, so so many. I ignore your red flags. As if I had a red and green colour deficiency. I give and I give, do I receive anything in return? No. Because you need, want the affection. But when I need it, you are nowhere to be seen. When I'm clingy or want some attention. You take your sweet time responding. Time away from me.The cold shoulder, silent treatment, no response after I shoot a text. Even Duolingo messages me more than you and that's sad to admit.

I'm wondering if you leave me on-read on purpose too. I know you do sometimes on insta. Why's that? Did I offend you? Lia, you leave me with crumbs. Crumbs of your existence. Which I absorb like a greedy vacuum. This isn't healthy. It makes my mind spiral every night. Wondering if you love me. Wondering if you are cheating. Wondering if you have found the one but stay with me out of convenience. No-one in a relationship should have to wonder if their partner loves them, yet here I am. You give me almost nothing. Stop messing with my feelings, don't drag me around if you don't feel the same. Let me find someone who does in fact love me if you don't. I want a relationship where both sides give 100 percent. A balance. Yet still all my words fall to dull ears, Words spoken to someone who doesn't want to change or listen. Someone who wants to live their life to the fullest, but why drag me into this chaos of a life.

So either you get a grip of yourself or I'm done. I'll not only leave you but Arsenal as well. I wouldn't be able to look you in the eyes. So I'm giving you an ultimatum. Yes, like one in the show but without a ring, I want to sense your commitment. Because those restless nights are plaguing my brain. I want to become a mother eventually and for that I need a partner. If it's you or not, I can't foresee. If you can't imagine a future with me, then don't. I'll go. I'll be gone. Just say the words. I’ll be out of your hair once and for all.

- Your dear friend/gf

This is the letter Lia found on the counter top after returning from a cruel training session. Lia sat down on the sofa, still in her gym clothes. She initially assumed it was some sort of grocery list, she wanted to ignore it. But something in her mind nagged her to take a better look. She was shocked and ashamed of herself. She had really broken you. This wasn't in her plans, to destroy your whole being. She simply wanted to have some fun, have you as her girl. Yet there wasn't a trace of you. Not in this apartment, albeit your belongings were still at their places, nor in training today. Now she knew the reason why you were out of sight this evening. You are gone for now. Somewhere you felt loved and cherished. She had led you to exile with one foot in the door. The question is will Lia convince you to stay or will she set you free to be at peace? Which path will she choose?...

#woso #woso imagine #woso x reader #arsenal women #lia walti #lia wälti #lia walti x reader #lia walti imagine #arsenal wfc #awfc x reader #awfc imagine #awfc

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sansaorgana · 13 hours

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I had an idea earlier about buck x reader, where after buck and the other 2 escaped and left bucky behind in part 9, they stumble upon a house near the forest (after the german kid soliders attacked them).

The reader lives there and she basically helps them hiding for a bit and also returning to the english base. She is against the war (which is the reason she helps them) and maybe a little angst where buck needs to protect her at the base bc she is still a german citizen.

What do you think?

hi! thank you for your request! 💞 honestly, I think it's the first 100% angst piece I have written for Buck because even the ones with sad events that I have posted so far had happy endings... but not this one 😅 since I have already written a similar fic and didn't want to repeat the same ending... I couldn't think of anything else how they could have their happily ever after 😪 I hope you can forgive me 💔

I had to currently close the requests because I got so many so I'm working on them atm 🙏🏻

In the heart of the enemy’s territory, he felt like a chased wild animal. Even though he was still human enough not to pull a trigger at a brainwashed German kid, Buck Cleven felt like a prey with nothing but survival on his mind. The forest was dark, muddy and unfriendly. A never ending maze with predators hiding all around. A thought of his dead friend and a thought of Bucky left behind were what kept him sane. The sun was going down slowly and he had no idea where to go. His other friend, Bill, was right behind him.

“Buck,” he hissed and waved his hand to make them both freeze in place. “There’s a house,” he pointed at the dark and old building by the country road behind the trees. “We’re close to town.”

“The lights are off. Maybe it’s inhabited,” Buck pointed out. “If it’s the case, we can find some supplies there.”

“Shall I go and check?” Bill asked.

“No, I will go,” Buck nodded and clutched on the gun in his hand hidden under the coat.

He walked carefully and slowly, making sure not to make too much noise, with his back hunched and breath steady. His blue eyes scanned the garden behind the house. It had herbs growing there but it was messy and the windows were dirty. Everything looked as if it was abandoned.

Encouraged by the looks of it, Buck walked to the front of the house and tried to push the door open but they were locked. However, the door was wooden and old, all it took was another, stronger push to open them wide with a loud squeak that made him wince.

He waited for a while to make sure there were no footsteps approaching him but when he heard nothing but silence, he entered the house and walked around curiously as the last rays of the sun going down lit the walls and the pictures hung on them. There were mostly family portraits and religious images – everything cosy and very cottage-like. There was only one portrait of a young soldier in a Wehrmacht uniform but his face was so friendly and sad that Buck didn’t even feel any hatred looking at it.

Focused on the picture, he lost his focus for a while. And then he heard a small noise and turned around with widened eyes as he spotted a young, scared woman in the corner of the room. She had a gun, too. Her hands were shaking and her pupils were huge out of fear but she was pointing the gun at him. He didn’t know if he should raise his hands and give up or point the gun at her in return – it was very doubtful she would actually pull the trigger.

He trusted no one. When he took a small step ahead to test her, she startled but she didn’t unload the pistol. So he pointed his own weapon at her and in that moment she dropped her gun and lifted her hands up while sobbing.

“P-Please, no,” she pleaded in English. “Please, don’t kill me,” her whispers were broken and shaky and Buck felt bad for her. Did she live in that house?

“Do you live here alone?” He asked, trying not to sound too nice. She nodded. “How so?”

“I lived here with my brother and my papa,” she explained and pointed her finger at the portrait on the wall carefully. “They took my brother away. In the beginning of the war. He didn’t come back. My papa, he was old now. But they took him too a few weeks ago. Because they need more men,” she was looking for the right words with her limited vocabulary.

“How do you know English?” Buck raised an eyebrow at her.

“Papa taught us. He was a soldier in the last war. He met the English and the Americans. He was a captive,” she explained and sniffled her tears. “Please, don’t kill me,” she begged once more and Buck felt stupid for still pointing his gun at her. He lowered his hand and she sighed out of relief.

“Do you need help?” He asked. Something about her and the state of this house made him forget about his own tragic situation at the moment. She was a young woman left alone in the middle of nowhere in a country that was on the verge of losing the war. It was not safe for her and she looked weakened as if she had not had any proper meal in a long while.

“Do you?” She asked.

“Me and my friend… He’s inside the forest… We ran away from the camp, too. We are American pilots. We need to get to the American soldiers. Do you know where we can find them?” Buck asked.

“They are in town,” the girl nodded. “I can take you to them tomorrow,” she offered.

“Why not now?”

“Because it’s dark already. And you need rest,” she pointed out. Buck squinted his eyes at her. “I don’t have a phone here. And German police are not here anymore. You are safe,” she assured him. “Tell your friend to come here,” the girl crouched down and picked up her gun again. Buck clutched on his but she hid hers into the pocket of her patched dress. “It’s not loaded,” she revealed to him with a sad smile. “I lost all my bullets two weeks ago when a few strange men came here and I had to scare them off.”

Buck nodded and slowly walked out of the house. He still was not sure if she was trustworthy but he craved nothing but rest. He came back for Bill and told him about the situation they had found themselves in.

“I’m not sure, Buck,” he shook his head. “Listen, what if I go there and scare her, steal some food and we run to that town on our own?” He proposed.

Buck understood where his friend was coming from. And he did not judge him. However, he did not agree to his plan.

“No,” he only said. “It’s just a girl.”

“They’re all just girls and boys. Like the kids back there in the forest,” Bill reminded him.

“I know. But she’s not like them.”

“How do you know that?” Bill requested an explanation.

“I just know,” was all Buck could say as he nodded at his friend to follow him.

Reluctantly, Bill went to the house after Buck. The girl was sitting by the round kitchen table and lighting a few candles. She looked up, giving them a doe-eyed look.

“I don’t have electricity here anymore,” she confessed. “But the candles are fine,” she added. “Here, I collected some of my brother’s and papa’s clothes for you to change. When I take you to town tomorrow, I don’t want anyone to know who you are. In the forest… There are a lot of people you can’t trust,” she explained.

“And you?” Bill asked, still not convinced. “Why can we trust you?”

“You have to,” she looked at him and then she turned around to point at the kitchen cabinet. “I don’t have much food left. And the fridge doesn’t work without electricity. I have some cans and a few wild berries I picked in the forest. Some cheese they gave me in town out of mercy.”

“We don’t want to eat your food,” Buck assured her. “Only a little bit.”

“I’m hungry,” Bill added and Buck shot him an unpleasant glance.

“So is she. And the food is hers. She doesn’t have to help us, you know?”

Bill went silent and took a pile of clothes to the living room where he began to change. Buck was left alone with the girl in the kitchen. She was looking down nervously, focusing on his hands to avoid his eyes.

“And what is your name?” He asked her out of courtesy.

“It’s (Y/N),” she whispered. “And yours?”

“I’m Major Gale Cleven,” he reached his hand out and she hesitantly shook it. She also dared to look up and meet his gaze. Buck felt his heart skipping a beat at the sight of how sad and broken those young eyes were.

Back where he was from, young girls were not affected by the war like this. Sure, they were worried about their husbands, fathers and brothers. But they were still drinking coke, danced at the parties, whined at the shortage of nylon and drew the lines on their calves to imitate the tights. They were slowly getting used to wearing jeans as they overtook the factories, they were poster girls and had their hair done up in victory rolls. They were marking the letters with red and pink lipsticks and perfumes. And this young girl in front of him already had the eyes of a very old and wise woman. It shouldn’t be like this.

“Major Gale Cleven,” she repeated. “Sounds like from a movie.”

He was just Buck. Nothing special at all. He was not even from Hollywood or New York. But to her he was already unrealistic enough. She batted her eyelashes and looked away, shyly.

“Not really,” Buck tried to convince her and she gave him a sad smile.

Bill came back in new clothes. It was Buck’s turn now but he was afraid of leaving (Y/N) alone with his friend, so he kept staring at them awkwardly.

“Go,” Bill rolled his eyes. “I won’t hurt her,” he promised.

So Buck grabbed a pile of clothes preparead for him and went to the living room to change as fast as possible. When he came back to the kitchen, Bill was already eating some canned food with a slice of cheese and a few wild berries. A similar meal was waiting for Buck, too. (Y/N) was sitting by the table but she had no food in front of her.

“And you?” He asked her as he sat down.

“I already ate,” she told him but he had a feeling she lied so he pretended to be full already after eating a half of the plate. He offered her the rest and she eagerly took it from him as her eyes sparkled. It was probably her first “proper” meal on that day.

After they ate, (Y/N) showed them to their rooms. One belonged to her father and it was downstairs. Upstairs there were two tiny bedrooms. One was hers and one was her brother’s. She wanted Buck to sleep in it. She didn’t have to say it out loud but he knew that she trusted him more than she trusted his friend. Bill was not complaining because the room downstairs was bigger and had a nicer bed.

When Bill was already in the bedroom given to him, (Y/N) was helping Buck to put the sheets on. He was insisting there was no need but she tried her best to be a good host even in such gruesome circumstances.

“When I do this… It’s a bit like… It’s still normal, you know?” She tried to explain the best she could. He nodded at her. He understood. “There you go,” she fixed the sheets for the last time and looked down proudly at the made up bed.

“Thank you,” Buck nodded and sat on the edge of the bed. He looked up at the poster on her brother’s wall. It was very old and the colours were faded away now but he could recognise it. It was a movie poster of Charlie Chaplin’s movie City Lights.

“My brother liked Charlie Chaplin,” (Y/N) smiled. “And the films. Especially American ones. He didn’t get to see many but he liked the posters,” she explained. “When he was able to see a film, he would come back home and tell me everything about it.”

“I hope he’s alright,” Buck tried to cheer her up.

“He died,” she explained and he felt a stinging pain in his heart.

“You only said he hadn’t come back…”

“They sent us a medal and all. He’s dead,” she explained. “But papa threw the medal away. It’s in the river now.”

“Why?”

“Because he didn’t like Hitler. And my brother didn’t like him either,” she nodded. “I wish he was here, my brother. He would like you,” she added before finally approaching the door to leave him alone for the night. “Good night,” she walked away and closed the door quietly.

Buck was exhausted but he couldn’t sleep that night. He couldn’t stop thinking about the girl. What would happen tomorrow? She would take them to town, drop them off with the Americans and then what? She would just go back here? To that awful house in the middle of nowhere where she was starving and not safe? He hated to even think of such a possibility.

The walk to town was stressful and everyone kept giving them funny and suspicious looks. However, (Y/N)’s poker face and determination managed to take them to the town centre safely. It looked awful and empty – like a ghost town. She pointed at one of the soldiers patrolling the street and told them he was an American.

“Go to him,” she only said and turned around to walk away but Buck grabbed her by the sleeve of her coat and Bill hissed at him. Buck didn’t listen to that.

“What about you?” Buck asked her and her eyes widened.

“What do you mean? I don’t want him to see me,” she explained.

“You’re just going back home now?”

“Yes,” she nodded.

“No,” Buck shook his head. “You’re coming with us.”

“What are you doing, Gale?” Bill asked, irritated.

“She deserves a warm meal at least,” Buck insisted and kept a tight grip on (Y/N)’s sleeve as they all approached the suspicious soldier.

They lifted their hands up and explained who they were. Their accents and believable numbers of their units made the patrolling soldier less hostile. But then he laid his eyes on the girl.

“And her?” He asked.

“She’s with us. She helped us,” Buck told him.

“I know her. She lives in this town,” the soldier squinted his eyes at (Y/N) and she took a deep breath in. “She’s German.”

“Yes, she helped us last night. We wouldn’t be here if it was not for her,” Buck repeated. “Listen, I just want her to eat something warm, alright?”

The soldier called for a few other men who came quickly after and had a short and quiet discussion. Eventually they nodded their heads at them and led them inside of a building full of soldiers. They all looked up curiously and suspiciously.

Bill left Buck’s side quickly to talk to the men stationed there. But Buck didn’t leave (Y/N)’s side as he felt he had to look after her in this place. They were given a proper, warm meal and they sat by the table in the corner. She was eating fast and with shaky hands like a starving child given food after a long while. Buck’s heart broke and he reached his hand out to hold one of her cold ones. She looked up, scared, and he smiled softly.

“Slow down,” he only whispered.

“The women here are nothing special,” one of the men sitting by the table nearby commented. “You should have seen the French ones,” he whistled.

Buck didn’t react to that as his jaw clenched. (Y/N) ignored that comment, too, but her eyes were saddened.

