Archerdietrich - Spookay The Skeleton - Tumblr Blog

My sister lamenting her hair that I've cut, thinking of ways to get back at me without our parents finding out

I wish there was more Kuroko no Basuke

3 seasons, blooper reels and a movie isn’t enough to feed my love for this banger of an anime

Yandere Batfam (and their fellow villains/rivals) Headcanons

Bruce Wayne

- He is one paranoid fucker. As soon as he feels any sort of attraction to you, he’s researching you the fuck up. Your background, your history, who you’ve been in contact with for the past decade. Everything there is to know, he will know. It can’t be helped. The last couple of women he’s been with were violent and morally ambiguous. Hell, we all saw what happened with Talia. He doesn’t want to let his guard down. It’s a dangerous world for a man like him to fall in love so desperately that all he wants to do is carve out his own heart and give it to you. 

- He is highly manipulative and obsessive. Obsessive, in the sense that he will be stalking you 24/7. He wants to know absolutely everything there is to know about you: your favourite hobbies, the food you like, that one drink you keep ordering from that cafe down your workplace/university. And he’s manipulative in the sense that once you’re his or once he’s embedded himself into your life, he will be using as many psychological tools and tactics to get you falling in love with him. Pavlov’s theory of classical conditioning is one of his favourites. Just like Pavlov managed to get a dog to associate food with the sound of a bell ringing, he’ll have you associating himself with anything you adore. 

- On that note, he is insanely protective, too. He knows just how bad this world is and will do whatever it takes to keep you safe. And he’s paranoid that something might take you out of this world. He’s been through enough deaths in the family that not feeling any sort of desire to lock you up and hide you from this rotten world would be abnormal. Of course, he doesn’t, because he respects you as a human and wants your willing consent. By locking you up, he’s no better than those villains and crooks he beats up every night. But the thought is there. It always is. 

Dick Grayson

- Constantly tries to impress you. Very dramatic when it comes to interacting you or uh, as Damian puts it, “courting” you. Can dial it up from 10 to 306 in a matter of seconds. 

- Has a constant need for attention. Can and will chat your ear off. He likes being your everything all the time. If your attention so much as leaves him for more than 5 seconds, he is not going to be happy. Focus on him and only him. If it’s for work related reasons, fiiine, he’ll accept it (begrudgingly) but if it’s because some asshole butted in and stole your attention, yeah it’s not going to work. He’ll take it as a competition and keep stealing back your attention, doing stupid and crazy shit in order to get you focusing on him alone. He’ll either do some insane acrobatic move or he’ll act like a total baby, huffing and puffing until you get annoyed and turn back to him. Good attention, bad attention. It doesn’t matter as long as it’s attention.

- Like all the batfam members, he’s hecking obsessive. They all want to know everything about you but compared to the others, Dick isn’t that bad. It’s still really bad but Bruce and Tim can take it to a whole ‘nother level that even the devil himself would be morbidly impressed and disgusted. He wants to know everything about you and will be tracking your location 24/7, the messages you send, the links you copy into google, everything. 

- Is quite the charmer. There are a few of the batfam who take a more productive and active approach into seducing you into their lives and Dick is one of the main ones. He plans, of course, once he realises he wants you in his life - Bruce would be ashamed if he didn’t, and he’d never hear the end of it from his brothers (especially Tim) who’d be judging him considerably for not planning anything - but he’s quick to slide on in into your life. He likes to go with the flow a lot so he’ll sort out a ‘meeting’ scenario but other than that, whatever goes, goes. He’s a quick-thinker and can act without the need for a well-thought out plan (unlike Tim). 

Jason Todd

- Jason’s been replaced all his life. After his death, he was replaced not once, but twice. He’s got some sort of paranoia when it comes to his darling. He fears that he might be replaced because he’s “not good enough”. Dick’s the nice, compassionate one. The golden boy. Tim’s the smart one and Damian’s the biological son. So what’s he? The defective Robin? The broken one? He doesn’t constantly try to prove himself worthy of your attention because he, as the great Klaus Hargeeves once said, “has this self esteem issue where he hates himself but still thinks he’s better than everyone else”, but it’d be nice if you notice things about him. 

Keep reading

The Cosmic Horror of Gotham City

CHAPTER TWENTY / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: Flirtatious Jason makes a return.

Word Count: 7,752.

Jason recoiled when another hand caged his. Wide-eyed, he caught sight of your fingers as they closed around his, soft and with an unusual warmth. His gaze jumped to your face.

“S’okay, Jason,” you said, still half-asleep. He had to wonder if he imagined it altogether. He swallowed, throat dry. “C’mere,” you murmured again, hand tightening over his. You tried to pull him to you, but he resisted.

“Huh?” he whispered, truly thinking he must’ve fallen asleep or finally given into insanity.

You sighed. “Come. Here,” you repeated, stern but quiet. You tugged on his arm till he moved, and then you placed his palm on your cheek. You held it there securely.

Your eyes blinked open, blurry and unseeing in the darkness. “D’you have a nightmare?” you asked.

He shook his head, but he was certain it was half-hidden amongst the pillows. “Jus’ couldn’t sleep,” he said, voice hoarse.

You let out a cute, “Hmm,” as your eyes closed again. Your hand fell from his.

Feeling a little braver, he allowed his thumb to graze your cheek, drawing nonsensical, languid patterns. He relaxed when you smiled into his hand. Your head tilted into it.

“Feels nice,” you mumbled sleepily.

His breath hitched, but he didn’t stop. “Yeah?”

“Mhm.”

One of your hands came up to his chest and balled into the fabric of his shirt. It made the fingers he ghosted down your neck falter. With a disgruntled noise, you pushed his hand to your scalp.

He took that to mean keep going. Jason let the strands of your hair curl around his fingers as he explored, urged on by curiosity. You didn’t seem opposed—really, you snuggled closer the longer he did it.

Your eyes fluttered beneath the lids. His hand dropped to stroke the fragile skin; guiding your path back to the realm of the unconscious. “Go back to sleep, pretty thing,” he placated. “Don’t worry about me.”

READ THE FULL CHAPTER HERE

Tags: @crumpets-are-better-with-jam, @caswinchester2000, @missxfeels, @thequietchildren, @midnxghtblue, @plantedcats, @darkness-falls-xo, @urminebutidontwantyou, @sweetsaph, @thetiny-hufflepuff

The Cosmic Horror of Gotham City

CHAPTER NINETEEN / MASTERLIST / Subscribe on AO3

Pairing: Jason Todd/Non-binary!Reader

Summary: Things are changing between you and it's unignorable.

Word Count: 6,849.

Jason's utter lack of mockery put you ill at ease. You glanced at him. Catching sight of his glassy eyes and shaking limbs, you quickly leaned over with a worried, “Hey.”

“Please don’t,” he rasped as he tilted back against the headrest. His tone made you stop. You dropped your hand, unsure how to proceed.

You stared at him, eyes wide and powerless.

Jason sniffled. You glanced his way again as he wiped at a stray tear. Gravity tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I can’t watch you cry and ignore it,” you admitted.

“I need you to. Please,” he begged.

“No.”

Jason choked out a laugh, congested and caught on the sharp edges of melancholy. His bloodshot eyes found yours. “I said ‘please.’”

You sloped forward, eyes steady on him. “And I told you. No.”

He made an argumentative noise. “You won’t let a man cry in peace? That’s cruel, even for you.”

You tried not to smile. “I’ll let you cry, for a price.”

His brow raised in muted defeat. “What’s that?”

You let your hand fall onto the centre console, palm facing upwards. Your fingers lay limp and parted in anticipation. Jason looked down at your hand. The muscles in his throat worked hard as he deliberated his next move.

“If I hold your hand while I’m bawling my eyes out, we’re definitely going to crash,” he said pointedly, gaze flashing upwards. “And then Roy will finish the job.”

With a flippant smile stretched across your face, you said, “Okay.”

“‘Okay?’” repeated a bewildered Jason. You shrugged and twisted towards the window, leaving your hand where it was. “Damn you,” he muttered.

But it wasn’t long after that his fingers laced with yours. He stared at you, hoping you’d turn back to see the mess you’d made of a vulnerable man.

For once, Gotham’s dismal grey skies shied away, allowing a modicum of sunlight to burst through the clouds. The warmth was all enveloping as it alleviated your worries. The radiant beams were pleasant upon your skin, gifting you with livened spirits.

You stood outside of your apartment, completing a blissful twirl as you soaked up a couple more rays. Jason watched, an amused twist to his mouth as he leaned against Roy’s truck.

Roy had kindly offered it for your use—as long as it was returned in the same or better condition. You’d rolled your eyes at that, knowing full well the only time the vehicle was ever cleaned was when it rained. “Nature’s shower,” he’d exclaimed.

“Can you drive?” came Jason’s curious question as you met him at the truck’s door. Warily eying him, you nodded. There was a shrill clack as the keys were hung in front of your nose.

“What?” you gaped, pushing his hand from your face.

“You can drive us,” he said, expectant brows raised.

You shook your head. “I haven’t—in a long time.”

He shrugged and tossed you the keys anyway. Before you could argue, he’d rounded the car and climbed in. The passenger door slammed shut. You sighed with renewed agitation. Of course he wanted to ruin your sunny mood.

Your fingers twitched as you slid into the driver’s seat. None of your prior training felt like enough preparation. Jason’s scrutiny only increased your nervousness.

“I don’t know the way,” you said, voice weak.

“I’ll direct you.”

An exasperated sigh broke loose from your throat. You slowly inched towards the ignition as you searched for a last-minute escape route. “I’m going to kill us,” you warned, glancing at him with pleading eyes.

His gaze dropped to where you gripped the steering wheel tight. “At least it’ll be on my own terms,” he shrugged, shifting so he was more comfortable. You squinted at him for the blithe comment.

Facing the road again, you inhaled and exhaled deeply. Unfortunately, you couldn’t say the exercise helped to settle your stomach. And then, to your surprise, one of his hands covered your trembling one in an attempt at comfort. You stared at it, noting that his fingers didn’t seem as swollen as they had previously been.

You looked up. Jason shot you a small smile, eyes soft with encouragement. But his hand drifted back to his own lap all too soon.

Okay, you could do this. It was only fifteen minutes or something like that, right? You didn’t want to make yourself out to be any more of a coward. Jason already had enough reasons to harass you till your wit’s end.

You listened to the low sputter of the engine as you pulled away from the kerb, sweating profusely the entire time. You managed to get onto the road without issue, although you were well under the speed limit. Jason didn’t complain. He did, however, plop his lower limbs onto the dashboard.

“Do you know what happens when we crash and your legs are up there?” you asked, eyes flashing to him briefly.

“Yep.”

“They snap like matchsticks.”

“So don’t crash,” he drawled, head tipping over his shoulder with a lazy smirk. You forced yourself not to stare. Or you really would crash.

You eventually picked up enough speed to match the other cars by the time you reached the bridge.

“You’re doing real good, sweetheart,” Jason commented, his Gotham accent heavier than usual. You swallowed thickly, not liking how your heart reacted to the praise. “I’m not even scared for my life anymore.”

“Hey!” you cried, swatting at his arm while trying not to wobble across lane lines. He gave a husky chuckle, meeting your attacks with a whack of his own. You caught his hand and pressed it against the wheel with a triumphant noise.

The turn of events intrigued him, and as such, his eyes slanted towards you. This sense of playful domesticity and comfort was entirely foreign to him. He wondered if it was the same for you.

Thumps pounded within his ribcage as his heartbeat picked up, but he didn’t dare breathe a word. He wanted a moment where he was allowed to enjoy such a tenderness—one which was unusually shared with him.

As his gaze dropped coyly, Jason decided to test the waters. He pried his fingers apart, and automatically yours wedged into the empty slots between his. His thumb began a slow graze over your skin.

Fuck, you were practically holding hands. And he kind of liked it.

