#I saw the notif and was like “Oh yay! I was tagged in some art my mutual made!” AND I SAW TRANS TAKAAKI AND I'M SO HAPPYYYY

[brainfilehasstoppedworking]

OMG OMG OMG O OOOOHHHH!!!! MY MUTUAL DRAWING TRANS TAKAAKI REAL!!! HE LOOKS SO GOOD WHAT DO YOU MEAN?!??!?!?!?!? DON'T APOLOGIZE!!!! (Calmly: I love how you drew him. He's absolutely beautiful and I love.)

Okay so I wanted to draw this for you @brainfilehasstoppedworking because, I dunno, I like you and I like trans Takaaki but umm... I don't know where this piece went wrong

I have been fiddling with this for the last...

*checks notes*

Hour

And it still looks bad :((((((( I just can't draw adult men I'm so sorry

I promise to get back with some good art of trans Takaaki soon

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Portrait of a Dangerous Man🎨4

Warnings: (series) non-consent sex and rape; slow creep; cucking; (this chapter) only plot hehe

This is dark!mob!Clark Kent x reader and explicit. 18+ only.  Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Synopsis: Your dream of having your work hung in an art show comes true but your first buyer is not all he seems to be.

Note: I’m at my tipping point, I swear. I’m dealing with everything in our household, new bed (delayed delivery yay!), cleaning, cooking, dog walking, and working. My only escape are my fics and this weekend I’m telling everyone to fuck off so I can do the writeathon... but sorry for the rant, enjoy more Clark.

Thanks to everyone for reading and thanks in advance for all your feedback. :)

I really hope you enjoy. 💋

<3 As usual, I’d appreciate if you let me know what you think with a like or reblog or reply or an ask! Love ya!

Wednesday trickled by like sand in a glass. You could hardly keep your eyes open as you typed away and a double espresso shot was the only thing that saw you through your hours at the gallery. Vanessa was excited for her next event and already asking after some new pieces from you. You promised her some from your storage unit to stave her off as you held in your yawns. 

You collapsed into bed that night beside Marcus. He complained about his day until he drifted off and you followed suit shortly after. You awoke with a decision, the echoes of your boyfriend’s gripes in your head and heart. You hated how miserable his job made him, how dull your own was. It felt like there was nothing else but the almighty dollar.

You called Clark after an email to Jim, your nerves alight in anticipation of the disgruntled reply. It didn’t matter. You were done. You didn’t need to worry about the all caps messages and curt zoom calls.

“Hey,” Clark picked up, he sounded out of breath.

“Oh, hey, sorry, it’s me,” you swiveled in your chair, “I hope I’m not disturbing you.”

“Nope, just getting in a work out,” he grunted, “you’re not bugging me if you have good news for me.”

“I think… I do,” you forced out, “I just sent in my resignation.”

“Mmm, you don’t sound… happy,” he hummed.

“I am, I think I’m just processing it,” you replied, “I said I’d let you know today so I’m letting you know.”

“Well, how soon can you be here?” he asked.

“Today?”

“Sure, why not?”

“I guess, I could leave as soon as you want me,” you said.

“I’ll send a car,” he intoned, “I’ll give the driver your number, if you don’t mind.”

“Yeah,” your voice almost squeaked, “I can do that.”

“Alright, sweetheart, see ya soon.”

The line cut out and you lowered your phone slowly. You stared at Outlook and the new email icon along the taskbar. You closed the laptop and stood. You could worry about the fallout later, right now, you had to get ready for another day of painting.

🎨

It was starting to feel like deja vu every time you arrived at Clark’s house. You got out and thanked the drive, Jeremy, before he drove off. The doors opened before you got to the top of the steps and your host was already dressed in the same outfit he wore for each session. His hair was neat but his beard was even thicker than before.

“I think you can tell I’m a little antsy to start,” he chuckled, “how are you, sweetheart?”

That pet name caught in your mind again. It might just be a habit of his. Nothing more than an absent-minded word.

“Me too, honestly,” you smiled, “but I have a weird question for you.”

“Ask away,” he said as he walked with you through the foyer.

“The beard… you want that in the portrait or--”

“Oh, ha, yeah,” he ran his fingers along his jawline, “I guess I wasn’t thinking. You’re the artist, what do you think?”

“Well, erm, either way is fine,” you said, “I was just… wondering. I’m not even close to starting on, uh, you yet. I mean, right now I’m just working on the background and basic shapes.”

“I’ll let you make the call when you get there,” he said, “say the word and it’s gone.”

“Alright,” you came to the top of the stairs and he pointed you ahead of him.

He followed you as you entered and you went about filling the jar with water and resituating the set up. He sat as you mixed and chose your brush. You climbed the ladder and peered around the canvas at him. He took on the same pose as usual and you dipped the bristles into the pigment. You could make a happy life of this.

🎨

Clark shifted and cleared his throat. You rolled your wrist and glanced back over at him as you drew your hand back from the canvas. He braced the chair and pushed himself up.

“How about a break?” he asked as he shook out his arms, “back’s a bit stiff.”

“Sure,” you said, “I think I could sit down for a moment.”

You took a step down the rung of the ladder but your toe slipped and suddenly your palette was against your chest. You slid down backwards as Clark rushed over and barely kept you from toppling the entire thing over. You laughed at yourself as he righted you and looked down at your paint-streaked shirt.

“Jesus,” you muttered.

“You okay?” he asked as he kept his hand on your upper arm, “be careful.”

“Yeah, I’m-- clumsy, is all,” you carefully pulled away and set down your brush and palette.

“Come on, sit,” he pulled up the stool and planted it before you, “take a minute.”

As you sat, he stretched his arms over his head and then out to the sides. He paced around the other side of the table, long strides as he worked the cramps from his long legs. He stopped and came up to play with a brush as you leaned an elbow on the table.

“Well, I did have another offer for you,” he said, “I was thinking of waiting but might as well ask now.”

“Oh?” you raised your brows curiously.

He swished a slender brush in the air then lowered it and picked at the tip.

“I’m having a get together on Saturday, some business friends and the like,” he said as he set the brush back with the rest, “it won’t be work. You’ve earned some time off. You can even bring the boyfriend.”

“Saturday?” you pondered, “I’m usually at the gallery on Saturdays.”

“It would be great networking,” he said, “and I already told all my friends about you. They’re excited to see your work. It will almost be like a viewing and it’s only right the artist is there.”

“I could make it work,” you mulled, “Marcus would love to come back.” You snickered, “he loves this place.”

“It’s a nice house,” he said casually, “a bit big for one person… hence, the party.”

“I’ll put it in my calendar,” you stood and slid your palette closer and cleaned it off to remix the mess of paints.

“Great,” he said as he rounded the table and brushed close to you, “it’ll be nice to look at a mug besides mine, huh?”

You laughed as you squeezed out the dark paint and nodded, “ha, sure.”

🎨

The rest of your week was spent much the same. Jeremy drove you to Clark’s and you went up to the studio to continue your work between small talk and silences that grew so thick you had to break them with mindless comments. It wasn’t enough to focus on the path of your brush as the man tugged at your attention.

Marcus was excited when you told him about the party. He raved about how he needed to let loose, about how much expensive alcohol he was going to drink, and the awesome backflip he was gonna do into the pool. You reminded him, he hadn’t done anything like that since college but he swore he could still do it.

You didn’t share the sentiment. You were anxious. You were flattered to be invited but despite what Clark said, it still felt like work. His friends were going to be there and he apparently was trying to sell them on your art. 

You didn’t realise until after you hit send on your email, but you put your livelihood in this man’s hands. A man, you reminded yourself, who was little more than a stranger.

On Friday, a day you were thankfully not called to the mansion to teeter on the ladder and paint, the buzzer rang and drew you off the couch from amid your YouTube binge. The man on the speaker called back that he had a delivery and you let him up. You took the box from him, the thick silver ribbon giving away the sender even before you could read the tag.

