–batfam x batsis!reader(platonic obviously) headcanons
Synopsis: you got into a fight at your new school. Your family reacts in a... variation of ways.
A/n: first time writing hcs... the reactions of the characters are based off my version of batsis!reader I have in mind from other fics I've already written. English is not my first language. Enjoy!!!
Bruce Wayne
When he got the call that his daughter had gotten into a fight, he was taken by surprise.
Bruce could've expected this from his other kids (Dick and Jason) when they were your age. (Because Tim was just a few months older than you). But he didn't expect you, out of all people, to actually get into a fight.
He knew you could fight. He'd seen you in the manors training room late at night, practising punch combinations and hitting the punching bag like your life depended on it. He was aware of your ability at that. But, usually, fighters like that did not go around getting into fights if it wasn't strictly necessary. He knew this better than anyone.
When he entered the principals room, he took in your appearance. Messy hair, a bloody nose, split knuckles... then he looked at the other kid, and felt something strangely like pride swell in his chest before forcing himself to stay serious. The boy looked as if he'd been to hell and back. His eye was black, both his nostrils were still bleeding, and his face was full of bruises. Some still forming.
You looked unbothered, but it gave you away the fact that your hands were still shaking. From adrenaline and hitting repeatedly.
He sat next to you, and gave you a reassuring squeeze on the shoulder.
After getting out of the building, you explained to him the situation. He understood, and assured you it was all right. He only warned you to not get caught hitting someone next time.
Jason Todd (and Dick)
In normal circumstances, you wouldn't just have dropped by Jason's apartment without telling him. But staying in the manor meant having to deal with Dick asking a shit ton of questions, Tim's silent worried gaze and Damian's witty comments.
And you really didn't want to patch yourself up alone.
You knew Jason would not force you to speak. He would help you clean the blood, and offer a place to stay if the outside world was too loud. That is all you needed at the moment.
You stood outside and knocked on the door. You heard rustling inside, muffled voices. The door slid open.
A red-headed man stood holding the door open, with a beer in his hand. For a moment, you stood staring at each other. You realised then, that you didn't even brush your hair nor clean your own blood from your face.
To not make it awkward any longer, you spoke to the guy.
"Is Jason home?"
"Uhm yeah- wait a sec"
He looked back to the couch, and Jason looked to the door. When he saw you, he stood up and walked to the door.
"What happened to you, kid?" He scoffed "you look awful"
You didn't respond, and he could recognise himself for a moment in you. The same quiet regret and stubbornness.
"Come in"
.....
"So let me get this straight" The guy hanging out at Jason's, Roy, spoke, "Bat adopted another kid"
You were sat on the kitchen counter, Jason was bandaging your bloody knuckles.
"Is that your blood?" Jason asked, ignoring Roy. You looked at your other hand.
"Ehhm- I don't think so" you srhugged "It's probably from the other guy's nose"
"Well shit" Roy mumbled "you beat him up good, huh?"
"Well, at least I tried to" you replied "But yeah, I guess so"
Jason finished bandaging your knuckles, then desinfected a really ugly looking bruise on your cheek.
"Does B know?" Jason questioned.
You scoffed, "Who do you think the school called, huh? Damian?"
"Okay, fair"
Roy laughed a bit, and Jason just glared at him.
From the kitchen table, Jason's phone rang.
Roy looked over to see who was calling, and turned with a smirk "It's good ol' Nightwing"
"Pass me the phone" Jason walked to where Roy was standing.
He pressed the green button on the screen, and Dick's voice was heard trough the speaker in Jason's beat up phone.
"Hi, Jay" his usually happy voice was laced with worry "Is-" he said your name with a empathic voice. Big brother worry "- by any chance at yours? Do you know where she is?"
Jason responded immediately "I have no idea" he knew better than to just give you away like that. If you had come to his apartment out of all places, you probably did not want to be found.
Still, Dick was asking out of pure courtesy. "Yeah, sure. I know she's there. Bruce tracks everyone's phones." he hesitated for a moment "I just wanted to ask if she was okay"
Dick ended up convincing Jason to let him in. Of course he did.
He gave you a big hug and asked if you were okay. Kinda offended you didn't seek him first, but deep down understood you.
You ended up watching a movie with them (Roy too because he had nothing else to do)
Rickon hates the idea of being a big brother. At first, when Cregan and Targ!wife told him about a baby growing inside mama's belly, who would soon play with him and see him as a guide, the idea seemed fantastic to him—a baby to have as a partner in mischief.
But the servants talk, they talk around a three-year-old boy, believing he doesn't really understand their words. Oh, but he's such a clever little pup. He understood everything perfectly. They're not going to love him anymore!
They say the baby is his parents' first child, that Targ!wife must be ecstatic about her own first little boy, that she'll be a mother now, and other such things, all wrapped up in very complex words that he doesn't quite understand yet, but he knows they're not good. He's the one who's the first baby, she's his mother, he's her son! He doesn't want a little brother if his mother isn't going to love him anymore! 🥺💔
spoiled wife!reader and cregan stark have the cutest, chubbiest babe in all the land, with soft, stubby little legs, chubby cheeks, a pudgy tummy, and the cutest plump fingers, who gurgles and nurses all the time and wants to be held and cuddled 24/7, which makes spoiled wife!reader threaten cregan's life every day.
"i hope the frost befalls you on the morrow's hunt!!! these are YOUR genes!!! you have forsaken me!!! look at the babe!!! fat and cute!!!"
"and isn't that good, sweet wife? it's healthy!!"
"and heavy!! and greedy!!
cregan pretends to nom, bite, and eat at the plump little legs, and it makes the babe gurgle and coo and grab at his hair, patting his face cutely. he's obsessed with the adorable little thing and always nuzzles the soft tummy and chubby cheeks, pressing a flurry of kisses all over until the babe squeals with delight.
spoiled wife!reader tries REALLY hard to seem mad but melts at the sight. her whole world in one place, happy and safe. what more could she want?
After being taken under the wing of Bruce Wayne, it's difficult to adapt to a new big family, but every single member is there to help make you feel right at home.
request: here by @angst-fairy
authors note: I decided to make it into little headcanons for each batfam member's relationship with reader (Bruce, Alfred, Dick, Jason, Tim, Damian, Duke, Steph, Cass and Babs) and how they help them to adapt! THIS ONE IS HUGE
warnings: NO USE OF YN, HEAVILY UNEDITED, scars, alcohol, foster system, trauma, low self-esteem
words: 5470
dividers: by @saradika-graphics
masterlist
How did you get adopted?
Your childhood was rough. An alcoholic dad and an absent mom don’t make the greatest kid, so you’ve jumped from foster home to foster home, but with no real home at the end of the day.
Jumping from one house to another, having to adapt quickly to families who are basically strangers made you believe you didn’t have a real purpose, “if no one wants me then why be wanted at all?”. And that’s when you started stealing.
Being a stealing menace became a regular occurrence, old ladies who couldn’t run that fast, distracted teens on their phones or the casual gas station steal. Why care about these people? They never cared about me? That’s what you tell yourself every time you steal, until you get caught.
Tall man with a sharp tailored suit walking in the streets of Gotham? Easy target for you.
“Oh- sorry” you bump shoulders with the tall man.
In the second the man is processing what is happening, your hand already got his wallet from his jacket.
The wallet felt heavy on your hoodie pocket, the guy must be rich!
You were so distracted by the amount of money you might’ve gotten that you don’t see the looming shadow over you.
In a second, your hand is pulled away
“Woah- what the hell man!?” you pull your wrist back and feel your pockets, where’s the wallet?
You look up and face the man you just stole from, his wallet back in his hand.
“Uh-oh” you simply say.
You’re ready to run before he calls the cops, but he stops you.
His hand opens the wallet and takes a 100 dollar bill and hands it to you.
“What’s your name?” the man speaks for the first time.
The dark voice makes you feel small and honestly a bit scared. You take the dollar bill quickly in case he changed his mind, in return you offer him your name.
“Well, my name’s Bruce” he extends his hand and you shake it.
“You seem too young to be on the streets” the man crouches down in front of you.
“I’d rather be here than with the foster home” your eyebrows furrow immediately, a slight pout visible.
“What about your foster home?”
“No one wants a foster teen in their house, they treat me like a burden, all they want is the little foster babies to pretend to be good people” you cross your arms, you don’t want to admit it, but saying that out loud makes your eyes water.
Bruce’s hand is placed on your arm.
“I’m sure you’ll find your forever home” he gets up, offers you a tissue and, without warning, leaves.
You shrug and leave too, at least you got 100 bucks out of him.
On the other hand, Bruce is already on the phone.
“Hello, I’m Bruce Wayne, I’m looking into adopting a child at your facility”
Bruce Wayne - the first hug
The first time you entered through those heavy doors with nothing but a backpack and looking down at your own shoes instead of the mansion, Bruce’s heart breaks a little. He thought someone so young like you would be surprised at everything and nothing at the same time because curiosity is the way teenagers are supposed to grow yet you barely looked up and went straight to your assigned room.
It took a few days for you to crack and open up to him. He could see you were hesitant to ask even for the smallest thing.
The light of the office room is the only one on in the manor, Bruce is sitting by his large desk, the ticking clock strikes 12 a.m., he rubs his eyes, he should really go to bed. As he’s about to get up, he hears the slightest creak of the door.
“I know you’re there” Bruce simply states.
You open the door, in your pajamas, you sway from left to right, thinking of how to ask the question.
“...I can’t find the light to the kitchen” you mumble looking at your mismatched socks.
Your shoulders retract instantly as he gets up, you’re waiting for the yell to come “YOU’VE BEEN HERE FOR DAYS AND YOU DON 'T KNOW!?” “ARE YOU STUPID?!” but it never did.
Instead, Bruce’s hand is placed on your back ready to guide you to the kitchen.
“Let’s go”
For the first time you let your figure relax, somehow the firm hand on your back feels comforting? Is that the feeling called?
Bruce gets you a cup of water, which you drink in one go.
“Better?” he asks and takes the cup back.
“Yeah thanks” you look at him with a small smile.
That’s all that Bruce needs for his own smile to come up.
“If you need anything, just go to the office or ask Alfred”
You nod as you both head to your room. You stand at the doorway and turn around to face him.
“Good night Bruce”
Your arms wrap around his middle for a stiff unsure hug. His frame tenses at the sudden hug but adjusts easily by placing a hand on your head ruffling your hair.
“No problem kid, good night”
You back up awkwardly and enter your room.
Bruce is a man of few words, but staring at your closed door, he is truly speechless, he’s surprised in such a short amount of time, you came to trust him so easily to the point of hugging him despite your evident discomfort. He shakes his head in disbelief, he’s beyond proud of you.
Alfred Penyworth - the pea debacle
For you, Alfred was the easiest person to talk to, he was your safe corner for those first weeks of adjustment. If you had any problems, you’d head to him immediately.
Besides that, he’s very attentive.
“Dinner’s served!” he calls out.
The table is filled with what the British would call a “Sunday Roast” (even if it isn’t Sunday), it’s roasted meat and potatoes with a side of carrots and peas. Something not too complicated so Alfred could pinpoint what you liked or didn’t like.
