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sophiethewitch1 · 7 months

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What We Want - Chpt. 5 - Meet The Adams Family

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

And because the world doesn't like to make much sense, it comes true. Your life is suddenly flipped on a dime, and you're stuck trying to catch up with it. Fantasy becomes reality. You're a Wayne now, apparently. Or you used to be. You're loved, you're rich, you're talented and powerful.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

The first thing you’d done when you woke up, still somehow in the Wayne manor, was pull out not-your phone and check the date. When it tells you that you are not, in fact, in some weird version of a time loop, you feel some measure of relief. The second thing you do is look your own damn name up on Google. There were over 3 million results. You have a Wikipedia page. If that hadn’t made you want to gag, the press from last night had you bumbling your way into the ensuite bathroom and puking into the toilet.

It’s still sitting on the bathroom floor, nauseous and achy and sweaty, your mouth washed out but still tasting foul, that you continue your research.

It’s just as you had suspected, your family was dead. Still dead. Well, shit. In the light of day, you supposed that made more sense. That there was no real reason to assume otherwise. You hadn’t for most of yesterday, but as soon as you’d thought that maybe there was a chance, your hopes had been dashed. Which was good, rip the bandaid off and all.

It was good. Things were good. They were fine, you were fine. You really wish you were a better liar.

Again you wash your mouth out. Root around the cabinets for some medical-grade mouthwash, do it again, and then you throw yourself into the shower. Again. You notice the soap smells like whoever’s clothes you stole. Refreshing and awakening, that mint and earth again. You think you can detect something floral in it too. It’s still masculine, but…

Wow, you are such a freak! You put down the fucking soap and manage to resist the urge to slam your head into the tiles. Your headache was bad enough already.

When you leave the bathroom, you glance at the door, and then down at your towel. Guess you’re stealing some more apparel. You find a Superman shirt, give it a judging glance, and then pick out a black T-shirt with ‘The Beatles’ across the front, and some sweatpants. You have to roll up the pant legs so you don’t trip and fall flat on your face.

One hand scrolling through Twitter and TikTok and Reddit and every single piece of social media you could find, getting the people’s source of news and you get the high overlords’ one when you turn on the huge TV attached to the wall. The remote kind of confuses you at first, but you manage to find the good ol’ Gotham news channel.

Immediately, you’re greeted by your miserable mascara-streaked face. You turn the TV off. You take a deep breath. Turn it back on. Luckily it’s not just you getting your private moment of trauma blasted open in the media. Your party had been filled with Gotham’s elite, after all. You weren’t the only rich idiot left crying by the side of the road.

You weren’t the only one who had to suffer. There had been twenty-eight casualties, in total. A small amount, considering the man behind the deaths. The Joker wasn’t known for his cleanliness. You tell yourself that, and yet still, you can’t make them just numbers. They’d been standing right next to you, after all. All in the same boat, all waiting for the axe to swing, secretly hoping you’re the one who lives to the next day. Only one of the party guests had been shot, and that’s because you think they’d personally pissed off the Joker. That’s what Twitter says, anyway. There were multiple video recordings of the altercation, and it didn’t look like he’d been the smartest banana in the bunch. The TV is a lot sweeter on the dead soul.

You feel sorry for all the dead. You still don’t think this rich heir should be the face you see, though. When you check his name, you find several forgotten assault cases. Assault, rape, just like that disappearing bastard had tried to do to you. That female janitor you’d seen shot had done more for this city than that guy ever had.

Did her family know? Did she have a family? Someone to mourn her? You’d never thought about that before. How many people out there wouldn’t have anyone to even remember them?

It’s none of your business, in the end.

After a whiles more research, you switch the TV off and tuck your cracked phone into the sweatpants. You know where your mother’s grave is, on the west side of the estate. Wikipedia knew all, which was now kind of creepy to you as it knew all about you as well. Really, you couldn’t believe it. Your mother, buried with the Waynes? You’d always thought she should find someone new, someone who’d appreciate her, unlike your father who had dipped as soon as Sam was born.

You couldn’t even remember the guy. Still, you remembered that he’d smelled bad and made your Mum do everything, and was just generally all around the worst choice for a husband.

But, Jesus Christ, Bruce Wayne? Absolute insanity. You had no idea how the two of them would’ve even met. Let alone fall in love and get married. Your mother was one of the loveliest women on earth but… they had absolutely nothing in common, other than having troublesome kids. And you hadn’t seen her getting lovey-dovey with the other PTA mums.

You walk out of the room you’ve borrowed and into the hallway. In the light of day, the Wayne manor is much less creepy, and you can find it in yourself to appreciate the antique space. Warm sunlight falls over dark oak furniture, illuminating your bare feet as you walk along the Persian rug. Your fingers trail along all the tiny little decorations, some annoying part of you demanding you leave traces of yourself behind. Your fingerprints dirty an old clock, a golden candelabra, a lamp and a tiny spinning globe.

You might’ve gotten lost in a place this huge if you couldn’t hear people’s voices floating down the halls. They were too far away for you to be able to tell what they were saying, but you could still hear them. They’re to the west, so you’re definitely going to have to go past them.

You follow the voices and eventually come to a stop in a hallway. You can smell food. Good, real food. The type that makes your instant-ramen-powered body salivate. The people are in the kitchen, right around the corner. You duck your head and quickly sneak past the mostly closed doorway. On the other side, you pause, your curious self unable to leave just yet.

“She needs help,” Bruce says, and you mentally curse. Balls. You didn’t want to hear this. You guess this was instant karma for snooping. Maybe they weren’t talking about you?

Why did that sound very unlikely…

“She went through a lot last night,” he continues, which, well, yes, you did go through a lot, “And he said that she saw a woman get shot right in front of her. It makes sense if she doesn’t want to talk yet.”

He? Who’s he? Who ratted you out? Wait, dumb question, the four other witnesses who saw the janitor get shot. You were still pretty sure the Waynes weren’t supposed to know that, but everybody knew those GCPD pigs were always just a dollar away from whatever you wanted them to do. It’s not surprising that the Waynes know details only the police should know at the moment.

…It is a bit disappointing, though. You chose to have hope in them, that they’d gotten that information legally. Your fatal obsession with the Waynes wasn’t going to disappear after one miserable party. You wished it would.

“She was acting strange before that,” Timothy Jackson Drake’s smooth voice drifts from the kitchen. You were still a little starry-eyed over him, which was… bad, you think. It’d definitely make whatever relationship the two of you had been forced into a whole lot more difficult. It did not need to be any more difficult.

“Are you accusing her of something?” Bruce Thomas Wayne’s voice is gravelly in comparison, angry, maybe. Also, ‘accusing’? What could he even be accusing you of? It was pretty obvious you weren’t capable of anything nefarious, you were far too stupid for that. You were a plastic bag drifting along the Gotham river, barely able to affect which direction you flowed in.

“God no. And I definitely wouldn’t do it with her listening, that’d be rude.”

Your breath hitches, and you push off from the wall. Busted, damn. Your face feels unbelievably hot. As you leave, you can hear Mr Wayne scolding his adopted son. You walk until you can’t hear their voices anymore, and then a little further, finding an exit door.

You stumble out onto a stone staircase, probably a servants’ one in the olden days. You move down it, hand gripping the railing. You’re barely conscious of where you’re going. There’s a path that leads away from the stone manor and further into the estate, and you follow it. When you spot a small gated area, with stone obelisks and angel statues, you veer off the path and onto the grass.

Hissing out a breath, it’s only now you realise you went outside without any shoes on. Your toes curl in the cold, wet grass. It’s a miserable feeling, and you want to walk right back inside. And then you think about the awkward conversation waiting for you, take a breath and keep going. The gates swing open easily under your hand, the golden embossed ‘W’ glinting in the light.

A guardian angel stands before you. Its stone face is disapproving, glaring down at you from above. ‘Interloper,’ it calls you, but you move past it without pausing. It’s pretty obvious which graves are the new ones and which are the old ones. They’re all clean and well-kept, but the ones to the left have dates going back hundreds of years, and the ones to the right only decades. Your eyes follow the rows of graves. Thomas Wayne, Martha Wayne…

Your breath whistles out of you, nearly muffled by the grey morning wind.

And your mother. She has a different last name, now another Wayne. Your siblings don’t, which makes sense. You’re surprised to find many of your extended family also in this graveyard. Your grandmother. Your uncle and aunt. A few of your cousins.

It’s cold this morning, and you’re out here with only a thin T-shirt on. Shivering, you rub your palms against your bare arms. It doesn’t do much. Still, you don’t want to go inside yet. Instead, you crouch in front of Sam’s grave, eyes reading the tiny epitaph. It’s not the one you wrote.

‘Beloved Son and Brother.’

Simple, clean-cut, formal… unfamiliar, you suppose. Yours had been much more flowery, ‘All the colour in the world is gone without you’. It was a bit silly, but you’d never said you were a poet. You’d just known you’d wanted something that represented them, if poorly.

Sam was a beloved son and brother. But that wasn’t who he chose to be. He liked colours. He’d change his favourite every other day, so he liked everything rainbow. It made it easier to choose which one he’d like next, he said. You were always buying him more and more coloured pencils because he’d wear them all down to the tips, he dyed the cat a bright red headache, much to your mother’s horror, and considered it his personal job to make every single birthday, christmas, and easter card. He’d paint on the walls in washable markers, and you’d often been the one to volunteer to help him get it all down. In school, he always had the best art project out of the entire class, even if you were slightly biased.

He was a colourful kid. He wasn’t… a plain grey tombstone. Nothing to help remember him, because you were always losing more and more of their precious memories.

The others had similarly impersonal graves. Just what they were, not who. Mother, sister. Nothing that spoke of how they’d lived their lives, what the world had lost when they’d died. It was… you didn’t think it was right. It was a disaster, really. Even when you’d had to rely on the Wanye Foundation donations, you’d managed a better resting place than this.

You suppose you’d never gotten them into the Wayne family’s personal graveyard, though. That was a bit of an upgrade, you guess.

“You need to come back inside. You’re worrying my father.”

“Jesus Christ!” you shriek, leaping backward. Your foot catches on one of the cobblestones, and you end up tipping back farther than you mean to, your ass bruising against the ground. You bump another gravestone, and there’s a horrible moment where it gives a little and you think it’s going to knock over.

It doesn’t. A shining miracle on your day.

From your slightly wet seat on the ground, you look up, finding one such Damian Al Ghul-Wayne. His towering height is the first thing you notice, second his stunning emerald green eyes. Both were incredibly shocking in their own ways, but his height really was almost dizzying. Perfect brown skin and a stylish 'long on the top, short on the sides’ black haircut, paired with the sort of face some European model might have, all come together to make sure you feel as pathetic as possible. His posh-looking outfit doesn’t help.

Neither does the fact he just watches you. He doesn’t even pretend to bend over to help you up. Which you’re sort of grateful for, honestly. It’d just make you more embarrassed. You didn’t know if you could hold the hand of your celebrity crush and… well, be normal. Pretend to be normal. You weren’t doing a very good job of it anyway.

You have to wonder, which was the worst introduction? The drunk, the bloody, or the one where you fell on your ass? God, you really are screwing this all the way up. You wonder how you’re inevitably going to make it even worse. There’s a part of you that desperately doesn’t want to meet any of the other Waynes, even as another part of you is screaming that it needs to.

If they knew they had a fangirl in their graveyard, you’re sure they’d kick you out. That was why you were lying about everything, not because you had intimacy issues.

Stop thinking, you idiot! You’re only making things more difficult for yourself with all your worrying and fretting. And maybe you should get off the ground, you looked stupid. You push to your feet, wiping your dirtied hands on the sweats.

He still doesn’t say anything when you stand, still just staring at you. His open staring is far too intimidating, so you scrounge for something to say.

“Your father? You- Is he alright?” you stammer over your words, giving Damian Wayne an awkward smile. He doesn’t return it, instead canting his head towards one of the windows.

You look toward where Damian Wayne gestured to, find nothing but an empty window frame, and then back to the ridiculously tall man. You swear, the guy had grown like a bean pole. He had to be something ridiculous, like 6’5, or maybe more. You were fairly certain you’d been taller than him at twelve, or thirteen, whenever it was he was first introduced to the world as Damian Wayne. Now, now… not so much.

“There’s nobody in there?” you ask, like you’re questioning your sanity. You are.

“My father’s shy,” He says, coolly shrugging one shoulder.

What. Bruce Wayne? Shy? Was he joking or something?

Damian Wayne stares down at you with narrowed green eyes, and dark brows in a harsh frown. His arms are crossed over his rich kid sweater, shiny black shoes tapping against the cobbles. That’s not the face of someone who makes jokes, you think.

You swallow, mind whirring as you try desperately to fix this conversation, “Right. Okay. I’ll… I’ll come back inside, then. Sorry for bothering you guys.”

He keeps staring at you. He doesn’t seem bothered.

“Sorry for bothering him?” you correct.

Damian gives one slow, cat-like blink of his eyes, and then turns with a tsk and walks away. It takes you a moment to realise you’re meant to follow him. It takes you even longer to actually catch up with him because he’s so fucking tall.

On TV he didn’t look this tall. You feel kind of betrayed, which is weird.

As you’re walking along, getting closer back to the manor, a stick or something pokes you in the foot. You curse, grabbing your foot. Thankfully you don’t start bleeding or something. You’d already be tracking dirt all over the inside of the impeccable space, you didn’t want to bring blood in as well. It takes a moment for you to realise the sound of Damian’s footsteps crunching in the grass has stopped, and you glance up.

He’s staring right at you again. He looks even less impressed with you, raising an eyebrow and mouth ticking downward. You put your foot down and tuck your hands behind your back in a very obvious anxious display.

“You went outside not wearing any shoes?” Damian Wayne asks, incredulous.

“I was… yeah, I forgot to,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. Not your best moment, but you weren’t really having any of those today. Or yesterday. Or the day before. Maybe you should stop thinking about that, actually.

“That’s disgusting,” The young Wayne sneers, and then turns and gives you his shoulder.

You think your heart maybe cracks a little. Well, they do say to never meet your idols. Maybe whoever wrote that quote had you in mind specifically, because now you were in… this situation. Ex-step-sister. If that was a thing. Your Wikipedia page said that you said that a lot, very insistent that you had absolutely nothing to do with the Waynes.

…It didn’t really look like you had nothing to do with the Waynes, from an outsider's perspective. Which obviously didn’t make any sense, since you were… you. You were not an outsider, not anymore.

This was too complicated. You needed a coffee. With like, so much sugar it’ll make you bounce from the walls.

Damian strides up the side entrance’s staircase and through the door, leaving it open for you to follow through. You hesitate at the doorway, looking over your shoulder to the graveyard. The statue calls you names in the distance, and although you feel like a stranger who doesn’t belong here, you manage to step back into the house.

You force yourself to walk through the hallway and into the kitchen, fists clenched tight at your side and your shoulders bunched up to your ears. Bruce Thomas Wayne, Timothy Jackson Drake, and the butler from earlier. Damian Al Ghul Wayne steps around the trio, picking some drink from the counter and moving to sit at the dining table at the edge of the room. There’s an open book on the table that he starts flicking through, and well, apparently that’s the end of your first conversation with the youngest Wayne.

You did… well, alright might be pushing it. You're still going to say you did alright.

Tim Drake gives you a sweet smile, catching your attention. The silky raven hair of his heart-shaped fringe falls over his beautiful, pale face, and for a moment there you totally forget that he’d called you out earlier like that. Which was just, such an odd thing to do. His hand lifts to scratch at the buzz cut under the floppy strands of hair. The movement mesmerises you. You look away from his sky blue eyes, very quickly realising they’re robbing you of the few remaining brain cells you have. And you need those, damn it. Especially because you’d already made the decision to hide from all your problems like a baby. Negative, negative…

“How’re you doing today?” Tim asks you, giving you a friendly greeting. It’s a welcome olive branch.

“I’m good,” you lie like you breathe, eyes glancing around the space. Bruce Wayne has his phone out and a mug of coffee in his hands. He sips from the cup, his focus swallowed by the tiny screen. You glance back over to Damian Wayne. Huh, it really does run in the family.

Your neck prickles, and you glance back at Tim again. You get a brief vision of his tired, unsmiling expression, and then it’s back to the angelic and gentle smile. You smile back at him, a wretched, awful twisting of the lips that you hope doesn’t look like a grimace.

Tim’s smile turns into a grin. It’s really too pretty and makes you shift in your seat uncomfortably. Damn it all, look away!

“Would you like some breakfast, young miss? I’m afraid we’ve run out of pancakes, but I’d be happy to make some more for you,” the butler says in an awfully familiar British accent. You think you know this person, but you can not remember from where. Shit. Your memory was bad on the best of days, much less after… after an event like last night.

Anyway, the food from earlier had been pancakes. Despite the delicious scent, you really didn’t want to make him make any more food for you. You felt like you were intruding as it was.

“Do you have any toast, or… cereal?” you suggest instead, wondering if rich people even bother with cereal. The butler chuckles, and you think, ‘Oh, yeah, probably not’.

“We have both, miss. Master Grayson has a particular fondness for cereal, in fact,” he informs you, which, oh, cool. You did in fact know that, you stalker you. You’d totally forgotten about that weird fact or the weird fact that you knew that weird fact. Dick Grayson has an Instagram where he posts reviews of different cereals, which of course you have notifications on for.

“It’s more of an obsession,” Tim says, resting his palm in his hand as he… continues to stare at you. Nobody else thinks his ogling is strange, so you try to ignore it as well. Try is the choice word.

“I like cereal too. It’s normal,” you say in defence of Dick, a natural and instinctual urge.

And apparently, the fact that you like cereal is fucking shocking, judging from the open-mouth looks the group gives you. Oh no, you’re supposed to hate him, right? You’re supposed to hate them all, actually. What had you called him on your phone? Something about being annoying and a dickhead?

Swallowing your inner scream, you move around the counter and towards the cupboards. Whatever, they’ll have to deal with this new and improved version of you, which didn’t despise everyone in the room. Along with being a terrible liar, you were also pretty bad at keeping secrets.

You don’t want to think about that, so instead you turn to Alfred.

“So,” you start, “Can I see your cereal collection?” you ask, like a totally normal person. Man, this cupboard’s looking pretty head-smashable right now.

This family has more tact than yours did, because they all manage to put their eyes back to what they were doing and pretend you weren’t acting really, really out of character. Rich people. They’re good at overlooking the crazy.

“Of course,” the butler clears his throat, “In here, you’ll find Master Dick’s collection-” score! Not another fan can claim this right, “-and in the fridge a carton of milk. Are you sure I couldn’t serve it for you, miss? I understand you might still be a little…”

His voice trails off. Little what?

He glances at the others and then leans in close like he’s going to tell you a secret. Behind a hand, he whispers, “Hungover.”

Ah. Well, yes, but you were a big girl who could make her cereal, even on hangover days. Kind of embarrassing it was that obvious, though. You were usually better at hiding how much of a mess you were.