When she was done with her meal, Buck approached the man in charge of the unit and asked if they could give her a few cans of food and some other supplies. The man did not want to agree.

“We’re short on them ourselves, Major Cleven,” he explained.

“Yes, sir, I understand, sir. But she lives alone in the middle of nowhere. Her brother is dead, her father most likely, too. She helped us. She’s a good woman, sir,” Buck tried to convince him.

“There is no doubt about that, son. I’m sorry. She’s not the first and not the last good woman suffering in this war.”

Buck felt defeated and helpless when he approached (Y/N) who was already preparing to leave.

“I’m sorry. I couldn’t convince him to give you supplies,” he admitted, ashamed of himself.

“It’s fine. I’ll be fine,” she tried to assure him and squeezed his arm. “You’re a good man,” she added. “Thank you for the meal… And the kindness.”

“I should be the one thanking you more,” he couldn’t help himself and he fixed her ruffled hair. Everything about her was screaming inside of him to help her, to take care of her. But he couldn’t and it was killing him. “I will never forget you, German girl.”

“And I will never forget you, Major Cleven,” she smiled and he could only watch her walk away, approaching the small road leading back to the forest.

If Bill hadn’t been there with him, he would have started thinking that she was nothing but a forest fairy he had imagined. After all he was in a land of fairytales.

MASTERLIST || BUCK MASTERLIST

#sansaorgana: Answered #rougegenshin #*buck #lilysfiction #gale cleven x reader #austin butler x reader

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probadbatch · 2 days

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A few thoughts as we head into this finale...

Star Wars was my first love and it's the love that's never left me. From the moment I saw those twin suns set over Tatooine, I was a goner. There have been times when it's been on the back burner, so to speak, but it's always been there and always will be. It's special to me like nothing else.

The Bad Batch is special to me even beyond that.

I've been here since their first appearance in the Clone Wars and I never could have predicted how much the Bad Batch would come to mean to me. This show has been so much more than I ever imagined. It's been joy, it's been heartbreak, it's been intrigue, and it's been hope. These boys and everyone I've met in this corner of fandom have woven their way into my heart in a way I couldn't undo even if I wanted.

I have no intention of packing it up and moving on as soon as the finale is finished. I'm not ready yet. But I imagine there will eventually come a day when even the Bad Batch moves to that back burner in my brain and one day this blog may not appear very active. I promise you I will still be lurking somewhere on tumblr and the Bad Batch is still very much on my mind somewhere.

If you find this post in a year or five or ten, please know that I am always ready to dive right back into peak fangirl mode with you. I will never think it's weird if you reach out and want to talk Star Wars or Bad Batch. Whether you are an old fan like me or just discovering this show for the first time years from now, I already consider us best friends and I will be thrilled to join you in whatever stage of fandom you find yourself in.

I've been a Star Wars fan since I was ten years old. Back then, there were only six movies and I was too young to appreciate that as far as anyone really knew, Star Wars had just closed its final chapter. If there's anything I've learned since then, it's that the story lives on in all of us - and who knows? Maybe one day it will return to the screen too.

Just because this show is wrapping up doesn't mean our love for it will end. Things will begin to look different after tomorrow and that is a little sad to think about but it can still be something we love just as much. Bittersweet as it is, I am looking forward to stepping into that new phase with all of you.

I don't know what's going to happen in the finale. What I do know is that the last few years have been a wonderful gift and I am more grateful than I can ever say. I will cherish this show and the memories it's given me for the rest of my life.

So as this chapter closes and we prepare to move on to the next one, I just want to thank you all for being such an incredible part of this experience for me.

I love you all.

#tbb #the bad batch #star wars #clone force 99 #love letter to the show and fandom

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rosedom · 2 days

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hihihihi its your froggy friend aureramphibian again :D I have a lime popsicle and degenerate thoughts about pretty boys lesgo here's one that's been bouncing around in my brain like the DVD logo when the movie was paused too long and it's about my favorite boy!!

so Tighnari's fuckin stubborn, right? this is common knowledge that he'd be stubborn? Getting into an argument with him- not even really an argument, even, it's just a stupid petty squabble type thing but you're frustrated and he's annoyed so he stomps off to do some paperwork or experiment notes or something and you go to your shared room and stew in your thoughts for a bit before you decide fuck it, idea time and head over to where Tighnari's focused on work, frowning intensely at it. He doesn't exactly ignore you, just kind of 'hm?'s at you and just tells you he's busy, can it wait? So off goes the shirt, tossing it onto the floor. You see his ears twitch but he doesn't say anything and he doesn't turn around. So then your pants come off, and he still doesn't notice, so your underwear follows and you stride over and grab his chin, gently tilting his head to look at you and hey, that sure fuckin worked!!! He's staring at you in shock, too surprised to be embarrassed of how unashamedly he's just staring at you, everything from your shoulders and collarbones to your hips and waist to the apex of your thighs and how he can see you're turned on. And when you ask him, all teasing, if he'll pay attention to you now, he's nodding before you've finished talking and he's reaching for your sides to pull you closer. (And tbh that'd be up to you personally if you'd let him but since it's me writing and you know how I am whore with an oral fixation at your service you can probably guess where this is going ^>^) Stopping him gently, keeping him from pulling you closer and instead dropping to your knees, helping him scoot his chair out and tapping the waistband of his pants, letting him pull them off himself along with his underwear so you're face-to-face with his pretty cock, twitchy and aching and practically begging you to suck it. If you can hold off for just a minute longer, just stroking him with your fingers to give him some stimulation, you can call him your good boy and your pretty fox, tell him you're sorry for fighting, you know it was petty and you don't like when he's mad, he looks so much better when he's completely stupid from the pleasure you're giving him and tbh he wouldn't be too far gone yet so he's not all there, sure, but he's there enough to agree the fight was stupid and petty and he's sorry it got like that too but can you talk about this later because he wants more and who are you to deny him when he's asking so nicely? And this is where my brain completely devolves into just body worship/cock worship and I reach a level of unhinged degeneracy that is genuinely embarrassing hfgdjdfhgdkjg listen i just really think boys are so pretty and deserve to be told and SHOWN so, is that a crime?!?!

Anyways- Hope you enjoyed, Rosey! <333

"i (aureramphibian hi hello it me :D) am SO sad I just realized tumblr absolutely nommed on an ask I sent you with a very long Tighnari thought and my sadness upon realizing you didn't get to read it is immeasurable so I'm gonna try to redo it as best I can ^>^" . . . cont. below !!

"So the original thought was a sort of rework of a draft I've had for fucking ages and flipped around, where (the concept is courtesy of my bff must give the bestie credit) after getting in a fight/argument, what if you/the other person stripped naked and knelt at their/your feet to beg for forgiveness? And I'm a proud Tighnari simp, so... this happened.

"Okokokok in MY mind, it'd be not even like a real argument yk? It's not something that's genuinely upsetting that you need to talk about and work through together later, this is more like. A Couple's Spat if you will. Lover's Quarrel type bullshit (no clue if I'm using those correctly but fuck it we ball). It's enough you're both a little frustrated without being something that needs a sit-down conversation that a sexual intervention would mess up by happening. So maybe Tighnari stomped off to do some report thing and cool himself down but here's the thing:

"Tighnari doesn't like you both being mad at each other and despite his undeniable stubbornness, he'll be the one to do something to fix it if he has to. And maybe he's a little horny bc sometimes people (you) can be kinda hot when they're mad but that's Neither Here Nor There- so he grits his teeth and swallows his pride, shuffles back into the other room, tail quite literally between his legs, and sees you like. Working on something. Watching TV. IDK man it's imagination time let it run wild but he says something and you hum, but don't look at him, so he says your name again and you look, but only a glance before you're right back to what you're doing. I imagine, as a sub, Tighnari really prefers if you're fully in control, taking the reigns, making him brainless- because when he has a brain, it's a damn good one (the fuckin smartass) so he overthinks and ruins it for himself and he hates it. So when he's in this position, having to actively show submission, his brain is NOT happy. So I imagine he'd have zero decorum, like one really heavy breath out through the nose before he takes off his shirt and chucks it at you- and, yknow, archer, so his aim is gnarly even with improvised projectiles so it smacks you right in the face but like, it worked didn't it?? It got your attention yeah??? Because now you get to watch your pretty fox kick his pants off to the side and flop down next to where you're sitting, lean his forehead on your thigh, and mumble something you can't hear but assume is an apology from the way his ears are drooping.

"So I'm- I- listen I'm a whore this is not new info but do you know just how annoying it would be for Tighnari, how much he likes being petted? Do you know how easy it would be to tease him?? By petting him gently, smoothing his hair back out of his face, gently scratching his scalp with your nails- he'd turn so red I know it and i am frothing at the mouth because of it. anyways

"I am now at a really unfortunate crossroads because ideally here you'd get to suck him off (we will NOT talk about the straight up cock worship that was included in the draft i have that is not posted for a reason and the reason is I'm a slut but i'm a nervous one) but there's also something to be said for him sucking you off, which would be the sort of yknow, logical course of action here considering he's already on his knees and you could get off while watching him practically soak the floor beneath him as he tries his damn best to suck your very soul out. So I will let you decide since I can't :D Hope you enjoyed it Rosey I am going to strangle tumblr with my bare hands (i was gonna say thighs but. anyone would enjoy that too much) (Im sorry)

"K BYE ILYSM MWAH" - @aureramphibian (two separate inboxes 'cos tumblr did not, in fact, eat his original post)

"hope u enjoyed, rosey !" rosey just came in his pants. this was so so hot. I LOVE U MORE !!! i'm so sorry it took so long for me to reply ,, but i absolutely adore these thoughts. why don't u post more of them on ur account ರ⁠_⁠ರ ur such a talented writer !!

i love how the first thought is like ,, tighnari ignoring reader; and the second turns the tables. but both can absolutely end in cock worship . . but in another way.

like, imagining your pretty fox all huffy n' red-faced in his annoyance—and it turns quickly to that flush of arousal, you nosing at his groin . . . teasing around his cock, fingertips brushing his pale skin turned to teasing your fingers through that thick thatch of neatly groomed hair . . . he's well-kept, and i am practically salivating rn at the thought of nosing around his cute lil' cock . . .

while i may be calling it "lil'," i just know 'nari has a nice fuckin' cock—thick and long, cutely curved. it's the perfect weight for your tongue. holyyy hell, and finally nudging that thick weight in your mouth . . no, no, i'm getting ahead of myself.

first—well, technically second, third, or even fourth, considering how you'd absolutely need to tease at his skin and hair beforehand—teasing his cock with your fingers, too; dragging your fingers from the neat hair at the base of it and following the vein (because he absolutely has such a prominent one) ,, your mind is simply so, so powerful. and after, you need to tease him with your lips !! kiss at the head of his cock—which will undoubtedly be leaking thick rivulets of precum by then—, wrap your lips around it and suckle, light, before drawing away entirely to instead kiss his navel . . hhhhhhhhggg he has such a cute fucking cock.

and then once the apologies start flowing—from either you or him, depending—and the sweet begs and pleas begin floating around you, that's when you can finally quit the pretenses and truly suck tighnari down. sloppy blowjob, cock worshipping . . godddd. his cock'd be so, so heavy on your tongue, heady as you suck at it and hollow your cheeks. it'd be hard not to gag, but you'd be well-used to his cock by now, wouldn't you? be able to suck him down to the hilt, throat sweetly massing his glans? fuck.

he'd cry out all these mindless babbles, too—these sweet, "please, please !" and "'m sorry, please, more, more—" all the way to, "i love u, i love u so much . . " i'll applaud you if you manage to do all this without cumming untouched in your own pants—'cos i certainly wouldn't be able to, faced with such a pretty sight. and imagining the way his tail would either wag or wrap around you, the fur of it tickling the arms you hold him with so tightly. i simply wanna see 'nari lose control of everything.

on the flip side, then, you've got tighnari worshipping your cock. well. okay. i'm getting ahead of myself again, sorry; but 'nari, stripped naked and nuzzling into your thigh as he's kneeling in front of the sofa you're sat on, begging for your hands to just pet him because even if you're "fighting," he still needs your comfort (and you need to give it to him. a win-win, yeah?). then just ,, finally stroking his hair, his ears, thumbs digging into his temples to rub and massage at the headache you're sure is there . . he's so, so spoiled.

call him your "good boy," your "sweet fox," listening to him whine as he starts nuzzling at the growing tent in your pants. how can't you get a hard-on when you've got a blushy fox at your feet !! it's so sweet, the submission he gives to you even when he should be mad, when you should be at a crossroads ,, even then, he still trusts you so, so much.

"go on then, 'nari." you'd need to goad him on, unzip your own pants and tug your cock out from your briefs yourself. he needs to know he has permission, for this. "wanna cockwarm me? wanna have my cum, my sweet lil' fox?" with your mouth free like this, at least, you can dirty talk him to your dirty heart's desire as he drools and slobbers across the throbbing head of your cock.

he's got such a talented mouth, too—lips wrapped around your cock, stretched downright obscenely . . . it would be so, so fucking hot to see and feel his saliva start to drip down to your balls.

and, god, i feel like not enough people talk about this but imagine tighnari with a slightly rough tongue, too. it'd hardly be enough to pull at the skin of your cock, really; it only provides the most pleasurable friction across the bottom of your cock, licking at you leisurely as he warms you. he can easily lose track of time like this, lost to the weight of you heavy in his mouth.

times like these don't even necessarily need to end in orgasm, either. it's all about that intimacy<33

watch out, though: if all lover's spats end up like this, you may find yourself with an even snarkier bf !!!

29 APR. 2024, @rosedom, @aureramphibian .

#ㅤ✦【 INBOX 】#do i use these same physical hcs in my cy/nari thoughts? ye .#rough tongue and thick u know what . . hahaha #anywhoooo . .#dom reader #top reader #amab reader #sub genshin #genshin smut #genshin thirsts #genshin thirst #sub tighnari #tighnari smut #tighnari x reader #tighnari x you #thank u for ur patience aug <33 xx

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psychotic-nonsense · 1 day

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Steve Harrington doesn't expect today to be anything special.

His kid, Dustin, is out in the garage hanging out with his friend Lucas. It's a calm spring evening, and there isn't a single call coming from the phone asking for his services. The former handy man turned jack of all trades has a day off, and he's taking the chance to catch up on the fantasy book Dustin picked up for him on his last trip to the library.

He's older than he once thought he could be, he's alive, and he's happy.

He's mid sip of his sweet tea - recipe courtesy of the Byers family - when someone suddenly comes in through the front door. Mr. Harrington jumps, closes the book with a dog-eared page ("Terrible habits, sir, terrible terrible habits," says a voice from the past in his head). But then Dustin walks into view, and while he's not entirely calmed, he's less startled.

