#this is a tiny gift i made for an a++++++ commissioner who was way too kind with me

[hexnovo]

a tiny sphinx

[sparkypantaloons]

It Must Be

Bruce remembers the first time each of his kids told him they loved him.

The first time Dick says the words, Bruce almost doesn't catch them.

The eleven year old is near exhaustion, limbs shaking and breath heaving as he struggles to pull Batman out of the surf. He's soaked, his cape sopping wet and clinging to his tiny frame. There's sand all over his face, too. All over his knees and arms, in his hair and on his gloves.

His feet stumble, as the swell finally helps him pull Batman's sodden form onto the shore. Then he collapses to his knees. Throws himself onto Bruce's chest, and tries to catch his breath through his sobs.

"Don't die, don't die, don't die. Please B, don't leave me. I love you, B, please don't leave, please don't leave me."

Bruce's hands are still tightly bound together, his head feels like someone took a chainsaw to it and he's pretty sure he's swallowed half of the Bay. But those three little words, barely audible over the tide and the wind and Dick's desperate sobs, change everything.

It's the first time Bruce has heard them in years. Decades, even. Not since his parents had... well...

And it's not that Alfred doesn't feel that way about him. Or that Bruce doesn't know it. But Alfred was a man of a different generation, had brought Bruce up the same. Words like that... they were thought, not said.

Hearing them from Dick, even in such bleak circumstances, it lights a flame in Bruce. Just a small one, flickering and fluttering, where before there had only been darkness.

~

The first time Bruce hears it from Jason, is in the summer. It's Jason's first birthday at the Manor and there are balloons and cake and music. The twelve year old has received cards from Diana and Clark and Dick, from Commissioner Gordon and Dr. Thompkins. Alfred has bought him his own cooking apron and hand made little step, so Jason can reach the stove properly, and Bruce has brought him a bike.

The three of them sit in the sunshine for lunch, Jason's eyes shining brighter with every card and gift and well wish he receives. Like he didn't even realise so many people knew he existed, let alone cared about his birthday.

When Bruce tucks him into bed that night, Jason flings his arms around Bruce's neck. Buries his head into the older man's shoulder and says "This was the best birthday ever, Bruce."

Bruce laughs and says "I'm glad, Jay. What was your favourite present?"

Jason pulls back and smiles, a little shy. "It was you, B." Then he presses a sloppy kiss to Bruce's cheek before settling down under the covers.

"Goodnight, Jason." Bruce says, turning out the light.

"G'night B, love you."

Bruce doesn't stop smiling for the rest of the week. The flame inside a little campfire now, and Alfred, Dick, Jason and Bruce sit around it, toasting marshmallows.

~

Bruce tries not to think about the words once Jason... once Jason dies. It's too much to bear. His darling boy. Once so full of compassion and joy and warmth, lies cold and still in the ground. Most days it's all Bruce can do not to join him, though he flirts ever closer to the idea.

Then Tim comes along. Tim who is whipsmart and driven and oh so stubborn. Always willing to put himself on the line. To do whatever it takes. To be better, to do better, to help.

Tim steps up to help Bruce, help a total stranger, regardless of the cost to himself. He brings Dick back home, helps Bruce fix old hurts with his first son. And yes, Tim's a little weird, but he's there. Always, when Bruce needs him.

Bruce had needed Tim that night. That night, when for no reason at all, Bruce was being reckless. Dangerous. Pushing himself to the brink and why? Because someone had mentioned his parents on the radio? Some song had reminded him of Jason?

No, nothing so sad as that. Bruce had asked if Tim would like to be adopted, and Tim had said no. He had his reasons. Good reasons. Reasons that Bruce understood, agreed with even. But somehow it still hurt like he had lost another son. And when he'd taken to the rooftops that night, he fought as though he had too.

Three broken ribs and a fractured tibia later, Tim had dragged him back to the Cave, furious.

"I thought we were past this, Bruce!"

Bruce doesn't answer.

"Seriously?" Tim snaps. "Nothing?" He begins pacing. "I can't keep doing this Bruce. I can't... I can't do it. I won't."

"It's fine." Bruce grimaces.

"It's not fine!" Tim voice breaks on the words. Tears of frustration shining in his eyes. "You can't keep putting yourself in harms way, tormenting the people who love you. Dick, Alfred, me. It's not fair."

"You?" Bruce had mumbled, half high on the painkillers Tim had given him no choice in.

"Yes, me!" Tim snaps again, wiping at his eyes. "Damn it Bruce, how many years have I been doing this. Tried to stop you from destroying yourself? I can't... I can't keep doing this. It's not just you he needs me out there Bruce. I need you too."

Bruce is silent again.

Tim sighs. "I love you, Bruce. We all love you. You have to stop this."

And even though Bruce has kept Tim at a distance, deliberately so, somehow, the kid has still pulled him back from the brink. Saved that sputtering flame inside of him from disappearing again.

~

It takes Bruce longer than he's proud of to make Cass officially part of their family. She's almost an adult, really, but it's something she needs. The security of a family, the stability of a father. She's something Bruce needs too.

He's seen the way she's tortured herself for what Cain made her. He sees it when he looks in the mirror as well. When he questions what Gotham has made him. What Gotham has cost him...

Cass doesn't deserve the life he's lived, and he's determined to do better for her, where he can no longer do better for himself.

When she moves into the Manor, he suggest a movie night just the two of them. Needs to show her she isn't just here because she's Batgirl, but because she's Cass.

They watch Jurassic Park. Sink into the giant couch in the den, leaning against each other and eating popcorn. When the t-rex comes she jumps excitedly in her seat and when the velociratpors chase the children through the kitchen she pretends to cover Bruce's eyes so he doesn't scared.

When the film is over, they head out on patrol together. It's an easy night, warm and dry but little sign of trouble. They swing from roof top to roof top and glide between buildings. Move seamlessly together as if they'd been doing it their whole lives.

When the sun begins to crest on the horizon around five thirty, they shed their uniforms for civvies, and watch it rise from Wayne Tower. As father and daughter. As Wayne's.

I've never had this before. Cass signs.

"A sunrise?" Bruce asks.

A father. She replies.

"Hn." Bruce chuckles. "How is going?"

Perfect. She signs. "Love it." She says. "Love you."

She presses a kiss to Bruce's cheek and the fire inside of him burns warm as the summer sun.

~

Damian never expected love. Never considered it even. He was raised with a mission, a purpose. That was the goal and everything else was superfluous.

Bruce can't take credit for teaching him otherwise. It's Dick who did the hard work. Who broke the icey exterior and protective walls, this fierce little nine year old had created. Had shown him that life wasn't meant to be about Batman's cause, or Robin's title, or inheriting the Demon's Head. But that it was about love. About family.

Even so, as well as Damian had learned Dick's lesson, he was still his father's son. Words of affection came as easy to him as they did to Bruce, which is to say, not at all.

So Bruce never expected, hadn't with any of his children, but would never from Damian, to hear those words.

And then Scarecrow had reared his ugly head, and his fear toxin had brought out the very worst of Damian's upbringing. Every awful trial he had faced with the League, mangled together with Bruce's death, and Dick's amnesia, Jon's age change and Damian's own murder at the hands of the Heretic. Until Damian was sobbing in Bruce's arms, begging Bruce not to abandon him.

"Damian, listen to me." Bruce had said, his hands cupping Damian's face. "I will never make you leave, never."

"Please Father, please." Damian had sobbed, had begged into Bruce's chest. "I love you so much. Please don't make me leave. I beg you, please. I'll make you proud, I swear it."

Bruce had wondered if Damian could feel the fire that burned for him, deep inside Bruce's chest. Wondered it if had kept him warm, as Bruce had held him on the Cave floor, and waited for the storm to pass.

~

It's Bruce's birthday, so Alfred usually lets him sleep past twelve.

Ace however, does not. Too smart for her own good, she's long since worked out how to open his bedroom door. She bounds in around eleven am, and leaps onto the bed. Wakes him with sloppy kisses and a wet nose.

"Easy, girl. Easy." Bruce's voice is deep and dry with sleep, his eyelids heavy. But Ace is insistent, relentless even, despite her age.

"Is he up yet, Acey?"

Ace barks happily, and Bruce winces at the volume. Jason is stood in the doorway.

"Come on old man." He says. "Your dog needs a walk."

Bruce blinks blearily, is sure Jason must be a hallucination or a mirage or something.

"We'll go without you if you don't hurry up." Jason huffs slightly, and Bruce stumbles from bed, pulls on his sweats.

The sun is already high in the sky and for spring it's already pleasantly warm. Jason and Bruce walk through the grounds of the Manor in companionable silence. Ace racing ahead of them for the ball Jason throws.

"So how are you?" Bruce says eventually. The sun is warm on his face. It's been a few weeks since he's seen Jason out of uniform. It feels good to see him in the day.

"I'm good." Jason says softly. "Really good, actually."

"Yeah?" Bruce asks.

Jason smiles. "Yeah." He pauses. "How about you?"

Bruce shrugs. "Ah you know. Same old, same old."

Jason grins, the kind he used to do when he was Robin. "Same old?" He asks, eyebrow raised. "Aren't you a new old today?"

Bruce opens his mouth to speak, but they round the corner of the Manor, onto the terrace and his words fail him.

There are balloons and cake and music. His entire family gathered round a table of cards and gifts and pictures. They cheer when they see him and Steph, Duke and Tim lead an awful rendition of Happy Birthday.

Jason bumps his shoulder. "I erm... I didn't get you a present." He says sheepishly. "But I did organise this." He gestures vaguely at his siblings.

Bruce's heart is full of fire. He grins. "It's perfect, Jay. Thank you." He pulls the younger man into a hug.

"Happy birthday, B." Jason mumbles. "Love you."

"I love you, too."

[komorim]

till death do us apart

ft. ayato, diluc, kaeya

the words “till death do us apart” are a common part of almost everyone’s wedding vows, but how many people who say it really mean it?

content warnings // cheating. angst. arranged marriage. suggestive content. minor minor explicit language. divorce. insecurities. misunderstandings.

author’s note // did you miss me? did you? well, i’m back at it again with more angst! i might be adding a few more characters to this prompt later on, but for now it’s just these three

ミ　AYATO

the kind hearted yashiro commissioner that you called yours was so ever caring towards you. his love was unconditional and never ending, yet he thinks that it’s never enough. in his eyes, you’re his precious spouse that deserves anything you want, and even the whole world. if you wanted the moon, just tell him and he’ll get it for you. no words could ever come close to how much he loves you. the small gifts he gives you, not on special days, but on normal days because he thinks he shouldn’t need a reason to spoil his favorite person in the world; the time he takes off just to spend time with you, since he thinks that your needs are just as important as his work. even though he doesn’t say the three words often, everything he does shows how much he loves you.

six years into your marriage and you strongly believe that there’s no one in the entire world who loved you more than the blue haired man you call your husband. his love for you never fails to amaze you, and the insecurities that had existed when the two of you first met are now nowhere to be seen.

so why is he standing in front of you with such a solemn expression? did something happen at work? is he too stressed? just why does he keep on saying things that don’t make sense at all?

“y/n, i-” he opens and closes his mouth several times, unable to repeat his words after seeing your expression.

your voice shakes a bit as you speak, “ayato, i must’ve heard wrong, right? there’s no way you would…you would never want to leave me, so why?”

you can see the conflict he has with himself in his eyes as he’s reluctant to say it again. however, the part of him that loved you more loses as he opens his mouth again, this time, the words coming out are spoken with a colder voice. “y/n, i’ll say it again. let’s get a divorce.”

maybe it’s because of the shock, but you don’t feel your heart breaking into millions of tiny pieces yet. you don’t register his words even though it’s his second time announcing them. your legs give out and before you can fall pathetically onto the floor, ayato reaches out and grabs your arms, steadying you.

the small action made you gain a bit of hope, but when you look up at him expectantly, he only looks away before letting go of you.

it was this notion of his, his unwillingness to even look at you that finally cracked your heart. you hear the cogs in your brain turning at an incredible pace, analyzing everything that has happened recently, trying your hardest to find even the slightest hint at why your loving husband is standing in front of you, asking for a divorce.

you feel numb all over as you search his face for answers, unable to find the reason yourself. “why,” you croak out, “why are you asking for a divorce?” when he doesn’t respond, you continue your interrogation, trying to be reasonable. “am i making you unhappy? have i done something wrong?”

“no, y/n, it’s not your problem it’s just-”

“i can fix whatever is troubling you, i promise,” you interrupt, not wanting to hear an answer that might break you permanently. you look down at the floor, praying to any and every deity. you could accept every reason except-

“i don’t love you anymore, y/n. i’m sorry, but i just can’t keep going on anymore.”

huh? though it wasn’t the worse answer he could’ve given you, you feel so much more uncomfortable hearing this particular answer. yes, you couldn’t even think about what you would do if he was cheating, but at least you could resent someone. but if the situation was like this, who is there to bear the frustration caused by your heartbreak?

the tears that you were holding back start to hang onto the edge of your eyes, unwilling to spill over just yet; you’re unwilling to let him see how much this is hurting you.

yet even if the tears aren’t sliding down your face, your less than calm voice sells you out. “how could you say that…?” you ask. “six years, ayato. six years. how many six years does a person even have in their life to use on relationships that won’t even last? how could you tell me to my face that you don’t love me anymore? did those six years not mean anything to you?”

he looks at your sincerely. “i loved you, i really did. those six years were wonderful and i enjoyed spending them with you from the bottom of my heart. but, i just don’t feel the same anymore. i can’t continue pretending that i still love you like before.”

the past tense he used in his first sentence was like a claw that ripped out your heart. you couldn’t feel your heart beating anymore. when he avoids your gaze once again, it was answer enough.

this was it.

ミ　DILUC

you understood the reasoning behind your marriage with diluc. his father and yours were very good friends and business partners alike, and it thrilled the both of them when they found out that together, they had fathered two children around the same age. and as many good friends would believe, a marriage between their two precious children would be absolutely adorable.

honestly, you and diluc were very good friends in the beginning anyways, so the arranged marriage never seemed to bother the both of you very much. but nonetheless, neither of you really had your heart in the marriage. in fact, you both thought you should’ve cut off the deal the moment you turned legal. though, that didn’t really happen.

diluc’s respect for his father’s dying wish made him compromise and accept the agreement his father and yours had made. and your compassion made you go along with the marriage.

even if the feelings you hold for each other never went beyond the boundaries of a platonic relationship, diluc never treated you poorly. his heart had you in it, but definitely not in the form of a spouse, a lover. however, you didn’t see anything wrong with that and never bothered to complain because of it.

though his kindness soon penetrated the wall you called reason. slowly, you began to fall for the man with a warm smile, the man who embraces you when you felt down, the man who would do anything for you.

it wasn’t difficult to fall for the red haired man. he cared for you and gave you his full attention. he noticed all your mood changes when no one else did. he comforted you when there was no one by your side, and he bought many gifts for you just to make you happy. in the eyes of any person, this would be the perfect husband to spend the rest of your years with. and in fact, he was the perfect partner for you. and when everyone would tease about how three years into your marriage and diluc still hasn’t touched you, he’ll tell them firmly that he’ll go at the pace you’re comfortable with. he would say that it’s your body and he has no right to pressure you to satisfy him.

so is that what he meant? he won’t pressure you to satisfy him because he has someone else who’s willing to?

you continue to stare at the sight in front of you, dumbfounded that this would occur. it was a sight of your husband in bed, covering another person behind him. the two of them were barely covered, not moving because you caught them in such an obvious position.

you had entered your house shortly before, happy to show diluc the cake you bought for his birthday, yet when you called out for him, there was no response. remembering that the walls in your shared house were rather thick, you assume that he was on the second floor, where it would be even harder for him to hear you. and indeed you were right. he didn’t hear you. he couldn’t, he was so caught up in peeling off the clothes of his lover.

his lover, a role you could not fulfill. you were just his spouse, a spouse he saw as a younger sibling. how could he have truly loved you? he was not you, a hopeless romantic who got the butterflies at a few kind gestures. he wasn’t the type to swoon just because you smile at him.

but you were.

you were exactly that type of person. so it hurt that much more watching diluc check up on the person he so desperately tried to hide from your sight. it hurt so much when his first reaction was to make sure they were okay instead of giving you a proper explanation. it hurt so fucking much.

“diluc, would you like to explain to me what’s happening?” you speak with a dead voice that matched your eyes, remaining calm although finding out that your husband cheated on you.

“y/n, can we talk about this later? i’m really sorry you had to see this, but i think we should both take a break and cool down.”

you laugh sarcastically. was this all you amounted to? even if he didn’t love you, how could he say that when everything you did for him came from the bottom of your heart? diluc ragnivindr was not a fool, he could see your honest and sincere intentions from the moment you started to love him. so did that just mean that you didn’t weigh as much in his heart?

“i understand,” you force out. you walk towards your shared closet where you grab a bag from deep within and start cleaning out your things.

“wait y/n, i don’t mean it like that.”

it was what you wished to hear. an explanation, anything, really just anything for him to just pay more attention to you, his spouse, than that disgusting human he hides behind himself. after all, what other word could you use the describe them? your marriage with diluc was public knowledge. it amazes you that anyone would try to get in the pants of someone who has a spouse. but after all, diluc didn’t see you like that.

you smile to yourself bitterly when you didn’t hear anything come from the man you loved. you didn’t hear any noise that indicated his reluctance at you packing your things and leaving. he tried absolutely nothing to stop you. and so you took your suitcase and walked out the front door, taking the door with you.

and with it, you closed the door to your failed marriage.

ミ　KAEYA

kaeya was definitely your favorite person in all of mondstat if not all of teyvat. he wasn’t one of those over possessive or strict husbands. he understood that you like to go out and have fun and he lets you enjoy your time alone. though when need be, he can also be clingy, hugging you while saying he misses you and many other things that only serve to make you flustered.

maybe in other situations you would find having a flirtatious husband a bit annoying, but kaeya knew his boundaries and mainly used his pick up jokes on you. it certainly is a nice change once in a while and the way it made you cringe was even more funny. his jokes were always tacky and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t enjoy them.

his laid back nature also meant that there were many movie dates in the safety of his arms at home, just cuddling while a movie plays in the background. it’s definitely an understatement to say that the two of you don’t often pay attention to the movies, but that doesn’t mean you enjoy these movie nights any less.

to be in his arms, to be in his company, to be with him. if you were completely honest, you wouldn’t like it any better than it is already. you loved him that much. and through every little thing he does for you, you can tell he loves you just as much if not more than you love him.

his love is shown in different forms. most of the times it appears as compliments and teasing just because kaeya loves to see your face heated up with the color of blood. he likes to see you stumble over your words as you fail to form coherent sentences. kaeya’s love also takes the form of acts of service. it’s one of his favorites things to do. he loves to go out of his way to help you with whatever you need, but you know he always has an ulterior motive, whether he’s looking for a kiss in return or for an extra date throughout the week.

though that’s what you love about him. you love how he never fails to assure you of his love for you. he’s far from a tsundere and even a complete stranger who didn’t know the two of you could see how utterly in love he is with you. you’ve never felt a need to be insecure in any point of your relationship with him. when you told him that you were mistreated in your previous relationship, he goes through extra lengths to make sure you feel loved.

so why?

why do you feel so uneasy? why do you feel sick to your stomach? why do you want to throw up as soon as possible? why is bile rising up your throat threatening to spill over?

in all honesty you should be fine with the sight in front of you. it was just a few foreigners who were caught up in the beauty kaeya possesses. you shouldn’t be surprised. he’s pretty enough to receive all this attention and more. you can totally relate to the girls flocking around him.

you reassure yourself that it’s okay. they’re foreigners. they’re new here in mondstadt. they’re not aware that kaeya is married, so it’s natural for a few of them to hit on him.

yet no matter what you say to yourself, you can’t help but overthink and worry. the girls around kaeya are so terribly pretty. what if that’s the type of person he actually likes? what if you’re not enough for him anymore? will he reconsider your marriage after he sees the plenty of other options he has?

will he throw you away?

all these thoughts and insecurities fly around in your head, and they seemingly will never come to a stop. the small container they’ve been kept inside of in the corner of your brain has suddenly been opened, and it can’t be closed now.

although you stand in a place not too far from where the worrisome scene is unfolding, kaeya does not notice you as he’s almost completely surrounded. it would be hard for him to escape the crowd, much less find you amidst the mountains of people.

you fumble with your hands, a habit you’ve always had since long before. it’s been a long time since you did this out of nervousness as kaeya was there to hold your hands in his whenever you did start. but obviously he can’t do that now.

the negative intrusive thoughts in your head do not go away, and you don’t have the courage to walk up to the crowd and claim kaeya as your husband. but what else could you do? were you really going to stand there idly as kaeya might be taken away from you? though if he was destined to leave you for someone better, what could there be done anyways?

your heart beats faster in frustration and your eyes grow red. you were so lost, you had no idea what you could do in this situation. this was the first time that this has happened and you had no measures of stopping it. even before when kaeya got hit on, he would always reject the person before you had any chance to get worried. but he wasn’t so quick to reject the girls around him today. was he really having second thoughts?

that’s when it happens.

a girl from the crowd stood on her toes to reach kaeya’s height and placed a small kiss on his cheek. you watch his eye visibly widen as he holds the place in which he was kissed. in that moment, you can think of absolutely nothing. all the thoughts before perished, but with the absence of those thoughts came the arrival of fresh tears that slide slowly down your face.

the feeling of despair.

“kaeya,” you call out softly.

although your voice was not loud and easy to miss, kaeya could recognize anything of yours in an instant, and his eye grows wider when he catches your face past the crowd engulfing him. he nods to the girls as he starts to escape the crowd, walking to you in the process.

“y/n, it’s not what it looks like, i was going to come find you, but then these girls suddenly-”

“i thought something happened to you,” you hiccup, “so i came to find you. but this is what i see?”

“no, really, y/n, let me explain, nothing happened. they were just being friendly and-”

you stare at him with tears hanging onto your tear ducts, “that’s not what you call friendly. they were adamantly flirting with you and you not only didn’t stop them, but you also encouraged them to continue. that girl over there kissed you, and you still didn’t do anything.”

you let out a strangled sigh, your breath uneven from all the shock and frustration you’re going through. you bring your gaze to the ground, not having the confidence to even lift your head up.

you let out a small laugh, “what would’ve happened if i didn’t call out to you, i wonder? i agree, she’s pretty, and you might not want to settle for me, someone who had nothing in common with her. but, couldn’t you wait until you ended with me to flirt with others? did you really have to do this to me? on our anniversary nonetheless.”

kaeya ruffles his hair, annoyance getting to him to as he doesn’t know what to say either. he himself doesn’t know why he didn’t stop the girls from their actions when he knew that they would hurt you.