“I’ll be fine, thank you,” you say, and the butler nods and backs off. You’re pretty sure at this point that he was the one who called you yesterday morning, but you still couldn’t quite recall his name. When you were out of sight, you’d check your phone for his contact information.

See? You could do this. Stealthy.

As you start perusing through the cereal options, Tim gets up from his spot by the counter and comes to stand next to you at the breakfast bar. He heads straight to the coffee machine, and you glance at it longingly.

It’s one of those cafe-quality fancy espresso makers, with an Italian name embossed in silver on the top. Tim manipulates the machine like a master, which you’re very jealous of because it might as well be alien technology to you. You miss your shitty drip coffee, at least that dingy little machine was loyal to you. Better than George.

“Coffee?” Tim Drake offers, glancing at you. Ah, the starry eyes are back. While Damian Wayne had been a mildly disappointing introduction, Mr. Drake was just reinforcing your celebrity worship. And of course, because your brain works against you, his offer reminds you of the daydreams you’d had on your first twenty-first birthday. Coffee shop au real person fiction- a new low, even for you.

Flustered, you look up at the ceiling. The old mansion is decorated in every single available corner, the plaster above spreading across the entire surface with delicate filigree and pretty curling patterns. It’s gorgeous, absolutely entrancing. That’s what you tell yourself at least.

“Please,” you say, your voice just the slightest bit too quiet. He hears you anyway.

It’s surprisingly domestic. Of course, you don’t know any of these people past face value and Wired YouTube interviews, but… it’s quite indulgent. This is sort of your dream, isn’t it? A full house of people enjoying their morning together. Peaceful bird song drifting in through open windows. The comfort of being around people you trust, not having to perform or put on a show. Well, you are very much putting on a show right now. It’s the thought that counts, or whatever.

“What would you like in it? We have sugar, milk, oat milk, and I like having a few syrups on hand,” Tim chatters excitedly, listing off the different ingredients he has on offer. Your poor ass stares at his rich one, and you are very rudely reminded these people live in different tax brackets than you.

Who the fuck had coffee syrups in their house? You could barely afford the little treats of caramel syrup you get every couple of months. The disappearance of the middle class was one you had witnessed personally.

You rattle off a very basic, bland order. Tim looks sort of disappointed in you which… well, you could be a coffee snob. You just didn’t have the time, usually. A flat white kept you going through the day, you didn’t need anything else. And so, Tim hands you a very bland coffee, and it is god sent. You can’t imagine how good it would be if you had mustered up your courage and asked for some caramel syrup.

Huh, you could be a coffee snob. You could be anything you wanted, really. And your first thought is being a coffee snob. Good God.

“Are you going to be staying?“ Bruce Wayne asks, immediately putting you on the spot. You weren’t ready for this, you were thinking about the coffees you could buy. Oh no, you really aren’t ready for this.

“At least for now, right?” Tim Drake says, just making it all the more stressful. You let out an awkward chuckle, fingers tight around your drink.

“Oh, I don’t want to be an inconvenience-”

Damian Wayne slams his mug down on the table, so hard a crack splinters up its side. He picks the cup up, strides across the kitchen, narrowed green eyes meeting yours for a second, and then he dumps the cup in a secret rubbish can. He murmurs an apology to the butler and then is out of the room.

Okay, well, you certainly feel like an inconvenience.

The butler clears his throat, and says, “Please forgive young master Damian. He’s been having a difficult time recently, I hope you can understand.”

And you think, ‘bitch, a difficult time?! He’s not the one who almost died last night!’ but what you say is, “Of course, I completely understand. I don’t want to bother him anymore so I’d really like to leave today.”

Mr. Wayne laces his fingers together, blue eyes giving you an assessing look.

“Stay for the day, and you can leave tonight. I want to make sure you’re truly alright,” he eventually says, and the mere presence of the man has you yielding to his commands. Didn’t really matter you were an adult who’d managed to survive this long on your own, you were listening to the big scary guy when he told you what to do.

Well, that’s that! You make your cereal and have a very quiet breakfast. You can’t tell if they’re being quiet because you’re here, or if mornings are usually like this. You hope they’re usually like this. Once you’ve finished your very nice cereal (one of the highest rated on Dick’s Instagram) you place the bowl by the sink. You want to wash it, but when you ask Alfred he gives you a look like you kicked his dog. Okay, you’ll just go then.

You’re about to sneak away, when you realise Tim’s staring at you… again…? But this time he seems quite focused on your clothing. His eyes follow the double lines on the side of your sweatpants, before settling on the Beatles logo on your shirt. He hums at it. Raises his brows.

“I’m sorry, I borrowed this because I didn’t have any other clothes. Is there something wrong with me wearing this?” you ask, and then experience a moment of horror, “This doesn’t belong to you, does it?”

“Hmm?” Tim chirps, “Oh, no, don’t worry. It’s not mine.”

And then he turns away from you in a very clear dismissal. Nice, you really wanted to go hide for an hour or two. With one last awkward wave to Bruce Thomas Wayne, you scurry out of the kitchen and back to the bedroom you’d started thinking of as yours. You need to figure out how you're going to handle all this, and you're going to do it alone. Maybe with some dessert, if you can find it. You wouldn't say you think better with sugar running in your veins, but it definitely makes you more willing to deal with the bullshit that is your life. Hopefully it'd work in your new one, too.

Tim listens to your retreating footsteps, waiting till you’re far enough away to begin talking to Bruce. Humans were creatures of habit, so you’d probably be going back to the same room you slept in last night. He thinks Damian and him were the only ones who noticed whose shirt you were wearing, B’s off his game today. You’ve really managed to mess him up, to Tim’s delight.

“See? Dames was totally fine with her being here,” Tim says, cheerily enjoying his youngest sibling’s suffering. Bruce sighs, witheringly, lifting his hand to rub against the headache he always has. He’s probably noticed the excited, slightly fanatic gleam that’s entered into Tim’s eyes.

It was sort of obvious. This was all so exciting! You’d come back, sporting absolutely none of the defensive vitriol you usually have, and ate breakfast together. You took a coffee out of Tim’s hands. You’d willingly spoken to the devil, who everybody in the family knew hated you as much as you hated him, and even more than that-

You’d spoken to Bruce. Tim was sporting the idea that you’d gotten head trauma, at this point in time.

“Okay, fine. You get the mission, but-” Tim has to resist the urge to clap his hands together like a gleeful child “-but no extra cameras. I’m serious, Tim, if I find out you’ve invaded her privacy just after she’s starting to warm up to us again-”

“She wouldn’t know,” Tim complains, cutting the Bat off with a roll of his eyes.

“She’s smarter than you’d think,” Bruce shakes his head. Tim has to disagree, after the catastrophe that was last night. Unless of course, you were just playing with them all. So many options, it’s dizzying.

“We’ll shelve that argument for later. So, I want full control of the case, and in turn, I’ll do another two weeks as CEO,” Tim waves off Bruce’s complaints, going straight into haggling. The CEO position was tossed between the two of them like a hot potato, and it was one of Tim’s favourite bargaining tools.

“I am absolutely not agreeing to that, a month and nothing less.”

“This is why half your children don’t talk to you, but sure, whatever. Chase away your last, loyal loving son-”

“My God, Tim. Three fucking weeks, and if I hear another word I will hand this matter over to Grayson,” Bruce sighs, sounding a bit defeated.

Tim gives an offended gasp, placing his hand against his chest. And then he realises Bruce might actually be serious, and freaks out a bit.

“He’d be bad for it. Far too personally involved. You definitely don’t want to do that,” he says, leg bouncing under the table. Of course, the Bat notices, but he doesn’t mention it. He wouldn’t take this from Tim, they both knew he was getting too frazzled around the edges. He needed something to focus on, to ground him.

You were the perfect project. He loved his projects.

“I am aware. But the girls are out of town, and uncontactable. And I think if I gave Damian this assignment the two of them would kill each other.”

“No Jason option, sir?” Tim says because he’s a shit-stirrer and wants to get to work.

Tim succeeds in chasing Bruce away. He’s left to have his coffee in peace as the old man quickly flees the room at the mention of the son he's on the worst terms with. For the next few hours, Tim taps away on his computer, enjoying his time.

And when the front doors open, his ears prick, and a decidedly evil grin spreads on his face.

“I’m home!” Dick calls out, words travelling through the grand manor.

Tim gets up from his seat and wanders leisurely to the main hall, where Dick stands. He’s got a suitcase by his side, filled with all the things he’s brought up from the Blud. When he spots Tim, Dick’s face spreads in a familiar sunny smile. He quickly rushes to Tim’s side, swallowing the younger brother in a hug. Tim groans at the tight squeezing.

Despite his clinginess, it was good to see him. His tanned skin glowed healthily, and his curly black hair was messy over his brow. Sapphire blue eyes sparkled. He was happy to be home, despite everything that was going on. Dick always looked like he’d just gotten back from a run because he usually had. It was hard to get the guy to sit still for even a minute, much less stop parkouring over every imaginable surface.

“Tim! How’s it been? Ah, it’s so good to be home,” Dick starts, and again, Tim groans. When Dick starts yammering he never stops.

“I’m good, man. We can talk later, you should go put your things away before Alfred does,” Tim reminds Dick, and Dick pouts. It was a general rule that unless it was cooking, the family wasn’t supposed to rely on Alfred for everything.

“Alright, alright. I’ll be down in a minute! I have so much to tell you,” Dick relents, hand lifting to mess with his hair. Tim pushes him off, glaring at the man, and Dick laughs.

Tim gives Dick a tired wave as the gymnast bounds up the stairs to his bedroom. Tim watches him disappear down the hallways, and thinks, ‘I wish I could see this happen.’ He sighs, guess he’ll just have to hear Dick retell the story later. The distant sound of your shrieking voice has him chuckling. Yeah, he’ll hear about it later, he’s sure.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #batfam x reader #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

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wildesqdreams · 2 months

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canceled plans, sweet love

summary - sometimes you have to experience pain again and again, even if it's caused by friends, until you find that person who would fall into tartarus for you.

pairing - percy jackson x fem!reader.

warnings - angst (not because of our man), but percy saves the day, kissing/making out.

navigation | masterlist | request | taglist

a/n: i wrote this in one sitting, why? because this actually happened to me. am i okay? no, i'm not... but i hope u guys like it!

you know what's the biggest problem with selfless people? they usually end up as idiots, lying in bed listening to radiohead and still WONDERING how they can make others feel better.

it was 3pm. she was supposed to be back at 7. percy knew it, so he went out skateboarding with his new colleagues that he has befriended.

y/n knew it, too. she had planned the day out. well her and her friends. a lake day, a long needed reunion, since she didn't see them for quite a while.

the thing is she was so sentimental and she was waiting when she could finally see her friends again. and as she was told, they were too. but then why did the plans suddenly change? and why did suddenly everyone have to leave 5 hours earlier than intended?

a tear rolled down her face, and she hid her face in the blanket.

god, she felt so stupid. always listening. always trying. always waiting. ALWAYS CHASING OTHERS. but in the end, being left alone like a piece of shit.

it may seem dramatic. but when all your lifetime you have been the one running after and being ditched, it just makes you feel so embarrassing and lonely. so fucking lonely.

she felt something vibrate. she reached for her phone under the pillow, hoping for some apologies, but all she got was a notification from the weather app. y/n put her phone back down on the bed, closing her eyes, trying to fall asleep. trying to run away from her clouded mind.

some minutes passed, and she heard the apartment doors open. there was some shuffling before she heard a voice yell from the foyer, "hey, baby, you're already back?!"

percy.

the girl felt the nerves in her body come back alive. how stupid. such an idiot. dumb. dumb. dumb.

"weren't you supposed to be at home much later," she heard him come to the bedroom, "not that i'm complaining or anything," percy set the keys on the cupboard in the room.

y/n just hummed.

"ey," the boy went to the bed, sitting down, where she was lying on her side. he placed his hand on her upper thigh, rubbing circles with his thumb, "did something happen?"

"no, everything is fine," she put on a small smile, as she sat up, percy's hand sliding up and down her leg, that was covered with the blanket, "so, how was your day? have fun?"

percy squeezed her thigh before putting his hand on the bed beside it, the other reaching for her hair, pushing it behind her ear, "baby," he kissed her cheek, that was stained with tears, resting his other hand on the other side of the bed, traping her between his arms, "don't lie to me."

"perce, i'm fine, really."

"then why have you been crying?"

y/n shrugged, "watched a sad movie."

"and why are you home so early?"

"got bored, decided that i wanted to leave," she tried to act unbothered, but percy could see right through her. of course he could.

"y/n," he sat closer, as he put his arms around her, "fuck em," he pulled her closer.

she tried to smile, but tears started to spill again, "again, no big deal."

she heard him sigh, "i hate when you just act like it's okay, when it's not, " he rubbed his hand up and down her back, "i just wished you had called me, i would be here in a heartbeat-"

"percy-"

"i'm serious, y/n," he pulled back, resting his hands on her cheeks, "i'm here, baby, always. i'm not gonna just throw you away. if you need me, i'm here," he rested his forehead against hers, "those idiots aren't worth your tears. gods, pretty, you deserve so much better than them."

she smiled, tears still in her eyes. the girl gave him a peck on his nose, "i'll live, i mean, i have you. that's more than i could ask for."

she felt his hands go down to her waist, lying her back down, as he climbed on top of her, giving her soft kisses on her neck, "that's right, baby. just remeber that," he trailed his lips up her neck, "don't want you forgeting what you mean to me," her hands went to his hair, as his kisses traveled up to her mouth, "i love you so much, y/n."

"i love you, perce," the boy captured her lips into a passionate kiss.

but the best thing about selfless people? they are patient enough to wait for the right people to come into their lives and make all the tears and pain be replaced with endless love.

"but really," she mumbled into the kiss, "how did it go?"

percy just laughed, "let's just say we both should just stick with each other," and with that, he placed his lips back on hers.

taglist: @pleasingregulus

#percy jackson and the heroes of olympus #percy jackson fic #percy jackson imagine #percy jackson #percy jackson x reader #percy jackon and the olympians #percy jackson x y/n #percy jackson x you #percy jackson angst #percy jackson fluff #pjo x you #pjo x y/n #pjo x reader #pjo fanfic #pjo #pjo fandom

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superbat-love · 10 months

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Green Lantern: So Spooky, truth or dare..?

Batman: I refuse to play your childish games, Lantern.

Green Lantern: Spoilsport. Fine, I’ll ask someone who actually knows how to have fun. Supes, truth or dare?

Superman: Truth.

Green Lantern: Tell us about your first male crush.

Superman: Wha-? I-I don’t…

Green Lantern: You have to tell the truth, Boy Scout~

Superman: [sighs in defeat] I was a kid.

Green Lantern: Ooooh, was he a celebrity?

Superman: One day, a family from out of town drove by my house, and their big fancy car suddenly broke down. They were stuck there for a while. I saw this boy around my age sitting in the back. He looked pretty lonely, so I invited him to play baseball.

Green Lantern: Did you fall in love with his athleticism?

Superman: Err…he kinda sucked at baseball. So I tried to teach him.

Green Lantern: So he was wowed by your athleticism.

Superman: Not really, he threw me over his shoulder.

Green Lantern: [bursts out laughing] That’s hilarious! Sounds like something you’d do, Spooky!

Batman: …

Superman: We sparred for the entire afternoon and his family stayed for dinner. It was fun. Sadly we never met each other again after that.

Green Lantern: Should have known you’d go for the fiery ones. What do you think he’d say to you if you meet him again? Can you imagine the Superman having a crush on you?

Batman: He’d say you’re an idiot.

Green Lantern: Hey! Nobody asked you, Spooky. Well, what would you say to him if you meet him again, Supes?

Superman: I just hope that he’s happy now, wherever he might be in life.

#childhood memories #first love #dc headcanon #incorrect dc quotes #dc fanfic #drabble #text post #dc #superbat #superman x batman #batman x superman #superman/batman #batman/superman #superman #batman #clark kent #bruce wayne #green lantern #hal jordan

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starfishstark · 2 months

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PRINCESS AND THE SITH

NOTE guys this prompt got a hold of me, so blame @ofstarsandvibranium for the midnight horrible writing

WARNINGS 1.6K words, violence, death of a non-MC, smut (you freaks), lots of religious imagery and refrences to Qimir being god-like (he is)

PAIRING qimir x princess! reader

you and young jedi qimir fall in love when he's guarding you as a member of the royal family. you're stricken away from each other in the name of duties and responsibilities, and the love is thought to be a lost cause to you...until you see him again, holding a vibrant red saber to the throat of your betrothed.

Oh my stars, he was just as beautiful as the day he left. Even with grim over his face, and sweat glistening over his skin. The red reflected off of him in a way that she could only compare to heavenly. Oh what a horrible idea…

It was just a mistake, that was all. As a kid, she should have known she couldn’t have grown close to any Jedi. As a teenager, she should have recognized her faults, and moved past them. Not whatever happened between them then, puppy innocent love. Nothing tainted, nothing impure, simply just a love that bloomed between them, first love.

But it could never meant to be. She knew she had to grow into her royal duties, one day marry into a rich royal family somewhere out there to settle down and provide heirs for that family as she wasn’t the eldest.

And Qimir…he was a Jedi. He could never have that without forsaking what he has stood for all his life. So once the threat on the royals’ lives had ended, he was sent away. And she never thought of him again…

That was completely false, by the way. It was like every waking second after his departure was spent in reminiscence of him.

Every lesson became a guess if he would like the subject or not. Every lonely stroll became a daydream about his presence. Every late night was spent wishing he was there guarding her room from the inside, holding her in warrior strengthened arms and confessing the sweet love he had for her.

As time washed past, the remembrance faded away, until the impending face of reality dawned upon her. There was no point in wishing over something she would never have, something that wouldn’t serve her people.

She had a royal duty to be bound elsewhere and provide heirs. It was time she forgot about the boy that only stayed weeks, but occupied her mind for years.

But he stood here, grinning like a madman, but at least he was grinning.

“Qimir?” She asked softly, not daring to guess if it was him or not.

The guard took her by the arm, pulling her away, "Princess, you need to step away. Our priority is getting you to safety—”

“What do you mean- oh.”

She saw it, the reason he was grinning so widely. In his arms he held the man she was meant to marry in the crook of his elbow, squeezing the neck so tightly that the eyes started to bulge out, but her eyes stayed focused on the sheer mass of muscle he displayed. He wore white…white, like her husband was supposed to on the wedding day. White, and red that made him glow in her eyes.

“Qimir, what is this?”

“I read…” He started off, clearly his throat, trying to soften his voice. “I read about your laws and traditions, princess…” He glanced off at the man he was currently strangling, holding the end of a small dagger like saber, to his head, a look full of disgust and malice. “And this idiots’ laws too…If I kill him off, I get his wife or his kingdom…and to your laws, all you need to provide is a backup heir for your kingdom…it doesn’t matter who the father is.”