"Hey there, big guy," his starts calmly, but his mood quickly sombers when he gets a full look at his son. "Everything okay?"

Something's off. Dustin's coming in through the front door, not the back door that's easier to get to from the garage. Lucas isn't with him, and Mr. Harrington's old acoustic guitar is in his hands ("Be careful, love, you might end up as our backup," says the voice with a wink he can still see). But most importantly, Dustin looks nervous. Sad, even, and Mr. Harrington never lets that kind of face linger long in this household.

"Yeah, I'm okay, dad..." Dustin mumbles, pausing in the front hall, staring down at the guitar. His eyes look far away. "I was just wondering, um... you know that band group that I'm friends with?" Dustin looks up, directing all of that pain right at his father, stabbing at his heart.

"Yeah, your buddies on that forum, right?" Mr. Harrington says cautiously. He's leaning forward on his knees now, book discarded to a side table to give Dustin his full attention. "Were they telling you something? Is Lucas okay?"

"No, yeah, Lucas is fine, his mom called," Dustin quickly mutters, briefly distracting the nervous tension in his face with a shaking head. He takes a deep breath, releasing it in one big huff as he holds the guitar tighter. "So, you remember how I told you we were all helping each other? You know, learning how to write songs?"

"Yeah?" Mr. Harrington affirms, gently encouraging him to go on.

"Well, um..." Dustin looks away again, down at his feet shuffling in the carpet. "The- the lead singer of that band? Said he wanted some feedback on one, so uh..." His eyes glance at the guitar in his arms before meeting his father's eyes again.

Mr. Harrington huffs a small sigh of relief, a smile overtaking him. Nothing's wrong, it's just Dustin wanting to share a song with his dad, and he's nervous. Mr. Harrington has nothing to worry about ("A one man crowd? Gotta make this really memorable then," says the voice, teasing words but a soft, scared, nervous tone). "Yeah yeah, of course, kid, I'd be honored."

But then why is Dustin still so tense when he nods? Why are his eyes still so sad when he sits on the couch opposite Mr. Harrington, while he tunes the guitar? Why does he keep looking at the empty space beside him, growing more anxious each time?

"Take your time buddy, it's okay," Mr. Harrington tries to reassure, but Dustin doesn't look up.

Instead he sits there, breathing deeply a few times. Looks over at the other end of the couch, blinks a few times before nodding to himself, turning back. His left hand runs over the frets a few times, other hand coming up to rub at his eyes-

Oh god, he's crying. And his dad is just sitting there, helpless and useless. Mr. Harrington's heart is impaled once again and he reaches up, wanting to try and fix this, to help.

But then Dustin's hands are settling on the guitar, determination joining the mix of sadness and anxiety, and Mr. Harrington is forced to sit back and watch.

Because Dustin starts playing.

He's heard the music from outside the garage walls. He's bought plenty of guitars for Dustin to play over the years, heard many types of genres coming from under the secrecy of that roof. It's Dustin's thing, his hidden passion outside of science and fantasy, so Mr. Harrington has let him have the privacy, keeping his pride tamed for his son's sake.

So to finally see Dustin playing is like pride tenfold, longing grasping his heart tight when he sees how Dustin leans into the music ("We're the few good ones left, dear... We just feel it differently from others, you know?" bemoans the voice in his head). How his eyes close, the tension in his body loosening as music echoes from the guitar's.

And it's a beautiful melody. Simple, like all good things are, but melancholic. Longing incarnate. Nothing he was expecting from this, but he never wants it to end. It feels like lost love, regrets...

But then the singing starts.

"First things first

We start the scene in reverse

All of the lines rehearsed

Disappear from my mind"

Faint and echoing. Barely audible at first, but steadily growing in sound as Dustin plays. Ethereal, Mr. Harrington remembers from the book. That describes it.

It's not Dustin, he's too focused on the guitar. And his voice cracks on words this quiet, his tone off no matter what genre he's singing along to. Gets it from his dad.

It's almost familiar. Sounds like home.

"When things got loud

One of us running out

I should have turned around

But I had too much pride"

Suddenly, something shifts in the air. It feels cold, like soft wind in a breath, then going tingly. The light pattering of winter's first snow.

There's a window behind Dustin, the evening light shining through the blinds and curtains lighting everything in a warm glow. If he wasn't watching Dustin, he wouldn't have seen it. The beams being cast on the couch beside Dustin are slightly bright... and are swiftly getting brighter.

"No time for goodbyes

Didn't get to apologize

Pieces of a clock that lies broken"

Before his eyes, the sunlight starts moving, swirling and disconnecting into little beads of light. It shifts colors, a gradient of orange and reds, purple and blue, a hazy cloud slowly materializing on the couch.

It's shaping into something, moving into specific sections to the music and words. Changing color all the while, blacks and reds appearing deeper, a figure coming through the shape. The voice keeps getting louder, screaming familiarity at Mr. Harrington-

Then in a flash, it solidifies, and everything else fades away. No room, no weather, no sense.

Just music and singing and... and him.

"If I could take us back

If I could just do that

I'd write in every empty space

The words 'I love you' in replace

And every time would not erase me"

He's sitting on the couch next to Dustin, almost laying down. Leaning back against the arm rest, knees bunched up on the cushion but shoes hanging off the side. His clothes look aged compared to nowadays, but it's the same flannel and black ripped jeans and chains as the faithful day they lost each other.

Oh god, his voice has the same gorgeous vibrato, words flowing from his lips like poetry. His hair has the same soft curly bounce, product keeping it infinitely safe. His face, his hands, his presence remains unchanged.

He's not looking up, doesn't have to for those deep amber doe eyes to be so visible. He's messing with his rings while he sings, watching the silver glint in the light that created him. Doesn't hide how sad, how longing and lonely he looks and sounds here in this place.

A hand is coming up to Mr. Harrington's chest, tears blotting his vision and he's not ashamed of blinking them into reality, can't let himself look away from this.

It's him, it's him, dear god, the man he thought he lost over 30 years ago, the man he thought left behind their love by choice while he had never let it go, who's voice and presence never left his mind, who he thought would come back but never did and couldn't have, he's ghostly and gone, he's gone but it's him, his love, Steve's love, finally here after so long...

"If you could only know

I never let you go

And the words I most regret

Are the ones I never meant to leave..."

His voice starts cracking, that sweet pretty voice breaking. His face crumbles, hands trembling and it breaks Steve in two and he wants to reach out and help, he wants but he can't-

Then he finally looks up. Their eyes meet and there's relief and longing and pain and sorrow in both of their eyes because they're seeing each other, finally finally finally, after so long...

"Unsaid Emily..."

Sung in a whisper to the strumming of his son.

Munson.

Eddie Munson.

Steve's sweet, dear Eddie Munson.

He came back...

He finally came home...

#Julie and the Phantoms Steddie AU anybody? :'D #was thinking about this song again n figured i should make it a full thing #gotta rewatch the show to get the lore right but anyway #steve is dustin's dad in the 20-somethings i dunno when exactly yet #corroded coffin is the ghost band that dustin can see #their unfinished business is eddie's who was dating steve in the 80-90s before they had a fight and eddie left the same night the band died #and cc sticks together even in their lead guitarist's relationship drama #would keep going but later #steve x eddie #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie #dustin henderson #lil cameo from #lucas sinclair #julie and the phantoms #sorry jatp fans a steddie infiltrated your place

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dr-spectre · 2 days

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Splatoon 2 Callie Explained - (In my interpretation)

So in this blog post I wanna go over what is going on with Callie in Splatoon 2 because there's a lot of misinformation being spread around due to how unclear the events of Splatoon 2 were. I'm going to provide my own thoughts into how the Hypnoshades actually affect Callie and clear up what hypnosis actually does to a person, because a lot of people think that Callie was kidnapped and then mind controlled but its actually a lot more complicated than that. I've done a ton of painstaking research into this so if you would like some sources to what I'm saying then I'll be happy to provide it in the comments below when asked!

Okay so first off we need to establish one thing right off the bat, no, Callie was not kidnapped in the sense that she was snatched up by DJ Octavio and then brainwashed while she was kicking and screaming trying to stop him. The idea that Callie was snatched up randomly is simply not to true due to the fact that the OFFICAL Splatoon 2 relationship chart states that Callie was willing to hear out DJ Octavio and go with him. Why? Because if you look at Sunken Scroll 21 and 22 in Splatoon 2, it gives insight into Callie's declining mental health as she struggles to put on a happy face as she walks through a huge crowd of people, as well as the fact that she drew a squid with a sad face on it in Sunken Scroll 22 which is a very clear giveaway that she isn't doing well. Also keep in mind Marie was busy with her own solo thing too and Callie even states in the relationship chart that she's busy and lonely. It also explains why Callie doesn't experience any sort of trauma, turmoil or resentment after Splatoon 2 because well, she wasn't kidnapped and the shades were not forcibly put on her. (Also in Squid Sister Stories chapter 7 there's an artwork piece of Callie walking towards DJ Octavio's star mark so there's that too....)

Now I want to get into how hypnosis actually affects a person and what being hypnotized is actually like. Being hypnotized is described as having "heightened attention, increased focus and heightened suggestibility." You do not get put to sleep and become a puppet as popular media shows it to be, but instead you are hyper aware of what is going on around you. It's also said to be highly relaxing and can help with patients who struggle with anxiety and other mental issues, which might explain why Callie kept putting the shades back on, she enjoys wearing them to some degree as it helps her deal with the pain of being a celebrity, kind of like an addiction but unfortunately Splatoon 2 doesn't explore it at all and Marie (CALLIE'S OWN GOD DAMN COUSIN BTW!) jokes about it..... ugh...... at least she overcomes that addiction OFF SCREEN unfortunately....

Now that part about "suggestibility" is important to consider because contrary to popular belief, you don't lose awareness and memories while you are hypnotized and the person who is in charge of hypnotizing you, CANNOT force you to do anything that's against your wishes and you do NOT lose control of your behavior. Meaning that on some level Callie actually wanted to side with the Octarians because her life beforehand was shitty. The shades do not control Callie but instead put her in a hypnotic state that relaxes her and increases her attention and suggestibility.

For example, if DJ Octavio were to tell Callie to kill Marie instead of Agent 4, she would probably have a ton of hesitation about it and probably not follow his orders. Callie doesn't want to kill Marie, but she doesn't care or know about Agent 4 and that's why she had no problems with following DJ Octavio's suggestions. She also didn't try to attack Marie during the final boss when she was flying around and she just wants Marie to leave her alone because guess what, she's suffering from mental health issues!!!!!! And her relationship with Marie got worse and worse overtime as shown with the Squid Sister Stories.

If you were hypnotized and then the person responsible of your hypnotism handed you a weapon and told you to kill your best friend, you wouldn't do it because it's against your wishes (unless you secretly wanna kill your best friend for some reason....)

With all of this information laid out, it actually does make Splatoon 2's admittedly mid story a bit more interesting, it shows that Callie does have these dark traits and flaws about her, and the Hypnoshades bring out the worst in her. The angry, power hungry and harsh side to her, that was even built up from Splatoon 1. If you look at the dialogue from the Naughty vs. Nice, Early Bird vs. Night Owl and Callie vs. Marie Splatfests, you can see that Callie actually got upset at Marie multiple times due to her attitude.

It really does make Tidal Rush more emotional and powerful as a song if you really think about it. It's a clashing of two cousins whose relationship has been broken apart and Marie is desperately trying to reach out to Callie and fix what she has done. Maybe Marie blames herself for why Callie ran away and that's why she sounds like she's on the brink of tears in the song.... And it makes Spicey Calamari Inkantation more triumphant as a song too.

It does make me a bit angry that Nintendo doesn't wanna dive into these topics as well as Callie. She is flawed and has dark traits about her but, she doesn't try to change or grow from them in any significant or well written way, its like they forgot about it in Splatoon 3 which.... sucks man. I'm hoping we get a Side Order type deal with the Squid Sisters for Splatoon 4 and we dive deeper into the psyches of these girls, because what we have is really interesting but it lacks explanation and nuance and everyone keeps boiling it down to "welp Callie got kidnapped and mind controlled!" Which... its more complex than that... With Agent 3 and Marina it's for sure mind control and i would like to talk about them in a future blog but, with Callie? It's different and there's a lot of layers a lot of people tend to ignore because Splatoon 2's story is just... meh.

#splatoon #splatoon 2 #callie cuttlefish #callie splatoon #hypno callie #octo callie #marie splatoon #marie cuttlefish #dj octavio #essay #writing

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apalapucian · 4 hours

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"good summer, so far?" asks james.

"it's okay, considering," lily answers honestly. "you?"

"'s'alright. considering what?"

"the state of things in general. more attacks, the protests, purists on the wizengamot..."

he slams a jar back on the shelf, startling her. "oh — sorry... yeah, that's — yeah. it really sucks. it's been infuriating. and i bet it's even — i can't even begin to imagine what it's like for you. i'm sorry."

"ah, i'm alright, more or less. personally faring okay. just, you know, reading the papers has been... terrible."

"god. anything i can do at all?"

"make me a pureblood?"

"that's sad as fuck, evans."

she chuckles. "yeah, no. i didn't really mean that."

"i mean, i can make you a potter, but a pureblood, no."

"you can make me a potter?"

"i — " there's a brief moment where he just looks at her and presumably debates on whether or not to backtrack. because of course lily knows what it meant. of course she knows the implication; she just can't believe he'd be so upfront with it. she remembers christmas — i want to be your friend, if that's okay, his dreamy smile in the firelight — and expects him to wave the whole potter thing off as a joke now, turn it into some clever wordplay, but — "well, yeah," he just plows on, decidedly matter-of-fact. "if we get married, you can become one."

she was going to fluster him. but he beat her to it and now she doesn't quite know what to say. she settles for okay, noted, a breathy rush of words, scratchy thing lodged in her throat. she looks away, pretends to check the price tag of the nearest jar. hundreds of frog eyes stare back at her.

james is quiet. when she steals a glance at him, he's biting his bottom lip, clearly trying to supress a smile.

"shut up," she says, breaking into a chuckle herself.

he laughs. "you turned so red," he says. "i'm so sorry."

"because who says that," she retorts. "who the fuck asks someone to marry them in an apothecary. at their place of work. like that."

"evans, i didn't ask you to marry me — "

"well good because that was such a lousyass proposal — "

"i'm insulted that you'd even think that's how i would propose — "

"how would you propose then?"

this seems to stump him, and lily thinks, hey, here's her moment of victory, this pause, a natural turn of the conversation wherein she finally has the upper hand. her turn to make him blush now. except she feels suddenly just as floundered. also — how the hell did they get so close? she takes a step back, having more room behind her, the flecks of light in his glasses still branded in her vision. he sags in an exhale, grip tight on the jars in his hands.

"not like that," he says, still smiling (thank god). when she looks up at him again, safe distance away, his gaze is intent, a serious, earnest way about him. "i wouldn't propose to you like that."