You sit at the table, your plate already prepared for you, you murmur a small “thank you” to which Alfred nods to and goes back to the kitchen.
“Aren’t you gonna have dinner?” you suddenly ask. Alfred stops mid step and turns around with a raised eyebrow.
“Well, isn’t that how, you know…families do it?” you ask hesitantly trying to explain yourself.
Alfred doesn’t waste a second in heading back to the table and sitting across from you.
“Of course, silly me” he replies and plates his food.
The dinner is quiet, Bruce is working, the manor is empty, only the sounds of utensils hitting the plate is heard until you stop eating.
Alfred looks up at your sudden quietness. You’re holding your fork up staring at the three peas pierced on it like it’s your greatest enemy.
“Is something troubling you, dear?”
You snap out of your stare against the peas and put the fork down.
“Are these like from a can? Um- I don’t really like veggies like that”
“I can assure you these are fresh vegetables, there’s nothing wrong in trying” Alfred makes the point by taking a spoonful of peas to his mouth.
You take the fork and mimic him, it takes a second of courage, but the moment the peas hit your palate, you think it’s going to be that mushy, slimy, gross consistency, yet, you’re met with sweet peas that pop with every bite.
“That’s how they’re supposed to taste?” you ask surprised looking at him with wide eyes.
Alfred can’t help but laugh at your reaction and how fast you start to finish your plate, no pea stands a chance against your hunger.
“Calm down my dear, last thing we want is you choking on a pea” he gives you a napkin to wipe the remaining food around your mouth.
“Thanks” you say with your mouth full.
“My pleasure” Alfred replies and scoops more peas on your plate.
Now Alfred’s sure he found something you liked eating.
Dick Grayson - road trip karaoke
Although Dick is in Bludhaven most of the time for work, he makes time to come to the manor every weekend to check on everyone. This time the plans are changing.
You’re in your room, music blasting out loud so you didn’t hear the knock on the door. Dick peaks his head inside and when you notice, you turn off the volume.
“Hey kiddo, mind if I come in?”
“Sure” you sit on your bed.
“Pack up your stuff, we’re going to Bludhaven today, how’s that?” he ruffles your hair.
“We are?”
“Yup got the car ready and everything” he shows you the keys.
You don’t take too long packing your stuff into your backpack. In no time you’re hitting the road.
Dick rarely has alone time with you, you’re always surrounded by people like Damian or Tim who are more present, so he’s really going to take his time with you today.
The first couple of minutes are always awkward, the only sounds being the surrounding cars and the radio music.
“So when was the last time you stepped out of Gotham?” he asks to hopefully start a conversation.
“I never did” you look from the window to him.
“What! Then I’m glad I’m the one taking you out this time!” he chuckles.
Luckily, the weather is nice for once, the usual foggyness of the city is up, maybe the sun will come out.
Another radio song comes up.
“Wait I love this one” Dick turns the volume up and starts to sing the lyrics in an awful tone.
You can’t help but laugh.
“You’re ruining a perfectly good song!”
“Then maybe it’s better if we sing together!” Dick challenges you.
Needless to say, your roadtrip to Bludhaven turned into a karaoke session. Different songs and genres would play even ones you didn’t know the lyrics to, but what matters is that you were having fun.
You pass the WELCOME TO BLUDHAVEN sign and eventually Dick parks the car in front of an apartment complex.
“What now?” you ask him curious about his plan.
“We’re going to the park with Haley”
“Who’s Haley?”
“Oh just you wait” he says with a mischievous smile.
The moment Dick opens the apartment door you meet Haley, the three-legged pitbull. Haley immediately jumps on your lap kissing your face like you’ve known each other for years.
“That’s Haley, she loves new people as you can tell” Dick explains before taking her form you and putting her collar on.
Dick lets you walk her to the park where many other dogs were hanging out, you let her out of her leash and she runs to play with the other pups.
You settle on a bench watching Haley play around as Dick went to the ice cream truck nearby.
“Here’s yours” he passes you the ice cream cone.
“Bludhaven doesn’t really look much different than Gotham” you lick your ice cream.
“It really isn't, but at least you got out" Dick chuckles.
“Yeah and the car trip was great” your answer makes Dick laugh louder.
“We should do a real karaoke night at the manor one of these days”
“Deal” you shake hands sarcastically.
You two spend the rest of the evening planning the karaoke night for next weekend, what snacks to get, what songs to sing, who we think will sing worst or best.
Jason Todd - fast food run
Jason was definitely the one you felt less connected to, he isn’t really around and when he is it’s always short and direct conversations.
It’s 2 a.m. and you’re staring at the fridge like a pizza slice or a burger would appear out of thin air, you’re so focused you barely notice the window of the balcony open.
Only when the slight breeze from outside reaches your skin is when you turn around.
Jason puts his helmet on the counter and stops in his tracks when he notices you.
There’s an awkward silence until you speak up.
“Why did you come from the window?”
“None of your business, why are you up?”
“None of your business”
There’s another silent beat. Jason notices the fridge is open nd has an idea.
“You don’t tell Bruce and I’ll take you to McDonalds”
“Deal” you close the fridge.
In no time you were sitting in his car, burger in hand, munching away. You switch from the burger to the fries to the drink like it’s a ritual.
Jason can only watch his slight disgust at your manners as he sips his drink.
“Thanks for bringing me, I haven’t had this in a while” you speak with your full mouth
“I can tell” he grumbles.
This is the first time you have a one-on-one. He vaguely knows where you come from, a kid raised on the streets just like him, but he doesn’t know why and the question has been gnawing at him for some reason.
“So, are you adapted to the house?” he casually asks.
“Yeah, I think so, but there’s always this feeling of “oh when am I leaving this house for another?”, you know” you take another bite of your burger.
“I can kind of relate” he replies, looking in the distance.
“How?” you stop eating and look at him.
“I also was from the streets, loved my mom but she was a drug addict, so I went to the streets and started stealing”
“Yeah, my mom’s an alcoholic somehow I still miss her” you are starting to lose your appetite.
“Hey you have a family now, there’s nothing to worry about, that I can promise”
You wiped your eyes, you didn’t even know why you were crying.
“Thanks for that”
“Now, stop with the snot, it’ll get on your fries”
That pulled a laugh out of you and you continued your meal. Jason keeps an eyeful watch, there’s an ache in his heart, he knows what you’ve been through, maybe he’ll come around the manor more often.
Tim Drake - paperwork
Tim got to meet you the moment you moved in, you were quiet, kept mostly to yourself and barely talked to anyone. It was almost like you were roommates instead of new siblings.
For a while, Tim let it be that way, he thought you’d come out of your shell in your own time.
He knew you would come to him sometime, c’mon it’s basically science! You’re both around the same age, it’s normal you’d feel somewhat safe talking to him, it was bound to happen and he was right.
It’s Sunday night and Tim is sitting by the dining table, tons of paperwork around him from the Wayne Entreprises. Although he’d rather do this in his room, he needed more space for the amount of work that piled up during the week so he’s in the dining room.
He’s sipping on his third coffee when he hears the dragging of the chair next to his. He lifts his head up from the computer screen, he assumes it’s Bruce yet he’s surprised it’s you instead.
“Oh- hey, what’s up?” he asks, confused.
“Can you help me with something?”
“Sure” Tim closes his laptop and faces you.
“I’m not very techy and Bruce gave me this computer, it’s a bit embarrassing to admit, but I’ve never really had one” you confess, your leg nervously shaking under the table.
“So you need help with that?” Tim asks and you give him the laptop that’s resting on your lap.
Quickly, he puts the papers away to make space for you new laptop and starts to help you, explaining the basics of the computer. He can see your eyes moving from the screen to the keyboard, really soaking up all the information.
“And that’s it. It’s a lot right now, but with practice you can do it too.“
Tim opens his laptop once more, starting to type in his work once more.
“With practice? How?”
“Hmmm, oh- I got all this paperwork here, wanna help?”
“Sure” you straighten your back as Tim passes you a sheet of paper.
“Just type this document into Word, that’ll help”
It took a while, your fingers weren’t trained for this, unlike Tim’s, but one key at a time you eventually complete a whole page.
You sigh in relief as you analyse your document.
“You were faster than I thought! Good job” he fist bumps you.
The compliment only made you want to type more and eventually you end up doing all the paperwork with him.
“Finally we’re done! It must be past midnight right?” Tim stretches finally relaxing after all this work.
“Hmm, it’s eleven actually”
Tim’s eyes widen at how early they finished “Well we did work well together”
“Same time next week?” you ask.
“Same time next week” he grabs his coffee mug and cheers it with yours.
Damian Wayne - self defense
You’ve known Damian the longest, at first you thought he was a snob and completely annoying, but turns out he actually isn’t so bad.
You came home and snapped your door shut. Those guys in high school never let you go, they’re always making fun of you and today you came back with a bruised cheek. All you could do is run away and that’s the part that stings the most, you couldn’t defend yourself.
Damian heard the door slam and didn’t hesitate on barging into your room.
“Why don’t you slam it harder next time will y-” he stops taking the moment he sees your face, his eyebrows furrow instantly.
“What the hell happened to your face?”
“Can you just leave Damian?! I’m not in the mood for a fight” you ask him already annoyed by his presence.
“Tsk, at least did you punch back?” he asks, crossing his arms, you know he isn’t going anywhere.
“Ugh! I think I’d break my hand instead of hurting the guy back” you sit down on your bed, shoulders slumped forward.
“I just want them to leave me alone” your throat closes up.
“Then you should learn how to punch, idiot” Damian states like it’s the most normal thing in the world.
“Why don’t you demonstrate, huh?” you wipe your eyes expecting Damian to back off.
“Sure, to the gym room” he doesn’t even look back, just expects you to follow him.
In the “training room”, they called it, Damian doesn’t waste a second on punching the poor dummy to the ground.
“What the- HOW THE HELL DO YOU KNOW ALL THAT?” your arms flail around surprised.
“You should’ve known by now I do martial arts” he crosses his arms once more shaking his head in disappointment.
“Now, I shall teach you how to punch, we don’t want the Wayne name to be stained by your lack of confidence”
You’re ready to talk back, but in a sense he’s right, you should be more confident, be more sure of yourself and fight off those bullies. You can’t believe you’re saying this, but Damian’s right.
It takes no time for you to start getting the hang of punching and he even taught you how to kick a little!
“UGH-” your kick lands on the dummy’s side making it collapse to the ground.
Damian nods “Not bad for a beginner"
You can’t help but scoff a little, he really can’t compliment someone directly.
“How about the punch? You think I can defend myself?”
“I’d say so, after all I’m the one teaching you”
“I hate to say it, but you’re a good teacher Damian” you sigh in defeat.
“And I hate to say it, but you’re not half-bad at this, you could break a jaw if you wanted to” Damian immediately looks to the side pretending your compliment doesn’t faze him.
You’re speechless for once, Damian Wayne, the boy who definitely has too much ego, just complimented you.
“AW DAMIAN!” you run after him with your arms out for a hug.
“I TAKE IT ALL BACK PEASANT” he runs away from you.