Inside you found a black dress with little gemstones set into the fabric like stars in the sky. It was nicer than anything you’d ever owned before and a pair of silver shoes were tucked in beneath the outfit. You took the shoes from the tissue paper and something else shifted in the bottom.

You reached in and revealed a velvet box from the depths of overzealous stuffing. You opened the lid and found a simple chain of diamonds. You gaped in disbelief. They were real. The fake ones didn’t look so nice.

You phone chimed before you could even think to call Clark. It was as if he could see you. You answered and your voice warbled pathetically.

“Hi, I was just gonna call,” you touched your throat as it constricted.

“Yeah? I got the notification that it was delivered,” he said, “you like it?”

“It’s too much,” you gulped out, “really, I can’t--”

“I want you to look nice. I want you to feel good and have a good time,” he said, “I feel like you’ve been working so hard. You need a chance to just let it all go.”

“Look, I…” you were uncertain how to handle it. It was more than generosity but you felt wrong denying it as much as you did accepting it, “I’ve never had a boss buy me diamonds. At least let me give those back.”

“Boss?” he mused on the word, “I suppose, but you gotta dress the part now, sweetheart. You’re gonna rub shoulders with a lot of rich dicks like me. Pardon my language.”

“I didn’t realise it was such an upscale thing,” you put the velvet box down and turned to sit on the couch beside the large box. You played with the silver ribbon and chewed your lip.

“Sweetheart, it’s nothing, you got this,” he said, “trust me, if you can win me over, my friends will be child’s play.”

“Mhmmm,” you stared at the tv mindlessly, “Clark?”

“Yeah?”

“Why are you doing all this?”

There was silence and you heard him sigh then a subtle metallic click.

“Because I can. And you’re a talented artist. Didn’t all the big painters used to have patrons back in the day? You know, Da Vinci and all that.”

“Sure, I guess--”

“Look, sweetheart, I’m glad you like the dress, I gotta go.”

He hung up abruptly and you turned your phone to stare at it in confusion. You were starting to get a bad feeling and that little voice in that back of your head, that little sabotaging bitch, whispered in your ear. No, you wouldn’t let your self-doubt get the best of you this time. You either grabbed this chance or you spent the rest of your life doing menial work and painting the world as it passed you by.

🎨

Friday night, Marcus couldn’t stop rambling about the party the next day. You just couldn’t get over the tickle in your chest, the same one you got before job interviews and doctor’s appointments. You were on edge, even as you spent your stress on him, your body writhing against his as you panted and pouted. It had been a while since you fucked. All the work and the stress had just let things slip past you. Maybe with your new gig, you could get back to those early days when it was all you wanted to do.

You slept soundly. You blamed the sex and the momentous week. You got up, had a lazy brunch time meal, and beat Marcus at MarioKart several times over before he convinced you it was time to get ready. 

You pulled on the gifted outfit after fighting with your make-up and hair. You gave a little tada spin to Marcus and he lifted his brow as he tried to figure out his tie.

“Wow, where’d you get that?” he purred, “fuck, let’s be late.”

He ran his hands over your hips as you neared him and fixed his tie for him. You giggled and planted a kiss on his lips.

“Jeremy’s on his way,” you warned, “I don't wanna bite the hand that feeds.”

“Oh, and it feeds you well,” Marcus chirped, “you think he’ll let me have a spin in the McClaren?”

“Maybe, but I wouldn’t. I don’t need to scrape you off the side of the road,” you took your phone as the screen lit up, “come on, he’s here.”

“Fuck, babe, really, you’re gonna make me follow you out of here with your ass looking like that?”

“Stop,” you tittered, “you know, there might be more sellers tonight?”

“Oh yeah? I guess you’ll be paying a mortgage soon enough.”

“Me?” you scoffed.

“Sure, I’ll be your sugar baby,” he kidded.

“Well, baby is accurate,” you teased as you stepped onto the elevator, “please, just behave.”

🎨

You were surprised to see Vanessa at the party but reassured to see a familiar face. Clark had been distracted by his other guests and you did your best to mingle, letting Marcus take the lead until he was distracted by another guest’s Rolex and started asking too many questions. If you did start selling art to these kinds, you suspected you’d be paying for a lot of overpriced brands. That was a worry for another time.

You stood with Vanessa and a man she introduced you to. Bruce Wayne was tall and his dark-hair was combed back neatly as he spoke over the glass of wine in his hand. You were bored of the Monet-Manet argument, one you’d heard a million times from the stubborn gallery owner, and you were at your limit of socialisation.

You excused yourself and put down your unfinished drink on a table. You looked around but couldn’t see Marcus anywhere. The last you saw him, he was with Clark but you couldn’t find him either. You frowned and wandered between the pairs and trios gabbing around the room.

Just past the bar, you looked back and still no sign of either man. You huffed and your heels clicked into the foyer and to the stairs. You’d go to the studio and sit for a moment and collect yourself. You just needed to take a breath.

You climbed the stairs slowly, the din of the party floating up behind you. You came to the top but stopped as your eyes were drawn to a pair of open doors opposite the studio. You neared and stayed against the wall as you peeked inside. Marcus admired an old-six shooter and spun the barrel.

“You got everything, man, I swear,” you hid behind the door frame and listened.

“Eh, it’s all just things,” Clark replied, “I bought that from an auctioneer down in Texas. A verified antique but it just hangs here. Not good for much but looking at it.”

“Dude, what I wouldn’t do to live here? Have cool guns and even cooler cars? Shit, you know how fucked it is that my lady is making bank and I’m over here with my dick in my hands? I mean, I’m proud of her but… I mean, if I could get paid thousands for drawing, I would’ve tried to learn.”

“She’s good. Dedicated,” Clark remarked, “she’s special. Worth more than money.”

Marcus hummed and you heard the barrel click back into the place. Neither of the men spoke as you heard something shift and Clark cleared his throat. Subtle footsteps moved around the room and you pressed yourself to the wall. You should leave and let them talk but you couldn’t help but be curious.

“Isn’t she?” Clark prodded.

“Y-yeah, but… I don’t know. I just wish I had more,” Marcus said, “I probably sound like a chump, huh?”

“You can’t have it all,” Clark replied.

“Says the guy who can buy anything and everything,” Marcus moped.

“Oh?” Clark intoned, “so… how about it then? Fifty thousand.”

“For what?” Marcus chuckled nervously.

“Her,” Clark answered.

“Her-- I… my girlfriend?” he sputtered.

“If money can buy me anything, that’s what I want,” Clark said firmly, “it’s a one time offer… whether or not you agree to it, I’m gonna fuck her.”

You skin crawled at his words and you covered your mouth in disgust and shock. You inched closer to the door to hear better as you waited for the response.

“One hundred,” Marcus said.

“Seventy-five,” Clark countered.

“That’s my girlfriend, dude,” Marcus hissed.

“And yet you’re haggling with me over her. Eighty.”

You tore yourself from the wall before you could hear anymore. You felt hollow and heavy all at once. Your eyes were glossy as you scurried over to the studio doors and pushed the left one open. You unhooked the diamond necklace and tossed it onto the paint-stained palette and rolled up your brushes.

You stormed over blindly to the easel and pushed it over. It clattered to the floor loudly but you were already out the door and halfway down the stairs. You gripped your clutch and the bundle of paintbrushes tightly as you continued on outside and the blurred outlines of luxury cars passed you by. 

You stomped up the long drive in your heels as you flicked away tears and pulled out your phone. You knew it was too good to be true. Any of it; your art, Clark, Marcus. You weren’t good for anyone unless they could get something out of you.