He nervously glanced up and spotted the muscles working in your throat, although your eyes didn’t waver from the road. He supposed you housed a similar fretful twinge.

He leaned against the chair’s headrest as he continued to watch through careful eyes. He didn’t know how long he could leave his hand there before it truly became a thing—before it meant something he couldn’t take back. Something he might have to acknowledge properly.

“We’re almost there, right?” you murmured after a heavy silence. You spared him a look, taking in his pretty green eyes. He was doing that thing again where he tried to find an answer on your face. You didn’t have one for him though. This was new and scary but also—

“Yeah,” Jason mumbled, tugging his hand from yours. Weirdly, there was resistance from your end.

That had been a hint though, hadn’t it? Get the hell off me before someone else sees?

You didn’t seem annoyed per se, but a frown slipped onto your face at the change. He’d put it there for a reason that ungracefully slipped past his comprehension.

The Manor was as grand as ever, you noted, as you padded across the soft green grounds. Perhaps even more so in the daylight. The air was filled with the scent of freshly pruned shrubs and grass. You were grateful the sun still peeked from behind the garden statues, lighting a speckled path for you.

You looked over your shoulder as Jason lagged behind. It was like the Wayne land burned him, if his grimaced expression held any meaning. You took a few steps backwards to match pace with him. He paused when you did but he refused to meet your eyes.

“You can wait... if you want,” you told him in a low tone as you scratched at your arm.

He tensed and untensed his fingers and repeated the actions a few more times. Truly, he’d already been considering it. He couldn’t hide from the urge to scream and scream and never stop screaming that had lodged between his reanimated organs.

“Uh...” Jason breathed aloud, trying to force down the puke and metaphorical rot and worms. He’d been buried in this very dirt and clawed his way out of it with only a fraction of his mind left. He swallowed, feeling sicker as the thoughts spun and rewound again, like an old Hollywood reel.

You nodded, taking his muteness as an answer. You turned on your heel to leave him amongst the discarded clippings.

“Wait,” he panicked, stepping after you. He reached out, not really meaning to grab you, but so the distance wouldn’t get any bigger. He stopped short. He swallowed bile at the invisible barrier between you.

You held out the car keys. “Just wait in the car, Jason.”

Despair tugged at his mouth and pinched the space between his brows. “I... I can do this,” he said lamely.

“You don’t have to.”

Your lack of belief made his nostrils flare. “I can,” he snapped, breaking from the spot he’d been rooted to. He knocked past you as he stalked towards the magnificent, looming door.

You called for him. He stopped rigid, only a couple of steps from his goal. Jason looked up at the hidden camera. It was a surprise that Alfred hadn’t greeted you already, since he would have been alerted to your presence the second you breached the gates. Jason choked on more bile.

He flinched when your fingers wound around his wrist, cold but not uncaring. He looked between you and your hand neurotically.

“Last chance,” you warned him, softer this time.

He scowled at you. “I told you—”

“Okay,” you interrupted him. Your hand dropped till your fingers intertwined.

He was less pliant this time, and subsequently, his mouth opened and closed, voice lost to confusion. He looked at the ground, beyond where his skin tingled oddly against yours. He thought you hadn’t liked his touch earlier, but now—?

Jason shook the whirlwind of thoughts off and led you to the door without another word. He tugged you behind him, not needing to add embarrassment onto the pile of emotions he was going through.

Albeit unnecessary, he knocked. Seconds later, the door opened inwards to reveal Alfred proudly standing beside it.

“Ah, Master Todd,” he greeted, first looking him over. Then, his scrupulous eyes turned to you. Jason pulled you closer to hide you from view.

Alfred pasted a polite smile onto his face. “This must be...”

“Yeah, yeah, old man. Get out of the way,” Jason said, forcing his way inside, and you along with him.

“Hey,” you muttered in warning. You shot the butler an apologetic look.

“He already knows I’m a miscreant,” Jason scoffed, not rethinking his actions.

“While correct,” Alfred agreed, following them, “a proper introduction would not go awry, Jason.”

Jason said your name, “Meet Alfred. Resident pain in the ass.” He threw a look over his shoulder as he stomped down the hallway. “Happy?”

You remembered taking a similar path when you’d been here for Donna’s birthday, but it didn’t stop you from looking over the place in wonder again.

“Endlessly,” came Alfred’s monotonous reply.

A wry smile appeared at the man’s dry wit. “I see where he gets it,” you said to no one in particular, although it earned you a double brow raise. You squeezed Jason’s hand, indicating the comment was in jest.

He sighed loudly. “Is Raven in the training wing or not?”

“The old one... burned down,” Alfred reminded him, and the last part tasted strangely bitter on his tongue. “Perhaps you’ll allow me to escort you to the new wing, if you so please.”

That made Jason slow and inevitably pause. You felt the tendons in his arm stiffen, but nonetheless, he nodded.

The three of you walked in silence, diverting from Jason’s original path. He kept his feet ahead of yours.

He knew they’d arrived when he saw wide, frosted glass doors, and beyond it, gym equipment. You both stopped just short of them. “Thanks, Alfred,” Jason said quietly, unsure how else to part in the most ceremonious way possible.

Alfred nodded once, however he didn’t let the conversation end there. “Will you be staying for tea?” he queried.

You looked at Jason the same time he looked to you. You saw the slight twitch in his jaw that meant no. You wanted to say yes—if only to annoy him—but you didn’t want to actually stick around. That seemed like giving Dick too much leeway in recruiting you. Your plan was to see Raven and get out in one piece.

You let out a modest sigh and faced Alfred. “I’m sorry, we have plans already.” Jason relaxed as soon as you gave the excuse.

“Very well. Another time then,” Alfred nodded to himself. There was a beat before he continued. “I assume you’re the roommate?” he asked airily, although the question had obviously come from a place of curious concern.

Jason immediately ripped his hand from yours and crossed his arms at the forthcoming indignation. Alfred was going to verbally crucify him for fun. As if being there wasn’t already hard enough.

“Not anymore. I moved in with Roy.” You glanced at Jason, then Alfred. The corners of your mouth curved. “But he seems to have followed me anyway.”

Alfred’s head tilted and his sharp-eyed stare focused on Jason. “In that case, I do hope he’s pulling his weight?”

Jason made a low noise of protest in the back of his throat.

“Of course,” you agreed, but you couldn’t deny the lick of mischief you felt any longer. “Are you the grandfather that taught him to cook?”

“‘Grandfather?’ Why, I’m merely an old, useless butler,” Alfred mused, playing along. The smugness utterly radiated off him at the shock of an unintentional compliment.

It would seem Jason had to scratch out not being humiliated from his list of things to do that day.

The blood drained from Jason’s face, re-emerging as a tidal wave of insufferable heat, flooding his entire body. He turned around, fingers compulsively finding their way into the curls at his nape. He wanted to yank the hair from its roots; a blinding pain that would hopefully send him to another planet where this wasn’t happening.

“Well, you trained him to be a perfectly good house husband,” you tittered. Alfred’s smile widened, enough to be noticeable.

However, that was the final straw for Jason—if he had to listen to one more word, he was going to go out to his grave and unearth the site so he could return to it.

His fist balled into the back of your shirt, forcing you out of the conversation with an unexpected jerk. “Enough!” Jason lashed out. “Both of you cut it the fuck out, or we’re leaving.”

Alfred sighed wearily, eyes raking over the pair. They stayed on Jason. “Very well.”

Your face fell. As you pivoted, you tried to pry his fingers from your clothes. He met you with anger—or was it hurt?—in his eyes. You wanted to ask why, but he moved towards the door. Alfred immediately tailed.

He reached for the entry panel but Jason stopped him, fists tight by his side. “I can do it.”

“Unfortunately not, I'm afraid.”

It definitely unscabbed a wound to hear it. Upset flickered across his face. “Why? You scrubbed me from the system?”

“No, Jason,” Alfred replied, sounding just as sad. His voice lowered again when he said, conspiratorially, “Your eyes.”

Even though you didn’t understand, Jason did. He froze, hackles practically raised. He took a stiff step back, almost bumping into you as he waited for Alfred to let you both in.

They parted with only an idiosyncratic glance; an acknowledgement of the world of secrets only they were privy to.

You didn’t speak until the doors closed behind you and Alfred walked away. Then, you looked to Jason. You opened your mouth but he cut in first.

“It’s fine.”

“It’s not,” you argued.

He rubbed at his eyebrow. Finally, scornfully, he repeated, “A ‘house husband,’ really?”

“What?” You attempted to muster your bravado. You were quick to offer, “You take care of me. And Roy.”

Jason looked at you strangely as he silently contemplated the admission. He shook his head. “Just—don’t say things like that to him, yeah? He doesn’t need new ammo.”

You barely gave a nod before your eyes averted. You scanned the gym, taking in the large room. One side was coveted in a wall of thorny rose bushes. A garden lay hidden behind them. You wouldn’t mind taking a walk through them, you thought absently.

All at once, Jason’s wired presence ensnared you once again. You swallowed, dodging his probing gaze. Despite the fact that you kept Raven waiting, you didn’t think you could pretend that his outburst hadn’t bothered you. “I don’t like when you yell,” you said, eyes stuck to a foam mat.

His own flicked to your face, roaming over the slopes gingerly. “I’m sorry,” he exhaled. “I’ll remember that.” When you didn’t reply after a few seconds, Jason touched your elbow. You’d been busy mulling his sincerity. “We good?” Jason asked, voice frail, when you finally acknowledged him with a look.

You cleared your throat. Hoarsely, you insisted, “I mean it.”

The chill of his fingers fell away. “I know,” he said, and it was still spoken at a hushed volume. Frustrated, he ground his knuckles into his cheek until redness bloomed. “It’s hard for me... to be here.”

You wrest the hand that assaulted his face, dragging it to its natural hanging position. His gaze darted across the room helplessly.

“You’re trying?” you asked. There was a pin board in your subconscious where you stuck these new details about the enigma of a man in front of you.

It took some time, but he inevitably met your gaze again. Jason’s chin dipped in a nod. You parroted the movement, expelling your worries with a breath.

As you recalled Alfred’s comment, you peered closer. His eyes narrowed in return.

“What’s wrong with your eyes?” you asked suspiciously as you mirrored his expression. To you, they were awfully intoxicating, but not damaged in any way.

He snorted his dismissal. “Guess I grew out of them.”

Great, you thought. Another non-answer.

The neat path led Jason into a part of the garden that was haunted solely by grief these days. A heaviness hung in the air, thick and undulating—willing to take hostages without notice.

He felt it the moment he stepped past the threshold of bloomed pink and yellow roses. The hue of the petals trended darker here, warning of the sadness to come. He paid them only a glance, more focused on his destination. He felt welcome in the clutches of sorrow that lapped at his feet hungrily; like a fated pull that promised to lead him to an old friend.

The flower bushes gave way to a small, gothic piked area. It was stereotypically forlorn in its presentation. The sun, coincidentally, dipped behind the clouds, perhaps in fear of something so powerful.

Jason Peter Todd’s gravestone loomed beside the tall Wayne slabs. He scanned the plots, past Martha and Thomas, before he stopped at Bruce’s. Jason was glued there for a long time, but it took much less than that for his eyes to change from searingly dry to teary.

His entire walk to this graveyard had left him with the rising feeling of suffocation. It clawed its way up from the ground and into his limbs. Now it took home in his chest and throat, scratchy and uncomfortable, much like the thorns that had scuffed him on the journey in. His ribs felt like they were being crushed under the hand of a supervillain.

Except he was that villain.

Bruce was six feet because of him.

His fingers burrowed into his jumper pockets as he searched for a reprieve from the gaping well in his heart. It only swirled and expanded, purported by his overwhelmed senses.

Jason’s eyes slanted sideways. His plot had been smoothed over, no sign of him ever having crawled out. It was odd to still see it standing. But perhaps he was dead to them either way.