— bad day wall pt. 2 (read on ao3)

#jily #jily*#jily fic #jily fanfic #jily fanfiction #jple #james potter #lily evans #marauders era #hello i am here to deliver sickening fluff #in which james tries his v best to NOT be in love and lily just falls in love with zero effort (and knowledge)#apalapucian*#bad day wall

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about-faces · 1 day

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I'm still loving Gotham Nocturne and I wish it was getting the love/respect/attention is deserves. I've spoken several people who haven't been reading the current Detective Comics run because they're Batmanned Out (good lord, do I get it) and they see it as just another attempt at some kind of "ultimate Batman story with Batman fighting the ultimate evil," which I strongly disagree with.

THAT SAID... as time has gone on, and the story seems to be reaching its finale, there are a few things that stand out of me as problems with this epic storyline.

1.) It's one of the most egregious examples of "writing for the trade paperback." This simply isn't a story that's meant to be read month-to-month. It's too slow, with too little "happening," at least on the superficial level. Paradoxically, it's NOT a story that should be binged! The best comparison that comes to mind is Better Call Saul, since that's the only other example of serialized media that's meticulously slow-paced yet INCREDIBLY RICH for those willing to engage with it on its level rather than expecting it to be Breaking Bad (or in Nocturne's case, a typical Batman story.) Ram V is capable of writing super-engaging monthly issues, as the fantastic Rare Flavours proves, but that brings us to...

2.) The story is sprawling. Maybe even TOO sprawling. When it comes to people who are sick of Batman, I try to sell them on the fact that this story is about GOTHAM AS A WHOLE, right down to the villains who call it home, and how everyone there is as intrinsically a part of Gotham as Batman is. But ensemble stories like that are tricky, and it makes the focus feel all over the place at times, with alternately too much and too little attention being paid to the main players, Batman included. It's a balance that was handled beautifully with Batman: The Audio Adventures, but it seems a bit more awkward here. Again, it's hard to pull off!

Like, we have characters pop up and then vanishing without explanation. We got Azrael back in the AzBats armor for the first time in decades, like, holy shit! That should be a HUGE development! And then, poof, he vanished! There's simply no time to explore Jean-Paul's character because there's so many other things the narrative needs to explore.

This feels like it would have really benefited from a companion series, something to focus on the characters the way the backup stories have done, but just more so. I think about how Peter Tomasi would write companion books to the main big storylines written by Geoff Johns, Grant Morrison, and Scott Snyder, and how he'd focus on character, which always enriched the greater "big important storyline." Which, in turn, also brings me to...

3.) The backup stories have really lost a lot of their punch since they stopped being written by Si Spurrier and were taken over by Dan Watters. Watters is incredibly capable, make no mistake, and his Cheshire/Lian Harper story is one of my favorite parts of this entire saga. But by and large, his tales focus more on the spooky and weird sides of what's happening with Nocturne, whereas Spurrier's stories were more focused on characters navigating the weirdness of the events. As a result, Spurrier gave us what I consider to be some of the very best stories about Jim Gordon, Harvey Dent, and Victor Fries ever written. I really miss those, and how they enriched Ram V's (possibly overly-ambitious) narrative.

Ultimately, Gotham Nocturne feels like the Batman equivalent to an arthouse film, which means it's going to be appreciated by a handful of nerds while leaving most other fans cold, and I can't really blame them. If anything makes me sad about all this, it's how all this incredible character work with Bruce, Harvey, Victor, Talia, and others is going to be ignored. Hell, it already is, given the complete lack of acknowledgement we've seen in other Bat-books for what's going on in Nocturne.

At this point, I just hope it sticks the landing in the finale, because I want to be able to have a complete, satisfying epic to recommend to people who want something a bit richer than the typical "guy in Bat costume punches clown" stories we usually get.

#gotham nocturne #detective comics #batman #dc comics #ram v

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moonspirit · 3 days

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Do you think annie have some like jealousy issues? Like idk

Do I *think* Annie has jealousy issues?!

Boi, anon.

I've got some news for you.

(I'm gonna assume you're an AruAni shipper since... Since *I* am, and you chose to ask me I guess?)

I made a few posts about this last year but I can't find them now so I'll reblog them later maybe, if you want, but see, the thing is, both Armin and Annie are jealous people.

It's just that this jealousy doesn't show up in the ways we're most often exposed to in media. You're not likely to find Annie making big accusations, pointing fingers, or gritting her teeth with a snarled "back off bitch". Nope.

Annie's jealousy (like Armin's) stems from a place of insecurity over her own image and self worth. Given her closed off childhood and dehumanisation by way of Warrior life and the titan power, she has known nothing of what love really is. Moreover she doesn't consider herself worth any of it; this is evident from how she doesn't believe Armin at first on the boat when he confesses his feelings.

Annie hasn't lived anything of what a normal, ordinary girl's life would've been like. So imagine then, that she sees a potential... Let's say, "competitor"? vying for Armin's attention and this new person is so different from her - all smiles, outgoing, easy to talk to, open heart. What do you think is going through her head then? "Oh this person is better than me... Ofc, why would Armin want to be with me after something like that? I'm incredibly boring, I don't smile, I don't open up; surely, he's better off with someone more cheerful like that." -> thus resulting in a mixture of sadness and jealousy.

At the same time, she's dependent on Armin's love for her now. She's actively seeking it out, verbally or otherwise, finding great comfort and solace in his acts of caring and affection. It's not going to be easy for her to just "let go" and maybe "walk away" the way she's probably telling herself to.

Putting both together, we can simply say that her jealousy is going to be expressed in a very quiet, withdrawn manner, with Armin unlikely to even know of it unless he notices a change in her behaviour and coaxes it out of her. Cue; plenty of cuddling, kisses, reassurances and teasing (from him, because she's adorable in jealousy).

That's all on jealousy. On a related note, Annie being possessive? That's a whole other issue!

#anon ask #aruani #annie leonhart #attack on titan #headcanon #annie leonhardt #aot #snk #aruannie

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queenshelby · 4 hours

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An Illicit Affair

Part 34: Unable to cope

Pairing: Cillian Murphy (46) x Reader (23)

Warning: Age-Gap, Taboo Relationship, Infidelity

Three weeks later

It was Monday, again, and you woke up to the soft light of dawn. The room was quiet and, just like every other morning, your breakfast was already waiting for you on the bedside table.

Your mother was downstairs, cleaning the kitchen and, every now and then, you could hear the faint sound of her humming to herself as she worked.

You sighed, stretching your muscles as you took in your surroundings before attempting to sit up in order to make your way to the bathroom.

Your wheelchair was waiting for you, right next to the bed. You had started to use it two weeks ago, immediately after you had been discharged from Liverpool Hospital and, whilst you were given crutches as well, using them was still too painful for you.

"Fuck," you muttered as you carefully maneuvered your body into the chair, trying to avoid hitting any of your stitches, but your emotions got the better of you once again.

You couldn't help but feel frustrated at the limitations your injury had placed on you, at the grueling physical therapy that left you in a constant state of pain and exhaustion. At the fact that you missed out on your career, your dreams and aspirations to become a doctor for now, your life being put on hold.

You took a deep breath, closing your eyes as you tried to compose yourself, to push through the despair that threatened to overwhelm you. But it was no use. The tears came anyway, rolling down your cheeks in quiet, steady streams.

Your body shook with the force of your sobs, but you didn't try to stifle the sound. You let yourself cry, letting out all of the emotions that had been building up inside of you for the past few weeks. It was a release, a moment of raw vulnerability that left you feeling both exhausted and strangely relieved.

"Sweetheart, hang on," your mother said, hearing the sound of your cries from downstairs and rushing up to see you. "What's going on?"

You shook your head, wiping away the tears with the back of your hand. "Nothing. I just...I am fucking sick of this. I don't want to do this anymore," you admitted, your voice trembling as you tried to keep yourself together.

Your mother nodded, a sad expression crossing her features as she took a seat next to you on the bed. "I know it's hard, sweetheart, but you need to be patient," she told you before helping you to the bathroom.

"You have therapy at noon, and you'll feel much better after a shower. Now come on," she reassured you, her voice soothing as she helped you on to the toilet which, in itself, was embarrassing enough for you to dread visiting the bathroom.

You sighed, nodding as you looked down at your hands, still trembling slightly from the force of your emotions.

"I hate this," you muttered quietly, not expecting your mother to hear you, but she did.

"I know you do, sweetheart, but it's going to get better," she reassured you, her voice steady and confident as, after you were done, she helped you into the shower where a small white chair awaited you.

"I am not going to therapy today," you told her, not wanting to endure it anymore.

She raised an eyebrow, but didn't say anything further, knowing that you needed time to process everything that had happened over the past few weeks.

"Let me help you wash up first and get you dressed, then we can talk about it," she said, carefully soaping your body while trying to avoid touching any of your wounds.

"There is no need to talk about it mum. I am not going. I mean, what even is the point, huh?" you growled while looking at the large scar covering your abdomen . "Why did this have to happen to me? I had it all and now, I'm left with this."

Your mother sighed heavily, her gaze briefly flicking down to your belly before meeting your eyes once more. "Y/N, you can still have a good life. There are so many people out there who love and care about you. And yes, it might seem like everything is falling apart right now, but trust me, you will get through this."

You shook your head, your emotions threatening to boil over as you fought the urge to break down in tears again.

You knew that your mother was right, that there were still people who loved and cared about you, but it didn't make the pain of losing your dreams any less acute.

"I know that there are people out there who still care about me, mum. I do. But I also can't deny the fact that I feel like a completely different person now," you whispered softly, the weight of your words heavy on your chest as you tried to put into words the turmoil of emotions that had been plaguing you since the accident.

"You know Cillian called for you yesterday, to see if you were alright," she told you, her voice gentle as she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and hope in her eyes.

You nodded, swallowing hard as you tried to keep yourself from breaking down in tears once more.

"Are you going to call him back?" your mother asked carefully as she wrapped a fluffy white towel around your shoulders.

You sighed, leaning against her for support as you tried to gather your thoughts. The mention of Cillian's name brought back a flood of emotions that you had been trying to suppress for the past few weeks. The memories of his touch, his voice, and the way he looked at you - all threatening to overwhelm you with a longing that you weren't sure you were ready to face.

"I don't know," you finally replied, your voice barely more than a whisper as you looked away, unable to meet your mother's gaze and the truth was that, ever since you left the hospital in London, you were ignoring his calls and messages. "He should move on and find someone who isn't broken," you added, the weight of your words heavy in the air between you as you thought about the many interviews and media engagements on TV lately where he did well to pretend that everything was fine. He was promoting his new movie Oppenheimer again just before the upcoming Award Season and Oscars in three months, for which you now knew he received a nomination.

"Y/N, that is not true. You are not broken," your mother said, and whilst she did not approve of your relationship with Cillian, she couldn't help but feel a pang of worry for you as she saw the pain that lingered in your eyes.

"Then fucking look at me! Look at me, mum!" you demanded, your frustration and anger boiling over as you gestured towards your scarred body with a trembling hand. Tears were streaming down your face as you looked up at your mother, pleading with her to understand the depth of your pain and confusion. You knew that you sounded harsh and unkind, but you couldn't help it. It felt like everything was spiraling out of control, and you couldn't find a way to make sense of it all.

Your mother did just that - she looked at you with a mixture of sadness and understanding while she helped you to get dressed.

"I see you, Y/N. I see the pain and the struggle that you are going through, but I also see the strength and resilience that lies within you. You have always been a fighter and I have no doubt that you will overcome this," she said, her voice filled with warmth and encouragement as you let yourself fall back into the wheelchair before searching for some valium. You needed to calm yourself down, to take the edge off of the overwhelming emotions that had taken hold of you.

"Thank you, mum," you whispered softly, taking a deep breath as you tried to push down the anxiety and despair that had settled over you like a shroud.

Your mother nodded, her eyes full of understanding as she leaned down to press a soft kiss to your forehead.

"I'm going to start making lunch now. Do you want anything in particular?" she asked, her voice gentle as she looked down at you with a mixture of love and concern.

"I am not hungry mum. I haven't even eaten my breakfast yet. I will just go back to bed, okay?" you told your mother, feeling utterly dejected. Your voice was small and barely above a whisper, but she heard you clearly.

"You need to eat something, sweetheart. And you need to go to your therapy sessions and treatment sessions. I cannot keep cancelling them for you," your mother said, her tone firm and unyielding, but you shook your head at her suggestions and demands. "I do not want to go, mum. I am so fucking tired," you replied, your voice heavy with exhaustion and sadness. Your throat felt raw and sore from the force of your earlier sobs, but you refused to let your mother see you break down again. You couldn't bear the thought of her seeing you like that, it felt too vulnerable, too exposing.

You wheeled yourself away from her, back towards the bed and your mother simply sighed before, finally, giving up and heading back downstairs to call your father. She knew you needed space, that the past few weeks had taken a toll on you, but it didn't make her any less worried.

***

"I don't know what to do with her," she told him later that day after he got home, her voice filled with a mixture of concern and frustration as she looked out at the rain beyond the window.

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking to where you were lying on the couch, your eyes glued to the TV as your fingers traced absentmindedly over the scar on your belly.

"She's been through a lot, love. Give it time," he said gently, but your mother shook her head.

"I know she's been through a lot, but this isn't like her," your mother explained. "She refuses to see the physiotherapist, she refuses to see the psychologist and she is taking too much valium," she continued, her voice tinged with a mix of worry and grief.

Your father nodded, a frown etching itself onto his face as he watched you from where he stood, your eyes glued to the TV , lost in some drama you've probably watched a million times.

"Have you tried to confront her about it?" he asked, trying to reason with your mother and, of course, she nodded. "Yes, I have. But she just shuts down and tells me to mind my own business. She has been isolating herself from us and from the rest of the world. She hasn't even had contact with..." your mother began to say, wiping away a rogue tear that had escaped her eye, just as your father interrupted her.

"Don't you dare say his name in my house," he snapped, his eyes flashing with anger as he looked towards your mother. She recoiled at the intensity of his gaze before she continued. "If it wasn't for this man, she wouldn't be in this situation!" your father growled, his voice low and dangerous as he glared at your mother. "She needs time to heal and figure things out on her own. She doesn't need him complicating matters further," he added before pacing back and forth in front of the fireplace, his anger palpable in every line of his body.

Your mother sighed, shaking her head as she looked at him with a mixture of sadness and resignation. "I know, but I actually think that she could benefit from his presence at the moment. He called last night, and it sounded like he's really worried about her, and I am worried too," your mother reasoned, her voice soft and understanding as she looked at your father with a mixture of pleading and hope in her eyes.

Your father sighed, running a hand through his hair as he tried to calm himself down. He knew that your mother was right - Cillian's presence could be just the thing that you needed. But something in him rebelled at the thought of it.