“Of course it does, it needs to be of royal blood,” She answered simply, face and thoughts going more and more blank the longer she spent in his presence. He was really here, and it was flattering he wanted to marry her, but really it could never work out he was a Jedi-

The red saber stared back at, as if taunting her to continue her thoughts.

No, no, ok, makes sense, he’s a Jedi anymore, but…if he wasn’t Jedi, what was he?

Qimir cocked an eyebrow and smirked at the ministry to her right. “Is that so?”

The Ministry looked down in shame. “No, you are wrong princess…He…he is right. The father does not matter if at least the mother is in direct blood of the throne.”

Her face dropped, looking at them equally with shame and a repulsion, and then panicking, looking suddenly at her fiance’s impending death in the eyes. “Wait, wait, Qimir, don’t be rash, we don’t have to kill him, you’ll enable an entire army of attacks, think rationally here-”

“Oh princess…” He crooned, a glaze in his eyes that never left her, not even for a second. He tilted his head, turning her fiance in tow with him. “Shh…If it’ll hurt, you can close your eyes this time. This isn’t the first time I’ve killed for you…and it won’t be the last either. Shhh, sh…close your eyes.”

“You…you can’t do this,” She tried again stupidly.

“Yes, yes I can…” he whispered, voice impossibly soft when the subject was the murder of a royal in front of her, her supposed fiance… well not anymore, a little voice in her head cooed, sounding impossibly like Qimir in that moment.

“Just close your eyes, princess, nothing to see here…the wedding will commence like normal…and nothing will come between us again.”

“Qimir, please, he’s innocent,” She whispered, tears springing in her eyes.

“Princess, c’mon now, don’t make this more difficult for yourself…close your eyes, and cover your ears.”

She glanced at the man she was strangling, taking a full moment to beg for forgiveness in herself, before she turned around closing her eyes and covered her ears. She thought she could practically feel Qimir’s grin resonating around her, and the second her ex-fiances’ body hit the floor. After a moment of silence, a hand rested at her shoulder, turning her around.

Qimir’s handsome face tugged at her heartstrings, even when she knew that the hands he touched her so softly with were stained with blood. His eyes were alike to a puppy, with hope filling a spark in them that she would marry him and they could love again, the love that never truly fades. His hair framed his face, since when was it that long? Oh she hadn’t seen him in that long.

“Ready to get married, princess?”

After the marriage, no one really dared to come near him after he so simply beheaded the heir to a million count kingdom. Suffice to say, no one would bother them for a while…especially during their wedding night. When he had face pushed against the pillow while he took his time learning his way around her body once again.

“When I-” He cut off with a sharp thrust that rendered her useless under him, whining some nonsense about how good everything felt, “saw the wedding announcement, princess, I nearly killed him that night. Almost consumed him in the force itself, that bastard, trying to take what’s mine.”

“Yours, yours, yours, Qimir, I’m so sorry—”

“Shhh, it’s ok, princess, I’m not mad at you,” he crooned into her ear, his nose tracing a line up and down her neck in comfort as he forced himself further into her, the mess dripping onto the bedsheets and down her thighs. “You didn’t have a choice, you thought you had to do it…I know you would have chosen me if you could, oh poor baby, you thought you were all alone…”

His voice was so soft onto her, like velvet that soothed all the cuts left behind by the years he wasn’t there. “It’s ok… I’m here now, princess…”

She gasped softly when he pulled out just to thrust all the way in again, his fingers coming up to push her head back into the mattress, forcing her hips higher and straightening back out. “Stars, princess, I dreamed of this so much when I didn’t have you…did you dream of me?”

“Almost every night, Qimir, missed you so much,” She blabbed, feeling tears peak at her eyes with how long he was dragging this out. “Please, please, please, need you, need you now, please—”

“Shhh, shh, baby, maybe if it’s easier, you should close your eyes,” He whispered, a mockery of the circumstances before their wedding, sending a shiver involuntarily down her shoulder. “I know what you need, just-” he thrusted again, pressing a spot inside her that made her see stars “-relax.”

She practically melted in his grip, while he breathed heavily above her, the sound like a symphony to heaven’s gates to her. Like pure bliss exploding on her skin, ever second he was with her.

“Fuck, I love you so much, princess, baby, you love me too, don’t you? Stars, I did this all for you, I fucking love you.”

“I love you, I love you, Iloveyou, Iloveyou-” The phrase became a mantra on her tongue, a prayer that died the second he started to move on her. Prayers were answered, an alter laid before her. He had the wings of an angel, and the eyes of the devil when he peered at her with such power laid in his hands. His blood-streaked hands, like the acceptance of a sacrifice, sacrifice in her name, if he was god, what does that make her? The worship he gave to her, laying practically at her feet, jumping down from his pedestal for a touch of mortality from her lips, and the dangers of being young forever when they touched.

“You’re mine, princess, no other dirty prince will ever touch you,” He whispered to her, and she knew she believed in faith when his words rang like truth itself in her core.

When they both finished, he laid next to her, curling her hair behind her ear and pressing gentle kisses to her forehead, each one like sunlight on her skin. She knew what it was like to be touched by a god.

#qimir #the acolyte #qimir the acolyte #qimir x reader #the stranger #qimir x you #the stranger x reader #the acolyte x reader #qimir smut #qimir fic

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toyogamii · 2 months

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#YUUJI: he loves you playfully. the honeymoon phase never ends, the love never stops pouring from him. he’s giddy and eager and he kisses you so often and he says ‘i love you’ like he breaths, effortlessly and instinctively. his hand never fails to find yours in a crowd, or even in peaceful moments when it’s just the two of you.

#SATORU: he loves you intentionally. every thought and action seems to be dedicated to pleasing you. he knows all of your favorite things, remembers all of your favorite places. he can’t help but buy the dessert or flower you like whenever he sees it. he needs to see your smile, needs to hear you laugh and thank him.

#MEGUMI: he loves you quietly. he slips you notes of adoring words and silently pulls his jacket around you when you shiver. he mumbles a soft ‘idiot’ when you fall asleep on your notebook from studying so late, but never fails to pick you up and lay you in bed. he tucks the blankets around you and kisses your forehead, murmuring against your skin, ‘i love you.’

#SUGURU: he loves you fiercely. he needs your attention, needs you and everyone els to know: you’re his. his kisses are fast, his grip rough as though he doesn’t know how to be gentle. but the soft whispers in your ear as you fall asleep, the way he holds you so tight and close; you know he’s just scared to lose you.

#YUUTA: he loves you boldly. there’s one thing he’s sure of in this life: you. he was timid at first, scared you would run and leave him behind. but he knows now that you’re a constant, never going to allow him to be lonely again. he yells his love to you on the battlefield, bravely proclaiming that anyone who touches you will suffer. he holds you close, always touching you, he wants assurance that you’re living and breathing and loving him still.

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deadboyswalking · 4 months

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Right after Zoro and Sanji get engaged, only hours from the proposal, they have an interesting late-night conversation.

"Gonna have to be a long engagement, Curly."

"And why's that?" Sanji asks sleepily from his comfortable position lying on Zoro's chest, "Having second thoughts already?"

"No!" Zoro replies, a bit too sharply before softening, "It'll just be a while until we can get back to the East Blue."

Sanji is silent for a long moment.

"Do you still have... family there?" he asks.

"No, but you do," Zoro says quietly, "You'd be sad if your old man weren't there."

Oh. Sanji hasn't even had a chance to think about Zeff yet, but Zoro has. Though Sanji was the one to propose, Zoro has clearly been thinking about this for a while. Zoro knows how important Zeff is to Sanji, how much Sanji loves The Baratie and the chefs there, and he's already planning for them to go back home for their wedding.

It's so different from Whole Cake Island, an unfamiliar and extravagant place where Sanji had been surrounded by detested blood relations, enemies, and strangers while he awaited political marriage to a sweet girl he barely knew. But Zoro knows Sanji and knows what he really wants, even if Sanji would never make a fuss and bring it up himself.

Sanji has never felt this loved.

"Yeah, the geezer would probably kill me if I got married and didn't invite him," Sanji finally says, his voice thick with emotion, "And The Baratie is the only place I'd trust to make my wedding feast."

"We could invite my sensei," Zoro adds, "And Johnny and Yosaku, if those two idiots haven't gotten themselves killed. I think they settled down in Nami's village."

"What about Mihawk?" Sanji asks.

"If I haven't defeated him yet, sure," Zoro grumbles, "He likes fancy restaurants and he'd probably get along with my sensei. Perona too since she'd haunt me forever if I left her out. What about Ivankov?"

Sanji grimaces, mostly for show.

"I'll invite Iva, but I don't think he'll show up. He's way too busy with his kingdom and the Revolutionary Army to go all the way to the East Blue just for our wedding."

Zoro hums in thought.

"I think you're wrong about that. Who else?"

Needless to say, by the time they finally fall asleep their tentative guest list has over 500 names on it. Even if Zoro and Sanji aren't quite as sociable as their captain (who they'll definitely have to restrain from inviting everyone he's ever met to their wedding), all of the Straw Hat Pirates have made many friends on their journey and will make more by the time they get back to the East Blue.

Sanji's last thought before drifting off in the arms of the man he loves is wondering how much advance notice he should give Zeff before his beloved restaurant is swarmed by all of the friends that the lonely little boy he saved grew up to have.

#and of course Zeff has to properly meet Zoro (when Zoro isn't unconscious with his chest sliced open)#zosan

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janitorhutcherson · 10 months

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Bf!Futturman Headcanons (Future Man)

there is NOT enough future man content! allow @dollfacedalls and i to fix that :p these r some headcanons we came up with real quick. if there are typos, sorry guys lolz. its 3am and i just typed this up bc i felt like we needed some josh futturman content. enjoy the sweaty loser boyfriend vibes!

Bf!Futturman who tries to be flirty and sexy but is unsuccessful. You've been out all day, and you've just gotten home. The moment you walk through the door, Josh is in front of you in a pair of dinosaur boxers with a huge, cheesy smile. You know why, and you know what he's wanting. You can't help but grin like an idiot as you put your bags down, walking towards him to place your hands on his hips. Before you can do so, Josh attempts to lean against the coffee table in a sexy fashion. Of course, as expected, he loses his balance, his feet falling out from under you. He lets out a yelp as his elbow hits the coffee table, your eyes wide as you run to assist him. "Baby," you gasp as you kneel. "Are you okay?" you mumble as he repositions himself, now leaning on his hurt elbow on his side, the toothy grin back on his face. "Yeah.. fine now that you're here, sexy," he says, wiggling his eyebrows as you roll your eyes, hitting his shoulder.

Bf!Futturman who is so clingy that he misses you so much, making him even want to be you. You two live together, Josh finally having moved out of his childhood home to get an apartment with you. You were at work, and Josh was upset. He felt like his other half was missing. It wasn't fair that he was off and you weren't. So.. naturally, he did what any man who was missing his partner would do -- he tried on your clothes, sprayed himself in your perfume, listened to your favorite songs, and watched your favorite TV show. When you walked into your apartment to him sitting on the couch in your dress, the apparent scent of your cherry-scented perfume in the air, Dance Moms on the TV, you gasped. The moment his eyes locked with yours, Josh froze, his eyes wide, not really sure what to say. Your eyes darted to the empty bottle on the table; your lonely boyfriend had drained your expensive perfume. Josh's eyes followed yours to the bottle as he shot up, walking over to you with raised eyebrows. "I swear, baby, I- I'll buy you a new bottle," he awkwardly muttered, rubbing the back of his neck with a sheepish smile.

Bf!Futturman who wants an ugly cat with you. No, not just a cat, but an ugly one. He wanted to find the most hideous, rattiest, mangy-looking cat the two of you could find. At first, you were somewhat frustrated with how adamant he was about the situation. You would've been much happier with a fluffy kitten with pretty blue eyes and soft fur. But no, you loved your boyfriend so much you'd given in. Josh convinced you he wanted one because 'nobody wants the ugly ones.' He claimed it was an action from the goodness of his heart, an action to save a poor kitty. He never would've said it out loud, but the reality was he didn't think the name Barthalomeow fit a pretty kitten. You ended up with a fluffy cat with huge brown eyes bulging from its skull. Its bottom teeth hung out of its mouth, and its brown fur stuck up in every which way... Yeah... it was hideous for sure, but Bathalomeow loved you and his kitty dad so that you couldn't be too mad.

Bf!Futturman gets so sucked into his game that he doesn't notice anything around him. When you weren't around, and he wasn't working, Josh did NOTHING but play Biotic Wars. He'd be so sucked into the game for hours, going to disgusting extremes to avoid having to press pause. When you were home, though, he'd only dedicate an hour or two a day to the game. This usually didn't bother you, but one particular day, you were feeling incredibly desperate for his attention, his eyes locked onto his TV screen as his fingers moved stealthily across his keyboard. You felt like you'd attempted everything. At first, you just tried his name. No luck. Then, you tried tapping his shoulder. Barely flinched. Your next action was more severe, seeing if your words would stir anything in him. "Baby," you called out, your annoyance apparent. "Hm?" he hummed with a half-assed response. "I'm going to my other man's house in a few. Is that cool?" you said from behind him, sprawled out on the bed with your eyebrows raised, your eyes throwing daggers toward the back of his head. "Yeah, whatever, babe, I'll see you later," he mumbled quickly as a loud groan left your lips. "Jesus christ," you mumbled. "Gonna jump off of a bridge, Joshy," you sang out jokingly, to which Josh responded, "Okay, baby." It felt hopeless, that was, until you had an idea. You threw your shirt off, your bare chest exposed as you pranced over to him, standing in front of him. Josh glanced over at you for a moment, his eyes widening slightly as he reached his hand up to grasp your boob before looking back to his screen. "Mm, give me another hour," he hummed, his attention once again back on Future Man. Nope, didn't work. You'd revisit in an hour when you were his girlfriend again, and it wasn't his controller getting all of the hand action.

Bf!Futturman that attempts to cook for you. Josh could not cook. This was a given considering in order to cook, you had to have good coordination and be able to somewhat follow directions. Unless in video game form, it was difficult for Josh to do both. You didn't mind, enjoying making dinner and snacks for the two of you. It wasn't until one night Josh wanted to surprise you. He'd watched a YouTube video online on how to make a baked chicken with broccoli, mashed potatoes, along with a few other things. He didn't think twice about the difficulty, already feeling like a chef as he turned off his phone. He was soon proven very wrong, as about an hour later, you walked into the door to the smell of burning meat and smoke filling your kitchen. Josh stood in the center of it all, surrounded by far too many pans for him to be making such a simple dish, many of them filled with what looked like pure charcoal. He looked at you with sad eyes, a pout on his lips. "I'm sorry, baby, I didn't mean to make a mess. I really just wanted to do something nice for you like you do for me," he said softly as he walked over to you. You embraced him into your arms, pressing a kiss to his head. "Hey, 's okay baby, we can just order takeout," you giggled, deciding to turn the oven off and leave the mess for another time.

Bf!Futturman who has no filter and lacks an understanding of time and place. The two of you were inside an art museum. You pulled out your phone to snap a cute selfie. The moment he saw the camera, he pulled you close, stiffening his entire body as he stared into the camera with a blank expression. You snapped the picture, reviewing it afterward as your smile dropped. "Seriously, Josh?" you asked as you raised your eyebrows, showing him the photo where he looked both uninterested and terrified all at once. He snickered with amusement, his nose scrunching up. "God, people are going to think I kidnapped you," you muttered under your breath. He nudged you with his shoulder, raising his eyebrows up and down. "That's because you did!" he exclaimed as he pretended to yank out of your grip. People began to stare, and Josh just snickered as you smacked his shoulder. "Shut up, Futturman!" you gritted through your teeth, rolling your eyes. God, you loved him, but oh, how he pissed you off sometimes.

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arminsumi · 11 months

Text

THE SPRING I MET YOU

GOJO さとる

He hates spring because of "allergies"; he blames his sniffly nose and red eyes on the season.

Warnings : angst (heartbreak)

Playme : First Love/Late Spring

SPRING 2006

You had met Gojo Satoru through a common friend — Geto Suguru.

Oh how many times had you heard him say, like a broken record;

"You really have to meet this guy, you're gonna click with him I just know it. You're like the same person."

You're like the same person.

Suguru'd nag you to meet Satoru ever since he entered Jujutsu High, because he thought he was... you know, just the kinda guy you'd fall in love with. And he hated to see you moping around, lonely and hopelessly seeking a lover that was certainly not "coming to you on a summer breeze" like your mother insisted.

So you met Satoru, by Suguru's demand.

And your first impression of him was: oh no; he's an idiot.

A loud-mouthed, obnoxious idiot. Inappropriate. Overconfident. Irresponsible.

And his first impression of you was: eh, she's too shy.

A put-together, attractive woman. Too proper. Too shy. Too responsible.

If you and him were words, then you were antonyms to each other.

But that didn't matter, it was just the peripheral view you had of each other; something still drew you into each other. Like the universe was drawing up a constellation especially for you and him.

What did you have in common? Nothing. What did you like about his personality? Nothing. But Satoru was always nobody but himself and you liked that. That's the thing about him that saved you from viewing him as an unworthy madman.

And you? He thought you were always trying too hard to be somebody else, someone you were not, someone you could never be — and he wanted to change that. To see what was beneath the diffidence, beneath the plastic sheet that you covered over the image of your self.

He wanted to provoke you more than anyone else, not for the purpose of eliciting a cheap reaction and feeling fleeting amusement, but because he wanted to get you out of your shell.

His heart was on his sleeve, and yours was wrapped up in winter layers even though it was a warm spring. Satoru peeled off the layers one by one, until finally he found his gold; your sweet, tender, loving heart. And once he found it he grabbed it in a way that showed he intended for no one else to steal it from him; his love, all his.

It was just beautiful from then on. You and him. Satoru and you. The two stars in the constellation that the universe specifically designed just for you and him. Only you and him.

How did the first date happen? It just happened. How did the first kiss happen? It just happened. How did the first slow dance happen? It just happened. How did the boyfriend girlfriend thing happen? It just happened.

Everything between you and him always just happened. Like Tetris blocks falling perfectly into place. Like puzzle pieces perfectly connecting. Like clockwork.

No friction, no tediousness, no miscommunication between your stars. You and him shared your minds, bodies and souls with each other.

Like you were the same person.

SPRING 2009

Satoru's face trembled and nose reddened as tiny tears rolled out of his eyes.

This was the first time he had cried in three years. And it was a first for having an emotional breakdown in public, in the middle of a busy train station.

"Satoru, I'm sorry." you said to him. "I have to start my life."

"But we've already started a life here, together!" he yelled with a broken voice, in the middle of that busy train station. People looked.

It was Spring of 2009; you were breaking up with a 20 yr old Gojo Satoru as sensibly and sensitively as you could, but he still acted like a child.

When you and him had gotten together in 2006, both of you were just simple-minded, carefree teenagers who had yet to be shaped by the hurt of life.

Oh him and his prismatic feelings, they spill out the edge at the right angle and show a display of everything you never thought he felt.

"Things have changed. I've changed, and so have you. We have to move on from each other." you said, and he shook his head and looked at you like he was falling to pieces.