[selfcareparker]

okay fghsgdj yes you can say girl ! my pronouns are she/her :) okay but fr pause, i read this like 3 minutes after you posted it (or at least my notif said 3mins lmao) bUT IM IN BED AND I USUALLY HAVE MY COMPUTER OPEN WITH YOUR RESPONSE SO I MAKE SURE I ADDRESS EVERYTHING AND THEN SEND IN THE ASK ON MY PHONE HDGSJSH anyway, time to get my ass up 😔 but wait i find you so funny like honestly, reading that cracked me all the way up. and i feel the “lol” thing so hard!!!! idk why i do it all the time (i’m tryna stop) but i’ll say something with lol at the beginning and lol at the end... it might be a defense mechanism at this point lol (😔) AND (i need to stop with the uppercase too it’s not funny anymore) I DONT KNOW WHY I LAUGHED SO HARD JDHSK WHEN YOU SAID ALSO AGAIN HAHAHAH LIKE UR HAHHAH also my sleep schedule is not pretty either lmao but i’m homeschooled so i never have to get up for anything? hhdhsis idk but i’m glad you slept!! you need sleep!!

also (pls no i cannot) why did i not know what ykwim meant until i reread this?? like it makes so much sense- anyway! i think it’s so cool that you’re excited for university! idk why but i do lol like you’re getting ready for the future (masters degree and all that) & you’re (maybe) going to england anyway so that’s cool haha (hopefully when you go you can see your relatives 🤞🏾)

the fact that you get happy seeing my asks i- 💓💓

you make me wanna go to London & England so bad urghhhh like i’ve only been out of the country once (to Canada for a family reunion) but it sounds so prettyyyyy & i’m so sorry that cov*d is messing everything up and i hope you can see your relatives soon :(

now to address the whole english speaking/writing: I FIND THAT SO WEIRD DUHSKSJ i don’t know how an english speaking person could say that if you don’t write it 100% grammatically correct.... that it’s wrong? when literally, over here at least, WE’RE SO GRAMMATICALLY INCORRECT HAHHAAH in both the way we talk and write!! and lol you’re welcome,, AND THE PARAGRAPH DID MAKE SENSE HDHSJSH & your rant is fine because... that is actually a bit ??? bc no one writes with 100% grammar lol

OH MY GOSH (see this uppercase thing is addictive) YOU STUDIED LATIN FOR 6 YEARS??? that’s really cool 🥺 the way that you know/speak 3+ languages i- NOT EVEN 3+ LIKE 6+ (german, english, latin, french, serbian, italian, and everything that comes with latin lmao) even if it’s just a tiny bit like wowee. it is really fascinating!!! i had the opportunity to take latin and i... didnt. i took art instead BUT ONLY CUZ MY FRIENDS WERE IN THAT CLASS AND ART LOOKED FUN IM SORRY

PLEASE WHY DO YOU KNOW EVERYONE?? that sounds so fricking cool tell your mom (mum or mama it’s really fine lol) that she sounds awesome. i think Jamaica would be fun either way!! i mean it looks pretty from pictures? i was a baby so i honestly have no recollection hahaha

LMAOO NOT U SAYING THIS IS LONGER THAN SOME OF MY FICS- PLEASE GIRL IM TELLING YOU I VERBALLY LAUGHED HAHAHAHAHAH but yea you really don’t need to apologize i like reading everything you say 🥺 HDKSHS AND UR FINE WE WERE JUST TALKING ABOUT ME BEFORE uhhh hmm uhh lemme think i, well, i saw chaos walking yesterday (big tom holland fan over here) and it was alright.. my mom acted a fool at all the jump scares LMAO but it was funny... since i’m talking about movies (this is hella random i know) but i like shark movies HDKJSSJ my favorite is the meg (it’s so good ohmigosh) and the 47 meters down movies aren’t bad either... i have two younger brothers... iiiii AM IN LOVE WITH MUSIC PHEW anddd i’m homeschooled (i think i mentioned that lol) i think that’s a good amount ahahaha AND IM HUNGRY RN JDHSJ

now. please. let me address the edit. i just want you to know that.. when i talk about your fics and i finish them and everything i’m not looking for more? like obviously if you’re writing i’m gonna read it but you don’t need to feel pressured or anything (idk if you do) to put more fics out lol like they’re great and i’m just sending the praise bc i love the ones that are there :’) but i’m so happy you���re working through your writers block!!! yay so so happy for you!!! and PUHLEASE anything you write is fantastic, i feel the exact same way when i write but girl. you’re fine. it’s gonna be great. (idk if this made any sense but... okay)

(and my cousin calls her mom mama so it’s really okay hahah i even call my mom mama sometimes) (and where you got the number “16 sentences” beats me but i still cracked up) (is this me pretending i had tags? maybe) HAHAHAHA OK BYE ❤️❤️ why did this take me so long to send i have no clue, AND WHY AM I OVERTHINKING EVERYTHING I SAID SHAJSHSJ ANYWAY BYE btw i love us too... like iconic // lovely anon 💓

me reading this:

also the dedication you put into sending me stuff— like with the laptop and phone and ahsksk 🥺🥺🥺

i’ll update you when i’ve started uni btw, i’m getting more and more excited every single day haha but i still have 3 weeks until it starts and even then I’ll obviously have to get used to it and everything, but you’re making me even more excited about it sksjshsg

yeah i wanna go to england too dkshsh let’s be sad together over the fact the we can’t travel eksjsh😔😭 but hopefully the wait will make it even better in the end <33 also i talk to loads of relatives over the phone at least once a week so it’s not too bad for me! but i miss their house 😭lmao

and i knowww snshsh so many native english speakers just make so many mistakes— and obviously i get that some things are slang but some things are simply wrong ajsh, the thing is no one has ever told me that my english is bad (i know it’s not bad anyway, but i’m still insecure) or no one has ever pointed out any mistakes, but yeah it’s mostly just insecurity dkshsg but yes thanks for saying what you said (previously as well as in this ask)😌🥰

Okay now for latin— girlll i don’t blame u for choosing art over latin esp. when all of your friends are doing art as well!! I’d choose art over latin as well lol skshsg but in year 6 we had to choose between latin and french, and at the time i didn’t like french? which was dumb of me and now i wanna learn french ekdhs but i don’t regret choosing latin at all bc if i properly learn french one day then i’ll already know understand loads of stuff (or at least some stuff lol) just thanks to latin 😌😌 but still, art>>>latin skskshshgs

I wanna watch chaos walking too!!! But i don’t get when/where/how it’s out lmao, cinemas are still closed here so i’ll either have to wait or find it somewhere online... il*egally 🥰 i don’t have high expectations at all btw but i like daisy and tom and the dog🥺 so i think i’ll enjoy it

GIRL SHARK FILMS SHARK FOLMS SKSJSHSHS okay so there are a few classics i haven’t watched yet, and also a few new ones that i haven’t seen yet BUT I LOVE SHARK FILMS SO MUCH SKSHSGSGSKK the first like proper shark film i ever watched was the shallows (which i like but my brain is still too small to comprehend what happened at the end (i mean i get it but i just can’t imagine it— idek if you’ve seen the film but skshhs)) and after watching it three times it does get a bit boring (but now whenever i see pictures or videos of big waves i’m just waiting for a shark to show up like come ON SKSJSG

^^^that pic/scene really traumatised me sksjsh but i still like the film

I only watched jaws like a few months ago, and i get that it’s a classic and also that it’s old and they just didn’t have the best.. equipment or special effects or whatever but i mean... look at meg and then look at jaws.... no disrespect to jaws at ALL but the meg is so much cooler. (That one scene on the boat where the shark just JUMPS OUT OF THE WATER AND SKSJSHHSUSJHA i get such a shock every time it’s so good (and the dog aww aksjshssli 🥺🥺🥰 and the boy with the ice cream lmao he’s iconic)