“maybe it’s best we split up after all.”

at this, kaeya hurriedly grabs your shoulders, making you stare at him once again. “no, i refuse.”

“please, kaeya. i’m tired. i don’t think i can take this many girls hitting on you anymore. i just can’t go on like this. it eats at me inside and it’ll devour me sooner or later. we should just stop all of this.”

“please, y/n, don’t do this to me. i’ll tell everyone, i’ll tell all of teyvat that i’m yours and that no one should hit on me. i swear i’ll ignore everyone. i have eyes for no one but you, y/n.”

“that’s just because you haven’t seen your options yet. you’ll find better kaeya. you’ll find someone so much better than me,” you say softly.

you can tell how desperate from the way he pleads with his gaze. asking you not to leave, asking you to stay with him for all of eternity. but you set your mind, and you were going to go through with this.

“after all, i’m not that great in the first place.”

do not copy or repost my works. likes, reblogs, and comments are appreciated.

[mewmewtric]

Could I request Ayato fluff? If that’s okay? Like general headcanons on how he’ll treat a significant other?

Thank you so much

First anon huh. THANK YOU SO MUCH SHDHDDHDHSSS

Anyway so here are three of my headcanons, written as ayato x traveller (you, unspecified gender). I have not seen fluff fics, much less know how to write it, but I’ll try!

Ayato has been dealing with lies and facades for so long... but with you, he can be himself. 

In public, he will still have to keep a good image. So no hand holding, keeping the mysterious prince charming demeanor that he portrayed the first time he saw you. But there is something else. He would have developed a subtle, nonverbal code for you two.

Sighing while fixing hair: I don’t like this.

Rubbing the middle finger and thumb together: Let’s meet up.

Nodding head thrice: Are you alright?

Gentle eye contact with slow blinking: I love you.

The two of you have your own little language there. A little secret. A cute, discreet way to show your love and true thoughts.

Walking side by side without physical contact, gently blinking to each other. Perhaps sneaking little hand touches in public, when he ascertains that no one is looking. Sometimes he forgets what your boba order is. And there he goes, nodding and sighing and just trying so hard to communicate without saying anything. Okay, he’s had a lot of experience due to politics, but it’s you. He would never want you to misunderstand him, or not give you what you want. To see your face morph into one any less than positive would simply just make him so guilty.

He would go to great lengths for you sometimes, or taking the effort to remember your likes and quirks, because he thinks that it is normal and what everyone should do. His servants and family have done such for him. Setting up welcoming receptions for whenever you come back. Gifting you simple yet elegant hair clips that belie talented craftsmanship and a very high price, because beautiful ones would divert attention to your pure beaming smile.

Once, you were stuck in a heavy downpour in Inazuma City. You forgot to bring an umbrella, or anything to cover your head. Honestly, it’s fine, really, you spent many days travelling outside with no shelter and trudging through wet mud.

But Ayato would never want that to happen to you if he can help it.

It was just so that he had a business meeting in Inazuma City. And that he knew you did not bring an umbrella.

So he searched the streets, under heavy rain, with a light blue umbrella adorned with a pattern of white tsubaki. For the one he loved, the one who made his heart race like it should never had, the one that he would give tsubaki much more brightly coloured than the ones on his umbrella to.

When he finally found you standing in an open street, hand out catching the rain drops, his breath caught in panic. 

No. They’ll catch a cold.

Have they been like this for too long?

Am I too late? Are they too cold?

His footsteps unconsciously quicken, starting to run in a way unbefitting of the always elegant leader of the Kamisato Clan. But he did not care. All that mattered was to keep you safe.

He extended the hand holding his umbrella forward quickly, almost jerking it out, to cover your blonde head. Not a good idea, as the sudden, impulsive movement, unlike the planned thrusts of his sword in battle, made him lose his balance. He did not - could not - stop his feet in time, his body crashing into yours, almost pushing you out of the umbrella.

He wrapped his free arm around you and pulled you back in. Your body, tiny compared to his, softly landed on his own. 

Luckily no one but the two of you were there. If not, not only would Inazumans see their reserved and graceful Yashiro Commissioner break his character, but they might even see his ears burning red...

“Do not stay out in the rain, Traveller. We can make our way to find shelter before the carriage comes.”

“I’m fine. I had to sleep in the rain a few days. This is nothing.”

“Not if I can help it. Besides, is this not normal?”

“What?”

“My family and servants always help me shelter from the rain like this.”

“Running to you just to cover you?”

“Yes.”

Your confused, flushed face... it almost made him want to laugh. It is so funny sometimes, the way the human face contorts to make all sorts of fascinating expressions. Your expressions, in particular, seem to influence him. 

But in private, it's more of you comforting or doing things for him.

He will dismiss his servants, his guests, even Thoma and Ayaka. Just the two of you. He will shove his work to the side of his table. Tell you to come closer.

And he will ask you of your travels before Teyvat. What are the wonders you have seen. Who have you met. Maybe... if there was anyone you kept as close to your heart as you do for him~

He is just so eager to listen, like a little kid ready for his bedtime story. So you agree. Telling him of the wondrous sights of many different worlds. The unique culture of your hometown. Your sibling, and your views on how they could possibly have ended up leading the Abyss Order.

You ramble on and on. Ayato, he has this way to make people talk. Be it for business or getting someone to tell them their views and stories. Is it his laidback yet proper demeanour? The way that he can encourage and manipulate people? It does not matter. With him you somehow feel safe to expose yourself.

"...sometimes, I do feel lonely. In this world I am stuck in, far from my home. At least I have you for now-"

A whiff of cypress wafts into your nose.

A soft weight presses on your shoulder.

“You...have me?”

A pause before you answer.

“Yes.”

Warm arms gently encompass you. Ayato sighs, coincidentally close to your ear.

“I... love you so much, do you know that?”

Throughout his life, he rarely ever got to speak his thoughts. He was always taught to wear a mask of decorum everywhere he went.

But with you, he can let that go. He can tell you he loves you so many times because that is what he feels, and he never has to hide it around you. He will repeat it over and over, because you can listen to his true thoughts.

And he loves you for that.

[13uswntimagines]

McFiance (Sam x Reader)

Requested by @hales548​  : R is a basketball player (who is taller than Sam by a few inches). They are also teammates with Sue Bird on Team USA. The USWNT have a day off on the day of the gold medal match for the basketball team. Sam suggests that the team goes to support the women's basketball team during their game. Reader surprises Sam after receiving their medal by proposing in front of both their teams and the world. Lots of fluffy happy moments.

Author’s Note: First and Foremost Happy Birthday my dude! I hope you have an awesome Day!! @literaryhedgehog​ and I had a lot of fun writing this (and it gave us an idea for another one...) so i really hope you enjoy it!

“So are we just going to pretend that you didn’t drag us here to watch Mchottie shoot baskets?” 

Sam almost missed Sonnett’s comment, watching as her girlfriend did a layup, her eyes following the ink that accentuated her bicep. and tricep. General arm area. God, her girlfriend’s arms were amazing. Delectable. Heaven‘s gift to her…? She didn’t care if that was overkill, the fact was her girlfriend had some beautiful arm muscles perfectly outlined by the tattoos Sam loved to trace with her fingers whenever she had the opportunity. 

“Sonnett if you keep talking during the game you’ll miss something. I’m not explaining why someone’s doing a free throw if you miss the foul again.” Megan said, elbowing the blond defender and glaring in her direction. You had spent months planning this, and the blinds complaining wasn’t about to mess this up. 

“You’re just pouting cause Mcsexie came off after the half,” Emily huffed, rubbing her arm. 

“This isn’t a fucking Grey’s anatomy episode, every player doesn’t need a nickname with a mick,” Tobin laughed, shaking her head at Sam, who still hadn’t looked away from you. She was glad the tall blond had found love like she had found Christen. Sam lit up when she was around you and vice versa, you completed each other and made a hella cute couple (and took amazing couples photos helped by your 3 inches over Sam). 

“And I would actually appreciate it if you didn’t nickname my fiance ‘Mcsexie.’” Megan said, offhandedly. “For starters it’s demeaning, but also, I mean come on. You know Sue and Y/n, you’ve met their teammates, you can’t just call them the stupid nicknames you give literally every other girl to annoy your girlfriend.” 

“SWOOSH” several people in the crowd said interrupting the conversation. Emily jumped, not expecting 

“Fuck yeah, that’s my Mchottie,” Sam yelled, standing from her seat as you got a 3 pointer in seconds before the buzzer went off. Then the ref blew their whistle and the two coaches ran across the court. 

“Why can Sam call her Mchottie and I can’t?” Emily whined, missing the worried looks Megan was sending Sam’s way when you didn’t pop back up. 

“Not the time babe, Y/n just got fouled,” Lindsey said softly, leaning close to her girlfriend so she could hear, placing a hand on the defender’s thigh to calm down her boisterousness slightly. 

One of your teammates gave you a hand up and you stood in a group of your teammates, waiting to hear the call. You were pretty sure you knew what it was going to be, considering the defender had smacked you in the face as they tried to get the ball. You had still gotten the points, and fallen back just like you trained to do (so you didn’t accidentally foul your defender back) but they could have decided it was accidental. It probably was accidental- you did have several inches on the girl defending you. Still, it was unnecessary contact and you grinned as the ref beckoned you to take your place at the free-throw line.

“That was a world-class flop, I bet she took lessons from you, Pino,” Tobin snorted as you stepped up to the line. 

“Nah, she got it from Sue. I do a bit more rolling to really get my point across,” Megan shrugged, popping a piece of popcorn into her mouth. 

“She’s got the best stats in the league, there’s no way that she’s going to miss these,” Sam mumbled, more to herself than the rest of the group. You worked your ass off to be the best, spent hours taking shots from the line for moments just like that. You were the best for a reason, and now you just had to show it off. 

Emily rolled her eyes. Your team was up by 16, so there was no way you were going to lose no matter what the outcome of these next three shots were (an opinion she thought better to not voice considering the death grip Sam had on her seat). 

She looked around to see rows of people in the audience raising their hands in the air as you lined up to take your first shot. 

“SWOOSH!”

*****

Your grin was blinding as you bent to accept your metal, your eyes glued to your girlfriend rather than the commissioner placing the gold around your neck. It was only now that you felt the butterflies bloom in your belly, fluttering excitedly. You had been dead calm about the game but terrified of what you had planned for after. 

What if she said no? Everyone, you knew assured you she wouldn’t, but what if it was too soon? You had both talked about the future as though there would be one, and while you hadn’t specifically said ‘hey Sam, I want to marry you’ you were pretty sure she knew. Unless she didn’t.

“You better take a deep breath before you pass out kid,” Sue’s voice broke through your internal ramble, her warm hand on your shoulder grounding you back in reality. You blinked at the veteran’s kind eyes, breathing in through your nose and out through your mouth. 

“Good, now I think you’ll need this yeah?” She smiled, passing you the tiny ring box. You clutched it tightly, running your thumb over the velvet. Some people said it was corny, but you wanted everything to be perfect. To fulfill the dream your girlfriend had in her head since she was a little girl. 

You took another deep breath, squaring your shoulders and swaggering over to the group of soccer players staring at you from the sidelines. 

“Hey superstar,” You smiled, engulfing your girlfriend in a very sweaty hug, ignoring the gagging noises from the blond defender behind her. 

“Hi goldie,” Sam said, giggling. “Or do you prefer just plain ‘winner’?”

“Hmm, you can call me anything you like baby,” You said, pulling back, suddenly feeling all the bravado and swagger you had on the court fill you. “as long as you let me call you my wife,” You finished, dropping to one knee and pulling out the ring. 

“Oh my god,” Sam breathed, looking down at you. 

You gulped, your mouth suddenly feeling very dry.“I’m not really sure how I’m supposed to do this, but I really fucking love you. You’re my first thought in the morning, and at night and like a billion times in between. Every time anything happens, you’re the one I want to tell.  I want to share everything with you. Every experience, every moment, every win, and every loss with you for the rest of my life. So, will you marry me?” 

You blinked up at the woman in earnest, waiting with bated breath for her answer. Sam opened and closed her mouth a few times, and just as you thought she was going to respond, Emily gasped. “I thought it was supposed to be a ring pop?”

“Sonnet!” Megan and Sam said at the same time, both turning to glare at her 

“What?” Emily said, “you always joked that diamond rings were overrated and that a ring pop...” going quiet at Lindsey’s “just shut up” look. 

“Well,” you said, clearing your throat as you drew the attention back to yourself, “as you can see it’s not a ring pop. Or a diamond. It’s a very pretty green onyx ring that I would like to give my girlfriend/fiance…”

“Just shut up and kiss me,” Sam said, cutting off your rambling, grabbing the front of your jersey, and pulling you into a kiss. 

“Is this a yes?” You mumbled against her lips, your neck bent at an awkward angle and unsure what to do with your hands considering you still had the open ring box in your left and you didn’t want to drop the ring. 

“It’s a definitely,” she said, holding out her hand so you could slip the ring onto her finger. 

“Cool,” you said, grinning as you took just long enough to get the ring on her finger before she pulled you into another kiss, her fingers tango long in the baby hairs at the back of your neck, and your hands firmly grabbing her hips. 

You were so engrossed in your fiancé (and how great it felt to call her that) that you almost missed Emily asking “So like, they’re McFiances now right?” 

[singtheskyandfightlikehell]

BatFamily Headcanons: Stuffed Animals

In an attempt to productively combat my recent writer’s block, I’m practicing writing the batfam characters through short character study fics (which I will post once I make enough) and comparative headcanons. I might end up making short fics out of these, as well, since some of them got a bit long anyways

Today I decided to explore how many stuffed animals each member of the batfam (plus an adjacent character or two) has, what they think of them, how they got them, etc. I’ve got eleven characters on this list (and I’m still missing some, sorry)

Bruce:

Bruce put aside stuffed animals when he was eleven, deciding it was time to become serious. However, since acquiring children, he has been gifted a number of stuffed animals, ranging from a small and realistic brown bat to a child-sized bear wearing his cape and cowl. None of the children know this, but he keeps them all in a prominent position in his walk-in closet. Sometimes, when he has a particularly nasty fight with one of his kids, or he discovers something (like an injury) that they were hiding from him, he’ll tell the stuffed animals all the things he struggles to tell his children in the hopes that, one day, he’ll figure out how to express himself when it actually counts.

Alfred:

Alfred has no stuffed animals of his own, but he keeps the old, worn teddy bear that was once Thomas’ and later Bruce’s, alongside the somewhat lopsided bunny that Martha attempted to sew for Bruce when he was two. They sit side by side in a spotless glass cabinet filled with other memories that various members of the family have at one point or another attempted to cast aside.

Dick:

Dick has a pair of stuffed elephants, Eleonore and Zitka, and a teddy bear of his own, all from the circus. Most of the time they sit on the shelf under one of his nightstands, but when he has a particularly bad day, he’ll hold them all tightly until he falls asleep. If he’s crying, he finds it slows the tears to press kisses to the tops of their heads, or just smoosh his whole face into them. Sometimes, if he’s having a particularly good day – especially if no one else is sharing in his good mood – he’ll tell them about whatever made him happy. The rarest occasions are a bittersweet combination of both, the moments when he dwells on his happiest memories of his parents. When this happens, he is more likely to address them than his family, talking to them like old friends who were “there” for the things he’s recalling. It reminds him of the parties he would host as a small child, attended by his stuffed animals and his parents and sometimes other people from the giant family that was Haly’s, and for just that moment he’ll feel suspended somewhere between grief and content.

Barbara:

Barbara had lots of stuffed animals growing up, but as she got older, she gave most of them away. The only one she kept was a little otter that her father gave her for her first birthday. She doesn’t remember this, of course, but they have an old home video of that day which she’s seen a few times, and she know it’s one of her dad’s favorites to watch when he’s feeling nostalgic. She does remember the way she used to drag the otter with her everywhere she went when she was about four, and it’s so worn now that all of its original fluffiness has disappeared. She sets it up near her main computer and uses it in place of a rubber duck.

Jim:

When Babs decided she was too old for her stuffed animals, Jim was instructed to give them away at one of the Gotham children’s toy drives he helps run as commissioner. Only about half of them ever make it out of the house, because he keeps looking at them and remembering little moments that involve each of them. He has two boxes full of them that he swears he’s going to bring to the next drive, but he’s been swearing that for over ten years now.

Jason:

When Jason first arrived at the manor, he swore up and down that stuffed animals were dumb kids toys that he was way too old for. The first time Dick showed up at the manor after Jason was there, he brought a plush dog he’d picked up on the way there, unsure what to get his surprise new brother but not putting an excess of thought into it either. After all, he wasn’t about to ask Bruce what Jason might like. Jason made a show of scorn and tossing the toy in the trash, but when Dick was gone he dug it back out. When he was sleeping, he clutched the dog protectively against his chest like it might be snatched away at any time. When he wasn’t sleeping, he kept it hidden in a box wedged under a floorboard beneath the bed, alongside his other contraband. It was there when he died and it’s still there now. Every time he’s in the manor, he thinks about sneaking into his old room to retrieve it, alongside some of his other old belongings, but he never does. His reasoning alternates between not caring, being too old for toys, not wanting to set foot in his old room, and not wanting to get caught caring after all these years.

He does however have an obnoxiously long bright red snake that Roy won at some sort of archery carnival game while they were supposed to be tracking a suspect. He’d griped at Roy for wasting time with frivolous games, a complaint that was very on brand for their relationship. He’s pretty sure Roy saw through him, though, and understood the real reason he was so antsy to leave the carnival, given his soft apology later that night. He also recently acquired a floppy stingray, a gift from Lian for his latest birthday. She told him that she’d gotten to pet a stingray at the aquarium where she’d bought it, and it reminded her of him. Specifically, she’d said he was, “Kinda dangerous and maybe a little scary, but actually really soft to anyone who’s nice enough”. He wasn’t sure how he felt about that description, but the gift had a place of pride, resting atop an old model of his helmet that Roy had “defaced” with a sweet message that always made Jason smile.

Cass:

Cass grew up without stuffed animals, and was honestly a little confused at first about why she might want one. The first one she ever got was a tiny key-chain cat that was given to her by a little girl she saved. She was unsure what to make of the object itself, but she treasured it as a symbol, proof that she was doing good in the world. It was Steph who convinced her to look for more, to look for stuffed animals in her “style”. Eventually, she got two of the most different ones she could find: an iridescent octopus packed tightly with beans and made of a coarse fabric, and a large fluffy goose that squished like a cloud and was made of the softest fabric imaginable. She likes tossing the octopus lightly in the air to feel the weight of it, and faceplanting into the giant goose. She also has a big bear holding a plush heart that Steph got her for their first Valentine’s.

Tim:

Tim’s relationship with stuffed animals is a bit more complicated. He had five growing up: a dog, a bear, a lion, a rabbit, and a lamb. They had names, stories, personalities, and they were his friends (his only friends, at the time). When he was seven, he woke up one day to find them gone. His mother scolded him for his tears, explaining that he was too old for baby toys, and that his attachment to them would only hinder his path forward. For years, he felt ashamed whenever he thought of his grief towards them, because he knew they were just toys, he knew he was being a baby about it, and yet…

It wasn’t until he was fifteen years old and stumbled across an article about autistic people and the projection of feelings onto objects that he understood why he had been willing to sneak out at night to search through pawn store after pawn store and – once – the landfill in the hopes of seeing his beloved toys again. As a teen in the Wayne household, he knew he could get as many stuffed animals as he liked, but he couldn’t bring himself to do so after what had happened before. He got one giant, floppy moose, barely half a foot shorter than himself, that he clings to like an octopus when he manages to lay down, whether he succeeds in falling asleep or not. Additionally, on a night after Jason made amends with the family, Tim returned to his room to find a fifteen inch plush latte with a cute little face on the mug portion and a sticky note on top that simply read: Sorry for trying to kill you a bunch. My bad :) He keeps it on top of his dresser, and while he doesn’t really hug it, he did discover it was the perfect object for chucking at his siblings’ heads whenever the situation calls for it.

Steph:

Steph loves stuffed animals. While she never got any of the fancy brand name ones, or the luxuriously soft ones, or the hyper-realistic ones, her mom had a tradition of buying her one for every birthday, Christmas, and Easter. She soon had quite a collection, and – like Tim – she gave them all names and personalities. She played out complex scenarios with them and the few dolls she had, designing an intricate world of wild concepts and plots. She also used her stuffed animals to conquer her fears, like thunderstorms and darkness, by pretending they were all more scared than she was, so she had to be brave for all of them. Steph still has her whole collection, as well as quite a few “nicer” (though equally loved) ones that she has acquired from various Waynes. At this point, pretty much everyone in the Wayne family has given her a stuffed animal at some time or other. For a couple of years now, she has taken to posing with her massive collection and making fake family Christmas cards to send out to everyone she knows, where she will update them on the well-being of any plushie they’ve given her.

Duke:

Duke also has a great love of stuffed animals, although he doesn’t match Steph for quantity. He only had a few beloved animals growing up, all of which he’s held onto (a panda, a penguin, a turtle, a frog, a leopard, and a pikachu). Since being fostered by Bruce, Duke has taken to searching out and buying only the rarest stuffed animals he can find: an anteater, a platypus, a manatee, a sloth, and an axolotl have made the cut so far. Bruce knows about this and has taken to keeping an eye out for anything interesting whenever he’s out. After accidentally mentioning it at a gala one time, it has since become his favorite topic, as getting drawn into an intense discussion with Bruce Wayne about where to acquire strange plushies for his son elicits one of two reactions from his guests: delighted awws or hilariously awkward attempts to steer the conversation back to high society definitions of business and pleasure. At Duke’s request, a large shelf was built around the top of his room, so that all of his stuffed animals can sit comfortably and be clearly seen.