Duke Thomas - question game
Duke attended the same school as you, so you would see each other very often. Besides, he was in the foster system for a while, so having him by your side felt comfortable.
Ever since you started school again, you two would have lunch together and Duke insisted on playing a little question game. Each lunch you would have to answer one question from the other person and ask one back, just one, every lunch. It’s a not so awkward way for you two to communicate and actually bond.
“So, you got your question?” Duke asks you before taking a bite of his sandwich to which you nod.
“What do you want to do after school?” you ask him.
“Like when we get home?”
You laugh a little before explaining “No, I meant in the future”
“Oh, that! It’s a tough one, people say I should be a detective, kind of fits with the whole family dynamic”
“That’s interesting, I thought you’d be like a motivational speaker or something since you’re good at talking to people and you know, helping them open up” you look down at your sandwich, hiding away the soft blush from your confession.
“Aw that’s really nice, yeah you were a tough nut to crack” Duke laughs as you groan in embarrassment.
“You can’t blame me though!” you explain to him.
“Yeah I really can’t, we’re supposed to act tough in the foster system and when you’re shown a little love, it’s hard to accept” Duke replies remembering the first time you opened up to him.
“Still can’t believe I cried like a baby to you” you chuckle and take a bite of your lunch.
“We both did ugly cry” Duke answers back.
You both laugh at the memory now, even if it was a hard time for you. Duke stares at you for a second taking in all the progress you’ve come through, he shakes his head and goes back to the game.
”My turn, what do YOU want to do in the future?”
You take a second to think.
“I never thought about that actually, I never had aspirations like that. But maybe something like Tim’s job? I really know how to use a computer now” you both laugh at your answer.
Duke smiles but doesn’t laugh, the thought of you not ever planning for the future is a sad one, because as foster kids you never know what might come next especially when you start to follow a dangerous path like you two did.
“Well whatever you end up choosing, you’ll be great at it I’m sure” he pats your shoulder reassuringly.
“I’m sure you will too” you pat his shoulder back, a gesture you both know means so much more than just a simple pat.
At some point in yours and Duke’s life you never thought you’d have a future and now talking to each other about it is really a full circle moment.
Stephanie Brown - shopping time
The only thing you were carrying every foster home you went was your backpack, an old black backpack with worn out pins and some holes here and there, but whether it looks nice or not, it held your whole life in it, hygiene supplies, documents, clothes.
Once you moved into the Wayne manor you took a long time to actually put your stuff into the big closet in your room, but somehow by putting your stuff away it only made it feel emptier.
Like any other day you were reading in your room, a book that Alfred landed to you and finally you had the chance to catch up, that is until someone came into your room.
“Hey kid do you have any hats by any chance? I don’t know where I put mine” Stephanie walks in the room like it’s nothing.
You’ve gotten used to people coming in and out of your room, it’s what families do apparently, they feel comfortable enough to share their private space, especially Stephanie you’ve come to notice. Before you can answer Stephanie though, she’s already opening your closet.
“Wait don’t-”
It’s too late, Stephanie’s jaw is on the floor, you have about 3 pairs of shirts, 2 pairs of jeans and one singular jacket in your closet.
“What?! Is this your closet?!” Stepahnie looks at you then to the closet then back at you.
“Yeah, what about it?” you mark the page you were reading, knowing you might not go back to the book any time soon.
Stephanie jumps to your bed landing beside you.
“What about it? You need more clothes! Those are worn out OH- and not to mention your backpack too”
“I just never really had the space for it, I was always moving from one place to another so simple is key to me”
She takes your hands in hers.
“But not anymore, bug! You deserve to live comfortably, you don’t have the need to survive here, you live here”
You look at her hopeful eyes and back to your empty closet.
“I guess you’re right”
“YES! SHOPPING TIME!” Stephanie jumps off your bed in a second and dragging you out of it and before you know it, you’re at the mall.
“This place is awesome, might look a little intimidating at first, but it has every vibe you could go for!” Stephanie explains to you as you walk through the mall with your arms linked together.
At first you let her drag you to the stores, after all, she knows this more than you do adn that’s how you spend your evening, trying to figure out what looks cool and eventually your hands are full of bags.
“Shouldn’t we stop for today? We’re spending a lot”
“Don’t worry, I got Bruce’s card and he can never say no to you” Stephanie chuckles adn you do too, but something catches your eye.
As you’re passing by a store front, a bag catches your eye, you stop. It’s a large green cross bag, it has tons of pockets and you can just envision the amount of pins you could put in the front.
Stephanie stops her rant as she notices your distraction.
“That bag is super cute, it would be a great chance from your back pack!”
“Maybe one more purchase isn’t so bad” you admit shyly.
Back at home, you and Steph put the clothes in the closet sorting out where the tops and bottoms go, where the shoes and accessories go and eventually it’s complete.
“Wait there’s one more thing!” you grab your new bag that is already decorated by your pins outside and your school stuff in it and you hang it by the door of the closet.
“Perfect!” Steph exclaims and bringing you to a hug to which you gladly accept.
“Thanks for today, it was really cool”
“Of course, now you can enjoy your closet, trust me, new clothes are a real self esteem boost”
Cassandra Cain - scars talk
Cassandra was a mystery to you, you’d see her in the training room a lot, sometimes she would go missing for a couple days. It wasn’t like Jason who came in occasionally but made his presence known or Dick who came every weekend, Cass was a mystery.
The manor was empty, Alfred had gone grocery shopping and everyone else was out. Being alone wasn’t your favorite thing, you have the tendency of going down a rabbit hole about your own self.
So here you are, fresh out of the shower standing in front of the mirror with a sleeveless shirt.
You know you shouldn’t do this, nitpick at everything about your body, but you do because although it’s a bad habit you can’t stop.
There’s a sound in the hall that makes you jump out of your trance, you step out into the hall.
“Hello?” you call out.
“Hi” Cass waves at you.
You yelp a little, not expecting her to be there, she’s really quiet.
“Cassandra? What are you doing here?” you realise you still have your arms out and quickly head in to put a jacket on, but Cass was faster than you.
She grabs you by the wrist and turns you towards her, her eyes scan your arms with furrowed eyebrows, she doesn’t even need to speak, you’re already in defense mode.
“It’s nothing alright?”
But she doesn’t budge, Cass’s finger traces your upper arm where different scars are and before you speak again, she does.
“What happened?”
The scars on your upper arms especially trigger you, but looking at Cass’s worried eyes made you want to explain, she’s already seen them, might as well talk.
“I got these from my mom, she threw a wine bottle at me, she was a violent drunk” you speak in a lower tone trying to keep your voice from wavering too much.
Cass doesn’t talk, instead she lets the grip on your wrist go and her hands fly to the hem of her shirt, she lifts the back of it.
Across her back there were circular scars from the lower to the middle of her back, your eyes widened in surprise.
“Cassy?” your fingers hover over the skin.
“It was my dad, bullet wounds from childhood training”
Your hand retracts and Cassandra lowers her shirt once more, you knew she had a troublesome childhood, being trained from a young age to be used as a military weapon.
“You don’t need to hide, we survived” she continues and holds your hands.
That little sentence made your eyes blurry with tears that eventually fell, Cass immediately wrapped her arms around you. Cassandra was a mystery to you, but she had a way of seeing people that no one else in the family had, you felt safe in being vulnerable with her and crying in her arms.
Barbara Gordon - math problem
You’re sitting on the couch, books scattered around you, you tapped the pencil onto the book that was resting against your lap.
“Why is this so hard?” you whisper to yourself.
Out of all the homework you have for next week, math is definitely the hardest, you’ve been stuck on this equation for 10 minutes now.
The front door unlocks, in comes Steph, Babs and Cass laughing at something you didn’t quite catch. Barbara notices you on the couch and comes right over as Steph and Cass put the groceries away in the kitchen.
“How’s it going?” Barbara asks you, she takes one of the books on the cushions.
“Algebra?” she asks, raising you an eyebrow.
“Yes! It’s been driving me insane!” you rub your face with your hands.
Barbara puts the book down and takes the one you have on your lap, she analyses the equation you’ve made and understands why you got it wrong.
“You forgot to add this 2 here” you give her the pencil and she circles the problem.
“OH MY- YOU’RE RIGHT!” you quickly finish the equation with the right addition.
“If you need anything else, just call”
“Thanks Babs!” you call out to her as she wheels to the kitchen.
After your interaction, you did call her as she said, well you called her several times to the point that Barbara has been tutoring you once a week.
You had just finished the test she prepared for you to train for the next exam. You sit there fondling with your fingers nervously, hopefully everything was correct, you watch as she scribbles on the paper, correcting your work.
“Congradulations, it’s an A!” Bab passes you back the test.
“YES! THANK YOU SO MUCH” you round the table and give her a hug.
“Do you think I’m ready for the exam?” you ask her with a worried look.
She takes your hands and squeezes them.
“You have nothing to worry about, just relax and you’ll do just fine”
You nod at her wise words.
A few days later, Barbara is hanging out with Dick by the living room when you come bursting through the front door as you just came from school. When you spot her on the couch you run to her.
“BABS GUESS WHAT?!” you take the exam from your backpack, a red A+ is on the front page.
“A + REALLY?” Babs mimics your excitement.
“I did what you said, I kept it calm and did it like our tutoring classes”
“Congradulations, you did really well!” she hugs you.
“All because of you of course” you hug her back.
“No-no it’s because of your hard work, I just gave you the push you need and if you need a little push again, I’m right here to help, alright?” she pats your shoulder.
You nod and thank her once more, thanks to her you got your biggest score yet in your school grades, now you definitely know who to call for these troubles.
A/N: A part 2 to this post! I hope you guys enjoy this part as well
The past weeks had been sickeningly dreadful. Worse, you think, than how life was before, because now Cregan knew exactly how you felt. There was no hiding your pain behind pleasant smiles like before. In all honesty, you were too tired to try anyway.
You long since abandoned your study of the North, seeing it would not bring the two of you closer. A pity. You liked some of the artwork that accompanied some of the tales.
Days were long. Painfully so. Northerners were covered in fur and long faces with not a flicker of joy ever crossing their features. You missed home. The warmth, companionship, your culture. You missed feeling wanted.
That debilitating loneliness was what led you to where you were now - hiding in a trunk on the back of a wagon.
You heard enough to know they were going back to your home place for trade. Perfect. With how early Cregan left and the time this wagon would be departing, you wouldn't have to worry about his eyes watching your every move, and you'd be long gone by the time he returned home.
Home.
His home.
It could never be yours.
To your surprise, not much time had passed when you felt the wagon stop. "Could they not wait to piss?" You thought with a grumble, so sure that must have been the reason for the stop. Why else would traders waste time when they knew they were on a time crunch?
You tuned out the men speaking as soon as the ride began. Talks of women weren't the least bit interesting, yet you found yourself paying attention to their words once more.
Muffled, they were. Multiple voices with varying emotions. "You must be mistaken!" The frightened voice urged. "We would never!". His fright scared you. His speech was muffled yet somehow the fear in his voice was incredibly clear. Whoever confronted him put terror in his heart with words alone. You hadn't heard any violence, or felt the wagon rocking with thrown bodies. You clung to the dagger you stole from the castle. It was nothing special, but a dagger didn't need to be special to end a life.
