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de4dlyniightshade · 3 months

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꩜ WHAT'S A GIRL TO DO?

꩜ PAIRING: spencer reid x afab!reader

꩜ RATING: 18+, mdni

꩜ WORD COUNT: 2.9k

꩜ WARNINGS/CONTAINS!: smut, needy!spencer, vague mentions of injury, dry humping, making out, cumming in pants, handjob, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, dacryphilia, begging, light choking, brat!spencer, softdom!reader,

꩜ PROMPT(kinda): when he's begging so nicely and looking at you with those big eyes, what's a girl to do?

[WARNING!] - explicit sexual content! mdni!

꩜ A/N: ^•-•^

You knew that Spencer could be stubborn since the day you met him, which was never much of an issue; everyone could be stubborn at times, but this was hell in a handbag. He had only been out of hospital for two days, and you already felt like you were losing your voice from spending the entire day yelling his name, not to mention constantly forcing him to stay in bed.

"Spencer! sit down! You're not supposed to even be out of the hospital yet, let alone on your feet." You scolded for about the tenth time today. Honestly, you felt like a nurse taking care of an elderly, demented man with the willpower of a thirteen-year-old boy.

"I'm fine! I can walk; I don't wanna sit down anymore." Spencer bargained with you, trying to convince you that he wasn't in complete agony, which you knew he was, and you weren't about to let him make it any worse. You needed him healed and out of your hair as soon as possible, not because you didn't want to be around him; you just knew that he wanted to be better and back out in the field.

"You're a terrible patient, you know that?" You grumbled as you walked over to him, clearly unsteady on his feet, using your shared sofa to keep himself upright. "Sit down before you fall down," you ordered, placing your hands on his shoulders and urging him back onto the couch, where he insisted on being rather than in bed, where he was supposed to be, whining about wanting to be nearer to you, which is what made you cave. You couldn't deny him quality time with you, especially when he gave you his winning puppy eyes.

"If you don't cut it out, you're going straight back to bed, or I can give the doctor one phone call and he'll be the one taking care of you." You didn't mean to be demanding or strict with him; you just didn't want him to hurt himself further. It was purely out of love, and Spencer knew that, but he just couldn't help but want to be close to you. He had spent just over a week in a boring hospital room being showered with care, but it wasn't the care he wanted. He wanted to touch you; he needed it, and he was sick of trying to drop hints.

"Will you sit with me at least? please?" He pouted with those same puppy eyes that he used to get here in the first place, and you just couldn't say no, letting out a defeated sigh. "Alright, fine, but I'm still not happy with you," you warned, pointing an accusing finger at him as you carefully sat down next to him, lifting your arm instinctively so he could rest his head on your chest, his arms snaking around your waist.

You sat there with him curled against your chest, your fingers combing through his long hair as your chin rested on top of his head. It was a completely innocent moment between the both of you, or so you thought. Your brows furrowed as you felt Spencer sneak his hand under your shirt, trailing his way up until you grabbed his wrist, stopping him just shy of his destination.

"Nice try, mister," you quipped, Spencer letting out a whine of protest, fighting your hold on his wrist to no avail. "Come on, please? Can I please just touch you?" He begged, moving to rest his chin on your shoulder, trying to go three for three with those big eyes, but you weren't going to let him win this time. You were soft on him, but not that soft; you knew exactly where it would lead.

"Nope, hands off, hoppy; I know your little ploy and it's not gonna happen." Your tone was stern as you stared him down, his hand still under your shirt and a pout still on his lips. You did feel bad denying him, but doctors orders were no strenuous activities, and although groping wasn't strenuous, what would follow definitely was.

"Please, I just wanna feel you, I promise." Spencer bargained desperately, and you could feel him breaking down your will, but you forced yourself not to fall for it. "Spencer, no, don't make promises you can't keep." You felt a tightening in your chest as he looked back at you, pouting with big, sad eyes, and you could've sworn you saw his eyes welling up with tears.

"I'll keep it, I will, I promise. Please just let me touch you." You could hear the desperation in his voice as he begged and pleaded with you, tears now truly welling up in his eyes, and you broke. "Oh Spence, shh shh, don't cry, honey," you moved to quickly cup his cheeks, walking straight into his trap as he looked up at you with his picture-perfect sad face. Who could blame you?

"j-just miss you," he sniffled, and he wasn't lying about that or trying to trick you; he did actually miss you; he missed your warm, soft body and being close to you after having spent a week with the only physical affection being a peck on the lips, cheek, or forehead and a reassuring hand in his. Needless to say, he was sexually frustrated.

"Okay, okay, but you promised only touching, got it?" You reminded him, a stern look in your eyes as he nodded eagerly before moving to bury his face in the crook of your neck, finally inching his hand up to cup your breast, an almost silent whine falling from his lips, and you melted. You wouldn't admit it, but you'd missed his touch just as badly as he'd missed yours.

You felt Spencer breathing heavily against your neck as he continued to caress your soft flesh, his other hand gripping at your soft waist as you ran your fingers through his hair, cupping the back of his head as a quiet moan slipped past your lips when he suddenly pinched your nipple between his fingers, the sound making his sweatpants tighten and blood quickly rushing south.

"I-I need you, please," Spencer whined into your neck, placing a few open-mouthed kisses over your pulse, letting his tongue dart out to taste your skin, the feeling of his hot mouth on you almost clouding your judgement enough to let him continue before you realised what he was doing, snapping out of it.

"Spence, no, remember w-what the doctor said." You tried to pull away as you spoke, but Spencer just secured his arm around your waist, tugging you closer as he continued to mouth at your neck, gently suckling and licking your smooth skin, still rolling your sensitive nipple between his fingers.

"P-Please, I'll take anything. J-Just please, please touch me," Spencer mewled, moving to press his hard length into you, wincing as he strained his leg. "Spence, sit back, please." You placed your hand on his chest, pushing him to sit back to take the strain off of his injury, Spencer whining as you did, the loss of your body heat making him pout at you.

"Spence, come one, you know better," you sighed, a sympathetic look on your face as you kept your hand on his chest, stopping him from hurting himself further. "P-Please, I c-can't; it h-hurts, please," he panted, his eyes pleading and glassy as he shifted where he sat, his tip rubbing against the inside of his pants and making him whimper.

You felt yourself losing your composure watching him buck his hips into nothing, looking at you with those pleading eyes, his hair awry and clothes wrinkled. "You promise to stay completely still?" you questioned, watching Spencer lick his lips before he nodded quickly.

"Promise, I-I promise," he breathed, watching intently as you removed your hand from his chest, quickly moving to sling your leg over him, straddling his lap, and placing your hands on his shoulders. A whimper falling from his lips the second your clothed core pressed to his as he instinctively rutted his hips upward.

"Still. Spencer. Or I'll stop." You warned, lifting yourself off his lap to prove your point. "Sorry! 'm sorry!" He apologised quickly, forcing himself to sit still, placing his hands on your hips as you slowly lowered yourself back down, moving to tuck his hair behind his ears, letting your hands rest on either side of his neck.

"Now, behave; do you hear me?" You scolded, your eyes boring into his as he nodded shakily, swallowing thickly in anticipation before you leaned in, stopping a mere inch from his lips just to tease a little for a brief moment before you closed the gap, pressing your lips to his in an open-mouthed, almost desperate kiss.

Spencer's kissing quickly got messy, his organised, precise movements becoming sloppy and desperate as he kissed you with fervour, his hands gripping at the flesh on your hips, his cock twitching in his pants as he forced himself not to fuck into you no matter how badly he wanted to.

You let your tongue slip into his mouth, the feeling making Spencer let out a muffled moan, hands tightening on your hips to ground himself as you explored his mouth, your warm tongue sliding against his, the whole thing so messy and wet, a mixture of yours and Spencer's saliva trickling down his chin.

You were the first to pull away for air, a thick string of saliva connecting your lips to his, and you couldn't help but pull your bottom lip between your teeth at the sight of him, his hair tousled, cheeks flushed, and lips swollen, red, and glossy with spit, all while his painfully hard, leaking cock throbbed against you. You simply couldn't resist grinding on him, revelling in the way his eyes fluttered closed, brows pulled together, and his jaw fell slack.

"Oh, p-please," Spencer breathed, squeezing his eyes shut tight as he struggled to compose himself as you continued to grind on him, setting a steady pace as you ran your hands down from his neck to his shoulders and back up before you leaned in, pressing a kiss to the corner of his lips before trailing down to his jaw, placing open-mouthed kisses along his jawline and down to his neck, stopping to nip and suck just below his ear, the sensation of your hot mouth on him making his hips roll into you.

Spencer couldn't resist trailing his hands under your shirt again to cup your boobs, massaging them gently in his large hands as you continued sucking red and purple marks into the smooth skin of his neck, licking over each mark as you did, tangling your hands in his hair, and tugging lightly, eliciting a moan from him as you did.

Spencer could feel an all-too-familiar feeling rising in his stomach as you rutted your hips into him at a fast pace, purposefully trying to get him to cum in his pants, and he wasn't about to stop you. The feeling of his impending orgasm completely overriding his better judgement for the mess it would make.

"I-I'm gonna-" Spencer couldn't even finish what he was saying, cutting himself off with a loud whimper as you rutted your hips particularly hard into him, a quiet moan falling from your lips, the sound making Spencer throb in his pants as he shallowly fucked into you, making sure to keep his leg completely still so you wouldn't stop your movements.

"Gonna make a mess of yourself, baby?" You husked in his ear, burying your hand in his hair and tugging at the roots, a choked whimper falling from his parted lips as he squeezed his eyes closed, his jaw falling slack.

"Mhm, d-don't stop, p-please don't stop," he mewled, rutting his cock into you as he felt his release so close he could almost taste it, letting out a constant stream of whimpers and moans as you trailed your hand around from the back of his head to rest on his throat, gradually pressing your fingertips harder into his pulse.

The feeling of your hand wrapped around his throat and the blood flow being cut off had him choking out a moan, babbling incoherently, his hands gripping your waist tightly as he shot spurts of cum into his sweatpants, completely soiling them, a slew of desperate sounds spilling from him.

"Happy now, hm? Always get your way," you murmured when you realised that you'd been hustled into giving him what he wanted, the ruse of him simply missing you clouding your judgement. Spencer couldn't even reply to you, just whining quietly, completely fucked out and pliant under you. The sight making a devious idea come to mind, a smirk tugging at your lips.

You shifted off his lap to rest on his thighs, trailing your hands down his body to stop at his hips, Spencer letting out a breath, thinking you were just sweetly touching him until you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his sweatpants, harshly tugging them down enough to free his spent cock, the cold air making him gasp and open his eyes to look at you, a confused expression on his face until you pressed your hand to his length.

"No underwear, huh? Was this what you wanted all along?" you teased, quirking your brow at him as you slowly stroked your hand up his slick shaft, spencer writhing underneath you at the feeling, your words not even registering in his mind.

"I-I c-can't 'm sensitive," he mewled, gasping and arching his back as you wrapped your hand around his sensitive tip, purposefully paying extra attention just to watch him squirm and hear him whimper.

"Thought this was what you wanted, no? You wanted me to touch you." Your tone was low as you spoke, your words making him whine as his hips stuttered away from you, your brutal touch on his oversensitive tip making him writhe under you, pathetic cries ripped from his throat as tears welled in his eyes.

"P-Please, o-oh my g-god, please, I c-can't," Spencer gasped, his cock throbbing in your hand as you pumped his length at a fast pace, pulling your bottom lip between your teeth as he panted and whimpered desperately, his hands gripping your thighs as tears spilled down his flushed cheeks, the overstimulation completely overwhelming him.

"You can, baby; I know you can; c'mon, pretty boy, cum for me," you breathed, clenching around nothing at the sight of him, his jaw slack and brows furrowed as he arched his back, his body tense and twitching as he felt his second orgasm approaching quickly.

"M g-gonna i-i mmph," he choked out, his head tipping back as he let out a quiet sob, his lips quivering and tears streaking down his neck. "That's it, baby, look at me. Wanna see that pretty face when I make you cum" you practically moaned, moving your hand from where it rested on his hip to take his face into your hand, his eyes fluttering open to look at you like you told him to.

"Good boy, such a good boy," you breathed, the praise making his cock twitch, rutting his hips into your hand as he choked out nonsense, a mix of your name and desperate pleas falling from his lips before he gasped loudly, his eyes rolling back his head and mouth dropping open as he came, making a mess of your hand and himself, his back arched towards you and hands gripping your thighs so tightly you were surprised it didn't hurt.

"That's it, baby, I've got you," you breathed, wrapping your arm around him and tugging him towards you as you continued to stroke him through his orgasm, the feeling making him let out quiet sobs into your neck as he wrapped his arms around you, his body shaking and twitching in the aftershocks of his high and the overstimulation.

You finally released his spent cock when he tried to squirm away from you, whining pitifully into your neck. "Shh shh baby," you murmured, wiping your hand on your pants before placing it on the back of his head and letting your nails lightly scratch his scalp to soothe him, a content sigh falling from his lips as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck.

"T-thank you," he breathed against your skin, his words making you croon at him, hugging him closer to you. "Too soft on you, y'know that?" You spoke as you let out a breathy laugh before you pressed a gentle kiss to his temple, your words making him huff slightly, knowing you were right.

"m sorry, just needed you so badly," he breathed into your skin, his voice laced with guilt and his tone hushed and meek, which made you coo at him. "Aw, don't be sorry, baby, can't say no to you, not when you beg so nicely," you teased, the reminder of how he begged so desperately, making him whine out of embarrassment, his cheeks blushing a dark pink.

"Let's get you cleaned up, hm?" You spoke softly, stroking his hair as he nodded into you before pulling away to look up at you with those big, pleading eyes and a pretty pout on his lips. "Will you watch Doctor Who with me after?" He asked meekly, his antics making your heart swell as you cupped his cheeks, pressing a kiss to his soft lips. "Of course I will, sweet boy," you spoke against his lips, feeling him smile before he surged forward to press his lips to yours in a passionate kiss, smiling into you, feeling like the luckiest man alive.

꩜ TAGLIST:

@cancersunthatsit @mindfullycriminal @teachugger69 @queermaxwooo @olives-and-sunshine @ac0511 @deluluforu @reidsdaisies @fliesforeyes @iluvreid @unimportantweirdo

(tagging moots bcs i'm annoying asf;)

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gretavanlace · 7 months

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Poppins (part 10)

18+ only! Minors do not interact!

Warnings: sexual content, language, angst, etc. Poppins has come to an end my lovelies, but I’ve an epilogue in store for you, so don’t despair. Also, I’m so sorry for the wait, your patience and understanding means so much to me and I appreciate and adore you all xoxo❤️

“Just ignore him,” Josh breathes unsteadily, lapping against your neck like he can’t stand to exist another second without the essence of you blazing a languid path over his tongue. “He’ll go away.”

A louder, more insistent knock sounds out, as if in argument. As if to say, ‘that’s what you think! I’m not going anywhere!’.

“Oh my god,” you squirm beneath him, but not in the way he would like, not the way you were just moments ago. “It’s like you two have some sort of bat signal for interruption.”

A sharp laugh sounds out of him, open and honest. Beautiful, and so very Josh. “I can assure you, sweetheart, the last thing in the world I want right now, is my fucking brother at the door. Lemme get rid of him.”

He rises reluctantly and walks backwards, fingers fumbling to fasten his pants and adjust himself, eyes on you while you slide up into a more presentable position and attempt to smooth your hair.

“It’s no use, love…” he flashes that blinding grin of his, pairing it with a wicked wink, “he’s going to know you’re wet and up to no good. You look gorgeously desperate.”

You feel your cheeks color further as you contemplate running off to hide in the kitchen. He’s obscene, and the effect that it has on you is concerning. Your entire body is wired up tight and thrumming. You’d crawl to him, should he hook a finger in your direction.

Your traitorous brain conjures that image - you, on your hands and knees, making your way closer to him, to his cock. You want him in your mouth. You want him to press into your throat, to make you gag, to shape you into something filthy for him. Something pretty on her knees ready to give without thought, should he ask.

The knock sounds out again, snapping you out of your salacious daydream. You’re reluctant to leave it, but bid farewell anyway.

“Shut up!” Josh shouts, slipping effortlessly into sibling mode as he twists the locks and cracks open the door.

He’s gearing up to tell his twin to fuck off, it’s evident in his stance and by the way he wedges his foot against the wood, like Jake might decide to push his way in - but in a breath, he swings the door open wide.

“Hey, baby,” the affectionate greeting tells you all you need to know - Jacob isn’t alone. “What are you doing up so late?”

Jake saunters in, winding around Josh, with a wide awake Lily on his hip - who is barefoot, dressed in a frilly, purple princess nightgown, and clinging to her beloved uncle. She shrugs and drops her head to his shoulder.

“Mom told me not to let her fall asleep on me,” Jake runs a soothing palm up and down her tiny back. “Said she’d wake up as soon as I tried to put her in bed. I’m tired of that woman constantly being right about everything.”

“Wanted to come home.” Lil hushes in her soft little girl voice, “I didn’t want you to be all by yourself.”

“Ah,” Josh waves off her concern and leans in to sweep a kiss onto the crown of her head, “you don’t have to worry about daddy, Lily-bit. I’m tough as nails.”

Jake’s eyes are locked in on you over their exchange, flashing with gleeful accusations. Josh is as right as his mother always seems to be - Jake knows exactly what he’s walked in on, and he is delighted to have stopped it in its tracks.

“And just look, lil…” he grins, clearly enjoying himself, as well as your furious blushing, a great deal. “Daddy’s not all by himself, Poppins is here to keep him company!”

She swivels her head around lightening fast, eyes thrilled and round with surprise.

“Hi!” Her greeting comes as a squealing chirp as she scrambles down out of Jake’s grasp in order to hustle into yours.

“Hi, Lil,” you gather her up into your lap and finger comb her tangles, while she settles in, smelling of no tear shampoo and sleep. “What are you doing out on the town at this hour, you little party animal?”