47 metres down, wow, i liked that film too. (i’ve only watched the original/first one i think) i mean that is such a fucking nightmare scenario like ALSJDHSNEMSKDJSHSJSKWBALSODUEWBSLDKHDJSNSKSKSHSGEBWKAISGSHEKEKSKLDJDJDHDHSHAGGA (that’s the best way i can express my feelings about that scenario lmao)

oh and i’ve recently been watching more horror films but i don’t know if they’re for me... I like the thrill and whatever but i just end up being scared for my life when i have to go to the bathroom at night or when i’m trying to sleep bc suddenly my mind is flooded with all the scary shit from the films 💀💀💀

and music i mean... you know those people who just don’t listen to music? WHAT IS WRONG WITH THEM???? i honestly like all genres especially in the last year, i am IN LOVE with Nicki Minaj + Megan andddd Stormzy and i like Harry Styles but i prefer his first solo album (and obviously one direction has bangers i have a throwback 1D session at least once a month), I also love MGK especially his new stuff and otherwise i mostly listen to german artists lmao. So who do you like?💖 (WHY DO I FEEL LIKE YOURE GONNA SAY SOMETHING COMPLETELY DIFFERENT SKAHAGUS IF YOU LISTEN TO COMPLETELY DIFFERENT MUSIC DONT JUDGE ME AJSHDJS) (i know you’re not gonna judge me but)

++ @ the thing you said about writing, don’t worry, i don’t feel pressured at all!!! (not by you and not by anybody else.. except myself sometimes lol) and i’m just very happy that you liked my fics 🥰🥰🥰 and if i start telling people that i’m writing a fic then sometimes it puts a bit of (healthy) pressure on me. like yes sometimes it really is writer’s block, but sometimes i really am just lazy ddkshhd so now that i’ve told you i’m writing a fic i might get my ass up quicker than i would if i hadn’t told anyone 😌😌😌

[worldwidebt7]

Hell(L)ing || 02

§ — Pairing: Chimera!Taehyung x Empath!Reader (with mentions of Reader x Other Members)

§ — Genre: SciFi AU, fluff, angst, smut, horror

§ — Wordcount: 3,161

§ — Rating: M

§ — Warnings: My attempt at writing something creepy...? So, I’ll be both sorry and glad if it does scare you a little hahaha

§ — A/N: Chapter 2! Yay! I’m surprised to actually be tagging people for this! I’ve never had anyone want to be tagged in my written stories before... It makes me so happy! Writing and drawing are BOTH great creative passions for me, which is why comics are what I lean towards on most days, but sometimes I want to swiftly move through a story, and drawing takes too much time... I know you guys are here for my art, but I hope you’ll enjoy my writing as well! Again, this was originally for @bang-tan-bitches​ ‘Monster Mash Challenge’, which I really wish I had entered, but there was so much good writing that you should definitely check out!

 Summary: You moved out into the wilderness to live a calm, peaceful life. Your abilities made it impossible to live in crowded places, so even if you wanted to you couldn’t return. But when something happens outside the realm of even your normalcy, you start to think that maybe having everyone else’s emotions bearing down on you isn’t such a bad alternative to being trapped with your own.

You spent the remainder of the afternoon pacing around your kitchen, sending glances at the business card on your counter top, and considering calling Seokjin. ‘Genetic Anthropologist’ is what it said on the card; clearly his job title, but you had no idea what it entailed. You could define the words separately, but together it created a delineation that you couldn’t even fathom. His strange career aside, you couldn’t help but be troubled about the boy you saw earlier.

He had been in the area you were fairly certain was now Seokjin’s property, and the fact that the purple-haired man hadn’t mentioned any relatives or roommates concerned you. It was a biting feeling, rather, that you couldn’t shake off. You were rational— you considered it was a friend or family visiting, but there was something so… off about the boy that you feel like you should check on your new neighbor to make sure he was fine. Or at the very least warn him that there was someone lurking near his home.

Deciding that you wouldn’t be able to calm your nerves otherwise, you pulled your phone from your pocket and dialed his number, making a mental note to save it in your contacts afterwards. It rang; once, twice, three times— and continued to ring. For a moment, you mildly panicked; what if something had happened to him? Sucking in a breath, you pulled the phone away to hang up and try again, when you heard a man’s voice come through your phone.

“Hello?” In an instant, you smashed the phone back against your ear in alacrity.

“S-Seokjin? Kim Seokjin?” You replied, your heart racing. You weren’t sure why you were asking if it was really him, but you wouldn’t put it past yourself to type in the wrong number when you were hastily attempting to contact him.

“…Yes…?” His answer was drawn out, a defensive tone slipping through his words. You let out a breath of relief, placing a hand on your chest as your pulse began to stabilize. You hear him clear his throat. “Uh, who is this…?”

“Oh! Right! Sorry, this is Y/N, your neighbor?” Embarrasses, you laugh at yourself. How was he supposed to know that you were calling? And of course you hadn’t say anything— you were more concerned about making sure he was still among the living.

“Oh! Y/N!” His pitch changed drastically at the mention of your name, and you couldn’t help the little smile and shallow eye-roll produced by this. One conversation with this man and you were already reacting to him as if he were a friend. This, while nice, was also alarming considering the deception that dripped off of his emotions when you had contact with him. “How can I be of service?” You could practically hear the purr in his voice, though the question brought you back to why you originally called.

“Oh, um…” Releasing an exhale through your nose, you pondered at your wording for a moment before continuing. “I, uh… I actually wanted to let you know that I saw someone near your house earlier…” Seokjin was silent, not that there was really much to respond to, but he was so still that you couldn’t even hear his breath.

“…Oh?” His voice broke through the thick quiet, and you swallowed, the defensive quality to his tone returning tenfold and turning his usually cheery voice completely stony.

“Y-yeah.” You stuttered, suddenly feeling pressure building in the conversation. “A boy… w-with black hair… He was down by the lake earlier today….” The palm of your hand rubbed nervously on your sweatpants as you flexed and unflexed your fingers. Normally, you didn’t get much through a phone call, voices were rarely an accurate representation of one’s true thoughts, but the weight of his aura was so severe that you felt a chill throughout your body.

“Oh! Yes, that’s my roommate!” His suddenly chipper voice made your head spin. “He won’t be around much, but don’t mind him if you do see him!” He let out a laugh, which didn’t sound particularly genuine. Your brows furrowed, trying to connect all of the doubts flying around in your mind.

“Ah, I see…” You chewed on your bottom lip. As unable as you were to read the situation, you knew something was up— there were truths, half-truths, and lies being told here, of that you were sure, but you couldn’t decide what pieces of information were which. “I’m sorry, I wouldn’t have bothered you if I had known.” You forced your voice to sound light, not wanting to come across rude or give away your reservations about the information being given to you.

“It’s no problem, I must have forgotten to mention him before,” And so he was back to, what you assumed, was his usual self. Alarmingly, you felt yourself relax. “Besides, I’ll always take any excuse to talk to you.” You snort, and a very different sounding laugh echoed through the phone— much like a windshield wiper. That, you could tell, was his true laugh, and what an infectious sound it was. Against your better judgment, you laughed as well.

“Are all conversations with you going to be like this?” You asked, attempting to recollect yourself. It terrified you how easily this man made you relax within his denigrations, and you now realized you would have to build a wall between you and Kim Seokjin.

“What are you talking about, I’m a delight!” He let out an indignant gasp— sarcastic, for the most part, but you had a feeling a very small part of him was actually offended. “Such a delight, in fact, that you should invite me over for a dinner date!” This time, you sputtered, a light blush rising to your cheeks. So much for that wall.

“W-we’ll see!” You manage to squeak out, causing another boisterous laugh to come from the other side of the phone.

“I’ll hold you to that Y/N!” And you could practically hear the wink he surly executed at your expense. You sigh and promise to invite him over once your pantry is stocked once more in a week. He hums, “You’d better! Remember, I have your number now, I can call you until you cave!” Another laugh and you assured him that you’d be contacting him again soon. With that, the two of you bid farewells and hung up.