Damian:

Damian was much like Jason when he arrived at the manor in more ways than one, but his determination to prove himself above stuffed animals was certainly on that list. He sneered at his siblings’ attempts to treat him like the child he swore he wasn’t. And honestly, even after he began to lower his walls just a little, he still wasn’t particularly fond of stuffed animals. Sure, he privately thought they were cute, and sure he might (might) find himself holding one at night if it happened to have been left in his bed by an annoying sibling, but in general he preferred live animals to fake ones. Real animals had personalities and feelings, fake ones did not, it was as simple as that, no matter what Stephanie claimed. But as time went on, Damian found himself acquiring a small army of stuffed animals against his will. Some of his siblings (Jason, Tim, sometimes Duke) gave them to him because they found it funny to watch him growl about how he was not an infant in need of deceitful comforts. Some of his siblings (Dick, Cass, sometimes Duke… sometimes his father as well) would give them to him because they knew he liked animals so they assumed he’d like imitations of animals as well. Steph would just give them to everybody, every now and then. But regardless of motive, Damian soon found his room overflowing with stuffed animals that were moderately cute but ultimately pointless.

It wasn’t until a patrol a few years after he’d taken on the mantle of Robin that he discovered a solution. Tim had hidden a tiny stuffed bear in the medical supply compartment of his utility belt, a felt bandage wrapped around its little head. He hadn’t been wounded, but the young girl he’d rescued had been bleeding from a wound that looked worryingly dirty. The bear had fallen out of the pouch, right into her lap, and she’d stared at it with wide eyes, surprise halting the flow of her tears. She’d held onto it the whole time he disinfected her arm and bandaged it, and afterwards he had insisted she keep it. For the first time that night, she’d smiled. After that, Damian began taking a few of his many stuffed animals out on patrol with him, ready to hand out to any and all injured, lost, or otherwise traumatized children once he’d rescued them from their troubles. Eventually he began running out of toys he’d been gifted, even though he kept getting new ones, so at some point he begins to regularly sneak out for the sole purpose of acquiring stuffed animals to hand out. He never tells his siblings, but he suspects they’ve found out anyway, when the presents they give him drastically decrease in size.

[phantasmaw]

GENERAL GENSHIN IMPACT VERSE.

Since I have quite a few Genshin Impact blogs/ocs following me, I decided to make a Genshin Impact verse for a select few muses! That way it will be easier for Genshin Impact muses to interact, considering GenImpact is so lore-heavy. The muses in this verse are: Visal, Sovann, Feris, Edelweiss, Imelda, Therese, and Gael.

Visal - Shard of Shattered Legacy

A traveling scholar and alchemist gifted with a cryo vision, Visal is a bit of a solitary person filled to the brim with formal manner and abundant knowledge. He rarely uses his vision, though he’s quite an expert in archonic, and therefore vision-related, history. If asked about his upbringing, he’ll say that he did not know his birth parents except for the single fact that one of them was adeptal in some form, and that a foster family raised him. This is only a tiny truth concealing a huge lie. He only mentions having adeptal lineage because of the physical traits he cannot hide– horns, a tail, and paws where feet should be.

In truth, Visal is the fragile remnant of a people and ancient nation, Qwythaer, long since lost to the times– and to their own folly. In the age of gods, Qwythaer had sought to separate itself from Teyvat entirely and create its own heavens. It’s now little more than a forgotten myth. He holds tiny fragments of another within him: the pieces of the brutally slain deity titled “Herald of the Heavens”. But this deity was not killed by another during the climactic end of the archon wars. No, it was killed by the very creature meant to protect it and its people. He was not born but made in the midst of agony, rage, and grief of people with no hope. He now lives as a dethroned prince all too happy to be in rags. That’s not to say he’s content with life; currently he’s trying to track down where concentrated numbers of his people have dispersed, as his people will never be able to receive visions from the archons in power within present day. Not that he can give them visions; his powers outside of his cryo vision are limited to him. He’s also searching for the two who remember the bitter fate of his birthplace just as well as he does: Feris and Sovann.

Sovann - Moonlit Funerary

A creature similar to the near-extinct yaksha of Liyue. Sovann and their brood of siblings were raised and trained as the Herald’s guard dogs before the archon war and unleashed upon the world during the archon war. By all accounts, Sovann and their siblings could have been divine; but the Herald’s light far outshone that of Sovann’s kin. So be it. They and their kin never wanted godhood, nor did they want the taste of blood staining their mouths for another’s gain. And so Sovann reminded the Herald just what it was that protected it in times of dark: the moonlit glint of vengeful teeth.

Sovann now makes their way across Teyvat as nothing more than a ghost story to tell children who try to wander too far from the glowing light of houses at night. Do not trust the moonlight, for it makes you feel safe in hostile darkness. Their story is one of fable now. But they are very, very real. They make a living from finding hidden evidence and information, clearing domains and ruins, and translating ancient tablets– though it won’t be Mora you pay them with. Curiously, they can also be hired to attempt making contact with one of the seven archons… if you have the right bargaining chips, of course.

Feris - Sunbathed Stonewarden

A seasoned and rugged journeyman with a geo vision who hails from the foothills of Mondstadt near Dragonspine. He claims fealty to no archon or nation, choosing instead to live a life of roaming throughout Teyvat as a commissionable guide, bodyguard, companion, or explorer. Though seemingly no place is home, he knows most of the nations’ customs, languages, and histories as if all of them had once been his home at some point.

He has full, vivid memory of the Herald’s doomed people– Qwythaer, a name that has been lost to time, like so many other lands, gods, and peoples drowned in the sea of blood the archon war spilled upon the world. He was the final attempt at a legacy for the Herald. When he failed to inherit even a shred of divinity or the ability to adapt to the Herald’s false gnosis, he was tossed aside. It was Sovann and their siblings who ultimately took him in. He was sealed away when the war began to reach its climax– only to be freed by the brutal killing of his parent, the Herald. The last time he saw Sovann was that sun-kissed morning, eating the raw flesh from the Herald’s massive body. He and Sovann have certainly heard tales of each other, though there has yet to be a reunion. Something in Feris tells him it would be best to keep that distance: that something being a tiny shard of godhood as the Herald’s last heir sitting deep in his chest. Even so, he’s secretly looking for Sovann– though he couldn’t begin to tell you what his motives are.

Edelweiss - Flowering Springtime

A dendro-wielding adeptus who has foregone the battle front and turned to providing a place of rest and comfort instead. She runs an inn known as Hollyhock Haven, which can appear anywhere throughout Teyvat due to being located within a Serenitea Pot. The building itself can appear just about anywhere, the though heart and soul of it are stored away within that tiny pocket of reality. She welcomes all travelers into her care, no matter who they are or where they’re from.

Visions and delusions will not work inside her inn or on the premises of her inn. Any sort of violence will be rendered useless. Conspiratorial words turn to poison on the tongue that can nearly choke the life out of the speaker. All secrets are kept under lock and key; if one tries to share a secret that’s not theirs, their lips will become sealed by flowers and thorns. Any damage inflicted onto any item or person will fail to stick for longer than a second or two. Her inn is a realm of peace. She will not have it any other way. And should anyone truly try to threaten her or her guests– well, there’s a reason she survived through the archon wars and still prevails today.

Imelda - Voice of Hedonistic Abandon

An ex-Fatui who has willingly become an apostasy of the Tsaritsa and her people, Imelda now travels as a well-known (if not utterly taboo) authoress and songstress. Very few people will actually know who she is when they lay eyes on her. She’s changed quite a bit since her early, naive days beneath the rule of the cryo archon. She possesses an electro vision and a dendro delusion. There are rumors that the Imelda who used to serve the Tsaritsa succumbed to the awful havoc of her delusion, and her body was never recovered from the massive monster of vines and growth left behind. She would only smile cryptically at that tale.

She makes no efforts to conceal her amoral character and actively encourages others to follow their hearts– indeed, she wants everyone’s hearts to eat them alive, just as hers did. She holds no reverie for the archons, nor for people, nor for animals, nor for adepti, nor for flora, nor for the very earth she stands upon. After all, why offer reverence to that which is all dependent upon each other?

Therese - Disillusioned Archivist

A young woman from Mondstadt, Therese has been distanced from her family ever since her brother was lost to the abyss and her parents simply stopped acknowledging he had ever existed. At first, Therese went into training to become part of the clergy for the Cathedral. Upon her 16th birthday and having another near-death experience when faced with a pyro abyss mage, in which she received a hydro vision, Therese abandoned her post to train as a knight instead. She hasn’t been formally inducted into the knights yet. She’s doubting she ever will be, with the way she so curtly and coldly questions the system of power and process within Mondstadt. Still, she is often granted the right to take adventuring commissions and keep the people safe. She most often works as Lisa’s assistant and has started an impressive archival book of all the monsters she crosses paths with in Teyvat.

Gael - Glow of Unfamiliar Fire

A boy born into a village stuck in time, the first vision-bearer since the fall of Khaenri’ah. Almost everyone expected him to die before he was even three weeks old; he was premature, barely breathing, and wouldn’t take milk or water. But on the sixth day of his short, short life, he received a divine gift: A Pyro vision inlaid into the very hand that his mother had grasped only moments before, weeping for the loss of her child. Everyone in the village rejoiced. The child had survived and was the first to be blessed in centuries. Perhaps their sins were forgiven. Perhaps this was a sign for them and only them, that Celestia now had room for another. Surely that was why this ill-fated child had been granted a vision too young to even use it, stuck through its hand like a growth of fiery gemstone. If they raised him in accordance to Heavenly ordaine, perhaps they would be remembered forever. And with each year, each evolution of their miracle child, they became more and more convinced. He spoke languages unheard, he grew wings, he glowed like the sun, he gave blessings like the Adepti of Liyue.

But all turned to ash upon the boy’s seventeenth birthday– ash from the very vision they had worshipped, ash the same color as the salvation they yearned for. What they had failed to understand was that this vision was not a gift, but a curse. And now that curse wanders Teyvat, a stranger on familiar land, terrified but curious of the shadow of Abyss that nips at his heels with each turn….

[bottledemotion]

The cries of our tune, the melodies in our laughter (Part 1/3)

- Venti X Female Reader; Part 1/3 of the fic

- Reader looks like a Bard, but she’s more of the type of person who compose, sings, and plays instruments as a hobby.

- warning: Angst, implied/referenced child neglect

- 3.6k+ words; Rated T

- A/N: So uhm, hi. This acc is not dead, this fic just took me longer to finish than expected. Purely self indulgent, this idea has been stuck on my mind for far too long. So you might notice some inaccurate information regarding certain topics.

The first key that she drew across the strings to her fiddle vibrates to the empty room. Its note filled up the silence enclosed within her. She didn't drew another one as a follow up, instead, she let the note echoed for a moment, giving her a moment of time to take a deep breath, and finally, continue playing.

From silence, it got fully drowned to a song she played to her fiddle. She let her body move in accordance to the melodies her fiddle struck, like a water in the sea or the wind in the sky, free and in tune.

From her body movements and the soft music she's playing, everyone will truly expect she's the "Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt."

Because she is.

She's the perfect example and definition of a "genius" and "perfection". Their words, not hers for she is not the type to brag, only her parents. From the trophies and awards from every competition she sweeped victories are displayed on every wall available to her tiny room, her parents took every opportunity to brag about this to everyone they talked to. Milking their reactions and the worth of having a child who is a "genius bard" to a low class family, taking every opportunity to raise their families name social status up in the skies by making their very own daughter stand on the podium like a artifact on display on a high class auctions, taking all of their attention and money just to commission to her.

To her disbelief, no one judged her about being in a low class family. Yes she got foul looks and cruel words whispered behind her back, it's one of the perks when living in the city of freedom after all, but those mostly got shot down when others gave them a taste of their own medicines which is much more worse than hers.

She guesses this is one of the perks of being a famous bard in the city of freedom.

It's funny to watch their disgusted stares and harsh words sending her way, thinking that those will help them to become "perfect" like what everyone else says about her. It's also funny to hear "perfect" and "[Name]" to be in the same sentence too. To every eye looking at her, all they see is perfection. But if you ask [Name] herself, there's no perfect from the venomous lies she spit hidden behind on pretty words and tunes she plays.

If there's one thing right about the whispers they spout about her, it would be her song. Yes every song she makes and plays holds perfection.

But most of those lack life.

Like hers

A high, off key tune disturbed her raging thoughts, making her huffed under her breath and stopped her movements. She took a deep breath and tried again, this time with full concentration from gliding the drew from the fiddle and moving freely from it, in passion and grace from her movements. Both in sync, making her look like she's free.

But she's not. She is not a water in the sea nor the wind in the sky, for she is not truly free from the cage she got herself locked up to.

Like a bird in a cage, she continues to sing to appease the people around her. In reward, they compliment her with pretty words and gifts that might appease her.

Yet they always forgot the thick bar steels between them, separating her from everyone, which made everyone think that she's so high and mighty that she separates herself from her peers.

But it's not.

They're the reason as to why the bars exist. She used her music to act as a bar steel, she used the performance she played to thicken the bars. This is performance to appease the crowd, this is self defence from the faith she tangles herself into.

Lost in thought once again, she didn't notice the sudden change of melodies. From soft joy descended to solemn, timid and mysterious, matching up the mood from her mind.

One that her commissioner did not want to hear at their birthday party.

She stopped again. She groaned and stomped her feet to the floor, expecting to hear the loud creak she'll emit from the dark oak wooden floor, only to hear a soft crumple instead. Looking down from it, her (E/c) eyes found papers scattered to the floor, one managed to get under her shoe. She stared at the paper, her (E/c) eyes slowly narrowed as she saw the words written there.

It's one of her drafts from the commission she's trying to make right now.

She slowly knelt down and picked it up, seeing the words more clearly now as drag the paper closer to her (S/c) face. Her face slowly turned from neutral to scrunched up as soon as she saw the words written there. Half of the paper are words full of jumbled words, some got mixed and matched but mostly crossed out while the others have big circles in it. It's your typical draft song sheet.

The only worst part of it is that the choices of words she used are cringe worthy to look at.

She immediately wrapped her hand around the paper to make it form a crumpled paper ball and throw it on the other side of her small room, letting the sound of it bounce from the wall and roll to the wooden floor fill up the tense silence.

The song still lacks life and freedom like she wants.

It's not enough. It's not perfect nor beautiful no matter the flower words and compliments they throw at it.

It's not enough for her to bring back her passion and inspiration from playing her fiddle and write songs about freedom.

From her anger, she decided to play again. The melodies she poured this time came out harsh, loud, full of sharp tunes that resonated anguish and pain. She played not for her commissioners, but for herself this time. She let the suffocating melodies fill up the silence and loneliness she didn't want to be with. She didn't let her fingers stop from gliding to the strings despite the fatigue catching up to her, desperate to finish the song despite having no passion nor courage of making a piece of it. She let the melodies play, full of imperfections and mistakes.

Through this, she felt like she's free, yet no matter what, she cannot escape the path she chose.

It's her choice in the end after all.

A knock on her door made her struck a high pitch key, making that as her ending note to the music. She slowly placed her instrument on the bed next to her and walked straight to the door and opened it.

As soon as she opened the door, her (E/c) eyes met the familiar red ruby eye of one of the people she trusted yet still won't admit that to her face.

"Tsushima-san." [Name] greeted with a quiet voice.

Tsushima huffed "I told you to just call me by my first name."

[Name] rolled her eyes, still in denial to do that.

"Is there something you need? I'm in a middle of something here." She asked instead.

Tsushima pursued her lips "Well, you see...."

One of her eyebrows raised as she watched Tsushima become uncharacteristically quiet to her words. For as long as she remembers her, Tsushima never falters to her words, she's mostly blunt and straight to the point, which is one of the traits she likes about her.

So watching her shift her weight from her feet left and right while hiding her face through her bangs to avoid eye contact, this is a weird change that she can't help but be irritated from it.

"If you have nothing to say, I'm closing the door now-"

"Wait!" She called, making [Name] stop her movements which is closing the door right to her face.

[Name] turn her attention back to her, face still holds an annoyed look which makes Tsushima huffed.

"What a great way to pressure someone-"

"Goodbye-"

"I said wait! Jeez!"

[Name] watch Tsushima dug her black gloved hand to one of her pants pockets, it didn't take her long to pull out her hand there but holding a small folded paper this time.

One of her eyebrows rose when Tsushima brought the folded paper to her.

"It might be best for you to see this while I explain." She simply said and gave her the note.

[Name] eyes narrowed, both from her words and paper, yet still accepted the folded paper. She immediately starts to unfold the paper, slowly revealing itself as a torn up newspaper to a particular article. As soon as she finally finished uncovering it, her (E/c) eyes scan the articles written there.

Her narrowed eyes immediately widden.

"So I was reading the daily newspaper today like what I normally do when I encountered that article. I know you don't care about news and stuff, but I think you really need to know about this, most of all someone looks like they're using your- wait where are you going?!" Tsushima called out to [Name] when she now noticed her walking away from her during her mid explanation.

"To find that bastard!" Is her only explanation before disappearing out of sight, Tsushima followed behind while still calling out to her.

While Tsushima chased after [Name], she accidentally stepped on the paper she brought to her but didn't bother to take it with her, instead, she continued chasing after the girl who'll definitely cause problems on what she read.

Letting the crumpled paper with words written in bold of "A bard who proclaimed himself as the tree-time winner of the Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt until today has been spotted near Angel's Share! Will the current holder of the title who holds that crown for many years even before his proclamation to that title will have a fateful encounter here on Mondstadt? Read to find out more!" on the front page rot on the ground.

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[Name] wonder if these talent she holds is a blessing or a curse.

Yes it's fun composing music or just playing an instrument in general, but she never saw herself being emerge to this deeply that it got to the point it'll become her job.

Yes, it's fun to do those, but she sees this more of a hobby than a potential work material to earn Mora.

She get it, it's a wasted opportunity to not use this to gain Mora, most of all if your family is in a low-class position that society made just to have standards to live on and a reason for others, mostly the higher class, to have a reason as to why they have "privileges" but not on the others below them. It's mess up for someone to make a class position like they're animals on a food chain.

Oh wait, they're animals, in their own dark way.

They act as if Mora is everything. It's what makes your world complete and for the world to continue to spin around. Weird to hear it from someone who's poor right? But really, she didn't care for Mora one bit.

Because like what the mysterious handsome consultant once said on her journey from Liyue "If one must always consider Mora before acting, then in all things one is bound by Mora." She didn't want for her life to revolve to Mora, she rather be free to do what she wants rather than be bound to something that will only give you temporary happiness.

So she's content to what she have right now. As long as the person is content and happy, why ask for more?

Apparently, her parents never got that information seriously.

They see this as an opportunity, a chance to raise their life higher from the dirt until they finally get the taste of the title of "high-class". And to reach that, both must take this seriously, make careful step by step of process and not to rush.

But they also don't took that information seriously.

Instead, they hone their daughter's skill to the best of their abilities. Asking the people they trust who also have a similar talent like hers to train her, make her practice till morning from night, force her to perform on each tavern that exist on seven nation and more.

This continued as she got older. This continued as their relationship to their daughter starts to become distant. This continued until their sweet, shy but kind daughter became a cold, hostile, serious, bastard of a daughter. This continued as her passion and love from her hobby disappeared. This continued as she slowly see her hobby as more of a bothersome work rather than a peaceful relaxation work for her to escape reality.

This continued even as she became aware of something at such a young age.

Aware of how human's greed affect oneself and to the people around her. Aware how greed is a gluttony. Aware how greed all do is take, take, take and never give back.

Aware how greed made her parents like this.

She didn't want to become like her parents. She didn't want to take so much that it'll become an addiction, like a drug.

So she never says no to them. Instead of take, she give, give, give and never take.

Until there's nothing left for her anymore.

Maybe that's why she never felt free.

Because she gave away her freedom in the process.

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Opening the door of the tavern can sometimes cause quite a ruckus, most of all when someone open it fast and dramatic.

Which in this case, just happened right now.

His song got silence along the glide of his fingers from his lyre. One of his eyebrow raised of how that dramatic work made even the idle chatter that he can still hear during his performance got silenced. All attention slowly turned to the entrance of the tavern in which where the disturber of the peace stands.

Her face is stoic, is what he first noticed. She stood straight and proud, like she didn't just disturb a bard's performance which he might say is quite a rude thing to do if you ask him. He watched her (E/c) eyes turn left and right with one eyebrow raised and mouth formed into a cute frown. From the looks of it, she's looking for someone, and whoever they're, it's trouble they gonna get.

The silence didn't last. He can hear the rising yet silent whispers of the patrons, all held curiosity and irritation as to why she's here. He's one of those people. Curiosity danced around his mind and eyes for what happened that lead her here and what the cause of her anger which made her make a dramatic entrance on the tavern.

Their answers didn't took them long to be found when they saw her (E/c) eyes landed to his.

Her eyes widen as soon as their eyes met, but it soon narrowed down into a cold deadly glare that he can't help but shiver from.

Her eyes held so much anger that others can feel even they're far away from her.

If looks could kill, he's probably dead where he stands.

She pointed her finger at him.

"You!" She called for him in a sneer.

Ah, so he's in trouble.

He watched the (H/c) haired woman stomp her way to his, eyes only fixed to his with anger.

He silently gulped as soon as she's standing in front of him.

What did he do this time to get this much hate on someone? Did he do something last night when he's drunk? Surely the traveler with his fairy companion stops him early on if he's going to cause problems on purpose when drunk, being kicked out on Angel's Share is the last thing he wanted to happen now that the Dvalin case is over. He's unaware of what to do in this kind of scenario.

So you can't blame him if he approached this the way he usually does when danger is on his face.

Provoke the person to get more answers.

"Me?!" He dramatically exclaim and point at himself too.

She looked at him with a deadpan stare "No the chair you're sitting on- Of course its you, you idiot!" She hissed.

Venti fake gasp "Now, that is a rude thing to say-"

"Good to know it hurts you as it should be."

Venti pouted. Well, that's really plain rude now.

"Even if you ruined my performance?" He added.

She rolled her eyes "Like you haven't ruined my reputation here on Mondstadt after that stunt of yours." She sneered.

Okay, what did he really do that made her so angry at him.

"Stunt?" He asked with a tilt of his head to the side. "If I remember correctly, the stunt I did so far is getting drunk here."

That and also trying to steal the holy lyre.

"Of course your feigning ignorance." She said with a mocking laugh. "I forgot you're also a bard like me."

He raised an eyebrow. A bard like her?

"Did you have fun using the title 'Most Popular Bard of Mondstadt'?" She asked instead, making his aqua eyes widen from shock. "Does that ring any bells on your pathetic little mind? What? Can't hear it because you're too busy shouting that title like you truly own it for the world to hear?"