“Jakey drove me,” suddenly her face is close to yours, nose to nose, as she confides, “he turned the radio up loud like I like ‘cause I promised not to tell Daddy.”

You’ve yet to meet a child who possesses the ability to properly whisper, and Lily is no different.

“Jake,” comes Josh’s stern admonishment.

His brother cuts him off at the pass, “The Shining, man, you let my angelic, perfectly innocent niece watch the Shining.”

“I didn’t let her, I—“ he interrupts himself with a huff of irritation. “Thank you for bringing her home.”

At the faint hint of a goodbye, Lily is clambering off your lap as quickly as she arrived. “No, uncle Jakey, stay stay stay!”

When her tiny hand tucks itself away within his own, every heart in the room knows the battle has been lost.

“Alright, girly,” he crouches down and cups her chipmunk cheek. “I’ll stay, but you have to promise to go to bed. You need your sleep so you can rest that big, bright brain and wake up ready to learn brand new things tomorrow.”

He could have so easily reminded her of ‘beauty sleep’, but he chose to emphasize her insatiable thirst for knowledge instead, and you love him for it.

“I’ll try,” she shakes her head solemnly, “but I dunno, I’m pretty awake. Feels like morning.”

Your eyes have wandered to Josh, watching him as he watches them. There is that completely laid bare devotion that you’ve always seen, but also, something new…or at least, something you’ve never noticed before.

Wistful indebtedness is the only way to describe it, though even that seems to fall short. He is beholden to them both - unflinchingly, and for very different reasons.

Likely, it isn’t new at all…maybe you’ve just never looked hard enough.

He has told you as much before, but now you are seeing it unmasked for the very first time; he would lay down his life for his brother, without thought. He looks at Jake as though he blazed the sun to life with his own calloused hands - and when you think about it, that is exactly what he did for Josh all those nights ago, when they stood shoulder to shoulder, staring through the nursery window. Jake had given Lily to Josh, and lit up his whole world, bright as the sun.

Tears are clutching at your throat, but you shake them off and extend a hand out to Lily to make her an offer she can’t refuse “How about a princess bath, Lily-bit?”

Jake is forgotten in an instant at the promise of a princess bath, and she scurries over to grab your hand with the ardor only a child flying high on their second wind seems to be capable of. “Can I have bubbles and flower water?”

“Of course,” you promise, as though it should have been a given, silently praying that the little amber bottle that lives in the medicine cabinet is full of the lavender drops that will turn ordinary tap water into flower water.

A princess bath is reserved for very special occasions, and certainly, being awake so late into the night after an unexpected drive through the sleeping streets of town with the radio cranked up way too loud, ranks a special occasion.

“C’mon, daddy,” she grabs his hand as well, trudging through the room, on a mission to be pampered…and you catch sight of Jake settling down onto the couch to wait, over your shoulder.

It feels like abandonment somehow, leaving him like this. Alone.

But Lily is chattering on, and your attention is quickly refocused as you work alongside Josh to make her happy. More importantly, to relax her enough to wrangle her into bed and lull her to sleep with a story.

It takes less effort than you had originally feared it might, and soon you’re creeping from her wildly chaotic bedroom while he quietly reads her a story - complete with changing character voices and much enthusiasm - stepping carefully over dinosaurs that rest, reptilian feet and winding tails stretching toward the ceiling, next to half dressed baby dolls and toppled towers of blocks.

Josh is adamant about instilling responsibility, and while she is given regular tasks and age appropriate chores, he insists her space is her own, and has never once, in your presence, ordered her to pick up her toys from her own floor. The living room floor? Daily. But he never dictates her space.

The way he sees her as a person is one of your most beloved ways to watch him parent. So many forget that children are people with thoughts and feelings, who are lacking the skill set to navigate the world properly…that they need guidance, not policing. Josh never forgets that. Josh sees Lily.

There is a soft smile ghosting over your lips listening to him read to her when you step into the hall to find Jake leaned against the wall like some long-haired James Dean minus the popped collar and casual cigarette.

He cocks his chin in the direction of the backyard and then pushes off with the heel of his boot to swagger down the hallway “Come have a look at the stars with me, babe.”

You follow behind him, feeling a little like a lost puppy, but damned if you know how to do anything but follow these two men - so beautifully alike, yet so achingly different.

“What were you smiling about back there, pretty girl?” He asks, rasping words into the night the second the two of you settle onto the framed porch swing that graces the deck.

“He’s so good with her,” you’re smiling again, remembering. “I don’t know, it makes me smile. I want her to be happy and loved. Strong and fierce. He’s going to make sure that happens. It just…” you offer a little shrug as his hand finds yours in the dark, “it makes me smile, that’s all.”

His head lulls to the side in your peripheral vision, watching you “You love her.”

“I do.” You confirm with a slight nod, not trusting yourself to look at him. “Very much.”

“I love her, too.” He whispers, and finally, you turn to catch his eye.

“I know, Jake.

“You love him.” He’s no longer whispering, his words come fainter .

Your response squeezes painfully out of your tightened throat, “I love you, too.”

His reply mirrors yours that came before, “I know, poppins.”

It is silent for a long stretch before he breaks it, “Did he tell you? How all this came to be?” A soft chuckle precedes the joke he makes to lighten the heavy, “the tale of the Kiszka Twins and the fucked up ways we fuck up?”

You ignore his joke, and address it for what it was: something serious masked as frivolity “Do you think you fucked up, Jake? What you did? Do you regret it?”

Again, there is a pause, and you allow him all the time he needs.

“Sometimes.” He takes a deep breath. “I love her so much it feels like something separate from myself. Some sort of being in and of itself. Like there’s me over here, and then my love for that little girl over there. Because it’s just so great that there isn’t room inside my body for it all, you know? Does that make sense?”

He doesn’t wait for an answer, “Yeah, sometimes I get selfish and regret it a little. Sometimes she looks at me with such adoration, such fucking complete devotion and all of a sudden, I want her all to myself. I want to grab her up and run away with her in my arms. But it always goes away just as fast as it comes, that selfishness…he’ll walk in the room and her eyes will light up. Or they’ll share some silly inside joke that I don’t get. Or she’ll ask a question and he’ll see it as a moment to teach her, where I would’ve just answered it…he’s her father and that’s the way it should be. He was always meant to be her dad.”

You’re cradling his hand in both of yours now, soothing your thumbs across his knuckles “You think? Like an everything happens for a reason kind of thing?”

“You look at those two together and tell me what happened didn’t happen for a reason.”

You raise his hand and press a kiss to the back of it, before sweeping your cheek against the knob of his wrist, “I don’t know how to handle all of this. Or what to do with you two. It’s like I can’t separate you in my head. I don’t want to choose. I won’t.”

“Now who’s selfish?” He laughs lightly, wiggling his fingers that are still laced and wound around yours.

“I’m sorry.” A gentle sob shakes your shoulders, and for a moment you wonder how you ended up here. How strange.

“Don’t be sorry, Mary Poppins,” his foot kicks out, swinging you both back and forth in the moonlight, “I’m not sorry, and I won’t make you choose. Can I tell you a secret?”

Lifting your head away from his hand, there is reluctance - his skin feels right pressed against your own, and you hate to part from it “I don’t know that I can handle any more Kiszka secrets.”

A laugh, much too loud for the hour, bubbles out of him “Sure you can, babe. I’ve already decided for you. I won’t leave tonight, because I promised girly I’d stay, but I’m gone in the morning, and I’ll see you when I see you.”

“What?” Is it that you really don’t understand his meaning, or that you don’t want to understand it?

He hums a little tune and rests his head on your shoulder, hushing soft lyrics into the air as he swings gently, “Bye bye, baby, it’s been a sweet love…”

“Jake—“

“Isn’t that what you called me? Free bird?” His beautiful face tilts up and then there is his nose, nuzzling your cheek tenderly, his touch far more innocent than you’ve ever known it to be before. “It’s time for me to go, and it’s time for you to stay.”

You’re prepared to fight, but for what, you’re unsure, “I know what you’re doing. You’re choosing for him just like you did with that goddamned band you guys had.”

Now it’s his turn for confusion. He sits up in order to get a good look at your face and prods you along with raised eyebrows.

“Your mom told me. What you did for Josh because you knew music wasn’t what he wanted. How you gave it up to make him happy.” You’re spinning out of control just a little, but you can’t be sure why. Isn’t this what you wanted? An easy solution?

It just suddenly so seems tragic. He’s given so much to Josh, and here he sits, giving still.

“Fuckin’ Karen,” his laughter is quieter still, and blurred sadly around the edges. “She’s got a big mouth, that one. She’s right though, I did give it up for him. You, on the other hand, are wrong.”

You so badly want to reach out and stroke your fingers through his hair, he feels like mist, like a ghost who is already gone. A memory who sits before you. But you think it’s best to let him speak, and so you do.

“I’m not leaving for him. I’m leaving for her.” As if he can read your thoughts, his fingers card through your hair. “You love me and you love him and both of us love you back and it’s this convoluted fucking disaster, but none of that matters. She matters. And honestly, babe, it’s not even that hard to walk away because it’s for her. She deserves someone who thinks of shit like princess baths, and someone to fix her hair pretty for her first day of school. Someone who’s going to know what to say to her when she doesn’t feel good enough, or smart enough. Someone who won’t get flustered and weird when she starts her period, or needs her first bra,” he shudders a little at that and it makes you smile. “Someone who will know how to make her heart hurt a little less the first time some idiot boy makes her cry. Someone who will know what to do in a million other moments that I can’t even name because I’ll never be that person for her, and neither will he. She needs a mom. She needs you.”

“Don’t you think you’re putting the cart before the horse, Jacob?” You ask, though you don’t feel the conviction you’re desperately trying to color your words with.

“No, I don’t.” He’s never sounded so sure of himself, and that is a feat, as Jake is almost always sure of himself. “Not at all. You belong here. With her. With him. And I belong god knows where, playing for pretty girls who will never be you.”

“I love you, Jake.” You’ve said it already tonight, out here amongst the crickets and the dewy grass that could use a trim, but this devotional feels like the last.

His arm stretches out to pull you in “But you love him, too, don’t you, babe?”

“Yes,” And that is the truth…

He presses a kiss against your temple “And you love her?”

“More than both of you combined. More than myself.” And that is the truth, too.

“Well, then, Mary Poppins,” he sighs as you sway in the swing, the muted creak of its chains keeping time. “It seems we’re on the same page.”

“Will it really be so easy for you to walk away?” You can’t help but hope there will be at least a hint of melancholy in his tone…but there is nothing but content in his reply.

“For Lily? Yes. The easiest thing in the world.”

When you wake, it is with Josh curled up warm and snug around you. He soothes your soul like a security blanket. And even given the events just hours before, you feel serene…like you’re floating through calm, perfumed waters with tranquil skies overhead.

You hear him, of course you do, his voice will always perk your ears, you suspect - and maybe that’s okay.

Yes, you hear him. Speaking to her gently, giggling with her, singing to her, telling fanciful stories of what he’ll get up to on the road.

You listen to him remind her of how smart she is, how grand her heart is. He makes her promise to call him all the time, and to give uncle Sammy grief every chance she gets.

He says, “Listen to your daddy, girly, and make Poppins laugh at least once a day, just for me.”

…and then, with a click of the front door, he is gone.

Tears threaten in your eyes, but then there she is, climbing up onto the bed with Josh’s mangled maroon shirt clutched dutifully at her side.

“Can you make me pancakes?” She asks, crawling through the sea of blankets…and you smile, because you can make her pancakes. Of course you can.

Taglist: @gretasintrees @greta-van-chaos @celestialfauna @s0livagant @groggyvanfleet @kiszkathecook @brokenbellz @llightmyllovee @doodle417 @seventieswhore @jake-kiszkas-smirk @weightofdreams-gvf @imdepressedaf1996 @alisonwonderland29 @gretavanfleas @gretavangroove @sparrowofthedawn @xserenax-13 @tbagggvf @obetrolncocktails @tripthelightfandomtastic @jakeslovehandles @poofyloofy @70sgroupielovr @heatmyfleet @age-of-nyahh @sammiboo162 @spicedandicedtea @jakekiszkasleftnutsack @saoirsemaeve @mywickeddivinity @thelvnternskeeper @paintmyhouse @tripthelight-fanfic @mckenna4 @theweightofjake @thewritingbeforesunrise @joshsmama @sammysvanfeet @rhythm-of-space @highladyofasgard @jordie-gvf-admin @calumspretty @sunfl0wer-power @sad1lynn @gvfpal @gretavangroupie @starcatcher-jake @demolitionndann @hugorobinson @jaketlove

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chrollohearttags · 11 months

Text

𝐂𝐨𝐦𝐦𝐢𝐬𝐬𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐬 𝐂𝐨𝐫𝐧𝐞𝐫 • 𝐇𝐁𝐈𝐂

synopsis: the head of a notorious fraternity decides to go toe to toe with the student council president after a very heated hearing.

content warning: black fem reader, soft dom Phinks, choking, deep missionary, unintentional creampie, praise kink, make up sex, fingering, use of bitch and bastard.

this is the second installment in the HunterxHunter collegeverse commission from @annie-franny. I thank you so much for your support and patience on these. I am so incredibly sorry it has taken this long but I really hope that it has been worth it. I’ve loved working on this series and I can’t wait to finish the final one as well.

wc: 4.7K

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“Miss president, the council is waiting for you. Right this way.”

“Thank you.”

The short exchange took place between (y/n) (l/n) and one the twelve members of the Yorknew State University Student Council. The dozen, hand selected co-eds, who’ve exhibited exemplary behavior among their peers, as well as maintained exceptional grades..all to be considered among the upper echelon. You were held to a much higher standard than the rest of the student body. Because of this, it was your job to maintain order and hold others to the same standards. Who better than to cast judgment, critique and friendly advice than the very same people they’d attend class with? Besides, with a fellow student, the chances of facing true consequences for their actions were slim to none, right? At least that’s the way it was until (y/n) (l/n) came along. Ruling the campus with an iron fist and keeping order when others refused to. You had been coined ‘The Ice Queen’ for how intolerant you were to your cohort’s behavior. It could’ve been chalked up to the fact that you were used to being the one who constantly watched others get away with so much whilst you had to walk on eggshells to even get a fraction of the accolades they were handed. Hence why you had no interest in showing mercy when it came to passing down punishment. Today’s hearing was no exception..

“Miss President, the defendants should be arriving shortly. Please, take your seat.”

“This is already a waste of my time as far as I’m concerned so they might want to make it quick. Has everyone been briefed on the situation?”

Receiving a nod from your subordinate as you both made your way over to the plush chairs; regal-like decorations scattered about the room. A Victorian-esque interior lining the walls and providing a dark academia aesthetic. Dressed in your normal council uniform attire; a blue blazer, plaid skirt, black leggings and flats, you’d toss the freshly styled box braids over your shoulder, checking your lip gloss over once more and crossing your legs, (y/n) proceeded to open the black binder sitting before you as you began sifting through the papers clamped in them. On the docket today? “Bring him in.” soon the old, rustic doors to the entrance would open and a fellow scholar appeared. Tall with distinct facial features, blonde wefts combed over to the right..dressed in a black button down, gray slacks with a gold plated belt buckle and a small matching chain dangling from his neck, along with a wristwatch. Another rich boy prick probably expecting to walk in here unbothered and walk right out unscathed. No consequences for their actions whatsoever. Unfortunately for him and the others currently filling the room..you had other plans! Hell, because several members of said fraternity had given you a hard time in the past, maybe you’d make a nice little example out of them.

“Mr. Magcub..you and your fellow fraternity brothers are here on accusations of defamation of school property, reckless endangerment and misappropriation of funds. How does the accused plead? Speak..one at a time.” Once issuing your orders, the four gentlemen stood in a straight line, heads to the ground and faces scrunched into a scowl. As if they were angry kids being chastised by their mother. Too bad, this was the result of their very childish actions. They’d lean up to the tall blonde and whisper something before he’d wave them off entirely. Rather, he’d take a step forward and bow his head. As if he were truly remorseful. And yet, what followed were a string of not guilty pleas. So typical. Crossing your arms, you’d scoff and proceed to flip to the next page of your notes. Then, he’d proceed to speak once more.

“Ms. (L/N), on behalf of the Alpha Phi Delta fraternity, I’d like to offer my sincerest apologies for the destruction, pain and problems that myself and my fellow brothers have caused. As their leader, responsibility rests solely on my shoulders and I am willing to atone purely on my lonesome. So as long as my brothers will be spared any repercussions.." Having heard of your reputation and how brutal you were when laying down the hammer, it wasn’t a fate that Phinks would wish on anyone but it was a burden he was willing to bear entirely on his shoulders. Because that’s the type of man he was..a true leader and a stand up guy. Because you’d have no way of knowing this, but the property damage? Faulty electrical in their house almost started a fire so rather than bothering the one sole maintenance worker, who was stacked to the brim with repair requests already, Phinks decided to take matters into his own hands and hopefully teach his privileged frat brothers a thing or two about hard work. Where he came from, if you wanted the job done, you rolled up your sleeves and got to it. It damn sure wasn’t handed to you on a silver platter. However, they had a few hiccups and put a couple of holes into the wall of the main corridor. Reckless endangerment? one of the four standing there decided to mess around while another was on a ladder, doing some patchwork; causing the boy to fall, resulting in a brief hospital stent and a broken arm. And for the misappropriation of funds? Well, all a dumb misunderstanding and honestly, a mistake. They probably should’ve consulted an actual electrician but instead, Phinks utilized the knowledge he gained from working at his father’s own electric company as a teen and decided to take the two grand to Home Depot and do it all on his own. If anything, his only crime was being too damn stubborn and cheap to hire professionals! However, that wasn’t going to cut it..