"I haven't changed! I'm still your boy. C-can't we talk about this at the cafe—

"—Satoru, my train is here."

SPRING 2018

"—Sensei, the train is here!"

He was interrupted back then just like he's been interrupted now from his daydream of you.

"What's the matter?"

Gojo-sensei's blindfold soaks up his tears, but it can't muffle his sniffling or reddened cheeks and ears. His nose wrinkles up and wiggles to the side as he sniffles and runs the back of his hand under his nostrils.

"Allergies. This is why I hate spring." he chuckles.

"Aw, get allergy medicine."

"Yeah yeah, I will. You rascals catch your train before it runs off without you." Gojo

「じゃあ！」 Yuji raises a hand of goodbye to his teacher and boards the train with Megumi and Nobara.

He waves goodbye to his students, lifting his blindfold to catch a peek before the train carries them out of sight. His smile drops when they can no longer see him at all.

He stares for a long moment at the place where you once stood, and remembers two memories;

One late spring you were on your tip-toes kisssing him for the first time.

And one late spring you were waiting for your train, breaking his heart with goodbye.

I do not permit the copying/reposting/translation/plagiarism of my works. Do not steal what I've worked hard to create.

This is fictional work.

#tw: angst #angst #gojo #gojo satoru #gojo angst #jjk #jjk x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x fem reader #gojo satoru x reader #jjk angst #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen x fem reader #jjk gojo #gojo x you #gojo x y/n #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n

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bbyjackie · 1 year

Text

𝐒𝐎𝐂𝐈𝐀𝐋𝐒 𝐀𝐒 𝐒𝐀𝐁𝐎'𝐒 𝐆𝐅 — ♡

one piece social media + dating feat: sabo

》 asl brothers completed

♡ liked by lalalakoala, nicorobin and 5.3k others

_ynln: ur gf or ramen, pick one

tagged: saaaa_bo

saaaa_bo: the answer is obvious

↳ saaaa_bo: ramen 🙏

↳ ace: wrong.

↳ ace: the correct answer is me 🤩🤩

↳ marco_o: said absolutely no one

↳ _ynln: @saaaa_bo surely this is grounds for a break up 🫤

lalalakoala: okay we get it, you have a boyfriend

p1rateking_luffy: YOU GUYS GOT RAMEN WITHOUT ME?????!!!!??! ☹️☹️

↳ _ynln: sorry luf, i'll bring you next time!

↳ saaaa_bo: no wtf we are not bringing luffy, i'm gonna go broke and he's gonna eat our share

↳ ace: im gonna have to agree with sabo

↳ p1rateking_luffy: 🙁

↳ lovenami: nah sabo you're so real for that (liked by saaaa_bo)

↳ marco_o: @ace you are literally the LAST person who can say that

♡ liked by blackleg.sanji, nefertari_vivi and 6.9k others

_ynln: applications for a new bf linked in my bio.

[music: traitor - Olivia Rodrigo ♫]

tagged: saaaa_bo

blackleg.sanji: I APPLIED ‼️‼️‼️

blackleg.sanji: HOW MANY CAN I SEND IN?!

blackleg.sanji: WILL I BE NOTIFIED IF I MAKE IT IN THE WAITLIST?

↳ theroronoa.zoro: the only notification you're gonna get is one from the police

saaaa_bo: WOWW JUST CAUSE I CHOSE RAMEN OVER YOU 🤨🤨

↳ _ynln: girls gotta do what she's gotta do

↳ _ynln: OMG SABO YOU APPLIED? I LOVE YOU SO MUCH OMG STOP 💗💗

↳ saaaa_bo: wtv loser.

lovenami: omg you should've made them transfer you five dollars to apply

↳ _ynln: nami ur trying to pimp me out huh 😭🫵

lovenami: you're so gorg yn. (liked by saaaa_bo)

↳ _ynln: i miss u sm namiiii 💕

nefertari_vivi: OMG STOP UR SO PRETTY I LOVE UUU

↳ _ynln: 😭💕

ace: why is everyone happy EXCEPT ME (liked by saaaa_bo)

↳ marco_o: give me five minutes and i'll dm u a list of reasons (liked by _ynln, saaa_bo, p1rateking_luffy)

♡ liked by ace, lalalakoala and 11 others

priv.ynn: blocking him on this acc so he doesn't see this but omg this is so cute, koala caught him trying to buy gifts for me <333

ace: yo wtf why isn't he getting me prada 🤨

ace: ALSO WHAT DID HE BUY DAMN THAT BAG IS HUGE

↳ priv.ynn: IDK I RLLY WANT TO KNOW

lalalakoala: you guys are so cute together it makes me want to die 🥱

lovenami: DAMNN GIRLY UR SO LUCKY (liked by priv.ynn)

♡ liked by p1rateking_luffy, _ynln and 8.2k others

saaa_bo: public service announcement: my gf is the best. i love her sm. she is so beautiful, i am so lucky to be hers <3

tagged: _ynln

p1rateking_luffy: HEHE my future sister in law is so pretty (liked by ace, p1rateking_luffy)

↳ _ynln: AWWW LUFFY YOU'RE SO SWEET LOVE U 💕💕

_ynln: SABO STOP

_ynln: YOURE MAKING ME FALL IN LOVE WITH YOU ALL OVER AGAIN YOU IDIOT 🤓💖

↳ saaaa_bo: does this mean i won the boyfriend application?

↳ _ynln: there was no competition 💪

nicorobin: pretty girl

↳ saaaa_bo: i agree ☝️

↳ _ynln: YOU GUYS STOP IT IUBWVCEI

lalalakoala: think u feel lonely? spend the night third wheeling these guys and see how u feel then 💀💀

↳ _ynln: KOALA WE TRIED SETTING YOU UP W SO MANY PEOPLE YOU'RE JUST PICKY

↳ lalalakoala: 🥱🥱

♡ liked by saaaa_bo, ace and 8.5k others

_ynln: top scoring appplicant 1️⃣

tagged: saaaa_bo

saaaa_bo: pretty woman

saaaa_bo: hell yeah 💪🔥🔥

ace: yn check ur dms i sent u uggo photos of sabo as a kid

↳ _ynln: LMFAOOO???

↳ saaaa_bo: ACE YOU'RE LITERALLY PRAYING ON MY DOWNFALL

↳ saaaa_bo: ALSO I WAS NEVER AN UGLY KID

↳ ace: sorry couldn't hear that over that tooth gap of urs 🥱

↳ p1rateking_luffy: HAHAHAHA YOU'RE SO FUNNY ACE

↳ saaaa_bo: 😐

↳ _ynln: HAHAHA NOOOO SABO WAS SO CUTE ‼️

↳ ace: everyone she's being held at gunpoint (liked by _ynln)

↳ saaaa_bo: 😐😐

blackleg.sanji: NOOOOOO

blackleg.sanji: gotta respect sabo for treating you well gorgeous queen (liked by saaaa_bo)

lalalakoala: omg im literally gonna have to block u

#luffy x reader #one piece #one piece headcanons #one piece x reader #one piece smau #one piece imagine #one piece fluff #smau #sanji x reader #one piece headcannons #ace x reader #sabo x reader #zoro x reader #monkey d luffy #roronoa zoro x reader #sabo x y/n

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hqbaby · 2 months

Text

twenty-seven — didn’t mean it

mess it up — gojo x reader & sukuna x reader

⁀➴ when i told you i’m fine, you were lied to. when the love of your life falls for someone else, you decide to move on—by pretending to date your best friend, the campus fuckboy.

previous — masterlist — next

word count. 2.1k content. profanity, lots of tension, copious amounts of angst, mild violence

“What did Satoru mean?” Maki asks. She’s trudging through the snow beside Sukuna while everyone else marches ahead to get ready to leave.

He turns to her with a frown. “What are you talking about?”

This is the first time Maki has spoken to him all morning. She said nothing while he stumbled on through the snow like a complete idiot, suppressed her giggles unlike the rest of the group, and kept an awfully respectful distance from the guy who isn’t quite sure can still call himself your boyfriend. So Sukuna certainly wasn’t expecting her to come at him like this.

“He said you cheated on her,” she tells him, reminding him of the abundant accusations bandied about last night. “It’s probably not true, but he must’ve had a reason to believe something like that. He’s never been the type to flat-out lie.”

She watches as he stays silent, averting his eyes. She grimaces. “Did you really cheat on her?” she asks. “For fuck’s sake, Sukuna. I thought she was your best friend, why on earth—”

“I didn’t really do anything,” he protests, head shooting up as he somehow tries to defend his honor. “It wasn’t—I didn’t—It didn’t mean anything. And we barely did anything. And it was before we actually got together.”

Maki stares at him, unbelieving. When she warned you about Sukuna in the past, this was precisely the kind of thing she had in mind. He’s the type of guy who would cheat on you, the type who would make your life a living hell by stringing you along like you meant nothing to him. He’s the type of guy who would exploit your kindness and your love and care very little about the consequences of his actions.

But she’s seen the way he acts around you, the care and consideration, the unadulterated love this complete buffoon has for you. And she can’t bring herself to believe that she was ever right in her assumptions.

She sighs. “Did you tell her that?”

“No,” he tells her, shaking his head. “She doesn’t wanna talk.”

“I don’t blame her,” Maki admits. “Last night was… a wreck. It was all my fault.”

Sukuna furrows his brows at that. He stops walking, waiting for Maki to stop too and look back at him. He places a hand on her shoulder. “It wasn’t your fault,” he says. “She knows it wasn’t. She’d never blame you.”

For once, Maki finds herself agreeing with the guy (who would’ve thought?) because she knows you. She knows you’d never blame her, let alone hold a grudge. You’d rather sit there, melting under the enormous pressure of every mistake ever made, every misunderstanding ever had, and crumble beneath it all.

She wonders how dreadfully lonely that must feel.

“You should tell her,” she says to the boy. “She won’t blame you either.”

Sukuna nods, resolved in his decision to talk to you, even if he knows there’s a chance that you’ll have nothing to say to him at all.

Of course Sukuna’s plans get derailed when everyone gets back to the house and he finds you and Satoru in a serious discussion on the living room floor. The two of you are wide-eyed when everyone comes ambling in, like you’ve been caught in the middle of something private and wrong.

Satoru stands up almost immediately and walks over to Kimi who gives him a look that sits somewhere between disappointment and resignation. He whispers something in her ear and wraps an arm around her shoulder, but Kimi distracts herself by talking to Utahime and thoroughly ignoring her boyfriend.

There’s something really weird going on there, Sukuna thinks, but he can’t quite point out what it is.

But never mind that. He looks at you, still crouched on the floor, no longer looking as listless as you did when he left you earlier. You’re bundled up in a sweater he doesn’t recognize and you’re regarding him with a look he’s not familiar with either.

You look as if you’re about to say something to him, your mouth just about to open when the door to the living room swings open, Mahito sauntering in with a huge grin. He has a bag slung over his shoulder and there’s a person trailing after him. A girl.

“Look who’s here!” he says with a flourish.

Utahime squeals, jumping up and rushing to the girl behind Mahito. “Emiko!” she says, hugging the girl. “You’re here!”

Emiko is all smiles as she hugs the club president, waving at the other members who approach to greet her. “I didn’t wanna miss out on the fun,” she says, groaning as Aoi pulls her in for a side hug. “Did you already ski without me?”

“We didn’t know you were coming,” Kento tells her with narrowed eyes. He doesn’t look all angry though, his expression more akin to a father expressing disappointment towards his child. “We didn’t factor you into the plans.”

She just sighs and slumps back into Utahime’s embrace. “Oh, well, I forgive you, Kento.”

“You forgive me? Emiko, get back here—”

But it’s too late. Emiko’s already walking towards you—you stood up as soon as Mahito announced the girl’s presence—without even noticing Sukuna standing at the side. “Has he been bitching this whole trip?” she asks, looping her arm with yours as she looks at Kento pointedly. “Because I’ll kick his ass if he has.”

You crack a smile. An actual smile, Sukuna thinks. That’s something at least.

“He wouldn’t be Kento if he didn’t bitch a little,” you tell her, leaning in as if to divulge a secret that everyone else in the room can hear.

Emiko laughs, pressing herself closer to you. It’s only then that she lets her eyes travel across the room. She notes the people she doesn't know. Satoru, Kimi, Naoya, everyone she’ll have to introduce herself to later. She sees Sukuna last.

Her face twists into one of disgust, like she’s just seen a truckload of shit and the truckload of shit happens to be Sukuna. “You,” is all she says.

You follow her line of sight, completely oblivious to the string of curses Emiko is probably chanting in her head. “Have you met my boyfriend?” you ask, curiosity piqued by the girl’s reaction.

Now, if Sukuna wasn’t so busy trying to figure out who the fuck this girl is, he would’ve been over the moon at you calling him your “boyfriend.” It would’ve calmed his nerves a little, seen the glimmer of hope left in what he had deemed the vestiges of your relationship. But he misses it, too caught up in the big questions, Who is she? And why is she looking at me like I killed her family?

Emiko turns to you with an expression that Sukuna can only describe as restraint. “Your boyfriend?” she asks, eyes darting back at him then back at you. “He’s your boyfriend?”

“Yeah,” you say almost hesitantly, which makes Sukuna want to gouge his eyes out.

“Oh,” Emiko says. “That’s… nice.”

She says a few things to you before pulling you in for a hug and drifting away to join the rest of the group.

Sukuna keeps his eyes on her back, still trying to place her in the recesses of his mind. A touch of your finger on his shoulder shifts his focus back to you. He turns to you, wide-eyed waiting for you to speak with bated breath.

You just nod towards the door to the dining room and start walking away. Sukuna follows.

When the two of you are out of the room, away from everyone else’s prying eyes and pricked ears, you look at Sukuna with caution.

“You said you wanted to talk,” you say slowly. “So… let’s talk.”

After a whole morning of mulling over his words, trying to figure out what to say to you, how to say it, the best order in which he ought to do it, Sukuna finds himself at a complete loss of words. There’s simultaneously too much and not enough for him to tell you. What is he supposed to say?

So, instead of whatever it is he’s supposed to be saying, he finds himself asking, “What were you and Satoru talking about?”

Your eyes widen and you purse your lips. “I don’t see how that has anything to do with us.”

“It kinda does,” he tells you. “Did something change? Between us?”

“No,” you say, and he doesn’t believe you. So, you reach into the pocket of the sweater you’re wearing and pull something out. You hold it out for him to take. “Satoru gave it to me.”

Sukuna looks at the box in your hands and he doesn’t even need to touch it to know what it is.

“Why?”

You shrug, placing the box back in your pocket when you realize that, no, Sukuna does not want to touch the engagement ring your ex boyfriend just gave you and wouldn’t take back. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?” Sukuna says slowly.

He can’t quite place what he’s feeling. He’s confused, definitely, by the whole ordeal. He’s still a little shocked by the fact that you’ve actually come to talk to him and he’s actually agreed. But he knows that’s not what he’s feeling.

And then it hits him.

He’s angry.

Huh. How weird.

“So because he’s a fucked up jerk who drove you away because he’ll stick his dick in anyone, he thinks he can just come back and ask you to fucking marry him?” he asks, venom in each word that falls from his mouth.

You furrow your brows, now recognizing the clear anger on your best friend’s face. “Sukuna, it’s not like that—”

“He knows that you’re with me now, doesn’t he?” he asks, his voice louder than it would’ve have been if he wasn’t so fucking pissed off. “It doesn’t matter what he wants. He doesn’t count right now. This is about you and me. Not him!”

You place a hand on his shoulder. “Calm down, please.”

“No,” he says, shrugging your hand away. He barely registers the way your face falls when he rejects your touch. “I thought you loved you. I didn’t believe it before, I could tell there was something holding you back, but I trusted you anyway. Do you even love me?”

“You can’t just ask me—”

“Do you love me?” He’s yelling now. He really wishes that he wasn’t. “Or am I just some plaything you’ve used to bide your time until that asshole decides to come to his senses?”

“I wouldn’t do that to you!” you tell him, reaching to touch him again when he turns back at the door to the living room. “Please, can we just talk—”

He doesn’t mean to do it.

He really doesn’t.

His hand slaps your arm away before he realizes what he’s doing.

He looks at his hand, and he immediately wants to cut the thing off. The two of you stand there in stunned silence before Kento bursts through the door with concern on his face.

“Is everything okay here?” he asks slowly, surveying the situation before him.

You’re a few paces behind Sukuna, rubbing your reddening arm. You still look like you’re in complete shock, but Kento can tell that there are tears forming behind your eyes. He looks at Sukuna who’s looking down at his hand, and his suspicions are confirmed.

Kento’s at your side as the door opens and a few people check to see what’s going on.

“Did he hurt you?” Kento asks you softly, both his hands on your shoulders as he crouches down so that he can look up at your downturned head. “Hey, it’s just me. Are you okay?”

You feel truly stupid right now. It’s not like it hurts all that much anyway, and you’re well-aware that Sukuna didn’t do it on purpose. He didn’t mean to. If anything, he just wanted to keep your hand away from him, he wouldn’t purposely hit you.

But you feel like crying nonetheless. The whole barrage of emotions you’ve been carrying since last night, for most of your life, comes crashing down on you, as if Sukuna has tipped the iceberg and left you in its wake.

You’re vaguely aware of the chaos that ensues around you. There’s a fight, some choice words are thrown around, a few swings, a few misses. You can only assume that it’s Sukuna and one of the other boys.

Kento places an arm around you and leads you away, sits you down on a chair somewhere, continues to ask if you’re okay even if he never gets an answer. In the end, you find his eyes, your lips are wobbling before you even realize that they are. You place your head on his shoulder and you do the only thing you can do.

You cry.

#hqbaby.miu #hqbaby #jujutsu kaisen #jjk #gojo #gojo x reader #sukuna #sukuna x reader

260 notes · View notes

sophiethewitch1 · 8 months

Text

What We Want - Chpt. 1 - Not Quite An Isekai

In Which A Romantic Breaks The Universe

(Yandere!batboys x f!reader) 18+ MDNI!

SUMMARY

Another lonely birthday, another empty year. You miss your family. You're late for your bills and rent, and even then, you got robbed last Tuesday.

Still, you buy yourself a cupcake, because you need it. I mean, hey. What's dessert for if not to get over cheating boyfriends and dead relatives?

As you blow out the candle, watching the clock switch from 11:59 pm to midnight of the next day, you make a wish.

Well, sort of. Careful what you wish for, right?

(TRIGGER WARNINGS AND MASTERLIST HERE)

PREV - NEXT

You awake to the sound of your phone ringing. You slap to the edge of your couch, aiming for the rickety side table. Your wrist smacks against the corner, and you hiss in pain. It’s a few inches too high, and wood, not metal. Seems you somehow got to your bed during the night, but you didn’t remember it. Still, you get your phone. Through squinted eyes, you find the screen, its 3:15, far too early for your drunken suffering- Wait no, it’s mid-afternoon. Still, you feel tired, and you want to sleep.