His lips straighten. Ah, that.

"Anyway I didn't come here to have a little chit chat party." I came here to tell you to know your place bard." She emphasized on the 'bard' to his face, really emphasizing him the position they are in. "I work hard to reach and wear that title only to hear that there's a wannabe using that title like it's something to be reality taken and played around like a doll. The world is not sunshine and rainbows for you to sing happy songs to make everyone remember your name. If you want to get known, work hard for it."

She turned around. "A word of advice from the true 'Popular Bard of Mondstadt'. Wake up. If you think you can have everything on a silver platter, that's where you're wrong. You'll get nowhere if you keep singing lullabies to yourself to remain asleep forever. That is all."

As soon as she said that, she started walking away from her.

The tavern remains deadly quiet after their talk, only the click of her boots getting fainter from each step are the only sound you can hear. Not even the whisper and the click of the glass that can be mostly heard are not present when its her deadly words its facing.

She radiates independence and perfectionism with a very cold demeanour. A perfect mask for someone to wear when they experienced the worst of the world that continues to pour down to her.

And he can't help but reach out for her to help.

"For a person who holds that title, you sure do not live up to it."

She immediately stopped walking. Her heels along a quick intake of a breath from someone, probably from shock of what they heard from him, are the only noise that escapes before a cold deadly silence consumes them again.

She slowly turned around to face him. Her face looks scarier than the last as soon as their eyes met again.

"Excuse me?" She asks, voice and face so void that others who're on the sidelines shivered from it.

Even he can feel the coldness of her words and stare. He wondered if she had a Cryo vision or something.

"I meant what I said." He nonchalantly said with a caress of his fingers from his lyre, creating a soft melody from his movements.

"For a person who bears the title of being the most popular here, you sure are not great at holding on to it when someone manages to get away from using that, me for example. I manage to use your title without problems. I even got a few Mora out of it." Of course he lied to the last part to get the rise out of her.

"Meaning, everyone also didn't know the true holder of that title because you didn't take care of it. Or maybe..."

He paused for a moment to tap a finger under his chin, for dramatic purpose.

"Everyone didn't see you as the holder of that title...."

The murmurs came back. He can hear their amusement for him and pity for the girl. Through those whispers, he noticed her hand had been formed into a fist.

He dryly swallowed. He can't help but think he's digging his own grave here.

"Fine then." She loudly hissed, cutting through the whispers of the crowd.

"If I have to show a great example for everyone just to get that thick skull of yours. Duel, you versus me with the crowds as our judge. Whoever composes a song and performs it here are the greatest will win. Winner will have that title."

She smirked. "I can't wait to beat that flat ass of yours."

He chuckled, either from her choice of words or her comment about his ass, no one will know.

"Let's see to it then!" Venti announced with a smile that matched hers along the fire determination that slowly started to lit from her dull eyes.

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It's pretty uncharacteristic of her to make that title remain as hers.

It's a selfish act, like she didn't want that to be taken away from her. Who wouldn't? It almost became a medal to her, a medal that shows all of her hard work that she has been through just to be where she is right now.

But doing that is being greedy. She's not greedy, she keeps reminding herself about that so she won't forget.

But she didn't notice the flaw about that.

She's also human.

And humans are very greedy species.

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Hope you like this! This was supposed to be 2 parts only but it starts to get really long so I have to cut it.

Also uploaded this just before new year. Happy New Year everyone! May this year be a good one to us! I'm glad I met and be with you last year. Let's be together again this year too!

(Also, idk if you noticed this or not, but I based [Name]'s, or you (lol), personality to Ennis from the play "Harugaoka Quartet" to the anime/game A3 (Act! Addict! Actors!). That show from the anime/game is what inspired me to make this lol.)

[kimberly-spirits13]

Bat Pranks and Gun Fights (Request)

Pairing: Jason Todd x reader

Synopsis: (Reader is like Deadpool) For a month you had been trying to prank Batman with your best friend Jason. The task was easier said than done but one night, you finally get the chance but halfway through the night, you get interrupted by a more serious matter.

Warnings: Language, mentions of getting shot but not anything graphic at all, also at the end there is some mention of some stronger pain killers that eventually cause the reader to fall asleep really quickly so if that bothers anyone just FYI it’s there

Word Count: 2502

           As an antihero, you did what you saw right. You knew the law, you follow the law... mostly... but besides that, the point of your job is to find loopholes and ways to go about your business technically not breaking the law. Another added to that is that you also go around annoying those who are very precise about following the law as best they can. Take Batman for instance, one of the most terrifying and iconic heroes you knew, lived just outside your base city of New York. That’s where you and Jason worked most of the time if he wasn’t in Gotham anyways. The Batman was someone to be feared, someone to be honored. You on the other hand had heard the stories of what he had done to Jason and thought he was an old grumpy asshole that needed to be taught a lesson.

           So, for the entire month that’s what you tried to do. All you were really doing was prank Batman in a harmless way so that you wouldn’t be thrown off a building but every time you got close, something happened. Now you were suiting up in your apartment ready for another night of crime fighting. Tonight was your night to prank the Batman. You were heading out to Gotham and meeting up with Jason for the bust. After a few minutes, you found yourself hopping onto your motorcycle and heading down the interstate down towards Gotham. __________________________________________

 It seemed like no time had really passed by since you were on the interstate and now riding with Jason to where Bruce would be.

           “So, any other plans tonight other than possibly being thrown off a building by the old man?” Jason asked.

           “No, not really.” You replied on the headset of your helmet, “I’ve been tracking a group of people that are smuggling contraband into the US through the Hudson River. It’s weapons like guns and a shit ton of modified explosives.” “You know, the usual.”

           Jason laughed some before making a sharp turn into an alley. You did the same, stopping behind his bike and putting the kickstand down. The important thing about keeping your bike in some random alley way was making sure no one could steal it. That was what your codes and finger print was for. That thing wasn’t moving but for only yours and one other person’s finger print ID. You hadn’t revealed who that other person was.

           “So, what’s the plan?” He asked.

           “I figure until he catches us, something simple like making his smoke shields go off randomly.” You answered shrugging.          

           “Oh come on, that would be lame.” Jason side eyed you, “The demon could do better.”

           “Not if we did it in front of Gordon.” You smiled, a glint of mischief glazing over your eyes, “I mean just imagine the commissioner giving a rundown of some serious crime happening and suddenly Batman starts smoking from behind.” “The look on his face would be hilarious.”

           “You’re not wrong.” Jason thought about it for a second, “Okay, until we get caught he escalate more and more in what we do. But for now, this sounds like it could be fun.”

           You smiled at the look on Jason’s face. Whenever he took off his helmet, his hair would always swoosh over. You liked how it looked, just not really how it smelled when it got really sweaty. You always made a face when he did and sometimes would spray a flowery perfume that you got as a joke in his hair to improve on the smell. It’s not like he would do anything to you for it but maybe jokingly flip you off.

           The two of you climbed up onto the building where Gordon and Batman typically meet. Lucky for you, tonight was a full moon as you liked to call it since you really couldn’t see the moon that well in Gotham with all of the pollution and possible rain clouds. A full moon here meant that the Bat-signal was up and running. There was something big going on somewhere and Batman had to be notified.

           As you reached the top, you and Jason ducked behind a cover spot on the building closest to where Gordon was waiting.

           “Move over, I’m in the open Hood!” You hissed nudging his side.

           “I can’t move over or I’ll be open too.”

           You huffed and looked at the height of what you were trying to hide behind.

           “Fine then.” In order to solve this dilemma, you laid on top of Jason. You were both facing the same direction, you were just stacked. You laid your chin on his helmet some and smirked down at him. You couldn’t see the look on your face, but judging by his change in position, you could tell he wasn’t expecting that.

           “What the hell are you doing?” He asked.

           “Fixing the issue. Anyways, why are you so tall? My feet hardly touch yours.”

           Jason sighed, “Maybe it’s cause I’m not short like somebody here.”

           “I’m not short!” You demanded, “You’re just a giant Jason.”

__________________________________________

           Time passed and you two were getting tired of the pranks that were being played on the Bat. You were pretty positive he was tired of it too. You weren’t doing anything to get anyone killed, just to cause minor annoyances. It was funny to watch, but now your mind was drifting elsewhere. You wondered what Jason thought when you climbed onto him. It wasn’t like you were doing something to get anything started, you were just curious what he thought of you. You thought that maybe there was a chance that he possibly liked you back.

           Your thoughts would have consumed you longer if you weren’t alerted by your tracker on the smugglers. At the sight of what you were seeing, your eyes widened.            “I’ve gotta go.” You said jumping up from next to Jason.

           “What is it?”

           “The targets have almost reached the docks. If I go now, I can make it and stop them.”

           “Do you even know what you’re walking into?” Jason asked.

           “I have somewhat of an idea.” You lied a tiny bit knowing that there could be more than you originally planned, “I’ll be fine.”

           “You’d better be.” He was quick to say, “Don’t go getting yourself killed tonight. Trust me when I say it isn’t fun.”            “Yes, yes, I’ve got that part.” You rolled your eyes, “Anyways, I’ll call you when I’m done with this party.”

__________________________________________

           Now you were at the docks. It was colder than you’d expected with the breeze coming in and reinforcements were waiting for the cargo load. You would have to strike fast for this to work. The one problem was you didn’t know how that would play out. Dropping from your hiding place, you crept up behind one of the guards on the outer rim of security. With a sword in hand, you took him out.

           “Oops, didn’t see you there buddy.” You smirked some and moved onto the next one. It was an easy job so far. The security was terrible on the rims as you’d imagine and no one was raising any sort of alarm.

           After finishing this part, you climbed back up to see that there were even more heavily armed men aboard the ship than you had ever anticipated.

           “No big deal.” You mumbled, “Just like all the times before. Crack a few jokes, kill a few idiots, and at the end, blow some stuff up. It’s just what you do now a days.”

           Time was ticking and the slot for best entry was getting smaller and smaller. You looked around once more and then dropped to the ground when the shipments were on the docks so that they couldn’t be moved after the boat caught flames from the devices you’d planted around it.

           “Hey boys. I hope you don’t mind but, I saw you were having a moving in party and wanted to drop by and give a house warming gift. Well, then again, I guess catching the boat on fire wasn’t the best gift, but it certainly did the job well.” You smirked taking the approaching ones out and avoiding the flying bullets.

           You only slowed down just a bit when one slightly grazed your arm, “Okay, who did that?” “This was a brand -new suit and I did not want it damaged tonight.” “God, who taught you manners? A fish?”

           It was all running well again. The advisories were being taken out, weapons were being destroyed and... you looked up to see one of the crates of explosives. If you wanted to, you could light that baby up and let it do your job for you. The issue was making it out on time without any other survivors. You didn’t need any lose ends on this mission. There was a moment of pause before someone called out your name.

           “Y/S/H/N, need any help?” You looked behind you to see Jason shooting at some guys.

           “What are you doing here Hood?” You looked almost a little too shocked to see him, you really were a bit too shocked to see him.

           “Got a bad feeling and figured you might need back up at some point. Not saying you’re not capable, just watching out.” He explained loading in another magazine.

           “Yeah, yeah, I get it.” You looked back up at the crate, “Say there is one thing you could do though.”

           “And that is?”

           “Cover me while I go take out whoever is hording that massive crate of explosives.”

           You didn’t give him any time to protest on your actions. It was always unclear to you why he was so protective of you in those regards but no one else. It wasn’t like you were his significant other or something. That is, no matter how much you wanted to be.

           “You had no business coming here tonight.” Some taller man said shooting at you.

           “Neither did you but I guess we both found some.” You retorted firing back as well.

           “If you’re here for information, you won’t ever get it.”

           “Trust me buddy, I have all of the information I need.” “You’re not really a hard group to track.” Rolling your eyes, you shot the man in the arm, making him cry out in pain, “You’ll be fine, trust me.”

           “Not if I detonate these.” He gave you a look like no other you’d really seen before.

           Sometimes you’d meet people that had fairly evil motives. Other times it was just the run of the mill henchmen. But sometimes, like just on these missions, you’d come across a group or one singular person that was so dedicated to a cause or leader, they’d rather die themselves with what they were hiding than give it up. Those people were some of the scariest.

           “Hood get out of here!” You said into the coms.

           “What’s going on up there?”

           “I’m about to try and stop this guy from taking the docks out.” You answered grimly knowing that this wouldn’t end well for either you nor the man in question.

           “What are you crazy?” Jason yelled.

           “maybe.”

           You jumped over the crate to where the man was and shot him down before looking over at the count down. There wasn’t much time before it set off. You quickly started typing codes that you had picked up into the device. It wasn’t until after a few seconds that you noticed how close the time was getting. Sighing, you knew the only thing to do was leave. You turned around, not seeing the last remaining henchmen behind you and was shot in the side. The moment Jason registered what was going on, he shot the man who was now aiming at him and jumped onto the boat to grab you. That was when he noticed the spot on your arm as well as your bleeding side.

           There were less than 10 seconds on the clock. Jason ran as fast as he could when the explosion went off. It sent him stumbling to the ground since he was a decent distance, that stumble didn’t help you though. You were sure you hadn’t been hit anywhere super important, it just hurt, a lot.

           “Come on Y/N/N, stay with me.” He went to your bike which was the only one there since he zeta beamed to New York.

           He was in too much of a rush to remember that your bike needed finger print ID to start going. With you straddling him so he could make sure you didn’t fall off, he cursed under his breath.

           “I know you’re not going to like this, but I need you to get the bike going.” He said to you.

           “You can do it.” You groaned.

           “No, I need your ID fo-“ He stopped when you cut him off.

           “I told you, you can do it.”

           That was when he realized what you meant and started up the bike himself with his own ID. He smiled at the gesture. Maybe you really did trust him enough. Maybe you actually felt the same about him as he did you.

__________________________________________

           High on pain killers you sat on your bathtub ledge getting stitches from Jason while draped over him for support. He was pretty sure you would either start ranting about something extremely random that he might be able to use for blackmail, or you’d start snoring. Either one was fine to him as long as you didn’t stop breathing. That was when there would be issues.

           “Jaybird, you know I really like you right?” You asked making his cheeks heat up.

           “I didn’t know that.” He had to clear his throat.

           “Yeah, I’ve always thought you looked really nice. Then I got to know you and now you’re even better.”

           “Well what if I told you I liked you a lot too?” Jason asked smiling at what you had said.

           You sat up and looked at him quickly, “Really?”

           “Yes, and don’t rip out your stitches. I don’t want to put them back in.”

           “Well if you really liked me, you’d kiss me like what they do in the movies.” You smirked some at Jason.

           “What kind of movies have you been watching recently.” He scrunched up his nose faking a look of disgust.

           “Jason Peter Todd, I mean it.”

           Jason gave your stiches a once over before pulling you into a kiss. You could feel him smiling into the kiss before pulling away.

           “What else do they do in movies?” He asked.

           There was no response.

           “Y/N? ...Doll?” Jason looked down to see you asleep sitting up, whatever Alfred had recommended, it worked because you were out like a light.

           He laughed and carried you into your room, tucking you in. He went to go sleep in the living room but stopped when your hand didn’t let go of his. Jason sighed holding in a chuckle before changing into his own night clothes and climbing in next to you.

I hope you guys liked this one. I know it’s a bit longer but I really liked the request and things just kept coming to mind of what to add to it. I’ve got something big coming for a fic unless I scrap it. It’ll be long and Idk when I’ll finish it, but you’ll know when it gets here. Anyways, I hope you’re all having a wonderful day and week and continue to have a great one. Stay safe and healthy and make sure to take care of yourself when you need it.

[starstruck-thirst]

Razor: Your First Time

Commission (Posted with commissioner’s permission)

Warnings/ tags: NSFW, Sex, Virgin!reader, AFAB, Fem pronouns, wholesome

Word count: 5.6K

______________________

“Wait for someone special.”

“You don’t want to give it to just anyone.”

“Give it to your husband.”

Everyone seemed to have an opinion about your Virgin Card. How the only person you should give up your virginity to was someone that you’d marry or meant the world to you. But really, you just wanted to give it up to anyone that would actually please you. Too often you had heard your friends talk about how their first times were messy, sloppy, and unsatisfying. And you were determined to not have a first time like that.

But you never thought that a former criminal would be the person you would trust with such a task.

Razor was different from anyone else you had ever met. He was so calm, sure of himself, and in charge. Even your virgin mind couldn’t miss how terribly sexy that was. A guy who had nothing to prove and lived in the moment. Lived the way he wanted to every day.

He had drawn you like a moth to a flame. And when you had told him about being a virgin- over drinks and pretending not to be blushing like mad- he merely laughed and acted like it was no big deal.

Maybe that was when you decided: it had to be Razor.

“I want you to fuck me,” you said blatantly, watching the man’s reaction as he lowered his water bottle to look at you directly.

You hadn’t warmed him up on the topic, perhaps because you were so nervous- and it wasn’t like you were versed in such a conversation. But standing on the side of the road, watching Razor finish his daily run had turned some desire on in your head. It was now or never, you decided. If you didn’t just blurt it out, then you’d never have the guts.

“Okay,” he said with a smile. “Come to my room tonight at 8.”

Then he left.

Left you standing in the street as he jogged off to shower like he always did after his run. And nothing more was said about it.

Was that normal? Had you messed up?

As the day wore on, you decided the only thing you had messed up was not tacking on “right now” because all day you were a wreck. What should you wear? How should you behave? Should you shave? How much? Should you have bought cute underwear for this? Or should you have gotten a sexy lingerie set in anticipation?

You hadn’t expected him to say yes like that! There hadn’t been time to prepare in advance when you didn’t even think it was going to happen!

The day was a wash. You saw Razor off and on as he trained, interacted with the other pirates, and waited for a player to come and try him for his cards. But you didn’t try to talk to him directly again, and he didn’t call any attention to it. He just continued to live his life normally. Which drove you more insane.

A shower at minimum was achieved before 8. A simple outfit chosen with some of your nicer underwear. But it felt lacking. Razor knew you were a virgin, but what if he was expecting more effort on your part? After all you had asked him, so wouldn’t it be normal for him to assume more preparation on your part?

These thoughts raced in your head as you stood outside his bedroom door, knuckles turning white from gripping the hem of your skirt as tight as you were. A dress had seemed appropriate. Flirty and cute. Even if it wasn’t your usual, especially since you had gotten to Greed Island.

With a deep breath you released your dress and knocked on the door, the resounding thuds coming much more quietly than you had anticipated. ‘Great, now he’ll know I’m nervous,’ you thought.

The door opened to a smiling Razor. He was wearing a fresh white shirt, black sleep shorts, and had a book in one hand- thumb marking his spot as he leaned on the arm that held it. “Good evening.”

“Good evening,” you responded. Was your face hot? Nothing had even happened yet! “H-how are you?”

Razor chuckled, standing straight again as he took a step back from the door so he could open it fully, dropping the book to the desk by the door casually. “I’m great. Come on in.”

You nodded, and did as he instructed. Inwardly you were trying to build up your own confidence and pretend you had as much calm and self-confidence as he did. The door shut and a lock slid into place with a click. It shouldn’t have made you nervous, obviously he was thinking of your privacy, but it also made your mind race with the knowledge you were locked inside.

Large hands clasped your shoulders, their warmth both alarming and comforting as his thumbs rubbed your shoulder blades. “I only locked it to keep anyone from barging in,” he said in a soft voice, as if he could read your mind. “Come on.”

With a gentle, guiding push through the palms of his hands, he directed you to his bed. You sat automatically, hands in your lap, unsure what to do with them. He sat next to you, his weight on the bed causing it to bow more than your own had. “I-I don’t know what I should do,” you admitted, eyes flicking to his face then back to your hands. The tiny bit of confidence you had tried to muster up on the way in through the door was already gone. You were touching his bed, the place he’d fuck you, and you were completely lost at what you were doing.

“Just tell me when you don’t like what I’m doing,” he said with a quiet voice. You nodded, still unable to look at him. “You’re so cute. Don’t be scared.”

Razor cupped your cheek, turning your gaze to his face. Looking into his calm and confident face made you less nervous. It was so easy to fall into his grip as he brought your lips to his, kissing you with the same force he would have used on someone that he had kissed a million times. Not gentle, like someone who was afraid- like you were- but firm and sure.

Your eyes closed instinctively, letting his warmth wash over you as both of his hands encased your face. Naturally, you opened your mouth so that Razor could flick his tongue over yours. Awkwardly you tried to mimic his movements, momentarily worried you were doing it wrong, but he didn’t stop you or laugh so you kept mimicking him.

Already, you mind was starting to get fuzzy from the feelings. Razor’s presence against your skin, the way the kiss made your insides buzz and flutter, and the way your core was starting to twist up in excitement. All of this was so much more dizzying than you had expected. You had kissed people before, but this was different. This was a kiss with a special anticipation behind it.

He broke away, shifting on the bed and pulling you with him so you were both sitting in the middle of the mattress that was really only made for one. “I’m going to undress you,” he said, waiting for your nod of understanding before he put both of his hands onto your thighs and slid them up.

Razor trailed your sides, the calluses on his hands causing you to shiver as each rough bump of skin felt completely distinct. Instinctively you lifted your arms up, and he guided your dress up and over your head with ease. If you hadn’t been hot before, you were now. Every part of your face and neck felt awkwardly warm. You wondered, what did Razor see? Did he see all the bumps you saw when you looked in the mirror? Was the shape of your body strange and unsatisfying?

But he was smiling still. It had never faltered even a fraction as he looked you over, drinking you in like lemonade on a hot day. “You’re gorgeous,” he praised, putting a hand into your hair to push it back from your face. “Absolutely gorgeous. Lay back for me, pretty thing.”

You listened to the instruction, some of the knots of worry were finally undoing themselves as you got swept up in Razor’s energy. He was so calm that it was hard to not just fall into his pace. “I feel like I’m not doing anything,” you confessed, trying not to cover your chest with your arms. Even if you were still wearing a bra, you felt exposed.

“You’re doing everything,” he replied with a small chuckle. “Trusting me to take care of you is what you have to do tonight. Got it?” You nodded. “Good girl.”

Just the praise was enough to make you squirm, a familiar yet new sensation of lust striking you at his words. Sure, you had felt turned on before, but this was different. This was so directly intentional. Something new wrapping up old feelings in a nice little bundle of excitement. Only, you didn’t know what to do with this new gift that had been thrust at you.