“Gentleman, I trust that you all understand the severity of these accusations. At YorkNew University, we hold ourselves to a higher standard..we do not tolerate nor accept such trivial and downright dumb behavior. Regardless of the circumstances, what you all did could have resulted in much more bodily harm than it already has. Or something far worse. These are matters that should have been brought up to your superiors rather than taken into your own hands. I’m not only angered but extremely disappointed. As a leader and president, Mr. Magcub, I would expect you to implore far better common sense and yet, you neglected to do so…” as he stood there, listening to you scold him in front of his peers, the entire room fell silent..without so much a single whisper. And no one with half a brain would dare interrupt you either. You were ruthless and practically inconsolable when you got on these rampages. There truly was no stopping you, honestly. Yet, Phinks couldn’t help but to respect and empathize with you. He knew how rough you had it with some of these students and how a few of them even resented you for your punishments but you had no choice. Especially when said accused have been getting away scot free their entire lives. Tossing daddy’s money at the problem and expecting it to go away. You were sick of it..little did you know, that wasn’t the case with Phinks. He was the furthest thing from. Even so, it wasn’t going to sway you in the slightest nor would it change how you were going to proceed with this..

“..as it stands, I hereby call for the indefinite suspension of Mr. Magcub and his immediate resignation as president of Alpha Phi Delta. Meeting adjourned, thank you all for your time.”

the words couldn’t even make it out of your mouth good before the entire place erupted. Audible gasps, slamming of books from your fellow council members and the four frat brothers, raising hell on the floor below you. If anyone had ever encountered the Ice Queen, then they knew your word was absolute and that there was no changing your mind. Standing from the chair; dutifully pulled out by one of the male cohorts, you’d proceed to get up but were quickly interrupted by shouting from the others. “You can’t do this, lady!” “Yeah, he was only trying to help! You can’t kick him out over a fucking mistake.” Still, you stood firm and your decision was absolute. Despite all of their ranting and complaining..the only one seeming to understand that was Phinks himself..or so you thought! With his head still hung low, he’d wave an arm up to his brothers as to silence the riled up trio. “It’s fine, boys. Really. That’s a part of life. Owning up to your mistakes and facing the consequences, I get it. Don’t worry about it..” but the second you’d turn on your heel, thinking the ‘former’ frat president had accepted his fate lying down, he’d hit you with another surprise:

“I have a question though, Miss President..or should I say (y/n ‘s nickname)..since when did you become such a bitch?” Soon, everyone was glaring at the two of you as if they had heard some shocking revelation. And truthfully, it was..for you at least! It was like a shot to the gut hearing that former childhood nickname being hurled at you because as far as you had known..there was only one person in your entire life to refer to you by it. Even so, you had to remain poised and professional. Stand firm within your ruling and not little petty, trivial cheap shots sway you either. Dismissing the remainder of the council members, (y/n) stood near the door; arms folded and guarded as the room dissipated to only yourself, Phinks and his frat brothers. That was until he ordered them to leave and said he’d catch up later. Once the two of you were officially alone, you’d lock the door and resume your discussion without pause. You had a few questions of your own but first…you’d gladly answer his.

“Who the hell do you think you are?…calling me a bitch? Talking to me and throwing out silly nicknames as if we’re old acquaintances. Have you lost your goddamn mind?”

spewing the words with pure vitriol and anger. Your plump lips curled into a scowl as he glared at you with that signature stupid smirk on his face. You hated him…hated him for making you look like a damn fool in front of your peers and embarrassing you. But Phinks was quite unbothered by the entire matter because he saw right through that facade. Through the big words, tough exterior and iron fists. When he looked at you..all he could see was that little girl with the curly afro puffs that used to be parted into buns atop your head as the two of you explored the neighborhood. The one who he used to play with until your parents had to all but drag you back in the house..and the girl he became a man with in his senior year of high school..losing his virginity together with the only woman he’d ever trusted. Holding hands as he claimed your sweet flower for his own. Kissing you softly on his bed as he begged you to stay quiet out of fear of someone hearing the two of you. Wiping your tears when that proverbial cherry popped..telling you to scratch his back if it ever hurts. The best night of his life, if he were being frank and yours as well. But somehow, that all changed when the two of you went to college. When he began so foolishly neglecting his best friend for others and soon, you were nothing more than an afterthought. Telling you he loved you only to allow another girl on top of him shortly thereafter. That heartbreak manifested to pure hatred for not just these other petulant students, but men entirely. For Phinks and anyone who reminded you of him. You wanted them to suffer and when you finally got your opportunity to enact revenge on the sole scorner of your fragile heart, you laid down the hammer without so much as a second thought. Even though you were never dating, it still stung and it was a wound that never healed. Still..he wasn’t about to let you and your lust for power get him booted out over a simple misunderstanding!

“You can drop the whole wicked mistress act, it’s just you and I here, alright? No need to be so uptight, sweetheart.” That deep tone of his vibrating throughout your body as he stepped forward..bridging the gap of space between you. As he approached, you caught a whiff of that cologne radiating from him. Tom Ford. A far cry from the Axe he used to practically bathe in when he was younger. Truthfully, it was all he could afford. His entire demeanor had shifted, quite honestly. He seemed so mature..so poised..so handsome. The Phinks you knew would’ve never stood for such an injustice and would’ve been throwing things around the room but for (y/n)? He was a different man. One who had spent the past two years contemplating the actions of his dumb mistakes. Not just with the frat but in general. The fact that he all but abandoned you the second he touched campus soil. Wanting to fit in and find a different crowd so badly, he forgot the one person who had always been there. You were bitter and rightfully so. But if he could do anything to rectify it..it’d be right here and now. Because it would be nearly impossible to ever have this access to you again so he’d make his shot count!

“I’m sorry, (y/n). Sorry for humiliating you like that and calling you out of your name but I knew it’d be the only way to get your attention. The only way you’d respond is if I pushed your buttons. I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings.” “A little too late for that, don’t you suppose?” Still stoic and stonewalled as ever. Turning your face in the opposite direction so that you didn’t have to look at him. But like always, he got the better of you. Running a finger underneath your chin, he’d tip your head up and twist it back towards him so he could glare into your eyes. Far past your soul as he had such a horrible habit of doing. Smooth talking and charming his way out of it. By now, you were pressed against the end of a nearby table and he was closing in on you..softly caressing your cheek in the process. “I see you’re still wearing the necklace I got you. Can’t believe you kept it after all this time.” Referring to the thin gold chain and heart locket dangling from around your neck that he gifted you for your seventeenth birthday and still at twenty one years old, you were still sporting it. Along with the scars and pain he left on your fragile heart. Scars he wanted to heal right here and now..

“(Y/N)..listen to me. I can’t turn back time. I can’t erase what I did in the past but I’m trying my damnedest every single day to become a better man for it. I know you’ll probably never forgive me and I don’t expect you to, that would be selfish..but I hope that you can at least hate me a little less. I don’t want you bearing this feeling forever. Not because of my stupidity..”

with your faces only a few inches apart, you’d glare; transfixed on his eyes as yours welled with tears. Hard as you may have tried, you couldn’t bring yourself to not be infuriated. So much so, you’d smack him with an open palm across his right cheek. Unable to contain those overflowing emotions. The tears, the anger, the pure, raw passion that you had for him. That never faded after all that time! “You bastard..how dare you? How dare you leave me and then come back after all this time? I missed you so fucking much and you just left—“ by now, you had broken into full blown hysterics, inconsolable being back in the arms of the one and only man you had brought yourself to love. Rather than meeting your melodramatics with more hostility, he’d simply cusp your cheek into his hand and bring you towards him for a searing kiss that caused your words to trail off into nothing more than a muffled whimper. In that split second, your entire world seemed to have come to that of a complete stand still. Frozen right there in his grasp and when you finally came back to reality, you didn’t want to end..without so much as another word exchanged between the two of you, Phinks reeled you back in, this time deepening the smooch and bridging the gap between your bodies. By now, there wasn’t a single other soul in the vicinity to witness this spectacle. Or to interrupt it for that matter. Regardless of the fact that the two of you had just been in the midst of a heated dispute moments ago, and now, attempting to disrobe the other, it was apparent that whatever feelings you had for one another were still as strong and that once dormant flame of passion was burning brighter than before.

his hands roaming your body, yours trailing his…it was all a blur but finally, Phinks found himself shirtless and you working away at his belt buckle when he came to. But he was quick to halt you..as he had plans of his own. “Wait, sweetheart. Stop..” “What do you mean? Are you—“ however, before you could complete whatever rant you were about to partake in, he’d press a finger to your lip, instructing you to be quiet. “Don’t..don’t speak. Please..”’Even taking it a step further and allowing you to suckle on his fingertip. Normally, if a man had said such a thing to you, it’d be literal hell to pay. But something about Phinks and that gentle, domineering nature of his always threw you into submission..as much as you hated it! “Just let me make things right, okay?” Slowly, that same finger trailed south and to your own top, unfastening the buttons one by one as you watched along with bated breath. Your chest heaving with every passing moment as your skin became exposed to the cool air wafting throughout the room’s ventilation. Shortly thereafter, becoming marked by the curvature of his soft lips. All the while, tracing his fingertips up your bare legs. Which he’d prop on the table and spread apart. “Do you have any idea..how long, I’ve waited to have you in my arms again, (y/n)? To say I’m sorry for being so shitty? For making you feel less than your worth?” Amid his speech, his fingers would make haste in hooking around those thin lace panties you were wearing and pull them back. Exposing your warm and dripping sex to the cool air as well..you’d suck your teeth when he made slight contact with your clit. Biting your lip as you’d watch him carefully. “But I won’t be so stupid this time, I promise.” Before you knew it, you found yourself filled to the brim with one of his thick fingers, releasing a loud gasp in response. Sliding down, you’d begin gently rock on those digits.

“So just lay back and let me take care of you, alright? Don’t worry about anything..” closing your eyes whilst you let him overtake your body. Holding dominion over you in ways you could never imagine. Merely listening to the sound of his voice to get yourself off, not to mention being impaled on his middle and index. The tight bundle of nerves becoming undone by a few pushes to your g-spot. Meanwhile, your nipples lie dormant in his mouth, gently suckled...flipped around by his tongue and kissed by his lips. Eventually, allowing them to trail back up to your neck. Muttering into your ear with a smirk plastered his face. “You remember that night after graduation..when you let me finger you in the backseat of my old Camaro?..I recall that night so vividly. You looked just like this..so cute and innocent. Just begging me to keep going..” sweetly taunting you with his thumb parting your lips. “It was the first time we had complete privacy, without having to cover our mouths. And we were being so damn loud. I swear, you had the prettiest moans.” Making you both begin to laugh, reminiscing on those times. He continued to speak when all you could muster were muffled whimpers. “You got so wet for me..damn, you were so wet..” “..yeah, and I freaked out because you made me squirt for the first time and thought I had done something else.” Prompting you both to laugh about it. The memory unlocked something inside of him that drove the tall jock to sink his fingers further and even grunt. “Yes…fuck. I couldn’t forget. You had my seats covered in it but it was kinda my fault. I couldn’t stop fucking you. You just felt too good.” Nibbling at your ear with that slick grin before pressing deeper and mashing your very swollen clit with his thumb..making slow circles until your head fell backwards. Which he’d tug back up with a gentle hand, staring you right in the eyes.

“Which is why I’m going to do it again.” Declaring as those digits continued pumping in and out, drawing forth high pitched wails and plenty of juices..never had a man made you feel the way this one had. And as quiet as it was all kept, you had no use of interest in anyone else other than Phinks. There was something about him that drew out your softest energy; made you feel safe and protected, not to mention free to be yourself. “I’m going to make love to you right here and now..because I don’t want to spend another second being apart from you, (y/n). Two years..two long years. I missed you.” The tone in his voice causes your legs to tremble on instinct. The sheer pleading and desperation doing something to you. But before you had a chance to truly gather your bearings..he was already another step ahead. With his pants shuffled to his waist, unfastened and unbuckled, you could spot his exposed pelvis but once he withdrew those fingers, you found yourself filled with his cock instead. “Hnghh! Oh God..” eliciting a loud cry from your lips which were muffled by his own as that swollen tip made its way inside of your entrance. (Y/N) was heaving, trembling and clawing at his shirt whilst holding him close. Your legs spread wide and placed atop his shoulder as Phinks eventually tucked the end of his shirt between his teeth, holding it out of the way so that he could get a perfect glimpse of his cock sliding in and out of that wet warmth..coating him with the two gentle strokes that he had already given. Whining from the sensation of “Shh..it’s alright, baby...” cooing to you quietly. He could tell that you were still having some trouble taking him so he’d go as slow as possible. Letting you become acclimated to his size again. Meanwhile, a sheath of silky cream began dripping down his shaft as he was able to work a few more inches in. Wiping those stray tears away in the process. “..just like our first time, angel. You’re so tight..you’re with me now, where you belong.” It’s that sentence alone that allowed you to open up and unclench for him, allowing him a little more room to maneuver. Feeding you those deep strokes at a steady pace. Your eyes averted down to watch him go in and out.

“Phinks…I—I’m so sor—“ but before the words could leave your lips, he was halfway to the hilt, grunting and pulling you further into his grasp. And now, forming a slight bulge in the pit of your tummy. “No..don’t you dare apologize. This is my fault. All me, baby. But I’m gonna make it—up to you, I promise. Will you let me do that?” Practically pleading as the grip of that pussy began to take its toll on the frat leader. He was a strong, stoic and tough guy. Epitome of a stereotypical jock or athlete when it came to braun. But as with anyone, Phinks had his Achilles heel and you were most certainly it. He became weak and quite frankly, pathetic when you were in the mix. He couldn’t contain himself..losing all semblance of control with no regrets. So much so, his voice began to crack and that once established rhythm sped to sporadic stroking; some sharp and others all over the place. “You can take me, baby. C’mon. Let me have it..let me have that pussy, please.” By this time, the table underneath your bodies was rattling around, knocking against the wall. Your skirt was flipped to your stomach and your breasts were jiggling wildly, from your unfastened shirt. “Mmm! Please..don’t stop. Take it, this is yours..fuck!” That sentence alone forced him to lose it. Clutching a hand around your throat, he’d shove his tongue into your mouth and pound you until he began pulsating through those walls. Your flesh cusps him and refuses to let him go..which led to something neither of you expected:

“Oh God! (Y/N)..fuck!” Crying out with a guttural moan, Phinks’ hard pounding ceased all together and before you knew it..he had you filled to the brim with his cum. That warm, milky load stuffed and nestled inside of you as if he wouldn’t dare put it anywhere else. The two of you stared in shock before bursting into laughter, examining the aftermath. “Jesus, (y/n)..I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean—oh fuck, you felt so much better than I remember. I just couldn’t help myself.`` But you didn’t hold it against him too much. In fact, you thought it was quite funny and you liked the sensation a little more than you’d expect. Leaning down, gently stroking your clit, you’d watch it seep out onto the wooden furniture. “It’s okay..I’ll be fine.” Planting a kiss to his lips as he worked to regain his composure. Tilting his chin up so that you could stare at him as you uttered your next words. “Hey…I love you, Phinks. I always have.” “I know, gorgeous. And I love you more. I promise I’ll never leave your side again.” Still resting inside of you whilst your bodies remained close. He never wanted this moment to end or to be apart from you that long ever again. However, there was still one order of business that you two had to sort out…

“So about this resignation..you seriously gonna kick me out?”

batting those eyes at you as if they would change your mind but the previous events may have definitely softened your heart just a tad bit.

“Meet me in my dorm later for round two and we might be able to work something out.”

“If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were propositioning me, ma’am.”

but all in all, it seemed that things were finally on better terms with the two of you and you were thankful because being apart from the only man meant for you was exhausting!

“Well sir, it’s a good thing that you do. Now help me up.”

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hearteyes-for-killmonger · 5 months

Text

I said November and I didn't lie to y'all see? Update.

-9- Ties that Bind

As for the birds, Dawn followed them to a clear spring where she refilled her canteen and picked from a grove of fresh fruit until the birds swooped down, blinding her with their wings. She dropped her collection to shield her face and the fruit burst, spilling a sickly yellow fluid with a foul scent like putrid pus. If she had eaten that shit... She sighed, hungry. Why the hell was she in the middle of the forest again? Find him, her brain replied. Find him quickly and trust the birds.

She followed them day and night, ending up in an open clearing the size of a football field. Wildflowers and overgrowth stretched on creating a scene that she'd never found in the concrete jungle of New York. It was open and beautiful, but that left less places to hide.

There, in the distant line of trees, stood a shadowed figure that she nearly missed until she did a double take. Spotted, he stepped forward. It was the man she'd been combing the forest for. She wasn't as prepared as her mind tricked her into believing. Her breath caught. Comparing the angles of his face to the images in reoccurring visions, he was exactly as she recalled. She'd gotten it right down to the detail. His crimson eyes beamed like lights, and the only change in his appearance was his locs, which had grown to his shoulders.

Within a blink, he was but a yard away as though he'd never moved. Dawn felt a sudden tinge of fear like she was standing on thin ice in the dead of winter with danger lurking beneath the frozen surface. She was hesitant to blink. It was a fleeting feeling that wouldn't bloom enough to be addressed. As soon as she felt it, it left. She didn't understand why, nor did the thought linger.

"It's smaller than you'd think, but constantly changing," Dawn replied, the uncanny feeling once again on the backburner. "These your birds?"

"You're alone."

N'Jadaka looked to the clear orange sky as the sounds of the forest amplified through the silence. He'd assumed that his compulsion would eat at her a little longer before she caved, a few more years perhaps.

"Is the outside world so frivolous?"

Or was his compulsion just that strong?

N'Jadaka's attention remained on the changing orange sky as the sun was gradually setting.

Dawn took a bold step forward, looking at his upturned eyes. He was still with no visible change or response. It made her her feel impatient. She'd come so far.

"Okay...," Dawn squinted. She didn't care for being ignored. "You did something to me," she accused. "I can't get you or this place out of my head. Seems you started a process you didn't care to finish, and now I'm tethered to you from a different country. Care to explain?"

Silence.

He looked at her then, visibly skeptical. "This meadow. What do you think of it?"