A hiccup escaped him. It hurt.

It was too much, too quick, he realised as he relived the moment when his skin was re-exposed to fresh air. He stared at the unruffled dirt. When he’d come up, Bruce’s stone hadn’t been there. It had just been him, the skeletons of the elder Waynes—he shivered—and the chirping of birds he thought he’d never hear again. The whole thing made him want to vomit.

Blood rushed his ears like a waterfall, ever increasing in volume. It left him with dizzying stars in his eyes and the feeling of a thousand concussions hitting at once. His breath was sucked out of his chest and into the deity that hunted him.

Jason stumbled with a yelp as a set of bony phalanges dug into his ankle. It tore open the skin: a raw, ragged cut that burned deep. His balance was ripped from beneath him. Jason’s elbows hit the grass and a painful tremor rocked his limbs. He tried to scramble back, holding in his whimpers, but the hand had other plans for him.

It simultaneously climbed his leg for better leverage while it also yanked him closer to the burial hole.

Bruce was going to send him back to Hell.

“No, no, no,” he repeated, clawing at the grass in desperation. “Stop. Go away. Please,” he begged The Ghost.

He let out a sob when another hand curled around his top half. Jason tried to shove the pervasive arm off, wishing he’d never come. Even if you needed him.

“Go away,” he cried, choking on the simple syllables. The air talked back to him in a frequency too loud and sizzling.

At once, an arm dragged Jason from Bruce’s grave and the entranced skeleton. Jason grappled with the being that engulfed him as he voiced his anguished pleas. They quickly devolved into hyperventilated sobs.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, little wing,” was pressed into the back of his head, amongst his curls.

He was slow to comprehend the words, but when he did, he stammered out, “Wh—at?” Because that hadn’t been Bruce’s disembodied voice. Bruce had never called him little wing.

He pried at the arm clutched around his collarbone and found chestnut freckled skin—warm, alive.

“We should’ve been there. I should’ve been there for you,” the voice continued in a mournful blubber of their own. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Jason peered through his glossy eyes at his leg to see it was completely intact. Another guttural weep unleashed from deep within his gut. What was ever real in his life? Were you? Was Dick?

The arms around him tightened. His companion’s hot tears fell down his neck. “We should’ve—we should’ve saved—”

“Dick?” Jason’s words were strangled between harsh breaths.

“I know I can never make up for it. I’m so sorry,” he agonised by his temple. “I’m here now, Jason.”

Jason was drained and confused and his chest heaved like he’d overdone a workout. His ears rang incessantly. He tried to look over his shoulder to see his newest companion. All he could manage to say, dully, was, “I killed Bruce.”

“You didn’t. You didn’t,” came Dick’s immediate, stringent reply. “Bruce killed Bruce. He left us. He’s a coward, Jason. He couldn’t live with his choices.”

He was floored to hear that from Dick of all people. He deflated into his touch, overly fatigued. “You don’t blame me?”

Dick let out a sad noise. “No. But you’re right to blame me. You—” Dick faltered over the unsaid, a streak from his eye punctuating his attempt, “—you died because of us.”

“Bruce dumped you,” Jason said in a low tone.

“It doesn’t matter,” he said sharply. “I was old enough to know better. I left you with him.”

Jason felt the sobs threaten to return at Dick’s plight. He struggled to keep his breathing even. He rubbed at the inner corners of his eyes, willing the wetness away. He swallowed through a painful lump when Dick’s fingers carded through his hair. It was a gentle, doting motion.

“I’ve missed you every day since, okay?” Dick said quietly. “I love you, Jay.” Feeling Jason’s muscles tense, Dick tried to soothe his agitation with a slow rub over his shoulder blades. “You don’t have to love me back,” he whispered. “It’s okay, promise.”

Jason croaked out something that resembled a sorrowful laugh. “But you’re my brother.”

Four rounds of Raven’s instructions had gotten you no closer to learning control. Your ability acted as it pleased: begin dutifully, then run astray. Sometimes the metallic pool was prompt to misbehave, straight to shooting wonky shards in every direction. If Raven wasn’t quick to banish them as they appeared—which you had no idea how she could do that—they left slices in the walls.

After another failed attempt, Raven resorted to words of encouragement. Well, her version of encouragement. She murmured your name calmly, “Powers aren’t easy.”

Your patience was stretched thin at this point. Even if it had only been twenty minutes. You threw your arms up in a tizzy and stared at the wall. “Why not? Getting them was.”

Out of the corner of your eye, you saw her lips twitch, amused. “I doubt that’s true.”

So, maybe those ‘scientists’ had experimented for years before they’d even gotten a hold of you. And you ending up the way you had was nothing short of a miracle, considering their trail of dead bodies. But that didn’t make this process any more tolerable.

You shifted to your other foot, incensed by your lack of success. You resigned to muteness and glared at her. You would do that until the rage evaporated, you decided.

She remained unbothered and met your gaze. It was a long time before she spoke again, an idea having struck her. “Seeing your powers in action is good. It gives me a better understanding,” Raven said. “But let’s focus on baby steps.”

You folded your arms but listened. “What’s that mean?”

She sighed pre-emptively, knowing you wouldn’t like her suggestion. “Meditation.”

You huffed, loud and dramatic and absolutely in semblance of one of Jason’s tantrums. Raven said your name again in an inarguable tone. Your frown deepened, however you allowed her your attention.

“This is going to take time, no matter what. It did for all of us,” she told you resolutely. The fire within you was smothered by her pestilent honesty. “I’m sorry you’re frustrated and afraid of yourself, but you need to channel that energy. Meditation is good in that regards.”

You exhaled and let your arms drop. “Fine,” you said as your arms swung. “How?”

She asked you to sit down next to her so she could demonstrate her process. She ran through it in condensed steps. It sounded easy enough to replicate, but you knew clearing your mind wouldn’t be so simple.

Finally, she requested, “Let's do it together. I’ll guide you.” You gathered yourself into a comfortable position.

You tried to follow the breathing set as described by her soothing voice, but almost instantly your thoughts went to the very reason why you were doing this: the splatter of blood that had, up until seconds ago, pulsed warmly in another person’s throat. The way the energy drooled slow and thick under your skin, like mercury rising up an old thermometer. It always begged to be let out—I can solve your problems.

You blinked away the images of syrupy red splashed across walls and the unforgettable sound of someone gurgling on air. You willed plain darkness behind your eyelids.

It worked for a few minutes as you thought of rain against a window pane. A pretty noise, but too much of a striking similarity to the kind of droplets you ran from. With an aggrieved sigh, you moved onto something else before you grew more irritated.

And what was more perfect than Jason and his gloominess that haunted these halls?

He’d disappeared as soon as Raven had collected you. You wondered if he’d gone to sulk or trot around—it seemed as if he hadn’t been back here in some time.

Raven sensed your distraction. Her eyes fluttered open. Curiously, she asked, “What are you thinking of?”

You let your eyeballs know light again; the pastel and harsh hues of the gym. You looked to her as your brain fumbled to form a reply. You swallowed your uncertainty. “Why does Jason not like being here?”

Her eyes glazed over but there was no other indication that the question was an uncomfortable one. “Some things... happened, a couple of years ago,” she started. “The Manor and its residents bring up those unpleasant memories.”

You took her vagueness to mean the situation had been dire. You nodded, hoping she would give you a sliver more.

“He hasn’t forgiven us. Or himself, for that matter.”

What did he need to forgive them for? You desperately trawled your memories in search of an answer, as if it would jump out at you suddenly. Nothing did.

“He hasn’t told you much,” Raven mused. “About us and his past.”

“No, not much,” you agreed. “I know he was Robin.”

She nodded along. “Why do you trust him?”

Your chin lifted, puzzled by the query. Nevertheless, you said, “I saved his life and he saved mine.”

Raven sighed softly. She appreciated the candidacy and the fact that you obviously cared for him when they hadn’t been able to. “Thank you.”

You pulled your knees to your chest. “Thanks for helping me,” you said in turn. “Sorry that I’m a handful.” In the back of your mind, you acknowledged that it was odd to have a superior who was younger than you.

“We’ll figure this out,” she said and nodded in emphasis. The sincerity of her tone almost made you panic. You shrugged it off as you both stood.

Unsurely, you asked, “Same time next week?”

“Of course.”

You meant to leave, but your incessant need to have the last word made you pause. “You know, you never told me about your date.”

A shy smile spread across her face. “Garfield made a fool of himself. But... it was good.” Her nose scrunched. “Too fancy for my taste, though.”

You laughed, nerves eased by the simplicities of young love.

Leaving the Manor was a silent affair once you’d said goodbye to Raven, Alfred, and Dick, whom left his appearance to the last minute. Interestingly, he’d sent Jason off with a careful pat to his shoulder.

You climbed into the passenger seat as Jason decided to take over driving duties. You appreciated it, but his utter lack of mockery put you ill at ease. You glanced at him. Catching sight of his glassy eyes and shaking limbs, you quickly leaned over with a worried, “Hey.”

“Please don’t,” he rasped as he tilted back against the headrest. His tone made you stop. You dropped your hand, unsure how to proceed.

You stared at him, eyes wide and powerless. He’d never wanted your help or comfort before, so why would he start now? You shifted uneasily and glanced down at your hands. You wondered if this would ever get better between you—or at least easier to live with.

Jason sniffled. You glanced his way again as he wiped at a stray tear. Gravity tugged at the corners of your mouth. “I can’t watch you cry and ignore it,” you admitted. It was bad enough that the skin around his nose was a splotchy red, as were his cheeks. His undereyes and lips were slightly swollen, too.

“I need you to. Please,” he begged.

“No.”

Jason choked out a laugh, congested and caught on the sharp edges of melancholy. His bloodshot eyes found yours. “I said ‘please.’” His words were less sad this time around, but you knew he still searched for a way to make you concede.

You sloped forward, eyes steady on him. “And I told you. No.”

He made an argumentative noise. “You won’t let a man cry in peace? That’s cruel, even for you.”

You tried not to smile. “I’ll let you cry, for a price.”

His brow raised in muted defeat. “What’s that?”

You let your hand fall onto the centre console, palm facing upwards. Your fingers lay limp and parted in anticipation. Jason looked down at your hand. The muscles in his throat worked hard as he deliberated his next move.

“If I hold your hand while I’m bawling my eyes out, we’re definitely going to crash,” he said pointedly, gaze flashing upwards. “And then Roy will finish the job.”

With a flippant smile stretched across your face, you said, “Okay.”

“‘Okay?’” repeated a bewildered Jason. You shrugged and twisted towards the window, leaving your hand where it was. “Damn you,” he muttered.

But it wasn’t long after that his fingers laced with yours. He stared at you, hoping you’d turn back to see the mess you’d made of a vulnerable man.

Instead, you pulled his hand to your face. For half a second, he cradled the plumpness of your cheek, and then you pressed your lips to his pulse point. You did it again for good measure, and Jason wondered if you felt the heart attack he was currently experiencing.

Your nose nudged the skin of his wrist as you looked at him from under your eye lashes. His heart slammed against his chest. So much had changed between you in mere days and it scared him as much as it set off his adrenaline.

Your mouth grew into an unruly smile, cheek pushing into his palm. He watched, unblinking, bewitched.

Your lips just barely grazed him when you whispered an inviting, “You can cry now.”

Jason was stuck on your exceptional kindness. He recalled the softness of your cheek in comparison to his calloused skin and of how you’d nuzzled into him unabashedly. Then you’d dismissed it all with your teasing, only holding him close for a few moments longer. His fingers twitched, wishing to repeat the strange awe-inducing experience.

Jason recoiled—unlike you ever had around him—when he heard August’s grating voice.

“So, you’ve mended things then?” they confirmed upon hearing about his face reveal.

His jaw flexed as the memory washed away from his touch-starved brain. “S’pose,” he mumbled.