Another heavy sigh left your lips as you placed your phone down on your counter. You were eerily calm after the whirlwind of emotions and doubt you had just over a simple phone call with Seokjin, and you could honestly say you were scared. He knew how to completely tear down your defenses and make you comfortable with him. The scarier part? You wanted to be at ease with him. Looking at your phone once more with a worried glance, you stepped around the peninsula of your counter to begin cooking dinner.

The following evening, your television played some mind-numbing show which you had little investment in, but for you it was a welcomed distraction from your thoughts. You hadn’t been able to work on your book at all— to your great chagrin. Namjoon would be visiting you in less than two days and you still only had four-fifths of a book prepared. You’d give it another go tomorrow, but you were starting to think that maybe it wouldn’t be such a bad idea to just ask Namjoon for help. He was an excellent writer and would surly be able to give you some insight into why you were struggling.

You sighed, feeling a bit light-headed from what you assumed was stress. It wasn’t unlike you to become ill from over-exertion, especially with your abilities; it took a lot of energy and mental stamina to hone in and stay connected to others’ feelings the way you did. You had long tried to control it— you wanted to shut the essentially open door you had linking you to other people, but all attempts proved futile. It was draining, and though you did your best to stay away from other people, you still couldn’t help the exhaustion you felt after interacting with those few you did see. A sharp pain on the back of your neck had you groaning and moving a hand to rub the afflicted area. Man, you were tired…

Your phone lit up with an unimportant notification which allowed you to see that it had become quite late; much later than you were usually found awake. Deciding that the nameless show playing on the TV was far less important than sleep, you reached for the remote and pressed the power button, effectively turning off the senseless chattering of the shallow character. You shifted in your seat on the couch, only to immediately freeze in terror.

On your blackened television screen, there was a reflection of everything in front of it, and, in turn, everything behind you. There was the outline of your furniture, and you sitting upon it, but it was none of these things that caused your entire body to break out in a cold sweat. No, it was the secondary figure, the larger figure, the figure standing deathly still behind you.

Your breathing became erratic and your hands shook with how tightly they were gripping the seat cushions of your couch. You could only hope that the figure was separated from you by the thick glass of your window wall and not currently in your living room as your mind reeled trying to remember whether or not you had locked the doors to your house.

How had you not felt him coming? Even now, aware of his presence, you could hardly feel a thing. Just detached curiosity and… hunger… for what, you couldn’t tell. You’d never experienced anything like this, and every bit of your intuition was screaming that he was dangerous.

Your heart beat painfully against your sternum as you realized you had a choice— run, hide, or fight. Running could be eliminated; you had no where to run to, even with your car parked out front, and who knows if you’d even make it there before him. Fighting was out of the question as you had noodle arms and zero self defense knowledge, making you practically useless in any confrontational situation. This left you with one option:

Hide.

You took a couple of unsteady breaths to urge yourself to move, move, just move! Hand shooting out to grab your phone which rested on the coffee table in front of you, you sprung to your feet and immediately took off towards your stairs. Climbing them as quickly as your feet would carry you, your eyes flicked over to the figure hovering outside your house and you regretted the action immediately.

Those eyes. You’d only seen something similar in cats or dogs or birds when light reflected off of them— they were glowing in the dark, the only feature defined in a human figure shrouded in shadow. Not human, you mind screamed at you. Not human, not human. It wasn’t human. You knew, instinctively, it was something else.

The figure didn’t move an inch as you frantically scuttled up the stairs and you tore your gaze away, focusing solely on reaching the safety of your room and immediately throwing yourself into your closet and slamming the door. The only sound in the space was your choked, heavy breathing, but all you could hear was the blood rushing in your ears. You looked at your phone, clutched pathetically in your shaking hands. You had to call someone, anyone. Your friends? No, they wouldn’t get here in time. The police would be the same story, as you were at least a thirty-five-minute drive from town, and even further from the city where your friends lived. A small glimmer of hope registered in your hazed mind as you scrolled through your contacts. Hitting the name immediately, you pressed the phone to your ear and sniffled. You could only hope he would answer, it was so early in the morning so there was no guarantee, but if you still knew him like you once had—

“Hello?” a groggy, sleep-deprived voice floated through the speaker like music to your ears and you let out a choked cry. “…Y/N?” He asked, slightly more alert at your desperate sob.

“…Yoongi…?”

Min Yoongi was the only man in your life that you had allowed yourself to form a relationship with. You had met him as a freshman in college— he had been a resident assistant at your dorm and had taken it upon himself to show you (and a small group of other students, mind you) around the immediate area. You had noticed that his emotions were almost always calm and focused on whatever he was working on, and that made it easy to be physical with, as this was still at the point where your gift was sparked by touch. So, you went out of your way to get to know him.

Over time, your persistence won him over and he tentatively asked you out on a date that started a lovely three-year relationship. Well, rather, the first two-and-a-half years were lovely; the last six months were, as you remember, rather sobering.

He was a year older than you, and, in turn, graduated a year ahead of you despite his double-major (the man was a workaholic, honestly). At first, the two of you did your best to see each other— you skipped out on regular college weekend get-togethers to meet him or spend a few days at his apartment. Besides the distance, you didn’t think much else had changed between you, until he stopped touching you. Quite literally, in fact. If you would try to initiate hand holding, he’d quickly stuff his hands into his pockets. If you tried to kiss him, he’d dodge with a cough or a sneeze. One of the few times you had managed to graze your skin against his, you finally realized:

He cared about you, but he didn’t love you anymore.

It was the first time you had experienced the dissolution of such powerful emotions, and you realized that this would be your life. You would always have to experience your significant other and how they felt about you; you would always have to suffer through them falling out of love with you. Yoongi knew this— he was one of the only people you had spoken to about your abilities at the time, not wanting to ruin a normal university experience with rumors and students coming up to you and asking you for readings. But he knew that you’d be able to tell the difference in his feelings towards you, and tried to hide it.

When you finally asked him to sit down with you to discuss the change, he allowed you to take his hand to get a sense of the totality of the expiry of his love. However, you could also feel his immense sorrow, his guilt over hurting you. He really, truly still cared about you; just not how you wished he did.

Through tears, you let him go with a smile, telling him that you understood— because you did. You knew better than anyone the shift and tides of emotions, but you also knew that he would always care for you; the time spent together had not wasted away into the atmosphere. You remained friends over the years, but rarely ever contacted each other as the two of you had simply grown apart in your growing lives separate from one another.

But tonight, in your panic and fear, his number was the one you pressed. It was logical, of course— you had learned about the lake front homes from him after all, as he lived near-by cabin enjoying peace and quiet in his own solitude. So, in calling him, you knew that he would have the best chance to reach you in a swift manner. You couldn’t, however, say that there wasn’t some emotional aspect to the phone call. He was familiar, and the familiarity was a comfort to you. Just hearing his voice over the phone telling you he would be at your house in ten minutes or less had calmed your nerves significantly.

And so, the two of you stood in the middle of your living room in the early hours of the morning with every sing light in your house turned on. Having him there, standing in front of you in grey plaid pajama bottoms, a white tee, and a pair of PUMA slides, you picked up on the friendly affection he held for you, as well as slight irritation most likely caused by being out at this hour. You had told him everything; the figure, it’s eyes, the fact that you could barely get a read on him, the feeling of non-human you perceived.

“Not human?” Yoongi asked, clearly skeptic about the entire ordeal and if it hadn’t been for your sheer terror in response to it all, you were sure he would have just left immediately. You pouted, knowing how crazy it sounded, but also unable to simply brush aside your instincts.

“Yes, Yoongi, it didn’t feel human.” You were almost offended that he didn’t believe you— what would you gain from lying about this? Except for the obvious fact that your ex-boyfriend, who you found great difficulty moving on from for quite some time after your breakup, was now standing in your house at two-thirty in the morning. Still, as much as you had loved him, you were not interested in rekindling a relationship with a man who clearly was not in love with you anymore.