"Nothing?... You just gone stand there like I'm not talking?"

Silence.

She glared, waiting for a reaction. This was not the reunion she'd imagined. She finally kissed her teeth, ready to turn around.

"Like you don't look at the same damn thing every day."

"Uh, it's cool?" She shrugged. "The sky is probably the best part."

"I never get tired of this sky."

"Do you get any feelings in this meadow?"

Dawn sighed. Here she was after a year, and he was focused on the damn sky. Though it was beautiful.

She too stared upward, under the darkening sky.

"How did you feel when you awoke?" His question caught her off guard.

"It was a rush," she admitted. "When you gave me your blood, I felt intense energy inside of me. How did you know to do that? Did you know what it would do?"

Dawn sighed, closing her eyes briefly. Again with the sky and the meadow. She started walking away in the opposite direction, annoyed, but stopped. "You don't understand, I had to find you again. Something in me said find you, and I don't know why, but here I am."

It was like he'd teleported within another blink. He was behind her, his face at her ear. She should've been terrified, but the feeling couldn't fully register.

"It's okay to admit you're taken with the idea of eternal beauty and grace. Who doesn't want to live young forever? Poor thing. A human life is lackluster. So fleeting."

"It's the ties that bind," his honied voice came, his attention not on her but on the presence hiding in the trees ahead.

Someone had followed him despite his directive. As for who, it wasn't difficult to guess. She wasn't good at hiding her presence.

"Just a small taste, and you're hooked," his fingers slid feather-light over Dawn's sleeves and over her the shoulder straps of her backpack. He knew Deanna was watching.

How frightened she must be. Let's play a trick, shall we? Don't move, he willed Dawn as his hand slid snugly across the front of her slender neck. Dawn hadn't moved a muscle, rendered unable by his compulsion.

"The heightened senses. The newfound glory," he teased seductively in her ear. "You like what my power does to you. How it makes you feel. You feel renewed... Alive."

His voice was hypnotic, like a spell. He was too deep in her head, the subtle suggestions masquerading as her own thoughts.

She could feel his sharp nail pressing into her throat like a knife threatening to slice at any moment.

"You want this," he whispered in her ear as he lightly stroked the bonnet she wore. "I assure you, death is quicker than falling asleep."

"Careful, servant, or you might eat those words."

Finally. There she was, revealed from the trees. Deanna appeared, walking into the open and lowering herself to the ground. "I swear on my life I would never disrespect you, my prince, but I-"

It was light rebuke, but Deanna hid her face. Her fear of the prince ran deep, yet here she was, spying to keep a protective eye on Dawn.

Semi was the next to emerge, only he was furiously eyeing Deanna. "You insolent!!"

"Semi, why is a subject in my presence when I've asked to be alone? Do I need concerned to the point of re-evaluating your position?"

"No, my king." Semi bowed modestly. He had followed Deanna to the clearing to deal with her defiance. Now, he was forcing her to her knees at the prince's feet.

Dawn opened her mouth to speak, but Deanna's brief look paused her. Her body was bent to the lowest degree. "I beg you," she pleaded, "Spare her life. Take mine."

"How dare you continue to speak to me," N'Jadaka spat in disgust. Something about Dawn caused others to forget their place.

He could feel Semi staring. "You've got something to say?"

Deanna was now face down with her palms in the grass of her own volition. "My prince, forgive my insolence," she begged, but she did not move, nor did she raise her head even as the prince stepped on it, irritated that she'd go so far.

Part of him was appreciative. It was an odd mix of emotions that were difficult for him to place. That, too, irritated him.

"In respect and concern for your kingdom," Semi straightened. "There is something strange about the girl. You've felt it. We've all felt it. It's my belief that if you are willing, we should investigate."

His words confirmed what N'Jadaka had figured. One, there was serious talk among the palace, and he was not the only one feeling the confusion her random appearances had brought. Two, he couldn't turn her. Something deep in his gut told him it would be the mistake of his life, and he had to explore it.

"Get up," N'Jadaka challenged to the deadly still Deanna. She would not move for fear of what he might do to her if she did, which was a valid fear. He could be impulsive with his punishments. So he called on Semi. "Do what you will."

He needed a moment to think.

"How unsightly," he frowned. "And it's unbecoming to pant."

Dawn was stunned, and with a dismissive wave like he was over the entire interaction, N'Jadaka retreated, disappearing completely from her sight. She was picked up and whisked away before she could see who grabbed her.

Then she was set on her own two feet inside of the castle where Semi steadied her as she gathered her senses and her balance. The prince was already on his throne with a bored expression, his chin propped on his hand.

"Careful," a stunning young woman with elaborate braids and a canary yellow dress warned with a posh wave of a fan. One sharp side-glance from N'Jadaka sent her eyes to the floor.

"It's unbecoming to make a black woman lose her bonnet," Dawn side-eyed, trying to return to her body's equilibrium without puking. "Guess we all need etiquette."

"If you were one of us, you wouldn't feel the speed. Semi, show Miss Dawn to her quarters. Maybe she'll find the use of a mirror."

"RUDE," she yelled as the door shut behind her quicker than she could physically respond. She had a good comeback for the prince that would've made him think twice if only she could've stuck around. The material was there.

The soiree of well-dressed dead chuckled at Dawn's expense as N'Jadaka's haughty brow lifted, triggering Dawn to fire back, but she was no match for Semi's speed. He removed her quicker than she could part her lips.

She was now in the same dim burgundy and gold room she'd been kept in the last time she found herself in the hidden castle.

The door re-opened to a familiar face, one that was full of confusion and anxiety.

"Deanna!" Dawn's excitement spiked.

"Why would you come back!? He almost killed you." Deanna rushed to her, eyes wide as though she were staring at a ghost.

Deanna's eyes dulled. "I sensed the prince's blood in you." She was deeply confused. "But... How did you escape?"

Dawn sighed. "So boom," she justified. "I'm not crazy, I swear, but would you believe that with one drop of the prince's blood," her finger raised, "Everything about me has been enhanced. One drop. Like how am I alive, Deanna? I should've died, and I was planning to, but he saved me. Honest to God. No, no, hear me out! I'm not dead. I'm still me, but my strength and my stamina? Through the roof. The roof!"

"Oh, I didn't. I was near dead when the prince revived me. Was it the third time he's saved me? I'm still breathing."

With a dramatized deep breath, Dawn realized she was missing a brooding voice's interjections. Her brows shot up as she looked left and right.

"Where's Julip? You two were attached at the hip."

Dawn's eyes bugged as she grasped at straws to understand. "Wait, what?"

"Dungeon."

"Hm?"

"The prince has been taking out his frustration on him day and night."

"What did you think would happen, Dawn? He disobeyed the prince to help you."

"He's been in the dungeon since I left?" Dawn was still in shock. "But why, when the prince is the one who dropped me at the edge of the forest? It's gotta be more to it."

"No, Dawn, there doesn't," Deanna's annoyance glared. "I thought you would've known this... Something is definitely off about you."

"Me?!" Dawn pointed to herself.

"Why are you here?"

"Girl!" Dawn kissed her teeth, unable to explain without genuinely sounding crazy. "It's hard to explain. You wouldn't understand."

"Attempt," Deanna glared.

Dawn's voice turned into a whisper as she leaned into Deanna's shoulder. "All I know is I woke up in a hospital feeling better than ever. I don't know why. It doesn't.. It doesn't make sense. N'Jadaka's face has been haunting my dreams ever since."

"You dare use his name? Now I see... He's toying with you."

"I don't think so," Dawn admitted. "He could've killed me at any moment. You saw him. He didn't do it."

"It doesn't mean he won't. I've seen him compel people for his own entertainment before spilling their blood for banquet. It's fun for him." There was clear contempt in her voice as she seemed to remember something terrible. "I was compelled to my death. I didn't have control of my body. It was as though someone implanted thoughts in my head.

Dawn froze, the feeling familiar. "I've been in this haze as though I'm dreaming. I figured it's a side effect of the blood."

"Your fear sense is dulled. That's how he gets in. He makes you fearless so that nothing stops you from running full speed into death." Flashbacks returned as Deanna recalled some of the most simplistic yet cruel deaths she'd witnessed. "Even now, he's compelled Julip to feel pain. It's his way of torture. He compels us all to obey. And I'm aware the prince has compelled me to fear him more than anything. I'm sorry to say, it's likely his compulsion that has brought you back. He doesn't free anyone, ever, and now that you're back, he has you exactly where he wants you."

"Wants me? For what," Dawn frowned. She knew that fear was proper, but she still couldn’t feel it. "What do I do?"

"Escape. Before it's too late." She was silenced when Semi poked his head into the room.

Quickly, Deanna took Dawn into the bathroom and ran the bath, cleansing her of the sweat and grime. "Go with it," she advised. "Whatever happens, don't make him angry. Don't think about me, Julip, or anything else. At the first chance, hide. I'll do what I can."

"Get her ready," he ordered, disappearing.

Dawn nodded her permission.

Dawn's curls were braided down and tucked neatly, adorned with small white flowers. She was put in a long conservative white and gold dress with heavy gold earrings.

"If things go wrong-"

"It's my own fault," Dawn spoke flatly. She wouldn't dare blame Deanna.

"It's not your fault. His compulsion is strong. Dawn. But if things go wrong and he does, in fact, kill you, I hope you stay dead."

This time around, Dawn was escorted by N'Jadaka himself through the darkened halls where he seemed to float like an apparition in the haunted hallway lit with sconces. Huli and Semi stood stiff and intimidating at the large double doors of the massive banquet hall. It was as magnificent as Dawn recalled, an afro-gothic twist on ancient luxury with the kingdom in white tie coming to a pause in reverence of their charismatic leader. He was hand in hand with her, toting her at his side like an accessory.

"I'll do what I can."

Deanna sighed.

Dawn tried to stop her eyeroll unsuccessfully. Her distaste was palpable. There was a slight smirk on his lips, and the more put off she appeared, the more it entertained him. He was indeed toying with her.

"Welcome," he greeted his audience, exchanging pleasantries as Dawn remained silent. She could feel the shift in power dynamic. The people were bowing to her, though their eyes betrayed a desire to tear her apart.

"Wheel out the main course," Prince N'Jadaka gestured to the opposing double doors across the great room. On cue, the infamous rack appeared, triggering the sight of all that blood. She could smell it. She covered her nose, lost in an intense flashback that had previously been somewhat buried.

"Easy," N'Jadaka whispered, causing the memory to fade once more.

The attention of the crowd was still drawn to the rack as though they'd wheeled out a rich selection of steaks.

"A lovely display of forest fruits indeed," N'Jadaka's dead eyes rested on Dawn's. "Such short lifespans. It's pitiful, really."

"In the interest of manners, I have decided that our honored guest will do the honors this evening," he announced, placing a pristine blade into her palm. He watched her confusion turn to panic. She didn't have the stomach for murder which made it all the more entertaining. Wordlessly, he gestured with the grace of an ancient monarch for her to continue toward the rack of men.

"The empathy you feel," N'Jadaka's eyes burned. "What is that like?"

Cornered, Dawn wandered slowly through the splitting crowd, getting closer and closer to where she didn't want to be. She couldn't even look the condemned in the eye, knowing the brutal details of their impending deaths.

Dawn dropped the blade, the sound of it clanging to the banquet floor like a pin drop in silence.

"You're the damn devil," she muttered as he watched from his throne with crossed legs. Had he always been so deranged, she wondered. "You'll have to find another can opener. I refuse."

Making her way back toward the stage, she shook her head in distaste. She didn't like this side of him. He'd have to pull his head out of his sadistic ass and fuck off somewhere because this was going entirely too far. "Why are you doing this? To prove a point?"

"No, bump that," she retorted. "Where's Julip?"

"It's rude to make us wait," he taunted, still finding entertainment in the scenario he caused.

Dawn nodded. She knew how to wipe that haughty look from his mug.

The prince's light expression faded, and from the corner of her eye, Dawn could see Deanna shake her head, no. Do not make him angry. Just go with it, she'd said, but Dawn couldn't do that. In this moment, there was not an ounce of backdown in her body. She wasn't a murderer or a torturer, and just thinking of what Julip was going through as everyone went on with their festivities was becoming more and more unbearable.

"What did you do to him," she demanded to know.

"Your traitorous beloved is rotting in the dungeon where he belongs. If you're so interested, you can keep him warm in his cell."

"Let him GO," Dawn demanded with authority. Everyone near her stepped back. Deanna cleared her throat aggressively, but Dawn could no longer be contained.

"Is that... an order?"

Dawn looked to the crowd. As thirsty as they'd been moments ago, suddenly, they didn't see her. "Did he compel everyone in this room? For a group of undead, y'all are a little too docile for me. One of your own is being tortured for no other reason than your spoiled brat of a prince is lost in his forever pubescent feelings! That could easily be you or your partners."

It was so quiet that she could've literally heard a pin drop.

"How are you all okay with this," she groaned, eyeing everyone in the vicinity. Frustration boiled over as she pointed aggressively to the rack of men. "And this shit? This is some depraved shit! There are better ways to exist, not like brainless animals with no sense or self-control."

"Stab him."

Dawn picked up the pristine blade from the floor in a smooth motion and drove it swiftly into one man's thigh deep enough for him to groan past the gag and bleed. In shock, she tried to comprehend what she'd just done. Her body had moved on its own before she could realize.

"Again."

Her two hands trembled in their effort to stop themselves. She looked to the prince as sweat beaded on her forehead from the intense physical and mental strain. When he didn't move a centimeter, she pulled the blade from the man's thigh and plunged it in the opposite thigh even deeper, hitting bone. Her small cry of revulsion tremored as the man groaned in agony, sweat falling up his purplish neck and face. Dawn gagged as the blood touched her skin triggering those same intense memories as before. She couldn't look.

"I think you're under the impression that my kingdom is a democracy... Again," N'Jadaka ordered.

The knife sunk into the man's abdomen, and Dawn's knees buckled with the weight of what she was doing. The slick sound of the blade entering flesh, mixed with agonizing grunts, was torture to her ears. She was going to physically be sick.

"STOP THIS," Deanna shrieked as warm crimson spilled down Dawn's forearm. She was seconds from disemboweling a man as her arms shook violently.

"Bring me the blade."

With no control over her body at all, Dawn yanked the knife from the man's gaping stomach, hearing the queasy sound once more. His blood trickled down into a crystal vase as she walked robotically through the parted crowd and up the short column of stairs to the throne. N'Jadaka held out his palm, and she placed the handle of the bloodied blade into it.

"Thank you," his head tilted, "For the wonderful show. Dawn, is it?" His brow raised. "Huli, I don't believe our guest is hungry tonight. Please escort her back to her quarters."

"So I could be in the dungeon with you," sbe heard suddenly. "No thanks."

Just like that and all at once, Dawn was released from her prior compulsions. The haze broke, and Dawn plunged into the icey deep of all the bad and unsavory memories. There were gaps in time. Where had she been for the past year? It felt like she was just waking up from a dream into a nightmare.

Ejected and carried out, she didn't protest when she was locked in her room because her healthy sense of fear was back full-fledged. Instead, she scrubbed her hands and arms in the bathroom over and over until rage took over. The anger, frustration, and fear were too much to bear at once. She smashed a vase of fresh purple flowers that had been left and threw herself across the bed, falling gradually into an angry sleep where she still couldn't escape the rapidly returning memories. There was no reprieve.

"I followed you to death, you can't even follow me to the dungeon?"

"I wouldn't follow you to the kitchen."

Dawn woke gradually to the sound of two bickering voices.

"Why would I? I didn't get you there."

"You didn't get me out, either. Dawn did."

Dawn's eyes popped open. "Julip?" She sat straight to grab his arm, making sure he was really there, no clear words forming. "Are you- Why would-"

"Don't strain your brain, you wouldn't understand," Julip sighed, sinking next to her so close that the entire side of his body was touching hers. "Don't talk. Listen."

"I was wrong," Deanna admitted, a plan hatching in her mind as she locked eyes with the confused Dawn. "You're not still compelled, are you? Wake up, girl. Keep up."

Dawn had unknowingly missed much in her compelled state. According to Deanna, part of the effect of someone being compelled was that it was like communicating with a brick wall. Dawn had simply filtered out parts of the earlier conversations that would have triggered her sooner. Now, she needed to catch up. There had been talk in the palace and movements leading to Julip's release.

"Things aren't as we originally believed," Deanna smirked. She had to start from the beginning.

@dashhoney25 @lettidarawest @soufcakmistress @ljstraightnochaser @princessstevens-blog @eye-raq @thiccdaddy-mbaku @destinio1 @iamrheaspeaks @hidden-treasures21 @bidibidibombaclaat @forbeautyandlife @blowmymbackout @misspooh @thotyana-in-this-hoe @purplehairgawdess @thegucciwaffle @goddessofthundathighs @theegoldenchild @thadelightfulone @sultanabby @mysticalblackhottie @baekhyunbabybunni @fd-writes @richonne4life @goldieccentric @thehomierobbstark @capswife @blackpinup22 @harleycativy @lishabaybeee-blog @playgurlxoxo @beaut1fulone-blog @blackerthings @syndrlla97 @ladymac82 @browngirldominion @prettyisasprettydoes1306 @uzumaki-rebellion

#original #erik killmonger #killmonger #erik stevens #erik killmonger fanfiction #black panther killmonger #black panther fanfiction #black fanfic writer

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sholiofic · 1 year

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… wingfic where Zemo is fastidious about keeping them tidy and neat even on the Raft, but when he badly breaks his wrist on a parole mission it gradually becomes clear he can’t groom them now without his left arm: he’s no longer sleek and well-kept, there’s loose feathers sticking out everywhere when his coat slips, and it doesn’t look comfortable at ALL. But letting Sam and/or Bucky help? That’s a whole other Issue.

"Hey," Sam said, as Zemo tried to reach over his shoulder and stuff his wings back under his coat. "You're not supposed to be moving that wrist."