“Would you disagree?” August prompted, pen tapping at their clipboard a couple of times.

Jason thought back to the stupid vow of commitment he’d made. He let out a sigh. “No.”

“But you’re still worried?”

His hands trailed over the chair’s armrests distractedly. He offered a simple, “Yes.” His measured eyes looked up to August to see how invested they were in the discussion.

“Why’s that?”

“Because,” Jason huffed, “they could change their mind.”

The doctor took note of his concern. “Do they have reason to?”

“Of course they do. I died and I’m evil.”

August had to bite back a laugh at how plainly he stated the facts. “Jason,” they admonished.

“What? It’s true,” he scoffed and his hands tightened, indenting the plush fabric.

“I believe you’re oversimplifying things.”

“You reckon, huh?” Jason said, baiting them into an argument.

August didn’t engage, instead changing gears. “Do you plan to share these fears with them? Or potentially the secrets themselves?”

“Ha,” Jason bit out, jaw clenching immediately afterwards. “Hell no.”

August ignored his swift rejection of the idea. “Perhaps it’s time to put that trust to the test, Jason. Start with something small?”

He looked away as sourness filled his mouth. How could he start small when every secret he had was more monstrous than the prophesised black hole that would consume the Earth whole?

“Have a little faith in the ones who choose to love you.”

His head whipped back around. Love? The very suggestion made his saliva turn to ash and his hearing dissipate to a mere vibration. The train of thought was entirely too much, so he changed it. “I went to the grave site.” He breathed out shallowly. “Mine. Bruce’s.”

Their head tilted. “How was that?”

“Bad.”

A thin smile slipped onto August’s face. “You’ve recited more poetic verses than that.”

He shrugged, falsely unbothered. “Dick was there.”

“Oh?” August asked, resting their elbows on their knees.

“He said... he said he was sorry.” Jason met their waiting eyes. “For not doing enough. For letting me...” He sucked in another breath. He looked down, fingers raking over where his holsters ought to be. “For letting me die alone,” he finished, only a blip of his anguish surfacing.

“He said that?”

Jason nodded once, not able to level his gaze. Tension remained in his shoulders.

“Wow,” August hummed, impressed with the update. “Was that cathartic?”

“A fraction,” he admitted.

“That’s excellent, Jason,” the doctor continued. “Will you be pursuing a healthier relationship with Dick?”

He looked up then, his forehead creased. He found the wording... not to his liking.

August breathed a little louder; a quiet kind of chagrin. He almost smirked—that was what finally upset them? The implication of incest?

Instead, his head slanted in challenge as he made no attempt to answer.

“Do you think this will help fix things with your family?” they finally amended, posture straightening with obvious displeasure.

Jason shrugged at their lacklustre response. “Maybe once the anger wears off.”

The stone ledge of the building dug into Jason’s underside, a cold and biting reminder of where he was. He let the cigarette smoke hang in his lungs a second too long which caused his next exhale to morph into a cough. The wisps joined the smog of the city, dissipating into a lingering odour. He knew the smell would cling to his clothes no matter what. He also knew he was contributing to the ripe pollution of Gotham—and thus ruining the starry show he liked to watch—but pick your battles, right?

He breathed out again, this time through his nostrils only. It was a welcome burn.

Jason’s head swivelled the short distance upon sensing a new presence. Having expected it to be either you or Roy, he was put off when he found an unfamiliar face. The glow around them was halo white.

Great, he huffed with a roll of his eyes. He was going to have to act as mediator.

Jason didn’t greet them. He watched, for a moment, as they simply pottered about the roof top aimlessly, passing by the scattered remnants of people who’d been there at one point in time. He saw their mouth move, perhaps to have an argument with themselves. Which was even better, he thought sardonically, because now their crazies matched.

He looked back over the city, undecided if the colourful luminescence was more or less comforting than the plain white. Annoyance flickered in his chest as he felt the person’s eyes stop on him. Jason turned back with a scowl. “What?” he snapped, and there was a click in his jaw. He should be nicer to the dead, but, hey, he was busy, okay?

“You’re the risen Lazarus.”

Jason’s movements stuttered, unsure how to proceed. The words lay somewhere between a statement and a question. He didn’t think he’d ever been called that, at least not to his face.

“Why?” Jason’s question came out cautious. His body shifted involuntarily towards the person as years of defensive training reared their ugly head.

“Are you not?” They sounded confused by his lack of hasty confirmation, as if all of the things they had to share depended on his very existence. Their head tilted, eyes raking over his body and up to the streak in his hair.

Jason took the opportunity to repay the favour. It was a man, most likely younger than him. His outfit was nothing special; just casual, everyday wear. Nothing about the stranger screamed scary or unpredictable. Despite this, Jason felt like he teetered on a dangerous precipice.

“No, you are,” the ghost muttered to himself. He drifted closer.

“Again, why?” Jason bit out, tongue pushing against the back of his teeth.

“There’s a hole,” the man replied.

Jason held back a laugh soiled by bitterness. “Shit, in Gotham?” he snarked. “You don’t fuckin’ say.”

The ghost shook his head frantically. “No. The veil between worlds has splintered.” His eyes fixed on Jason, full of a message that hadn’t been received. “Things aren’t right.”

Jason rolled his eyes. “No shit. Why else would I be ‘Lazarus’?”

“You misunderstand, mister.” Agitation slunk into the man’s posture. “It’s been searching for you.”

Jason abruptly straightened and the cigarette fell from his grasp. Blood drained from his face. Goosebumps prickled along his neck and arms in an immobilising wave. “What does that mean?” he pressed, concern making its way to the creases of his forehead.

“Your resurrection is an unpaid due,” the man said. His eyes darted around the fringes of the building warily, recoiling from every gleam of moonlight. It was like he expected something to jump out at any time. “Don’t you feel it? Death lurking in the shadows?”

Of course he fucking felt it. He practically had every soul of the underworld perched on his shoulders, in and out as they pleased. But never to deliver such cryptic messages.

Jason swallowed, trying to wet his parched mouth. “Why are you telling me this?” he asked in a coarse timbre.

“Being dead sucks,” the man said with a shrug. The ghost whirled around then, seeming to lose interest in the conversation.

“How long?” Jason tried again, leaning forward with intent. He couldn’t stop the person from randomly disappearing, but he needed to know more than he’d already speculated.

The man’s eyes traced pavement instead of him. “It draws closer every day.” Staunchly, he suggested, “You should run. This place is a beacon.”

A creak from the balcony below interrupted the suspense. The phantom shot him a wistful look as he twisted back around, taking stock of one of the last beings he was able to communicate with.

Even after the stranger walked off the building’s edge and vanished, Jason stared at the space where he’d stood. His eyes didn’t waver even when you crept into sight.

A/N: i wanted to point out which scenes are my favourite this week, but tbh, ch 19 and 20 are both close to my heart. hope you'll see why! enjoy :-)

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When the angel’s rage

Stinky boy Brahms Heelshire

Ok i absolutely adore this man...

JUJUTSU KAISEN MASTERLIST

Keep reading

I’m back and I bare a boy!

Sy x Reader: make me your future history (One Shot)

Plot: You come back home and find everything you looked for in a quiet man who curses too much and his grumpy animals.

Tags: smut, fluff, cursing, my poor attempt of southern accent, mental health issues, eating disorder (implied), short fake dating, 9k+ words, minors dni

[A/N: AAAAAH I hope you like it <3]

“Home sweet home, sweetheart.”

You rolled your eyes at your father’s attempt at being funny.

In all the time you spent running away from your past you had never thought the time would come that you would be coming back home. The image of you in your blood black bodycon dress, white trench coat, and Louboutins would be comical to anyone who passes by your humble childhood home -- complete with the vegetable garden, pesky bees, and cat shit from the grumpy fucker your late mother used to call a pet.

“Lovely.”

“Oh, don’t be such a snob, pumpkin.”

“Dad!” you shrieked, looking behind you as if on instinct, terrified of the judgemental eyes of your peers at the absurd nickname your father used to call you when you were young. But the only thing that greeted you was the emptiness of the sidewalk, the distant mountains, and a lost sheep wandering around your fields.

You were definitely no longer in Los Angeles.

“Come on, now,” he called, carrying the last of your luggage up the short dirt path towards the front door. “Let’s get you cleaned up out of that ominous dress.”

You gawked, looking down at yourself as if to check if the two of you were seeing the same thousand dollar designer dress. But when you looked up your father was already chuckling, clearly just teasing.

“For your information, this is Vera Wang!”

“You look like that mean lady Cruella!” he screamed at his back, laughter getting louder by the second as you stomped your heel behind him.

“Better hide, Stanley,” he rubbed the head of the feline, pressing a kiss at the top of its head. “She might skin you for your fur.”

“Dad!”

“Hiss!”

“Shit!”

You kicked the pebble that made you trip, cursing out this poor town and their seeming ignorance of cemented roads. Your father had woken up with a bit of pain in his back and unfortunately, it would seem he had run out of painkillers so you had agreed to run a quick trip to the town and get some medicine for him in the pharmacy after nearly breaking your back yourself while doing his chores for the morning by feeding all the animals and cooking meals for the both of you.

It’s been a while but you managed. However, you still weren’t quite sure if it’s comforting how you still somehow knew your way ‘round the little farm. You thought for sure you had killed the little country girl in you as you bathed in the limelight of the big city.

“God this place hasn’t changed.”

The brick buildings used to intimidate you. The young farm-girl who knew nothing of the glitz and glamour of the city, that could only come to the main town when it was her birthday and she manages to drag her mother to buy her dresses and lipstick. It’s times like this that you miss her a bit more than usual.

You had wanted to buy your father a house in the town, even one in Los Angeles and be near you and better doctors. But he had declined. He planned to take care of the home he and your mother had built from the ground up. So you did the best you could and just made sure his bank account remained hefty, even got him that model of the truck he liked so much to make his trip to the town and back easier.

Unfortunately for you, you can’t drive a manual car to save your life. You had been whisked off by modelling scouts before your father could teach you and by the time you were settled in your own apartment, you had been successful enough in your career to afford an automatic.

“Hi, I called about an hour ago for some painkillers?”

The young lady behind the counter seemed to have recognized you (probably from the many magazines you posed for), the guppy wide-eyed look is always a dead giveaway but you hoped she wouldn’t make a big fess out of it. “Yes! Yes, I’ll get it right now, miss!”

“Aah! Looks like that old bastard’s pumpkin has come back.”

You looked behind the girl at the counter to see your father’s old friend coming out from the back room. Despite his whooping cough and weakening lungs, it would seem Mr. Jones could never kill that dangerous habit of his.

“Good afternoon, sir,” you greeted, letting yourself be wrapped in the smell of tobacco and coffee as he hugged you. You weren’t too fond of the nosy people in this town but Mr. Jones had been an old family friend, and like a second father to you. “It’s good to see you doing well.”

“Well, can’t have your pops beat me. We had a bet.”

You smiled, “That’s quite a bright way of keeping your strength up, Mr. Jones.”

He guffawed, rubbing your shoulders as he took the medicine in the pharmacist's hand and gave it to you. “You can say that --”

“Old man!”

The door slammed, the bell above it ringing so loudly but it was the booming voice that had made everyone in the small space jump. Mr. Jones only groaned in annoyance, nose flaring up. Pushing the paper bag in your hand he raised his cane, pointing it accusingly to the person who just went inside.

“Goddamnit Sy! How many times do I gotta tell you to learn how to open doors gently!”

The loud man’s entire body was hidden by the racks of goodies to pick up -- magazines, chips, and the likes. His face was barely visible by the shadow his cowboy hat set on it, the rest of it hidden behind his unkempt bushy beard. He has grown, but the years seemed to have been kind. A little rough maybe … but still kind.

“Layla needs the vitamins I asked for last week. Pregnancy is making that one act like a real ass.”