“Crazy glowing eyes aside, what makes you say that?” He inquired, plopping himself down on your couch, lazily man-spreading as if he’s a frequent visitor to your dwelling. You would have smiled, if it weren’t for the doubt he held in regard to your confession.

“I told you,” you huffed, running your still shaking fingers through your hair. “I couldn’t read him. Not like everyone else. I didn’t even feel him coming!” You tossed your hand in the direction where the figure appeared. Yoongi sighed,

“Maybe your powers are getting weaker?” He suggested, to which you shook your head.

“No, I had no problem detecting you when you arrived, and I can read your emotions as well as ever.” If only your abilities were fading, your life would be so much simpler and you would love nothing more than to move back to the city where your close friends resided. “Exhaustion, irritation, doubt, concern, fondness…” You rattled off all the emotions rolling off of him in waves, though they were still as mellow and manageable as they always were. He dropped his head to rest on the back of the couch and closed his eyes.

“Years of knowing you and I’m still not used to that…” Your heart sank a bit at this even though you knew the comment was not meant to be malicious, your senses telling you he meant it in a teasing way. But it still reminded you that you were not normal. After a moment he pulled himself forward to rest his forearms on his knees and ruffled his bleach-blonde hair. “Alright. I can see you’re seriously freaked out by this…” He looked over at you, his sharp eyes almost trying to read you like you were able to read him. “…I’ll sleep on the couch tonight if that’ll make you feel better.” You released an alleviated sigh before bouncing over to him and wrapping him up in a chaste hug.

“Thank you, Yoongi…” He didn’t exactly return the hug, only reaching up and patting your back reassuringly, but you felt the small spike of comfort and serenity at the friendly action, and that was enough to tell you that your gesture was appreciated.

Afterwards, you gathered spare blankets and a pillow from your linen closet for Yoongi to use for the evening. You had tried to offer him other amenities, such as water or tea, but he politely turned you down, clearly wanting nothing more than to sleep. Thanking him once more, you retired to your own room, leaving your door open and turning the light on your bedside table on to illuminate the darkness. You kept your back towards the window in your room, not wanting to subject yourself to the self-inflicted fear you would surly create from the moving shadows of the trees just outside. You were on the second floor, surly safe from the beings that lurk below and now, with the thought of Yoongi snoozing on our couch, you allowed yourself to slip off into a, thankfully, dreamless sleep.

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[danyka-fendyr]

Scar Tissue Chapter 2: Dynamic Du-OH- A Sudden Realization

A/N: I’m posting this without editing because I hate myself. I will eventually come back and fix my many sins. Tagging @writingtheworks the works again. Do I think that Bruce Wayne invites his butler to family dinners? Yes, yes I do, and Gotham’s snooty societal standards can’t stop me or him. Take that you elitists. Rorie was exhausted. You really couldn’t blame her. She’d been listening to Jason monologue Romeo and Juliet repeatedly for about an hour now. She loved her best friend, but she was ready to stab Shakespeare. She understood this was his masterpiece, but did he have to do this to her?

“Jay, I promise you, you will get the part. The first 5 times, heck, the first 10 times, this was the most beautiful performance I had ever seen in my life,” I told him.

Jason broke character, collapsing out of a dramatic pose, arm extended, head held up, looking to an imaginary balcony.

“You cried the first time,” he said, grinning.

Rorie had never seen someone so pleased over her tears. ...Well, okay, that wasn’t necessarily completely true, but she’d fought the Joker, alright? He was pretty sick, and not in the good way.

“Yes, because it was amazing. We’ve been over this. You are amazing,” she said.

Jason blushed under the praise, his neck, cheeks and ears tinting pink. When Jason blushed, he blushed with his whole head. It was sort of cute. Or at least, Rorie assumed it would be cute if you were like, into that kind of stuff. Rorie, of course, was not.

“Anyway, you should try to get some sleep. We have patrol tonight. Plus, you wouldn’t want to look burned out for your audition. It’s no good having a Romeo who looks sleep deprived,” Rorie tried to reason with him.

“What if he’s sleep deprived because he’s been up all night thinking about his Juliet, and how she refuses to audition, despite Alfred’s best efforts,” Jason teased.

“And you. Don’t forget you,” Rorie sighed. 

Alfred and Jason hadn’t gotten off her back about this since they first started holding auditions for Romeo and Juliet. Rorie refused on the principle that the characters made a long series of stupid decisions ending in a tragedy that could have been completely avoidable. Jason had countered with the fact that he had caught her reading it out loud, rather passionately, mind you, when they had been assigned the story for English class. It wasn’t Rorie’s fault that the story was still emotionally compelling, despite entirely lacking logic. Juliet admittedly had some pretty lines.

“This is too cliché. Why couldn’t the school play be something prettier, like Wuthering Heights?” Rorie objected.

“Your obsession with Wuthering Heights will never end, will it?” Jason asked.

“The writing is beautiful Jason!” Rorie cried, more passionate even then when she was playing the part of Juliet.

“Maybe if you get the lead role this year they’ll choose it next year. You could get friendly with the Mrs. Dowly, convince her it would be a good idea.” Jason carefully dangled the carrot in front of his prey’s face.

There was a pregnant pause while Rorie considered.

“You really think so?” she questioned, shooting him an uncertain, slightly untrusting look.

Jason nodded, his enthusiasm making the gesture comical so that he resembled a bobble-head. “Absolutely! Mrs. Dowly always considers how her leads feel.” 

Jason would know. He was the theater teacher’s pet, and had been the lead many, many times. All the other theater nerds were jealous of him, if they didn’t absolutely hero worship him (something Rorie found ironically humorous, considering their nightlife).

Rorie sighed, the sound deeply resigned. In contrast, Jason whooped.

“I will only be auditioning,” she warned him.

“Absolutely,” Jason said.

“You will in no way try to convince Mrs. Dowly to show me any kind of special favor.”

“Of course not.” More bobble-headedness, this time a vigorous shake, like he was a wet dog.

“If I do, by some miracle, get the part, you will not gloat, tell me you knew it, or anything of the sort.”

At this, Jason pouted. Rorie glared.

“Can’t I be proud?” He gave her the puppy dog eyes.

He gave her the puppy dog eyes. Jason knew she couldn’t resist the puppy dog eyes.

“Fine. A little pride. But none while we’re in school!” Rorie caved.

“Yay!” Jason chirped, wrapping his arms around her, trapping hers by her side.

Rorie pouted, and Jason celebrated. It was at this moment that Bruce walked in, Alfred following closely behind with a curious expression on his face.

“What’s going on here?” There was a tone of deep, rich amusement to Bruce’s voice, the corners of his mouth twitching upwards in what was usually about as close as he came to a smile (unless he was playing the role of ‘Brucie Wayne’).

“Rorie’s going to audition for the school play!” Jason cheered.

“With conditions!” Rorie added, seeing the look of excited shock on Alfred’s face and the knowing approval on Bruce’s.

“Well, miss, I suppose we’ll have to get you in shape!” Alfred declared.

“Oh no.”

“O Romeo, Romeo! Wherefore art thou Romeo? Deny thy father and refuse thy name. Or, if thou wilt not, be but sworn my love, and I’ll no longer be a Capulet.”

“Wonderful, miss! The way you sigh it out is beautiful. Very wistful. Now if you could just make it a little bit less breathy,” Alfred instructed.

Rorie puffed a sigh, and Jason tried not to laugh at her. She looked frustrated. Not as frustrated as she could be, since she wasn’t doing math, but her hair was messy and her posture slumped, face red from trying to hold back an oncoming temper tantrum. Alfred had this tendency to sometimes work out the details a little too much when it came to Shakespeare, or really any kind of play or production. He was a man of the theater indeed. 

Jason decided Rorie might need a rescue.

“Maybe I could work with her for a bit Alfred. You could take a break, maybe make some snacks?” he suggested, knowing Alfred would never leave drama without a specific task and purpose.