Zemo didn't actually answer in words, but his expression said I do what I want more clearly than words would have anyway. His expression also said Ow. Sam watched him struggle for another moment before he cracked.

"Do you want some help with that?"

"I'm fine," Zemo said.

That was, in general, his answer to everything.

"You dropped something," Bucky called brightly from the kitchen, pointing to a feather on the floor.

Zemo's answer to that was the sort of noise a wet cat might have made.

The care that Zemo took with his wings was meticulous. Although Sam's initial curiosity about his wings had never entirely worn off, over time both Sam and Bucky had gone from being curious and interested, to mainly just annoyed. Zemo would almost certainly have been a bathroom hog even without the wings, he was just that type of person, but the wings took it to the point of absolute absurdity. He spent hours meticulously combing, smoothing, and oiling them—at least Sam assumed that's what he was doing in there. His wing-care oils and combs and perfumes took up the entire bathroom cabinet wherever they went and left no room for anyone else's toothbrush. And all of this just to tuck his wings under his coat most of the time.

Having one wrist out of commission had also put his daily wing-care regiment out of whack. This was funny at first, but increasingly less so as he got snappier about it, and his wings got scruffier. Sam was beginning to realize that the all-day wing care was as much necessity as vanity. Okay, vanity was definitely part of it. But it was obvious that without being constantly taken care of, his wings started to develop scruffy patches and out-of-place feathers.

"Going somewhere?" Bucky asked. Zemo—sitting on the couch with his coat on—glared at him.

Zemo had very nearly stopped taking his coat off indoors, which Sam suspected was partly embarrassment about the state of his wings and partly just that he had a lot of trouble getting the wings tucked into their usual positions if he took it off.

There were times to be cautious and circumspect, and times to bull ahead straight through.

Sam had never been accused of not being stubborn enough.

Zemo gave him a look of wary unease when Sam sat beside him on the couch with a towel, a couple of bottles, and one of Zemo's oversized wing combs, all of them swiped from Zemo's prodigious bathroom stash.

"Have you been in my things?" Zemo said.

"Yes," Sam said. Bucky, in the kitchen, was clearly listening in fascination; if he could have sprouted a giant ear like a cartoon character, he would have done so.

"I don't need help," Zemo said tightly.

"Look, man, you're getting feathers everywhere, and it's annoying. Bucky can't spend all day sweeping up after you."

There was a scoffing sound from the kitchen.

"Think of it as a necessary household chore that you can't do one-handed," Sam added. "So one of us can step in for a bit."

Zemo regarded him with one of his weird hard-to-read expressions. Then, abruptly, he shoved back the tail of his coat and began to struggle out of it. "For necessary household reasons," he said.

"Of course," Sam said, firmly resisting helping him with the coat.

When Zemo got the coat off, Sam saw that the condition of his wings was even worse than he'd realized. Keeping them cooped up under the coat all the time probably wasn't a big help. They were dull and scruffy, and some of the feathers actually looked broken or out of kilter.

Sam carefully settled a hand on his wing. Zemo jerked a little.

"Hurt?" Sam said.

"No," Zemo said, his voice abrupt.

His feathers were softer than Sam had realized. Actually, the only thing Sam had to compare it to—a comparison he definitely did not plan to share with Zemo—was that it made him think of a neighbor of theirs who'd had chickens when he was a kid. The chickens were soft like this, a kind of cloudlike feathery softness, warm and alive.

He was never, ever telling Zemo that.

"I don't know exactly what to do," Sam admitted. "You might have to guide me a little."

Zemo still looked extremely off balance, but this at least got him back in his favorite mode: being a smug know-it-all. And it seemed to work. He relaxed a little as he showed Sam, as best he could one-handed, how to use the comb to separate the feathers and work in the oil.

It was steady, meticulous work, weirdly soothing, but what really caught Sam off guard was how much it seemed to relax Zemo to have his wings worked on. He seemed to be slowly melting into the couch, and didn't even do more than stir a little when Bucky wandered in, curiosity having become too much for him.

"Need some help?"

"Grab a comb and a wing," Sam said.

Zemo half opened his eyes at that, as if to object—but he didn't.

#tfatws #the falcon and the winter soldier #helmut zemo #sam wilson #wingfic #bucky barnes #wingterbaron #kinda #with actual wings

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butchmartyr · 2 months

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Idk if you know who I’m talking about but from like 2017-2019 there was this popular bi blogger in Fluoresensitive’s close circle. I followed her briefly because she had useful takes and resources on bisexuality but she was constantly suuuuper combative over extremely trivial things (like anime opinions), accused anybody who disagreed with her of being white (even if that visibly wasn’t the case) and had her own issues with lesbophobia and (especially) antiblackness that her circle would dismiss entirely for whatever reason.

She eventually left Tumblr but about a year and half later, somebody informed one of the people in her circle on here that she ships some asoiaf incest ship, writes Danmei dubcon fics and complains about ‘antis’ on Twitter. They denied it and said it probably wasn’t her account until proof was sent and only then did they actually condemn some of her previous behaviour (cause people outside of their circle were bringing it up) and cut her off entirely. It was a pretty big deal.

MANY such cases. MANY. not entirely sure I know who you’re talking about but the first half of this has a real familiarity to it, but maybe that’s just because how popular moralizing over nonsense used to be on here lol.

#you should tell me though cuz im curious I won’t publish #asks

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that-disabled-princess · 1 year

Text

I thought I'd compile a list of my favorite lines I've written for this year's @carryon-countdown, so here it is! (There is also some commentary from me.)

I wanted to narrow this list down so it was shorter, but I talked myself out of it. Self-love is important, and I've been needing some of that this month.

From Of loss and love

Here in the dark, where no one can see me, hear me, where no one can find me, I let myself cry. I let my head fall back onto the hard wood of my tomb.

Staring off with an angsty one, but I love how poetic this line is. The poetic lines always tend to be some of my favorites.

From day 7: veil

Instead, I say, “Okay,” and, “Glad you were finally able to let all that bottled up anger out.”

Simon is just so funny to me right here.

From 101 ways to snag yourself a vampire: Romance edition

37. Sympathize with him when he says that Illinois is the “land of the damned.”

As a resident of Illinois, this is constantly hilarious to me.

55. Buy him a rose gold engagement ring.

When will someone buy me a rose gold engagement ring?

56. Stand by his side while he and his aunt’s boyfriend fight for vampire rights.

I wanted to quote over half the lines in this fic as my favorite line, but I'll stick to just three.

From day 18: shepherd

Taking a deep breath, Baz nods. “I want to pet the puppies.”

Baz is just so damn cute when he says this. I could live in the moment of this line forever.

From hair love under dragon's touch

Baz is sitting on the coffee table in front of me, hair wind-tousled and comb in hand. All I would need to do is shift my eyes two feet up to where his own eyes are, grey and beautiful and barely mine…

Another poetic line. I think of the phrase "grey and beautiful and barely mine" a lot.

My hands are still in Baz’s hair, and I feel as though I’ve just been accused of committing a crime.

I love giving Simon lines I think are funny. (And also giving Simon my inner chaos demon.)

It’s a good thing that today is Sunday and that I don’t have to go anywhere because I’d like to stay right here with my face buried in my fiancé’s tits.

Tiddy 🥰

From Bat Baz, bat Baz, go flying with your dragon boyfriend

The night air is crisp; the snow is slowing down and the clouds are clearing from the sky, making way for the stars.

There’s never a moment where I’m not in love with him, but in this moment, here with him under the stars, I adore him.

Together we float in the air, turning in a slow circle, kissing under the stars.

Do I even need to explain the poetic lines at this point? I just... I love them.

Some more from spicy fics under the cut!

From Mark of the Beast

It comes with a heady rush of power, the knowledge that he can make this so-called vampire, the leader of his enemy, turn defenseless by his hands. (By his mouth.) (By his cock.)

Honestly, the entirety of my Lambden fic is my favorite line, but I'll restrain myself xD This was such a fun fic to write.

“When you make noise, you’re going to let everyone in this bar hear it. You’re going to let everyone hear your groans as if they were the bass reverberating in their skulls; let them know how good you take it.”

The imagery that the phrase "as if they were the bass reverberating in their skulls" creates is just *chef's kiss*

From Something to suck on

He caresses my tail between his fingers, firmly, how I like it, presses wet kisses along the base, bites at it, drags his tongue along it. I can barely think with the way Baz is taking me apart. Morgana, has my tail always been this sensitive?

Baz moans around my tail, the vibrations sending shivers up my spine. He moans again, and I whine.

I’m being loud. (Can the neighbors hear me, even with Baz’s silencing spell? Fuck, I want them to. They need to know that this gorgeous man is mine. They need to know how good Baz takes care of me.)

I'm cheating my own rules by posting multiple paragraphs, but I love these three paragraphs. So so much. This was another super fun fic to write! We need more tail porn in this fandom.

From Reviewing bridges with Simon Snow (the fic itself isn't NSFW, but what I have to say about this line is)

Simon: *dreamily* Oh, yeah, I have some good memories of that bridge. Baz and I fucked there a few times.

I just love public sex and exhibitionism kinks.

If anyone wants to join me on the self-love train and post some of your favorite lines/arts/etc that you wrote or drew for this year's COC, I would love to see them!

#carry on #snowbaz #my writing #carry on countdown #coc 2022 #lambden #spicy links

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roleplayerconfessions · 2 years

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687259405133185024 Y'all need to work on your reading comprehension. OP literally said "female OC writers who constantly yell at people are insufferable", not, "all female OC writers are insufferable", and if most of their experiences are with the former, they have a right to complain about it. It would piss me off, too. I've actually been there. Someone approached me and asked if I wanted to roleplay once. Their muse was canon and female, but they didn't have a dossier (which I ask of everyone I roleplay with, I hate combing through massive multi-page wikis and shit). They accused me of being "misogynistic" and "toxic" once I said I wouldn't roleplay with them because they lacked a dossier. They totally overlooked the "no dossier" part and jumped straight to the misogyny thing. Do other people with other muses have severe problems with rejection? Yeah. But there is a sensitivity about female muses because unlike male muses, you don't usually get serious accusations like "misogynist" thrown in your face just because you aren't interested in interacting with them, and that shit hurts, especially if you literally are female. And surprise, surprise, but despite my bad experience, I do still actually roleplay with female muses. Shocker, I know. I have two interactions on my plate right now. So don't claim people like me always paint female muses and muns with the same brush once we have a bad experience, or that I avoid female muses completely. You're just being a hypocrite at that point, because you're painting everyone like me with the same brush too, ie. saying I hate all female muses and "people like me always avoid all female muses". I'm not surprised OP had to send their confession here because of how some of you reacted.

In response to comments on this submission.

#Submission Replies #Muns #Female Muses #Original Characters #Sexism #Bullying #Manipulation #Discrimination #Misogyny CW

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wutbju · 2 years

Text

It was just a few days ago that BJU Class of 2022 ministerial major Timothy Joel Martin insisted that WutBJU was peddling in tabloid-like gossip.

And now? Now our dear fresh-out-of-college Timmy confirms what we said originally.

Silly boy.

But his statement is quite useful. TL;DR, but useful. I'll include it all and then bring the important part below.

I was initially skeptical of this as some sort of revolutionary student thing coming from a bad attitude. But after taking a look at it, this is actually a wonderful way to have a public voice regarding the potential of Dr. Pettit's contract not being renewed. I've been privy to this drama for a long time and kept my mouth shut about it. There are good and Godly people on the board of Bob Jones University and a mob mentality usually results in blanket accusations against "the board" without knowing the names and faces on the board. I do know the names and faces on the board, and a lot of them are great people. However, this has become a public issue. I wish it had not become one. But seeing as it is a public issue now, I see no use in staying silent on it.

Certain donors are accusing Dr. Pettit of drifting from the university's values. To the contrary, I believe it clearer that certain donors members have superimposed their personal values over the values of the school and are scapegoating an individual. Here is the comment I left on the petition. It's blunt and to the point.

You pretty much have the choice between killing the university or keeping a wise and Godly man at the helm of the ship for a few more years. It shouldn't be that difficult.

I owe a debt to this man. He was used greatly by God in my life when I was twelve. Growing up under the heavy and oppressive atmosphere legalistic theology in regards to salvation, Dr. Pettit was the first preacher I ever heard clearly articulate how my salvation was wholly a work of God, settled in eternity past, and finished in time at the cross. The sermon caused my relationship with Christ to go from being an object of fearful anxiety to being my greatest joy in life. And the human instrument for that moment of sanctifying assurance was Dr. Pettit.

There was a time, in my ingratitude and immaturity as a freshman, that his strong leadership and direct speech really rubbed me the wrong way. I found him combative, uncharitable, closeminded. It took me a while to see that he was right and that I was wrong. I just wasn't used to seeing what Godly masculine leadership looks like. In my mind today, Dr. Pettit embodies it. He has consistently fought the right fights on the issues of the day with a confidence that is tempered by grace and love. He has been firm on the very issues (gender, sexuality, race, etc) which have destroyed the lives of many of my former classmates at BJU.

Want to know a common denominator between former friends of mine who have now left the faith for atheism or an LGBTQ lifestyle? They all hated Dr. Pettit and complained about him constantly. The only people that this man has offended, he has offended for righteousness' sake.

I urge the student body to have an attitude about this defined by gossip, anger, angsty, or a revolutionary spirit. Whatever comes to pass is the will of God. But by all means, give honor to whom honor is due and be public with your support for a man who has served you well.

I think you want to add a big NOT to that last paragraph, son. But that's okay. Mistakes happen. See how nice I am?

Back up to earlier in the statement when Martin says:

Certain donors are accusing Dr. Pettit of drifting from the university's values.

Donors? BJU doesn't have big donors that are not on the Board of Trustees. That's how you GET on the Board of Trustees. There are some wealthy people on there (but the richest of them all, Ed Cone, is gone, btw). Here are the "names and faces" that little Timmy knows so well (lots of us do, hon):

Dr. Dawn Akam, Menomonee Falls, Wis.

Dr. Hantz Bernard, Chair, Marketing & Development Committee, Caledonia, Mich.

Dr. Gary Cobb, Middletown, Ohio

Dr. Sam Dawson, Allen Park, Mich.

Dr. Mike Harding (Secretary/Treasurer), Chair, Academic Committee, Washington Township, Mich.

Dr. Joe Helm, Chair, Personnel & Plant Committee, Menomonee Falls, Wis.

Mr. Paul Kalmbach, Arlington, Ohio

Pastor Shawn Kook, Davison, Mich.

Dr. John Lewis (Chair), Davison, Mich.

Mr. Paul Matthews, Athens, Ala.

Mr. Jerry Morgan, Chair, Student Development & Discipleship Committee, Greenville, S.C.

Dr. Steve Pettit, Greenville, S.C.

Dr. Brian Priest, Perkasie, Pa.

Dr. Jean Saito, Greenville, S.C

Mr. Tim Stanley (Vice Chair), Chair, Finance & Audit Committee, Greenville, S.C.

Mr. Gary Thompson, Buffalo, Mo.

Dr. Bruce Woodworth, Knoxville, Tenn.

WutBJU has been covering all the ways that BJU has "drifted" from its brand. Let's remember a few:

BJU Grass

Rules are stated but completely unenforced.

Social media is run amuck.

Fashion shows with poorly designed expressions of the not-Gospel. Remember what the Chairman of the Board of Trustees said about that?

Trevor Lawrence? Remember that?

And even retired BJU Bible Faculty member, David Beale, has been pretty outspoken.

So Timothy Martin, hats off to you. I think you've solved the puzzle: this is why Pettit's job is on the rocks. WutBJU has been warning the Board about this for four years.

It's unfortunate that you had to go to man-worship in your defense, but you're still wee. That's normal for a young person.

#Bob Jones University #Timothy Joel Martin #Class of 2022 #Steve Pettit #BJU Loyalist #Presidency #Friend of the Archive #BJU Board of Trustees #Make Pettit Prez again #Make BJu Great Again #mBJUga

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sdpolar · 2 years

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Play chicken hunter

Almost losing the game, the umpire explains to the crowd and announcer that he is still safe in which Chicken Little eventually ends up winning the game, beating Foxy. Little ends up hitting the ball as the commentator, the crowd, his father Buck, and even Turkey Lurkey, tell him to run. Later after Little trains hard, Chicken Little goes to the field to win the game, despite a puma being worried that he might lose the game again just like what Foxy did to him albeit almost getting three strikes during his game. The next day, Chicken Little sees an opportunity and tries signing up for the school baseball team, as his father did years ago, but he ends up training in order to be in a better player where Foxy Loxy constantly keeps winning many games. When Chicken Little and his father return home, Little sits on the rooftop where he looks at the sky where he wishes for his dream to come true. Later that night, Chicken Little explains to his father that he wants to be in the baseball team, but his father tells him to choose another activity such as chess. After a talk with the principal, Buck explains to his son not to talk about the inappropriate things he did at school earlier. Later, Little is sent to Principal Fetchit's office where he talks to his father about the inappropriate things he did at school. Later, he ends up getting bullied by Foxy Loxy and Goosey Loosey, launching him on a window dropping down to pull a lever triggering the fire alarm, shocking the coach. Woolensworth's class, Goosey Loosey points out that he did not show up on time as he is marked "tardy" for a class as Woolensworth asks his class to translate each page into mutton by bleating like a sheep.Ī misfit ever since and the target of bullies, Chicken Little and his small circle of friends have since been trying to figure a way for him to change his image for example during a game of dodgeball, Chicken Little's classmate Abby Mallard encourages him to make closure with his father in which she explains to him to stop causing the same problem as he did to the town from last year. Unable to catch the bus, Chicken Little starts to get late for school as he uses a bottle of orange soda to get inside the school where he hides in one of the lockers to avoid getting caught by the other citizens. One year later, Buck then explains to him about the public getting more attention from Little as his father drops him off to school. He wears a green and white striped T-shirt, green glasses, and brown shorts.Īfter Chicken Little sees a hexagon-shaped object with an image of the sky fall from the sky, he believes that the sky itself is falling, and tries to warn the town, but in doing so, he throws the town into a panic that causes him to be accused of being insane. Chicken Little is kind and supportive to the people he cares about.Ĭhicken Little has white feathers and a red rooster comb. But Chicken Little worries about everything sometimes and try to get a lot of attention to everybody to prove that the sky is falling. Fox, Matthew Broderick, and David Spade were originally considered for the role. Before Zach Braff was cast as Chicken Little, Michael J. The gender flip occurred because of the notion that short boys are more likely to be bullied than short girls. Once the download completes, the installation will start and you'll get a notification after the installation is finished.Chicken Little was initially written as a female character with the voice of Holly Hunter, and Hunter reportedly recorded her lines for the part. Chicken Hunter will be downloaded onto your device, displaying a progress.A pop-up window with the permissions required by Chicken Hunter will be shown.Tap on the Install button located below the search bar and to the right of the app icon. Once the Chicken Hunter is shown in the Google Play listing of your Android device, you can start its download and installation.Click on the Continue To App button on our website.How to install Chicken Hunter on your Android device: If your antivirus detects the Chicken Hunter as malware or if the download link for is broken, use the contact page to email us. We have already checked if the download link is safe, however for your own protection we recommend that you scan the downloaded app with your antivirus. The app is listed on our website since and was downloaded 22 times. To install Chicken Hunter on your Android device, just click the green Continue To App button above to start the installation process. The latest version released by its developer is 1.0. The company that develops Chicken Hunter is Appholic. Chicken Hunter is a free app for Android published in the Action list of apps, part of Games & Entertainment.