“Watch your language, we have a lady in here!” Mr. Jones pointed at you with his cane, making your eyes widen when the hulking man turned to you. He was huffing, chest moving up and down, nearly bursting its top buttons from the stretch. Sweat making the skin on his folded up sleeves sheen and small bits of dirt and dust sticking in his cheek. Yet his steel gaze still shot an arrow in your heart like you weren’t the confident model you had built yourself up to be. Time turning and turning until you were nothing more but a lovestruck freshman drooling over the senior.

Logan Syverson.

“H-Hi Syverson,” you raised a hand, but in your panic, you forgot to wave, hands freezing mid-air.

His eyes lingered, raking down your form that you had silently cursed yourself for not getting done up before you left the house. You just had to meet Syverson now of all days!

“Miss,” he tipped his hat, smiling at you. Though you doubt it would be considered one as he barely lifted his lips at all. “How’s your father?”

“H-He, uh,” you realized your hand was still raised and awkwardly scratched your head. “He’s fine.”

“And you?”

You realized he had asked you a follow-up question a few seconds too late. “I’m fine.”

This time he smiled a bit bigger, a firm line spreading across his face and making crinkles in his eyes that was definitely not back there before in your high school appear. “That’s good.”

Someone behind the two of you scoffed.

“That’s good?! This is why you ain’t never been married, son.”

Sy rolled his eyes, sighing, flawlessly catching the bag of presumable vitamins he came in the store for “I told you to stay out my business, old man.”

“What, so I want adorable children, running around here, calling me pops and not old man? Is that a crime?”

He laughed, a real guffaw. Removing his hat to point it at the old man. “You’re not making me your stud, Stan.”

“Bah!”

“And get off that damn tobacco! That shit’s gonna kill you someday!”

He came out, the same way he came in: like an eye of the storm. The store was suddenly a bit too quiet now that his unforgiving presence was gone. The type of storm that steals your breath away, traps you in and fool you into thinking it was calm, just to see something wild and dangerous brewing on the horizon.

God, he was still so fucking hot.

“Thank you, Stan! I’ll send dad your best wishes!”

You waved at the man goodbye, holding on to the paper bag tightly. And you were glad you did so when you turned to the road and saw Syverson leaning on his truck and looking at you, you didn’t drop the package to the ground.

“S-Sy!”

He moved with surprising agility and grace for a man his size, so quick you would’ve missed him if you blinked but his heavy footsteps made you audibly swallow the pooling saliva in your mouth lest you choke on it.

“Took you a while to get out,” he took one last inhale on the same camel cigarette he had scolded Mr Jones for using, throwing it down on the ground to step on it with his heavy boots.

Your eyes widened, suddenly finding it difficult to breathe at his close proximity, “I … I’m sorry, I didn’t know you were -- did you need anything?”

You have been interviewed by pushy friends and intimidating bosses but nothing had made you sweat more than how his steely gaze does. Or maybe it could just be the summer heat.

“No,” he gently opened his palm, cocking his head at the package in your hand. Despite your confusion, you gave it to him and followed mindlessly as he went and opened the door to the passenger seat. “But I couldn’t leave a lady like you walking in this heat. My ma would crawl out of her grave, bless her soul.”

“Oh! Oh no, i-i’m fine …” your voice wavered as he raised an eyebrow at you, tossing the bag of medicines and vitamins in the leather seat of the massive truck.

“I’ll help you up.”

He gave no more room for argument, letting you walk to the monstrosity that was his truck and guided you with a firm palm on your back as you hoisted yourself up on the seat.

“Nice ride,” you smiled, tinkling on the little intricacies it had despite the thin layer of dust that polluted it. You gripped on a dog wearing a hula skirt and strumming a guitar hung from the rearview mirror, entertained at the thought of such a comical object on such a serious man’s truck. “Is this the latest model?”

He nodded, still the same man with the few words. In the year you were able to observe him from afar he had always been a bit different than the rambunctious boys he called his friends that always gathered at whichever table he sat on. Always minding his own business, always has his head down or playing with a football to pass the time if not taking a nap in the tits of whichever girl he was with.

You pouted, racking your head with any conversation starters.

“I bought my dad the one before, he never shut up about it.”

“Ah”, he quipped, now focusing on the road back to your house. Staring at him, you couldn’t help but rub your thighs together. He had always been so … big … and intimidating when he was still young. But with the addition of the minute scars on his arms (from farmwork no doubt) and the growing beard -- he looked almost savage now.

This little crush of yours is gonna be the death of you.

He turned his eye towards you, trying to hide a smirk on his lips when you yelped and turned away, face burning in embarrassment.

“How’d you know where I live?”

“Small town, bug,” he shrugged turning the last block till you saw your house. Your heart fluttered at the nickname “And I visit your pa from time to time. Just to check up on everything.”

You were sure your heart has now turned into mush.

“Ah! Syverson!”

Your father waved, walking towards the gate to greet the man with a welcome hug. “You been taking care of my pumpkin, eh? She give you any headaches?”

“Dad!”

“It’s no problem, sir,” Sy opened your door, offering a hand to help you get down. “She was pleasant company.”

Not as pleasant, you think. When he had barely uttered more than two-sentence in the entire five-minute ride. You had thought it was your chance to get to know him better but no dice.

“Hmm,” your father nodded, staring at the two of you back and forth. “You still got no wife --”

“Alright! That’s it! You’re going back inside, you senile old man!”

You waved back at Syverson, nearly dragging your father back to the house so he could rest before he embarrasses you any further. It wasn’t until he was back in his room that you realized how you didn’t even properly say goodbye or thank you to the man. You had run towards the door, foolishly hoping you would catch him somehow.

But the dust had already settled, his tracks already fading.

The sound of barking was the first thing you heard, followed by small thuds that were only explained when you finally found the source of it: a sweaty Syverson chopping off firewood that was the size of his arm.

You gulped audibly when he slammed one last wood, splitting it like butter.

“Who’s there?”

You straightened, surprised when he suddenly turned in your direction when you were sure you didn’t make a single noise. Awkwardly, you waved at him with one hand while the other carried the blueberry cheesecake you made for him, hoping he’ll see you meant no harm. Not that you could scratch him even with all of your strength.

“H-Hi! Sorry for barging into you like this. I tried to call but … uh …”

Sy looked back at his house and winced.

Yeah, he didn’t seem like a man who carried his phone with him all day. With how rough taking care of his farm must become, a fragile piece of technology would be no match for the hooves of the giant horses he raised.

You tried to maintain your wavering smile as he dropped the axe on a larger stomp before using his shirt to wipe his sweaty face making it rise up and give you a peek of the thick happy trail that made you go frigid.

Don’t look down, don’t look down, don’t look dow --

“Sorry bout that. Your pops need help with anything?”

“Oh no! I just, I made this,” you raised the cake to his face, hoping it covered the embarrassment in your face. Or the way your eyes raked over his burly figure that is threatening to burst out the seams of his checkered shirt.

“For me?”

He seemed confused.

You nodded, still looking down, though grateful when he took the platter as your hands were already starting to shake from the effort. “A-As thanks. I … I wasn’t able to thank you properly a few days ago for the ride. My dad has a tendency of embarrassing me and I didn’t want him to make you uncomfortable. But I didn’t know what you liked so I just thought it might help with the heat and --”

“Woah, calm down, honey,” You hadn’t even realized you were rambling. But you stopped in your tracks when you heard him call you that. You had to bite your tongue so you wouldn’t scream.

HE CALLED YOU HONEY.

“It’s alright. I like blueberries.”

AND HE LIKES BLUEBERRIES.

You nodded, like an eager student, mentally taking note of such facts.

“That’s … that’s great!” you giggled, placing your hands behind your back before you realized how lovestruck you looked and quickly placed it in front of you, fingers wrapping around each other. “I’ll leave you to enjoy it then!”

Like a cowardly squirrel, you were too quick to almost scurry out of there. Hoping to get some fresh air into your brain and make you act right once again.

“Wanna join me?”

God, being anywhere near Sy is dangerous. It makes your head short-circuit and make you do and say stupid things. Now you’re even having auditory hallucinations of him inviting you to --

“Wait -- really?”

This time he truly smiled, the charming type that had you internally squealing like a lovestruck fool, but you were pretty sure you were still hallucinating.

“Come on, have a slice with me. I’m pretty sure I didn’t leave the best first impression. Wouldn’t want you to think I’m a dick or anything.”

Oh, you’ve definitely been thinking bout his dick, alright.

You pinched your eyes shut, batting away those unsightly intrusive thoughts with a theoretical bat.

“Oh no! That’s for you, Sy. I wouldn’t want to --”

“You wouldn’t,” he insisted, offering his hand up to you. You bit the inside of your cheek before you took it, letting out a shuddering breath as its warmth engulfed you.

Thinking he was just gonna hold your hand, you gasped in shock when he suddenly pulled you closer and placed his hand on the end of your spine instead. Urging you on the small hill where his house laid and making you go insane from the warmth oozing out from him and piercing through your clothing.

Why is he so freaking warm?!

“I --” your words got stuck in your throat when you realized he was hunching down to hear you speak, your face suddenly a bit too close to breathe. “I just wanted you to enjoy it. After all that you did for my dad when I wasn’t around.”

Your father had talked your ear off about how helpful the burly man was around his small farm, especially when it comes to any form of heavy lifting or complicated machinery. He even checked up on him a few times a month just to see if there was anything that needed to be fixed around the house.

He hummed, accepting your gratitude “I’d enjoy it more with a pretty lady, doncha think?”

Despite your embarrassment, you couldn’t help but giggle. Accidentally nudging him with your shoulders as you walked but it only made him chuckle.

“I’ll get some drinks.” he pulled the seat in front of his porch, even spreading a dark blue blanket on your seat.

Not wanting to invade his privacy by snooping through the inside of his cosy-looking home through the windows, you instead enjoyed the company of his dog, who had gently nudged your leg with her wet nose, dropping her squeaky ball in your hand clearly wanting you to throw it.

“Go catch!”

You laughed as you watched her scamper down the steps of the hell in neck-breaking speed, immediately getting distracted by a flock of birds that were bothering the horses on the other side of the farm.

Breathing in the fresh air, you couldn’t help but appreciate the view in front of you. The bright sun and the fresh rain from the night before made everything look sparkling. The wildlife, the sound of the running horses, and the warm breeze of the wind made you smile. You may not be in Los Angeles anymore, but you probably wouldn’t trade this view for the world.

It was no wonder the man has become a hermit, you would be too if you had a paradise like this at your front porch.

The clack of two glasses filled with ice brought your attention back to him, perking up and watching as he sat opposite you. He poured the milk in both your glasses before sliding the fuller one to you.

He whistled in appreciation when he finally removed the handkerchief that covered the blueberry cheesecake you had woken up at 5 am for just to get the freshest batch first.

"Here, let me," you offered, taking the knife from him and focusing on giving the two of you equal slices.

“This shit’s gonna make me lose my figure.”

His foul mouth made you chuckle.

“Well, I like my men big,” you answered mindlessly, knife freezing mid-air when you finally realized what you said.

Before you could sputter out another roll of apologies he grinned, stabbing his own slice of the cheesecake and almost salaciously placing the entire thing in one bite. The excess cream on the side of his lips made you lick your own.

“Well, in that case,” he pulled the fork from his mouth, that irritatingly tempting smirk still present in his face, as he pierced another hefty slice and placed it back on his clean plate. “I better eat up.”

A tense silence followed suit as the two of you stared, though he was still so cockily munching on his piece making you break the eye contact first.

“Charmer,” you grinned, breaking the eye contact before you burn from inside out.

It was surprisingly comfortable to sit in silence with him. The white noise of nature doing enough of a good job to fill in what should’ve been awkward moments. It wasn’t until that you had finished your piece and he had bulldozed at least half the cake that you met his eye again.

“Thanks for this,” he rubbed his scruff. “It was good. You’re a good baker.”