You answer the phone anyway, putting it on speaker and resting your head back against the pillow. Your head doesn’t hurt that bad anyway. God was smiling down on you today.

“Miss, are you awake?” a man’s voice rings through your apartment.

Who was that? Who called you Miss of all things? Your boss didn’t remember your name sure, but he just called you ‘intern’ instead. You’d been an official employee for six months now. Right, conversation, paying attention, replying like a normal person.

“Hm, yeah, I’m awake,” you say, fighting back the urge to yawn.

“You don’t sound very awake, Miss,” the man replies, his tone familiar.

“Who is this?”

He sighs, “Miss, are you being sarcastic?”

“What? No, I’m serious,” you confusedly answer.

“…This is Alfred, Miss. Now, Master Wayne has asked me to-”

“Master who now?” you cut this Alfred off, doubly confused now. Wayne? Like, the Wayne family? The rich, philanthropist one?

He sighs again, “I understand the relationship between the two of you is quite strained, and this is a personally difficult day for you, but he insists on seeing you. Your birthday gala starts at 7, as I’ve told you, and your assistant will be over at 4. I ask that you unblock both their accounts, as I would much rather I didn’t have to talk to you when you’re like this.”

“What?” you repeat, like the idiot you are.

“Good day, Miss. And happy birthday.”

He hangs up. You blink down at your phone. And then you roll your eyes, because oh my god are Molly’s pranks getting ridiculous. You never should have told her about your weird fascination with the Waynes, she was getting back at you hard for your drunken mistake.

You make a lot of those. Well, life goes on. You’ll put glitter in Molly’s car’s vanity mirror or something.

You turn off your phone, and let your face slam right back into your pillow. For a while, you try to go back to sleep.

…Something about this isn’t right. You, like the freak you are, take a deep inhale of your pillow. It smells like you, like the laundry soap you use, but it also smells like… Well, you don’t know. All you can think about is your new boss’s wife and her awful perfume that swallows the office space like noxious gas.

Your pillow… kind of smells like that. Your first ungodly thought is that, somehow, you spent a torrid night with your boss’s wife. The second is that Molly needs to die for her crimes.

You let your crusty, bleary, stinging eyes blink open.

Hm. Why is there a chandelier in your bedroom? You shoot upright in the bed, silk sheets falling to your lap. Silk sheets you can’t afford. You look around the room, eyes widening at the space. The bed is king-sized, while you had barely been able to afford your twin-sized mattress. The living room isn’t in the same space as the bedroom. You can’t see the kitchen and the bathroom to your right has shining marble tiles. And even then, the decoration’s are luxurious and clean, compared to your livable chaos.

You look to your left, and your mouth drops open.

A floor-to-ceiling window, showing the Gotham horizon with the morning sun. Fog and clouds twist around spiralling gothic towers, reaching down to the people down below. You’re looking out over the bay, and you can see the Narrows barely peaking through the mist, desperately clawing for any sunlight.

The sun rises on the right of your building, not the left. You don’t have a view, you’re on the fourth floor and there’s a brick building directly across from your window. You live in the Narrows.

You live in the Narrows. You press your face to the cool glass and look down. Oh my god, you can’t see the streetside. You’re too high up. You’re somehow on the opposite side of Gotham City.

Stumbling away from the window, you do your best not to touch anything, because you know it’s all too expensive for your peasant hand. Let’s start thinking… whatever was happening to you, through. Molly might kidnap you for a joke, sure, but she was barely any richer than you, and that was just because her boyfriend lived with her. She could not afford this level of fuckery.

So… so… is this, what? A big joke from the universe? Did someone else kidnap you? You have to have been kidnapped, right? Why the fuck would someone kidnap you?

Did the Joker kidnap you? Was he coming to finish you off? End your family line?

You reach down and pinch yourself hard enough you yelp. When the dazzlingly perfect apartment doesn’t disappear, it’s much harder to force yourself not to panic. Okay, okay, okay. It’s fine. This’ll be fine, and it could still be a dream. That whole pinching thing was a myth, right? Argh, maybe you should’ve listened to Molly when she was trying to get you into astral projection.

Wait, Molly!

You go back to your bed and pick up your phone.

It’s… it’s not your phone. What was this? The iPhone 27? You didn’t keep up with those sorts of things, but it looked expensive. Everything here looked expensive.

You think you’re going to go into anaphylactic shock. Wait, no, it’s hyper-something. What was it? Argh, you can’t do this right now!

You press your thumb to the ‘on’ button, and luckily whoever this phone belongs to is not worried about their privacy because there's no password. Stupidly, you look for Molly’s name in your list of contacts.

BLOCKED - ‘Bruce Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Damian Wayne’

BLOCKED - ‘Dick Grayson’

BLOCKED - ‘Tim Drake’

‘Alfred :)’

BLOCKED - ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’

You drop the phone. Because the floors, even in the bedroom, are marble, it shatters like glass. You make a sound like a dying chicken as you watch the piece of technology make a bouncing break for the bathroom. It slides to a stop against the giant hot tub, and you pick it up and cradle it between your palms like a newborn.

The screen still works. Even if it’s cracked to high heaven and takes multiple attempts to turn it on, it still eventually does. Thanks God, won’t forget this. You hiss as you open the contacts again, pricking your fingers against the sharp edges.

As fate commands, you click on the ‘Bruce Wayne’ contact. The description is very simple.

‘Massive dickhead. Hope you jump off a building and fall like a rock.’

You go back. Click on ‘Dick Grayson’.

‘Massive dickhead’s beloved firstborn. Most annoying man on earth congrats.’

Again. ‘Damian Wayne’ this time.

‘Massive dickhead’s massive dickhead. Demon? Grinch? Somebody kill it with fire please.’

And finally, ‘Tim Drake’.

‘The only acceptable one.’

…Well, at least your kidnapper liked one of the Waynes. Maybe they kidnapped you because you were their opposite or something? You definitely wouldn’t call Bruce motherfucking Wayne a massive dickhead. Or maybe they wanted to kill you.

The Molly prank idea was becoming more sound. Maybe she won the lottery and didn’t tell you.

You click on ‘Alfred :)’. He’s the one that called you earlier and also called you ‘Miss’, for some reason.

It’s just a bunch of heart emojis. Coherent, sure.

You go back, and click on the final of the list, ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’.

‘Don’t listen to Alfred. She wants to eat you.’

She wants to what?

A knock at the door has you jumping a foot in the air and nearly banging your head on the bathtub’s lip. You hear someone call your name through the door, and you freeze. Who… how? They call your name again, this time their voice louder. They bang on the door.

You creep over to the door.

“Ma’am, if you don’t open this right now, I’m quitting! We both know Alfred contacted you this morning, and he’s going to be very upset if I do so. There’s only so many assistants in this city!” from this close, you can recognise the voice belongs to a woman. She rattles the doorknob.

You lean down, peering through the peephole. The woman has a harsh face, a perfect pencil suit and her blonde hair in a pretty updo. Her makeup is impeccable. You get the feeling this woman is also more expensive than you can afford, despite her calling your name.

Bewildered, you open the door. She slams through like a battering ram, strutting 6-inch stilettos into the space.

She huffs, and then turns around. You can see very clearly she’s trying to keep her calm, but you did leave her at the door for like five minutes. It wasn’t your fault, you thought you were hallucinating or something.

“Ma’am,” she stresses the word, “Please unblock me.”

You blink at her, “Uh, sure.”

She waits, her hands clasped together in front of her.

“Oh- oh, right now?” you stutter, pulling the phone out from your noticeably lavish pyjamas.

Wait had someone changed you in your sleep? What the hell was going on? Maybe you should be more concerned about that, honestly. Still, you do as she commands.

She watches you like a hawk as you stare at the cracked phone. Your eyes flick up at her, and then back down at the screen. Slowly, watching for her reaction, you unblock ‘The Wicked Witch of the West.’ She nods, not even commenting on what was apparently her name in ‘your’ phone.

You were still slightly concerned about the ‘She wants to eat you’ thing, but she seemed… alright. Kind of scary. But not cannibalistic.

Still, this was Gotham after all. A healthy dose of fear was what kept people like you alive.

“Ma’am, did you just wake up? It’s already 4 o’clock,” she gives you a subtly disapproving look, and your shoulders sink like you’re being scolded.

“Yeah- yeah, sorry about that,” you stammer, embarrassed for some unknowable reason. This really was just like a dream. You could tell something was very obviously wrong, but you were still going along with everything like it wasn’t. Everyday life.

You were going to focus on that, this had to be just a dream. Just go along with… this, and then you’d wake up. And if you could manage to get over the uncanny valley-ness of the very obvious wealth surrounding you, maybe you could enjoy it.

You had always wanted to be rich. This was just your brain spewing out random information. Better than the nightmares you usually get.

You’re abruptly pulled back into focus when the woman clears her throat loudly. Ah, shoot. Had she been talking? You definitely hadn’t been listening.

“We need to get you ready, Miss,” she says like she’s repeating herself. You nod, because yes, of course, getting ready.

Ready for what? You think if you ask her she’ll yell at you. So when she grabs your arm and tugs you along, you follow. She pulls you into the bathroom, sitting you down in front of the mirror on a stool. Because this bathroom has stools in it. You stare at your reflection warily, before glancing up at her behind you.

“The stylists will be here in about forty minutes, and the makeup artists in two hours,” she pauses, giving you a strange look, “I appreciate you being so cooperative today. I understand this is all a delicate matter, but I am under Mr. Wayne’s orders first and foremost.”

“Wayne… like Bruce? Bruce Wayne?” you ask, even though there’s really no one else it could be. Still, you have to check.

Because it’s impossible. Even if it’s a dream, it still feels completely impossible. There was just something inside you that said ‘that can’t be right’, even if you knew none of this was real.

You realise, quite late, that you don’t even know this lady's name. ‘Wicked witch’

“Yes, Ma’am. Bruce Wayne of Wayne Enterprises,” she answers you, pulling out her phone and flicking through it. She doesn’t even respond to what you have to assume is an inane question. Maybe ‘dream you’ often asks stupid questions.

‘Normal you’ certainly does.

“Oh… okay…” the conversation drifts off, and she makes no attempt to fill it. Aren’t P.A.s supposed to… you don’t know, fix that? Or maybe she’s not your personal assistant, just an assistant. Silly you, making assumptions.

This bathroom deserves assumptions. You wonder if the gold frame of the mirror is, y’know, real.

The blonde woman walks out of the room without speaking another word to you. You think maybe you should follow her, but instead you just sit there with your hands on top of your knees. Your leg bounces up and down, and you glare it into submission, ignoring the way your muscles jump.

You look at yourself. You look… different. The bags under your eyes are worse than usual, and your gaze sunken into your face. Your hair is sad and oily, knotted in places. Your skin is almost waxy.

You look sick. You look like… you remember, you look like…

In the light of the day, you refuse to think about it. You’re not allowed to, you’ll break if you do.

You just don’t. Even if your reflection just confirms that you have to be dreaming.

Instead, you turn your gaze to the tub. You raise your hand to your hair again. Back in your apartment, you’d had a shower. It was a surprisingly good shower because you’d invested in a showerhead with better pressure. Still, it wasn’t a bath.

You missed bathes. You get up, close the door, lock it, and sink inside the tub. You take off your silky pyjamas inside the bath, and then you toss them on the floor beside you. Sitting there, you watch through the giant window at the world down below. At the ravens and pigeons that fly through the fog, at the few people you can see through the windows and balconies.

You press your cheek against the glass. It’s cold. You’re cold.

You’re sitting in an empty bathtub naked. What are you doing?

Rubbing at your eyes, you reach over to what you think are the controls. They all look very complicated, but there’s a switch that goes from blue to red, so you turn that. It takes another button press for the water to start flowing out. Steam fills the room, and you let out a sigh of contentment.

“Ma’am! Ma’am, the stylists will be here in ten minutes, and you need to get out. Ma’am? Ma’am!”

You shoot up in the bath, splashing water over the overflowing sides. Blinking, you turn your head back and forth and then sink back down. Oh. You’re still here. You went to sleep, but you’re still here. Maybe it’s one of those dreams where you think you wake up, but you haven’t. Or, ah, something similar.

You feel so tired. You really, really didn’t miss this feeling.

Quickly, you wash your hair and body, scrubbing furiously at the oily sweat on your skin. You stumble out of the bath on shaky legs, dry yourself off, and almost trip in your haste to get out the door. Showing off your negligible intelligence, you only realise you’re still wearing just a towel till she manhandles you towards the closet.

A walk-in closet, because of course it is. You think it’s bigger than your apartment. It has a flat bench in the centre because evidently all the walking around you’ll be doing will require a fainting couch.

The woman gives you, horrifyingly, a set of lacy, racy underwear. When all you do is just gape at her, she sighs, takes them from your hands and gives you a simple black set with no frills. You look down at them clasped in your wet hands. They’re clean, and they seem to be your size.

Still, this is a bit…

“Are these… new?” you ask, because there’s no tag or anything.

“Yes, Ma’am. But if you want, we do have some sets still unpacked at the back of the closet,” she says, going along with your weirdness. Even if she was a bit scary, you were grateful for that, at least. You guess celebrities were usually quite eccentric, so maybe this wasn’t out of the ordinary for her.

“Yes, please.”

She gives you a pair of Victoria’s Secret bra and underwear, plain beige and still in their plastic packaging.

“Cool, sweet, thanks,” you say, and she shakes her head just slightly.

She puts a white bathrobe down, and leaves the room, closing the door behind her. You lock it, and then you put on the underwear that you did not buy. The whole experience is strange, but still, you just go along with it. You’re a go-along-with-it kind of person.

You were… you were starting to not like that all of a sudden. Still, out of your depth in an odd dream is no place to start doubting your entire personality. You put on the bathrobe too. And the fluffy slippers that are tucked under them, with great pleasure.

You hear the many voices before you open the door. When you step through it, you feel like you’ve stepped onto the set of a movie. Or well, the backstage at least. Women and men are flittering about the chic apartment in the sort of rush you’d only seen working at BatBurger.

The woman from before spots you and you feel like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze when her brown eyes narrow on you. She strides over to you and then, once again, clamps her grip around your wrist and drags you over. You wonder as you stumble after her if she’s got some meta-human in her because no slim, perfectly put-together lady should be this damn strong.

She pulls you towards a set of three people. You can immediately tell they’re the heads of the operation, with an aura that squashes you like a pancake. Two women, one man. They’re all dressed to the nines, in their own unique ways.

They all look at you with assessing glances. You fear you do not measure.

“I’m surprised, Jeanine. You actually got her this time,” a woman with a black bob and a rocker look comments, her red lips twisting into a grin. You realise, with a start, that the blonde woman who was not incorrectly nicknamed ‘The Wicked Witch of The West’ was actually called Jeanine.

Lovely, you were getting the hang of things.

“Yes, she was very agreeable this afternoon. I’d like to apologise once again for any past issues,” Jeanine says, all business. You still have no idea what’s going on, and definitely no idea what they’re talking about. But what you assumed was the jist of it… was that ‘dream you’ wasn’t a very harmonious person.

Lovely, lovely, lovely. This was a bit of a personal nightmare for a people pleaser like you. Actually, it was a literal personal nightmare. Lovely.

“The disrespect I’ve faced is immeasurable. But, Monsoir Wayne pays exceedingly well. Still, it’s nice to actually have our dear client before us,” the other woman says, appraising her french tip nails. Which, considering she said ‘monsoir’ and the whole accent, would make a lot of sense. She’s closer to a classic beauty than her punk rock friend, with brown hair coiled and beautiful pearls across her neck.

“I don’t know, I thought I’d be getting paid for doing no work tonight. Ruins my plans,” the man teases, and you’re relieved at the kindness in his gaze. He’s wearing a suit with a dazzling but trendy red tie. His tie has an odd metallic sheen to it, a fabric your peasant mind couldn’t place.

If Molly were here, she’d jab you in the stomach with an elbow and whisper “One of those homosexuals, me thinks” even if she was bi herself.

You wish Molly were here.

“Yes, well, I’d like it if we could all work together tonight. And get to it quickly, the drive to the Wayne Tower isn’t a quick one with the evening traffic, so, if you’d please.”

And that was that. No introductions, no extra pleasantries. You were swept away in a whirl of fabric and hair products.

They stuff you into a gorgeous evening gown, its colour reminding you of a sparkling midnight sky. Rhinestones dot down the sides, coalescing at the bottom. You hope they’re not real diamonds. Gloves, a bracelet, a necklace, and dripping pearl earrings. It was all impeccably put together, and you felt uncomfortable with such items on you. You didn’t dare ask how much it all cost, despite being desperately curious.

They slip towering 6-inch stilettos on you despite your protests, cake your face in enough powder to make you sneeze. Dramatic liner and eyelashes that felt heavy on your face, a lipstick that had to be coated twice because you chewed on your lip with nerves.

And then you’re done, dizzy and confused but thoroughly made up.

You get one quick look at your reflection before Jeanine is pulling you up and out of the seat.

They’d gotten rid of the signs.

You ignore the part of you that desperately wants them back and follow Jeanine out into the elevator.

Despite the fact that it is, in fact, a very long drive to the Wayne Tower, she does not seem inclined to say a single word to you. The ride is awkward and quiet, broken only by the sound of you pressing buttons in the back of limousine, and even that stops when you get an unimpressed look from her.

So you just sit there, vibrating at frequencies unseen by man.

When you finally arrive at Wayne Tower, the crowd shocks you. There are so many paparazzi, nearly overflowing the flimsy barricades and onto the carpeted marble entryway. The tower itself is a display of outrageous wealth, towering over the rest of Gotham City easily. You think for a while it’d been the tallest building in the world, but you couldn’t remember your elementary school education all that well.

It wasn’t like this information would’ve been useful at any point in your life. You still don’t think it will be, as this is all a very vivid dream.

The door opens, and immediately you’re overwhelmed by the camera flashing. You hunch away from the lights like a vampire, but Jeanine pushes you forward.

“We’re already very late, Ma’am. No time for faffing around,” she says from behind you, hand placed squarely against your back.

What? But all you’d done was rush around all afternoon! You know, if you’d just taken one of the trains or even the Skyrail you’d have been able to avoid this. Still, you’re out the door, up the steps, not given a moment to react to the questions thrown at you.

“Miss! Miss, are you here to celebrate your birthday? Don’t you think it’s a bit callous to ignore the tragedies of today?”

“Miss! Is it true you’ve been disowned?”

“Miss, miss, about your family…!”

Oh, well, even if what they’re saying is awful, it’s a relief. It’s your birthday again. You think the guy who had called you said happy birthday. That meant none of this could possibly be real. See? It had to be a dream. Had to, had to… You decide to ignore literally everything else they say, letting the words float through your very hollow brain.

Life’s a lot easier when you play it a little stupider.

The heels and the stairs are an awful combination, and if it wasn’t for Jeanine’s herculean strength you’re certain you’d be tumbling down them right now. Your assistant… secretary… lady is careful not to let that happen, however.