"Ease yourself... suspici... allow... look...". Whoever confronted the traders had a lower voice. It was hard to hear everything they said, but what wasn't hard to hear was the clatter of things moving. The snow crunched below the weight of multiple sets of boots. You clutched the dagger tighter, body trembling as your ears were filled with the sounds of the wagon being searched.
"Don't search here" you pleaded in your head, "please go". Were these bandits? They were searching too kindly to be bandits. When you thought of criminals, you imagined big burly men covered in scars, faces mean, snatching everything in sight. They should've torn through everything, not take their time looking for whatever it was they wanted.
The sun wasn't particularly bright in the North, especially in comparison to other places in the world, but the light was bright enough to make your eyes burn when the top of the trunk was thrown open.
Despite your eyes burning and your vision being skewed, you thrust the dagger forward. It had not hit flesh. Rather, it skimmed across the top of thick wool, rendering your attempt at defending yourself useless.
"No!" You shouted as unknown hands yanked you from the cramped space, "get off me!".
"Easy, m'lady".
You blinked hard. Once. Twice. By the third time, your vision properly returned. These were not bandits. The wagon was not being robbed, nor were you in danger. These men were familiar men. Cregan's men. Rugged, covered in wool and fur, with thick calloused hands you could feel through your sleeves.
"How?" You thought aloud. How did the bastard find you?! You were sure Cregan had left at his usual time and no one saw you slip into commoner clothes before tucking yourself away in the trunk.
A familiar voice filled your ears, "we will speak at home". Cregan. Of course it was Cregan. As if he'd pass up the opportunity to embarrass you. Well he had another thing coming if he thought you'd go quietly.
You wretched yourself free from the man who grabbed you, allowing yourself to face Cregan fully. His beautifully sculpted face was stern, with low brows and lacking a smile. "That place is not my home" you spat, "what was all this? Some sick joke on me?". It all must've been a set up. A test you failed miserably. "I am not a prized doll to be toyed with".
"You were caught. How I found you is of little consequence".
"I want to know".
"What you want is not my priority".
You scoffed, "obviously".
His brows raised for the smallest moment. Was that... was that pain you spot on his face? It couldn't be. Cregan Stark didn't care for you. His only concern was ice walls and fairytales of ghouls. You of all people could not hurt the Warden of the North. "Let us return home" he said, voice softer than before.
"If I refuse?".
"Don't".
Refusing would be pointless. There was too many of them and only one of you. You'd likely be thrown over one of their shoulders, kicking and screaming like a child. Calling it humiliating would be putting it mildly. You had failed. You would not see home today or tomorrow. Not in the next week, or month, or maybe even year. He would be watching you too closely now.
With the taste of defeat on your tongue, you allowed yourself to be brought "home".
*
The ride home was eerily silent. You weren't sure what to expect since you stupidly never considered getting caught, but the silence was unexpected. No snide comments or lectures. Just silence. He hadn't even looked your way.
"Make sure my lady is given a bath" Cregan ordered once you stepped inside. He still hadn't looked at you. "She needs warm clothes and food. Use the flowers I got in her bath". Your ears perked up. The last sentence was whispered but you were close enough to hear him. He got you flowers?
"They'll likely be ugly" you thought stubbornly. But no. They were not ugly. You watched as your ladies sprinkled in the petals of your favorite flower into your bath. Not a random flower he picked up on the side of the road, but your favorite flower. How many times had you mentioned it? Once? Maybe twice but you doubted it.
Your body smelled of new soaps when you emerged in your shared chambers. Your favorite flower and new soaps... had something happened? Did he do something terrible and now he was apologizing?
"What is this?" You asked when he finally joined you in your chambers. He only had one foot in the door, face still partially hidden by his mess of hair. "You got me my favorite flowers and new soaps. Why?".
He ignored you completely. Cregan began to take his time discarding his outside furs, which only made you more anxious. "Something terrible has happened, hasn't it?". Still, no response. You wrapped your arms around yourself, feeling your pulse quicken. "Did you father a bastard?". That's often why married men apologized to their wives. Maybe he wasn't just doing his duties when he was gone. You didn't like the thought of him visiting whore houses, but it wasn't an impossible thought. Men cheated all the time and their wives had to deal with it.
Cregan finally looked at you. His eyes carried a heavy weight. Sorrow, anger, two things you never thought you'd see him feel. "You think that low of me?".
"No" you answered honestly. For all his faults, Cregan never seemed like the type to be unfaithful. You supposed it WAS an impossible thought. Cregan in the arms of some unnamed whore, showering her with love and gifts before having his way with her. This kind treatment didn't make sense though. He should be angry with you. His voice should've been raised instead of in its usual low tone. Cregan didn't seem the type to throw things when angry but this was a special situation. "Why would you randomly get me my favorite flowers and new soaps if something wasn't wrong? Often married men apologize when a bastard is involved".
Cregan ran his fingers through his hair, his half ponytail gone during the carriage ride back "home". "Have you considered-" he began as he tied his hair back once more, "there is no ill will in my gifts? You saw the flowers in a painting and said they were your favorite".
You remembered now. The thing was, you never told him those were your favorites. "I was thinking out loud. I didn't even think I said those words loud enough for you to hear".
"Well I heard you".
"And you remembered?".
"I remembered".
"Why?".
Cregan approached you slowly, like a bee approaching a flower, or a husband not sure if he was allowed in his wife's space. It touched your heart in a way that seemed silly. He respected your autonomy enough to give you an out if you didn't want him near. You never considered him respecting you.
You couldn't help but notice the slight tremor in his hand as it hovered over your shoulder. "He's nervous" you thought. Seeing him in a state you never seen him in before made you dislike him a little less. Wordlessly, you placed your hand on his, guiding it down to make contact with your shoulder.
Cregan let out a deep breath. Nerves on him were foreign but not hated. It made him seem more human. Less an untouchable direwolf and more a man made of flesh and bone.
"I remembered because you are my wife" he finally answered after a moment of silence passed between the two of you. He could have left it at that but for once in his life, Cregan was not a man of few words. "The same reason I have you watched when I am not here. You want to know how I found out about your plan? I have people watch you. You want to know why? Because you are my wife and your safety matters to me. Your happiness as well. I admit I have done a poor job at showing I think of either of those things. What were you thinking leaving the safety of this castle? What would you have done if the traders found you and were not good men? I know for a fact they are, but if they were not? Do you think your stolen dagger would protect you from a group of criminals?".
Your gaze fell down in shame. This was the lecture you expected earlier, though his tone was not as condensending as you imagined it would be. He wasn't trying to shame you, rather, he was trying to get you to actually think. "I made a poor choice that was bred of desperation" you admitted lowly.
"Look at me". He began again when your eyes finally risen to meet his, not a moment before. "It may not seem true but I see you. I listen. It is all I know how to do; watch and listen. I do not know how to speak to you. It is not because you are a woman. It is because you are my woman. I want you to be happy, safe, comfortable, well cared for, I want Winterfell to be your home. I have failed. All I can say is that I am sorry. If you hate me, I understand. But you must know you have never disgusted me".
He did not know how to talk to you. It was a strange thought. How could Cregan Stark, Warden of the North, protector of his people, warrior for his people, killer for his people, an iron force for his people, have trouble talking to you?
Because you were not the men he commanded. As a woman, you were taught how to speak to your future husband. How to be gentle and docile.
"Be there but not around too much or you'll tire him".
"Have good posture".
"Never argue".
"Be ready for him at all times".
"Laugh at all his jokes even if they're terrible".
You always thought the rules society tried to force on you were stupid, so you used those as a blueprint to make your own. It was something to go off of. You never thought to wonder if Cregan ever got those lessons. Even if he did, perhaps those rules never made sense to him either, but he hadn't thought of ways to improve them and soon enough there was a bride in his home. A home he was now sharing with someone he had never met before.
"I do not hate you". Did you ever? No. If you hated him, you wouldn't have tried so hard to connect with him. "I am..." your hand gripped his tightly, finding solace in his firmness. "I am lost. Everything and everyone I have ever known is gone. I am in a strange land with strange people who whisper cruelties about me-".
"They have been removed. If anyone else speaks out of line, they will join them".
"I still heard them, Cregan. Then I fail to get close to you and all I can wonder is if you think the same things they do".
"Never!" He exclaimed, firmly. He opted to kneel in front of you, hands clapping your own in your lap. "Never" he repeated softer. "I thought it would be easier on you if I was not always around. I did not want my presence to intimidate you".
"Your presence does intimidate me, Cregan" you admitted, "but I still desire it".
His rough thumbs rubbed your soft skin as delicately as he could, "from this day forth I shall intimidate you, then. I swear".
"That's a big promise".
"A promise I can handle. A Stark has never forgotten an oath. I do not intend to be the first".
You did something you hadn't done the entire time you knew the Northern man.
You hugged him.
"Tackled him" would be a better phrase to use. Gods only knew the injuries you both would have suffered if he was not sturdy enough to catch you.
"I have to show you something".
And show you something he did. You were confused when he dragged you from your chambers, telling you to close your eyes, which seemed a little cheeky for his people. You heard all your life Northern people were strict with hardly any joy in their lives. "They're not romantics or whimsical. Their friendships are bound by sorrow" your aunt told you in preparation for your marriage.
But she was wrong.
You were wrong.
The conversation you had with Cregan lifted the dark veil from in front of you eyes. He was human like you, and so was everyone else here. They were not statues. They did not know how to do everything under the sun. They were babies turned children turned adults. They still had things to learn, much like you. Prejudices to unlearn, skills to develop, bad habits to break.
You could hear laughing. The people here were laughing. You caught parts of casual conversation the men and women around you were having. "How did I not catch any of this until now?" You asked yourself in your head, only to be answered immediately after by yourself, "because I was miserable, so everything seemed bleak". You were not wrong to be lonely. You'd remember this time. Pocket it, learn from it.
"Open".
Stunned.
Touched.
Amazed.
Someone who knew more words than you could probably list hundreds of words describing how you feel and it still wouldn't have been enough to describe how your soul truly felt in this exact moment.
The room he brought you in was beautiful, decorated with flowers, vines, all with complementary colors. That alone would have made you tear up, but what you saw on the wall completely took your breath away.
Pained on the wall was a work in progress of you and Cregan seemingly mid twirl, both your homes in the back slowly merging together as symbols of your gods watched.
Your hand found itself placed above your heart. "I've never received such a gift" the words came out nearly breathless. "Cregan I'm not exactly sure what to say".
"Do you like it?".
You looked at him with wide eyes, which made Cregan, yes, THE Cregan Stark smile. "I could slap you for asking such a silly question! I love it! I don't have anything for you, I'm afraid".
"No need" he said immediately, "I do not expect anything in return. That's not why I had this room commissioned. After you told me how you felt, I prayed. It made me realize there was nowhere here for you to pray to your gods. I thought it would be nice to give you a beautiful room for you to pray, or for times when you need quiet. I don't want our culture differences to keep us apart. I want it to make us stronger. You've learned so much about my people-" he took a deep breath, "will you tell me about yours?".