“It’s no problem, Sy --”

You jumped at the sudden cracking noise in the distance. The neighs of the horse at the faucet which supplied all their water breaking made Sy sigh. “Goddamnit -- Layla! I told you to stop fucking around with that!”

Layla, the pregnant mare in question, scoffed in an offence like she hadn’t been caught red-handed.

“I’m sorry, I gotta fix that before it floods into the barn.”

“It’s alright! I’ll just clean up a bit.”

He stopped on his track to look back at you.”You sure? I’ll owe you one.”

“It’s no problem, Sy!” you shoo-ed him off. “I’ll wait for --”

“Great! Thank you, honey. Just go inside, you’ll easily find the kitchen.”

Honey.

You hoped you stopped your flattered grin quick enough that he didn’t see it. However, before you could think too much of it you realized … you were supposed to go into his house!

You let out a breath of air, hyping yourself up while trying not to look over-eager to go inside his house and look like an obsessive freak. The wooden door opened with a gentle push, which you were thankful for as you balanced the leftover cake in one hand and the plates and cups in the other.

Hurriedly, you walked towards the open kitchen, placing the cake in the surprisingly massive fridge filled to the brim with fruits and necessities before placing the plates in the sink, refusing to let your eyes wander no matter how much your brain begged you to.

Thankfully, the front of the sink had a window that showed you an amazing view of Sy’s backyard that was perfectly maintained and filled with vegetables. A giggle pushed through your lips as you imagined Sy’s massive hands trying to gently tend to the fragile plants.

“What’s funny?”

“Ah!” you jumped at the sudden voice behind you, greeted by Sy behind you, leaning on the kitchen island with his arms crossed and a brow raised.

“Uh, nothing,” you stammered, placing the last glass on the drier. “I-I like your garden.”

He cocked his head as if to see what was so interesting about it but he said nothing.

You surprisingly got used to his silence. “It must taste so good to eat something unprocessed.”

“Yeah,” he answered, sitting beside you near the sink. “You should try it.”

“I can cook but it’s tough waking up so early to get the freshest batch in the market,” you rambled. “And LA’s fresh produce is so expensive.”

“Aren’t you some big-shot model?”

You flushed, wondering if he meant that as a compliment or a diss. It was still quite embarrassing every time someone reminds you of your different persona in the city.

“I don’t eat that much there anyway.”

The expression on his face told you that your statement seemed to bother him which made you uncomfortable. The slip-up was an inside joke with your peers back in LA but it would seem dark humour was not as acceptable back here. “All right! I won’t impose any more than I did. Thank you so much for inviting me, Sy! It was nice to catch up with you.”

You waved quickly, turning on your feet and running away.

“Stupid, stupid,” you grumbled, as you walked back to your house.

It was going so good!

You just had to yap your mouth away and bring down the entire conversation to hell’s ass.

Shaking your head, you sighed. Nothing can be done about it now. You’d rather cherish the small happy moments you spent with the brooding man than focus on the depressing end.

Sy’s vegetable garden had made a stronger craving fester inside you than you thought.

That’s how you found yourself a week later, waking up before the sun rose and walking back to the farmer’s market in the middle of the town despite your body fighting you every step of the way.

There were surprisingly fewer people present, but it was still crowded enough to have that comforting noise all around. A warm feeling festering in your stomach as you hopped from one stall to another trying to put together a meal in your head.

“Sy! I didn’t expect to see you here!”

A woman’s voice made you look back, eyes widening when you saw her latching on to Syverson’s arms.

“Riva,” his gruff voice cut through the other noises of the crowd, making you snicker when you traced the slightest bit of poorly-covered irritation in his tone.

“It’s been so long since we hung out! Are the horses better company than me?” she teased. There was a nagging feeling of jealousy in your chest but watching as an outsider made you cringe. You could still remember being in her shoes, desperately buttering up to the most eligible bachelor, hoping it would elevate your status a bit more in your social circles.

Maybe that’s why you feel sympathetic.

“Honey.”

When you looked back up the couple are strangely looking in your direction. Just to be sure you turned to see if there was something interesting behind you but there was nothing but nagging vendors and shopping townsfolk.

“I thought I was picking you up at your house?”

You gasped when you felt a warm hand wrap around your waist, only to be greeted with the piercing blue eyes of Sy himself.

“S-Sy,” you were too stunned at first but thankfully the pieces still snapped together when you saw the gaping mouths of the crowd of girls behind you. “I … I felt like going for a walk.”

You eyed the group behind you, wincing at their suspicious glares towards you. It would seem you would have to up your game if you want to be believable. “And I wanted to surprise you, bear!”

He seemed tickled at the new nickname, leaning down to wrap you in a loose hug, his beard making a jolt journey to your legs.

“Well, consider me pleasantly so,” Your head wanted to explode from embarrassment. Even more when he suddenly leaned in to graze his lips at your forehead. “Let me carry that for you.”

Looking back, you tried to wave goodbye to the woman, hoping to salvage her pride but she just rolled her eyes which made you pout.

“Don’t mind her,” he gruffed, rubbing his thumb on the edge of your spine as if to comfort you.

When you were farther away from the unpleasant crowd you turned to his nonchalant face. “I don’t remember you being this jumpy from the ladies, bear.”

He smirked, leading you carefully to a vegetable stall and suddenly placing all sorts of products in your tote bag. “Lot can change in a few years, bug.”

You rolled your eyes, frowning when you realized what he was oding “why are you putting stuff in my bag.”

“Cause you’re having a meal with me.”

You blinked, your brain short-circuiting enough that he was able to pull you into another stall, this one with different types of homemade wines sold by a pleasant-looking lady.

“What can I offer you, young lovebirds?” she asked, eager to rope another set of customers into her pocket.

Sy turned to you, a gleam in his eyes that you haven’t seen before suddenly present, “Wha’d you say, honey? Red or white?”

The drive to his place was surprisingly comfortable, the two of you making pleasant small talk and laughing at you as you tried to sing to old country songs that were playing randomly on radios while he prepared the promised meal to you like a proper housewife.

Though he just smirked when you called him that.

“You haven’t changed, Sy,” you chuckled, hooking your hair behind your ear like a giddy schoolgirl. The wine and full stomach had made you tipsy enough to make your tongue loose. “I can’t believe I forgot how dangerous you were.”

His chest rumbled then, finishing the last mouthful of wine in his glass before laughing at your accusation,” ‘m a Southern gentleman, ma'am. I don’t know what’s all this talk about being dangerous.”

Your mouth dropped, not believing his audacity to deny all the girls who have tripped over their own tails chasing him all around the campus. “Oh please,” you point your fork at him in an accusatory manner, “don’t think lil’ old me didn’t hear about Charmaine and Analeah’s fight over you being their prom date!”

He shrugged, not bothering to defend himself. Instead, he started to clean up the table and walked towards the sink. You followed suit and sat at the counter just beside the sink as he turned the radio louder, the familiar voice of a certain country starlet that had joined the social scene of LA at the same time as you echoing in his cabin.(You couldn’t help but wonder if her transition into the pop genre had been as smoothed as she had planned.)

“Who did you go with, by the way? I wasn’t able to see cause freshmen were the committee so I was running around backstage.”

“I didn’t go,” he placed the last plate on the sink before he walked to where you were seated. Making you hold your breath as he placed his arms on each side of your legs, effectively caging you on the counter.

You gasped. “What?! Why?!”

So, that was the reason he didn’t win prom king. You had even ignored your responsibilities for a few seconds hoping to peek a glance at him on the stage.

“Didn’t get a date.”

“That’s impossible.”

“One might say,” he chuckled, this time leaning in closer till you swear you could feel his every breath, “but the date I wanted was a bit too busy running around backstage.”

Your jaw dropped in shock, taken off guard at such words. The wine had made you a bit more loopy, which is why you couldn’t hold back your laugh at his teasing.

“You fucking charmer!”

His deep laughter made your stomach tumble and fall, but despite trying to playfully push him away he remained still as a wall.

Wiping away the tears from your eyes, you looked up at him and noticed the intensity behind his eyes making you gasp quietly.

“Sy.”

“Hmm?”

You let out a shaky breath, the noises of nature outside suddenly more apparent, the love song playing tuning out the rapid beating of your heart as you finally realized the position you were in.

“Can I tell you a secret?”

You shivered when he pressed himself closer to you, "I'll keep it to my grave, bug."

You gulped, "I think I've wanted to kiss you for years now."

You had expected him to laugh, to give you the same irritated look he gave the women in the market but his eyes seemed to have gotten more intense.

A deep rumble in his chest had you chasing your breath.

The same rumble in his chest let you know of his answer. “I'm sorry for making you wait then.”

Like a stalking beast, his quiet growls made a familiar warmth journey throughout your body. Especially when he parted your mouth with a gentle press of his thumb, his lips slotting into yours and immediately making you moan.

The plates on the counter rattled when the force of his body pushed into you, guiding you to grind in his growing bulge. You could barely keep up with him, surrendering and letting him devour your lips, his tongue licking every crevice sometimes guiding yours into his so he can suck it in his mouth with a throaty growl.

When the two of you parted a string of saliva hung and broke, making a stringy mess down your chin which he wiped with his thumb and making you suck it clean.

"Stay for dinner?"

You'd have stayed forever.

A routine between the two of you was surprisingly easily established.

Every morning, you’d cook your father breakfast and help around the farm if it was needed and by 9 am, Sy would pick you up and take you to his home where you would watch him care for the different horses he had adopted out of slaughterhouses. Depending on both your moods, by 11 you would either start cooking for lunch or just drive to town to eat.

By then, the world was at the palm of your hands.

The rest of the day was usually spent on Sy teaching you how to properly ride a horse, sometimes you’re riding … something else. But the repetitive nature somehow never bored you. In fact, it was almost pleasant to have such a predictable day by day.

“Why’d you come back?”

The rough tendrils of hair gently interrupted your musings.

“Hmm?”

Sy pressed kisses on the length of your spine, his untamed beard slightly irritating each inch of skin. With a grunt, you let yourself be turned on your back, cupping his face to press another passionate kiss on his lips.

He hovered over you, his scarred chest covered up by the puff of fur covering the expanse of it. You couldn’t help but run your hands across it.

“You somehow had managed to let me yap out all my stories from childhood yet you keep everything about you a secret,” he whispered in your ear, though the light tone told you he wasn’t mad at the slightest. “You play an unfair game, woman.”

A smile played on your lips which made an adorable frown you were all too familiar with appearing on his forehead.

“I …” he leaned in closer, letting you run your hands on his hair as if he knows it brings him comfort. “I think I wasn’t strong enough for the city.”

His frown deepened but he remained quiet. You were thankful for that.

“It was beautiful, really. I was mesmerized,” your eyes grew distant as you remembered the skyscrapers, the crowd that always had somewhere to be, the car rides to glamorous parties with your glamorous friends and the facade they wear to make the rest of the world envy them. You remember participating willingly, getting drunk of the luxury and laughter yet somehow feeling empty every time you came back to your apartment.

You thought you had gone insane, your manager also thought so.

A couple of dozen therapists and dietitians later and yet they repeated the same old sentiment: you were looking for something. Something to fill up the hole that couldn’t be patched by fame and money.

“I had a breakdown,” it was embarrassing to admit but his warm gaze let you know he wasn’t the type to judge. “I was no longer eating and had trouble sleeping. I was too tired to meet with my friends and … and I had this feeling of loneliness growing a hole inside me even though I was with wonderful people who did their best to treat me well.”

You could still feel that gnawing feeling in your chest, fear creeping up on you as you remembered the dark place you never wanna go back in ever again.

“And then suddenly, everything wasn’t enough. And I wasn’t enough,” it was quiet, the air heavy with your words, but he somehow made you comfortable enough that you still spilt everything out. “, every time I look at the mirror I wasn’t pretty enough, or skinny enough, or popular enough, And I tried, and tried so hard to not drown in that feeling but in the end … in the end, I couldn’t.”