Continuing his slow pace, Razor put his hands back on your sides. He rubbed up and down, feeling your skin move under his rough fingers. It felt nice, comforting. With practiced precision he reached under you and unhooked your bra with a single hand. “I’m going to open you up nice and slow. Like a present.”

He had to lean over you on the bed to do his magic, and in that moment you never felt so small compared to him before. He was a large man, you knew, but now he felt abnormally big. If he noticed your look as you realized this, he didn’t let on.

Instead he kept his focus on his enjoyment of your body, putting his hands on your shoulders, rubbing them gently before sliding his thumbs under each bra strap and dragging them down your arms. You lifted your arms out of the loops without having to be told, but he didn’t take the bra from your chest.

Razor leaned further over you, kissing you once more but this time it was chaste. A single peck on the lips, and then he was traveling down your cheek to your jaw. Down your jaw line to your neck. Down your neck to your chest. Your hands felt so useless, laying next to you with nowhere to go.

His breath teased the tops of your breasts as he kissed the line where your bra met skin. A tiny rolling, tingle ran down your spine at the sensation. “You’re doing so good,” he praised, kissing the line again before using his cheek to slide the bra down just a touch. With each kiss he moved the bra, exposing your one breast to the world. You gripped the bedding in anticipation, knees knocking together between his legs to attempt and contain your growing need.

“Razor,” you breathed which made him stop immediately. “Please go faster.” It was nice, but the anticipation was starting to kill you. You just wanted it to be over so you could stop feeling so awkward. But at the same time, you were enjoying him dragging it out. Warming you up and making you feel so comfortable. Making you feel good.

“Patience, y/n. I told you, I’m going to open you up slowly.”

Your nipple was exposed from the kisses, and Razor finally moved the bra completely off your body, depositing it to the floor with the dress. “I want to enjoy you,” he whispered before licking your nipple with one smooth, slow, motion. The unfamiliarity of it made you shiver and gasp. He chuckled.

“W-What?” you asked, opening your eyes to look at him as he hovered over your chest.

“I’m just enjoying the moment. Aren’t you?” he asked before licking your nipple again, but this time it was quick. Just a flick of the tongue that lifted your breast ever so slightly, making it jiggle as it settled back into place.

You huffed, a bit embarrassed at the lighthearted mood of the room. “Can’t you be serious, please?”

“Why?” he asked, shifting his weight over you. Razor’s face was over yours, one arm supporting him as a hand went to the breast he had already teased. As he spoke, a thumb rolled over the protruding flesh, “There is nothing wrong with having fun with sex.”

Husky sighs came with each roll of his thumb. What he said made sense, but you felt like you were supposed to be serious in this moment. That was what sex /was/. Wasn’t it? “I wouldn’t know,” you responded, sounding the most confident and controlled you had since you knocked on his door.

“No,” he smiled. “But you will.”

Razor kissed you again. This one was crushing, his lips smashed into yours as his tongue worked yours with vigor. On your chest your nipple was no longer merely being rubbed but pinched over and over. Gently overall, but with enough force that you gasped several times into Razor’s open mouth. Below you, your pussy was practically throbbing with need. It was uncomfortable. You pressed your thighs together as much as you could to try and squash the discomfort, but it didn’t help at all.

Sensing your unrest, Razor slid the hand away from your breast and ran it down your body to your underwear. In your mind you were screaming for him to just do away with the panties. For him to stop teasing you and fuck you already.

But true to his word, he slid his fingers over the cloth so he could take his time. A firm finger pressed into the front of your panties and he began rubbing while he continued his kisses. Your body reacted before your mind did. Hands were in Razor’s hair and on the side of his face, while your thighs opened up for him to have as much room as he could need to work your labia through your pesky underwear.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, how long you couldn’t be sure, but you slowly grew accustomed to the way he bit your lip just as he pressed his finger especially hard down onto your clit. Every time you would gasp or groan, legs fighting to stay open so he could keep working though all you wanted to do was clasp your thighs around his hand.

“You ready?” he asked, pulling away from your grip enough to speak.

You nodded, staring into his face like a desperate beggar. You knew without a mirror that your eyes must have looked /pitiful/ because you felt that way. Every part of your sexual being was screaming for this man to have his way with you.

He sat back and put his fingers into the waistband of your panties before you placed your hands over his. “You… you’re not… you still have all of your clothes on,” you mutter out, eyes focusing on his shorts before going back to his face. “It just doesn’t seem fair is all.”

Razor smiled. “You’re so cute when you’re embarrassed like that,” he commented, making you turn your face away in shame. “Now don’t do that. Don’t you want to see the show you’re asking for?”

The sensation of his hands left your hips, and reluctantly you dragged your eyes back to his body to watch. Part of you wanted it to be your hands that gripped the hem of his shirt, bringing it up and exposing his defined chest. At rest, he had just a bit of fat on his stomach, hanging in a natural and pleasing way. But even though he wasn’t mid workout- the time you knew his muscles looked most defined- his chest still looked strong and toned.

Suddenly you hoped that you could withstand whatever he dished out into you.

Not aware of that thought, Razor dropped his shirt to the side of the bed, never taking his gaze off of you. Without a word he hitched his thumbs into the band of his shorts, and you opened your mouth to tell him to stop. But no words came out. Were you going to tell him to wait, you weren’t ready? Or that you wanted to take his shorts off?

He waited a moment, seeing a look of hesitation cross your face. When you didn’t say anything he decided to continue. Your eyes were fixated on his motion, not thinking at all about how obvious you were being as you stared. But Razor didn’t mind at all, perhaps it excited him to be observed so carefully because you saw a slight twitch under the black fabric before his large hands dragged his shorts off.

You didn’t have any personal experience with which to compare Razor to, though you had seen images of dicks. But seeing him in person was nothing like seeing a picture. He was firm, but not yet fully erect. His length seemed average, but his girth was already bigger than any anatomy image you had ever seen. And for a moment you worried he wouldn’t be able to fit inside of you.

“You alright, y/n?” he asked with complete sincerity. Silently you were thankful he wasn’t making fun of your reaction. Due to your lack of response he put a hand on your thigh to get your attention, making you break eye contact with his cock as he leaned forward so your eyes looked back to his face. “We can stop if you want.”

“No!” It came out louder and more shrill than you had meant for it to. All you could think of was how hard it had been to get this far, to say the words to Razor to start with. But he didn’t seem comforted by your response, if anything it bothered him. His lips turned down ever so slightly into a look of concern and you scrambled to sit up. “No. I /want/ to do this. And… and if I don’t go through with it now,” you looked at his chest as your hands rested on your knees, “then I will just think I failed. And I’ll feel too stupid to ever ask you again.”

A soft sigh came from Razor. “Hey,” the familiarity of his firm voice called you to look up at him with a natural, obedient reflex. “You aren’t stupid. Stopping here doesn’t mean you failed. It just means you need more time. We could always do this another day. Okay?”

You nodded and he reached out to run his knuckles along the side of your face. Closing your eyes you leaned into the touch, enjoying this momentary reprieve. But you couldn’t enjoy it too long. Something about him touching you, no matter how tame, after how turned on you had gotten meant that any touch from him reminded your body of how wet it was.

“I want you to keep going,” you responded, opening your eyes of your own will this time. “Please?”

He nodded and you lowered yourself to the bed again, lifting your hips just a little to signify you were ready for him to take your underwear off. Razor happily helped, gripping the soft fabric around your hips and sliding it down. He had to shift to get them fully off of your legs, but when he repositioned himself he made sure he was between your legs and coaxed your knees to his sides. Being able to touch him while you were exposed did help you feel better. As if in this moment you two were connected and doing this together. Before, you had felt like you weren’t really a part of things, but something as simple as this contact brought you back to it.

Maybe that is why he did it, you thought.

“I’m going to warm you up,” Razor said as he ran two fingers down your labia.

You shivered, hands going to the bedding again to keep you feeling grounded. “Did… did you not already do that?” Somehow completely exposed you felt like your questions were less embarrassing. Or perhaps it was just because you had already laid out in the open your most frightened thought. The thought that Razor could view you as a stupid failure.

He nodded, moving his fingers up and down your labia with growing pressure. “You’re definitely wet enough,” he said in a warm way that didn’t make you feel ashamed. “But I have to prepare you for penetration. Even with lubrication you’re too tight. I don’t want to hurt you.”

It made sense, and even though Razor wasn’t waiting for a reaction you nodded that you understood anyway. “Okay,” you muttered, trying to prompt yourself to be more verbal. It was the least you could do, he had been doing so well at being verbal with you.

Razor’s eyes on your pussy didn’t make your nervousness come back. It just made you excited. The expression on his face as he watched his fingers work your sex was incredibly attractive. He was more relaxed than you were used to him being on average, but still pleased. Much like he looked when he had a few beers with you at the bar. But this was so much more personal than that. You had every ounce of his attention. In this moment there was only you for him to look at.

You loved that.

As his finger entered into your body you gasped. All thoughts you had been having were wiped from your mind as that haze from before blinded you again. Your knees squeezed his sides tightly as he dragged the digit in and out of you, thumb just whispering over your clit so as not to over stimulate you too much. You cried his name out as he curled the finger up and down inside of you, and he chuckled.

“I underestimated you,” he said, entering a second finger, spreading them apart as he moved in and out. He was testing how tight your muscles were, but it felt amazing when his fingers spread in and out as he moved.

“Wh-what do you-ah- mean?”

“I thought it would be easy to take my time with you. But it’s getting really difficult,” he admitted. As if to punctuate how he felt, he swirled his fingers inside as his thumb pressed down on your clit just for a second.

A lewd cry burst from your lips and you finally knew what it meant to ‘see stars’. It felt as if the haze in your mind was sparkling.

Below you, Razor had gone still. Waiting out your reaction so that he didn’t push you too hard too fast. But his stillness is what made you stop looking at the ceiling and down your body to his. Where his cock had only been half erect before it was now fully engorged. It hung down from his body, hard and ready. You thought maybe you saw a tiny glistening of precum on the tip, but you couldn’t be sure.

“Razor,” you panted, “am-am I ready yet? I don’t know if I can last too much longer.” You knew what it felt like to orgasm from your own efforts, and that same building feeling in your body was starting to get dangerously high. Actually, it was already higher than you were used to feeling from when you masturbated.

“I want to warm you up more,” he said. But his voice didn’t really match his words. He sounded like he was holding something back, and his tone had gotten noticeably deeper.

You released the comforter to put your hand over the one he was using to keep himself steady on the bed. “It’s okay,” you said, “I’m tough. Let me at least try.”

The look on his face said he wasn’t sure that was a good idea, but his cock twitched just enough for you to notice. “Are you sure?” As he asked, he moved his hand from your pussy to his cock, stroking it once. The action made you really look at his size, notice how thick he was.

But you were still sure. “Yeah. Just… go slow?”

He nodded as he put both hands onto your hips and dragged you down the bed towards him. The rush that you felt from that single action made you giggle a little. It struck you as potentially odd until you remembered his words ‘There is nothing wrong with having fun with sex’, and you decided that maybe he wasn’t lying after all as he positioned himself.

Razor slipped his cock along your wet folds, lubricating himself up in preparation as well as providing you a fresh wave of endorphins. It took effort, but you watched as he moved, the tip of his dick peaking over your body as he moved back and forth. You hummed in pleasure, already loving the feeling of skin against you like this.

Finally, he aligned the head to your body. You could feel the warm tip against your opening and your heart clutched in anticipation. He looked at you, one eyebrow raised. You gripped his hand again, wanting to feel that connection as he entered into you for the first time, and nodded.

It became clear immediately that Razor’s worries of you not being warmed up enough were unfounded. His cock glided in so easily that he accidentally entered into you more than he intended. But even though he fit inside of you, your body still had to stretch to accommodate him. Being filled from his girth so completely made you gasp and moan at the same time, which almost alarmed your partner for a moment before the noise truly settled into his ears.

“Fuck,” you whispered as Razor pulled out completely. Somehow you had managed to watch the entire motion from the first time he entered, to pulling out, and entering into you again. But this time he started to move in and out with more momentum and your head fell back onto the pillow below you. It was too much effort to hold your head up when pleasure constantly thrummed through your body, but you could see his face with your head relaxed.

His attention had to be divided, making sure to watch how you came together and that you didn’t seem to be struggling or in pain. But any time he looked at your face you could see the absolute joy he was having.

With a solid push he slid entirely into you and your thighs clamped down on his sides with their full strength as you gave out a strangled half cry. Sheathed into you fully, Razor could put both hands on your hips and help his pace by bringing you down towards him as he thrust up. Your nails bit down into the tops of his hands unknowingly as you tossed your head back gasping.

He groaned, bringing your hips together with a particularly harsh snap. “Damn,” he mumbled, “you feel amazing around me.”

Outside of this moment you always thought dirty talk was lame and kind of silly. But hearing the words fall from Razor’s mouth so sincerely made your blood warm.

Now you understood the appeal.

“Don’t stop,” you begged, already an unhelpful mess. It occurred to you that you were just letting him use you like a giant sex toy. Your hips lifted into his when the timing was right with the thanks of pure instinct, but otherwise Razor was doing all of the work while you felt overwhelmed with pleasure and feelings you had no words for.

“I didn’t plan on it,” he responded in a half joke, picking up his pace for a few thrusts before slowing again as if to emphasize his point.

“No,” you groaned, “don’t stop talking.”

“Do you like it when I tell you how good you feel, y/n?” Razor’s sex voice was deeper, and throughout you could hear his own noises of enjoyment. Small groans and huffs of his breath. “I’ve never had someone hug my cock like you.”

Your thighs couldn’t clamp down any harder, but you wished they could as you groaned out his name. “I’ll keep talking, if you keep being loud,” he promised from above you.

You had been so lost in your feelings that you missed Razor shift so that he was now fully on top of you, your hands gripped in his as they were pinned to each side of your head. He snapped his hips into you as you refocused on him and not the wall behind his bed.

Razor did as he promised, muttering when he could manage it about how good you felt, how gorgeous you looked below him. And you kept your end of the deal without trying. Each cry and moan was completely unrestricted and natural as the large man worked your pussy to his liking.

So lost in the activity you lost track of active thought, and when Razor slid into you completely and held there for a moment your legs locked around him and you rocked your hips back and forth, urging your own orgasm free with a cry of his name.

Dutifully he remained still, watching you orgasm below him. When you were finally over that peak you rested your hip muscles, feeling used up and exhausted. “I’m close,” he muttered into your hair before pressing kisses to your cheek. “Can I use you a bit more?”

Everything felt so raw and tired out, but you agreed anyway. You knew you could tell him you couldn’t hold out if it became too much.

Expertly, Razor released one of your hands so he could place it on your tailbone and held your pelvis up enough that he could hit a spot that seemed to please him. He couldn’t talk anymore as he chased his own release. Grunts, groans, and breathy calls of your name was all he could manage. The feeling of overstimulation was building, but for the time you still felt pleasure as he moved in and out of you quickly.

The hand against your tailbone pressed painfully hard and you could feel the warmth of his cum inside of you as he released, only a low growling noise coming from his lips. The hand he still clutched was being held so tightly that you almost told him it hurt, but knowing he wouldn’t actually cause you harm you chose to endure it.

Your free hand went to his hair, running your fingers through the sweat damped strands as his muscles trembled through his orgasm. You were glad you had told him to keep going. The feeling of his body going through those sensations had been exciting.

Spent, he pulled out of you and you couldn’t help the tiny groan that came from you at the loss of feeling so filled. Razor smiled at the noise, you could feel it against your cheek where the corner of his lips still pressed to you.

With the ease of moving a pillow, Razor laid onto his side and dragged you into his arms. He put an arm under your head, and you were somewhat surprised at how someone that was so strong and muscly was still so comfortable and soft. You rested your arms between the two of you as he rested his head on top of yours. Never before had you felt so safe and serene.

“Sorry I got a little rough at the end there,” he said, his voice resonating through your head as he spoke.

“It’s okay. It didn’t hurt in a bad way,” you confessed. Now you were glad he couldn’t see your face nor you his. It made it easier to say things like that so simply.

“Not in a bad way huh? I’ll make sure to remember that,” he replied. Idly his hand that was slung over your side slid to your back and started to rub.

“Remember that?” Your question was in half tease, feeling much more like your sparky self now that the initial awkwardness was so completely dead. “You saying you want to do this again?”

The hand on your back pressed you closer to him before resuming its previous action. “I can’t leave you half educated, now can I? What kind of trainer would I be then? Unless you have complaints. Then I guess I could-“

“No,” you cut him off, daring to lift your lips up to collar bone to place a small nip. “I chose you. So you better do this right.”

He laughed now and you smiled.

“Well if I’m going to do this right,” he said before kissing the top of your head, “then I better do it right.” With that he pushed you away, making you frown at the loss of his warmth. “Go pee so you don’t get a UTI.”

“You didn’t have to be so rough about it,” you pouted, sitting up since you could tell he was going to be insistent.

“I thought you said you liked that?” he teased, and you stood up in a huff.

“Keep talking like that and I’m going to change my mind after all.” You got to the bathroom door and turned around to shoot another teasing comment his way but stopped seeing him. The bed was a mess under him, but his body at rest looked so tempting and comfortable. You had to fight the urge to bite your lip when you saw his flaccid cock resting on his thigh. He raised an eyebrow and you turned away from him. “Maybe after next time.”

[popculturebuffet]

Paul Dini’s Jingle Belle: The Mighty Elves (Comissoned by WeirdKev27)

Well well boys, we’re back to Jingle Belle with another kevmission, though per his request i’ll be getting back to Life and Times Of Scrooge McDuck at long last. I also have some other stuff planned and all that, but for now, let’s focus on everyones faviorite elfen hellion as we dive back into Paul Dini’s Jingle Belle. 

I covered most of the behind the scene’s stuff last time so in short in case your just joining us, since this one’s got a bit more stuff to tag: Jingle Belle is an indie comic book character created by animation god Paul Dini, the daughter of Santa Claus and the Queen of Elves who acts like a standard rebellious teenager sterotype and causes trouble for her dad.  Last time I touched on the character a good two days ago, we looked at her first appearance, where she sent her family to Family Therapy. At the time I’d ONLY read that story, and hadn’t gotten that far into Jing’s world just yet. As you probably guessed despite plugging a decent amount of time into re-reading the rest of Scott Pilgrim (shout out to my good friend Mike for the early christmas present), on digital and in color and into the Switch port of the first Fire Emblem, I still got 2/3 of the way through the omnibus Kev gifted me of almost all her stories up to 2018′s The Handmade’s Tale.  Honestly not a lot has changed from the pilot.. while Jing’s designs changed a bit, she’s still more of a rebellious hellion, and while Santa’s no longer a slut shaming jackass, he’s still hard on her while her mom tries to keep the peace, The humor’s still edgy, if toned down enough to support returning whenever Dini felt like it but it’s largely the same for better or worse.  Overall the stories haven’t been bad but have been a bit reptitive to read in one giant omnibus. This really is down to the format they were made in: These were one off stories spread months apart meant to be picked up off the shelf with no real ongoing stories or character development and only some slight worldbuilding here and there. In short not bad stuff, just clearly not built to be collected in a huge omnibus like it was and not the first comic collection i’ve encountered with this problem and definitely not the last. 

That being said the stories are creative and still well put together. It is Paul Dini and he has wrote pretty much every story collected here with few exceptions, so it’s still good stuff, just as I said clearly not meant to be read all in one block like i’ve been doing. And today’s story happens to be one of my faviorites so far, breaking the formula up a bit by having Jing do something a bit diffrent and also involving hockey, a sport this story made me realized might actually intrest me on some level.. if in part due to letterkenny. 

God bless those two handsome idiots. So let’s ice up or skates, get those letterkenny refrences at the ready and see what the Mighty Elves have to offer. 

We start at Hockey Practice for Santa’s Hockey Team, The Elves, the kind of sentence that makes me really happy to type for money. Santa’s team is naturally for this kind of story and what the title references, are the last place in the bi-polar hockey league their in.. presumably ran by commissioner bi-polar bear. 

Again, I really love this job and that i’m actually getting paid for this this go round. Anyway, Santa’s team isn’t all that agressive because.. well i’ts a team coached by Santa, why would they be? But Santa’s still proud of his boys... as for his girl on the otherhand he gets a call and we soon find out via mugshots Jing dragged her two friends, up from just one in previous stories, to an air force base, somehow got arrested for hitting on enlisted men, not a crime, and stealing and crashing a helicopter, very much a crime.  Naturally Santa isn’t pleased, so we cut to a few days later where he’s letting her friends off making robo kitties, damn I want one of those now, while leaving Jing to do the packaging, though like most stern but fair dad’s he admits he dosen’t like punishing her and is right in saying there’s more to do with her summer vacation than you know, piss off the military. Santa needs his flight clerance dammit. Jing complains there isn’t much to do but feed the reindeer and make toys to which I say.. really santa? You haven’t set up anything else for your eleves to do? Making toys is their job. Build a fucking movie theater. And at the very least if not for them than for your bored and rebellious daughter to distract her from doing crimes. She’s still likely got a few hundred years of teenagering left, give her something else to do other than piss you off.  Santa does have a least a little something: Hockey! Which Jing’s cousin Rusty has taken up. Rusty showed up in the first story but I kind of glossed over him, he’s basically Jing’s Dorky cousin she frequently abuses. Not really much more or less to him. Jing isn’t on board mostly because their team always looses, to the other teams: The Penguins, the Polar Bears, The Snow Leopards and the Eskimos because they don’t really have killer instinct, which yeah is kind of necessary for hockey. To her..

But during her rant she does show Santa she’s got genuine talent for the sport, so he makes her a deal: Do a little favor for him, and she’ll swap that for making toys.. it’s a deal.. one she soon regrets but hey. 

Jing naturally makes an ass of herself pretty quickly beating the shit out of Rusty with her dad repremanding her and threatning to throw her off the team if she has another outburst like. That is until she runs into the Huskies Coach, Stan. 

I mean i’ts a hairy old man who makes a side bet with Santa Claus despite it technically being against commission rules, might as well be. So Santa tells Jing screw it, as long as it’s the opposing team violence is a-okay.  And naturally our first target is the world famous hockey player, aka snoopy aka a snoopy stand in. And being a big fan of peanuts i’m a sucker for a good peantus parody. Doubly so since Dini did his homework, and as I’d remembered and a quick google confirmed “The World Famous Hockey Player” was indeed one of snoopy’s many personas.