“Cookies?” Rorie asked, a forlorn hope swimming in her eyes.

“Ah! Of course! You lot do look as though you could use something to munch on. It will raise the spirits!” Alfred clapped his hands, looking as invigorated as he always did when he was allowed within range of fine art. “I’ll prepare some fruit, and perhaps some cookies if I feel it is warranted.”

By that Jason was pretty sure Alfred meant that Rorie ate too many cookies and that she was going to get cavities. He was trying to be nice right now though, since it was obvious that Rorie was seriously considering dropping out of the school play.When she got the part, the entire household had been elated. Well, Jason and Alfred had been elated, and Bruce had been smugly pleased. Emphasis on smug. That was his adopted daughter, after all.Jason was pretty sure that if ‘Brucie Wayne’ wasn’t supposed to be keeping up his eligible bachelor status, Bruce would have posted his pride all over ever social media platform he knew how to work. Jason’s phone pinged, and he checked his notifications.

Scratch that. Bruce wasn’t able to keep it in anymore now that he had not one, but two children in theater. He had just made the dorkiest post Jason had ever seen in his life on Twitter. 

“So proud of @jtodd and @roreo for scoring roles in the school play! I look forward to seeing them play Romeo and Juliet, respectively. If you have the time, come down to @gothamacademy and watch. #Illbesittingfrontrow”

Jason hoped none of the other kids at school saw that. Jason knew every one of the other kids at school had seen that, even the ones who weren’t theater geeks. Jason was pretty sure any kind of a reputation he had was gone now.

“Oh no,” Rorie groaned.

“Oh no what, Miss?” Alfred said, poking his head into the room at the first sound of oncoming disaster.

Rorie extended her phone to him, letting him see the tweet Jason himself had just been looking at.

“All the kids at school will see this, Alfred! We’re done for.” Rorie exchanged a look of horror with Jason.

Alfred looked thoughtful.“We shall see, miss.”

And see they did. 

Arriving at school the next day, Rorie did her utmost to go incognito. Sunglasses and a dark hoodie obscured her figure, and she kept her head bowed as she walked through the halls. Jason didn’t bother with this. His strategy was to not show any kind of weakness.

He strutted down the halls, trying to appear more confident than ever before, his hair slicked back with gel he had stolen from Bruce a while back and his favorite leather jacket on. He would have been wearing sunglasses, but Rorie stole his coolest pair.

As it turned out, Jason’s strategy worked better, unfortunately for Rorie. Some of the boys tried to pick on him, it was true, but he just ignored them. If you looked closely enough, you might be able to see that he was riled up, but only if you knew him well. He kept his anger close and in check. He could always exact revenge later if he still thought they were worth it.

Rorie was taunted mercilessly though, since she reacted a little volatiley to the whole thing. The second someone had insinuated that her rich daddy bought her spot, she was spitting words that were dangerously close to obscenities, a seething pot ready to boil over. Jason had swept in several times that day to save her when it looked like she might not be able to control herself. In thanks, she gave him his sunglasses back.

Now, Rorie was sitting in the library, the only place where people would leave her alone, it seemed. She was reading through Jane Eyre again, trying to distract herself from the snake’s nest of anxiety, self-doubt, and bitter, petty rage boiling in her head. It wasn’t working that well.

It worked less well when Amanda Bixby sat next to her. Rorie didn’t dislike Amanda particularly, but she also didn’t particularly like her. Amanda was...Well, Amanda was a bit of an airhead. She didn’t mean to be, but she just happened to be that one girl that never thought about anything but makeup and boys. There was nothing particularly wrong with this mindset, but it simply didn’t mesh with Rorie’s more practical attitude. 

“So, Jason’s like, your brother, right?” Amanda said, her tone friendly yet suspiciously slimy sounding to Rorie.

“Yeah, I guess. More of a best friend, really.” Rorie shrugged.

“But you’re super close, yeah?” Amanda confirmed.

“Well yeah. We live in the same house.” Rorie didn’t feel it necessary to mention that they had shared a bathroom until last year when she had demanded Bruce let her have her own. 

Rorie was prepared for a plethora of things. Amanda was into theater, so it was entirely possible that she was hoping Rorie would be able to share some of Jason’s acting secrets with her. Or, it could be that she needed help with her English homework, something Jason also excelled in. As it turned out, Rorie was woefully unprepared for what actually happened.

“So what kind of girl does he usually go for?” Amanda asked.

Rorie choked a little bit. “What?”

“Like, does he have a type?” She twirled a strand of long brown hair around her finger.

“Umm….I don’t really know. He doesn’t talk to me about girls,” Rorie said, suddenly feeling very uncomfortable.

“Yeah, but I mean, you’ve got to know something about his girlfriends. Are they tall? Short? Blondes, brunettes? C’mon, gimme something here,” Amanda said.

In truth, Rorie was unsure that Jason had ever even had a girlfriend. He was only 15 after all. 15 was a bit young for a girlfriend, wasn’t it? Rorie felt like 15 was young.

“Why do you ask? I mean, it’s not like Jason’s particularly attractive or anything.” Rorie laughed nervously.

“Are you kidding me? He’s a total dreamboat. All the girls know it. Plus, have you ever seen his arms when he takes off that leather jacket?” Amanda bit her lip in a way that Rorie definitely did not like. “I bet he’s ripped. Not to mention that he’s tall. And he’s only going to get taller you know.”

Amanda was clearly not in the building anymore. Her eyes had glazed over dreamily, and Rorie took that as her cue to be anywhere but where she presently was. Sneakily, she made her escape, mumbling under her breath about some urgent play preparation she had to do.

Rorie raced out of the library so fast it was almost superhuman, forgetting to put her sunglasses back on as she went. They were perched on top of her head when she crashed into someone, causing them to clatter to the floor, and her to nearly follow. Fortunately for her, someone had good reflexes and caught her, a warm, firm hand holding her back and pressing her against a lean, muscular torso.

“I am so sorry, you have no idea how mortified I am, rea-” Rorie stopped short when she realized that the person who was holding her was rather familiar.

She pulled back, peering into their face to find none other than Jason Todd himself. Rorie wanted to say “speak of the devil,” but she was a bit distracted at the moment, because at it turned out, it would seem that Amanda Bixby was right. Jason Todd was a dreamboat.Rorie was unsure how she hadn’t noticed it before. It wasn’t like anything had significantly changed between now and an hour again, when Rorie had last seen Jason. However, now that it had been mentioned to her, he had very nice, well-defined cheekbones, a strong jaw, incredibly long black lashes, and the prettiest pair of blue eyes Rorie had ever seen in her life. She swallowed heavily as she realized that, prior to knowing who was holding her up, she had been appreciating their toned body structure as well.

“Careful there, Rorie. You’ll get hurt.” Jason smiled at her, revealing a blinding white set of perfectly straight teeth that seemed intent on sinking themselves into Rorie’s heart.

Oh no. Oh no.

Opening night had finally come, and Jason was bouncing around with excitement. He had no reason to worry. He had done this dozens of times before, and he had every confidence in his leading lady.

He was watching her right now, mumbling her lines under her breath and coughing as hairspray was applied rigorously to her carefully created Shakespearean hair. 

“Oh, Romeo, oh Romeo,” Rorie said, rocking back and forth slightly, to the deep consternation of the girl working on her hair.

“Actually,” Jason said, watching himself appear in the mirror behind her, already in full costume, hair done, “it’s ‘Oh Romeo, Romeo’.”

“I’m gonna fail. I’m gonna fail in front of everyone, and they’ll all laugh, and this will be the end of my acting career, and I’ll have to switch schools.” Her eyes, previously closed, snapped open. “I’ll have to switch schools Jason. I’ll have to go to a boarding school in Scandinavia where nobody knows my name.”

“You’ll be fine,” Jason reassured her, placing both his hands on her shoulders and shooing the irate amateur hairdresser off.

“But what if I’m not?” Rorie asked desperately.