You hadn’t realized a tear had fallen on the side of your face until a rough thumb wiped it away. Realizing you might have just scared him with your issues you tried to laugh it off but his face remained grim.

However, to your surprise he suddenly stood up, giving you no time to appreciate his glorious nude form when he leaned down on the bed and pulled out a chest before rummaging through it.

When he finally sat back down on the bed, he was carrying a magazine, flipping through it before pointing at a certain page. Sitting up, you peered at it, eyes widening when you realized it had been one of your first photoshoots for a small clothing brand. You had forgotten all about it as you had only done it for some pocket money but it would seem someone had managed to keep that relic hidden all these years.

“W-Why’d you …”

“Your father nearly talked everyone’s ear off when you first got your gig. Even gave me a copy when I helped fix up his old tractor.”

You tried not to cringe but he just chuckled at your efforts. “Did you like modelling?”

Despite the horrors that came after it you couldn’t deny it had been enjoyable. To be able to wear and pose with the art the designers came up with was so fulfilling. To see your beauty among the beauty of their works made you feel empowered even if just for a moment.

You nodded.

“Well,” he pressed a soft kiss on your shoulder, running his lips to your neck. “I don’t know how much it’ll count coming from me but I think you looked beautiful. I see you in the billboards too when I visit the city and regret the day I didn't snatch you up when we were teenagers and you were still ain't out of my league.”

You cackled, sliding back into the bed as you tried to hide the flattery written all over your face.

“It’s true,” he continued, grabbing your waist and dragging you in the middle of his spacious bed.

“You snatched me up now, didn’t you?”

He hummed, a predatory glare in his eyes as he ran his eyes on your nude form, your intimate areas barely covered by the blankets he was slowly pulling undone. His shiny necklace hanging from your own neck, the one he gave to you when you had shyly asked him if the two of you were really officially dating. Now you and everyone else can see that you were his woman.

“I did, didn’t I?” his rough hands flicked away the strands of hair in your face until you were bare all for him. “I’d beat up those city boys with a stick too if they think they can still hang around you.”

You grinned, running your hand on his hair, eyes staring at each other as if trying to memorize each detail for yourself.

“What about you?”

He raised a brow.

“I know who you are, Mr.Bigshot-Equestrian. Did you forget you were in that fancy Forbes list?”

He had the nerve to give you an impish smile, like a child getting caught with his hands on a lie. Your friends in the city used to gush about him, the big hunk of the man who has managed to obliterate the competition and suddenly rise in the bachelors of the social scene despite never showing his face in any public events. He wasn’t the richest but he was definitely the most enigmatic. Imagine your surprise when they pointed at your senior posing with a horse and showcasing the field where he raised Olympic-level horses with the same rigid expression on his face as he does after each football game.

“I guess I should thank you for not calling me out the first time,” he hummed, rubbing his prickly cheek in your stomach making you giggle.

You didn’t want to impose in case, just like you, he came back home to hide away from your clearly similarly complicated lives.

“I love my job, I do. I mean, the company had uncontrollably gotten big before I knew what even happened but I didn’t want to lose the reason why I chose that profession in the first place, y’know?" He explained, this time playing with your fingers as he laid his head in your chest. “So I came back home and bought out all the slaughterhouses in the state. Most of them had been rehomed and adopted now but I’m still left with that mean one Layla till she gives birth.”

You had not been expecting that. It made your reasons so selfish.

“That’s … that’s really noble of you.”

“Bah,” he waved his hand, not accepting your compliment. “I’m just like you. Running away from my problems when it gets a bit too much. I think we owe ourselves to be cowards every once in a while.”

His answer carried warmth that you hadn’t felt in a long time. A form of relief that assured and placated your demons.

He was so kind, a bit rough on the edges, sure, but so, so beautifully kind. And he makes you feel good and accepted for who you are and who you weren't able to become.

It makes you want to stick beside him and never let go.

Cause you could get used to this feeling for a long, long time.

Sy had never thought of getting married.

At least not for a while now.

Sure his pops had ingrained in his head how to treat a woman properly and the importance of making the wife happy but he had never forced his son to follow his traditional values to the dot.

He knew his old man had feared for him even on his deathbed that his son would be alone but despite that, he just never really found the right woman that he deemed agreeable enough to spend a lifetime together.

Then his sudden and unwilling rise to society had made him a target for vultures of women whose eyes shined when they realized his massive bank account and the trust funds he could set up if they ever managed to pop out his kids. And that had just effectively and almost permanently discouraged him to enter the dating scene altogether.

“Sy! I see the lake!”

But the woman on his passenger seat might just change his mind.

“Don’t put your head out too much, honey. You might catch a stray branch in that pretty face 'a yours.”

Despite being dead centre of the social scene Syverson had loathed, you were surprisingly still the same girl in the bleachers that always managed to catch his eyes.

He had been familiar with you throughout high school, might have stolen a glance or two. But he was graduating and you had enough creepy seniors trying to get your number and be your boyfriend that he didn’t want to be just another creep on your list. So he just ignored whatever budding feelings he had and warned his group of friends to stop bothering you and let it go.

Time passed by and he suddenly saw you in every magazine and billboard all over the world as his business took him everywhere. He even bought a girlfriend the lipstick you had been advertising in some weird and silent way of supporting you.

But now, after about two years of relationship, he’s glad he no longer have to watch you from afar. Not when you sleep in his bed every night and he can finally taste your lips first thing in the morning.

“Can I go in the water first, please?” you gave him that pout that you knew would make him give you anything you wanted. He should've known his woman who had spent most of her days travelling all over the world and spending nights in the most expensive hotels, would be excited about the lake he had found while surveying a piece of land for his new barn.

When you had screeched in glee about it he had his men called early in the morning just to check and see if the lake was safe enough to swim in the first place. Thankfully, they had finished preparing it just in time as your plane landed.

“You go on, honey. I’ll just set up a bit,” he smiled, bending down a bit as you squealed so you can wrap your arms around his neck and give him a series of wet kisses. He quickly scanned his surroundings just as you were shimmying your shorts down your legs until all you had left on were those threads you called a swimsuit.

He had bought it with his own damn card with the promise that you would only wear it if he was around.

“C’mon bear!”

He smiled at you trying to playfully splash him despite not being strong enough to actually make the droplets reach him.

“Alright, alright. No need to get spunky, woman.”

Shedding his own shirt and shorts off, he dove towards where you were, grasping your outstretched hand to make you wrap your legs around his waist.

“You’re warm,” you giggled, immediately pressing kisses on his neck and jaws. The water was chilly but he just found the little bumps on your skin adorable.

“Yeah?”

She nodded, the same contagious smile in her face that was so wide it almost splits her face in half. Especially when he pressed another kiss on her soft lips, licking away the droplets that dared touch it.

“And you’re cute.”

He entertained you by giving you a headstart and trying to catch you despite the obvious gap of your skills and wingspan, swallowing your laughter when he inevitable caught you and pulled you in another makeout session.

When you were visibly shaking, Sy had carried you back into the shore and placed his flannel on you along with a towel. Thankfully, the sun had already been out and helped dry the both of you as he started on the barbeque.

"You look so hot like this."

Sy spared you a glance, smirking when he saw the fire behind your eyes as you sat prettily on the picnic table like you were the feast itself.

He lowered the heat on the grill, walking towards you where you had a freshly opened beer for him.

"You think so?" he grinned, playing along.

You nodded slowly, standing up to gently push him on the seat, Sy's crotch perking up when you suddenly knelt in between his legs and alluringly started playing with the band of his shorts.

"I think I should thank you properly," you gave him that puppy-eyed look that always brings him to his knees. "For taking such good care of me all the time."

His grip on the neck of his drink tightened. Either he is an actual pervert or your adorable face next to his bulging crotch is just painfully lewd to look at and would make any sane man painfully hard "Can I, bear?"

He pressed the bottle of the beer to his lips and drank it all in two gulps. Nearly choking when you were suddenly mouthing on his clothed cock.

Teasing minx.

"Be my guest."

You smirked then, pulling out his cock and having the nerve to press a kiss on his leaking tip just to really fuck with him.

Ah, he thought, as you finally pressed his cock into your warm mouth. His eyes zoning straight into your empty ring finger that was gripping onto the length of him.

He might have to dig out that old ring out of his old man’s chest soon.

“Hey! You’re late!”

You waved at your friend, her blonde hair bobbing up and down in excitement. Quickly flashing the hostess a smile, letting her know you wouldn’t need a separate table you pattered quickly towards your group, squealing as you hugged the woman you hadn’t seen for about half a year due to your constricting schedules.

“I missed you so much, you whore!”

You smiled and hugged and pressed air kisses on the rest of the girls in the table. Most of them were as well-known as you, the unofficial clique forming when your group kept meeting in every after-parties and gathering. You weren’t too fond of some members but most of them were pleasant and truly good friends. A little conceited and maybe a tad snobby to others but good friends nonetheless.

“Sorry bout that,” you smiled as you sat down. “New York traffic.”

The small brunch date was cute and pleasant, with small talks and updates about each other’s lives. Now that you were no longer based in New York you tend to miss out on all the juicy gossips and dramas that go down but they do their best to keep you updated despite never understanding the reason behind your big decision.

It wasn’t until you heard Taylor’s sharp gasp that the uncontrolled grin spread across your face.

“OH MY GOD!”

“Suprise?”

Your whole table immediately exploded in hysterics when they saw the shiny old-fashioned jade engagement ring that had been passed down in Syversons family for generations.

“Who is it?!”

“Is this the mystery man you’ve been dating!?”

“When did this happen?!”

You had expected this reaction but the rush of questions thrown at you still caught you off guard. Sy was never a public person despite the fame that came with his money so the two of you kept it pretty lowkey, your friends back here hadn’t even actually met yet due to your busy schedules and you just weren’t ready to share him with the world just yet.

You had moved in with him a year ago, it seemed like he was waiting for you to get used to travelling back home and New York for work before he popped the question.

“I should marry you.”

“Huh?” The pancake sat on the spatula as you froze just as you were about to flip it.

Suddenly a vintage velvet box was sliding down the breakfast bar with a shiny ring sitting prettily inside of it.

“I just think I don’t like having you cooking anyone else’s breakfast,” he rounded the corner, carrying you up until you were sitting in the counter. In your shock, you hadn’t realized that he had you locked in your seat and had already slid the ring into your finger.

“So I’m asking you to make me the luckiest fucker on this earth and marry me.”

“I think it’s about high time we meet him, noh?”

You eyed Anila, her raised brows and sharp glare had always unnerved you. She definitely had a mean streak in her, never once getting upstaged. You had a feeling she still thinks you were making up this boyfriend of 4 years just to have an excuse ready not to hang out with them.

Throughout the years you had learned to tolerate her and focus more on her good qualities but for once you wanted to have the last word.

After all, you still remember her gushing about your man a few years ago when she saw him in that Forbes magazine.

“He’s picking me up,” you smiled. “But he’s a private person so please be nice, girls.”

They had eagerly nodded but you were too busy cackling internally that you hadn’t even noticed when, twenty minutes later, their chatters suddenly stopped and they all stared at the bullish man walking towards you.

“Bug,” you nearly choked on your cup of tea when his heavy hand landed on your shoulders, his deep voice cutting through the white noise of the crowd. “Ladies.”

He clicked his tongue, grabbing a napkin and wiping your face.

“It’s real nice to meet yall,” he flashed that charming smile that had them all opening their mouths to say something yet nothing came out. Anila flashed you a look -- one of shock, irritation and one that told you she was impressed. “But gotta take my woman for the taste testing.”

You win this time around.

“Okay …” someone managed to reply but Sy was already helping you up your seat.

“I think I’ll be seeing yall in the wedding?”

They nodded and it makes you snicker.