Teasingly, you mimicked his breath. "Are you nervous again?".
"Yes".
"My poor poor Warden". You wrapped your arms around his torso, hearing his breath hitch at how close you were. "Capable of battle yet frightened by his wife".
"It is your rejection I fear".
How interesting it was that the two of you had the same fear. "I must be honest with you - I heard terrible things about the North. I think the stereotypes I heard about how harsh you all were led me to fearing you, which is why I did not speak with you sooner. I still stand by my frustration, but I should have spoken with you sooner. I should not have waited until I exploded. For that, I am sorry. I still have a lot to learn about your people as well. So, as long as you do not reject me, I will not reject you, Lord Cregan Stark of the North".
"I would never reject you". He spoke your name, House, and home. Your first home. You could now see Winterfell becoming your second.
Cregan sent a shiver down your spine with the way he cupped your face, his thumb tracing your bottom lip. Like when he approached you earlier, he was giving you a way out.
"I don't want a way out from you".
With that, Cregan took his invitation to press his lips against yours.
It wasn't loveless the way people said Northeners kiss. It was beautiful. Soft, responsive, most of all, it was patient. Not forceful. It didn't feel like he was trying to mount you right then and there. It felt like he was taking in you choosing to start anew with him.
Your marriage to Cregan Stark had a rough start, this was true, but you both learned a valuable lesson -
synopsis: Jason Todd is a virgin
wc: 1178
tags: virgin Jason Todd, first time, orgasm control, blow job, moaning, whimpering, msub, fdom, smut
Jason was a virgin. And honestly, that fact didn't fucking bother him at all. Like, a big ol' "don't give a shit plus don't give a shit" situation - a guy whose interests and thoughts revolved around… other things, okay? He wasn't about to hit you with some lofty, Aristotle-level bullshit. It was more just him being aware of some kind of line separating him from relationships and all that.
Basically, the fact that he just didn't want to "find" someone in that way.
At least, that's what Jason thought. About his independence from intimacy, from all those base desires that Father would've definitely condemned during Sunday confession.
And then you showed up. Like something out of some cheap romance novel that old ladies with smoker's voices try to peddle at train station kiosks.
And suddenly those "little things" weren't so little anymore. Because he wanted to be the one for you - and along with that came wanting to be cool and all that shit. So his lack of experience really… stressed Todd out. And that's putting it mildly. Because you, on the other hand, were the complete opposite.
It fucking showed way too much in your movements. In the way you kissed him, making his knees literally fucking tremble. He'd get hard like some snot-nosed teenager the second you slid your tongue into his mouth.
The tension in his groin was so sharp and hot that he wanted to squeeze his eyes shut and sink through the floor right then and there, because Todd couldn't hold back a single sound.
That pathetic fucking whining when you pulled away after a few minutes. All his usual sarcasm would fly right out of his head - all those dumb little phrases that usually made you laugh.
He was just… shaking. Turned on, breathing hard, and dreaming of more - which you wouldn't give him right away. Jason didn't fucking know at what point he was supposed to slip a hand into his pants.
What if he rushed it and scared you off?
And you weren't helping at all. The way you pulled away from him so easily, then went right back to the movie like you were purposely teasing him.
On that point, he wasn't wrong. You loved seeing that mix of lust, pain, and involuntary worry on his face way too much.
This time was no different.
Your tongue slid along his lower lip. You bite it, pull Jason along with you, and he follows like a guard dog on a short leash. He doesn't even realize when he ends up on his back on the mattress - his head just softly hits the pillow at some point, and you're on top of him.
Right on his fucking hips.
Jason instinctively reaches for your waist, wanting to squeeze, to slide under your shirt - but you catch his wrists before he can even close his fingers.
— "Uh-uh," — you say quietly, and that tone makes everything inside him flip the fuck over.
Holy fucking shit.
You guide his arms up toward the headboard - one, then the other, - and Todd lets you. More than that - he doesn't even think about resisting. He just looks at you, completely mesmerized. Watches as you slowly let your hair down, taking off that black satin ribbon. And then you wrap it around his wrists, tying them together. Not too tight - just enough to make a point.
He could still easily flip your positions, after all.
Jason jerks, bucks his hips, because yeah. He's turned on, dreaming of you finally touching him. You grant that wish, placing your palm just above where his cock is straining rock-hard against his zipper.
— "Don't rush."
— "You..." — Todd starts, voice raw, then immediately shuts his mouth because your fingers just traced over his crotch through his jeans.
He arches off the bed, a pathetic moan ripping from his lips. That fucking whimper - the one he's ashamed of right up until he sees your reaction.
Just how much you liked those two sounds.
— "You want me to keep going?"
— "Yes," — he wheezes, probably before you even finish the question.
— "Just 'yes'?" — Jason lets out something like an animalistic whine. — "Come on, Jay. Be polite."
— "Please," he breathes out in a whisper. Then, when you don't move, he adds: — "Please... touch me."
You lean forward, catch the hem of his shirt, and pull it up, exposing his stomach - hard, with a trail of dark hair leading downward.
— "Good boy." — That word alone makes him fucking choke. — "Stay still."
You pull down the zipper on Jason's jeans, and he presses his head back into the pillow, freezing.
He wants to snap back at you.
Say something about how he's not a dog that obeys so easily.
But in that moment, you yank his jeans and boxers down together, and his cock - hard, already wet at the tip, and impossibly sensitive. So sensitive that just the touch of air makes Todd's whole body jolt.
You wrap your fingers around him, stroke from top to bottom and back, and the man loses whatever thread was connecting him to reality. His hips buck up on their own, fucking into your fist, and he moans so loud he startles himself.
— "Quiet. Unless you want the neighbors to find out what a loud boy you are?"
Not that your neighbors would give a shit - the walls are fucking thick enough.
He doesn't answer, because the next second, you go lower.
You do the thing that breaks him completely.
Your mouth, - hot and wet, - is on Todd's cock without any warning. Your tongue slides around the tip in a circular motion - so slow, fucking deliberate, that his calves cramp up. You take him into your mouth, pull back, then sink down again, deeper, almost all the way.
Jason howls.
Not moans - fucking howls, head thrown back, bound hands clenched into fists, sweat rolling down his temples. He whines, begs, says something completely incoherent. From that jumbled mess, you can only make out:
— "More… more, please…"
And you speed up. Within seconds, you grant that request - but then you slow right back down, turning this into pure torture.
— "You're… you're doing this on purpose," — Jason nearly sobs, his voice full of pure desperation. — "Fuck... I'm gonna…"
You run your tongue from the base to the tip, slow, with pressure, feeling the vein pulse under his thin skin. The man lets out a ragged moan, and you sink down a little deeper. You tighten your lips, creating suction.
— "Oh, fucking hell," — he whispers, head thrown back.
Another whimper escapes his lips. Each following movement of yours turns that sound into a full-on whine.
You feel his cock twitch in your throat. See his stomach muscles contract a second before Todd freezes completely - and then arches off the bed like a bow, coming.
summary: Charles is ready to have his first time with you and you decide to indulge him but only by going step by step and taking things slow to not overwhelm your favorite boy
cw: smut, first time receiving a hj (m receiving), premature finish
It wasn’t that it had always been on Charles’s mind, or at least not until a few weeks ago when the trust between you two was growing as much as the possibility of going a little further into your relationship. But he wanted to be ready for you.
He had never told any of his last partners. He was embarrassed enough on his own to be parading it around. It was not like he didn’t trust you, of course he did, but he hated the mere thought of being able to lose you over something that stupid like the fact that he hadn’t slept with anyone yet.
So he started doing his researches, just in case the moment finally came and he had the chance to eventually make you feel good.
He looked all over, any type of web, videos and he even asked some friends that he trusted enough, so he finally had a solid image of what he should do.
Then, a few days later, it happened.
In the dim and cozy setting of his bedroom, Charles and you were on the bed, watching a movie. You had your arm around his waist, his was around your shoulders and your head rested on his chest. At first, everything was fine, relaxed, perfect even, until Charles suddenly felt your lips on his neck. It wasn’t new, but it always sent chills through his spine.
You moved higher, to his jaw, and then, you finally reached his lips.
It started slow, gentle, but when your hand unconsciously landed on his thigh, Charles couldn’t help but make it deeper, hungrier.
He didn’t exactly know what he was doing, but everything felt right.
However you couldn’t see it that way, because he seemed wavering, his hands even left your body when the kiss escalated, so you pulled back to get a good look at his face.
“Char? It’s okay if you don’t want to keep going,” you said.
Your breath was a little unsteady from the kiss but your words were very serious.
“No- no, please,” he pressed his mouth on yours, bringing you back into a messy kiss, "I've learned, I’ll do good,” he promised in a breath.
And that was when it hit you.
“Learned?” You pulled back again, caressing his cheek with a sweet smile, “Are you new to all of this?”
When Charles realised that he had revealed his secret, a blush covered his cheeks, and before he could think of an excuse, he nodded, not wanting to lie to you.
“How new?” you asked.
“Very,” he mumbled, looking down, completely embarrassed.
You smiled softly: you didn’t know he could get any cuter, but there he was.
“It’s alright, baby, I can teach you.”
His gaze turned back up to you, letting you see a little spark in his eyes.
“Really? You’re not mad?”
“With you? For this? Never.”
Charles grinned, and before you could react, his mouth was back onto yours, giving you - in a very direct way - all the permission you could ask for to keep things going.
You knew that the moment Charles and you would become intimate would happen, you just didn't know when. And today seemed to be that day.
The idea of having sex with your boyfriend made an appearance in your mind from time to time, especially after some heated make-out session that left you hot and bothered.
Taking your relationship with Charles a step further had started to nudge your thoughts at the multiple sights of his pink cheeks, swollen lips and lust clouded gaze on you after rough kissing, while his pants was obviously tented by what could only be heavy arousal and raw desire for you.
You never really acted on your thoughts until today. The reason? That Charles never looked comfortable once he came back from the post kiss bliss and your hand lingered on his lower stomach or high on his thighs. During those moments, he either kissed you again hungrily then withdrew if your touch came too close to his crotch or, instead, he pressed his knees together and squirmed like a flustered kid, trying but failing to hide the more than obvious outline of his erection. Each times you made an attempt at turning things hotter, Charles’s whole body tensed up. He became shy, which was so uncharacteristic of him, he stumbled on his words and he made use of any distraction or random topic to switch the atmosphere to a far less heated one.
Now, after his accidental confession, you understood why it always turned this way. His lack of experience was the culprit for his reluctance. You had noticed the pattern but didn't address the issue, thinking that if there was something to be said, Charles would speak up. It took time but finally, here it was, the truth was now out, and to say you didn't find it utterly sweet was an understatement.
“You're adorable,” you sighed longingly against his lips, feeling lucky to have such an adorable boyfriend who made your heart melt with everything he did.
“I am not,” Charles countered immediately, frowning.
You huffed with amusement at the retort which was less than convincing considering the pink hue on his cheeks.
“You are and you are not allowed to say the contrary,” you replied back.