He had always been the overprotective father, and the thought of his little girl getting tangled up in a rather messy relationship with a man who was even older than him, made his gut twist in a way he couldn't quite explain.

"Fine," he finally conceded, nodding his head in agreement before looking at your mother. "Call him and ask him to come up to Liverpool for a week. Maybe he can get through to her and make her take her treatments seriously," he told your mother, his jaw set firmly in determination as he looked at her. "But there is no fucking way this man is staying here over night. He needs to organize himself some accommodation in town," your father added, his voice firm and unwavering.

"We do have a guestroom, you know," your mother countered, her eyebrows raised in a challenge. "It would be good for him to be here when she has a breakdown again. Maybe it will help," your mother replied gently, knowing that she was pushing the limits of her husband's patience. She had seen the way Cillian looked at you in hospital, and she knew that he cared for you deeply.

Your father sighed, his gaze flicking towards the couch where you were still lying in silence.

"Fine," he relented, his voice filled with a mixture of reluctance and resignation. "He can stay in the guestroom," he confirmed and your mother nodded, relief flooding her features as she moved towards your father and wrapped her arms around his waist. "Thank you. I know it's not ideal, and that it goes against every protective instinct you have as a father and a man of faith, but I truly believe this is what she needs right now," your mother told him before, without your knowledge, making the call.

Tags:

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@heidimoreton @nela-cutie @futurecorps3 @delishen @nosebleeds-247 @thirteenis-myluckynumber @gills-lounge @hjmalmed @lost-fantasy @tiredkitten @sidechrisporn @smallsoulunknown @charqing-qing @hopefulinlove @aporiasposts @shycrybaby @me-and-your-husband @hjmalmed @lacontroller1991 @galxydefender @aporiasposts

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#cillian murphy x y/n #cillian murphy x you #cillian murphy imagine #cillian murphy x reader #cillian murphy smut #cillian murphy

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vulpixisananimal · 10 hours

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Pains and Patience

TW for self harm/dagger under the cut.

(You are sitting in a chair in the main room of the place you and your family were staying. Bonnie and Nille are around. You asked them to leave you alone for a bit. You can hear them talking in the distance. Your eyes are closed.)

(What does it look like?)

(One breath, two, three, and you're there. This blurry place that feels like a dream yet to be fully formed. Stretching above you so impossibly high was the favor tree. Around you it was pitch black, with stars dotting the skies.)

(It came to your mind naturally. It was... Strange, not a daydream, it was just... There. A place in your own mind that felt so... Real.)

(It's still growing.)

(It is. You turn around and that other part of you is there. Mal Du Pays. It fit here better than you did, it seems.)

(You still can't see the rest of it, can you.)

(No, I can't. You say. It's still the favor tree, just the tree. Where's loop?)

(Hiding, I expect.)

(You're very helpful.)

(I'm trying to keep you alive.)

(You shake your head, that's what it always said. Keep you alive. It was hard to believe when you'd come back to front to find you did something bad that you don't remember.)

(You look out to the stars. This place still felt off, like it was missing pieces. Every time you tried stepping beyond the tree you'd freeze up. Gripped by a fear you had never felt before, was fear even the right word?)

(You'll figure it out.)

(Right. We'll figure it out. We're getting a rest now after all. We'll figure out what's going on with Ramos, figure out why we're still Looping, THEN we'll deal with this disassociating, thing, whatever Odile called it.)

(Odile is not exactly a psychiatrist.)

(She's better than guessing.)

(I will not talk to her. You will not make me talk to her.)

(... Fine, for now, but eventually-)

"'Heyfrin!"

(Your snap to attention, back in reality, Bonnie was leaning in from the doorway. They looked a bit worried.)

"Hey Bonbon."

"Ramos showed up, Nille's distracting them right now."

(Huh?? You stood up.) "Here? Did they do anything?"

(Bonnie shook their head.) "Nuh uh, said they were looking for 'Beau and thought to stop by."

(You breath a sigh of relief.) "Alright, just act like you don't know anything, alright?"

"Duh, I know how to keep a secret."

(Walking to the front room area, Ramos was there talking to Nille. Casual conversation. They looked just as relaxed and cheery as the other loop. They didn't look like a kidnapper or anything, seeing you approach, they waved.)

(Do not get fooled by good acting.)

"Hello! You're Siffrin, right?"

(You waved back, smiling.) "That's me, Nille giving away my secrets again?"

"Your name's not exactly a secret, Siffy." (Nille said sarcasticly. Seemingly, she got the memo to act cool.) "Sorry Isabeau isn't in right now."

"That's fine." (Ramos said cheerily.) "Mind if I stick around untill he does?"

"Sure!" (Nille cut you off before you could say no. Great. Fantastic.)

(Maybe you could learn something.)

(You all headed back to the common area, walking and talking. Ramos making a bad joke and ruffling Bonnies hair, much to their annoyance.)

"So how'd y'all meet Isa?" (Ramos asked.)

"Met 'em a few weeks ago after getting de-frozen from time. Showed up to my place saying lil Bonnie helped save the country."

"YEAH!!! We kicked the Kings CRABBING BUTT!!"

"Language."

(You all chuckle.)

"I met 'Beau running from the curse. Nille told me to run when showed up at Bambouche and I did untill I passed out."

"You must be one tough kid then." (Ramos was smiling.)

"And don't you forget it!!!"

"What about you, Siffrin?"

"Oh, well." (How did it go again...) "I bumped into Mirabelle, Isa, and Odile by chance, off to save Vaugarde and all. They were fighting a sadness and I helped out. Asked me to join after that."

"Woah." (Ramos looked pretty engrosed in the story.) "It must have been real strong, Isa isn't a pushover."

"Oh, well, it was kinda strong." (You shrug.) "Not strong enough though, since I took it out in one hit."

(Ramos beamed, they leaned over and grabbed your hand.) "No way!! That's awesome!! I wish I coulda seen it!"

(You wince, and Ramos releases your hand.) "O-oh, sorry."

"'Frin doesn't like being touched." (Said Bonnie.)

"Ha, it's alright Bonnie." (You replied.) "It just took me by surprise."

(Why was Ramos so.... Relaxed? It didn't make any sense. If it was Ramos who tried grabbing Bonnie, why'd they come to visit? Where you wrong about them?)

(It's acting. Siffrin.)

"How's Isa been anyways?"

"Stupid." (Says Bonnie.)

"A good stupid." (Nille continues.) "Real bumble of emotions from what I've seen."

"Mmhm!" (You nod along.) "He's great, sure saving the country was stresful, but, Isabeau's been there with us the whole way."

"I'm glad!" (Ramos leaned back in their chair.) "Did he mention me at all?"

(You smile, of course he did.) "All the time!"

"Really?"

"Yeah! We went through a lot together, aparently you helped him a bunch? I've honestly been itching to meet you!"

(Wrong.)

(What?)

(That is wrong. What are you doing.)

(Bonnie was giving you a look, what do you mean? Don't you remember?)

"That's, wow!" (Ramos rubbed their neck.) "I didn't, think he'd mention me at all."

"Haha, you left quite the impression."

(Stop talking. You aren't acting.)

"Well, I gotta ask, what was it like? Saving the world."

"It, well, to be honest it didn't go great, not at the end." (Stop.)

"'Frin?" (Bonnie was looking between you and Ramos. Confused.)

(You continue.) "It should have been impossible getting to the King, really."

"Oh?"

(Stop, Siffrin.)

"Well, I shouldn't really talk about this, but if Isa trusts you, then I'll trust you."

(Siffrin, that's enough, stop talking.)

"But, the truth is--"

(. . .)

(. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .)

(It feels like a migrane with no pain. A force of will. A wave of intense, snapping bones. It feels like your brain gets dunked in ice. It feels like a lot of things, all of them hard to explain.)

(But you had to stop Siffrin from talking.)

(You stare at the stranger who's name is Ramos. Whatever Ramos could do, that was it. Siffrin was about to talk about the loops, the wish, everything. All that to an enemy.)

"Siffrin?" (Ramos was staring at you.) "Are you alright?"

(What did you do, Ramos. What did you do to Siffrins little head. You had a cold anger in your soul. Ramos had hurt you. Who are you, Ramos. What are you. You stand up.)

"'Feeling alright, Siffy?" (Nille asks.)

(You open your mouth. You ask a quesion.)

(You see all three of them wince. Nille is conused, Bonnie is gripping their head, Ramos is looking at you, afraid.)

"S-siffrin?? I, uh, didn't quite catch that." (You could see Nille trying to comprehend what you asked.)

(You look at Ramos, they looked confused, and pained. Did they not understand? You say something else.)

"H-hey cut it out, it's giving me a headache."

(Ramos is looking back at you. You can see a fear in their eyes. What do you look like to them right now. Like a monster? Good. You speak again.)

"I, I-I can't understand, please!"

"'F-frin..."

(You open your mouth. You want to hurt them. You want to know what they did. You need to. If they don't understand you, fine then. You'll just keep asking them. As long as it-)

"'Hurts..."

"Siffrin?" (Ramos was staring at you.) "Are you alright?"

(. . .)

(You stand up wordlessly. They didn't know the language. They didn't recognize it. So they weren't from home. So how could they make a wish. Was it dumb luck? Not likely.)

(But, Bonnie...)

(. . . You leave to your room. You ignore them calling after you. It didn't matter anyway.)

(You're tired. You looped again. Yes, it was only a few moments back, though. You could feel the nausea starting to catch up to you, but you forced yourself to continue. You're in your room. You grab your hat. As much as you told Siffrin your skin was sensitive, they ignored you. Thats why you wear a hat, stupid.)

(You Move fast. You go to the window. The jump out isn't that bad. You get up on the windowsil, and jump out. You land solidly, and run for the library.)

(The sprint gave you a chance to think. Ramos did something to Siffrin, and now Siffrin thought Ramos was some friend. It made you sick. What did Ramos do? Touch you? They did touch your hand. Was that it?)

(Why was Bonnie bleeding. Why were they bleeding that shade?)

(You ignore that question, for now.)

(You're at the library. You run inside. There you see Odile, Isabeau, and Mirabelle all about to leave with a couple books. You sprint over.)

"Siffrin?!?" (Mirabelle spots you first.) "What are you doing here? Did something happen???"

(You don't, can't, respond. Instead you go to Odile, who was holding the books, and tapped one.)

". . . What?" (Odile looked confused.)

"Uhh... Are you wondering if we found something?" (Isabeau spoke up. You nod.)

"Ah, well yes we found something. But is everything alright, Siffrin?"

(That didn't matter right now. You shake your head, and tap the book impatiently.)

"Alright alright." (Odile puts the books down on a nearby table and opens one, you follow.)

"Should, shouldn't we be worried??? If something bad happened??" (Mirabelle asked. She was scared.)

"Well, if Siffrin ran all the way here then I bet they're about to loop back anyways." (Isa said confidently. He was also scared.)

"Quite.. Ah here." (Odile got to a page in the book. Looking at it now, it was craftonomy. The page was on different crafts and what kind of tactile response they had with a body.) "This one, a strong scent of mint is often assosiated with potent Mind Craft."

(Mind craft.)

(Odile continued.) "An advanced craft type that's distantly related to body craft; its use is... contreversal. In Ka Bue it is explicitly banned."

"I was taught a little about mind craft at the House, about how it can be used to help with someones memory, or to forget a traumatic experience." (Mirabelle added.) "We weren't ever taught it, though."

"I mostly see it in fiction. Mind crontroll, brainwashing, spooky stuff like that." (Isabeau comments.)

(You keep looking over the page. Strong sense of mint. Confusion. Hard to master. That must be it. Ramos' touch gripped Siffrins mind. You nod.)

"Compared to time craft it shouldn't be hard to undo. Unless it's powered by a wish." (Odile muses.) "Tell the next me about it then, if we don't have time here."

(You nod. It was about time for that then. Your hand slips into your cloak and to your dagger.)

(. . . Isabeau is looking at you.)

(There's an awkward silence. Odile breaks it.) "Er, actually, Mirabelle, Isabeau, there's some complicated intricacies I'll need to explain. Could you go make sure Ramos doesn't disturb us?"

"Huh?? I-I mean-"

"Leave it to us, M'dame!" (With that, Isabeau rushes to the library entrance, Mirabelle hesitated, but followed. You look up at Odile.)

". . ."

(. . .)

(There is a painful silence.)

"I, wanted to ask you something. I did not feel comfortable asking with those two around." (she eventually said. Looking at her face, it was stressed, worried.)

(she continued.) "Siffrin, or, if you want to be called that. Please be honest with me. Do you... Use your dagger in order to loop back."

(Oh Odile, still she surprises you. You tilt your head slightly as if to say "go on.")

"You've had... Moments ever since we defeated the King, and, forgive me if I'm being insensitive, you always seemed to not Care too much about your own wounds." (She paused, clearly uncomfortable.) "That, combined with... With everything, really. It would make sense."

(. . . You nod.)

". . . Is it the only way?"

(You put up a wavy hand. Not sure.)

"Is it the only consistent way? That you know of at least."

(You nod.)

". . . It, does it hurt?"

(You nod. Odile is looking at you, brow creased. She pinches the bridge of her nose. After a moment, and taking a breath, she continues.)

". . . In a next loop. We can, figure out something better than that. If you tell me I promised to keep it secret from the others, I probably will, too."

(You nod, and file that away with Odile's other offer. She was reaching out to you. Why. You don't trust her.)

". . . Thank you, Siffrin." (She takes a breath, and turns her back to you, waiting. Ah, she doesn't want to see.)

(Whatever. It's time. You take out your dagger and. . .)

(. . .)

(It still hurts.)

#heheoheoheoheoe #tw self harm #isat #isat spoilers #isat siffrin #isat mal du pays #isat odile #isat mirabelle #isat isabeau #isat bonnie #isat nille #isat art #isat fanart #isat au #isat fanfic #siffrin system au #sifstem

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darkbluekies · 3 days

Text

Of course I write psychopaths as well lmao, gotta keep the trademark

(Last private story thing I promise, I'm just so excited about these two sorry🥹🫶🏻)

Ps these are pretty violent so warning

Story 1

He wakes up to a hand slapped over his mouth. His eyes widen. At first he can't see anything, everything is too dark and blurry. As soon as his eyes have adjusted, he sees a pair of cold, gray eyes above him. The gray eyes are hidden by black stripes. HG lets out a skin-like squeal that is muffled by the hand over his mouth. Panic fills the chest. HO holds his index finger over his lips and hushes quietly.

"Come with me," the boy whispers. “I have a knife.”

HG can't move. HO gently helps him sit up with a soft, guiding hand resting on his small back. HG feels his head spinning from lack of oxygen and looks around. In the beds around him lie all the others, innocently asleep. If he just opened his mouth and said something they would wake up and be able to help him, but the sight of the shiny metal resting on the bedspread makes him sick. If he tries to wake the others, he will get the blade through the stomach.