#Play chicken hunter

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missmentelle · 4 years

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I’m going to tell you a secret that I wish someone had told me a long, long time ago: If you’ve been in nothing but toxic and unhealthy relationships for most of your life, your first healthy relationship is probably going to feel boring.

I spent the majority of my teenage years and early 20s in a series of unhealthy relationships. My relationships were all unhealthy in very different ways, but there was one thing they had in common: they were unpredictable, and in a perverse way, that made them addicting. There’s something weirdly thrilling about a relationship that is off-the-charts intense all of the time, even if it’s often a bad intense. My stomach used to drop like I’d just gone down the first hill of a roller coaster every time I opened the door to the apartment I used to share with my ex, because I never knew what I was going to find inside. Maybe he’d be on the couch, writing a song about me with that big smile on his face. Maybe he’d be half-coherent and the entire apartment would be trashed, with all the shades drawn. Maybe he’d be gone altogether with absolutely no explanation, and no way of getting in touch with him. There’s a sick thrill to waking up every morning and not knowing if your day is going to end with an impromptu romantic 2 am adventure that involves kissing under the stars, or if you’re going to go to bed in tears because you just got screamed at in a dumb fight over paper towels. Maybe it’s both.

Often, it was both.

And after a while, when someone makes your heart pound every time you see them, your brain stops trying to learn the difference between attraction and fear.

Then in my final year of my master’s degree, I swiped right on the right person and got into the first healthy relationship I had ever been in. My new relationship was everything I could have dared to hope for, back in the days when I was begging my ex to tell me where he was because he hadn’t been home in four days, or getting woken up at four a.m. because he’d found a man’s name when he went through my phone while I was sleeping and didn’t believe it was my brother. My new partner is, at a very fundamental level, an incredibly gentle and thoughtful person. Regular “good morning” and “good night” texts became a regular staple of my day, instead of passive-aggressive jabs and so-called “silent treatments”. Encouragement was given freely, without any accusations that I was seeking attention or trying to out-do him. Birthdays and important dates were remembered without any reminders. Hugs were given out in generous quantities, small issues were laughed off instead of fought over, and male friends were encouraged instead of demonized. At long last, I had the relationship I had always wanted.

And to my absolute horror, I realized I was bored.

Without even realizing it, I had trained myself to think of relationships as battles, and being in a healthy relationship for the first time felt like I had suited myself up for an epic war, only to end up in an old ladies’ pottery class. The lack of unhealthy behaviours started making me antsy. Why wasn’t he going through my phone and looking through my social media? Did he just not care? Did it just not matter to him that other guys might be speaking to me? Why was I feeling so calm all the time? Where was the adrenaline rush? Why weren’t we clashing more? Did it mean that we just weren’t invested enough to even bother to fight with each other? We were - and are - deeply compatible people who have a lot of fun with each other, but I couldn’t shake the feeling that the relationship just wasn’t intense enough. I absolutely knew that my past relationships were deeply unhealthy, but it’s hard to un-learn the idea that relationships should be high-stakes and constantly exhausting if both people truly care about each other.

It took a lot of time, but I gradually come to realize something: I’d never actually known love in any of my previous relationships. What I had known was obsession. My exes had put me up on pedestals, and ripped me down as soon as I failed to live up to impossible expectations. Over and over again. Everything was big and over-the-top: life was a series of grand gestures, big fights and enormous apologies. I had one ex comb through years and years of my social media photos, commenting on every single one, while another ex would make the hour-long drive to my house in the middle of the night several times per week, whenever he felt like seeing me, letting himself in through my bedroom window. When you’re young and don’t know any better, that level of obsession is flattering. It’s what we’ve been taught is romantic. But it’s not - it’s not a good basis for a strong and healthy relationship. And in the end, none of it was really about me. My exes were caught up in ideas about the relationships they’d fantasized about having, and the way they wanted people to perceive them, and I was more or less just there to play a part. And it always came crashing down.

Real love, on the other hand, is not about the grand gesture. It’s not about non-stop “dialed-up-to-11″ intensity. It’s about being there, day by day. My boyfriend has never gone through my social media for six straight hours or broken into my house because he couldn’t wait a moment longer to see me, and he’s never screamed at me for having male names in my contacts list or for not texting back fast enough because he’s just so afraid to lose me. Instead, he is patient. He is kind. He listens to what I have to say and he doesn’t get upset about the small things and he always remembers to make my coffee exactly how I like it. I know that he will be there for me when I need him - whether I need to vent about a bad day at work or build a bookcase or double-check that I added enough salt to the soup - and I do the same for him. It’s a kinder, gentler kind of relationship, and now that I’m used to it, it’s anything but boring.

Don’t get me wrong - sometimes a relationship can be healthy and not be right for you. If you don’t have anything in common and you don’t enjoy doing things together, that’s probably not the relationship for you. It’s important to have fun with your partner and enjoy their company. But it’s also important not to mistake obsession for romance, or mistake a lack of intensity for disinterest.

#askmissmentelle #missmentelle #relationship tips #relationship #relationships #dating tips #dating #love #healthy relationships #relationship advice #dating advice

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inagetawaycarxo · 3 years

Text

Caught Out | Connor Rhodes FT Jay Halstead

Requested By Anon [I got a request, it is Connor x Reader x Jay. Reader is a pediatric trauma surgeon and very talented. She and Jay are dating when she finds Jay cheating on her with Hailey. The reader decides to leave Chicago and go to the city Connor is in. A few months later Jay shows up at Connor's door begging for the reader to take him back until he finds out she and Connor are dating and is happier with him.]

Pairings: Jay Halstead x Reader, Jay Halstead x Hailey Upton, Connor Rhodes x Reader

Featuring: Y/n, Jay Halstead, Hailey Upton, Connor Rhodes.

Summary: Y/n finds Jay cheating on her with Hailey and leaves Chicago to go see Connor

Warnings: angst, cheating, nudity, sex [kind of], betrayal, crying, jealousy, mentions of explicit sexual content, errors I missed.

w/c: 1513

Your eyes were heavy with sleep. All you wanted to do was go home and sleep. Especially you wanted to cuddle with Jay. But no, the universe had other plans for you.

A yawn escaped your mouth as you parked your car. Putting the handbrake up. Then turned the car off. You grabbed your work bag from the front seat. Slinging it across your shoulder. You took the keys out of the ignition, as you opened the door. Getting out of the car. Shutting the door and locking the car. You quickly rushed into the apartment complex. Rushing to the apartment you shared with Jay, all the while taking the apartment keys out of the bag.

Once you reached the door. You put the keys into the keyhole. Unlocking the lock.

Your hand grabbing the doorknob. Turning the doorknob. Opening the door, and walking in. you closed the door behind you. Your eyebrows furrow as you heard moaning and squeaking of the mattress coming from the bedroom. Dread filled your body as you slowly walked to the bedroom. Breathing hitching. You peaked at the half-open door. Your hands cupping your mouth. Muffling the gasp. Your heart felt like it was shattering into millions of pieces. As you looked away. Yet the image of Jay on top of Hailey, thrusting into her was burned into your mind.

You turned around. Rushing to the front door. Your gasp must have startled them because you heard the rustling of sheets, a few curse words slipping out of Jay’s mouth. It made you rush to the door faster.

Jay rushed to put his boxers on. Hailey quickly put her clothes on. Guilt washing over them.

“Y/n,” He shouted. As he exited the bedroom door. Hailey trailing after him. He saw you stop at the door. Hand hovering above the doorknob.

You turned around to face him with a look of heartbreak. Tears falling from your eyes like a waterfall. Lip quivering. Jay felt his heart clench. Guilt washing over him like a ton of bricks.

He was about to say something, but he heard footsteps behind him. Your gaze turned to Hailey, looking more crestfallen. You turned around quickly. Grabbing the doorknob and twisting it open. Opening the door and exiting the apartment as well as his life. Tears fell from his eyes, but he only had himself blame….

Tears blurred your vision as you drove out of Chicago. All you had on you was your work bag. Lucky had it had your wallet and phone in it.

You quickly wiped the tears away with the back of your hand. Hearing your phone vibrate constantly. You ignored it. Focusing on the road. Heartache engulfing you. You turned the radio on low hoping it would soothe your heartache, but it didn’t.

It seemed the universe didn’t want you to forget what you just saw. A sad song about cheating played on the radio. It made you burst into tears, as you drove. Doing your best to subside them. The only person who knew you well enough was Connor. So, that’s where you were going. Maybe if you would have picked him and left Chicago with him, instead of turning him down then none of this would have occurred and you wouldn’t have been heartbroken.

Self-doubt started to crawl inside of you. You should have seen the signs. The stolen glances, late nights at work, or what he claimed as work. How your works always put a strain on the relationship. But then anger sets in. he was the one that cheated on you. He was the one that wrecked the relationship. He used to accuse you of cheating on him with Connor before Connor left Chicago, but he was the one that was being unfaithful, he was the hypocrite.

It would have hurt less if it were a random girl, but no it was Hailey. His ex-girlfriend and his partner. You had a feeling this would happen. You just hoped it never did…

It was early morning when you reached Connor’s place. Parking your ear in his driveway. You put the car in park, putting the handbrake up. Turning the car off, taking keys out of the ignition. Then grabbed your bag. Opening the door. Slowly getting out of the car. Shutting the door then locking the car. Walking sheepishly to his door. Heart hammering against your ribcage. Hopefully, you aren’t intruding.

Connor must have heard a commotion outside and came to investigate. The door swinging open as you reached the top step.

Connor looked slightly shocked to see you outside of his door. His shock turned into a concerned look as he took in your appearance.

“Y/n, what happened?” He asked. As he rushed over to you. His hands cupping the side of your face. His touch made you melt. More tears fell from your eyes. Lips trembling.

“He cheated on me with Hailey,” You gasped out. Anger rises inside of Connor. Has Jay lost his mind? He thought to himself.

You fell into Connor. Connor wrapped his arms around you. As you bury your head into his chest. Crying till there were no tears left.

“He doesn’t deserve you,” Connor spoke softly as he rubbed soothing circles on your back.

Connor led you inside of his place. Sitting down with you on the couch. Hugging you close to his chest. Eventually, you told him what you saw. Connor’s jaw ticked as you told him. You eventually fell asleep on Connor’s lap. Not that Connor minded it. Connor starred at you as you slept on his lap. His fingers combing through your hair ever so softly. He loved you, and he was going to prove it to you now that you were no longer with Jay…

TWO MONTHS LATER

You felt two arms wrap around your waist from behind you. Connor pressed himself into your back. While you poured coffee.

“You look so sexy in my shirt,” Connor spoke into your ear. He pressed a soft kiss against the shell of your ear. His beard trickling your earlobe making you giggly.

“Mm... just in your shirt?” You teased. Quirking one eyebrow.

“You look sexy all the time, even sexier when you are naked, underneath me,” He spoke. Voice deepening with lust.

Connor spun you around to face him. You smiled as you saw his eyes darken with lust. Taking your lower lip in between your bottom lip.

“We have work soon,” You spoke. Arching an eyebrow as a warning.

“Then let’s make it a quickie,” He growled out. Before he could kiss you, the doorbell rang, as well as a knock interrupting Connor and you.

Connor let out a frustrated huff. As you made your way to the door.

“If it’s the next-door neighbor, tell then I’m out of sugar,” He spoke. You let out a laugh. Grabbing the doorknob and twisting it open.

You felt your heart leap into your throat. Your eyes were wide as you looked at the person in shock. The person happened to be Jay.

“Jay…” You brokenly gasped out.

“Y/n, I finally found you,” Jay gasped out. He looked like he hadn’t slept in months. Your heart was beating so fast you could barely hear your thoughts. Breathing quickening.

“W…what are you doing here?” You gasped out.

“I want you back, I’m sorry for cheating on you with Hailey,” Jay started to say. Taking a deep breath. When he said Hailey’s name your mind immediately flashed back to the night you saw him cheating on you with her. The words cheating and Hailey stung. It was like he was pouring salt on a wound.

“These past few months have been hell, I’ve been torturing myself these last few months, Hailey isn’t the one I want, it’s you,” Jay confessed. While you stared at him in shock.

You were about to say something when you felt Connor wrap a protective arm around you. Pulling you close to him. Jay looked slightly uncomfortable, confused, and jealous. Jealous of the fact you melted right into Connors touch. Like you felt safe.

Connor glared at Jay. His jaw clenching. He would have punched Jay, for what he put you through, but restrained himself.

“You have a lot of nerve coming here, in fact, you can keep torturing yourself because she doesn’t want you back,” Connor snapped. Speaking for you. You felt your heart flutter. Glad Connor spoke up for you. Because you couldn’t form the words to speak.

She can speak for herself,” Jay growled. Glaring at Connor.

“I am speaking for the both of us, and as her boyfriend, who loves her more than you ever did or could, LEAVE,” Connor growled out. Slamming the door shut, but not before Jay saw Connor give you a soft kiss on the cheek. Your face lighting up with happiness. Jay felt his heart shatter into pieces. He lost you for good. His insecurities and jealousy of Connor and your friendship pushing you towards Connor. Jay felt heartache flood through him, he only had himself to blame…

#jay halstead x reader #connor rhodes x reader #connor rhodes imagine #connor rhodes imagines #jay halstead imagine #chicago med x reader #chicago pd x reader #chicago med imagine #chicago pd imagine #angst #jay halstead angst

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baticorngirl · 2 years

Text

Title: Names and Knowledge

Rating: General Audiences Fandom: Batman/DC Relationship(s): Ra's al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Bruce Wayne & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul & Damian Wayne, Talia al Ghul/Bruce Wayne, Jason Todd & Damian Wayne, Characters: Damian Wayne, Ra's al Ghul, Bruce Wayne, Talia al Ghul, Jason Todd, Alfred Pennyworth,

Summary:

In an alternate earth where Ra's and Bruce's allyship (as appearing in Batman: Son of the Demon) works out, and where he was raised by both their parents with their families at peace, Damian Wayne-Al Ghul --now raised as anything but an assassin-- finds himself with much more mundane kindergarten problems than if he were a child soldier; homework being the prime opponent. At first, the kindergarten-level "fun homework" type questions are easy for him, causing no stress at all, until one much more puzzling question comes up. Despite his usual intelligence, Damian cannot seem to think of what his parents names are. With the paper due tomorrow morning, and fate constantly edging at his back to keep him from getting his much-needed answers, will Damian be able to find an answer before his school-day bedtime gets the best of him? And if so, will the answer he gets truly be worth all his effort?

But most of all, Damian's biggest doubts lie in a completely different question... is 'Beloved' a real name?

Part 2 of 3 (8.2k of 24.2k total words)

"I was so worried he'd kidnapped you!" Bruce exclaimed.

They had all gone back inside now, and Damian's father was, unsurprisingly, immediately accusing Ra's of the worst possible outcome. Damian stared up at him blankly, blinking slowly but surely. He bit his lip, thinking of all the things Ra's had let him do– all the fun things, really, and all the things he was warned not to inform his father of. It took some tight fist-gripping to hold in the words, especially with all his excitement about those activities, but he managed.

"Why would he kidnap Damian?" Talia asked. At first, her mouth twisted into a grimace, seeming slightly offended by the accusations towards her father, but it quickly changed into a calmer look as she added a helpful comment. "Damian already has so many of your morals implanted in his mind. He's five now, and that's five whole years he's been constantly picking up on your behaviors and mindset, as well as mine. If my father was going to kidnap him and, well… persuade him into being a loyal assassin, wouldn't it be much easier to do it when he was still a naive, vulnerable baby?"

Bruce stared at her, but with a small frown, he slowly nodded, "I… suppose?"

"My father is not incompetent, foolish, or lazy enough to have waited this long." Talia continued, as if ignoring his unsure agreement, "Trust me, if he had sinister motives for Damian, he would've gone through –and likely succeeded– with them a long time ago. We have nothing to fear."

"Thank you for the reassurance, Talia… but do we really know all that for sure?" Bruce countered. He combed his fingers through Damian's hair and patted his head nonchalantly. "Your father… he can be quite unpredictable, can't he? I think I've been fighting him long enough to figure out that, with someone as insane and ambitious as himself, you really can't take any chances. Besides, out of everything to take chances with… Damian? I can't let him hurt my son. You know that. For all we know, my protection has simply made it too difficult for him to get to Damian when he was younger."