 Not that it was much of a stretch: just about any time snoopy played a sport he was “the world famous X player”, but still it’s a nice little nod. Not so nice is Jing within seconds slamming him into the air and under a Zamboni and getting sent to the box for it naturally. So clearly she’s the shorsey of this team, all chirps and ultra violence. 

Snoopy is thankfully still alive, if barely, though he’s off course been through much worse.

But while in the Box jing helps advise the team and a presumed combination of her beating the shit out of the other team’s best players and her team now not only having something to inspire them but a strategy means the Elves win for once! Santa and Jing share a hug, though Santa advises her not to go for his wallet, it’s still a sweet moment as she’s genuinely invested now.  So we cut to..

Okay Hank Ribbon seal is genuinely one of the best things humanity has made but as for Quiki I just... wow that joke is mildly racist at worst, confusing and unfunny at best. I mean... it really just makes no sense on any level and that’s with me not knowing a lot about hockey, but knowing just enough to know Kathy Lee Gifford existed. Just.. what even was that? I know Paul can do better than this.. because as my first review outlined he wrote a LOTTTT of Tiny Tune Adventures including my favorite episode. He also wrote most of the best Joker episodes for BTAS, so it’s not like the guy CAN’T be funny.. so I have no idea how he could fail so hard with this. Just.. what is this. Who thought this was funny? what was the joke? 

That.. utter bafflement aside, this newscast is used to push things ahead as the elves are on a winning streak, having also beaten the Polar Bears and the Penguins.. though weirdly we DON’T get a cameo by this guy despite having already had Snoopy show up. 

That’s my boy. But yeah there’s only two teams left with this, the Eskimos and tonight’s matchup the Snow Leopards, aka snow catgirls lead by Tashi Ounce, who Jing met at the winter games last year and lost too and thus has a whole rivlary thing going. In a really nice moment Santa stops to make sure Jing is okay going into the game. 

It’s part of why I REALLY like this story: Santa instead of just being disapointed in his daughter genuinely bonds over her over something and Jing shows she has a softer side to her. It’s some good character stuff, helps shake up the normal formula nicely. Back to the usual though she and Tashi naturally go at it, phrasing, and fight the whole damn time, with Belle eventually scoring the winning goal. Though noticably while Tashi is just as competiive as belle and lost this time.. she’s fine with it, knowing she’ll win next time and congradulating the opponent.  But before she can leave the rink, Tashi is approached by a mysterious figure with an offer and we cut to said figure’s lair... it’s THE BLIZZARD WIZARD! dun dun dun!.... yeah I haven’t introduced him the Blizzard Wizard is.. well exactly what he sounds like, as well as the former ruler of the North Pole. He enslaved everyone there to do his bidding and was essentially, a butt till Santa showed up, united all the various animals and kicked his ass. Since then he’s been reduced to basically a rankin bass villian, lurking near bye and scheming to get petty revenge on Santa for it. So essentially....

Minus the tragic backstory. He offers them a deal: The championship cup for him defeating the elves. As he puts it the cup symbolizes hard work, respect and team work.. i.e the things their throwing out to get payback. Tashi wants none of it, but the blizzard wizard has his slush minons capture her and with the rest willing to sell out, he gets to work. 

Bliz snows out the eskimos, and brings up accusations of Santa gambling, which he gets away from by.. having his wife donate the money real quick don’t ask just go. But he has a waiver signed by the other coaches so their playing his goons. But Jing isn’t phased and Santa asks her to give the lockeroom some inspiring words. 

10/10 no notes. But naturally Bliz has a sneaky trick up his sleeves.. to win.. specifically a hot french canadian player which.. makes jing fall to pieces flirting with him and makes her entirely ineffective. Okay time out.... huh so this is the timeless void known only to zack morris, that girl from the reboot I haven’t watched, and Regis Filbin. But yeah while I wouldn’t expect Jing to slaughter the guy it feels out of character for all she’d do is to giggle like an idiot instead of making a move. She’s been established as forward and knowing what she wants. I’m not against her being distracted by this it’s just the how that feels off especially since the opening reinforces this. She hit on air force guys. She’s not going to just be giggly and awkward. Jing may not be the most complex charcter but she’s better than this. Aside from the baffling Kathy Lee Gifford gag, this is the only thing I really don’t like abotu the story, and it lasts two pages before it’s resolved and in a 22 or so page story, that’s a good chunk of it spent on something that isn’t funny and that’s out of character even within story. That being said it dosen’t drag the story down entirely, still a good story. Just a bit uneven is all. 

But unsurprisingly Tashi escapes her earlier imprisonment offscreen to let Jing know not only the full extent of Bliz Whiz’s machenations, i.e. that the other coaches are in on it, but that the hockey player is really just one of Bliz’s minons uner a glamour. WIth that knowledge Jing asks why she’d help and Tashi shows her inner honor beneath the whole rival deal, pointing out she wants to win from a GOOD team next year. With the jig up Jing pulvirzes her former crush, claims to have been under a spell (no one byes it) and the elves clean house and win. Super fuckin shooter. As for Bliz Whiz he tries to steal the trophy but instead gets booted into the snow leopards box, phrasing... it doesn’t end well for him. 

And yeah while he comes back eventually, some how, apparently, for most of the stories after this he’s just.. dead. He was killed and then his remains eaten. MERRY CHRISTMAS!

But Jing admits she had fun, she and her dad bond and we get one last gag as he assumes she learned not to showboat only for her to block everyone else in the team photo. Falalallal we’re out. 

Final Thoughts: As I said, one of my faviorites. It’s really well paced, has a good premise and only one part drags at all and only that part and one gag really don’t land. The rest of it is really funny, nice and touching, and overall a nice shakeup from these stories usual pattern of “Jing getting into hyjinks”. While she DOES here, her and her dad are literally and figuartvely on the same team, and she does show a sweeter side genuinely bonding with her dad and it’s nice to see them actually enjoy each other’s company for once. It’s a nice change of pace and one I wish more of the stories had. I’m not saying they all have to be holly jolly but i’d be nice if more of them had a bit of heart to them is all. Tis the season and all that. Still for what it is, it’s a fun ride and I highly recommend it. We’ll probably see her again sometime this season but that’s a bit off.  For now coming up I have some ducktales to tell, a chapter in a man’s life story that’s long overdue, a holiday mess I wish I didn’t have to clean up, and in the distant future.. an old friend to reconnect with. Until then if you liked this review reblog it, comment etc all that good stuff, and you can send me asks with suggestions fo ra review or direct message me, or ask for my discord, to comission a review yourself. Until then, happy holidays. 

[jungkookiebus]

Syndicate

A/N: I based this story off of Jimin’s GDA 2019 look because, I mean, look at him. 

I only read it through a couple of times, so sorry if there are any mistakes!

Genre: sort of Mafia!au, Mafia!Jimin, smut, tiny angst-ish for plot

Pairing: Mafia!Jimin x Reader 

Warnings: smut (obvs), PWSP, mentions of death, oral (f receiving)

Word Count: 5.4k

Goosebumps feather across your skin as you felt his hot breath at the nape of your neck.

“Hold still,” he whispered into your ear. A string of pearls appeared in your sight. Dipping your head forward instinctively you sighed as the cool necklace made contact with your décolletage. He placed a small, but hot kiss to the spot under your ear. A new set of goosebumps bloomed down your arms as your body released a small shiver. Looking back up, you made eye contact with the man standing behind you.

Jimin.

The one constant in your life that you could rely on. Did you imagine yourself here five years ago? Most certainly not. You drank in the sight of him in his custom-tailored suit; his blonde hair pushed back from his forehead. Your eyes briefly shifted to the form fitting dress he had picked out for this evening.

“You look beautiful,” he said as he made eye contact with you through the mirror you stood in front of.

Where were you five years ago? Working at a 24-hour diner struggling to pay your bills. You had since dropped out of college when the weight of debt became too much for you. You had been walking home around 3 am after a particularly grueling shift when you became the victim of a run-by mugging. You barely had time to register what had happened when the purse was snatched from your arm and the man ran ahead of you; bumping shoulders with another man about 10 yards in front of you.

“Hey!” you had yelled knowing it wasn’t going to change anything. It was better than just standing there and watching it happen.

The man the mugger had run into turned to look at you. “You just going to let him steal your things?” he had yelled at you before he started into a sprint after the man. You watched in abject horror as he lithely gained on the man, made a single bounded leap to close the distance, and brought the man down to the sidewalk with him. By this time, you were also running in the same direction. You had caught up in time to see your savior straddling the would-be criminal with an extremely clean (and terrifying, mind you) gun to the man’s neck.

He was breathing heavily as he dug the muzzle deeper into his skin, was wrestling your purse from his hands, and speaking through gritted teeth.

“Fucking trash is all you are. Think you can just steal from women walking down the street? Who fucking raised you?”

As soon as he had your purse free from his clutches, he delivered a swift punch to the man’s jaw before lifting himself off him. You watched in shock as he put the gun into the back of his jeans before turning to you.

“I believe this is yours,” he said while handing your purse over.

All you could do was tentatively grab your purse and hold it to your chest as you stared at him open mouthed. He raised an eyebrow at you and blew a stray hair out of his eye before smiling. You’re pretty sure that’s the moment you had first fallen for him.

“Are you okay?” he asked stepping towards you. By this point, your mugger had scrambled to his feet and ran as fast as his feet could possibly carry him.

“Uh…yea, I’m fine. Thank you, for uh, what you did back there,” you were finally able to mumble.

“Not a problem,” he said smiling again. “You have a name or are we just going to stand here awkwardly?”

“I-I’m sorry. It’s _____.”

“Pretty,” he smiled again. There he went again. That damn smile.

“Jimin,” he said extending his hand.

And the rest was history. To shake your shock, he had taken you to (another) 24-hour diner to buy you coffee. You hadn’t connected with someone on such a level in so long. He had laughed and shook his head when you asked where his skills had come from and gave you a sheepish, “Maybe some other time.”

Five years later and here you were married to the most dangerous arms dealer Korea had ever seen. Sure, it had come as a shock to you when you finally found out, but you had still loved him; despite knowing what he had done or would do. It was a dangerous job after all and not all of it was sunshine and rainbows.

Tonight, you were attending a President’s Ball with him. He was an asset to the nation’s government and virtually untouchable. No government is without flaws after all. You had been taken aback at first when Jimin told you how much he sold to the Korean government.

“You don’t really see it, though. They just want their bases covered in case shit ever hits the fan,” he had said.

Of course, he had sold to others as well, but that was neither here nor there.

To you he was just Jimin. You liked to keep it that way and so did he. He lavished you with gifts in the first few months of dating that had you guessing what his true intentions were, but as time wore on you realized how much you meant to him. It meant even more when you accepted him for his job and who he was inside. Six months into the relationship he had moved you out of your studio apartment and into his high-rise penthouse. He had replaced your old car with a much newer, nicer car that you didn’t even want to ask what the price was. Anything you wanted, he got it for you; he never questioned it. He would smile as he slid his credit card across the counter at an expensive clothing store; took you to far off destinations like Hawaii, Rome, and Norway; across tables at restaurants that required a dress code; and simply from the end of the couch in your living room.

On very few occasions were you ever involved in his work and that was only by accident. He hadn’t expected you to be home one day when he walked through the door, blood spattered across his crisp white dress shirt that was still tucked into his black slacks. You had heard him huff as he entered your home, your breath catching in your throat as you took in his current state. He had heard your soft gasp and abruptly looked up with wide eyes.

“Baby?” he whispered. “I didn’t think you’d be home.”

“A-are you o-okay?” you stuttered, tears were threatening to fall. He rushed forward to you quickly ready to take you in his arms before he stopped himself; remembering the state of his dress.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t expect you to be home. Yea, baby, I’m fine. This isn’t my blood.” He physically face-palmed as he realized his slip up. He quickly unbuttoned the shirt, shrugged it off to throw it across the room, so he could gather you up into his arms. His warm hand came to the back of your head as he pressed your face to his bare chest. “I didn’t intend on you to ever see that side of me. When I’m with you that’s not who I am.”

“I know,” you said quietly. You felt his entire body relax at your words. “I’m not mad at you, I just didn’t expect to see that.”

Ever since then, Jimin had gone out of his way to make sure you were not involved with his work as much as possible.

“Are you ready to go?” His question had snapped you out of your daydream. Thinking back on your life before him had set a small frown on your face. “Are you okay?”

“Yes,” you smiled. “I was just thinking about my life before I met you.”

You turned to face him as he made his way back to you. He placed his hands on your hips as he sidled up in front of you.

“Mine was pretty meaningless before I met you,” he said looking down at you.

“Oh, I doubt that. Look at all you have.”

“What’s the point when you’re alone and by yourself? No one ever wanted to be with someone…like me.” He hung his head and his words became quiet at the end. “Sometimes I wonder if you’ll finally get fed up with me and leave.”

You quickly place your hands on his plump cheeks and guide his eyes to yours.

“Park Jimin, I am never going to leave you. Someone will have to kill me first.”

He gave you the eye-disappearing smile you always loved to see before dipping to place a passionate kiss upon your lips. He moaned as his hands moved downward to grab your ass. He pulled away from you and gazed at you with glazed eyes as he brought his lips down to your ear before whispering, “If anyone thinks about hurting you, I will bring hell down upon all of Korea and everyone will know my fucking name before it’s all over.”

Heat flushed through your body and straight to your core. “My knight in shining armor,” you whisper back.

“Let’s go before I get distracted again,” he said grabbing your hand.

The ride to the ball was quiet. Jimin held your hand in his over your thigh, occasionally looking over at you and smiling. This event happened every year. It was held as a sort of meeting/social event that saw the likes of all Korean government, foreign dignitaries, and even the more dangerous people of society; like Jimin.

The doorman bowed low as you entered the ballroom inside of one of Korea’s most expensive, all-inclusive resorts that only the rich and government officials could afford. The ball was in full swing as you took in your surroundings. At this point in your marriage you were no stranger to such gatherings. At first, it had been daunting attending such events, but you quickly adapted with the help of Jimin. You easily conversed with anyone you met and always made a lasting impression. On many occasions, the wives of these government officials sought you out for conversation, ensuring that you were never left to awkwardly follow Jimin wherever he went.

You heard your name being called over the din of noise surrounding you. Scanning the crowd, you quickly saw Yeri waving frantically at you. Yeri is the wife of the commissioner of the National Tax Service and one of the first friends you had made at one of these balls about three years ago.

“I see someone I need to speak to anyway,” Jimin said as he placed a kiss to your cheek. “I’ll catch up with you later.”

You smiled as you gave his hand a squeeze and made your way to Yeri’s table. She was already up and heading towards you as you weaved through a throng of people. She embraced you in a tight hug before pulling back to hold you at arm’s length.

“Ugh! You look stunning as ever! Let me guess, Jimin picked this dress out for you too,” she said looking you up and down.

“Of course he did,” you said while rolling your eyes. “Did you expect anything different?”

She laughed before grabbing your hand and leading you to her table. “Jimin does always have the best taste.”

The evening fell into a comfortable cadence. You were already a couple of hours into a few bottles of champagne and conversation with Yeri before you noticed something was off. The atmosphere had seemed to suddenly shift; almost as if the air had become thick. Tension filled your veins as you were overcome with dread.

“Are you ok-,” you heard Yeri begin to say before the first shot rang out.

Chaos erupted around you. Jimin had prepared you for moments like this. You began to take a mental inventory of all the things he had taught you in case anything like this were to happen.

1.       Take cover as soon as possible. If you are not extremely close to a possible exit, do not try to run.

You quickly took Yeri by the wrist as you pulled her underneath the table with you. The thick, expensive tablecloth that the resort spared no expense for concealed you well enough under the table.

“What the fuck is going on?!” Yeri yelled over the uproar now enveloping the room. More gunshots rang out as people screamed all around you.

2.       Stay quiet. Do not make a sound, especially if you are well hidden.

You clapped your hand over Yeri’s mouth while holding your finger over yours. She stared at you with wide eyes as you tried to keep a brave face.

 3.       Make sure your weapon is on you and loaded.

You took to your hand off Yeri’s mouth to check the handbag you brought with you. Wherever you went, you always had the small handgun Jimin had given you a year into your relationship. He had taken you to the shooting range every weekend for months to have you practice.

“My line of work can get dangerous and I don’t want you caught in the middle of a situation you can’t get out of,” he had said.

Someone hit the ground with a heavy thud beside the table. You watched in horror as a bloody hand fell underneath the hem of the tablecloth next to you. You suppressed a shout of terror as you backed away from it. Yeri was shaking uncontrollably next to you as you strained to listen to anything outside of the screams and chaos. It had felt like an eternity had passed but could not have been more than five minutes when the room started to quiet. You heard quiet sobbing close by, the occasional sound of heels on parquet flooring, and in the very far distance, sirens. You crawled over to Yeri and grabbed her hand.

“I’m going to peek out okay?” you whispered.

Tears started to roll down Yeri’s cheeks. “Please don’t go out there. Don’t look. What if they’re still there?”

You wiped a tear from her cheek before smiling. “Just a peek okay?”

She nodded as she sat back on her heels again, crouched underneath the table as close to the middle as she could get. You slipped off your heels and crawled on all fours to the edge farthest away from the body that had fallen next to you. If your judgement was right, you should have a good view of the open dance floor area that also gave you access to the exit door. Slowly, you flattened yourself to the floor as much as you could before lifting the tablecloth up. You stopped your intake of breath as you peered underneath. Bodies littered the floor, some people were still alive but barely holding on, others were clinging to loved ones, but there were no signs of attackers. The exit doors were thrown wide open and there was no one in the hallway or near them from what you could see. Getting back up you turned to Yeri.

“We are going to crawl through the tables and to the exit doors okay?”

Yeri began to nod her head frantically as the tears came more freely. “What if they’re still there?”

“Yeri, I don’t see anyone. Whoever did this wanted to be out of here as fast as possible. If they were taking hostages, they would have announced themselves.”

She seemed unsure, but Yeri trusted you. “Okay,” she whispered.

“Put your cell phone on silent and take my hand,” you said as you made your way to the side of the table that would lead you to the rest of the dining area. “Don’t look at the bodies. We need to get out of here as fast as possible.”

You also knew better than to try to call Jimin and him you. Any ringing of a cell phone could give your position away to hidden attackers. There was a surprising amount of people laid out on the floor. You heard a small whimper behind you as Yeri followed you.

“Don’t look, Yeri,” you whispered.

By the time you made it to the exit doors you heard the sirens of cop cars pulling up to the entrance doors of the resort. One look in the hallway ensured you the attackers were gone. A handful of people laid bloodied in the hallway, but now was not the time to check on others. You grabbed Yeri’s hand as you stood from your crouch and bolted to the lobby as cops began to pour into the building. You handed Yeri off to a nearby paramedic as you ran outside.

“Ma’am are you in need of medical assistance?” you heard someone say next to you.

You stared off into the crowd of people that were forming around the hotel as you finally tried to figure out where Jimin could be. Panic started to creep in as you thought of Jimin possibly dead on the floor of the ballroom.

4.       Once out of danger, go home.

“Ma’am?” A very concerned EMT stood next to you holding out his hand.

You shook your head as you came back to your senses and looked at him.

“N-no. I’m fine,” you said as you lifted your dress and walked away. The walk home would only take about fifteen minutes, but with the panic you were in, it only took you about ten. You didn’t even notice the stray rock here and there as you rushed down the sidewalk without shoes. Sideways glances were thrown your way at your current state of messy hair, expensive dress, and no shoes. You tried to hold back tears as the reality of what had just happened threatened to break you down. The doorman to your building looked at you in shock as he opened the door for you to rush through. You couldn’t press the button to the elevator fast enough, nor did it move fast enough. When you reached your floor, you stumbled as you tried to press in your keycode with shaking hands. As soon as the lock clicked, you threw the door open to your dark apartment.

“Jimin!?” you yelled as your ran through the house flipping on every light in the process.

The apartment was the same as when you had left it hours earlier, which meant that he wasn’t here. He was back at the hotel. Hot tears streamed down your cheeks as you finally collapsed in the middle of your living room. The weight of what had happened came crashing down with force of a tidal wave as sobs wracked your body. You had left Jimin at the hotel. Why didn’t you stay? What if he were hurt? Could you have helped him? These thoughts plagued your mind as you sank into the floor, drawing your knees into your chest.

“What did I do?” you sobbed.

In that moment the front door burst open with enough force to knock a framed picture off the wall in the hallway.

“_____?!” you heard Jimin yell from the entryway. Not believing you heard him, you held your breath.

You heard frantic footsteps enter the kitchen, bedroom, and then finally the living room.

A choked sob escaped his chest when he finally saw you curled up on the floor.

“Baby,” he cried while gathering you up into his arms.

You were still in shock. None of this was real. It wasn’t happening.

“Baby talk to me,” he said as he pushed the hair back from your face.

“I thought I lost you,” you whispered.

Tears began spilling from Jimin’s eyes in earnest as he pulled you back into his chest. “Oh my fucking god I didn’t know what to do when I couldn’t find you.”

He placed both hands on the sides of your face before he started raining kisses all over you.

“God I was so fucking worried you had been killed back there. I looked for you everywhere in that fucking ballroom. Fuck!”

“You sure do say fuck a lot,” you murmured through pursed lips as he squished your cheeks in his hands.

A single, choked laughed escaped him as he sniffed, then he smiled. There was that smile you loved. The smile you were 100% sure you weren’t going to see again ten minutes ago.

“I’m never letting you out of my sight again,” he said as he placed his lips against yours. The kiss was small, filled with love, and everything Jimin wanted to say but couldn’t.

“I love you,” he said before deepening the kiss. You barely had time to catch your breath before his hands were all over you. The heat of the moment and his sheer panic at almost losing you threw him into a lusty haze he was unable to come back from. Before you realized what was happening, he picked you up bridal style and carried you to your bedroom. He placed you on the bed as reverently as a curator places a priceless item in a display case. His fingertips grazed down your neck, over the pearls he had put on you earlier that evening, and to the valley of your breasts. Goosebumps followed his touch and your breath caught in your throat.

“So beautiful,” he said as he brought his lips down to the base of your neck. “And all mine. From this moment forward I’m going to do whatever it takes to protect you.” You shuddered at the love you felt in his touch. You felt good; you felt protected.

His hand found the zipper that started under your arm and ended at your hip. He slowly undid it and let one of his fingers glide over your skin as he did so. Now you were breathing heavily with anticipation.