However Charles was not one to back down from a discussion, so, the second you noticed he was about to retort again, you shut him up with another kiss, surprising him and engulfing any complaint inside your mouth, earning from him an involuntary squeak that made his cheeks burn with embarrassment.
He could deny all he wanted, he definitely was the cutest.
His surprised little noise made you smile and deepen the kiss, seeking more closeness and creating a need for more inside you. You knew the feeling was shared because you could already see how hard Charles already was, a bulge was showing on the front of his jeans.
Closing his eyes, Charles let himself be carried away by the exquisite caresses of your tongue against his, warm and soft, moving at a languid and cautious pace, full of attention and care.
Charles followed your movements eagerly, messily, and he pressed harder his lips against yours with greed and desire, which made you grin harder, amused.
Eyes closed as well, one hand cupping his face, you tried to match his eagerness and his request to make the kiss rougher, letting the heat of the moment wash over you, sharing Charles’ feeling of need and excitement.
However, you weren't going to rush things. The moment had to be enjoyable for your boyfriend and, as the experienced person here, you slowly took over, deciding to control the situation more.
You positioned yourself above Charles by placing your legs on either side of his, sitting yourself on his lap, making his arousal collide with yours, which made him grunt in your mouth. The sound reverberated in your throat and made you shiver. Your whole body now felt warmer and a spark of desire bloomed inside your lower stomach.
Charles’s hands rested on your waist however his touch was light and marked by shyness. His clumsiness was obvious, you sensed he needed your guidance.
“I won’t break, you can hold tighter,” you encouraged in a whisper, stroking his ribs in a soothing gesture with your free hand.
“Yeah, uh, I know.” Charles tried to sound confident but the hesitation showed his doubts.
“You're nervous,” you teased lightly, knowing that he wouldn't like it.
“No, I'm not. I'm…you know, I’m…” Charles trailed off awkwardly, gesturing vaguely with his hand, “I'm learning.” He settled on saying, making a face of embarrassment.
You laughed lightly, entertained, and spared him more shame by giving him a quick open mouthed kiss, slower this time, as if it was the first time you did. This change of pace, surprising as it was, pleased Charles. It acted as a reminder of how your relationship started. Sweet, soft and innocent. Memories of the early days made your heart beat a little faster.
Both of your hands traveled on his body, from his shoulders to his chest, and ended on the waistband of his jeans. Interest, hope and expectation but also anxiety all at once lightened up Charles’s eyes at the warm feeling of your hands touching him lower. Things were about to become real and Charles chewed on his bottom lip lightly while waiting for your next move.
Your gaze locked into his, you stayed quiet for a few seconds before speaking: “Do you trust me?” you asked in a low voice.
He scoffed as if he couldn't believe you would ask this, “‘Course I do.”
“So, trust me,” you murmured, “And let me know if anything feels too much, alright?”
He nodded without taking his eyes off you, giving you all the confidence you needed to go ahead with what you had in mind.
It was his first lesson with you, his very first intimate encounter. It also was a new stage in your relationship which was growing more and more serious. An inner joy and a feeling of pride in having created such a beautiful bond with Charles, made your heart flutter again. You wanted to take your time, pamper him, and be careful with him to not ruin anything you had both built until then.
Since Charles was a complete beginner, as he told you, you had a good idea of what kind of new sensation you were going to introduce him to first. One thing at a time, you would go step by step.
“I want you to relax,” you said, “Can you do that for me?”
“Why are you asking? Do I look tense?” Charles teased and you shook your head at that. If he was able to joke, it maybe meant he wasn’t as nervous as he seemed to be… until you started to set him free from the tightness of his jeans. Your hands just slid between his legs that his stomach tensed and his face fell. Charles’s doubts were back and very obvious. His nervousness was impossible to hide. You decided not to make a comment on that. Instead you smiled, sweet and encouraging, “Can I?”
Charles bit on his lower lip and replied in a whisper, “Yeah. Please.”
“Such a good boy for using your words,” you taunted, giving him a sly look.
Charles’ face turned a deeper shade of pink at the pet name he had never heard you use before. He felt ashamed for how responsive his body was to it: his cock twitched and precum was already wetting the front of his boxers. You chuckled at that. What you said was just a test, to see how he would react, and he didn’t disappoint. You could already know for sure that a lot of fun awaited you later once a few steps into your intimacy would have been reached. For now, you had to keep things soft and easy.
“This is in the way,” you said, pointing at his jeans and underwear.
“Well, you can…um, you can… remove it? Maybe?” Charles stammered, blushing harder.
You chuckled, “I can and I will.”
You acted on your words, lifting yourself off his lap and reaching for the pieces of clothing. Your boyfriend surprised you by helping with shaky hands from excitement or apprehension you didn’t know which. Eagerness, maybe. Despite his awkwardness and clumsiness, he truly wanted it. He pushed down his trousers with your help, he lifted his hips so you could pull off his boxers, leaving him bare down there. You sat back down on his lap. His underwear now rested to his mid-thigh, low enough but not fully pushed out of the way, the tip of his cock was already shining with precum. Just from a lot of kissing from you. How cute was it? A ton.
With utmost care, you delved your hand into the soft, dark curls at the base of his cock. You grazed the sensitive skin there, a light scratch of your nails that pulled a small, choked moan from the back of Charles’ throat.
You took a minute to admire your pretty boyfriend. He looked as hot as he looked adorable, even in this situation. Inexperience looked good on him.
“Lube?” you asked.
Charles nodded and grabbed the product from the bedside table. You poured a good quantity over your fingers then you took him in your hand and his breath hitched. For a solid second, Charles forgot how to breathe because of the delicate sensation of your warm touch on his shaft. The sensation of someone else’s hand around him was foreign. It was so different from what he was used to. Your way of holding him, the way your fingers felt against him, not exactly with the same pressure he usually applied, everything was so new that it felt overwhelming.
It was happening. It was real.
His very first sexual experiment.
With you, out of all people.
His first serious relationship that he hoped to last until marriage and kids and- oh, God. Billion questions jumped into his mind: where were the condoms he bought not long ago but hid out of shame? Would they even fit? Were you going to want to go all the way with him?
You noticed how tense he was and gently slapped his thigh with the hand that wasn’t on him.
“Hey, stop overthinking, I can hear you.”
“I- Uh, sorry. Sorry, it’s just… this is so weird,” Charles shyly admitted.
“For now,” you said before winking at him, “But it’s going to feel amazing in a second.”
He opened his mouth to ask something but instantly closed it when you started to move your hand.
Instinctively, Charles bucked his hips to meet your strokes in the perfect way so your fist could slightly brush against his tip, but when it actually happened the noise that left his mouth was close to being very obscene.
But he just couldn't help it.
Everything that you did was so amazing, so pleasurable, and it seemed to hit the right spots of his brain every single time your hand moved up and down.
Charles moaned loudly. He thrusted into your fist again, his eyes locked in yours, chest going up and down, cheeks glowing pink and some sweat wetting the strand of hair on his forehead. He looked angelic in the most lustful way and knowing it was because of you made you proud.
“So, so pretty for me,” you said, biting on your lower lip and trying to hide your cheeky smile while your hand kept on stroking him, “Your pretty face is literally begging me to let you cum.”
The strangled noise Charles made startled you for half a second.
It was just starting that it was already over: your words completely undid him, a high pitched and needy whine left Charles's mouth as his body tensed up and the boy spilled all over your fingers in a shuddering and noisy moan, back arching and head tilting back. Messy spurts of come coated your fist and your fingers.
Breathless, Charles came down from the orgasm, body going limp.
“Fuck, thank you… thank you,” he mumbled, eyes shut, not being able to process everything that happened.
“You came a lot,” you innocently commented.
You removed your hand, gently letting go of him. You were wiping your hand with a tissue you grabbed in the box on the nightstand when the reality that the moment was very short lived hit your boyfriend and he gasped.
“Shit! I'm sorry! That's so embarrassing. I'm-... I swear, I can last longer, I mean-”
A soft and fond smile spread across your lips.
“Hey, none of that, baby” you said, reassuring, “You did very good for me.”
Charles perked up and you leaned closer to him so your lips could reach his forehead, making him melt into any kind of contact that you were willing to give him.
“Don’t worry, babe,” you whispered, smiling, “It was only lesson one.”
Your nsfw alphabet for Max was so hot, and I'd like to request free use but flipped, so reader using him whenever they want
Needy
Four times you needed Max, and one time he was just as needy for you.
Or, the story of how you got your boyfriend obsessed with being used.
Warnings: smut, free use, oral, slight cnc, and somnophilia, alcohol, bottom!max and sub!max, short but sweet (i hope)
♦️
You just loved Max so much. Your champion. He made you feral. It didn't help that you were ovulating and he had the infuriating habit of walking around in nothing but shorts. He was in the kitchen cooking, looking all domestic and hot and you needed to do something about it.
You knew you couldn't fuck him, he needed to be in tip top shape for tomorrow's race and when you two went at it he would ache for days. You were just going to have to show him your appreciation another way.
He greeted you with a smile, unaware of what was brewing in your mind.
You pushed him against the counter, and the bewildered look he gave you was the icing on the cake as you sank to your knees and dragged his shorts down with you.
His jaw dropped in shock, he was speechless as he watched you swallow him down easily given that he was still soft. He had no idea what got into you, but he wasn't going to argue with this new turn of events.
He dropped the fork he was holding and his hands wrapped your hair into a ponytail, but you batted him away and gave him a look that meant "hands to your fucking self"
Within seconds he was hard, and the desperate groans he was letting out only fuelled the fire inside you, the need to see him lose it.
You took him deep, and suckled around him, and he squirmed and panted, still confused about why he was getting one of the best blowjobs of his life.
He white knuckled the edge of the counter, whining and trying to keep himself still for you, but even with all the self control in the world he couldn't stop the tension coiling in his belly and his balls were tightening without him realising.
His thigh tensed under your fingers as he came with a choked moan into his hand and you were very tempted to make him go again, overstimulate him until he begged for mercy, but you needed to keep him happy and relaxed in order for him to want to do this kind of thing again...
So you tucked him back into his shorts, gave him a quick peck on the lips and went to take a shower before dinner. He watched you retreat with an open mouth and his brain reduced to mush.
♠️
Exactly one week later, Max still wasn't really over it.
He replayed it in his head constantly, wondering whether it was all actually just a hallucination. You certainly weren't acting any different than usual.
The two of you were at an after party on Sunday. Max had won the race, and you'd found yourselves in some guy's penthouse, drugs and alcohol everywhere, full of people you didn't know but for a few familiar faces from the paddock.
You were horny again. Max was looking fine as shit, white shirt getting progressively more open as the night went on, and after a while you felt the urge to just take what you wanted.
You dragged him to a spare bedroom, drunk out of your minds under pretence of needing him to help you with something.
But you both knew it was going to end with Max landing on his ass in a plush armchair, and you climbing onto his lap with only one goal in mind: getting him inside you. Now.
He was just as bewildered by your behaviour as the week before. You weren't usually one to sneak off and fuck at a party, but who was he to argue with a good thing?