Maybe you judged her too quickly. You appreciated anyone who made sure you didn’t fall flat on your ass. It was a good quality for a person to have.

You don’t get to appreciate the Wayne Tower all done up. You don’t get to stare at the lights and flowers strung into the art deco rafters. You don’t get to stare and gape and look like an idiot, because Jeanine wants you to look like an idiot elsewhere.

In the middle of all these fucking random rich people you don’t know. Hurray!

You’re shoved into a group of people, with Jeanine at your back. She starts rattling off names and titles and relations, and you can’t make heads or tails of any of it. You turn to look at her with what must be a genuine deer-in-headlights fear, and she stops and then starts speaking slower.

Thank God for that. Well, since she’s making an effort, you do too.

“This is Lianne Jenkins, wife of Senator Jenkins,” Jeanine whispers into your ear, and you nod. You knew him, you’d voted for him, in fact. How the fuck were you here talking to his wife? She’s not looking at you, instead talking to someone beside her. She turns, and you put on the best smile you can.

The socialite physically startles when she sees your face. Great.

“Oh- oh my!” her voice stutters over your name like she can barely even remember it, “I didn’t know you’d be here tonight, it’s a pleasure to see you!”

It… it was your birthday party, right? Your name was on a giant banner at the back of the room, so you had to assume it was. Dream logic. Just- just blame it on dream logic.

“Oh, look it’s Gerald! I’m sorry my dear I really have to-”

And she just ditched you. At your birthday party. You blink at the space she just evacuated and then turn around to Jeanine. You probably give her some sort of weird Kubrick stare, and she winces. She then looks around for someone else for you to talk to. From the growing despair on her face, you can assume she doesn’t find anyone.

“I don’t want to be here,” you say.

“I said I’d quit, remember?” she replies. You think she’s lying to you. She looks about as desperate as you feel, which is a lot. You were seeing a lot of sides of ‘The Wicked Witch of the West’ today. She seemed less wicked and more generally insane. Hey, at least the two of you had something in common.

You turn away from her, eyes roving over the party. You recognise some people, because you know, they’re all rich and famous. That guy over there was in a movie you pirated recently. The one on your right seems to be someone important in online tech spaces. You think he did NFTs or something, which made you sad because you did not want that sort of person at your birthday party. Oh, the woman on the other side of the room eating canapes is an Instagram influencer, you think. The fantasy of a Wayne party gala is fading fast, falling out of the sky like a comet of fire to bring doom and death to mankind.

You are so out of your depth.

You turn back around to Jeanine.

“I really, really don’t want to be here,” you repeat, and Jeanine, shocking you, grabs your hands in hers.

“Please stay. Just for thirty minutes, please,” she begs you, her dark eyes pleading. And because you are the living personification of a doormat, you sigh.

“Alright. But only for thirty. And I’m getting very, very drunk.”

“Thank you, thank you. I’ll be right beside you the entire time-”

You decide, oh so kindly, that you are totally ditching Jeanine, too. Spinning in your dress, you make a grand effort to get away from her, but she dogs you loyally. The goliath-like heels you’re wearing don’t make it any damn well easier. Still, you don’t stop trying to outrun the tiny, control freak of a woman. Because while she definitely seems to desperate to stay near you, you are also very desperate to not be near her.

Your hand itches. Randomly, it itches quite a lot. You don’t know why you only notice what must be a bug bite inside the gala, but you do. Awkwardly, you scratch your palm with your other hand, staring down at the skin. It doesn’t look red yet, but it honestly it’s getting kind of annoying.

You sigh again, and turn to ask Jeanine if she had any lotion or something, because you assume that’s what stalking personal assistants are for and… she’s not there. Somehow you lost her, without even noticing.

You throw your arms into the air. Yippee! Now, it’s time for alcoholism, as is the answer to all problems in life. It’s what the loving and maternal arms of Gotham had taught you, after all.

You stumble your way to a wall where there’s a set of food, and a server with a silver platter carrying a bunch of champagne glasses. You stop the guy before he moves again, your hands in the air like you’re trying to soothe a scared animal.

You point at the tray, “I want that.”

He looks at you with mild horror. You thought rich people were weird, like he’d be used to something like this. It wasn’t like you were asking for the shirt off his back or cocaine or something. If it wasn’t obvious, you really didn’t know anything about what rich people did.

“It’s my birthday. It’s totally cool. I asked Bruce myself,” You bald-faced lie, like you’d ever even met the man. Like a predator, you watch the man carefully put the tray down next to the rest of the food, and then he slowly backs away from you. Well, okay, you could admit that was kind of weird. This night is getting to you. God knows this loud-as-fuck party was more overstimulating than anything you could usually stand. And so bright. What a shitty fairytale ball.

You grab one of the flutes of champagne and swirl it, sniff it, and then once you’ve gone through the polite checklist of drinking you throw it back like it’s a shot of vodka. There were people watching after all. Wait, they’d probably seen you corner that poor server boy.

Hmm, this requires cake. You choose a random slice that looks like it might be strawberry something, and dig in eagerly. It tastes fucking fantastic. The cream is sweet and soft, and the jam has a pop of flavour you totally weren’t expecting. And the cake itself was a lovely, spongy texture.

Grand. Maybe if you just sat here like a wallflower and ate food and drank liquor you could handle this. It wasn’t any different from how you behaved at Molly’s college parties.

So, you decide to work your way up and down the buffet table. Most of it’s delicious, but when you try things you can’t quite recognise, there’s a twenty-percent chance it’ll be disgusting and you’ll have to spit it out to avoid poisoning. You’re careful not to try the caviar, despite your own curiosity. You’d heard that it just tasted like salty water, and that didn’t mix well with whatever you were currently putting in your stomach.

You look down at your hand. It’s another piece of the sponge cake, wedged between a napkin so your dirty fingers didn’t touch it and you didn’t have to bother with another plate. You giggle, because it really is that good.

Ah, this is great. You could do this forever, screw thirty minutes. You eye the entrance the servers keep coming in and out of, and wonder if Jeanine would get mad if you tried to follow them into the kitchens. Probably, probably…

The question was, was it worth it? You’re debating the merits when the sound of someone's shoes stops next to you. You think it’s a man, and you consider barking at him to get away from the buffet, but decide you’ve tried everything and can probably share again. It takes great strength, though. You decide you deserve some more champagne for the kindness.

It’s after a moment that you realise he’s not taking anything.

“Oh, so you actually showed up? Colour me surprised,” a familiar, calm, masculine voice speaks from behind you. Your mouth drops open, and you spin on your heel. If you hadn’t been clinging to the table cloth you’d have fallen over, but still, you drop the champagne flute, and it bursts in a spray of liquid and glass against your dress.

It also splatters on the dress shoes of one Tim Drake.

First the phone, now the delicious drink. You really wished you’d stop dropping things.

MASTERLIST - NEXT

#Series:WWW #yandere batfam #yandere dc #yandere batfamily #yandere batfam x reader #yandere x reader #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #jason todd x reader #red hood x reader #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #damian wayne x reader #robin x reader

1K notes · View notes

merakiui · 7 months

Note

Helloooo! I’d like to order a flower bouquet + strawberry ice cream from the misc. menu as well as some lemon squares + custard donuts from the midnight menu for Scaramouche <3

yandere!scaramouche x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, nsfw, dub-con, unhealthy behaviors/relationship, friends with benefits, forced pregnancy/baby-trapping (no pronouns; reader has a pussy), modern college au note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

You’re writing a paper.

Sitting at your desk, scrolling through clothes online, you wonder if your meager paycheck will cover the shipping costs. This is all research. Research that is very necessary in the paper-drafting process, of course! You click on an outfit just as Scaramouche looks up from his phone.

Correction. You’re trying to write a paper.

“Great progress. I can really see the thought you put into this.”

“I’m envisioning it as we speak.”

“Yeah? Doesn’t seem to be getting you anywhere.” He sets his phone down and leans closer. “Last I checked you’re not writing about clothes.”

“Last I checked,” you say, mocking him, “I didn’t ask for commentary. Don’t you have anything better to do?”

A smug smile sharpens on his face. “I can think of a few things.”

Groaning, you shove him away. “No way. Not today.”

“Why not? It didn’t seem to bother you that last time when we did it before your lecture. You were so out of it you didn’t want me to leave you alone. Isn’t that right, sweetheart?”

“Not my fault I was tired! Don’t tell me you’ve never said and done stupid things when you’re running on three hours of sleep.”

“Not once,” he declares, looking quite proud. As if it’s some grand achievement. Does he want an award? “And even if I was, I wouldn’t be reduced to sugary, sappy putty.”

“I called you ‘sweetheart’ once by mistake. Get over it.”

Scaramouche rests his elbow on the desk, his cheek in his hand. “I don’t think I want to.”

Shutting your laptop, you turn in your chair to face him. “And I don’t think I want to fuck you today.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Oh, you’re gonna do all the work?”

“That’s the plan. Be grateful I’m so good to you,” he teases, leaning closer and closer until—

You block your lips before he can capture them. “I really can’t today. Paper aside, I don’t have any protection and I’m not on birth control right now.”

“It doesn’t have to be inside.” He sits back in his chair, exuding casual confidence. “Unless you want to risk it.”

You try to put enough ice in your glare, but it melts quickly. You really shouldn’t. It’s not a safe day. You really, really shouldn’t…

Scaramouche raises a brow, waiting for your reply.

Despite everything, you’re wheedled into it anyway. You’re not even sure what you want. Is it yes or no? It’s been months since you fell into this arrangement with him—the campus’s infamous lone wolf who goes out of his way to make himself unapproachable. Or, according to your friends, he’s more of a lonely stray cat in need of a friend. Scaramouche had scoffed when you told him that.

Your friends are idiots, he said with a scowl. It only made him look even more like a grumpy cat in need of companionship. Not that you’d ever tell him that. It would only serve to stoke the flames of his ire.

But right now, looking up at him while he ruts into you, sweat sticking in all the right places, his hair falling over his eyes, you’re inclined to agree with that observation. There’s a depth to his gaze that draws you in, a sad glimmer hiding behind the ardor. There’s never been any attachment outside of the bedroom. You’re not even sure if he considers you a friend.

Still, you wonder…

“Scara, do you—” You cut yourself off with a startled gasp, your nails curling into his shoulders. He’s holding you down by your hips, fucking into you like the world’s about to end. “S-Slow down. Wait, I—aah—oh!”

He sucks in a staggered breath through grit teeth, his jaw set firmly. “You’re never going to leave me.”

Your brain stalls out, and suddenly you’re not sure how to respond. He doesn’t lessen the brutal pace at which he thrusts, so you’re forced to piece together a half-coherent answer amidst your groans.

“N-Not anytime soon—mmh… Why? What’s up?”

Scaramouche lifts his head from your neck. A strange smile turns the corners of his lips up. “It’s not a question. I wasn’t giving you a choice.”

You blink back at him, lust-drunk and dazed. The horror edges in, slow and steady like invasive rot. It isn’t until he’s pinning your legs up by your ears to force you into another position that the implication finally catches up to you. You claw at his back with weak strokes, babbling futile protests against his mouth. In response, his cock throbs inside of you, pressed so deep in this position you fear the repercussions. He kisses you with much the same force, insistent on driving you into the mattress—on pinning you here until you finally submit. Until the last of your resolve withers away, stamped out and replaced with something agreeable.

“Even if you wanted to,” he says around a shaky laugh, seeming positively deranged, “you couldn’t.”

You think you should be worried, but you’re so stunned with this development that your brain can’t keep up. Embarrassingly, you cum with a strangled sort of cry, your pussy clenching tight. He hisses through his teeth, fucks you through the high of your orgasm, and then falls with you, his own climax fast like a flash.

You’re panting in the aftermath. What just happened?

Scaramouche keeps you plugged with his cock for as long as he possibly can before he’s sliding out, flaccid and spent. For now, you suspect, for there will certainly be more later if your wits aren’t about you by then.

“Pill,” you mumble, voice hoarse from crying. You shake him, hoping he’ll climb off of you and get to it. “Scaraaa…”

Oddly, for someone who never shows any vulnerability, he clings. “We’ve got time. I’ll get it. Don’t worry.”

You don’t believe him. Not when his hand strays to your stomach. His palm brushes over the area once. He sighs, wholly satisfied.

“We’ve got time…”

Nine months of it, in fact. But that goes unspoken. If not today, there’s always tomorrow. You know he won’t rest until then. Neither will you. Your heart is too big, too soft, for that lonely stray cat, and part of you wonders if he knows that.

#yandere genshin impact #yandere genshin impact x reader #yandere scaramouche #yandere scaramouche x reader #n/sfw #tw: dubcon #tw: forced pregnancy #tw: babytrapping #lunar love hotel 2023

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deadghosy · 7 months

Note

So I saw a lot of your work, and I love them. Keep it up, please. You're doing great... but I wanted to ask or well request something see if the requests were open or not so so sorry if they were but I saw your Enderman reader and I wanted to have a creeper reader and see how the hotel would react to them. gender neutral, please 🙏 .

I got these pictures off the internet, and I thought these would give you a good idea of what the reader would look like.

They could also have a humanoid form similar to this, but you could easily ignore this. I was just giving you examples or pictures you could go off of

OOOOH THE FIRST DESIGNS ARE CUTE! IMA DO THATTTT HEHHE💗💗🦆 I LOVE MINECRAFT

HAZBIN HOTEL X CREEPER! READER

prompt: Steve accidentally knocked you into an unknown portal.

Steve had a leash on you as you hiss softly smiling and nuzzling against his hand that has your leash. Steve put the leash around a fence trying to make a portal to the neither as you sit down smiling at your human. Steve uses his flint and steel as the portal is red which makes Steve back away. As he backs away, he accidentally knocks you forward into the portal.

“READER NOOOO!” Steve yelled as you hissed in a quick panic.

You hiss with a cry as you plop on your face on some blood. You couldn’t even get up as your arms were short. You were 90% of body and 10% of legs….

Soon you felt someone pick you up grumbling drunk. “What the fuck is this?” A rough voice says as they shake you making you hiss. The person turned you around to see your black eyes and full black mouth as you hiss at him. The drunkard laughs and takes you by the leash, oddly gently walking you as he blabbers about being lonely and selling his soul to some smiley asshole.

Next thing you know, you are in the arms of this cat demon who is drooling passed out drunk

And that’s how you got into the crew as you became the server who serves the residents of course.

Literally you walk with a severing tray on your head as you smile with a “pst” and go back to the bar.

I headcannon they all woke up to see a four legged fuzzy creature literally walking around and they were like “what the fuckkkkk…”

I can imagine you falling down the stairs into Angel and you both just fall on the floor like idiots

You know how cats go towards the creepers and the creepers run away? Yeah. Literally husk got oddly attached to you making Charlie make you part of his bar as you serve drinks out to residents.

You were literally walking, holding a tray in your mouth. Husk just stares at you with dilated eyes and purr. The crew noticed this but didn’t confront him. Well alastor did of course and he didn’t get an answer out of husk.

Imagine a cartoony moment where Angel scares you, making you literally poop out gun powder😭 Angel gave the same face to you when sir Pentious called him “son”

Alastor definitely thought you were a cannibal because of your black eyes. He brought you a dead sinner, like literally he thrown a small sinner in your face. And you just stood there confused with a “pst.” And walked forward to Alastor and purr against him.

Mission failed successfully, Alastor gained a furry child-

I headcannon creeper! Reader to have a tongue just like the reference and picture because Steve mostly heard the sounds from their mouth.

Charlie and vaggie tried to make you a room, but Lucifer couldn’t help but love your fluffiness as he picked you up and ran as the others chased him.

I headcannon even if husk was the one that took you in. You can sense he is a cat demon, mostly a cat in your eyes as you run away from him as husk just walks normal speed confused behind you.

“Where you goin'?” Husk asked as you cry out a hiss running away on your stubby cute legs.

It was basically giving, “WHY ARE YOU RUNNING?! WHY ARE YOU RUNNING!”

You ran into Lucifer’s room to hide from husk-

Lucifer likes to pick you up at times. Literally he knows when you get too nervous you explode things. So he has part of his room your calm down station with fluffy pillows 💗

“PST.” “Why yes you fluffy boy??? Uuh girl. I did make you a duck. And look!” Lucifer says turning around dramatically “it was a rubber duck, green with green fuzz with a red button on its head. “It also explodes!” Just as he said that, a tiny exposure hit his face making his face look smoky as he gags and cough.

One time a sinner had yelled at you for accidentally giving them the wrong drink, and immediately they were thrown out by husk who had a dark expression at you cowering at the yelling. He’s not taking disrespect towards you lightly.

I can see you just casually walking outside only to get mistaken for grass, and an old lady was trying to cut your fur off.

“Hey has anyone seen Reader?” Vaggie says as she looked at the crew who showed up for the meeting. The crew looked around confused until they heard a big ass boom. *VINE BOOM*

I headcannon you sometimes explode based on intense emotions, mostly fear or being scared.

The old lady didn’t survive the explosion.

I imagine creeper! Reader having behavior issues like a cat. Like there was a small ball and you hit it like a curios cat.

The Vee’s were confused to see you as you were shopping at the beer store. And you walked minding your business, catching vox’s attention as he stopped the two other Vee’s. Literally they were intrigued at how different you looked. They’ve seen sinners and demons before. But you are so different.

I imagine you getting so much attention for your weird creature look. Literally either people wanna skin you, or pet you.

Valentino probably seen you on Angel dust’s post that said “what a cutie, they can’t pick up the teddy bear” and Valentino was raising a brow at your appearance

Rosie would also think you are a cannibal as Alastor brought you to cannibal town to show you off. Rosie admires your affection towards her as you just purr and help her around.

Creeper! Reader is definitely a child by heart as they thrown up one time and went to a “trusted” adult to say, “pst.” Which translated to “mom/dad, I threw up.” 🥺

You once blowed up one side of the hotel over a nightmare 😭 Alastor sighed with a smile and fixed it

You actually once had Alastor scratch your back as you couldn’t reach it . Alastor wasnt sure how he wanted to touch you since he wasn’t prone to being touch himself. But he did for you.

Why do I headcannon for a creeper and creeper! Reader to blow fire….

IMAGINE THE ABSOLUTE FOREST AND HOUSE FIRES YOU MADE😨

Cherri bomb would literally be friends with you since you can explode. So yeah I can imagine the chaos you two cause around the pride ring

Velvette probably would get ahold of you to give you a cute cloak that goes around your “shoulders” . It’s just so cute that you would have a cloak.

LMAO STOP CAUSE WHAT IF VAGGIE HAD THROWN YOU IN THAT ONE EPISODE WHERE VAGGIE THROW THE CAST DOWN INTO A FIELD😭 YOU KILLED SO MUCH PEOPLE WITH YOUR BOOM

Meanwhile Steve is just standing there shocked at the lost name tag you had as he sighs pulling out another creeper egg. Only for the creeper to blow up in his face.

I can see him posting out a missing poster with him coughing out smoke.