Talia hesitated with her next words. She clicked her tongue, opening and closing her mouth several times, "I– I love you…. And that is why I cannot lie to you. My father has been training for centuries– over ten times either of our life spans. You do your best, and I do my best as well, but if he is set on hurting Damian, well…" She gritted her teeth, but more nervously than aggressively.

"Not necessarily!" Bruce protested. He crossed his arms. "He views me as an equal for a reason. I stand more of a chance than you seem to think….. But even if I truly didn't, do you really have to say this in front of Damian? You're going to scare him! You literally used to tell me a lie almost every time we talked back before we got married, so I think you can lie to me –and more importantly, Damian– just this one time." He quickly tugged his arms out of crossing and rested them over Damian's ears.

"I also explained why he wasn't going to kidnap him regardless," Talia gently nudged Bruce's hands back off of Damian's ears. He frowned even harder than before as she did so, but she continued despite the reaction. Her back leaned over, putting her face right up to Damian's short height so she could look him in the eyes. "You understand you're safe, don't you, my love?"

Damian's mouth opened, only to quickly shut it again. He thought of what had happened at his grandfather's house for the second time, feeling his urges to tell it get even more intense. At this point, his lips were jolting as they pressed against each other tightly.

Instead of them again, he silently nodded at his mother.

"How do we know it's for the right reason?" Bruce swiftly argued, "Perhaps it's because he knows I'll save him, contrary to your claims. Perhaps he simply doesn't have any concept of danger yet, or he thinks that just because Ra's is his grandfather, he could never hurt him. He's so young and naive, you've got to be careful not to tell him the wrong thing, Talia! For all we know, he could be outright lying to us about feeling safe!"

"Why would our five-year-old son lie to us about this, out of all things?"

Bruce rubbed his chin, spiraling into a deep cycle of thought, "He could've been manipulated into it, just this past afternoon while he was out there unsupervised… unprotected. Ra's could've told him to lie– made him see some twisted benefit to doing so. Just because he's young doesn't mean he can't keep something like this from us, especially if there's some bad influences involved."

Damian's eyes opened wide as he listened to his father's words. Suddenly, his face got hot, and his cheeks immediately got a subtle red tint over them. His eyebrows furrowed in puzzlement. Could his father be right? Could his grandfather have manipulated him into not telling him of their scandalous activities? Was it all out of sinister intent, and he was being nothing but naive to his grandfather's plans?

But, only a second later, Damian shrugged, letting his body relax a bit more. Another thought quickly soothed his previous concerns.

Damian knew a lot of things, and one of them was that becoming a real-life ninja was obviously just too cool to get snitched on, no manipulation needed.

"And here I thought you liked being allies with my father," Talia remarked. Her and Bruce hadn't noticed Damian's discomfort at all, and simply continued conversing. She sighed, letting out the breath harshly. "Here I thought you two were over the time you spent as enemies."

"We are!" Bruce quickly corrected himself. He paused, hesitating in his speech. His eyes squinted and fingers tapped against each other uncomfortably. "But he doesn't take children's safety –as well as the things they're being exposed to, of course– nearly as seriously as I do. It's… difficult, because it's not really that I don't want him to be allowed to spend time and have an, um… influence on our son. it's just that I have to be a little more cautious, that's all."

"Cautious that he'll kidnap him?" Talia let a small smile take over her face, but it faded quickly. Her eyes bounced down to the floor. "You don't have to lie to me. I'm aware my father's influence is questionable, and I'm aware that this isn't just because you believe he wouldn't go out of his way to get Damian out of a dangerous situation as his first priority. He'll always be a bit of a, well… Demon himself. All I'm saying is that perhaps you need to give up on Damian having a perfectly danger-free life. We'll protect him forever, but there's also only so much we can do at this point, and he's still his grandfather."

Bruce rolled his eyes, but then sighed. His expression softened, "I know,"

At this point, Damian's parents had both started to drift away from him. Perhaps it was an unconscious decision which their legs nonchalantly made happen, or perhaps it was much more intentional than that. Perhaps it was to protect Damian from hearing their discussion, and their thoughts on Ra's, as well as the dangers that they wanted Damian to not fear at too young of an age. If that were the case, though, it certainly didn't work. Damian had been listening carefully, although silently, to every one of their words and, even if it was slightly harder to hear, he wasn't about to stop. Like some kind of detector, his ears scanned every sentence for the same thing.

His father's name, of course.

Damian had decided to listen to his grandfather's advice on listening to what Talia called him, but unfortunately, Talia simply hadn't called her husband a single thing so far. Damian was getting impatient. His issue of the urges to spill his grandfather's secret banging at his chest could be completely solved, if only he could just leave this room. As he continued resisting the urges, his legs fidgeted; for no reason at all, he found himself taking tiny steps backwards and forwards, throwing his feet just the tiniest bit over one another due to his nerves.

Meanwhile, Bruce and Talia were getting quicker with each word, but also softer and quieter. They stood only a foot away from one another as they talked, but several feet away from Damian. Both of them glanced back at him from the corner of their eye every few seconds.

"I've learned a lot of things since we first allied. A lot of great things. A lot of beautiful things, really," Bruce was saying. His previously angry, determined, and overall sharp look had not only softened, but now held a soft smile at the thought. "I've learned to open my mind to a lot of things, first of all. I didn't think we could work out, and in fact, I didn't think settling down with anyone would work out, but it has. Going along with that, I've most certainly learned a thing or two about kissing your beautiful lips." Although he kept in place to not get too distracted, he gestured a small air-kiss with his mouth towards Talia.

Damian instantly stuck his tongue out, scrunching his nose up with disgust. He was starting to regret eavesdropping on his parents. The agony of hearing his parents flirt was nothing compared to more teasing, though.

"I've learned that your father can be a…. Genuinely pleasant person. When he's on your side, that is." Bruce begrudgingly stated. He squeezed his eyes shut for a moment, but left his mouth hanging open, ready to continue speaking any minute now. Even then, though, when his eyes came back open, it took a few rolls of his wrists in broad hand gestures to get him to speak. "The only issue is that I also learned that Damian is more precious than anything in the world, and I can't risk his…."

More precious than anything in the world? Damian quietly hoped that included his siblings. That meant he was the favorite, and it also meant that he could never let his siblings forget about it. He smirked.

"...or his siblings' safety. Your father may be pleasant when he wants to be, but he's also quite like a nightclub or bar. Eighteen and over, no minors allowed. He's outright murdered children before, so I'm afraid it's hard to trust him with someone as young as our son."

Damian's smirk fell.

Talia nodded, "He never attempted to murder me as a child, though. If it makes you feel any better."

"Was that not a given?" Bruce's eyes widened in a mix of surprise and concern. He put a hand to the top of his forehead, rubbing his temples as the thought sped into his head. "I was worried about him manipulating Damian –which, by the way, although we can argue about the full extent of it all you like, I'm certain he did do to you, and quite severely– not him actually committing murder on Damian!"

"What I was saying was that he's not going to, alright?" Talia quickly clarified, "Damian will be fine. You'll be fine. I'll be fine. It'll all be fine."

She repeated each 'fine' even firmer than the one before, nodding to herself again as she said each one, making it seem like perhaps it was just as much to herself as it was Bruce. Nonetheless, she put a hand on Bruce's upper forearm comfortingly. Her fingers began to stroke it for a moment, just before gripping around it fully. Talia nudged him closer to her, ever so slightly, until she could easily lean towards him herself and give him a quick kiss.

"Just look at Damian. He's already doing so well– good in ways that you or I were not, obviously, but most of all… just plain happy. We both know that's what's important, Beloved. Our son is happy."

"Beloved?"

Suddenly, a quite loud voice from someone outside their little whisper-huddle interrupted their affectionate embrace. Damian strolled over, bouncing in his excitement at the word. Talia and Bruce's eyebrows both furrowed, and their mouths dropped in confusion, but just as he had with Ra's before, Damian paid much more attention to the name-calling than the reactions to his excitement. Slowly, and with confusion still plaguing every inch of expressions, his parents let their arms drop to their own sides, taking a small step away from one another. They pivoted to the side. Now, as they stood a small distance apart, their wide eyes faced Damian directly.

"Yes," Even as her confusion failed to slow down, Talia slowly began to nod towards him, which inevitably made Damian even more excited. "That's what I said. It's what your father and I–"

Bruce, on the other hand, crossed his arms, "But you shouldn't have been eavesdropping, Damian. That's rude, and inconsiderate to the person's privacy. When people are talking to one another, and they are not nearby or trying to include you, then unless you suddenly join them, you're not part of their discussion, so you shouldn't listen in. Respecting privacy and boundaries is important. Do you understand?"

Damian gulped. His eyes widened as far as they would go, gazing up at Bruce with childlike guiltiness. They quickly looked away though, but only to look at the ground. "Baba, I–"

"Unless, of course, you're doing it to create a contingency plan to save the world or something. That's obviously completely justified and for the best." Bruce suddenly stuck his finger in the air, recalling a counter argument he had against his own statement.

"Oh," Damian glanced at his mother, but then back to his father, getting quicker and quicker with the movements as he chose his next words. His head rocked back and forth, left and right with its tilts, as if resembling his different options. "Well…. Then that's– that's obviously what I was doing it for then. Just trying to save the world, as usual."

"I think he meant when you were older, Damian." Talia rolled her eyes halfheartedly, only to let out a small chuckle as she was doing it. In a single, swift moment, she slid down into a kneeling position and put a hand on Damian's shoulder. "We're aware you're not involved in those matters yet, My Son. But even if we weren't, not saying words like 'then' to his exception might make your lie just the slightest bit more plausible."

"Yes. We'll have to teach you to lie better when you're older… not right now, though. You don't need it, and besides, I can't imagine the amount of candy you'd figure out how to make us let you eat if we did that." Bruce rubbed his chin again, back to his deep thoughts for the second time. "Anyhow, what's the big deal about your mother calling me 'Beloved'? It's not like this is exactly the first time."

For a mere second, Damian smiled. Of course it was not the first time– not if it was his father's own name. Everyone called him that, then.

But only a moment later, that smile was quickly replaced with a distinct frown. Brought back into reality, he quickly realized his parents were staring down at him, patiently waiting for an answer. His breathing instantly got much faster, spiraling against the speed of his equally-fast heartbeat. Another gulp tickled at the back of his throat. As they had been a little bit earlier, his feet went back to wandering– bigger steps this time, taking him backwards and away from his parents a chunk at a time.

"It isn't a big deal," Damian sputtered out defensively, "I was just… thinking aloud. It had an entire thought process behind it, but it's too complicated to explain. I wasn't just... Surprised by the name in general. I'm not that stupid."

"Alright…?" Bruce's puzzled look came back, "I didn't say you were."

Damian stuck his chin up high and puffed his chest out for the second time that day, keeping up his faux confidence (as well as his constant defensiveness, of course). Continuing both these actions, he spun on his heel to face the opposite direction and began to march away from Talia and Bruce with clean movements. "Anyway, I must be going. Goodbye, Mother and Father!"

Damian knew a lot of things, and now that he'd heard what he needed, one of those things was that his father's name was (most likely) 'Beloved'.

He hurried out fast, yet not too fast to grab his backpack and bring it, with his homework inside, along with him. Talia and Bruce both frowned, keeping their eyes glued to his escaping trail for a moment, only to then shrug it off and go back to their discussion.

Meanwhile, Damian immediately ran up to his room. His legs dangled beneath him as he situated himself on his desk chair, right in front of a small table which he kept all his papers on. It had drawings, mostly. None of the drawings were realistic in the slightest, but with his age in consideration, they certainly weren't bad. While his classmates were still drawing stick-men instead of humans, he'd already begun drawing decently-formed portraits. In fact, his drawings hardly even cut out the neck of humans; everything was as anatomically-accurate as someone his age was going to get. Just another natural talent of his, of course.

But right now, his eyes went past these pictures, and right to the cleared off part of the desk, right in the middle. As quick as his arm could swing it out, he immediately began to feel his way around his backpack and get out the papers he needed. His fingers carefully flattened it down to the surface.

'Beloved'

Right next to his mother's, Damian swiftly wrote his father's "name". In between, of course, the word 'and' was stuck. The answer fit together in perfect harmony; both names were there, as requested, in what (appeared to be) perfect adequacy. Damian smiled– not just a smirk this time, and certainly not out of forced or otherwise fake confidence, but a full, toothy grin of pure accomplishment. His back was straight, but not too straight… just overall confident and tall in posture, despite his otherwise quite unimpressive height.

But then he frowned, and bounced up from his chair, letting the confidence disappear like a magician's trick.

He couldn't be certain that 'Beloved' was his father's name. He'd heard one person call him it, and although that on its own had been all his grandfather had advised him to do, he wasn't certain it was enough. 'Beloved' was not a name he'd heard before– now, Damian had not heard of too many names at all at his young age, but it made his eyebrows furrow with a sense of mild suspicion. He'd gone through all this trouble, so if it was not his father's real name, it would be an agonizingly wasteful effort.

Besides, he'd already promised himself he'd do better, and who was he to break a promise sworn to the great Damian Wayne-Al Ghul?

This thought process was not new to him, though. He'd already had it before, back when he'd hadn't the slightest clue what his father's name was other than a single letter. Even then, his efforts had been much too great for any type of failure.

Nonetheless, he still hadn't figured out who or what, exactly, he was supposed to use to confirm his theory. Damian certainly wasn't going to admit he wasn't certain of his father's name just for confirmation, after as far as he'd gotten. He had to figure it out some other way. He tapped his forehead, considering his options for what must have been the tenth time that day.

Perhaps he could attempt to look it up, on some document of his father's. That way, he'd have no trouble being 100% certain of it. But it would also be extremely difficult to get to, considering someone as secretive as The Batman certainly wouldn't be throwing his private documents anywhere. Damian's frown deepened. If only he were older, and more intelligent and skilled in these things, then could he have any chance of getting his hands on such crisp evidence.

His feet leaped out in front of him and began taking long fast steps, pacing around in circles. He continued tapping his forehead, letting the quiet, rhythmic sound of it get faster and louder with each tap. Eventually, it got outright obnoxious. His frustration urged him to tap it even harder than that, though, so he did.

Quite quickly, it became undeniably apparent that his only choice was to go back out there and start over with what he was doing before, a second time.

Damian slowly started making his way out of his room, and out to the hallways beyond. For a moment, he paused again, though, glancing around himself. His family was not out there –at least, not in his current sight– so he was still, to his dismay, achieving nothing. With a sigh and a small, dull frown, he trudged around the house to search for someone.

On that specific floor, there didn't appear to be anyone. It was a mansion, after all, and considering the sun still hadn't quite set in the sky so even the outdoors was in the realm of possibility, there were plenty of other places to be. Damian quickly increased in his pace as these possibilities got realer and realer in his conscience, letting his legs quickly change into doing a small jog.

He flew down the stairs with this newly acquired speed. That level had plenty of other bedrooms on it, and he knew plenty of his siblings spent much of their time in their bedrooms. Without even bothering to remember who's room it was he was knocking on, Damian skidded to a stop right in front of the first door on the left, and threw his fist on to it so swiftly that it practically came out in the same movement.

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Damian pounded on the door, aggressive in motion all while a harmless smile was plastered on his face. But the person inside could not see that smile. With an exasperated frown hanging low on his face, Jason ran over to the door and swung it open.

"Who is it and why do you need to come in so badly?" Jason exclaimed. His chest heaved up and down, fuming with heavy frustration.

His eyes, glimmering with their agitation, were quickly met with a surprisingly calm sight. At first, he looked straight forward, to find nothing at all, only to realize that the person knocking was simply too small. His younger sibling (or youngest sibling, actually) –cheeky with excitement, innocence, but most of all childishness– was staring back at him. Jason took a deep breath, letting the time serve as a countdown for him calming down with the child. Even at the end, though, he couldn't help but roll his eyes.

"Damian… What is it?" Jason asked. He took another long breath, letting even more of his agitation go in the process. He looked downwards at the child, bending his knees slightly so he was at a better height. "You seem… pretty happy. What's the big fuss about?"

Damian suddenly froze into place at the question. He, as it seemed, was not prepared for this in the slightest.

"Um…. what do you think the big fuss is about?" He countered.

Talia would sometimes answer Damian's own questions like this, when she got tired of answering them herself– or even when she simply did not even know the answer. Something about 'encouraging curiosity without it becoming obnoxious' but regardless of what she said about it, Damian knew that he, at the moment, was both tired and unsure of how to answer this question. The response worked perfectly.

"I don't know. I've just been in my room this whole time. Why do you think I was asking you?" Jason shrugged, letting out a small chuckle –so small that it came out really sounding more like a snort– at his own reply. For the second time, he rolled his eyes. "You're the one that knocked on my door so hard I thought there was an earthquake, you know, Kid. Did you really just do that for the kicks?"

Damian frowned. In a horrible tragedy involving the Joker and a very traitorous biological mother, Jason had died, way back when Damian was only a baby. His father, unsurprisingly, was devastated, and swore to get even more protective of Damian after the horrible loss, but fortunately for him, on his next Birthday, Talia came up with quite the great gift idea. Instead of giving something trivial, like an expensive watch, she gave him back his son– who she had happened to randomly find in a state not quite like death, but not quite like life, either. Her part of the gift was to (with help from her father, who had no better ideas of gifts for his son-in-law anyway) bring Jason back from that state to full-life using the Lazarus Pit. He'd been quite off when first resurrected, but fortunately, he'd managed to heal from most of the Lazarus Pit's stress, along with the trauma of his own murder, in more recent years. Regardless, Jason had come back with a much more distinct, constant sense of sarcasm (which, according to Bruce, he hadn't previously had, but sometimes Damian found that hard to believe).

"Am I not allowed to knock on your door anymore?" Damian argued, pouting. He crossed his arms tightly, squeezing the skin near his wrists. "Our father has been talking about what a 'distant teenager' you've been developing into, so I can't say I'm surprised. I just didn't realize how completely right he was. He won't be happy about this, I'm certain. Nor will any of the rest of this family."