His fingers got cramps with how hard they were gripping the arm rests either side of you, and he was very quickly out of breath despite the amount of cardio he did.
Partly because you had a hand around his throat, squeezing periodically to get him a little lightheaded. That too was new, but he found himself being very much on board with it.
It felt a little dangerous, and surrendering to you was making his brain go fuzzy.
He was so hard he felt like he was going to explode, and your tight hot cunt wrapped around him wasn't helping.
"Fuck, fuck, fuuuuck-" he gasped, and his face went completely slack as you wrung every last drop of pleasure out of him.
He slumped into the chair, and you panted into his mouth that he was a very good boy, and that made his brain short-circuit...
Oh yes... he liked that.
♥️
During summer break you were on Max's yacht, lounging around, only sun and sea for miles around.
The perfect opportunity. Max was laying on his front, soaking up some sun on the deck.
"Want a massage, babe?"
He grunted out a response of some kind. He was half asleep. The perfect prey.
You put some lotion on his back and climbed on.
He groaned when you pressed into his muscles, sore from his earlier workout, and you made sure to be thorough. You needed him as loose as possible.
He didn't even flinch when you tugged his shorts down, to get your greedy hands on his ass. And those thighs. You'd gladly let him choke you out with them.
You told him as much.
He giggled a bit when you placed a chaste kiss on his left cheek, squirming a little and the tips of his ears reddened.
He was getting shy.
You placed another kiss on the small of his back, and leaned over his body to whisper in his ear.
"Don't worry babe" He could hear the smile in your tone. "I'm going to make you feel good"
He nodded, and you grinned as you seized the lotion and lubed your hands up.
He couldn't help the moan he let out when the tip of your finger slid over his rim. Max was notoriously sensitive and he wasn't used to being touched there.
The first finger went in without a hitch, knuckle by knuckle, and the slow drag of it was enough to get Max so hard that he felt like all the blood was being drained from his brain.
He unconsciously spread his legs a bit, chasing the feeling and you carefully added another finger inside him.
The build was slow but steady, you were applying pressure to the right spots to make him have to bite his fist to hide his noises, but when you slid a third digit inside him, not even that stopped the pathetic wail that was ripped from him.
One press against his prostate and he came hard, clamping down on your fingers and riding it out with his hips, rolling desperately until they finally came to a halt when it got too much.
You could tell emotions were surfacing when he took a shaky breath and cleared his throat.
You draped yourself over his back, stroking his skin soothingly.
"You were so good for me, Max"
His breathing slowly evened out and he smiled when you kissed his sweaty neck.
"Such a good boy"
♣️
Neither of you were strangers to somnophilia. But it was definitely the first time you'd woken Max up like this.
You were eating him out. Quite sloppily in fact, and he was barely awake enough to tense up at the feeling of your fingers breaching him.
You prepped him thoroughly, and when you sat back on your haunches he realised what you were up to.
You were wearing a harness, paired with an average sized dildo that was poking at him insistently.
He gasped when the head pushed inside him, rim stretched around it and his hands moved to stop you but you were quicker. You pinned them above his head, and for the first time ever, Max felt weak.
His wide eyes almost made you halt your movements, but you pushed forwards, sinking into him until your hips met his ass. The rattled breath he let out made your stomach churn with something dark.
He was struggling to keep his eyes from rolling back, and made a half-hearted effort at struggling against you, but it was as if the cock inside him was making him completely pliant.
"Shhh baby..." you teased. "I need this, need to see you take me, okay?"
He got choked up, and you didn't really give him a chance to regain any braincells before you moved, shallowly fucking into him at first, just to watch his face go slack.
Then you went harder, skin slapping against skin and the sounds he made were exquisite.
His back arched, and you decided to give his ample chest some attention, lips wrapping around one of his nipples and he quickly started begging.
Begging for what? Neither of you knew.
"Please, please, please" he chanted, eyes shut in bliss as he felt the pressure building inside him, white hot flames of arousal licking up his spine.
He came harder that night than he ever had in his life.
You'd finally broken him in. Made him get a taste of everything you had to offer, and by the utterly fucked-out look on his face you knew he'd be asking for more...
🃏
The evidence of the success of your psychological training came in the form of a desperate Max showing up on your doorstep after a bad race.
You barely got the door open before he was on top of you, rutting against you like a dog.
"Need you" he panted into your chest, almost collapsing onto his knees. "Need you so fucking bad."
You didn't bother to conceal your victorious grin as you shoved him onto the bed, ripping his clothes off and sinking down on him in one fowl swoop.
You'd pre-prepped, you knew he'd turn up as soon as you saw his car in the wall. And if there's one thing that made you horny was pathetic sore-loser Max.
He cried out your name, letting you use him for your own pleasure while you pinned him down with a hand around his neck.
"You're so good, my perfect toy..."
He lay there, raw and sensitive both physically and emotionally. You bounced on his cock, whispering filthy praises and he let the frustrations of the day wash away with every orgasm, every squeeze of your exquisite cunt around him, wiping his mind blank of any rational thought.
"You're gonna let me use you whenever I want, yeah? Be my little whore, always desperate and ready to please, isn't that right?"
He attempted words, incomprehensible in their content but clear in the intention.
✦ ──── DINING
hannibal lecter x autistic!reader
masterlist — taglist
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
wc. 1k
premise.
based on this ask!
i’m so excited to hear autistic!reader and hannibal are getting multiple parts, i literally stimmed lol. i feel so seen. thank you. 💜
warnings.
none.
━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━
The house was alive with people.
This was arguably your least favourite time of the week, Dinner Party Night.
You stood beside Hannibal near the entrance hall, smoothing invisible wrinkles from your sleeves for what must have been the twentieth time.
You had practiced.
You had spent nearly an hour deciding what to wear because Hannibal always looked immaculate, and you wanted people to look at the two of you and think you belonged together.
You wanted him to be proud.
His hand found the small of your back.
"You are tense," Hannibal observed quietly, his voice low enough that only you could hear.
"I'm trying not to be," you admitted.
His thumb rubbed a slow circle against your waist, he turned toward you fully, shutting out the arriving guests for one fleeting moment.
"You owe no one a performance," Hannibal said gently.
"I know," you whispered. "But... they're your friends."
"They are my guests."
"They're important." you argued.
His expression softened.
"You," he corrected, "are important."
The warmth of his words settled somewhere inside you, but they did little to quiet the nervous buzzing beneath your skin.
For the first hour, you tried, you truly tried.
A woman with pearls asked about your hobbies.
You answered honestly.
"I enjoy categorising books in our library by publication date."
She blinked.
"Oh."
Silence.
You weren't sure whose turn it was to speak.
Eventually, she smiled politely before excusing herself to refill her wine.
Another guest began discussing opera.
You knew quite a lot about opera.
You talked for nearly ten minutes about funeral marches in nineteenth-century compositions, the symbolism of death in stage direction, and the historical evolution of requiem performances.
Halfway through, you noticed his eyes wandering toward someone else.
Had you said too much? Too little? You couldn't tell.
He thanked you awkwardly before drifting away.
Every conversation felt like being handed a script with half the pages missing.
Everyone else somehow knew when to laugh.
When to interrupt.
How long eye contact should last.
When a question required an honest answer and when it required something... prettier.
You never seemed to know.
By the time dinner was served, your chest felt tight.
The dining room buzzed with conversation.
You couldn't find a place to fit.
So you stopped trying.
Quietly, you slipped away from the crowd.
There was a small armchair, your favourite one to be clear, just beyond the library.
You sat there, folding your hands together.
You ounted the raindrops racing down the glass.
One.
Two.
Three.
The numbers made considerably more sense than people.
You stared outside, trying very hard not to cry.
Not because anyone had been cruel.
Nobody had.
They had all been perfectly polite.
You had wanted tonight to go well.
You had wanted Hannibal to look across the room and think...
That's my darling.
They're extraordinary.
Instead...
You couldn't even figure out how to have a conversation.
You hadn't heard the approaching footsteps, you only noticed them when someone stopped beside your chair.
"You've disappeared," Hannibal said gently, his voice carrying no accusation, only quiet concern.
You looked up at him.
His expression was as composed as ever, but his eyes had softened the moment they found yours.
He crouched beside your chair rather than standing over you, bringing himself to your level.
"Is everything all right?" he asked softly. "Do you require anything?"
"I'm fine," you answered quietly.
He studied your face for a long moment.
"You may tell me," he said, his tone as gentle as the rain against the glass.
Your fingers twisted together tightly.
"I think..." you began hesitantly, searching for words that never seemed to come as easily as everyone else's. "I think I'll just sit here for a little while."
Hannibal nodded
"I'm sorry," you whispered after a moment.
His brow furrowed ever so slightly, "What are you apologising for?"
"I don't know how..." You paused, swallowing around the lump in your throat. "I don't know how to talk to them."
"I wanted to. I really wanted to make you proud."
Hannibal reached for your hands, gently untangling your fingers before enclosing them within his own.
"My dear," he said warmly, his thumb brushing over your knuckles, "you were doing wonderfully."
You blinked, "I was?"
"Yes," he answered without hesitation.
"I kept saying the wrong things."
"There are no wrong things," Hannibal replied calmly.
You frowned slightly, "They stopped talking to me."
"They exhausted their own ability to contribute," he corrected with quiet certainty.
Despite yourself, a small smile tugged at your lips.
Hannibal smiled in return.
"I watched you this evening," he admitted. "You made an effort because you knew it mattered to me... I know how difficult that was for you. I saw every conversation you began."
He lifted one of your hands and pressed a lingering kiss against your fingers, "I also saw your courage."
"You should not measure your success by whether strangers understand you," Hannibal continued gently. "Measure it by the fact that you tried despite your discomfort."
"I am immensely proud of you." He smiled ever so slightly.
"And," he added, "I would be delighted to hear everything you know about nineteenth-century opera."
"I suspect," Hannibal said thoughtfully, "that your observations are considerably more interesting than those of my guests."
"They might become rather detailed."
"I should hope so."
"They could last an hour."
"I shall consider myself fortunate."
You shook your head, a genuine smile spreading across your face now, "You really don't mind?"
"My love," Hannibal said tenderly, reaching up to brush a loose strand of hair behind your ear, "there are very few things I enjoy more than listening to you speak about something you love."
The ache that had settled inside your chest all evening began to loosen.
Because the one person whose opinion truly mattered had never wanted you to be anyone other than yourself.
You leaned forward, your lips met his in a gentle, lingering kiss.
When you pulled away, Hannibal rested his forehead lightly against yours.
You smiled, your heart feeling lighter than it had all evening.
Thinking about German shepherd shifter!reader?? Who was a previous member of the shadow company experiencing culture shock with the 141??
Meeting price and feeling so confused when he doesn't so much as reach for your collar beyond giving it a raised brow. It feels odd not having his dominance reasserted, and it leaves you feeling off-kilter. Sure, you know implicitly that price is in charge, but you also feel like an outsider without him claiming ownership.
Then you meet soap and ghost, and truly feel as though you've fallen into some twisted reality. Both of them are undoubtedly shifters by the smell alone, but they greet you in human form. Not only that, they greet you like shifters while in human form, reaching out their wrists for you to scent them.