I headcannon Lucifer made you a duck pool seat as you just float in the pool smiling like a child as you drink lemonade. You’re so Adorable 😭💗

I imagine reader to go through a lot of training to be a waiter as you just trip on one of your legs to serve a resident their drinks

Niffty likes petting your soft fuzzy paw..she literally rubs her face in your fur hypnotized in it.

I headcannon you to smell like gun powder and a soft scent of fresh air that makes anyone relax as you are mostly outside back where you came from.

You mostly pick things up with your mouth of course. So imagine how awkward it is trying to put on your waiter outfit in your room. 😭

Sir Pentious definitely steals gun powder from you by making you scared so you can drop the gun powder. And then he apologizes to you after almost getting a heart attack.

I can see a calm moment of you snuggling with the crew as your favorite hotel crew member hold you.

The egg boiz definitely nap against you as you sleep in your fluffy pillows that Lucifer got you

You blowed up a resident on accident cause they didn’t tell you that they were behind you before you could see who it was.

You like getting groomed by niffty as it reminded you of how Steve combed your fuzzy fur while you smiled relaxed.

Adam had picked you up as you followed Charlie behind her back since you wanted it do errands.

“The fuck is this shit?” Adam says as you hiss at it. “Did this shit just hiss at me?” Adam asked with an amusing smirk as he noogies your head

Adam would definitely know what you are cause I headcannon he goes to earth to see what games online they have 😭😭

I headcannon that you just shed around the hotel with your green fur. But who can complain when literally it’s just small pieces that smell like gun powder.

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suosgirl · 3 months

Text

Keeping It Cute (& Dangerous) - Hayato Suo x Reader | Ch. 4

Word Count: 4970

୨ৎ Read me before interacting!

୨ৎ Pairing: Hayato Suo x Reader feat. Haruka Sakura, Akihiko Nirei, Taiga Tsugeura, Mitsuki Kiryu, Hajime Umemiya, Kotoha Tachibana

୨ৎ Warnings: mdni, f!reader, manga spoilers (?), ooc (?), loss of loved one, slowburn, teasing, misunderstandings, fighting, grief, swearing, ptsd, 2 stubborn idiots falling for each other – if I’ve missed one, I apologize + please let me know!

୨ৎ Note: Long ass chapter. Why? Because I'm a sucker for relationship development – that's all! (๑>؂•̀๑)

୨ৎ Keeping it Cute (& Dangerous) Masterlist

“If I could describe you in one word, Suo, I’d say that you’re –” “Intelligent? Patient? Cheeky?” “Insufferable.” He laughs lightly at your words as if you hadn’t just offended him, before gazing down at you with a look that screams mischief and something else that you can’t quite place yet.

It’s funny – before all of this, you didn’t think life could go any other way for you but the path you’d chosen.

You were fine with being alone. If it guarantees the safety of your hometown, then so be it. If your brother could make sacrifices, then so could you.

And you did.

Leaving wasn’t supposed to be easy, that much you knew. Walking away from the town meant you were leaving the memories you’d made there and the people that you’d grown to love.

Was it lonely at first? Of course. But as with everything in life, it just took time for this to become your new normal. You knew what you had signed up for when you left – so were you really that shocked that you began missing the presence of others or the feeling of being needed?

Everything was fine – at least, that’s what you told yourself.

But, being here, in Makochi – you didn’t think you’d ever experience those feelings again.

That feeling of being wanted, needed, and loved.

And suddenly – you weren’t so alone anymore.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It didn’t take much longer for the other boys to finally find where you and Suo were.

They came running in a frenzy, eyes wide and out of breath, and you couldn’t help the small chuckle that left your lips at the sight.

Did they really care that much? They didn’t even know you. But … they wanted to, and that meant more to you than you’d like to admit.

… It was getting harder to ignore the budding warmth in your chest and the crinkle in your eyes.

Whether it was due to Suo’s words or the overwhelming feeling of being, for the first time in what felt like forever, seen and understood – you allowed yourself, just this once, to hope again.

Fine. If they wanted to, you’d let them. You’d take Suo’s words for face value, and meet them first with your head held up high, like a tiger would. Were you afraid? Absolutely. But – you were hopeful, and that made all the difference.

They stare at you, their faces expecting the worst, and you pity them just a bit. It wouldn’t do them any good to worry – and you were every bit gracious and kind, so you throw them a bone.

You were, after all, weak to dreamy guys.

“Alright,” you let out a deep sigh, “Who wants my number?”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It starts with a simple invitation through text.

Nirei messages you first, inviting you to meet him at a place called Café Pothos, and you genuinely consider saying no and that you’re busy – but then, you remember the puppy dog eyes that he has so diligently mastered, and you just can’t find it in your heart to say no to a face like that.

(Unbeknownst to you, he’s quick to catch on. This would become your downfall.)

When you arrive, you recognize it as the place that they had brought you to before. Back then, you’d been in a much more hectic headspace, so you hadn’t taken the time to appreciate all the little details about it. Now, though, you were able to admire the flourishing plants all over the café and the aroma of coffee in the air.

Upon entering, you see a girl behind the counter, and you’re quick to take a sharp inhale because – she’s pretty.

You weren’t sure what the people in Makochi ate, but it was terribly unfair that everyone here happened to be blessed with the most spectacular genes that you’ve ever witnessed in your life.

It was, quite honestly, so fucked up.

As you glance around the café, you notice that you’re the only one here – and that she’s staring at you with a good-natured grin on her face.

She’s warm and inviting as she beckons you over, asking what you’d like and if you’re from out of town.

(You make a mental note to gain some sort of backbone against attractive people.)

You easily fall into a conversation with her as she prepares a cup of coffee for you, and you learn that her name is Kotoha and that she’s over at the café more often than not.

“You could easily be a model, you know,” you tell her earnestly, and she blushes as she waves off your comment.

Once you introduce yourself, her face lights up with recognition – and now, it was your turn to blush.

“Oh! That’s you! I’ve heard about you! In fact, they haven’t stopped talking about you –”

You should’ve expected this, really – but you didn’t. It had been so long since you were on the receiving end of showered praise like this, and you’d already gotten your fill a couple days prior. So, to say that this was overwhelming was an understatement.

“...And,” she continues with a wink, “You’re as pretty as they said you were.”

Your fingers shoot up to cover your lips – partly in shock but mostly in disbelief because you can’t wrap your head around the fact that they’ve been telling people that and –

“Oh! What’s got you looking so red, bunny?”

…

You weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough for Nirei to arrive.

Actually, you weren’t sure if you were going to make it long enough in this town.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To your relief, Nirei comes soon after, and you’re saved from the onslaught of the two biggest instigators that you’ve ever met.

The minute he walks in, you’re immediately jumping out of your seat to greet him, and he matches your energy in a heartbeat. He’s greeting you just as enthusiastically, though you don’t have it in you to explain why you’re so happy to see him. And – you notice that he’s tacked on “-san” to the end of your name.

(If you squint, you can almost make out the furious wagging of a tail.)

The eyes of Suo and Kotoha glinting with sadistic delight behind you only serve as a reminder of the hell that you had once endured, and you silently thank whatever higher power is out there that Nirei has the heart of an angel.

“Thank you for meeting me here! I meant to ask you this when we first met, but you just kept running away!”

On second thought, you’re not so sure now about that last tidbit.

He begins bombarding you with questions, from your height, to your blood type, to what you look for in a partner, and you briefly wonder if the town of Makochi is hell personified.

“How about we sit down first, Nirei? At, uh – the table right over there in the corner.”

Nirei nods, and you’re so glad that he’s at least a good listener – until he spots Kotoha and Suo.

In the same fashion that a puppy would, he instantly goes over to greet them, takes a seat, looks at you, then pulls out the seat next to him – and pats it with his hand.

“I –”, you stumble over your words, shaking your head at him.

Oh god, were you the puppy?

… No. You were NOT a puppy (or a bunny).

You would stand your ground, and give him an ultimatum. That’s what you would do.

But then he starts giving you the eyes, the puppy dog eyes, and you feel yourself start to waver — but you must persist.

When faced with a challenge, when standing in the path of uncertainty, you must prevail and —

Kotoha and Suo join in, though their eyes don’t quite hit that same twinkle of desperation that Nirei’s does.

Still — you admit defeat.

You sigh before slowly trudging over to the chair that had been so kindly pulled out for you. You really had to pull yourself together.

Tomorrow, you tell yourself. Tomorrow. I’ll have a backbone by tomorrow.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You do not, in fact, build a backbone.

At this point, you’re not even sure you know what a backbone even is anymore.

What you do know, though, is that –

Muscle Power is one of Tsugeura’s favorite food joints in Makochi. You personally really like their banana pound cake – and he knows this. So, whenever he’s in the mood to go when everyone else conveniently can’t – he knows that he can always count on you to keep him company.

You also find out that he’s really into wrestling, though you’re not so sure if this was much of a secret in the first place. It had all happened so casually too, and honestly, you hadn’t even noticed when you chimed into the conversation.

The 6 of you were sat at the café, though you were sat at a table separate from theirs as you calculate your budget for the month. You thought it’d be a peaceful experience, just you in a corner and Kotoha behind the counter, but once one of them starts filing in, they all file in.

You try to block them out as best you can as you do calculation after calculation, but you were never that good at multitasking. As your concentration shifts to focus on the numbers in your notebook, you subconsciously start picking up on their conversation.

You hear Tsugeura go on a tangent about BxB Hulk, a wrestler that both you and your brother had really admired, but he seems stuck as he tries to remember the year he made his debut.

“...2005,” you say absentmindedly, deep in thought as you stare at your notebook, “... with the Dragon Gate Dojo.”

You go to circle something, but Tsugeura’s gasp of shock makes you jump instead. You go to give him an accusatory look, but they’re all looking at you in a similar fashion.

You blink at their reactions before tilting your head, “What?... I’m not wrong, am I?”

You had no idea that those words would give you a permanent spot as Tsugeura’s #1 person to talk about wrestling with – and you’d never admit this but – you were just as passionate about it as he was.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You learn that Kiryu is stupidly good at crane games – though, you’ve been able to win a couple stuffed animals for him too so you’d say it’s even. He also teaches you some of his favorite hairstyles, and you do, in fact, confirm that his hair smells as good as it looks.

When you find out about his older sister, everything suddenly clicks for you, and you understand now why you’re so comfortable around him and why he’s so good at being able to pick up on even the smallest changes in you.

Whenever your time of the month came, he’d seem to always be stocked up with chocolate, an extra pad or two, and ibuprofen. If you did something new with your makeup, like a new lip color or a different pair of lashes, it’d be the first thing that he comments on when he sees you. And – he always checks in on you. If it’s been a couple of days since you’d last seen them, he’s sending you a quick text asking if you’ve eaten or inviting you to a casual hangout.

There seems to be no end to his thoughtfulness, and it’s something that you learn to appreciate very deeply.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Sakura, despite the attitude he portrays and the things he may say, is a huge softie (you belatedly find out that the pink, sometimes red, on his face that blooms at the most random of times is in fact not a skin condition but indeed his blush).

And, you’re glad to learn that he’s as strong as he says he is.

It begins with a petty argument – something about vegetables and how he doesn’t eat them – but you’re both so stubborn that your harmless comment eventually turns into an all out confrontation. And, when he asks if you want to take it outside – you say yes.

You admit that you were worried that he’d be the type to pull back his punches in a fight because you’re you, but you’re pleasantly surprised when he, instead, runs towards you with all the strength of a bulldozer.

As you dodge and evade his moves, you realize how talented he truly is. You had a feeling, of course, but to see in action the way that he has total control of his body is a different beast altogether.

When you get in close to try and land a kick to his head, you see a smile on his face as he blocks it with his arms. But his smile isn’t condescending or mocking. No, this is a smile that shows that he’s having fun, that he finds you worthy – and you don’t try to stop the smile that’s growing on your face either.

He really reminded you of your brother.

Your sparring only lasts for a couple of minutes before Nirei pulls out those damned puppy dog eyes, but it's enough for you both to find newfound respect in one another.

And, as he goes to fix his jacket, he mutters a quiet, “I took that seriously, y’know.”

You grin, a radiant laugh bursting from your lips as you look up at him and say, “I’d be offended if you didn’t.”

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

To your surprise, Nirei has a sharp memory and an even sharper tongue.

You’ve tried to lie your way out of several hangouts – he always calls you out with no remorse.

(“Ah, man, I’d love to, truly, but I forgot that my laundry is out drying so I really should –”

“You said you folded your clothes yesterday, remember?”)

But as much as you hated it, you couldn’t help but also appreciate the way that he genuinely cared for his friends with his heart on his sleeve. He was earnest, loyal, and caring – everything that you’d soon come to admire about him.

And, when he finds out that you enjoy going to secondhand stores too? Oh, he blows up your phone at least 3 times a month asking if you’d like to join him on yet another “hunt”. This, though, was a hangout that you’d never say no to. It was always so fun getting to dig around together to see what you could find (your brother was never one for shopping), and you enjoyed this time because you got to know even more about the other boys through Nirei, who spoke about them with shining eyes and pride in his voice.

He really was an amazing storyteller – and an even better friend.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

Kotoha is as honest as she is loving – and you’re so grateful to have grown so close to her within such a short time. After your initial meeting, you find yourself hanging out at Café Pothos way more often than you’d like to admit, and you come to admire how diligent, hardworking, and compassionate she is.

Your friendship with her blossoms naturally, and at some point she begins to join you and Nirei on your little thrifting trips. She becomes someone that you feel comfortable with confiding in, and you’re delighted to find out that it goes both ways.

And aside from all of this – she also manages to help you get a job at Café Pothos alongside her.

When you’d mindlessly mentioned once that you were running short on your funds from your last job (as a result of all the hangouts that you were, regretfully, indulging in), Kotoha was the one who offered to see if there was an opening available at the café. When you came in on your first day for training – she was the one showing you the ropes and guiding you with her hands.

And, when you finally met her brother, well –

The first time you meet Umemiya, you (understandably) burst into tears, and he (understandably) freaks the fuck out.

Nirei, with your tearful eyes and a nod of approval, clues him in on your backstory.

By the end of it, you’ve managed to slow down the crying to only a few tears, a fond look on your face as you listen to Nirei speak.

You open your mouth, ready to apologize but Umemiya beats you to it.

He has a hand gently patting the top of your head, and a smile on his face.

But that smile – it says so many things all at once.

So many things that you haven’t felt in so long.

“He would be proud of who you’ve become.”

And, for the first time since his death, you finally let your body relax.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

But Suo, despite all of this, remains ever mysterious and tight-lipped.

You still don’t know too much about him, and you’re not privy to prying for information either (though you admit that you’ve asked Nirei about him once or twice). What you are able to gather, however, is that Suo is a huge pain in your ass. The teasing never ends, he always has his eye on you at all times, and –

At first, you think he’s just being nice.

A warm hand on your lower back guiding you through the bustling crowd of the town.

A sweet smile on his face whenever he greets you or catches sight of your familiar head of hair.

A passing remark about how pretty your eyes look that day.

But then –

You notice his hands linger just a bit longer than normal, and they’re starting to gravitate just a little bit lower or just a bit higher, until the resting of his hand on your waist or your hips becomes a new normal.

His smile, you realize, is much more than just sweet. Sometimes, you’ll catch a hint of endearment or amusement, as if he’s in on a joke that you know nothing about.

And the remarks? They progress from just being about your eyes to your hairstyle that day, or your outfit, or your smile, or your laugh.

But it doesn’t just stop there – it seems that, if you’re not working, he’s got to be touching you at all times. Your legs pressed firmly together whenever you sat next to each other. His hands wrapped around your waist when he moves around you. Your arms always touching when you’re standing beside each other.

And any chance he gets, he’s whispering in your ear. It could be anything, from explaining something that gets brought up when you’re with the group, to casually talking about the weather.

But sometimes, with his lips so close to your ear that you can feel the warm puffs of his breath, he’ll lower his voice just the littlest bit, make his words sound the tiniest bit breathless and then –

He pulls away, with that stupid little smile on his face and mirth in his eyes.

Everytime, everytime he does it, you’re left flustered and alone, with a hand held up to your ear as if to hold on just a little bit longer to the sensation, to the feeling of his lips so close to you.

And he never ever calls you your name. In fact, you don’t think you’ve ever heard it leave his lips – at least not when he’s around you.

“Wow bunny, you’re so strong!”

“Bunny, play nice –”

“Oh bunny, you’re here!”

All the “bunny” this and “bunny” that messes with your head. So much so that Suo could say it in a crowded room and you’re already turning your attention to him to see what he wants.

(And if you were to think about it a while longer, you’d realize that no one else uses that affectionate name on you. You’d realize that people have tried, but when they look up, Suo’s already got an eye on them and a tight-lipped smile on his face – and it sends shivers down their spine. Not like you’d recognize that they’re calling you though, your ears only attuned to the way that Suo calls it out.)

Working at the café doesn’t help.

From the moment you clock in to the moment you clock out, you can expect Suo to pop in at least once during your shift – twice if he comes early in the day to have a cup of tea with Sakura and Nirei.

And everytime, everytime you clock out – he’s patiently waiting to walk you home.

It starts on your first day – and you were not prepared for the sight of him, in all his lovely glory, to be standing outside with a smile on his face as you locked up the doors. It was such a shock that you’d dropped the keys in panic, and he quickly bent down to grab them before handing it to you.

When he grabs your hand and gently drops the keys in your palm, you don’t miss the way his thumb caresses yours.

His hands were so damn warm – and soft.

“I – what are you doing here?”

“Is it a crime to escort you home?”

Your lips part in surprise, and you can feel the way your breathing is starting to quicken in response.

“No, uh … it’s not. But –”

He laughs, and you notice that he’s still holding your hand in his.

You don’t make a move to remove it.

“Everyone’s been hanging out with you. I just wanted some time for myself, that’s all.”

His words catch you off guard, and he takes that silence as an invitation to continue.

“Besides – I’m the one who convinced you to stay. Shouldn’t I be able to spend time with you as well?”

You … don’t have a good enough reason to say no.

So, you let it happen.

During the walk, you talk about all the mundane things, from how your day went to what you had for lunch.

And, if your shoulders occasionally bump into one another or your fingers accidentally brush, well –

Neither of you mention it.

When you finally make it to your apartment, he follows you right up to the door. You feel his looming presence behind you, and the warmth emanating from his body, and it takes everything in your power not to drop your keys again.

And, once your door finally unlocks, you feel a shift behind you.

Suddenly, his hands are on either side of the doorframe, caging you in, and your back is pressed flush against his chest.

And goodness did his chest feel strong.

He’s so so close that you can hear his lips part and his soft inhale as he whispers coyly into your ear, “Sweet dreams, bunny.”

Before you can react, he’s already taken a step back with his hand waving goodbye and an innocent smile on his face.

You think about it for the rest of the night.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

It goes on like this for months, and you’re not sure what sick and twisted game he’s playing at, but he never explains his behavior, never confesses his feelings, never addresses the elephant in the room.

And you – well, you’re not sure how to even bring it up.