HO notices that he has seen the knife, because he smiles crookedly and lifts it.

"It wasn't Archie (i have deleted that character so its okay to show the name) who took it, believe it or not," he grins and turns it over in fascination. "If you go along and shut up, you won't come into contact with it, okay?"

HG body twitches. He finds it difficult to nod, but finally manages to gently nod his head. HO runs his left hand through HG brown locks with a humble smile. He places the edge of the knife against HG'S back and forces him out of the dormitory. HG'S legs don't want to move and nearly trip him over the threshold on his way out. The stand is pressed hard against his waist. Millions of thoughts run through his head, but he can't understand any of them. They are flashing red as warning signals, but none of them are warning him of anything, they are screaming for help.

He doesn't want to die here. He doesn't want to die tonight. HG wants to cry, but doesn't dare.

HO takes him through the dark corridors, over to Dr. C'S office. He opens the door and lets HG walk in before him with the knife between them. The older boy flinches when the table lamp comes on. In the soft glow of the lamp, HO appears even colder, even paler.

“Are you going to kill me too?” HG asks quietly.

"Kill you?" HO repeats confused. "Why would I do that? Who have you been talking to?”

HG doesn't answer.

"Who have you been talking to, HG?" HO repeats, louder. He presses the knife against his pelvic bone.

"EDW," he gasps, thinking that EDW has a better chance of getting away from HO a second time.

“Who else knows? BN knows, right?”

HG feels his breathing hitch.

"Fuck," HO mutters and turns his gaze to the window. "Damn he's stupid."

“Why is he stupid?” HG ventures to ask, his heart pounding against his ribs. "What is it that you want?"

“You know a lot about medicine, I suppose. You are addicted to it. Help me find a poison strong enough to kill a horse.”

HG shivers. At first he doesn't move, doesn't answer. The thought of what HO will do with a poison strong enough to kill a horse makes his stomach turn. Softly, HO reaches out his hand for HG'S hair, but this HG backs away. He doesn't have time to stop himself. Ho takes a firm grip on his hair with nails scraping against HG'S scalp.

"Stop!" snarls HO. “Stop doing that!”

He lets go of HG, who nimbly staggers backwards and hits his hip on the desk. The pain penetrates the medicine, shooting lightning bolts through the blood. His chest rises and falls in a frenzy. His legs soon won't hold him up.

HG nods quickly and exhales slowly. The head spins uncomfortably. He wants to sit down.

"It's pretty pathetic when you think about it," says HO, twirling the shiny knife in his hand. “How dependent you are on the medicine, that is. Quite sad. Quite fascinating. The whole of you is fascinating, HG.” He raises his gray, intense gaze. “Like that time when you got a freak out during the test. When you screamed and punched and kicked like a madman. It was the only thing that made me endure that test. I can't scream, so I want you to do it for both of us.”

HG thinks he's going to pass out. If he hadn't seen the knife in HO's hands, he would have thought he had been stabbed in the stomach.

"What do you mean?" he gasps.

“It hurts, HG, everything hurts so much ... but I can't do anything. I want to tear myself apart, but I can't. But you… you're perfect.”

"Do not touch me."

“But, HG, in heaven you will be well. You won't have your pain anymore, so what if your human body is broken?” He smiles shyly and shrugs shyly. “I mean… how would you be able to stop me?”

Disgust fills the mouth. HG glares at him. He wishes he had opened his mouth inside the dorm and risked a stab in the stomach.

Story 2

OL was pushed down hard on the chair. Philip stood behind her, a rough hand resting on her bony shoulder. Mr. D calmly turned the revolver and smiled in shock. He exchanged an amused look with PH.

"This one is Edwardian," he said amused. “Where did you get this?”

“From a man who wanted me dead—at your command.”

Mr. D frowned, thinking, as if trying to figure out who could have tried to kill her. OL wanted to snort. How many had been ordered to kill her, if Mr. D had to think about it? He shook his head, letting it go.

"Oh, it's not important," he said, putting the gun aside.

He rummaged further in the bag and fished out the teddy bear with a mocking laugh. OL glared away at the wall, refusing to pay him any attention. She blushed, but didn't try to defend herself.

"You're too old for stuffed animals," he said.

Out of the corner of his eye, OL could see how he grabbed the teddy bear with both hands, and easily ripped off one of its legs. She widened her eyes in panic and threw her head in Mr. Dutcher's direction, her body filling with ice.

"Stop!" she screamed shrill and shot up from her chair, but was brutally pushed down by PH. “Let it be!”

Mr. D's lips twitched into a smile as he nonchalantly tore off the teddy bear's other leg, and both of its arms. He had his head beheaded and his eyes gouged out. OL wanted to scream, but her voice got stuck in the pit of her throat. She found it difficult to breathe. He waved the remains of the teddy bear in front of her eyes in an attempt to ridicule her but she boldly turned her head away, refusing to look at him. Mr. D opened his hand and flicked it across her face. OL's head flew to the side with a strong whiplash, and a scream mixed with surprise and pain rolled off his tongue. If PH hadn't kept a firm grip on her shoulders, she probably would have followed the head, down to the cement floor which was now full of white fluff.

"Don't think I've forgotten how rowdy you are," snapped Mr. D, shaking his hand free.

Her left cheek ached, throbbed and burned. OL turned her head towards him with a flash of anger in her tear filled eyes. He kept eye contact with his cold, dead eyes as he tore through the bag. He suddenly dissolved and lifted out the diary. He dropped the bag and what was left of the teddy bear onto the cement floor.

"Here we have it," he said, sounding possessed, manic. “Here we have it, finally.”

An uncomfortable silence fell over the warehouse. OL breathed quietly, straining the air between her teeth. Nausea surged inside her and pressed against the pit of her throat. She watched as Mr. D flipped through the pages, skimming through the various texts. He seemed surprised by what he read, though he tried to hide it behind a pleased grin.

"It's not a little you've written," he noted, looking up from the pages. “You must have protected this book with your life, right? Who knew about it?”

"None," OL answered shortly. “I made sure no one knew about it.”

He waved the book menacingly in front of her eyes. “What were you planning to do with it? Did you intend to use it as blackmail to get out of the contract? Or did you intend to publish it to bring me down? You know no one would have believed you, right?”

OL did not respond.

"Shall we have some reading aloud?" he asked. "Then we'll see if it sounds credible."

He flipped back and forth. OLS's cheeks burned with shame. She had exposed herself on the pages and written things she never thought anyone—especially not one of the men who hurt her—would read. Mr. D was going to hold it against her.

“You have pages left,” he said. "Your last writing is from the eighteenth of September 1916"

OL struggled against PH's grasp. "Stop! You disgusting creep, stop mentioning it!”

Mr. D took his nose out of the book. He met OLS's manic eyes that were flooded with desperate tears. She hadn't read anything she'd written since September eighteenth, had forgotten how much it really hurt.

"What did you call me?" he asked tentatively.

“A creep!” yelled OL through violent sobs. “You are a vile, cowardly creep! Damn you are a man! A man would never have treated us the way you did! You deserved to get rid of your biggest ships, and all the money you had wasted on them!”

Another hard blow slammed across her face, a harder one. OLS neck snapped.

"You must have been afraid we would tell someone about what you did," she hissed, turning her head back to Mr. D. "Why else would you have kept us inside the house?"

“It was your uncle's idea.”

“Because he did everything to be on your good side! It's your fault that they are dead — your fault that I'm left alone! I'm so glad TN stole the contract that night, and tore it up. You can find the pieces in the diary, if you don't believe me.”

"I was with your sister when she died."

A cold wind pulled through her, chilling her heart in a macabre way. She seemed to lose her hearing for a few seconds. The body went numb.

“Do you even know what happened to her?” asked Mr. Dutcher, cocking his head. "Not? Then let me tell you.”

OL couldn't answer, her voice was stuck in her throat. She didn't know if she wanted to know. Her head had already given her every conceivable scenario of how TN had died, one worse than the other. She might have scared herself. Knowing what had actually happened could be good for her. OL hesitated. What would she do if what Mr. D said was worse than what she had imagined? Or if he lied?

"She was all alone," said Mr. D, sighing. “She tried to run away from me, but I caught her. I pulled her by the hair, away from everyone else. I punched her, kicked her and pounded her head on the deck.”

OL covered her hanging mouth with her shaking hands as she shook her head in despair. She didn't want to hear any more.

“She screamed for you, OL,” continued Mr. D, “until she passed out. Then I picked her up and threw her overboard. She woke up when she hit the surface of the water, but she didn't manage to stay up for long.”

"You're lying," OL whispered in horror. “That—…that can't have happened—”

He grabbed her head.

"You know I'm not lying," he said. “But no one will believe you if you try to tell them. Especially not without this one.”

OL followed the diary with his eyes. He dropped it on the cement floor. From his pocket he took out a box of matches.

“Wait, what are you doing?” screamed OL in panic, trying to fight PH once again. "Don't do it! Please don't, I'll do anything! D, please!” Her voice rose octave after octave to a shrill, panicked voice.

Mr. D paid her no attention. He drew the match against his ashtray, let the flame grow, then let it go. It fell against the diary, caught fire instantly. OL swallowed her scream and watched the diary burn. Years of work disappeared before her eyes in less than a minute. The dark red book took off a black surface, and its pages crumbled into ash. She couldn't move. All evidence of the pain she was forced to go through, the memories of her long lost sisters and gifts, destroyed, killed.

“Don't worry, OL,” said Mr. D, accepting an iron pipe from one of his henchmen, “you won't have to try to prove this to anyone. You will not get out of here alive.”

#bluetalk<3

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clementine-writes-things · 3 days

Text

"Run Rabbit, Run!" pt.2 - E.N

Summary: After getting sent to Arkham, Edward requests to see Y/n Wayne. The visit is not what y/n expected at all...(this might not be entirely consistent with the first part, but just ignore those parts pls. I have exams soon so I'm balancing writing and college and running on like 5 hours of sleep each day 😭 I'm still rlly proud of this tho <3 I hope u like it)

Pt.1 here pt.3 here

Content Warning: 18+, explicit language, AFAB!Reader, she/her pronouns, egotistical!Edward, stalker!Edward, yandere!Edward, brief mention of suicide, mentions of rough sex, EXTREMELY graphic descriptions of sexual intercourse, sexual content, dirty talk, daddy issues, daddy kink, praising, degrading, choking, slapping, edward referring to himself as a fox and y/n a rabbit, mentions of blood, mentions of murder, mentions of guns, mentions of torture. (Edward is a freak in this. This is kinda like joker/harley dynamic except there is no abuse, it's just that Edward is so fucking charming that y/n is OBSESSED with him.)

Word Count: 7k+

Songs For Inspo:

YOU'RE TOO SLOW (Bonus) - Odetari

Freak Show - Punkinloveee, h3artcrush

I LOVE YOU HOE (W/ 9lives) -Odetari

She' So Nice - Pink Guy

Custer - Slipknot

~Read Below Cut~

Y/n sat on her bed, head in her hands as she wept. Bruce put a hand on her back, rubbing comforting circles. It was a huge blow to her gut. She had fallen in love with Edward over the months they had been friends. The two of them had gotten so close. And now, she had found out that he was The Riddler. The real humiliating part? It was right under her nose. Though she had suspicions, she never wanted to believe them, so she ignored every red flag she saw.

"I'm really sorry." Bruce said.

"Bruce, is it bad that I still care about him?" She asked, tears forming in her eyes.

He sighed.

"No, I don't think so. He was your friend."

She nodded, wiping away the tears that spilled down her cheeks. Bruce frowned, pulling her in for a hug. After the whole incident happened, Bruce immediately went to y/n's apartment, outside of his armor of course. He knew she lived nearby and he wanted to make sure his sister was ok. Y/n had told him about the man she met in a bookstore, and from what she had shared with him, he was a good person. But, he should know better than anyone how easily one can hide their true self.

"I'm surprised he didn't try and hurt you. You're a Wayne and it seems like he has a grudge against our family."

"He has every right to hold a grudge against us!"

Bruce pulled away from the hug, confusion on his face. Y/n sighed, standing up and going to her nightstand. She opened it up and pulled out a file. Tossing it to Bruce, she crossed her arms over her chest. Inside was pictures of the old orphanage that was once Wayne Manor. Pictures of the living conditions, children, and even Edward were in there. Y/n had done some serious digging to get this information, though, it was easy if you were a Wayne of course.

"He lived in the orphanage, Bruce. His entire life. Our dad offered him a better life, told him that he could work for W.I."

"He did?" He asked, looking through the pictures.

"Yes, he did. Edward, he applied so many times to the Renewal project. But...dad and mom..." She trailed.

Bruce looked up at her, feeling his heart sink.

"...well, you and I were too young to take charge of anything. So, he was left to rot in that prison. He told me about the things he experienced there, Bruce. It haunts me that Wayne Enterprises let children suffer. We could have easily helped those poor children." She sniffled, holding back tears.

"Jesus."

"You think we're sad orphans, Bruce? Look at those pictures. Look at how they lived..."

He did. He saw all of it. The rats. The horrible beds that they had to sleep in, if they even could. Bruce felt cold just looking at the pictures. He winced as he saw one picture of a child, bite marks on their hands and fingers.

"When I was older, I found out about this. That's why I live out here, Bruce. I want to live like everyone else does. I donate to the orphanages, I do check ups to make sure everything is good, I donate to hospitals, I do volunteering. But, it was Edward who showed me how truly terrible this city is. Yes, he murdered people...but they were bad people Bruce. You know this. That's why he didn't go after me..."

"It sounds like you're defending his actions..." He raised an eyebrow.

"I'm not! I'm just...he's not a bad person, Bruce. Sick in the head, sure. I'm just worried about him..." She mumbled.

"Y/n, he murdered people."

"And you go around beating people up in a bat costume! Maybe you belong in Arkham too." She spat.

"I don't kill people."

"Well, maybe if you did this city would be safer!"

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

"I-..I don't know. I'm sorry. I'm just shaken up. Frankly, I could give a shit about the people he killed, they were all scum. I'm just worried about Edward."

"Well, he's in Arkham, he's safe there. He can't hurt anyone and he can't hurt himself."

"I guess...not the most humane place though."

Y/n's phone rang, making both of them fall silent. Who could be calling this late at night? It had been an hour since Edward was apprehended, making it 1 A.M. She looked at Bruce before answering the phone.

"This is Y/n Wayne, who is this?"

'Ms. Wayne, this is Cap-...Commissioner Gordon.'

"Commissioner Gordon! Um, what's the matter?"

Bruce raised an eyebrow.

'It's 'The Riddler'. He's asked to see you in Arkham.'

"Oh, um...ok, I'll be there."