He pulled the dress from your body as you lifted yourself to aid his process. The strapless style of the dress did not allow you to wear a bra, so you laid bare besides the lace panties you wore.

“Now I remember why I picked this one out,” he said as he laid his hand flat against your belly and pushed it up between your breasts and to your throat. He tightened his hand on your pressure points and brought his face to yours so that he could look in your eyes. “And now I’m going to show you why you’re mine.”

All you could do was gulp as you felt a rush of arousal flow through your body. The adrenaline from earlier was bringing every feeling you have to new levels.

When he let up on the pressure on your neck you whispered, “I want you to ruin me.”

“Gladly,” he smirked.

This time he brought his mouth down to one of your breasts as his hand found its way to your clothed core. You arched into his mouth as he sucked the hard bud between his teeth causing a strangled moan to escape your throat. His hand made quick work over your panties, rubbing them over where you needed him the most; the subtle friction causing you to become wetter by the second.

He lifted off your breast with an audible pop. “I want to hear you, baby. Don’t hold back.”

With that he placed a harsh slap to your center. You cried out as the pain crossed over into pleasure.

“What do you want, baby?” he said while rubbing small circles on you again. “You’re so wet, I bet you’re suffering.”

“I want to feel your mouth on me,” you breathed out as your head sank farther back into the plush comforter.

Ever since you had first seen Jimin, those full lips had been one of your favorite features on him and the first time he took you to bed had cemented why you loved them so much. The man knew how to use every one of his assets.

He moved downward as he slipped his fingers into the waistband of your panties and slowly slid them down your thighs. Every touch and sensation were heightened as he tortuously kissed his way up your legs, placing wet kisses to the inside of your thighs while pushing your legs open.

“If anything had happened to you and I never got to do this again I would surely die,” he said while placing more kisses dangerously close to where you wanted him.

“Don’t say things like that,” you breathed out.

A surprised cry came out of you that quickly turned into a moan as Jimin’s lips latched around your clit, sparing you no time to prepare for him. He shook his head as he buried his face further into your core, eliciting more moans out of you. He hummed against you as you fisted both of your hands into his hair. The vibrations causing you to arch off the bed and bury his face into you more. Shock ran through you as you felt him slip two fingers inside of you.

“Fuck, Jimin.”

You were dangerously close to coming soon. Your emotions were haywire, and your veins felt like they had been ignited with fire.

He pulled away momentarily to look up at you. Through your hazed gaze you looked down to see his mouth and chin covered in your arousal. “Keep pulling my hair like that, baby,” he said before diving back in between your legs.

“I’m going to come,” you said as your grip tightened in his hair; pulling the strands further between your fingers to tug at him.

He hummed against you as he started pumping his fingers faster.

You felt as if you’d suffocate him between your grip on his head with your hands and the fact that your thighs were now encasing him in a deadly vice, but the feeling he was giving you now was bringing you to new heights of euphoria. He was eating you out like a man starved, or a man that thought he lost the love of his life. Before you knew it, your whole body was shaking with the force of the orgasm he had just delivered with his mouth. He slipped his fingers from you as he continued to kiss around your now soaking center before kissing his way back up to your lips. You moaned into his mouth as you tasted yourself on his lips, wrapping your arms around his neck as you deepened the kiss. When he finally broke away from you, you moaned at the sight of his fucked-out expression and you hadn’t even been able to touch him yet. He was still in his suit from the evening and it brought on a new wave arousal as you reached for the lapels of his jacket when you sat up.

“You can fuck me in this suit any day,” you said as you slipped the jacket off his shoulders.

“You can’t say those things, baby,” he laughed lightly.

You noticed his painful hard on through his tight black pants. “Maybe you shouldn’t wear clothes like this then.”

“I could say the same about you,” he choked out as your ran your hand over him in his pants.

“You pick out my clothes,” you said as you undid his belt.

“Touché.”

You slipped his pants and underwear down at once, too impatient to draw this out. He was painfully hard as his cock sprang free. The tip was red and leaking with precum already.

“Take this off,” you said tugging at the hem of his dress shirt.

He began unbuttoning it as you spread the precum on his length and started pumping him in your hand.

“F-fuck,” he groaned out as he let his shirt fall to the floor beside him.

“How do you want to fuck me?” you said as you looked up at him through your eyelashes.

“You’re going to kill me.”

You continued to pump him in your hand as you maintained eye contact.

“Ass to me.”

You quickly obeyed as you turned your ass in his direction, supporting your weight on your forearms. Jimin quickly grabbed you by your hair and pulled you up flush against his chest. His right hand came around to rub your already sensitive clit.

“Jimin,” you moaned.

“What is it?” he asked breathily against the side of your neck. “Can’t take it?”

“Fuck.”

“Now who has a dirty mouth?”

You hardly noticed when his hand left you and he guided his cock between your folds. He entered slowly and with purpose; almost as if he wanted to memorize every part of this moment. His lips grazing the skin on the back of your neck had you praising the god you didn’t believe in as your cunt took him in and you felt his heavy cock brush against your walls until he was fully seated inside of you.

“You’re so perfect for me,” he said as he kissed his way down your shoulder, still maintaining his grip on your hair.

He started to pump himself in and out of you slowly, drawing the most delicious moans he had ever heard from you. He pulled out of you almost fully before slamming back into you without preamble.

“Now I want to hear you fucking scream,” he said before letting you go and letting you drop to the bed.

He started fucking into you without abandon. You had never felt so many sensations in your life. He could go from sweet to domineering in the snap of your fingers. He was now pounding into you so hard that you were having trouble staying upright. He leaned his body over yours, placing both hands beside your head as your body finally gave way and collapsed onto the bed. You were now trying to hold on to anything that would give you purchase, but it was fruitless. Jimin was fucking you into next week. You could feel the sweat that dripped off him and onto your back. In an instant he was gone, but before you could ask what was happening, he had you flipped onto your back with both knees pressed to your chest. He was back inside of you, slipping in easily. He held the back of your thighs as he looked down to where his cock was disappearing inside of you.

“So. Fucking. Beautiful,” he said between three separate harsh thrusts. There was anger in the way he fucked you. No, not anger at you, anger with himself for letting you go the moment you stepped foot into that ballroom; pure, unadulterated anger at whoever had the audacity to enter that building, armed, while you were inside.

You began to feel your mounting orgasm again as he angled himself to hit your g-spot with every thrust.

“Going to come with just my cock, baby?”

Your eyes rolled back into your head and he slowed but deepened the thrusts; his hips never leaving contact with yours.

“Come on my cock. I want to feel you tighten around me.”

A few more precisely placed thrusts sent you tumbling over the edge of your second orgasm.

“That’s it,” he breathed out as he fucked you through your orgasm. “So fucking good for me.”

You felt him reaching his end as his thrusts became a bit more erratic than before. He was soon releasing inside of you with a moan coming deep from within his chest.

He slipped out of you and fell on the bed beside you immediately wrapping an arm around you.

A few minutes of silence passed between you when he finally spoke.

“Don’t ever leave me again.”

“I didn’t leave you.”

“You know what I mean.”

And you did. The evening was terrifying for both of you. Each of you had thought they had lost the other until you were reunited on your living room floor.

“Babe?” he whispered after a long while. You had thought he had fallen asleep.

“Yes?”

“The rules. Thank you for following them. I knew you were brave.”

“In your line of business, I always listened to what you told me. You saved my life, Jimin.”

You turned your head to look him in his eyes. Love, adoration, fear, admiration, and a mix of other emotions is what you found there.

“I’m sorry I put you in this position.”

“Don’t be. I’m here with you and beside you for the rest of my life.”

“I’ll keep you safe. I promise.” A heartbeat passed before he spoke up again. “I’m going to find out who did this. I’m going to find out who did this and I’m going to make them regret that they ever stepped foot in that room.”

“How do you know it was targeted at you?”

“I don’t, but you were there, and I don’t take lightly when people threaten what’s mine.”

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[awake-not-today]

NamKook The Gifted Hands / Psychometry AU:

Detective Kim Namjoon is investigating the case of a child disappearance. When the child’s body is found, Namjoon finds himself trailing a murderer.

During his investigation he remembers a run in he’d had with a graffiti artist one night, and the artwork he’d done depicting the scene in which the child’s body was found.

The graffiti which had been painted a month before the discovery of the child’s body.

Jeon Jungkook is a small time graffiti artist with a secret, the power to see the memories of any living thing he touches. He hides himself away from the world, ashamed of who he is, that is until he’s thrown head first into a murder investigation and becomes the prime suspect.

 Part two of ?

<<<<

Fic starts under the cut

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Four weeks.

It had been four of the longest weeks of Kim Namjoon’s life, and nothing. The girl had disappeared without a trace. No CCTV. No evidence. No witnesses. Not a single person knew where this little girl had gone. Not one god damn person even remembered seeing her that day. All he knew was that she walked out of her preschool onto the playground and she vanished into thin air.

The frequent calls from her mother were painful. The wailing and screaming as she broke down again and again when Namjoon explained that he had nothing. It was like being stuck in his own personal Groundhog Day, reliving her agony over and over. He didn’t understand it. How could someone just disappear? Especially someone so young. And why did Namjoon feel like he was the only person that cared?

Day and night he’d pounded the pavement, knocking on doors, handing out flyers, searching high and low. He must have interviewed the entire neighbourhood at least three times, asking the same questions only to receive the same answers. It was frustrating, upsetting. Someone had to know something. Four year old girls don’t just run away from home.

The possibility of her going to a family member or family friend was off the cards too. As Namjoon investigated further he’d discovered that the woman and her daughter didn’t have anyone else. The woman would drop her daughter at preschool, go to work, pick her daughter up at the end of the day from the playground, and take her along to her next job. They had no other family, and their neighbours barely knew them past a greeting. It made the investigation all the more difficult, leaving Namjoon with no leads at all.

Even Hoseok had tried to help, hanging fliers on lampposts, handing them out from his food truck. But nothing. Not one single measly shred of evidence could be found. It was beyond frustrating. But Namjoon wouldn’t give up. Not yet. Not when he knew that someone somewhere had to know something, not when this little girl was out there alone.

Flopping back in his seat, Namjoon looked at the clock. 9:15pm. He groaned, pushing his hair back from his forehead, and readying the footage he’d gotten from nearby stores to be played again, when he heard a quiet voice behind him.

“Namjoon hyung?”

“Hmm?” Namjoon turned, finding one of the junior detectives standing behind him with a mug of coffee. He held it out, allowing Namjoon to take it from him with a smile. “Thanks, Taehyung.”

“Can I help?” Taehyung offered, stepping a little closer. Namjoon eyed him warily, watching as the young man gestured to the open case file, and waited for the punchline. Nobody wanted to help Namjoon. Nobody wanted to work with him. The precinct joke, that’s all he was to these people. He’d been begging for help for weeks. Namjoon looked up at Taehyung again and nodded a little, pushing out a chair for him to take a seat. “I’ve been following your case. It doesn’t seem right that there wasn’t more men put on this.”

“Yeah, well. Commissioner decided missing kids don’t matter as much as publicity apparently.” Taehyung flinched a little at the bitterness in Namjoon’s tone, causing Namjoon to smile weakly in apology. Seokjin had tried to free up some other men, even just one person. The commissioner wouldn’t have it, insisting everyone work on the drugs case. “Sorry. I guess I’m just exhausted. Everyone has been working on the bust case, and I’ve been running this one by myself.”

“When was the last time you went home, Joon?” The question caught him off guard and Namjoon thought for a moment, sipping the coffee he’d been given. He furrowed his brow, laughing a little. “When was the last time you had a real night’s sleep?”

“I’m not sure? Maybe five days ago? Going home I mean. I can’t remember the last time I slept.” Taehyung frowned, concerned.

“Go home, hyung.” Taehyung’s voice was gentle, his hand reaching out to take the mug from Namjoon’s grasp. “I’ll watch the tapes again, okay? You need to sleep.”

“I’m fine, Taehyung.”

“Go home, or I’ll call chief Seokjin.” Namjoon wasn’t sure, worrying his lip as he looked over the file spread out over his desk. Taehyung rolled his eyes and stood, pulling Namjoon to his feet unsteadily. “I’ll call you if I find anything, alright? You need to look at everything again with fresh eyes.”

“Okay.” Namjoon sighed, rubbing his eyes with his thumb and forefinger. Taehyung was right, of course. Namjoon wouldn’t be any use at all if he made himself sick. He tugged on his tie, loosening it up, and grabbed his jacket from the back of his chair. “I’ll go grab a couple hours sleep and freshen up. Everything I have is there. If you find anything, anything, you call me immediately. Got it?”

“I’ll call. Go on home.” Taehyung waved him off with a smile, settling back in his seat and setting the first video to play. Namjoon watched him for a second and turned, heading out to get some rest.

Hoseok was out when Namjoon slouched into the apartment, tossing his jacket onto the counter as he kicked off his shoes. Taking off his tie and shirt, he wandered through to his bedroom and collapsed onto his bed, out for the count almost as soon as his head hit the pillow.

Someone pummelling their fist on his apartment door awoke him some hours later, breaking him from a nightmare that had left him in a cool sweat. He turned, glancing at the clock on his bedside, realizing he’d been asleep almost ten hours. The incessant banging continued, and from somewhere in the apartment Namjoon heard Hoseok grumbling, house slippers shuffling against the hardwood floors.

“Namjoon, hyung!” A voice called out hurriedly a few seconds later, Hoseok protesting at the volume. Namjoon gathered himself and got up, rubbing his eyes and scratching his head as he made his way to the front door. “Namjoon!”

“Taehyung?” The young detective looked frantic as Namjoon approached him, Hoseok stepping back out of the way. “What are you doing here? I thought I said call me if-“

“I tried calling, hyung! I’ve been calling for the past hour!” Taehyung was only getting louder, making both Namjoon and Hoseok flinch. Taehyung took a breath, closing his eyes. “Someone reported that they found a body, hyung. They found a little girl.”

Namjoon had never moved so fast in his life, grabbing his jacket to throw on over his undershirt. He knew how he looked, dishevelled, exhausted, but he couldn’t find it in himself to care. He grabbed his shoes, darting out the door in just his socks with Taehyung hot on his heels. “Did you bring a car?”

“Yeah.” Taehyung gripped his sleeve as the left the apartment block, dragging Namjoon to where he’d parked a borrowed police cruiser.

“Where?” Namjoon asked, pulling on his shoes as Taehyung drove them to the crime scene. Taehyung didn’t want to answer, knowing how fucking devastated Namjoon would be. He’d spent every day there, searching and asking questions. “Taehyung, where is she?”

“The playground.” Tae’s voice was barely above a whisper, almost as if Namjoon would shatter if he spoke any louder. “Some high school kids were hanging out last night, drinking and smoking. You know how it is. One of them went to take a piss and he found her body.”

“The playground?” Namjoon nodded then, sitting back and bring his hand up to his mouth to chew his thumbnail. The playground. The one she’d disappeared from. She’d been right under his nose all along. Or right under his feet. It made him nauseous.

There was already an enormous crowd around the crime scene tape as Namjoon jumped out of the car. He pushed through, yelling to the uniformed officers to try to disperse them, or at the very least hold them back. He jumped over the tape and stumbled forward, each step falling heavier than the last as he approached the other detectives circled around what he could only assume was the body.

“You’re late, Namjoon.” Namjoon turned his head, only just managing to stop himself from groaning in annoyance as his eyes fell on that oh so familiar, and down right irritating smirk. Namjoon ignored him, crouching down and reaching out for the sheet covering the girl. He knew exactly what that comment meant. He was too late to save the girl.

“Sir, you can’t do that.” One of the forensics officers told him as they stopped his hand. Namjoon shook his head, removing the fingers of the officer from his arm, and reaching out again.

“I’m the detective in charge of this case.”

Swallowing hard, Namjoon lifted the sheet with shaking fingers, revealing the tiny feet and legs of the young victim. He could have cried, tears threatening to fall down his face as he looked at just how small she was, but he shook himself. Professional, Namjoon. Keep it professional. He moved his gaze to her ankle, looking for a tell tale mark.

“Does your daughter have any identifying marks? A birthmark maybe?”

“She has a burn on her right ankle.”

There it was. The ugly scarring on her tiny ankle, unique to her only from a long forgotten accident. This was her. This was the girl who’d consumed his every waking hour for the past four weeks. This was the girl he’d been searching for. A whole month of hope, of sleepless nights and internal praying, had led to this. A whole month of knocking on doors and asking a million questions, walking the streets with a photograph, had led to the worst possible outcome. Here she was.

Dead.

Namjoon lowered the sheet again, his stomach sinking as he did. How was he going to tell her mother? How was he supposed to explain that her daughter wasn’t coming home? Namjoon had told her that she’d be fine, that he’d find her baby and bring her home. He’d lied to her, and now he had to crush her with the weight of the knowledge that her baby girl was gone.

Or maybe he wouldn’t have to tell her at all.

A shriek rang out around them, one of absolute torment and devastation. It seemed to silence everything, and everyone. The only sound being the sobs and screams of a heartbroken woman. Namjoon knew that voice all too well, he’d heard those wails of agony every single day for the past month. It was fucking harrowing. He got to his feet, stepping away as uniformed officers held the woman back, until she collapsed into the sand of the playground and wept loudly, desperately. It was too much for Namjoon, and he turned to find Taehyung watching him carefully.

“Come on, hyung. They’ve got it covered here.” Taehyung placed a hand on Namjoon’s shoulder, squeezing reassuringly. “I’ll take you back to the station.“

Tag list: @yoongi-bearr @triheartedhero @doriadoo

[donaldkharris20-blog]

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[almasolaar]

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[blooblooded]

Creeper’s gonna creep

Quick thoughts about Lee during the last few weeks of high school story and a few people who hate him (AJ Marty and Smiles....and Yancey) He rapidly fluctuates between “I’m a good person” to “I’m amoral” up until after he gets caught and experimented on and becomes a depressed amoral nihilist. Anyways this is like PG-13 because of how Lee and Kip almost start a sexual realtionship, if Smiles hadn’t saved the day. Ugh Lee is the worst character but he is interesting

###

        Lee waited for the social worker to leave the nurse’s office, then let himself in. It was easy for him to gain access to anywhere he pleased. People wanted to be nice to him. All he had to do was smile at the front desk girl and she let him roam the usually inaccessible infirmary building.

        He could do whatever he wanted to without consequences.

        As usual, he had dressed for the occasion. He wore khakis with the cuffs folded up to show off his argyle socks, and a smart blazer with elbow patches. It had taken him a while to pomade his hair and beard that morning, because he was worried he was starting to look too shaggy. He wanted to look clean and intellectual. Especially if he was going to make somebody feel bad about himself.

        “Look, I said I ain’t talking to you and I don’t need to be in here,” the person in the tiny examining room snapped.

        Lee casually leaned against the door so that he looked cool. “Hey, AJ.” He smiled his crooked smile.

        Ajax Gutierrez about jumped out of his skin. He stared at Lee with wide, shocked eyes. He had a sweater on and Lee thought about what his body looked like underneath of it. AJ had always been attractive to him, but their relationship had never reached the physical stage. “What the fuck?” said AJ, confused. “How did you get in here? Get out of here, man, I kinda got something going on right now.”

        “Something important?”

        “I already told you that I’m not interested in seeing you anymore, you make me fucking uncomfortable.” AJ looked very vulnerable and small sitting there in a metal chair in the corner, even though he was physically stronger than Lee was. The way his broad shoulders were hunched revealed that he was in pain. “If you’re stalking me you need to cut it out, I have too much on my plate without whatever it is you’re doing.”

        Ouch. Lee crossed his arms. He stopped leaning against the door and arranged his face so that it looked earnest. “You’re 22, right?”

        Instead of answering, AJ was typing a message on his communicator.

        Lee continued. “So why are you in here? Aren’t you 4 years past the point of them caring? Or is this what they do when they’re gathering evidence for a case? I admit I don’t know too much about social work stuff, even though I was in foster care for a couple years.”

        AJ froze. He turned his defenseless brown eyes upon Lee. With his hair falling out of its ponytail, and that expression, he seemed weak. The cogs were clearly turning in his mind, he wordlessly opened his mouth.

        “I hope you cooperate with them,” Lee told him.

        “You called social services on us,” said AJ, still frozen. He shook his head like he could not believe it. “You did it. What is wrong with you. Why? Why would you do that? Do you even understand what’s gonna happen? I fucking told you how my mom’s boyfriend is when I started dating you, you saw how Rome was when you met him that one time, oh my god!” It was so interesting that he was not angry. Maybe he was too shocked. Lee liked it better that way. The helplessness. “Why would you do that??”

        “Because I’m a good person and I was worried,” Lee lied blithely.

         He had really made a report to social services as a step in his attempt to completely isolate Marty by taking away all his little friends. Social services would never remove a Prospas child from their wealthy father, but their involvement would make life much worse for Rome. Rome being punished or grounded would take him away from Marty. Lee had already succeeded in permanently separating Marty from the Bellamy twins. All he had to do with that was hit one of them in the face so that Esther banned them from associating with anyone even remotely close to him.

        The older teenagers Kip was friends with were less likely to take Marty seriously than the younger ones. Soon it would be easy to drive them away from him as well.

        Once Marty was out of the picture, all of Kip’s doubts would not have a voice. It would become easy to control him again. Not that it wasn’t also fun to systematically take people away from Marty and cause problems while he could only watch helplessly.

        AJ kept shaking his head. “Oh my god,” he said again. He still was not angry. Everything had drained out of him. “Are you serious? Rome is in class right now and that social worker is gonna take him away from his routine, force him to take his clothes off so she can make sure he isn’t hurt, and ask him all those fucking questions? He’s going to freak out. And Valentine? He has no idea about how his dad is, he loves his dad! You’ve fucked it up. You’ve fucked everything up. This wasn’t your place.”

        Ever since his parents had died, Lee surrounded himself with people who were vulnerable. He had always assumed that it was because he wanted to help people and believed that he related to them. The last year had him wondering if it wasn’t also because he enjoyed having a sense of control.

        He wanted AJ to feel weak.

        Lee faked a concerned look. He really couldn’t care less about the wellbeing of a family that made their fortune off of exploiting the proletariat. It was just fun to pretend. Sometimes he didn’t know why he did the things that he did. “You’re mad at me for doing the right thing and trying to help. Rome needed help. Every time I saw him he was more flinchy and anxious, I knew what was going on. The other day I made him roll up his sleeves and he had all these marks. I had to do something.”

