#and as a black woman it’s actually disgusting. you chose to be over there. i’m not gonna change how i talk to y’all bc shit hasn’t changed

[dqrkdreams]

why are trans men always so… like this towards cis women. it’s like they still think like a woman and are still searching for that victimhood they feel like they lost (they haven’t) and can’t cope with them now choosing to be on the opposite side and having to see men get shit on, because it now includes them. you would think they’d be more empathetic and normal but no. once they flip genders all of a sudden they’re the biggest attackers of (cis) women and feminism.

and it so obviously stems from insecurity and a lack of emotional capability to handle being told your group is oppressive. and it’s so much worse because you weren’t even raised like that. society has never pushed or told you to be like that so you have no excuse for the fact that you as a (99% of the time) white (jewish or not) woman are using gay, black, disabled, etc, men as now an ideological shield against women complaining about their oppression. like a stage 5 anti feminist. it’s weird. and i’m saying this as a black woman.

you’re fucking weird. mexican, arab etc. all aren’t generally affected socially or systemically by weight gain enough for you to generalize them as such you idiot. they can still be fat and desirable. they still are wanted. they are not treated bad for being fat you lying revisionist fuck. you sound like an incel. no woman isn’t being friends with, isn’t dating, isn’t treating with humanity a man because he’s too skinny or too fat. that isn’t based in reality. (the only time men have insinuated bad treatment based on their weights/looks happening is when it comes to dating but women always say no. it’s other things. and you happen to be fat. because fat dudes who are kind, left leaning, ambitious, emotionally intelligent, financially stable, etc. are attractive to them. which is another sinister thing. trans men will take every liberal buzz word they’ve heard and apply it to male issues even when not true. but men, having lived their entire lives as men will apply their logic correctly and in the places they really mean it to be. cis men never talk about the downsides of being a fat guy unless when it comes to dating. which can be argued to be true (not because they’re fat though) but trans men will just start spewing out random nonsensical shit which makes sense in theory but has NO standing in real life. and they do it with such confidence you know this is a person who’s never actually been a man.) fat men still are seen for other characteristics beyond their weight. by their friends, family, strangers etc.

of course they get insecure like anyone else and it sucks but you’re insane to think doctors ignore or don’t give them correct diagnoses because of their weight. that’s not fact! or real?! men don’t even go to the doctor often of their own volition. which is a topic needed to be discussed when the topic of men not being treated by healthcare well comes into play, their own toxic masculinity of them being invincible pushes them away from the doctors office or taking their health seriously. this is searchable fact.

and honestly which one is worse? being a cis woman and your unchangeable sex rather than your changeable weight being why you’re not correctly diagnosed, why there’s no research done on diseases that affect only you, why the procedures meant for only you are so barbaric and torturous (pap smears, etc). please.

trans men stop becoming fucking insufferable when you turn into men because you can’t handle being talked about as a man. STOP. get your mangina together and deal with it like you deal with every other privelege you have. don’t cape for and deny the privelege of every other man because you can’t cope. that’s fucking weird and GROSS.

it’s insane because on some occasions cis men deal with feminism better than trans men i’ve seen because at some point they know it’s true. it directly talks about them and they’ve even boasted about what we decry as male privilege all the time. trans men are so much more shifty and obsessed with not seeing male privilege as even real and i get it, if you believed it existed, you’d become dysphoric as fuck because you have none! have never had any! you can’t relate or apologize for anything because you’ve never experienced it! and you’re are completely forgotten about when people discuss men in a political lens. but that’s not our problem. deal with your shit and stop turning into a anti feminist loser under the guise of your own dysphoric and emotional turmoil for a life you chose. damn. men can handle getting told off, and we don’t have to ask the 0.3% of men how they feel about it to do so.