Y/n hung up the phone.

"It's Edward. He's requested to see me..."

"And you're going?" He asked.

"Well, of course I am. I need an explanation, some closure. He's still my friend, Bruce."

He sighed.

"I'm surprised he hasn't asked to see me. He seemed so obsessed with gaining my attention. Um, you're not going to tell him that I'm..."

"No, Bruce. I'm not an idiot. Can you drive me to Arkham, please? It'd be nice to have you there."

"Yeah, that's ok..."

When the Wayne siblings arrived, everyone practically worshipped them. Offering to open doors, constantly saying 'Ms. Wayne' and 'Mr. Wayne'. It annoyed the both of them a lot, though Bruce was the one who could hide the annoyance. Y/n, however, could not. Yes, she loved her family, but she didn't want to be seen as simply 'the Wayne daughter'. It put her on a high pedestal that she hated being on.

"Fuck, there he is." She mumbled, looking at him through the one way window.

"Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Yes. Um, I know there is camera in the room, but do they pick up audio too? I'd prefer for our conversation to be private."

Bruce looked at the security officer.

"Oh, um, no ma'am they do not pick up sound. They only serve as surveillance to make sure an inmate doesn't try and do something they shouldn't. Sometimes we hold therapy sessions in here too, so, legally we can't record sound."

"Ok, thank you. Alright, I'm going in."

"I love you, little sis."

"I love you too, big brother."

Y/n took a deep breath as she opened the door. Edward's gaze landed on her immediately, causing her to feel small. Yes, y/n had always been slightly intimidated by Edward, but even more so now. He did not look like a person who was capable of violence, and yet he murdered multiple people. It was startling. Swallowing a lump in her throat, she sat down in the chair on the other side of the glass.

"Mmm, I knew you'd come..." He hummed.

"You're still my friend, Edward. I care about you."

He chuckled, deciding he'd circle back to that topic later. Tilting his head to the side, he raised his hands up slowly so the guard didn't get jumpy. Edward pointed at the thing in their hands.

"What's that?" He asked.

Y/n opened up the slot underneath the glass. She slid the item into the box, closing the lid. It fell to Edward's side, and he picked it up. A small smile formed on his lips. It was y/n's copy of 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'. Y/n watched as he flipped through the pages, immediately feeling himself grow warm with happiness.

"I was going to bring you a blanket, but they said that it was a safety hazard. They said you could hang yourself with it." She grumbled.

"Well, this is still a nice present."

It fell silent in the visiting room. The only sound was the flipping of the pages as Edward skimmed through the book. He looked so nonchalant, as if he didn't just snipe Falcone less than 2 hours ago. Though, to be fair, his death wasn't that distressing. Y/n was just startled by how calm he was, especially with where he was.

"Edward, why did you call me here?"

"Hm, I'm not entirely sure...I suppose I just wanted to see my 'friend' again." He smiled innocently.

Y/n huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. Edward smirked, humming to himself like he usually did. His fingers rapped against the book, creating small tap sounds. Eventually, y/n just rolled her eyes.

"Look, if you aren't going to talk to me then I'll just go."

"Oh, you will? Ok then, go ahead."

Y/n looked at him, cheeks tinted slightly pink. He had that smug grin on his face, y/n had seen it a lot. Edward had that look when he won a game they were playing or if he stumped y/n on a riddle. But, this time it was more sinister. It sent chills down her spine and she stayed put in the chair. Edward chuckled, nodding his head slowly. He didn't have to say anything, they both knew he called her out on her bluff. Sighing, he looked at her with kind eyes, but his tone of voice was the complete opposite. He was so good at pretending to be something he was not.

"Y/n Wayne, you knew who I was for a while. Why didn't you say anything?" He questioned.

"I-I don't know what you're talking about, Edward."

"Hm, so you never saw the mask in my pocket that one night? You never saw the tiny dots of blood on my face ? The riddles never raised a red flag?" He asked, continuing to flip through the book.

Y/n was silent, looking down at her hands shamefully. Edward tutted, shaking his head. Coolly, he read a small part of the page he was on before looking back up at y/n. She nodded, admitting that she saw them all.

"Uh huh, so why didn't you say anything? I'm dying to know the answer..."

"I-It was because you were my...friend, Edward. I was conflicted."

He kept his face neutral as he looked at her.

"Mmm, there's that word again. Friend. I know you're lying about your answer, so I'll make a deal with you. I'll tell you a secret I've been keeping for a while, and you in return will give me an honest answer. Sound fair?" He asked.

Before she could answer, he started to talk again.

"I've been stalking you for months, y/n. Long before I 'met' you in that bookstore. Did you know that?" He giggled.

"What?"

"Did you really think I just happened to show up in your favorite bookstore? That I just happened to live directly across from you? I know everything about you, y/n. I've been watching you. Studying you. Like a predator stalks their prey."

"You're fucking with me, Edward. That's not funny." She scolded.

"Oh, I don't think it's funny either. I'm being very serious, y/n. Now, why don't you tell me the truth about why you never ratted me out?"

"What the fuck..." She mumbled.

"Well? I'm waiting for an answer."

She was taken aback by his secret, but it made sense the more she thought about it. Of course he had stalked her. She was just too fucking stupid to see it. The thought of Edward stalking her for months before they met scared the shit out of her. But, at the same time, it excited her.

"Y-You're a creep! I trusted you! I lov-..." She trailed.

"Aha, there's the answer I was looking for! Go on, say it." He cackled.

She sighed, looking at her hands again.

"I loved you, Edward. That's why I never said anything."

"Loved? Oh no, you still love me y/n. I know you do. Otherwise, you wouldn't be here."

"I do not love you! You're a psycho, a creep, and a murderer!" She spat.

"You knew all of those things before, yet you still were 'friends' with me. Isn't that right?" Edward smirked.

"W-"

"And don't act like you hate the idea of me stalking you. I know who you are, y/n. You're so easy to read."

"I-I don't know what you're talking about..."

Edward sighed in annoyance, propping his forearms up on the metal ledge. He maintained his neutral facial expression as he looked at her. Y/n felt small under his gaze and he knew it. He knew he had power over her. He always would.

"Tell me, doesn't the thought of me watching you from my apartment excite you? Waiting all night for even the tiniest glimpse of you? I know how much you crave attention from others." Edward suavely said.

"I-I mean..."

"Oh, precious Y/n never got the attention she so desperately wanted growing up. No mommy and daddy to tell her 'I'm so proud of you, sweet girl!'. Isn't that right, rabbit?" He cooed.

Y/n felt a chill go down her spine. He was right. Fuck, he was good at reading people. Sniffling, y/n nodded her head. How the hell was he doing this to her?

"Oh, the poor thing. You have such a kind heart, always giving and giving and giving. When has anyone ever given you anything in return? When was the last time someone praised you?" He asked.

Y/n reached up, wiping a tear from her eye quickly.

"S-So long..."

"That just won't do, will it? No, I don't think it will."

She looked at him, lips quivering.

"You know who is proud of you? Eddie."

He watched as she smiled softly. Edward loved seeing her smile so much. If he could just capture a picture of it and keep it, he was sure he would never feel sadness ever again.

"Y-You are?" She sniffled.

"Of course I am, sweetheart. You make me so proud. There are so many things you're good at that deserve praise. Your art, your constant donations to charity, your kind heart, my oh my the list goes on!" He chuckled.

Y/n was blushing like a school girl. To be completely honest, she didn't care that Edward had stalked her. Sure, it was a little jarring, but he was the first person to show her genuine love in a long time. Y/n was head over heels for him and there was nothing she could do about it. The heart wants what it wants after all.

"Oh, there's that beautiful smile. Such a pretty girl. But, y/n, I do have one thing I'm not proud of at all."

"W-What dad-...Edward?"

He smiled to himself at her near 'slip up'. If she had called him it, he wouldn't have minded at all. Actually, he would have loved it...

"You see, you lie to me a lot. You think I never notice, but I do."

"I-I'm sorry..."

"Do not apologize, y/n. All will be forgiven if you just tell me the truth about one thing."

"O-Ok!"

"That's my girl, now, the 'bad dream' you had earlier. I believe you didn't tell me the full story. Why don't you tell Eddie alllll about it?" He grinned.

"O-Oh...um, I-..." She trailed.

"You can tell me anything, rabbit. I'll keep it as a secret."

Swallowing a lump in her throat, she nodded softly. Edward kept his gaze on her. It was a good thing that the cameras didn't record audio, because he knew what was coming. Yes, he already knew what the dream centered around, but he wanted to hear her say it. He wanted to hear the filthy words leave her mouth.

"W-Well, I was honest about dreaming that you were the Riddler..."

"And you were right! You're so smart." He praised.

Y/n should have felt disgusted at how light hearted he was, but she wasn't. It was upsetting how in love she was with him. She was y/n Wayne and she was in love with The Riddler. But, the shame behind that brought excitement. It was a secret between the two of them, a forbidden love. Just like Romeo & Juliet.

"...but you um, you were frightening. A-And, I um...liked it." She mumbled.

He raised an eyebrow.

"Can you elaborate?"

"I th-thought it was hot...that you um, were making me scared. Um, you were being really um...rough." She stuttered.

Edward felt his dick slowly getting hard. He cursed the glass in his head and the cameras. If he could he'd reach right across and give y/n something to dream about for years to come. Groaning softly, he nodded his head. He wasn't going to be vague anymore. He was going to be blunt.

"Did I fuck you?"

"I-..no. I w-woke up before anything like that happened." She admitted.

"Mmm, so you got all worked up over a dream I didn't even fuck you in? You must have really loved what I was saying and doing in it, huh?" He teased.

"Yeah. I-I did."

"You say we're friends, y/n. But, do friends say they love each other in a romantic way? Do friends have wet dreams about each other?" He asked.

"N-No, they don't..."

"That's right. Mmm, I've had dreams of you too, rabbit. Filthy, filthy, dreams." Edward shivered.

Y/n shifted in her seat, arousal soaking through her panties. Edward could tell she was turned on. She couldn't keep still, thighs subtly rubbing together. He tutted and shook his head.

"Now, now, you better stop that. You don't want to get caught, do you? How embarrassing would that be to have your brother find out that The Riddler was making your pussy wet? I'd be mortified if I were you." He taunted.

She whimpered, ceasing the movement of her legs. Edward could see how much willpower it was taking her not to do it. Amused, he smiled and tilted his head. He was going to torment her, tease her until she was merely a puddle on the chair.

"Ever since I first saw you, I was fascinated. That fascination turned into love. And with most love, comes lust. And oh, my sweet rabbit, I have never wanted someone as badly as I want you."

"R-Really?"

"Believe me when I say that I want to ruin you, y/n."

Y/n whined, resisting the urge to dive her hands down her pants. Edward scoffed, resting his hands back in his lap. He grabbed his dick through his pants, adjusting it.

"I have much more to say, y/n. I suggest you do your best to keep your face neutral. But you can moan, just quietly. I would very much love to hear you moan. I've wondered what it might sound like."

She nodded, gaining her composure as much as she could. Sighing, Edward looked towards the ceiling. It looked as if he was collecting his thoughts. Y/n nearly trembled in anticipation.

"I've had so many dreams of you. Some of them are sweet. Those ones consist of us going on dates, maybe a park or a movie." He said.

"That sounds nice."

"It does, doesn't it?" He smiled.

"But the other ones, ohhh, they are filthy. They are so vulgar that I'm not sure I should let them fall upon your ears." He hummed playfully.

"N-No, I want to hear! Please daddy!" She blurted out, covering her mouth with her hand.

He smiled gently, his dick twitching underneath his pants. A soft groan left his lips. Edward was wishing a painful death the the guard watching their visit. He wished for the cameras to power down and for the glass to disappear.

"You sound just like you do in my dreams. I can't say no to how pathetic that sounded."

Y/n blushed, rubbing her thigh with her hand. It was out of view of the cameras and the window, so Edward allowed it.

"I've had dreams where you're on your knees, begging for me. You always look so desperate and needy every time. It's such a pitiful sight that I can't help but give you what you want. Do you know what you want in those dreams?" He asked flatly.

"W-What, da-" She paused.

"Oh rabbit, you can call me that if you'd like. It sounds so good rolling of your tongue..." Edward smirked.

"Ok, daddy...um, what do I want in your dreams?"

Leaning forward, he got closer to the glass. A cocky, toothy smile plastered over his face. His eyes were bright and happy, as if he was about to tell her a funny joke. Raising up his hands, slowly, he made a very subtle 'jerking' motion.

"To get fucked like a whore, obviously." He laughed.

Y/n whimpered. Her chest was tightening from how aroused she was. She took a deep breath, letting it out through pursed lips. Edward grinned, seeing how worked up he was making her.

"Oh, but you're not a whore. No, far from it. In my dreams I may fuck you like one, but you don't act like one. Once I'm done giving you a good dick down, you get so clingy. You're so dependent on me, never wanting to leave my side. It's so precious. I only hope that you're like that outside of my dreams too." He cooed.

"Y-Yes, I am! I-I'm here, after all. I missed you..."

"Oh, that's so sweet. I shoot and kill Carmine Falcone and the first thing you think of is 'I want Edward! Where's Eddie? I miss him so much!'. Is that right?"

"Well, not exactly."

"Hm?"

"I cried first..."

Edward felt a pang in his chest. It genuinely hurt his heart to hear her say that. He never wanted to make her cry, unless it was from pleasure.

"You poor thing, I never though about how you'd feel. I never wanted to make you cry, I just wanted to get rid of the scum that pollutes Gotham." He frowned.

"I know, I may not agree with the murdering...but I'm not saying I miss Falcone either. It just scared me. I was just worried about what would happen to you..."

"You were worried about me, rabbit? You don't need to do that. I can take care of myself, y/n." He smiled.

She nodded. Edward could tell that she felt sad. He did not want her to be sad, not at all.

"You know I love you, y/n. Right?" He asked.

"Y-Yes, I do."

"I did it all for you. I had different plans for Gotham before. I was going to do something far worse, but you made me change my mind. I just want you to live in a city where you can be safe."

Y/n smiled. It was a messed up way to show he loved and cared for her, but she hadn't been loved before. She didn't care anymore, she just was warmed that he wanted her to be safe. Even if he did it through murdering crooked and corrupt people. She blushed, looking down at her hands.

"No, no, don't hide your face. I want to see it." He asked softly.

She looked back up, faint pink dusted on the tip of her nose and her cheeks. Edward loved that about her so much. He thought it made her look so happy and gentle. He chuckled, clapping his hands together as much as he could with the handcuffs on.

"There she is, the prettiest thing in Gotham." He smiled.

"You're making me blush, Edward..." She mumbled.

"I know and I love it. I love watching you get flustered, it's so precious. If only I could touch you..." He sighed.

"Why do you want to touch me?" She asked.