It’s not that you’re mad about it (quite the opposite), but every touch, every whisper, every smile leaves you wanting more.

But you weren’t sure if you could handle more. Not if it was going to be like this. Your poor heart wouldn’t be able to handle it.

Suo had started a craving that you weren’t sure could ever be satisfied, but no matter how much you tried to ward him off, he remained persistent and stubborn.

“You really don’t have to do this, Suo — though I appreciate the gesture,” you remark, your head tilted up to gauge his reaction as he walks in stride with you.

“But I enjoy doing it, so what’s the issue?”

“The issue, Suo, is that I’m perfectly capable of walking home alone. Shouldn’t you be – oh, I don’t know – spending your time with people who might actually need help?”

He takes a moment to think about this – at least, he acts like he does. But, you know better. You’re starting to be able to differentiate when he’s being sarcastic and when he’s not, and right now, as he brings his finger up to tap “thoughtfully” on his chin, you can’t help but feel the urge to humble him just the tiniest bit.

So you do.

“If I could describe you in one word, Suo, I’d say that you’re –”

“Intelligent? Patient? Cheeky?”

“Insufferable.”

He laughs lightly at your words as if you hadn’t just offended him, before gazing down at you with a look that screams mischief and something else that you can’t quite place yet.

And, with an air of casualty, as if you’d both just been talking about the different blends of tea, he responds with –

“If you find me insufferable now, I can’t imagine how you would describe me as your lover.”

…

You come to a stop, your eyes blinking rapidly as you try to take in what he’s said but he cuts off your train of thought.

“Looks like you’re home now, my little bunny. This was pleasant, as always.”

Looking around, you deflate at the fact that he was right, you’d stopped right in front of your door, but you needed answers – now.

You go to open your mouth, but he’s quicker – “Oh, sorry, but I really can’t stay and chat. I’ve got to, oh, I don’t know, see if anyone needs my assistance.”

That … shut you up real quick.

You hated when he made you eat your words.

Biting back your tongue, all you can do is huff as you make your way inside, his eye burning a hole into the back of your head – and, if you weren’t so deep in distress, you’d hear the soft twinkle of satisfied laughter in his wake as he walks down the street.

God, he really was insufferable.

—

That night, you sit up with a sudden realization as it hits you.

You knew that look.

That was the look that he gave his opponents –

The one that would dare them to fight him, to challenge him, to provoke him.

He was challenging you, daring you, provoking you.

He wanted to see if you’d break first.

He wanted to see if you’d give in.

You laugh so hard that your eyes start to water – and it’s full of disbelief and shock and amusement.

Like hell you’d let that happen.

⋆ ˚｡⋆୨♡୧⋆ ˚｡⋆

You are your brother’s sister, and his stubbornness and competitive streak had been passed down to you tenfold.

So, you catch up to Suo’s speed – fast.

Now you were the one initiating contact, touching him, teasing him.

Whenever he walked you home, you made sure to hold onto his arm, running your fingers up and down his bicep as you conversed.

And, you don’t just let go.

No. You were better than that.

Instead, you’d run your hand down his whole arm as you separated, until you got to his hand – then, you’d hold onto that until all that was left was the tip of his pointer finger.

You’d give it a gentle squeeze, thanking him for walking you home, before letting it drop from your grasp.

You don’t miss the way his eyes follow the path of your hand every time, as if entranced by the feeling and the sight.

Anytime he came into the café with Sakura and Nirei, you’d make sure to briefly touch his shoulder whenever you passed him, or hold onto his hand just a beat longer when handing him his tea.

(And, without fail, Sakura and Nirei erupt in striking hues of red and pink everytime. Though, Suo and you don’t pay them much attention. Kotoha will give you a knowing look, but you feign ignorance.)

You were no stranger to sugar coated words, either – so, you make it a goal to compliment him at least once every time you see him.

And, of course, you give him a nickname too. You take your time when you think of it because you really want it to stick – you really want it to have the same effect on him as it has on you.

So, you start calling him by his first name – and it works.

“Hayato, you smell so good today.”

“Oh my Hayato, aren’t you looking handsome~”

“Ah, I missed you, Hayato.”

And, the first time you whisper in his ear, light and airy and sweet, you feel dejected when it doesn’t have the same effect on him as it has on you. You’re brought back to the night that he had confronted you, and you’re honestly a bit sad that it seems things haven’t changed.

You begin to pull away, but something catches your eye. So slight and so small that you wouldn’t have noticed it if you weren’t so close. It’s the way his jaw tightens, the way he presses his lips together hard and restrained, the way that he clenches his fists until the whites of his knuckles peek out under the heated skin. And, you hear it – that sharp intake of breath.

His reaction makes you sway just the tiniest bit – and you want to see more. You want to see him flustered and flushed and desperate in the same way he’s made you.

You wanted him to lose his composure.

But – you and Suo keep it cute and casual and friendly.

Simply waiting for the other to break first.

If anyone is brave enough to bring it up, well –

You both shake your heads in denial, a quick “no” rolling off the tips of your tongues.

(They’ll simply nod at your responses, but their eyes stay glued to the spot under the table where Suo’s got his hand splayed out on your thigh and the arm you’ve got wrapped around his to keep him there.)

… Who knew a friendly competitive sparring match amongst Bofurin would be his downfall?

୨ৎ Chapter 5

#melody writes (& never stops)#wind breaker #windbreaker x reader #hayato suo #suo hayato #suo hayato x reader #hayato suo x reader #wind breaker x reader #hayato suo the man that u are

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ghouldump · 24 days

Text

Love Me | Lestat de Lioncourt x Bi!Reader

ෆ as your companionship seems to be failing, you retreat, seeking comfort from a woman who looks awfully similar.

a short fic from me to you. bi reader, as well as rockstar lestat, has been high in demand. i actually accidentally deleted a few really good ones, but there i honestly write whenever i’m bored, so more is bound to come along.

Throwing the large book, you expected it to hit him in the head, but before it could connect, the book went left, falling onto the floor.

“How long will you continue this, ma chérie, you don't menstruate, so why must you go on like this? Hm, do you want to shop, a new handbag, shoes, a new boy toy?” Lestat asked, smirking. Behind the grin, he was incredibly frustrated. The two of you had been arguing for over an hour, and he didn't even know why.

“What does that have to do with anything? You always have to ridicule, when a problem is being addressed,” you screamed, a few tears escaping. As much as you tried to hold them back, the barrier was crumbling, as you grew angrier.

“Are you serious? What is the problem? Go on”

“That boy that you bought home, he looked like him-

“It was merely a coincidence”

“And the one before that, and before that, and many more. All of them resembled him, your Louis,” you whispered, wiping your tears.

“All of them were also drained and burned”

“After you fucked them,” you said, shaking your head as he chuckled.

“50 years, I have given myself to you, and you alone, but I haven't been enough, I’m not Louis”

“Y/n-

“You revealed your identity to the entire world for him. I let you turn me at only nineteen to fill your lonely void, and you’ve never told me you loved me, do you even love me?”

“What kind of point are you trying to prove? I told you, Louis and I had a very different relationship, than what you and I-

“Right, you loved him, and I was the replacement,” you laughed, grabbing your phone and handbag.

“Where are you going?”

“Out, text me from your iPad, if you need anything,” you grumbled. He was too much of an illiterate man-child to even learn how to use a phone, depending on you and Siri.

“The sun will be out soon”

“I won't be long,” you said, making sure to slam the door.

Your emotions were all over the place, angered at the terrible decisions you'd made over the years. You were a young party girl, in the 70s, when you met Lestat. It didn't take long before he was your boyfriend, and you were bragging to your friends about the sex. After months of dating, he confided in you about a weird call from his former lover’s partner, revealing his identity afterward. Soon, he asked you to join him in darkness, and immediately you agreed.

However, looking back, you felt like an idiot, you should've stayed away when the adults told you about the strangeness of Lestat. The rumors of him not aging, only being seen at night. You couldn't see past his charming personality or handsome face, to realize he was trying to fill the void Louis left.

Walking through the French Quarter, you maneuvered through the crowd. You rolled your eyes at all of the tourists, especially since the writer, Daniel Molloy came out with his book, people were flocking to the city.

Going into a random bar, you sat down, your eyes scanning the menu. Alcohol didn't have much of an effect on you, only making you slightly tipsy, but it was something that made you feel human.

“I bought your drink, the least you could do is give me your number,” you heard the man next to you say rudely.

“What can I get for you?” the bartender asked.

“A pineapple martini,” you said, handing him your card.

“I didn't ask you to,” the girl argued.

“Listen, I didn't spend $20 on an overpriced daiquiri just because you're cute-

“And I told you, I didn't ask you to buy it,” she argued.

“Can you two take that elsewhere, I don't want to hear all of that, while I enjoy my drink,” you said, tapping the man’s shoulder.

“No one cares, and keep your hands off-

The man stood from his seat, lunging forward to grab you next, when you caught his arm, twisting it. You watched the man in satisfaction, thinking of how men hadn't changed, even in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and so on — there were always the disgustingly perverted men.

“You don't know how to keep your hands to yourself, it’s gross, but it makes me feel less guilty for breaking your arm,” you said, shrugging before twisting his arm. He screamed in agony, holding his arm as he ran out of the bar, just as your martini was sat down, along with your card.

“Hey, thank you for that,” the woman started, as you sat down. By her accent alone, you knew she was a tourist.

“It was nothing,” you mumbled, twirling the little straw, focused on the drink.

“How did you do that? Do you take self defense classes?” she asked.

“No”

“Well, that was pretty impressive, I don't think I’ve ever seen-

“Lady, I just want to enjoy my drink-

Your eyes widened at the woman, she was perfect, she looked like Lestat, if he had been gender-swapped. Her blonde tresses were inches away from her waist, sky blue eyes, and full pink lips. Her bone structure was symmetrical, her straight teeth as white as milk. She dressed hyper feminine, wearing too much pink and white. You tried not to be weird, forcing your eyes to stop wandering, despite catching a glimpse of her toned body.

“I’m sorry, I know I can talk too much sometimes, sorry,” she apologized.

“You’re fine, I’m just in a shitty mood,” you shrugged.

“What’s wrong?”

“My partner is caught up on his ex, even though they broke up forever ago,” you admitted.

“Why do you hold on to him then?”

“Everything else is perfect about him, I can’t help but want to be loved by him,” you mumbled, thinking of Lestat. Since he revealed himself, he had been very busy, but when he wasn’t, his attention was on you. Waiting for him backstage, in the hotels, in his coffin, the quality time was incredibly intimate.

“If he’s as perfect as you claim, why are you here, obviously upset?” she asked, scooting closer.

“I don’t think I will ever come close to being loved as much as Louis,” you admitted, gulping down the pressure of the tears.

“I’m sorry,” she said, reaching to touch your hand.

“I will be fine, are you new to New Orleans?” You asked, staring at her hand laid against your own.

“Yes, I’m Lisa by the way, but I want to move here, I’ll be out here for a few weeks, maybe we can hang out, you could be my personal tour guide,” she said, briefly biting her lip. In her thoughts, she was hopeful, wanting more than to spend time with you. You seemed mysterious and she was dying to know why.

“Y/n, What did you want to do?”

“See historical landmarks, try local cuisines, hang out with you,” she said, leaning towards you.

“Me?”

“A woman as beautiful as you deserves all of the attention”

“I could say the same thing about you,” you smirked, remaining still as she leaned closer, allowing her to press her lips against your own.

As you moved closer, your phone dinged, making you reach into your pocket. Pulling away, you rolled your eyes as you stared at the coffin emoji, paired with a question mark.

“I have to go,” you told her, going to stand.

“Could I have your number, we could hang out sometime, if you're free,” she said, fidgeting. Smirking, you couldn't help but think of how much she looked like him, yet acted completely different.

Laughing, you unlocked your phone, handing it to her. After her number was saved, you were making your way to the townhouse. The sun could be seen coming into view, and just as you began opening the door, you could feel the heat burning against your skin.

“I thought you wouldn't be long,” Lestat said from the top of the stairs, as the door was shut.

“I wasn't”

“You left nearly two hours ago,” he said, following behind you, as you walked past him, up the stairs.

“And I’m home, did you want to argue more?” you asked him, rudely. He was stunned by your tone, but recovered quickly.

“No, I wanted you to return to me, in perfect condition,” he said, watching as you stripped from the clothing, holding your phone near.

“I’m okay, it will heal,” you told him, feeling his eyes on your lightly burned shoulder. You didn't say anything else, climbing into your coffin, and he couldn't admit your already different behavior left him feeling embarrassed.

Just as your eyes were about to shut, your phone lit up, as Lisa’s message appeared on the screen, asking if you made it home safely. Lestat stared at your coffin, hearing the sound of you typing, before slowly moving to his own.

“Sleep well, ma chérie”

“You too,” you said, hearing the sound of his coffin closing.

Lestat was confused by the way you were acting. This wasn't the first and most likely wouldn't be the last time you'd get into an argument, but this time seemed different. You'd leave and eventually come home, and he'd pick a fight, and just as you started to argue back, he would apologize for his actions and everything would fall into place.

Now, just two hours later you acted completely standoffish with him, as if you didn't want to be bothered. Was the argument that serious to you? You understood the love he held for Louis, but that it was best that they remained friends alone. He was with you, he had been all these years, he cared for you, he lo-.

Lestat didn't know how to express himself, arguing, being jealous, possessive, then ravishing you with gifts, that's all he knew. What he didn't realize was his failure to comfort and reassure you, not taking you seriously, you were pulling you away, as you began to desire your needs elsewhere.

Immediately, Lestat could see the red flags going off, you were gone every night. Some nights before he even woke up, others you'd silently dress in front of him, before leaving. Even when he left for his music business, you always traveled with him, but now you had excuses.

He didn't want to follow you, but he had to, the jealous assumptions were beginning to pile up in his thoughts. Months, it had been months of you ignoring his presence. You’d look at him, hunt with him, and even talk with him if he wanted — but you weren’t putting your all into the relationship anymore. He was making the same mistake as he did with Louis. Choosing when the relationship could and couldn’t open.

He’d dabble in his different tastes regularly, no strings attached, usually killing the person after. You were different, the only way you’d have another person, was if Lestat was present. You weren’t as open to the idea of having others, and in a way, it satisfied Lestat knowing you would never sleep with another, or so he thought.

He had been following you, all the way to Gentilly, until you stopped at the unfamiliar house. His heart could have shattered, as he watched you through the window. The woman, you touched, touched in a way that was only meant for him.

He watched as you and this is unknown woman made love, his heart throbbing. The two of you, going on for what felt like hours, before you were both giggling, going into the bathroom. As the woman came out, grabbing a towel, Lestat was sure his dead heart would stop. This woman, she looked exactly like him, he couldn’t even say he looked better, because they resembled each other so much.

After your shared shower, you both plopped on the bed, holding each other. Your hearts full of passion towards each other.

“Y/n,” Lisa said, playing with your sharp nails.

“Hm?” You answered, your eyes closed. Her warm skin felt nice against your forever icy skin.

“I think I love you,” she said, making you open your eyes.

“What?” You asked, looking at her.

“I love you, I know it’s only been a few months, but that’s all I needed with you to know,” she said. You could feel the tears building up, as you pressed your lips against her own.

Staring at her, you could only see Lestat, the one who stole your heart all those years ago. No matter how idiotic you’re decision was, at the time. All you wanted was for him to declare his love for you, with his mouth.

“Say it again, please?” You asked her, as you pulled away.

“I love you,” she smiled brightly, smashing her lips into yours, as she pulled you back into a hug.

Lestat had tears pouring down his face, as he turned to leave. He didn’t think he could watch any more of whatever that was supposed to be. He couldn't take the idea of you being loving or being loved by another. All this started because of love, you claiming he didn't love you.

“Lisa, tell me you love me, once more,” you said, as you began to glamour her.

“I love you,” she exclaimed.

“No, you don't, you never met me, you won't recognize my face and you will never approach me, do you understand?” you asked her, watching as she silently nodded, you wiped the bloody tear from your eye, just as it escaped,

“Yes”

“You will sleep now, you're very tired,” you said, watching as she nodded, dozing off. She lay beautifully, as you covered her with the blanket. You couldn't replace him, even with the female doppelganger — especially with her. Lisa was a sweet girl, you didn't want to take away her life, revealing your nature, for your selfish reasons.

Leaving her home, you silently went back to your shared townhouse. It was quiet, Lestat already in his coffin, as you undressed.

“Good night,” you mumbled, getting into your coffin.

If this would be life, then you accepted it, second to Louis. You loved Lestat with every piece of your soul, so much that you could take not being loved, but being liked enough to be in his presence.

As the sun eventually left, you got up, dressing to go hunt. You found a random man, draining him in an alley, but as you made your way back home, your eyebrows furrowed. Entering the house, your eyes widened at the sight.

Exotic dancers, well over ten of them, all with wavy blonde hair and shades of blue eyes. A few of them were fawning at Lestat, but he paid none of them any kind of attention.

“What is the meaning of this?”

“For you, ma chérie, I’ll drain them, but I’ll let do whatever you please with them first,” he grinned.

“What are you talking about? Get them out, now,” you said, shrugging off a hand that was about to rub your shoulder. Watching as Lestat controlled them, sending them away, before he sat down, drained from the action.

“What is wrong with you? Bringing all of those women here? God, why don't you think,” you grumbled.

“I was just trying to appease your passions since they were more of your type, I mean, it only took a few months for you to find out,” he shrugged, making you realize he had been there.

“You can't be serious, you're such a creeper,” you laughed bitterly.

“For months, I’ve reached out to you, and you recoiled at my touch, just for me to find out you're having an affair with a woman, who looks too much like me”

“And how is that any different than what you've done?” you asked, crossing your arms.

“I heard you both, making love to her, kissing her, touching her the way that you do me. Texting her throughout the day, you're in love with her,” Lestat cried.

“I’m in love with you, but you love Louis. I can't replace him, so I wanted to replace you,” you said, turning to storm away, when he caught your hand.

“I will always love Louis but don't think that I don't love you. You are my wife, my companion, the one who saved me from myself. I don't want to see you with another, only me,” he confessed. His face was covered in blood from the tears pouring down his face.

“And you have me, but you have to say it, I know you show it in your own ways, but to hear it from your lips, would help me so much,” you told him.

“I love you, I love you, I love you. I know, I am a hypocrite, but end your affair, I can't take knowing you love another, I love you” he pouted.

“Fine, you won't have to worry about her,” you told him, as he moved closer to embrace you. Swiftly, he lifted you, holding you in his arms.

“Are we made up now?”

“Yes, love”

“I don't know how much I could take of that excruciating cycle of neglect,” he expressed.

“Lestat?” you said, as he sat down, having you straddle his lap.

“Yes, chérie?”

“Tell me again, tell me you love me,” you said, sighing in fulfillment as his arms wrapped around your body.

“I love you and I’ll say it as many times as you need”

…

#interview with the vampire #lestat de lioncourt x reader #lestat x reader #lestat de lioncourt #amc iwtv

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