        Silence fell over the two of them. AJ’s eyebrows furrowed. “When were you ever with Rome when he wasn’t with me?”

        It was at that moment that Lee realized that he had fucked up. Usually he didn’t fuck up, or when he did, people were too stupid to realize that he had.

        The flush that spread across AJ’s face was ugly. His temper was flaring. He unhunched his shoulders, wincing as he did so, and clenched his fists. That vulnerable look in his eyes had disappeared, replaced by suspicion and judgement. “What do you mean you /made/ him roll up his sleeves?”

        Judgement was what Lee really couldn’t stand. He hated it when people doubted his intentions. Even if they were bad intentions. It was exactly why Marty irritated him so badly. He stopped smiling.

        And he focused his psychic energy on AJ.

##

        That afternoon, once he was sure that the Police Commissioner wouldn’t be there, Lee headed over to the Nguyens apartment so that he could see Kip. They lived fairly close to his apartment; both were in the same working class Residential District in the lower levels. It took him only 15 minutes to walk over, which he did, because he did not have much spare money to use on riding the metro.

        He really needed money.

        But soon the people’s revolution would come and change everything and he would be a part of it. Not long now. He thought about that instead of the constant fear of being broke.

        When Lee got to the apartment, he was interested to find that only Kip and Ayda were there. Kip’s little sister had chosen to hang out with Esther Bellamy instead, and Esther was having nothing to do with Kip anymore until he stopped associating with Lee. And Casey was up to something of her own as well. The only reason Ayda was there at all was probably because she wanted Kip to ask her to the upcoming senior prom. One by one, the friend group was getting weaker. Soon his plans to isolate and control would be finished.

        But wherever Ayda was, Marty was as well. They were playing a video game together, Ayda on the living room couch and Marty’s sweaty unpleasant face in a lower corner of the TV screen. When Lee walked into the apartment, he looked up from his controller and scowled.

        “Hey Lee!” Kip shouted, even though he had opened the door and was a foot away. He looked bad, like he hadn’t been sleeping or taking care of himself. He could not shut up or stop moving. A month ago, Lee had finally convinced him to stop taking his medication-- all of it. He’d been surprised that the kid had been taking so much; mood stabilizers and tranquilizers. Lee assumed this meant that he was bipolar, but he couldn’t get the actual diagnosis out of him. He’d hoped that it would make Kip more vulnerable and start to chip away at his impulse control while driving away his friends, and he was correct. Kip was one step away from having a manic episode, it wouldn’t take much to push him over the edge.

        Lee smiled at Kip. So eager to please. He lifted up a 6-pack of beer. “I come bearing gifts,” he said. Kip laughed obnoxiously.

        “Hey Lee,” said shallow, pretty Ayda. She did not look up from her game. Despite her closeness to Marty, Lee never needed to worry about her giving him trouble. She caved in too easily to peer pressure and was easily swayed by bourgeois frivolity.

        “Oh, I’m trying to write a paper about dialectical materialism for PoliSci, can you help me edit it when I’m done?” Kip’s earnest belief in the immortal science of Marxism was cute. He was a complete idealist though. He didn’t have the guts for what actually had to be done to change things in Eden. “Mr. Breitt keeps saying I’m gonna fail the class, I don’t know why, I’ve turned everything in on time and studied and all that shit.”

        Slyly, Lee watched Marty’s face out of the corner of his eye. Marty was looking right at him like he always did. It was making him fall behind in his video game.

        Just like Kip, Marty was also starting to fall apart. Lee was making him as paranoid as hell and he was doing it on purpose.

        “Sure,” Lee told him. “Can we just chill and have something to eat first? What time does your mom come home?”

        “11, maybe later. We can cook a pizza!”

        That gave him 6 hours. He was always very careful. Kip’s mother still did not know about him and he wanted to keep it that way.

        Lee walked to the couch while Kip scrambled to the kitchen so that he could begin the process of burning a frozen pizza. He sat down next to Ayda and pretended to pay attention to the game she was playing. Marty, the horrible little teenager, would not stop insolently staring at him.

        Marty was supposedly from the Northern Territories, which sounded very backwards to Lee. Maybe everyone from up there was like Marty and that was why the trade embargo had been going on for close to 200 years. Marty was the rudest person Lee had ever met in his life.

        He kept calling him a creep, which didn’t so much hurt his feelings as it did make him want to defend himself. Since he knew he wasn’t a creep or a pervert. Hanging around a bunch of teenagers just looked bad to an outsider. Someone smart and goal oriented like Yancey would understand how it was.

        “I win again,” said Ayda, and the part of the screen that wasn’t Marty’s face turned a celebratory pink. She put her controller in her lap. “You totally suck. Why do you suck so bad?”

        “Good for you,” said Lee. Videogames confused him. He didn’t need to distract himself from reality with escapist fantasies. Also he was bad at them. He handed Ayda a beer and she took it.

        On the screen, Marty’s expression turned sour and his hair fluffed up. He picked up his communicator and typed something on it. A second later, Ayda’s pinged beside her to alert her that she received a message. The kid really thought he was being sneaky, trying to tell his friend something without Lee realizing it. Lee smiled at him.

        Bringing alcohol around served several purposes. Firstly, it made all the underage teenagers think he was cool. Secondly, it ensured that Ayda and Casey would never accidentally tell their psychotic murderous father about him, since they would not want to own up to having been drinking. Thirdly, it made Marty freak out which made him less reputable.

        When she read Marty’s message, Ayda rolled her big beautiful cow-eyes. She messaged him back. Marty read it and his mouth got really tiny.

        If the two of them started to have a completely silent conversation/fight while he was right there, he would actually start to get irritated. He decided to go on the offensive.

        “What’s your buddy Rome up to, Marty?” he asked innocently.

        Marty’s mouth got even tinier. It was just a small line in his chubby face. He didn’t answer. Playing the quiet game. He kept messaging Ayda.

        It was boring if he couldn’t provoke him. Lee hated being bored almost as much as he hated being judged.

        The air started to smell like smoke. Kip cursed enthusiastically in the kitchen, having already destroyed the pizza. It looked like they were all going to starve, but Lee was used to skipping meals. He took a thoughtful sip of his beer.

        One of Marty’s messages made Ayda look at Lee sideways. For half a second he felt heavy, despondent. Whatever the two of them were talking about so secretly was not good.

        Kip stomped over to the couch. He made so much noise when he walked. “Fuck, I set the oven too high, I set it to 450 instead of 350 and it all burned up,” he jabbered. When he sat he let himself fall heavily onto the cushions and immediately he started to jitter one of his legs. Lee gritted his teeth. “But one time Kassidy almost set the whole apartment on fire so I think we’re good. What’s up, what are you guys doing?”

        Sometimes Lee just wanted to make him shut up for 5 seconds. He cared about Kip and needed him, but the kid was annoying. The best way to make Kip be quiet was to make him nervous. Instead of saying anything, Lee simply took another sip from his bottle, then handed it to him, cool as anything. For a second, Kip hesitated (he was always scared to drink even beer; god knew why) but grabbed it anyway.

        Kip was half in love with him, half wanted to be him. It was how 18 year old boys were. It was how he had been, when he was that age.

        Pretty soon Lee would tell him that he wanted to sleep with him. Once their relationship went from one of mentorship to a sexual one, it would be all over for Kip. There would be no more doubts or distractions, and he’d be willing to help Lee with what he needed to do, no questions asked. He wasn’t attracted to Kip, but sex was sex, and at the very least it would be enthusiastic. In the end, it was just a mechanism of control, even if it was pleasurable.

        Now Marty was shaking his head as he messaged Ayda. His hair bounced. Lee was very tired of this. He needed to stir things up. He needed to make Marty feel helpless, angry, and isolated.

        Casually, he put one of his hands on Kip’s knee.

        For a second, Kip froze. He looked away from the beer he was pretending to drink, his breath catching in his throat. It was funny that he acted like he was so tough, with his yelling and his fighting, but on the inside he was vulnerable, loving,  and sensitive. He gazed ardently at his mentor, so full of love but also that fucking doubt and nervousness. The doubt was the killer. He smiled a little bit like he was not completely sure what was going on.

        Lee smiled back at him as tenderly as he could and used all his self control not to glance back at the screen, where he knew that Marty would be glaring at him, absolutely seething with rage and powerlessness.

        “Do you want to come back to my apartment?” he asked quietly, but just loud enough so that Marty could hear him.

        “Oh. Uh…” Kip was turning red and smiling awkwardly. He was so awkward.

        “Kip!” Marty snapped. Lee chanced a peek at him. Marty had also gone red and he was showing his teeth. For some reason, Ayda was not all over what was going on. She looked worried and contemplative. What did Marty possibly have on him that could make a stupid and shallow girl like Ayda act weird? “Can I talk to you?”

        “Yes,” said Kip. It was like he didn’t even hear Marty. “Yeah. Yeah, of course.”

        Suddenly the square on the TV where Marty’s face had been went black. He had turned off his webcam rather than continue to involve himself in the situation. It was unfathomable how angry he must be. Marty had never just turned himself off. Eventually, people get tired of being helpless. Everyone has a point where they can no longer hurt themselves by trying and failing to help.

        Did Marty have a breaking point? What would it take for him to just ghost the whole situation and stop  involving himself?

        Lee hoped that it would still be some time yet. He still wanted to keep trying to hurt him as badly as he could.

###

        Kip began to blink as if he were disoriented and his buggy eyes were unfocused. He kept kneeling on the floor in front of Lee on the couch, but he put one of his hands on his face.

        “Are you still OK with this?” Lee asked him again.

        “I’m just dizzy,” said Kip. He continued to blink. “I really want to do this.”

        Despite everything, Lee didn’t want to make Kip feel too uncomfortable or pressure him. He had no desire to hurt or humiliate him like he did with other people, since he genuinely found Kip to be likable, if not slightly annoying. But it had also been a long day that had aroused some strange feelings in him. He sort of just wanted to get a blowjob and go to town on Kip and then sleep for about 10 hours. “It’s fine to be nervous your first time with another guy. We’ll go slow. Just tell me if you’re not OK with anything.” He was already unbuckling his belt and unzipping his pants. “I’ll tell you what to do.”

        Kip nodded limply, uncharacteristically withdrawn. His face became glazed over, the way it did when he wasn’t paying attention. That happened more and more often now. Since he wasn’t making a move, Lee took one of his hands and guided it to his crotch to start things off.

        After about a minute of this, Kip snatched his hand away and scrambled backwards and up. His face was no longer unfocused, it was intense, angry, scared. The way that he held his body was now harsh and defensive. He hopped another step back and then glanced sharply around the room as if he was confused as to how he got there. “Oh, what the fuck?” he exclaimed. He was smiling with all of his teeth. “No, no, absolutely not!”

        “What’s wrong?” Lee asked him, uncomfortable because he had half a boner.

        Kip’s eyes bugged out of his head. “What’s wrong?!” he said. “How about don’t touch me, you fuckin’ predator! Jesus christ, oh my God.” He clutched the hand that had been touching Lee to his chest.

        He was not acting like himself. He wasn’t even talking like himself. Lee felt very confused, and a little hurt that Kip was suddenly acting as if he was some kind of bad person. They had already had a conversation about safety and boundaries, couldn’t he remember? “OK, I don’t know what’s going on right now.”

        But Kip was not listening to him. He looked at the bottle of lubricant and the condoms on the table beside the couch. His face started twitching, then he took a threatening little step towards Lee. “Were you gonna have sex with me?” he asked in a frigid whisper that was unlike anything that had ever come out of Kip’s mouth. Usually he kept his teeth hidden, but now they were all on display.

        “Kip, we talked about this,” said Lee. “You told me you wanted to. It’s OK if you’re scared and want to change your mind.”

        There was another threatening little step. “I’m 18 years old and mentally ill, it’s not really fuckin’ fair to say we talked about this,” Kip said lethally. He shook his head and then hit his own forehead with an open palm. He hit it again. “I thought I was safe. I thought I was safe for five years. But here’s some creepy guy with a beard who lured me to his apartment to fuck me. What’s your deal, huh? What’s your name, your name is--is Lee Harlan right?”

        Suddenly Lee remembered how he had convinced Kip to start taking his meds. Was he having some kind of psychotic break from reality? Unfortunately Lee didn’t know too much about psychology. What was that word, triggering? Had he done something to scare Kip so badly that he had triggered him into getting angry and losing his memories?

        Whatever the case was, Lee was intelligent enough to understand that he needed to be very careful with what he said and how he moved. He awkwardly zipped up his pants and tried to appear placating. “Yes,” he said gently. “You know me, Kip.”

        That made Kip sneer. He grabbed his backpack from where he had dumped it on the floor, then started to slowly back towards the door. “Yeah, OK, Lee Harlan,” he said. “Whatever. Stay the fuck away from me. Don’t touch me, don’t talk to me, I never want to fucking see you again. Just leave me alone.”

        He left and slammed the door behind him. In his haste to get away from Lee, he had left his communication device behind.

        The only thing Lee could do was sit there and try to process what the fuck had just happened. He was more curious than he was scared; it was impossible for him to be afraid of someone like Kip, even if he had just suddenly acted like a different person and threatened him. No matter what, that vulnerability would still be underneath it all. What made a person act like that? Would Kip stay like that forever, or was it like a mood swing?

        Lee realized that he was breathing hard. He wanted to get up off the couch, but whatever had just happened had shocked him. He needed to rest. He needed to think. Was he excited? Was this excitement?

        His own communication device sat on the table. He picked it up, and after a moment’s thought, he began to type in Kip’s strange symptoms.

###

        It was 2am and after everything that had happened that day, Lee could not sleep. He was on the couch still, feeling exhilarated after educating himself for several hours about trauma and dissociation. Definitely onto something. Soon he’d invite Kip over again, to see if he couldn’t replicate the results.

        But he was bored and in the mood to cause a problem. He’d done a great deal of that already in the last 24 hours. He’d bullied AJ, he’d forced Marty to feel fear about his friends, he’d accidentally stressed Kip out. Lee sighed and tried to get more comfortable. His couch was old and lumpy.

        On the floor, he noticed Kip’s forgotten communication device. Lee picked it up and turned it on. He began to smile to himself and went to the contacts list.

        Only one name on it interested him.

        Marty picked up the video-call on the first ring. Had he been waiting up for Kip? When he saw Lee had called him instead, he became shocked and angry, spitting something in his nasally language that had to be a swear. Since Lee had never seen Marty this close, he noticed that the kid had dark purple circles under his eyes but apart from that his skin was clear. Strange for a teenager who seemed so greasy.

        “I’m hanging up in 15 seconds,” said Marty. “This is Kip’s comm, why do you have it?”

        “Good observation,” Lee answered dryly. He squinted to try and get a better look at Marty’s bedroom but because he was not wearing his glasses, the small details were unrecognizable. The only reason he did not get his glasses off the table and put them on was not wanting to look stupid in front of a stupid teenager. “Hi.”

        “10 seconds,” snapped Marty. “Give it back to Kip right now.”

        “Why are you so aggressive towards me?” Lee asked jokingly. He believed he knew the answer. “If you lived in Eden, I think you would like me. Everyone else seems to.”

        “I’m gonna call Kip’s mom if I don’t see Kip right now.”

        Again, Lee’s feelings were hurt. He was not a bad person. He was tired of Marty thinking that he was a bad person. Didn’t he know what he was willing to sacrifice to make Eden a better place for people who were suffering and exploited? If Yancey’s plan went off without a hitch-- something which required Kip’s help-- then nobody would be suffering or exploited again. All he wanted was for Eden to be a place where everyone could live without struggle. How could Marty possibly understand that?

        “Will you relax?” Lee kept his voice light and jokey even though he wanted to snap. “Kip forgot his comm, he went back home after we watched a movie here where you couldn’t butt in and act rude. I didn’t murder him, or whatever irrational thing you think I’m capable of.”

        He had never noticed how when Marty looked at someone he did not make direct eye contact. He looked at the space of air right beside their head. “It’s very normal for you to be calling me on Kip’s comm in the middle of the night,” Marty said nastily.

        “I just wanted to talk to you alone. Maybe clear some things up.” He wanted to know what was going to push Marty all the way over the edge.

        Marty’s mouth got really tiny again. It was strange that he was wearing the same clothes that he had earlier in the afternoon and that he had not readied himself for bed. “There’s nothing to clear up,” he said. “I’m hanging up now.”

        “Why don’t you like me? I’ve never done anything to you.”

        “That would be a lot different if I lived in Eden.”

        It was time to put on his sincere, wounded intellectual face. Lee wished he was wearing his glasses since they made him look more genuine. Without them, his face had a natural sly, untrustworthy look to it. It was one of the reasons he had grown a beard. “You really think I would hurt a little kid like you?” He meant that as a slight since Marty seemed to think he was so smart and grown up. “I’m not that kind of person.”

        “I know for a fact what kind of person you are. Two weeks ago you hit Eddie Bellamy and broke his nose, because I think you wanted Esther to stop being friends with Kip. And last night you called social services on Rome’s dad, not because you cared about Rome, but because you wanted to hurt him and put him in danger.”

        The kid was smart. Just not smart enough to see the big picture.

        Lee raised his eyebrows. He kept himself from smiling. “Those are some serious allegations,” he said. “I’m a pacifist, I’m against all violence and aggression and I definitely don’t hurt children. The problem is that you make all these big claims but you don’t have any proof.”

        Something flashed across Marty’s face. He was radiant with mean confidence. “Proof like your expunged juvenile records?”

        Adrenaline pumped through Lee’s body so fast that it was like being shocked. His muscles tensed, his heart pounded. His face was probably red even though it had been years since the last time he had blushed All of a sudden he couldn’t blink and his eyes went dry. It was impossible for Marty to know about that. Those files were not public. They were sealed on some government server and not even available on background checks.

        Triumph was strange on the horrible teenager. He actually smiled. He put his face a little closer to the webcam. “That’s what I thought. I bet Kip would believe me if I told him how you put Isabel Wong into a coma for 3 days when you were 17.”

        The sound of his foster sister’s teeth breaking when he started clubbing her with a candlestick was a small pleasure that Lee would never forget. That was the day that he had decided that he couldn’t let himself be bullied or pushed around any longer by people who thought they were better than him just because they had been born a certain way. He did not regret what he did, he only regretted that he had been punished for it.

        “I did my research,” Marty continued. “Your parents were extremists who killed themselves when you were 12 and you went into foster care. You were incarcerated for two years for assault and battery. Every article you’ve ever published is about how violence is necessary. I’m sure I could find more. That’s only the stuff on public servers.”

        Blood was pulsing in Lee’s skull. He could not process this. He had known Marty was dangerous to him, but he had always thought it was because he could blow his cover. He had not known that he was this smart, that he was this willing to dig into his background.

        How much farther was he willing to dig?

        “Aren’t you clever,” he said at last to the tiny screen. He couldn’t think of anything more clever to say.

        “Whatever you say, creep,” said the increasingly self-righteous Marty. “I’m going to get you.”

        “Not if I get you first,” Lee replied.

        And he turned off the communicator. He did not want to see Marty’s face any more. He did not want him to have the last word, to have something that he could hold over him. The first thing he did was erase the call history. If he saw Kip again, it would be no good if it looked like he had been calling Marty. It would be..creepy.

        Lee lay back down on his couch. He stared at the ceiling. So much to think about. So much to do.

###

        Yancey was completely dead behind the eyes, even if the rest of his face was not. When he looked at Lee, his eyes looked like those of a man looking down at a bug with a microscope. It was mid afternoon and he was not happy about being distracted from his graduate studies, even if his face was friendly and cheerful.

        What was the point of studying for grad school if they were just going to bomb the shit out of everything in a few weeks anyway? Lee did not understand Yancey and didn’t think he ever would.

        “It really sounds like you’re distracted to me,” Yancey told him. He was in a library. Lee had tracked him down because it had been weeks since they had spoken, and he was getting nervous. Yancey was never nervous. He was always friendly, enthusiastic, and....beneath that, very cold. He dressed in shitty unfashionable clothing but was somehow still charismatic. “You make things so difficult for yourself. All you have to do is get that cop’s kid’s multi-pass and you have less than 2 weeks to do it.  Why are you stressing yourself out for no reason?”

        “I’m not stressed out,” Lee insisted. “I’m worried this kid is going to out me and blow our cover. I don’t know how to get rid of him, it’s not easy since he’s not from Eden.”

        He knew that Marty had gotten into his expunged files. But he knew the little bastard had found the assault and battery charges from when he was 17 and beat the hell out of his foster sister. And he knew he had gotten into his Youth Detention Center records and was sending them to people. How did Marty, a backwards kid from a backwards Colony, know how to hack? Everything that had to do with the C4 and the bomb schematics were carefully hidden on Lee’s personal computer because if a hacker got hold of them, it would be all over.  It was such a blatant invasion of privacy! Lee had never fully digitally invaded Marty’s personal life. Now he was going to have to.

        He intended on finding every hurtful scrap of information he could and then using it.

        For some reason Marty had not yet messaged Kip’s mom. If he did, he would betray Kip’s trust forever and lose that friendship. But it was only a matter of time before Marty escalated things by involving other adults, now that he knew what Lee was capable of.

        “You’re talking about being worried about a 14 year old who lives hundreds of miles away.” Yancey said it like a statement. One corner of his mouth twisted. Whenever Yancey smiled at Lee these days, it was like he was laughing at him. He was not nice the way he used to be.

        “You haven’t experienced what I have. I think I have a good reason to be worried about him. He’s trying to ruin everything.”

        Yancey always knew exactly where to shove the knife in and twist. There was a black hole inside of him. He leaned back a little, so confident in his goofy unattractive clothing. The other corner of his mouth twisted up. “That’s fucking weird, buddy,” he said sincerely. Then he snickered.

        Lee felt like he had been punched.

        His terrible and wonderful mentor continued. “You know that, right? You know that you’re bringing negative attention onto yourself eventually if you’re so weirdly fixated on and bothered by some random teenager? Like I’m sure you’re smart enough to understand that it’s a bit creepy. It looks bad. Focus on what you have to do instead. I can’t have you distracted by this when I need you. Get the multi-pass so you can get down into the school’s reactor. That’s all you need to do.” And Yancey returned his attention to his tablet, scrolling through it like he hadn’t said anything at all.

But Lee knew that he could not allow himself to listen to this advice.