“I’m still not sure, bear. I think they’re very busy.”

All of them gawked, Anila even playfully throwing a napkin in your direction but it just makes you laugh. “You best be in your best behaviour then, don’t you girls? Send your sizes to my secretary.”

“You all have a good one.”

You nearly pranced on your way to Sy’s car. “Had your fun, honey?”

“Tons,” you grinned, tipping on your toes to press a kiss until you heard the cameras snapping and you knew the secret was out.

You sighed, the mood now sour.

“Hey,” he opened the door, helping you secure your seatbelt. When you looked up he had that soft smile on his face that told you everything was fine. “I love you.”

It was fine.

He was willing to go through this all with you.

You had talked about it, going public. It was your decision to keep your relationship a secret and for the most part, you had been successful. But he had let you know his love wasn't that fragile. That it can withstand whatever the world decides to throw at it. And that if you could no longer take it he would easily swoop in, take you away, and forbid the rest of the world from touching you ever again.

It was going to be worth it.

Your love was going to be worth this.

You smiled, pressing another kiss to his bushy lips. (You had begged him on your knees that he doesn’t shave it for the wedding and that had been worth it too.)

“I love you too, Sy”

“Home sweet home, honey.”

You gasped at the house Sy had given to you as a wedding gift. It wasn’t a secret that he had been working on it but he had simply made you agree on which designs you prefer and what furniture you wanted in where before promising to reveal it to you if you don't run out on him at the wedding.

What he didn’t show you was how massive the property was.

“Oh my god,” you pressed your face on the window, still not believing your eyes that the cottage-inspired mansion is now officially yours.

“You didn’t sign a prenup so that’s all yours,” he joked, laughing when you gave him a glare.

“I’ll milk you for all your worth, Syverson, don’t you dare,” you threatened when he opened the door for you.

“Yes, ma'am.”

The house was beautiful. Homey enough to make it feel like a home but wide enough that it doesn’t feel stuffy. He had immediately directed you towards the third floor that had the master’s bedroom, showing you the walk-in closet you had been dreaming about with the view of the mountains behind you.

“You aren’t as sneaky as you think, bear,” you snickered, pulling on his tie as you walked back to the bed.

“Sue me.”

Your giggle was cut off by his lips moulding into yours, the warmth of his chest filling you as he removed his shirt and bunched up your satin silk to your chest, too impatient to actually pull it over your head.

Hot breath escaped you when he harshly bit on the underside of your breasts, his sharp canines running on your sensitive nipples until he had you mewling.

“God, you’re irresistible.”

“More, Sy. Please, I need more. I need you,” you gasped, drunk on the excruciating pleasure.

The weight of the events that transpired finally settled in you. You were married. You were married to the love of your life. And right now, he was worshipping your body like it was going to be the last thing he does.

And you need him.

All of him.

“I’m right here, baby,” he mumbled in your pubic bone, slipping off the stringy lace thong off to lay you bare to him. “I’ll take care of you.”

Sy had always been warm.

Every summer you roll yourself off of him due to the intense heat but he refuses and just grabs you back into his arms until you got used to it.

But you doubt the fire you feel when his mouth covers your core was something you could easily get used to.

He growled when you instinctively gripped his hair, finding something to keep you tethered as the pleasure he gives you rapidly makes you lose your mind. Especially when his bruising grip on your thighs forbids you from moving an inch off his torturous tongue.

“Sy, aah, i’m close!"

Not answering, he instead pushed your legs further until you were bent in half, pressing his rough thumb on your clit and spearing the meat of his tongue straight into your pussy and making you scream.

“Oh god, oh god. It’s so good -- I,” your mumblings was cut off when he increased the pressure on his thumb on your clit and made you see white.

“AAAH!” your legs shook, your entire body trembling from pleasure, and your eyes rolling in the back of your head. Your scream was almost embarrassing when it echoed in the rest of your empty home through the wide-open door.

Before you could think too much about it the perspiration in your chest was suddenly licked making you gasp in sensitivity.

“Y-You’re a dog,” you pouted.

“No,” this time he pulled on your dress until the only thing you were wearing was the shining ring on your finger that tied you to him forever. “I’m your husband.”

“You think you like it here?”

You turned to see Sy in a barely buttoned shirt and loose shirts, carrying two cups of coffee and a whole blueberry cheesecake the both of you had stolen from the venue of your wedding last night in a tray.

Rolling your eyes at his nerve to ask if you liked the mansion you now like to call your forever home placed in the area where his humble cottage once stood, you took one of the cups offered to you and turned your head to give him an early morning kiss.

It’s gated now, and a lot more secure, but it was still the same view that had made you fall in love with this piece of land in the first place. You know your neighbours must think the both of you are crazy and obnoxious for building your dream home in this desolate town but you wouldn’t have it any other way.

This was where the two of you fell in love, after all.

“It will do,” you smiled, standing for a moment to let him sit in your chair while you place yourself in his lap despite the excess space in the little gazebo Sy had built for you after you mentioned you liked to watch the sun rise and set in this area.

You had just spent your first night with him in your home and you could swear you had never felt so at peace.

(Or maybe he had just fucked you into a coma but that’s nobody’s business.)

“That’s an awful lot of bedrooms on the second floor, Sy,” he tried to act nonchalant, humming to confirm that your observation was in fact correct. “You plan to make me fat with your babies?”

He buried his face in your neck, his laughter tickling you. “I’d like to make some little gremlins, for sure.” he patted the meat of your thigh gently in the beat of a song you weren’t sure existed.

You smiled, chest fluttering at such a thought. Little Syversons.

“I think we should wait a bit though,” you turned to him, eyebrows raised. “I don’t feel like sharing you for a while.”

That made your grin even wider, your quiet laughter at his undying possessive tendencies getting cut short with every kiss you pressed on each corner of his face. Being alone together for a while sounded nice, it was something you haven’t quite had and had always craved for years. Daydreaming about the day you will finally spend your every day with the love of your life.

And it’s finally here.

He finally fulfilled his promise and your dreams of making you a home.

The chirping of the birds and the early morning breeze making the trees dance was almost therapeutic. His large frame protected you from the chill, as the two of you stared at everything and nothing at once.

You were home now.

“Neighh!” followed a crash and water spilling over the freshly placed hay on the east side of your estate. An old cranky mare screaming in offence at the consequences of her actions made Sy groan and you laugh.

“Goddamn it,” Sy growled. “Layla! Stop fucking around with your bucket!”

Courtship Rules

For the lovley @beansapalooza for some alien fucking! For Science!

Summary: You are a scientist on a team of four sent to live on a planet where xenomorphs inhabit. You are all to have your studies on them, everyone has their own thing. You? Well. You study their breeding habits. Perhaps getting a little TOO close to that knowledge. But, what better way to study than hands on? Or. In which a xenomorph recognizes you from its past and believes you to be its mate. Who are you to refuse getting stuffed full of eggs? All in the name of science, of course.

Reblogs > Likes. Minors and ageless blogs will be blocked, have your age in your bio to interact!

Fandom: Aliens - Aliens VS Predators

Relationship: Xenomorph/Reader

Warnings: NSFT/R18+, Reader is gn and has a vulva + is chubby, oviposition/ovipositors, knotting, brief brief mentions of mild gore that’s canon typical, breeding, you get stuffed with alien eggs!

Words: 8.7k

_________

The mission relayed to you had been one of great importance. But it came with great dangers, dangers that you were all aware of.  

There were four of you total, almost all scientists in your own regard. A handful of teams had come into contact with the creatures you were now studying. And all those teams had wound up dead.  

One of those teams, years ago who had first come into contact with them, didn’t know what they were up against or what they were bringing back. Another team had been sent to wipe them out, claiming them to be parasites, with only one survivor to return to tell the tale. Another team had been sent out as a means to take one or two back to study in cages on their ships, once again did not go well. Another team sent to explore their home planet, weapons in hand because exterminating the species had been the only thing on their mind. Then another team, and another, and another…  

Other teams were documented, more and more who wanted to quietly try and study or eliminate them. All failed. All dead.  

~Rest under the cut~

Keep reading

gesture.

❅ details: i. hajime × reader; 507 words; fluff;

❅ warning/s: none

❅ request: “. . .can I request Prompt C, 3 with Iwaizumi for the drabbles?” - anon

❅ note: yo. i hope you won’t mind if i made another half-filo iwazumi. i know how to cook pancit, but i’m not sure if it’s the same as how it was cooked in other countries. 😅

❅ now playing: perfect day by holley maher

❅ masterlist | 200 followers event (slow update)

"Chicken liver?" Hajime asks while watching you cook one of the Filipino dishes he taught you before. "You don't have to add them, you know?" he says while leaning against the kitchen counter after he arranging the plates on your dinner table. "With or without that, your pancit tastes delicious."

You shook your head as you saute the chicken liver along with the other ingredients. "But chicken liver makes it tastier," you argued before pouring a ladleful of soy sauce into the wok. Then, you rinse the noodles (bihon and canton) before putting it into the mixture.

Hajime wrapped his toned arms around your waist, resting his chin on your shoulder. "I love you," he whispered as he placed a tender kiss on your shoulder. "You're a very amazing woman and I can't fully express how lucky I am to meet and marry someone like you." You leaned against him while wearing the sweetest smile on your lips.

"I could say the same thing—"

"Iwa-chan~ eh?"

You and your husband were brought back to reality when you heard Touru's sweet voice. "Ah, Tōru! I'm glad you can make it," you said, smiling at your husband's bestfriend before turning your attention back to the dish you were making. Hajime unclasped his arms from you before making his way towards his friend. "You were in Argentina when they last gathered here," you noted.

"That is unfortunate," he whined while pulling Hajime into a tight hug. You could see the satisfactoin on Tōru's face as he sees how Hajime reacts to his actions. "I've always wanted to. . .ah, Iwa-chan! See them once in a while," he said while tackling your husband.

You chuckled at their childish antics while finishing the dish. You were transfering the cooked pancit into a serving bowl when Hiro and Issei arrived. They placed the drinks and other snacks they've brought before tackling the two dorks lying on your floor.

You could hear your husband's complain, Tōru's whining, Hiro's laugh, and Issei's teasing. "Kids, let's eat," you said after settling the bowl on the table. "You can crush them later," you added with smile.

Issei and Hiro immediately stood and made their way towards the table, sitting on their usual seats. Tōru helps Hajime to stand before they made their way to the table. Your husband placed enough amount of pancit on your plate before picking the chicken liver from your plate.

"Eh? Do you love chicken liver that much, Iwa-chan?" Tōru asks.

"Shut up," your husband grumbled before placing the last piece of chicken liver from your plate to his. He kissed your lips before putting some pancit on his plate. You could feel your face and ears heat up while you took a forkful of pancit into your mouth.

It was an eventful night filled with warmth and stories from Tōru, Hiro, Issei, and of course from your husband. Ah, you wonder if this could happen few times a year.

❅ taglist: @haikyuu-ink ; @kenchiko ; @agaassi ; @lovetsuki ; @sadsugarplumm ; @yams046 ; @namyari ; @thatnikkixx ; @k-eijiakaashi ; @akaashit-baeji ; @thatasiang1rl ; @starfleetakaashi ; @stcrryskies ; @kunimwuah ; @shou-kunn ; tba (send an ask or dm if you’d like to be added/removed!)

For some odd reason I want to write a book about this prompt and add other pantheons then add science fiction mainly due to the fact it's been two centuries in the future

After you and Death had a bad break up, they told you they would never come back to you. Two centuries later and, true to their word, they still haven’t come for you.

My oc Alistair hates being called liz or lizzie, she just hates it, but if you want your arm amputated then, sure you can call her that.

Are there any names (nicknames, full names, etc.) that your OC hates to be referred to as?

IDK why but i love this shit

One of many good and wise quotes from Brooklyn Nine Nine

Update: Here is probably the pic that inspired the artist