"Well, I want to hold you and kiss you, y/n. That the first thing I want to do." Edward hummed.

"First? Wh-what are the other things?"

"The things I dream of, rabbit." He grinned.

"Tell me more about the dreams!" Y/n said.

He tutted, wagging his finger back and forth. Eyes were squinted as he disapprovingly frowned. He rested his forearms back on the metal ledge, smiling cockily.

"Now, that sounded like a demand. You aren't telling me to do something without asking nicely, are you?"

"N-No, I'm sorry! P-Please, tell me more Eddie." She corrected herself.

"That sounds much better."

He looked her up and down, sighing happily.

"Tell you more, hm? But there are so many dreams, so many fantasies. Though, one thing stays the same in every single one." Edward stated.

"What is that?" Y/n asked curiously.

He planted his hands on the cold surface, leaning towards the glass. His face turned into a very sadistic and comical expression. Dramatically, he emphasized his words.

"You take my dick like a fucking champ..." He smirked.

Y/n moaned, letting out a breathy sigh. Edward stayed in his close position, not finished with what he was saying.

"I'd fuck you so perfectly that nobody else's dick could even make you feel a fraction as good. But before I'd do that, I'd make sure you're on the brink of tears in desperation. You don't get dicked unless I believe you've earned it. I'd want you on your knees, begging, whimpering, groveling at my feet in hopes that I'll fuck your needy pussy." He chuckled.

Y/n's mouth was slightly agape, startled by how blunt he was. He looked like such a shy person, yet he was a total freak. Again, he was so good at pretending to be someone he was not. Everything he was saying seemed so out of character for him, but in reality, it was his true self. Y/n was just the only one who could bring that side out of him. Edward groaned, pointing at her mouth. He seemed irritated or frustrated, either one really.

"That pretty mouth, it's practically asking me to fuck it. Those lips look so plump and soft. Oh rabbit, open up, let me see your tongue." He asked, on the verge of pleading.

She hesitated slightly, but did as he said. Of course she did. No matter what, she would listen to and do what he said. She was his property, and they both knew it. None of them had to even say it. It was obvious that y/n was Edward's girl. Titles weren't necessary. She was simply his, as much as he was hers. Y/n let her tongue roll out and let Edward look at it for a bit. She did it in a way so that the cameras didn't see, and if they did, it just looked like she was yawning in a way. He covered his mouth with his fingers, doing his best to not jerk off at the brief sight of her tongue.

"Ffffuu...it's a blessing that I can't touch you. Your throat would be raw after I finish with you..." He groaned.

Y/n whined, spreading her legs open subtly. Edward looked down, seeing the obvious damp spot over her pelvic region. His tongue darted out and swiped over his lips. Her eyes were silently screaming 'Please, I want you!' and he loved it. Once again, he cursed the glass between them. He just wanted to devour her, taste her, eat her alive like a fox eats a rabbit. She probably tasted so sweet...

"I wish you could see how you look right now. It's so pitiful. You look like you want to be fucked so bad. Do you want to be fucked?" He groaned.

"Y-Yes, I need it daddy..." She shivered.

"Need? You desperate thing, tell me why you need to get fucked by me."

"B-Because I'm so w-wet...it aches..." Y/n whined.

"Poor rabbit, if he could daddy would bend you over and fuck you against this glass." He said flatly.

Y/n moaned softly, making Edward grip his pants. The sound was nearly enough to make him bust all over the hospital uniform. Not wanting to draw attention, Edward looked at the book again. He pretended to read it.

"You said you dreamt I was rough with you, yet I didn't even fuck you? Well, I can promise you that I'd never hurt you with your permission, I want you to know that. I love you too much to do that to you. I believe that trust and safety is important when doing things like that. So, do you trust me, y/n?" He asked, looking up from the book.

"Y-Yes."

"You believe I'll keep you safe?"

"Yes, I do."

"And you'd tell me if you were uncomfortable, yes?"

"Of course."

Edward looked back down at the book, once again pretending to read it. He was such an actor. It was almost sinful how easily he could hide his lust and vulgarity.

"So, if I shoved your face into your bed with my hand wrapped around your neck, would you like that? Would you like it if I made you choke and gasp for air?" He hummed.

"Fuck...y-yes..."

"Do you want me to pull your hair and skull fuck you until you're crying on my dick? I bet your gags sound so vulgar and erotic." He asked nonchalantly.

"E-Edward, please..."

He held up the book and slumped into the chair. Edward looked like this was the most boring conversation he had ever had in his life. His eyes lazily ran over the words in the book, y/n was half convinced he was actually reading it while he spoke those filthy words to her.

"I bet you'd like to get slapped too. Not too hard, of course. I wouldn't want to bruise that pretty little face. But, firm enough the make sure you don't step out of line. You seem like you love to be put in your place." He yawned.

"E-Edward, I don't know if I can handle this anymore..."

"That's too bad, you wanted to hear all of this, right? Now you need to sit and listen."

"F-Fuck..."

"You're filthy, rabbit. Letting a criminal and a murderer make your pussy wet."

"I-I know."

"That's good that you know. You're self-aware about how dirty you are. You must want dick terribly bad if you've resorted to someone like me."

"N-No, I l-love you!"

"Hmm, that's right. That doesn't make it any better though, rabbit. In fact, it makes it worse. Not only do you want to get dicked down by me, but you love me. For shame."

"B-But..."

"Oh, don't worry sweetheart. I'm not angry with you. I think it's lovely that you feel that way towards me, I feel the same to you. But, we better make sure no one else knows about this. Hm?"

"Mhm!"

Edward placed the book down, looking at y/n.

"Mmm, I wish I could just fuck the soul out of you. I want to make you writhe and squirm. I just know you'd feel so good around my dick."

She moaned a little louder, biting down on her tongue. Edward chuckled, leaning against the metal ledge again.

"You, rabbit, are going to scream my name." He smiled.

"Th-that's big talk f-from someone in A-Arkham." She stuttered.

Edward raised an eyebrow.

"Are you getting smart with me?"

"N-No...I was j-just..."

"No. I know what you were doing and I'm not amused. You don't think I'll find my way out of here? I will. And when I do, I'm coming for you."

Y/n blushed.

"When I get out of here, I'll be sure to rearrange those pathetic guts of yours. I'm all bark and bite."

"You can't even touch me, Edward. It sounds like a bunch of talk to me..." She huffed, getting annoyed with his cocky behavior.

"You want me to break the glass and fuck you right here? I could care less about being watched but I sincerely doubt you want the guards to see you get fucked stupid by me. Don't play with me." He spat.

"I'm n-not trying to play with you, daddy..." Y/n mumbled softly, looking down at her hands.

"Yes you are. You're mocking me and yet you sit before me, wet, pathetic, and needy. Isn't that right, rabbit?"

She nodded.

"You want me to protect you, hold you, love you, yes?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes..."

"My, my, you have terrible daddy issues, don't you? Hm. But, if you want that so bad, then why are you playing with me? Mocking me? Do you think I appreciate that? Do you think it makes me proud?" He scolded.

"No I don't, daddy." Y/n sniffled.

"Mhm, it was so rude of you to talk to me like that. Do you want to hurt daddy's feelings?" He frowned.

He was such a serpent. Oh, but he was so lovely, too. Y/n couldn't help it. It was as if she bit the apple from the tree of good and evil. Except, the serpent held the apple in his mouth after, taunting her as she begged for more. Edward was waving what she wanted in her face, just out of her reach. And he knew it. He was so sick that it was hypnotic. So dangerous yet so kind looking, a wolf in sheep's clothing. Y/n was getting too close to him, but she didn't care if she got bit.

"N-No! I don't want to!" She whined.

"Then what do we say when we hurt someone's feelings?" He hummed, cupping a hand over his ear.

Y/n swallowed a lump in her throat, practically choking on her desire. She placed her hands on the ledge, bottom lip quivering as she looked at Edward. He felt his heart skip a beat as he saw slight tears prick in her eyes. She looked so pretty when she cried, as demented as that sounded. A single tear trickled down her cheek before she wiped it away with her finger.

"M' sorry, daddy..." Y/n sighed.

"Oh, say it again, rabbit." Edward grinned.

She looked at him, blushing heavily. He raised and eyebrow, giving a sleazy smile. Y/n looked at the floor, feeling slightly humiliated. Why? She truly did not know. Maybe it was the way he was talking to her. He was so good at making her feel small.

"I-I'm sorry, daddy." She mumbled.

"An apology has never sounded so sweet..." He hummed.

Y/n figeted with her hands.

"You're just lucky I'm not able to get closer to you, rabbit. You'd be giving me more than just an apology." Edward stated flatly.

She whined, trying to picture what he was hinting at in her head. But, when she did that, she felt herself getting more turned on. That was the last thing she needed.

"I'd give you something too, but I don't know if you'd be able to handle it..." He laughed softly.

Oh, he was so demented. But, it was so hot to her. Y/n should not be so worked up over a murderer talking pure smut to her. Yet, she was. Her core ached and throbbed, pleading for her fingers, Edward's fingers, his dick, mouth, anything. She needed to be touched so bad. It was driving her crazy. She squeezed her thighs together, doing her best not to rub them together.

"That's it, back to being timid. You know you aren't the one in control here, y/n. I may be in chains in this hellhole, but don't think for one second that it makes me weak. I haven't touched you and yet I have you soaking wet, desperate to pleasure yourself while 2 cameras are pointed at you. I have you whimpering, whining, moaning, and begging for something that I can't even give you. Does that sound like someone with no power over you? No hold over you?"

"No, Edward. I-It doesn't."

"Exactly. And you love it."

She nodded and whined.

"I've got you eating out of the palm of my hand, y/n. Just like a rabbit. I wonder, if I give you a carrot, will you jump for me?" He snickered.

"I'm not a pet!" She spat.

"Then why are you so obedient to me? Why are you so dependent on me?" Edward asked, shrugging his shoulders.

"I-..."

He leaned forward, propping his elbows up. Looking at y/n, he spoke in a low tone.

"Admit it, I own you! My name is practically branded on your chest. If only...no, I don't want to scar that pretty skin of yours. But, maybe, I could just mark you...yes. Would you like that? My teeth digging into your neck? I swear I'll try to be gentle, but I'm afraid you might taste too good to be able to restrain myself...I bet your flesh and blood tastes like sugar..."

Y/n was shocked, completely thrown off by his sadistic words. Yes, she was trembling in fear. It was so disturbing to hear him talk about how he wanted to mark her, break the skin on her neck. But, yet again, y/n found herself drawn to him. It was sick, twisted, and vile. And her pussy throbbed.

"I-, b-but it'll hurt..." She whimpered.

"Well, I said I'd do my best to be gentle. All you have to do is tell me to stop! Though I so badly want to...rip you apart...I would never want to make you upset or uncomfortable, sweet rabbit." He smiled sadistically.

Y/n panted, feeling arousal seep onto her inner thighs. She felt so dirty...

"I already know the second you get home, you're going to play with yourself while thinking about me. Thinking about the things I could do to you. Thinking about how I could just..."

Edward banged his fists subtly on the table, maintaining a consistent rhythm. He kept eye contact the whole time, lips curling up into a sickly smile. He was a cocky little shit. He knew exactly what he was doing to her and he thrived in the actions he did. The sound of his fists banging rang in her ears and made her throb. Edward sped up the pace, watching as y/n's eyes closed, no doubt imagining the feeling and how it would look. Abruptly, he stopped, practically edging her in a way.

"...destroy you. Break you. Please you. Torture you." He smirked.

"E-Edward, you're a dick! You're tormenting me!" She cried softly.

"Yes I am, took you fucking long enough. I thought you were smart?" He mocked.

She shuddered, his cold gaze freezing her blood.

"It's a game to me, y/n. Yes, I love you, but I love making you crave me too. And you make it so easy..."

A knock on the glass startled y/n, making her turn around. It was most likely Bruce telling her that the visit was going on too long. She sighed, looking back to Edward. Y/n was upset, not wanting to leave, despite how torturous he was being to her. He too looked upset, his plaything was about to leave. His plaything. His. He'd have to make the last minute count. He lured the prey into security, and it was genuine security. But now, it was time for the mind games. It was time for him to strike fear and paranoia into her heart. He wanted to be in her mind for a long time to come.

"You said you loved how I intimidated and scared you in your dream, yes?" He asked.

"Yeah?"

"You'll never know when I get out of Arkham. Not until it hits the newspapers."

Y/n looked at him, unsure of what he was getting at.

"I wonder how long you'll be paranoid? How many times will you watch a dark corner, wondering if I'll walk out of it? How many times will you sleep with one eye open? How many times will you watch behind your back as you walk down the streets? I am still a criminal, after all." He smirked devilishly.

Y/n's eyes widened, feeling her skin turn to ice. It was then that she realized he truly was sick. But, why did she still love him? Oh, how conflicting a forbidden love must be. To want someone that should not be wanted. To seek approval from someone one should never seek approval from. His pupils looked dilated, staring deep into her soul. She felt exposed and violated just from his gaze. And she loved it...

"Lord, what fools these mortals be!" He shouted.

She shivered, standing up slowly from the chair. Edward picked up the book again, flipping to a certain page. He had memorized the entire book, as he had already read his own copy he bought at the bookstore. But, being Edward, he wanted to be theatric as he read quotes. He looked at y/n in the eyes, standing up abruptly, no doubt startling the guard, Bruce, and y/n herself. He placed his hands against the glass, a breathy laugh leaving his lips.

"I'll follow thee and make a heaven of hell..." He trailed.

Her pussy throbbed once again, thinking back to when they were in the bookstore. She had told Edward that she would never accept anyone's love unless they confessed or expressed it through Shakespeare. And, he was doing exactly that, Although, he was doing it in Edward fashion. Ominous, eerie, and disturbing.

"...to die upon the hand I love so well." She finished.

The door opened up and Bruce came in, grabbing y/n by the hand. Edward laughed hysterically, pacing back and forth behind the glass. His eyes were crazed behind his glasses as he kept his gaze on y/n the entire time. Y/n could tell that he was being dramatic, just wanting to get a rise out of everyone.

"Thus I die. Thus, thus, thus. Now I am dead, now I am fled, my soul is in the sky. Tongue, lose thy light. Moon take thy flight..." He paused, slowly walking back to the glass.

"...Now die, die, die, die!" He cackled.

He watched as Bruce dragged y/n out of the room. She looked back at him, still worked up from their 'discussion'. Edward blew a kiss to her, further making the scene more demented. Y/n attempted to reach up and grab it, but wanted to be discreet, so instead she smiled at him. It was odd though, as she was still terrified of his tangent that he went on. The sight of him laughing and quoting Shakespeare was not something she thought she would ever be scared of, but it was. But before she left, she heard him say one last thing. It sent chills down her spine.

"Run rabbit, run! For I linger in the shadows and you will never know when I might pounce..."

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