And god, don't they realize that price is right there? your nerves raise as he watches passively. Is this a test? Surely, it's a test. So you gently pull away, subtly turn your head in a rejection that has soap's lips curling. Still, when you hold out a hand for a human greeting, they accept.
But it doesn't stop there. Every interaction for the weeks following just feels...wrong. Like everyone was in one some ruleset that you were left to figure out. Ghost spent a lot of his time shifted, but you hardly ever saw Soap shift? And even in their dog forms, Gaz and Price talked to them like humans?
Eating is horrible, because they all seem to agree on team meals. Eating at a table always made you nervous, especially when everyone was familiar. The few times you joined your peers in the mess back with the shadows, people were constantly stealing food off each other's plates and laughing around. Except you weren't allowed to take food back because that's rude and it leaves your gums aching whenever a hand strays too close to your plate even if they never grab.
The worst part has to be sleeping, though. You're used to a crate, or maybe a small space under another shadow's bed, but now you have a whole room? And it feels so empty. It makes your skin crawl and leaves you pacing anxious circles into the floor. The space is so big, and your bed is too low to the ground to fit under it, but you don't want to move anything in case Price gets mad and– you end up not really sleeping at all.
Every single day, while you run laps in the morning before breakfast, the guys gather around and worry. Worry about you, about what they're doing wrong. How the hell they can even begin to help you when you reject them at every turn.
While you feel like all your bids for attention are being ignored, they wait desperately for you to reach out.
Pairing: Andrew Pope Cody x fem!reader OC (Luna/Princess)
Warnings: +18 heavy angst, blood, domestic violence, murder, psychological break, dissociation, panic attacks, hyperventilation, knife.
Summary: driven to the absolute edge by an abusive relationship, you show up at the Cody house covered in blood after killing your boyfriend.
A/N I had this in my drafts, it was a part of a fic I never started, enjoy it !!
Disclaimer: This story is pure fiction and written solely for entertainment purposes.
The smell of copper reached Andrew even before he got off his motorcycle.
It was late. Deran parked right behind Andrew, and the roar of their engines died away as the garage door closed behind them.
Andrew saw you as soon as he got in.
You were sitting on the concrete, huddled next to the rear wheel of Smurf's car. He couldn't tell if you'd gotten in on your own or if Smurf had opened the gate, but it didn't matter at that moment.
His throat closed up when he saw the large bruises on your body and the cuts on your face. You were practically naked, wearing only a pale lace bra and panties, shivering violently. But it wasn't the cold that was making you shiver.
You were soaked in blood.
Not a spray. A torrent.
It was matted in your hair, smeared across your chest, drying dark and tacky along your thighs.
In your right hand, locked in a cadaveric grip, was a ten inch chef’s knife.
"Pope..." Deran’s voice cracked, dropping his helmet. "Holy shit."
Andrew didn't speak.
His world narrowed down to the sound of your ragged breathing.
For months, he had watched you rot from the inside out.
He’d seen the way he spoke to you. The subtle poisonous words at first: You’re useless, you’re crazy, nobody else would ever look at you.
Then the loud ones, shouted through the walls while Andrew stood on the street outside, jaw clenched so hard his teeth felt like they’d shatter, waiting for a signal to go in and tear the man apart.
Deran had begged you to leave him.
Andrew had silently stalked your driveway, a ghost in the dark, keeping guard through a week of escalating screaming matches.
They had tried to protect you.
But they were too late for whatever happened tonight.
Andrew approached you like he’d approach a wounded animal: slow and deliberate. His eyes were wide with a rare panic.
"Hey, princess," Andrew murmured, dropping down to his knees right in front of you on the concrete. "Hey. Whose blood is it?"
Your eyes were wide, glassy, staring straight through the wall in front of you. Your jaw was trembling so hard your teeth chattered loudly in the quiet space.
"He wouldn't shut up," you whispered. Your voice was ruined. "He wouldn't- he wouldn't shut up. He said... he said those things... He said he’d break me."
"He's wrong," Deran said, his voice choking back a wave of nausea as he hovered just behind Pope, wildly looking around for a towel, a blanket, anything. "Whatever he said he's wrong, princess. We talked about this."
"Deran.." Andrew warned. "Go inside. Don't tell Smurf, or Craig." Deran nodded and followed his command, trusting him with you.
"I told him..." You let out a terrifying laughter, dry and completely shattered. "I told him I was losing it tonight and he just laughed... fucking asshole laughing at me."
Your voice spiked into a screech on the last word, the knife trembling violently in your fist as you pointed it at Andrew 's chest. Your chest heaved, a manic grin tearing across your blood stained lips before dropping just as fast into utter emptiness.
"He liked me quiet, didn't he?" you breathed, your eyes locking onto Andrew's with intensity. "He liked me quiet, Andrew... and I'm fucking crazy. He KNEW I would do it, I fucking warned him."
The psychotic break in your voice tore right through Andrew's chest. Andrew didn't move away from the blade aimed at his heart.
He knew that madness.
"Luna..." Andrew said quietly, trying to find you in the storm of your collapsing mind. "Princess, give me th-"
"He wouldn't shut up... he was laughing... he wouldn't stop..." You slipped right back into the loop, your head shaking frantically as the knife dropped lower, your body convulsing with fresh tremors. "and then, the noise... the noise just... stopped. I needed him to stop."
Andrew slowly reached out, his hand hovering over the blade. He saw the way your fingers were locked around the wooden hilt. Your knuckles were completely white, the tendons strained to their absolute limit.
"Give me the knife," Andrew said gently. "Give it to me, princess."
You squeezed the hilt tighter. "He was so loud, Andrew. I had to do it."
"I know. I know he was," Andrew whispered. He gently laid his hand over yours, over the sticky hilt.
Your whole body tensed up, as you thought back to the situation from hours before.
"Hey, look at me, come back to me," Andrew commanded.
Finally, your wild eyes dragged away from the memory and locked onto his. The unadulterated horror bleed through your manic haze nearly brought Andrew Cody to his knees.
"I've got you," Andrew promised, his thumb gently smoothing over your bloody knuckles. "He can't laugh at you anymore. He's never going to scream at you again. You hear me? It's over. But you gotta let go of this now. Let me take it."
It took long seconds. Slowly, finger by finger, your hand uncurled. The muscles in your forearm quivered with exhaustion as your grip finally failed.
Andrew carefully slid the knife out of your hand. Without taking his eyes off you, he slid it across the cement, away from you.
The second the weapon was gone, the adrenaline burned out, leaving only ruin.
You stared at your bloodied hands as if seeing them for the very first time. The manic fog cleared just enough for the crushing weight of reality to collapse right onto you. You caved inward, clutching frantically at your bare, blood streaked stomach, your chest violently heaving.
"D- Did I hurt-" the words choked out of you, raw and horrified. You looked up at Andrew, your eyes blown wide with sudden comprehension. "Did I hurt you? Oh God, Andrew, I hurted him, is he dead? I didn't mean to-Andrew, I didn't mean to-"
You couldn't catch your breath, hyperventilating, sobbing so hard your whole body convulsed.
Andrew pulled off his jacket, wrapped it tightly around your shoulders, and pulled you up into his chest. He dragged your violently shaking body completely into his lap, wrapping his arms around you like a vice, burying his face in your blood matted hair.
"I'm okay, you didn't hurt me," Andrew muttered. He held you tight enough to keep you from falling apart completely, letting your tears and the drying blood smear across his neck and shirt. "I don't know exactly what happened, but I've got you, okay?"
He didn't care about the mess, the blood, you tears soacking his clothes. He didn't care about the body that was sitting in an apartment a few miles away, or the nightmare cleanup they were going to have to do.
He cared about you.
"I'm right here," Andrew kept repeating into your hair, his own eyes burning with tears as he rocked you back and forth on the garage floor. "I'll take care of it. Don't worry."
nanami's daughter went through an identity crisis at the age of four.
you were teaching her how to write her own name. she happily exclaimed that she can do it herself, after all papa taught her all the alphabets. she clumsily jot down her supposed name and showed it to you, looking very much proud
suethart nanami
you were confused but told her this was not her name. she looked up at you with confused big doe eyes, the color the same as your husband's
"but thats what papa calls me?"
you chuckled behind your hand and explained to her what her actual name was and how it wasnt sweetheart. she looked so devastated that you almost wanted to rename her.
"no, its sweetheart!"
later that evening, before nanami could even announce he was home and put out his shoes, his daughter went to him running
"papa! whats my name??" she asked very firmly, with arms crossed and brows furrowed
he raised his eyebrow at you to see if it was another tiktok prank where he was supposed to call her 'my princess' (hed gladly do that). you just shrugged your shoulders at him, looking very much done. he fondly huffed, things are always so chaotic with you two, but he wouldnt have it any other way. he smiled softly and patted his baby's fluffy haired head
"sweetheart, at least let me put out my shoes first-"
she cheered happily and threw herself in nanamis arms. out of instinct, he held her, with all the gentleness in the world.
"see mama?? i told you my name was sweetheart!!" she then proceeded to give you a 'i told you so' look
nanami, still very much confused and not out of his shoes looked at you, asking for help. you just sighed heavily
later during dinner time, you and nanami both taught your baby about real names and pet names. she got so pouty after she learnt that her name was neither sweetheart nor baby nor honey, it was taking nanami a lot of willpower to not her rename her sweetheart and bring back her sunny smile. but you reassured her that to you guys she will forever be 'sweetheart'. she lit up at your words and proceeded to happily munch her food
nanami blinked. well that was easy.
tho she had another breakdown when she found out that your name wasnt actually 'my love'.
edit : i have a papa geto work too! pls check it out on my profile!! ty :))
Guys hear me out on ghost who never experienced actual arousal before...
Sure, he finds plenty of people attractive, but that has always been a fleeting note to him. Something to acknowledge amidst the anxiety, trauma, depression and fear of his everyday. Ghost can appreciate a good body, but he doesn't experience physical arousal.
That is, until he meets you during a joint operation.
Strong, kind, safe. You're the first soldier he's met that makes him feel truly okay. It's only natural ghost ends up becoming a little obsessed. Well, you aren't one to complain about a big masked man trailing you like a lost puppy.
Which means the first time you kiss him his knees nearly buckle, and it's a good thing you're in his barracks because he lets out the most pathetic whine of "mmmhh— fuckkk– what is...what."
He seems confused at the sudden warm tug in his gut, how his pants feel tight, so damn sensitive.
Ghosts entire body shudders with desire from that small kiss, acting purely instinct when he grabs your hips and presses himself tight to you with a groaned "what the fuck..."
His brows knit together, overstimulated from all the new sensations. Ghost, this giant of a man who you've personally seen kill people, is humping you like a mutt. He pants and whines "I've never– i don't– holy shit–"
His hips stutter, and just like that ghost is coming into his boxers all from humping you between clothes, face flushed.
Embarrassed and wide-eyed, ghost pulls back to see your absolutely delighted face "simon...have you never gotten hard before??"
"....no." he huffs, then adds "...can I do that again?"