"I'm nearly 20 years old, Damian," Jason scoffed. Making this the third time in just this minute of talking, he pulled out another exaggerated eye-roll. "If I'm only now developing into a 'distant teenager' then honestly, my main concern is how late I am on it. But anyway, is that supposed to answer my question? Did you come here just to inform me that he's throwing a fit over the fact that I, his adult son, spent a few hours in my room? Really?'

Damian paused in his speech. He pushed his expression from a basic pout to a fidgeting one, swirling his lips around as if he were swishing around water in his mouth as he considered possible responses. He pushed his fingers in between one another, uncomfortably rubbing them around to occupy his mind.

"No," He eventually landed on, "He started talking about that much earlier than just today."

"I…. don't know how to feel about that," Jason replied. His voice was quiet and stuttery, seeming just the slightest bit uncomfortable with the odd conversation. His pupils drifted to the upper corner of his eyes as his mind wandered, questionable of everything Damian was saying. After a moment, though, he opened his mouth back up to speak. "I'm going to ask one more time before I just close the door on you– why are you here?"

"No reason," This time, Damian managed to hold up his confidence much better. Even if Jason was still a bit confused, he didn't roll his eyes quite as much as before. Damian tightened his arm-crossing and pulled his mouth into as neutral of a position as he could manage, before calmly continuing his explanation. "I came to have a conversation with you, Jason. Nothing more… but also nothing less."

"Well, considering it took you forever to even tell me that, I don't think you're doing the best job." Jason scoffed, letting his strong sarcasm and snarkiness show up loud and clear in his voice again. He tapped his foot, refusing to move his body from blocking the door. His voice rose, quickly getting much louder in volume. "Damian, is there something you wanted to talk about, specifically? Because you're really making this vague and honestly, it's a bit nerve-wracking. Clayface isn't exactly a rare sight around here, you know."

Damian knew a lot of things, but he did not know why Jason was being so difficult.

"Just let me in!" Damian whined. In a matter of a single second, his voice went from confidence to high-pitched and childlike. "You know I'm not clayface, you're just saying that so you won't have to have a conversation with me!"

"No, seriously, it's a real concern in this city," Jason stated. This time, to Damian's surprise, there wasn't even a hint of sarcasm left. His tone was low and serious. "I know you only spend part of your time here because of your mother's traveling, but Clayface can really be quite a challenging villain here because of his unbelievable mimicking abilities. The issue here is that, although the real Damian would also possibly not know the extent of that, Clayface would also easily be just trying to push the focus off of himself."

"But I'm not him! I'm obviously not him! I haven't said anything clayface-y at all!"

Jason shrugged, "That's exactly what clayface would say." He spun around on his heel, turning his back to Damian. His hand gently nudged the door farther open. "Well sorry, Damian, but I got a new phone recently and I'd rather not have your mud-substances ruin it. Bye!"

As quick as his hands would move, he opened the door even wider, slid himself in, and shoved the door back shut right behind himself– and, to Damian's pouting dismay, right in his little brother's face.

Things were not over, though. Not for Jason, and certainly not for Damian.

Instead of returning back to his room in sorrowful defeat, Damian took a very different route. When he arrived at the staircase, he began running downwards instead of upwards, making his way right down to the first level, which he knew his parents to be on. They were still talking, huddled in their little conversation in the entry, so he ran right up to them, all while yelling (in an obnoxiously high-pitched voice, no less) for them as he ran.

"Mama! Baba!" He exclaimed in between pants, "Jason's the worst brother ever! He called me a clayface, and he refused to talk to me because of it, and he said I was gonna get my clayface mud all over his stuff, and he keeps accusing me of saying things like clayfaces do, all because he's being rude and doesn't want to talk to me! He's so inconsiderate and immature!"

Both their heads instantly bobbed up at the loud sound of his accusations, first hit with surprise, only for that surprise to quickly fade. Once the startle of it wore off, all that was left was pure exasperation and exhaustion. Bruce's eyelids seemed to fall half-way shut as he took a couple steps towards Damian. A loud sigh escaped his chest, blowing air right on to the top of his head. Talia followed, sighing in a way that almost mimicked his. Both their heads leaned forward, hanging with an utter lack of energy.

"Damian… what did he call you again?" Bruce asked.

"A clayface," Damian squealed," Clayface… Can you believe him? I did nothing to deserve this!"

Bruce slowly tilted his neck the opposite way, looking up through the stairway towards Jason's direction. He put a hand to the side of his mouth as he yelled upwards. "Jason! Why did you call your brother a clayface?"

Jason was swift in his reply, "I don't know. He was acting a little off, especially for a five-year-old. If you didn't want me making these accusations, you shouldn't have taught me your detective abilities. It's not my fault that I'm prepared." He ran downstairs as he was talking, quickly joining the rest of them. Once he was in their sight, he gave them a big, exaggerated shrugging gesture.

"Damian always acts off for a five-year-old," Bruce argued back. His frown got sharper as he let his head go back to leaning over tiredly. "I know you're a better detective than this, Jason. You need to be nicer to Damian, and act your age. You're an adult, so the least I expect is that, when in arguments with a small child, you're going to be the bigger person."

Jason rolled his eyes yet again, "Oh, so now I'm an adult? Not a distant teenager?"

"Believe me, you can be both." Bruce rolled his eyes right back at him, "Just apologize to Damian and we can be done with this, alright?"

"But what if he's actually clayface?" Jason argued. His eyes narrowed, glaring at Damian aggressively. He snarled, as well, but with the way his lips kept shaking out of the frowning position, it became abundantly clear that he was struggling to keep such a straight face. "You should have heard him before, saying a ton of dumb things that made no sense, all as he evaded answering any of my questions. There's something wrong with that kid. Why won't you just take my concerns seriously? I thought you were a detective!"

"There are so many reasons why him being clayface makes no sense." Bruce stated starkly, "First of all, how would Clayface know about Damian's existence? He's not even a superhero yet, Jason. He's just your average child. Clayface isn't going to go after some random child for no good reason. Second of all, wouldn't Ra's…."

Immediately upon saying the name, Bruce's expression changed completely. His mouth flopped open, letting his jaw rest at the very edge of the joint's range. Somehow even more noticeable, though, were the way his eyes opened wide and the center of his pupils appeared to get smaller in a mix of shock, realization, and most of all, fear.

"Oh my god, you're completely right, Jason!"

"Told ya,"

"Wait, what?" Damian's expression was quick to change, as well. His mouth managed to open even wider than his father's, all while his eyebrows furrowed in both confusion and pure, unbridled anger. "He's obviously not right! Why would I be clayface? You just explained yourself that Clayface would never replace me, out of all people, so how is Jason right? I thought you were smarter than this, Ba– Father, I mean! I thought you had my back!"

Bruce hardly paid attention to his pleas, "I knew Ra's wasn't trustworthy. Now Damian's been kidnapped– either by Clayface, or possibly even Ra's himself! Meanwhile, we're being infiltrated by this shape-shifting imposter. In fact, for all we know, Clayface and Ra's are just working together to bring about our doom!"

"Beloved, are you out of your mind?"

Fortunately, even if Bruce was starting to seriously believe that Damian was clayface, Talia still had Damian's back. She grabbed Bruce's arm, pulling him around to face her. All while staring into his eyes, she immediately screamed out counter-arguments. With her other arm, she side-hugged her son.

"First of all, Damian had been acting completely normal… for him, at least," Talia protested. As she talked, she pulled Damian even closer to her, squeezing him protectively. "Perhaps Jason has a point to him saying some odd things tonight, but at the end of the day, all those things sound more out of a childlike curiosity than Clayface gathering info on our family. Besides, do you really believe that Clayface could act this much like Damian the rest of the time? We've already addressed that there's no way he could know that much about Damian, since he could only study the child's movements if he was a vigilante, which he obviously is not."

"Talia, don't let him fool you," Bruce insisted. He pulled his arm away from her, "It could all be your father's plan, and he could've let Clayface have an opportunity so that–"

"...And what does my father achieve from this, again?" Talia insisted, as well. She nudged Damian behind her, now using her entire body, instead of just her arm, to protect him. "You're still allies. Frankly, this sounds like the biggest, most convoluted conspiracy theory I've heard in a good long time, and Damian better not be the victim of your ridiculous ideas."

"But he's already kidnapped the actual Damian, as I already said! Now he's got our son captured, where he can manipulate him and hurt him all he pleases."

"Um," Jason gulped. He took a couple shaky steps towards Bruce. His eyes glanced to the side, attempting to avoid eye contact and distract himself from his nerves. "I'm– I'm actually with Talia on this one. It was a joke. A bit of a prank, really, and one that I was trying to pull along for a while, but… Sorry I said Damian was clayface. I didn't really mean it, and I certainly didn't mean for you to agree with me to the extent that you might actually act on it. You need to calm down and, as much as I hate to say it… stop taking my concerns so seriously, B."

Bruce's head whipped back, turning to face Jason again. His blinking quickly got rapid in startle as he began to process Jason's confession. He slowly opened his mouth to let a quick, startled breath out , just before shoving it back shut. Then, in a sudden turn of emotions, he shrugged.

"Good," Bruce replied, "I finally got you to apologize."

"That was all a trick?" Damian asked. His eyebrows rose as he took a few slow, careful steps in front of Talia. "You did that all to show Jason the real consequences his blatant lies could cause? I must admit you scared me a bit, but… I must also admit that you certainly have your ways, Baba, and they work."

"Of– Of course," Bruce quickly stuttered out. He got a little bit closer to Damian and knelt down, as most all of the adults in Damian's life seemed to do when they wanted to talk to him. Reaching upwards, his hands gently massaged to the top of Damian's head. "Sorry for scaring you, Damian. Perhaps there were… better responses I could have taken, instead of accusing you of being Clay… I mean, lying to make Jason apologize."

"Yes," Talia nodded profusely towards the apologies, "Please don't do that again. It's one thing to do that to villains or even your adult teammates, or for me to do it to you in a sophisticated battling situation, but not… not with Damian."

Bruce nodded in return, just before pushing himself back off the ground and walking over to face Jason, instead of Damian. This time, his arms curled into fists at his sides instead of giving any kinds of affectionate ruffles. A deep frown pierced at his upper chin. Jason frowned back. Now that it was mostly resolved, Jason's nervousness had completely disappeared. As if he hadn't done it enough already, he rolled his eyes.

"Jason," Bruce began. His body stayed still as he spoke. "Lying like that is not okay. You could fool someone, ruin Damian's reputation, or even worse, get your brother in a dangerous situation. You need to be much more careful in the future, and, as I've already said, be nicer to Damian."

"It was just a bit of teasing. It's not my fault you were stupid enough to believe it." Jason argued.

"I– I didn't believe it!" Bruce loudly declared, "But someone could. That was the point. You still need to be careful what you say, especially when there's children involved. I'm glad you at least apologized for it, though. That's not as good as you simply not doing it, or continuing to be apologetic now, but it's something. That being said, if you don't have anything else nice to say, please just go back to your room."

As Jason started to trudge back up the staircase to Bruce's orders, Damian's mind wandered away from the little argument that had just taken place. Instead, his determination came zooming back in. His eyebrows furrowed at a sudden realization; he'd gotten so distracted defending himself on not being clayface that he'd completely forgotten to pay attention to what Jason was calling Bruce.

Fortunately for him, Jason called one last thing down the stairs as he departed.

"Gladly, B! Gladly!"

"B?" Damian repeated. Learning from his previous mistake, he kept this observation in a low whisper, muttering it so low that no one but himself could hear. Nonetheless, his ears felt as if they were perking up at the sound of such perfect convenience. Obviously, it was something that Jason called their father, and also quite obviously not any variation of 'dad' or 'father' but rather, appeared to be a name.

Damian had also learned from another previous mistake, though– that one being his assumption that anything a person was referred to as, had to be their full name. B, the more Damian thought about it, was much too short to be a name.

It was, of course, a nickname.

Damian had heard nicknames similar to it enough to know that, technically, any name that started with a letter could have the nickname of just that single letter, which left just as many possibilities as the sound his grandfather had previously made. Regardless, though, it could also mean more. For example, 'Jay' was a nickname the family sometimes used for Jason, and in that case, the name didn't just start with a certain letter, but started with a certain sound.

"Jay– son?" Damian whispered this thought to himself, as well, purposely parsing the name oddly to verbally confirm his theory.

A small smile creased the corners of his cheeks. It was all starting to make sense now. B could mean not just the letter, but rather, 'Be'– the sound.

"Be–loved?"

His smile increased by the second as he heard his own whisper, until it reached the point of just plainly repeating the smile he got after first writing the answer down. All his teeth, and the gums around them, showing in their imperfect, childish glory. It was perfect, and just the confirmation he needed to be confident in his first answer.

Damian knew a lot of things, and one of them was that his father's name was, most definitely, 'Beloved'.

He turned back to his parents, quickly noticing that they had stopped paying any attention to him as they moved back to their so-often-interrupted huddle. This left him free to run back upstairs, and do what he wanted with the rest of his time. With this knowledge in mind, Damian waved a quick goodbye to his parents before rushing right back up to his room.

Once he'd arrived, his eyes immediately bounced over to his desk, where the papers were still lying peacefully. The sight of it only made Damian happier. His eyes dilated with joy, and somehow, his smile managed to grow, if only slightly. With a skip in his step, Damian swiftly grabbed the homework off from the table, and turned back to his backpack, which still sat right next to the desk, as well.

Carefully, he pushed the papers into his backpack, gently pressing all the ends down flatly in hopes to not wrinkle his knowledgeable masterpiece. His mission's trophy, in all its glory, was right where it needed to be.

"Okay, now that I've gotten the name, I'm free to…" Damian sprinted over to his toy box and swung open the lid. Quickly filling up every inch of his arms' carrying ability, he grabbed out every toy that looked even of the slightest bit of interest with energetic excitement. Eventually, he'd taken out so many that it spilled over and he started dropping them, but seeing as he was close to the ground regardless, he didn't stop.

Just as he was about to start playing, the door creaked open, "Master Damian, your parents have sent me to inform you that you need to start putting your toys away. They expect you to have brushed your teeth and gotten prepared for your bath in the next ten minutes."

Damian's smile faded.

Nonetheless, seeing as his goal was achieved anyway, he did as told and got ready for bed. A while later, once everything was set, his parents tucked him in, kissed his head affectionately and then left him to start drifting off into sleep. It took him a bit longer than usual, due to the excitement that every glance towards his backpack sparked, but he still did so in less than an hour.

Next thing Damian knew, he was up, dressed, and walking into his classroom door.

"Welcome, Damian," His teacher greeted. Her face held a small and slightly forced smile, drastically contrasting Damian's own very authentic excitement and joy. He waved back, but was quick to pass by her and move to his desk, clinging to his backpack tightly all the way. He didn't even bother to stop at the cubbies; the thought of having his homework close by felt much better than dropping it off there.

As they did all their morning school activities, Damian kept it at his desk. In fact, whenever he got the chance, he returned to it, just to give it a quick pat, if not a small hug.

Fortunately for him, though, the homework part of the day came right after all the routine parts. As if that weren't good enough, he was even the first called– possibly out of sheer luck, or perhaps because during the morning meeting, he simply would not shut up about how great of a homework idea it was, and how they should get to it as soon as they could.

Either way, Damian was quite happy about it. He ran to the front of the classroom, jumping from one leg to the other with his fast speed, all while with his paper tucked neatly under his arm. Once up there, he turned to the teacher impatiently.

"Alright, Damian," The teacher instructed, "The object of this homework was for everyone to learn a bit about their peers, so just choose four different questions, and tell your classmates the answers. You can do that for me, can't you?"

Damian swiftly nodded, "Of course, Ma'am. In fact, it would be my pleasure to do so!" His voice squeaked at the end, just as he was turning back to face his class with his small smile. "Ahem," He cleared his throat as he quickly arranged his papers in front of him, still a bit giddy with his movements.

"Which questions will you be doing?" The teacher asked patiently. She'd gotten up from her desk to stand in front of her students, as well, but still let Damian have the lead. With her back leaning against the wall casually, she stood a few feet behind and to the right of him.

"I'll be starting with the question that asks my parent's names!" Damian's voice continued to hold undeniable excitement.

"That's great," The teacher blankly encouraged. Her chin bounced downwards in a small nod, nudging him to continue, "So what are your parents' names, Damian? Actually, let's start one at a time. What is your mother's name?"

"Talia!" Damian declared. While still holding his papers up with one hand, he put the other one on his hips, letting the confidence of his mission achievement possess his behavior. "My mother's name is Talia." He stated again, this time somehow managing to say it even louder.

"That's great," The teacher encouraged for the second time, "Let's remember to keep our inside voices, though, okay? Anyhow… Now what's your father's name? Can you tell your classmates that, but in your inside voice?"

Damian took a deep breath. He shook his arms and legs out, shaking out his overwhelming excitement with it. Regaining his sophistication, his parents would call it. His arms, now much more relaxed, hung loosely at his sides. Damian didn't really need to look at those papers as he recalled the name either way. A few more slow deep breaths spiraled out of his lungs before he spoke, making sure he was calm enough to 'keep his inside voice' as his teacher had asked. Once he found himself ready, though, his mouth quickly dropped open.

"Beloved,"

Author's Note:

For no good reason, I would like to let you readers know that the paragraph about Talia saying things like "what do you think?" about Damian's questions is entirely based off of Batman: Brotherhood of the Bat and the way Talia talked to Tallant about morality in that story. I will never not think it's funny how much she said things like that to him to avoid having to confront her own morality, all because Talia was just SO morally ambiguous in it and I love her for it. Also, I've gotta give some kind of shout out to that story for holding in my sanity every time I see Bad Parent Talia and being a good ol' reminder than Good Parent Talia is her original and truest characterization, NOT Morrison's crap.

I've actually already talked about that way too much on my blog, though... but just, in case you haven't heard lol.

Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this chapter! If so, I'd appreciate a reblog, reply or even a like to let me know you've been reading it, please.

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