“Then I’ll fail even more epically. I’ll say lines from Napoleon Dynamite instead, and then I’ll trip and fall on my face, and then I’ll roll over and start making snow angels, except there will be no snow, at which point I will have made my first mistake as it is obvious that one cannot make snow angels without no snow.”

“That is the stupidest thing you’ve ever said to me.” Rorie dead-panned.

“See! It works!” Jason grinned broadly, bouncing on the balls of his feet. Rorie, on her part, tried to look slightly less miserable.

“You’re on in 5,” someone informed him as they passed by.

Rorie gave him an unsure look, seeking a few last moments of reassurance.

Jason walked around until he was facing her, crouching so he could look her right in the eye. “You’re gonna be great, don’t worry.”

He smoothed down a few stray pieces of her hair, giving her one last strong, certain smile before heading to the wings. It was showtime.

Acts 1-4 went flawlessly. Despite her nerves, Rorie was a natural on stage. She sounded like Shakespeare had written her himself, and Jason was matching her ever move. They were a perfect pair, naturally, and they had the kind of trust most lead actors could probably only wish for. This came as a package deal with the many shared near-death experiences.

It was Act 5 where things began to get sticky. Specifically, the death scene. Everything had been going fun. They had rehearsed this scene in bits and pieces plenty of times before, and everything was timed perfectly. The grief they portrayed was stunningly believable, the laboured breaths and the hasty tears working together to paint a picture of gut-wrenching agony. Jason had caught a glimpse of Dick crying in the audience.

Specifically, it was Act 5, scene 3, line 125 that was giving Jason a good deal of trouble. He had said all the lines leading up to it, and now he found himself agonizingly close to a “dead” Rorie with the task of kissing her.

He had known, somewhere in the back of his mind, that he would have to kiss her for this performance. Maybe some tiny part of him had even looked forward to it, entirely without his knowledge or consent. They hadn’t practiced this particular scene, however, and Jason had conveniently forgotten about it until now. Or rather, he had been making a conscious effort not to think about it at all.

He hovered over her, his mouth inches away from hers. She was so warm underneath him, hair splayed out and hands neatly folded over her stomach, eyes lightly shut. Jason tried to steady his heart rate, failing miserably, and after running through a plethora of alternative scenarios in his mind, each more wild than the last, he determined that he would just have to do it. If she hated him afterwards, there was nothing he could do about it.

Gently, he connected their lips. It was like a revival. Her lips were soft and warm against his, and she tasted like oranges and cinnamon. Her body, almost unconsciously, craned into him, kissing back so softly and subtly that the audience couldn’t have noticed, but Jason most definitely did. Without thinking, one hand reached into her hair, cradling her head as he kissed her like Romeo would kiss Juliet, like a man would kiss his lover with his last dying breath, slightly clumsy, but intimate and gentle, with a fervor Mrs. Dowly had probably not foreseen.

He broke away, rushing through his poison scene and dying as quickly as possible. It felt fitting, since he was pretty sure he was already dead. Then, it was Rorie’s turn. What she did next was not entirely expected.

She worked her way through her lines with an untold urgency, weeping at the sight of her Romeo lying dead below her. Her performance was like nothing Gotham Academy had ever seen before, as emotionally charged as it was. And then, he broke from script. She kissed Jason.

It was similar to the first time, but less clumsy, and Jason nearly broke character out of sheer shock. He didn’t have the time though, with the brevity of the kiss. It was hard and fast, and then she stabbing herself with a fake knife as ripples of surprise waved through the audience.

The last few scenes were played out, and everyone took their final bows. Jason could see Dick sobbing at this point, overcome by emotion. Jason felt similarly overcome, unsure of what exactly had just happened. He rushed his way backstage, finding Rorie in the mess that was the closing of opening night. He grabbed her arm, whirling her around.

“Rorie,” he breathed out her name, still stunned even now.

She turned pink, staring at her feet as she answered. “Yes.”

“You kissed me,” he stated.

“You kissed me first.”

“On script,” he said.

“Are you mad?” Now she looked up at him, twinges of hurt flecking her eyes and accenting an ocean of bright green worry and fear.

“Am I mad? No, I’m definitely no mad.” Now, Jason grinned. He grinned like a fool. “Just wondering if you’ll do it again.”

Rorie smiled shyly, starting to look as giddy as Jason now felt.“At least buy me dinner first,” she said, mischief in her eyes and tugging at her mouth as she shrugged in feigned nonchalance.

“I’m pretty sure dinner is on Bruce tonight, but if you think I’m not going to buy you dinner at the next available opportunity then you are very, very wrong,” Jason said.

Rorie laughed, reaching up to hug him in his favorite way, the only way he ever wanted to be hugged by her ever again.

“Deal, boy wonder,” she whispered in his ear.

Dinner was awkward. Dinner way very, very awkward.

It wasn’t that Bruce disapproved, after the two stumbled through an explanation of their budding relationship. It wasn’t that Alfred disapproved, or Dick, even. No. Horrifyingly, they were all delighted.

“What do you mean you knew?” Jason and Rorie shrieked in unison.

Bruce tried to bring the table back to some form of decorum, since Dick’s exclamation of, “I knew it!” and small victory dance coupled with Rorie and Jason’s indignant screams was slightly out of place in one of Gotham’s nicest restaurants.

 “I mean, it was obvious. You two are always all blushy and cutesy around each other whenever I come over,” Dick explained, cutting into his steak.

“We are not!” Rorie protested, burying her face into her bouquet of brilliant red roses, of which it had turned the same hue.

Jason in turn felt like burying his face into the orchids he was currently holding for her, a gift from Dick. The roses were from Bruce, of course. Alfred had simply baked cookies back at home.

“I’m afraid you are, miss. It’s rather endearing, if it’s any comfort to you,” Alfred reassured.

“This is so embarrassing. You all knew?” Rorie said.

“And now the whole school knows, after that display.” Dick grinned. “You two got so lucky Mrs. Dowly didn’t tear you to pieces.”

As it happened, Mrs. Dowly had rather liked the show. She said that Rorie’s improv had been so impassioned Shakespeare should have written it into the original. Rorie had wilted into the very bottoms of her shoes, looking as though she were trying her best to melt into the floor.

A waiter came by to check on them as they were finishing up, Dick shoveling the last bites of his steak into his mouth. 

“Any dessert?” he asked politely, no doubt with good intentions.

“No!” Jason and Rorie shouted.

The last thing they wanted was more awkward dinner conversation.

“It would seem not,” Bruce said, smiling his, “people are watching,” smile. “We’ll just have the bill.”

“Yes, sir.” The waiter ran off to retrieve the bill, leaving Jason and Rorie to suffer once more.

“So how long had you been thinking about that kiss scene, huh Jay?” Dick asked, waggling his eyebrows.

Jason groaned, his face turning red in that full-flush way that he had about him. Rorie, on the other hand, decided to change tactics. If you can’t beat’em, join’em.

“You know, it’s kind of cute when you do that,” she said.

“What?” Jason asked, confused and slightly alarmed.

“Blush. You do it with your whole head. Neck, face, ears. It’s cute.” Rorie shrugged, trying to hide her own blush.

“Ewww, this is officially too sweet for me now,” Dick said, feigning a gag.

“Please Dick, try to behave like an adult,” Bruce said, pinching the bridge of his nose.

The waiter came by and Bruce quickly paid in cash, clearly having come prepared for an outing with his children. Rorie could only guess how enormous the tip was.

“Alfred?” Bruce said, raising his eyebrows as he looked at the man.

“I have already informed the valet that the car is to be brought around, sir,” Alfred said.

“Thank goodness, because I could use a good night’s sleep,” Bruce said.

Rorie and Jason grinned at each other. Bruce Wayne might get 8 hours, but his alter ego never did. It was time for the Bat to roam the streets of Gotham, Robin and Batgirl at his side. It was time to be a hero.