- an angry black woman

idk if cis women are aware of this but u can actually talk abt how difficult it is to be a woman living under patriarchy without wildly misrepresenting the experiences of men living under the patriarchy. i’m watching a comedy special where a thin white woman just said that men aren’t affected by weight gain and i would like to know on what planet being a man protects you from the disgusting and deadly culture of fatphobia we’ve cultivated. i would like to know on what fucking planet a thin white woman is more affected by gaining an inch around her waist than a fat man having to deal with being dismissed by doctors, passed over for jobs, and treated horrendously by fellow human beings. like. trust me, i lived as a woman for almost three decades and still am seen as a woman, i understand the urge to vent about the patriarchy. but you can so easily do that without completely ignoring intersectionality or speaking on experiences you don’t understand or quite frankly don’t care about.

[urinarythreatinfection]

Since Halloween is just around the corner how would the straw hat crew react if reader dressed up as one of them for Halloween? (It could be Luffy or whatever straw hat crew member you think would be best?😅)

This was fun to make even if I kept getting stuck on it due to a bad mood. Also I couldn't decide on who so I asked an elder (my older brother) and he chose the swirly browed cook himself! Enjoy!

Fun(ny) Halloween

Sanji x Gender Neutral Reader. 1496 words. Platonic and co-starring the rest of the Strawhat crew.

October, a month of fall and most importantly, Halloween. There’s a problem though… you don’t know what to go as. You could pick a classic, vampire, mummy, some sort of animal or devil, but that’s boring. You want something cool but scary, easy to do would be a plus too. While thinking of this you’re suddenly jumpscared by Sanji bursting out of the kitchen onto the deck with food.

“Robin-chann!! I made the tea you asked for~~~~” He spins around and sets it down in front of her, swooning when she smiles at him with an elegant “Thank you.” Your hand goes to your heart, he’s always so passionate it’s startling.

‘Startling…’ An idea pops into your mind and you look at Sanji, he’s really just wearing a suit, right? It's mostly likely uncomfortable, but a regular suit is an easy thing to get! This is perfect, plans starting to form in your head as the day goes on. As soon as the Sunny docks at an island you run off, saying you have something to do that’s a surprise. Eyebrows you can just draw on, a blonde wig is easy to get too even if you have to style it a bit, now to get a suit. You walk into the store and look around, grabbing one and checking the price tag. Expensive! Sanji has good taste too so an accurate one to him would be even more than this… well it isn’t like you’re going to become him, you don’t need anything fancy. You get whatever suit is close enough to his and a regular dress shirt. For a tie, you could bribe Nami to borrow one from him. Perfect plan, you’re a genius. When you get back to the ship you borrow sewing tools from Usopp and a straightener from Robin since Nami would have charged you. Things are easy enough from there, adjusting the suit slightly to fit your body and cutting the wig. It isn’t… the best. Sanji is very well maintained, and you’re making this really late, but it’s enough to be recognizable as him.

_________________

October, the month of- hell yeah it’s Halloween! You excitedly grab your costume, putting it on and making some final touches to look nice. You do look nice in a suit, almost everyone does, but this is a bit of a hassle. “How does he just wear this all the time?” You mumble to yourself while putting it on. Now that you think about it, having a full suit on is the most peculiar for a pirate to wear. No matter, this’ll only be for a day anyway. Only thing left is to go show everyone.

__________________

“That’s your costume? Seriously? A mummy?” Nami, in a sexy farmer costume, says to Zoro. He’s just wearing bear ears and bandages on his face. “That’s the same as last year!”

“I’m a bear mummy this time, don’t you have eyes?” He points to the bear ears and Nami gives him a look of disgust. “You relaxing your face or something? Look a lot better like this.” Nami’s expression turns back to normal and Zoro flinches on purpose, causing her to kick him in the shin angrily. Chopper, who's dressed as a little ghost complete with a tenkan headband over the white sheet and black painted horns, runs around trying to catch a mechanical bee Usopp’s piloting. The sniper’s dressed as a beekeeper, but with actual mechanical bees in the hive on his back. He’s matching with Franky dressed as the queen, or king, bee. When Chopper catches it he strikes a pose and gives a “SUPER!!”

“Robin-Chwannn~ You look beautiful even in your costume.” Sanji swoons over Robin in her spider woman costume. No, not the superhero, an actual spider woman, she even grew arms on her back to keep the image. Brook goes to her as well, dressed as a magician.

“Yohoho~ Here’s my magic trick for two beautiful women.” He pulls two roses from his afro and gives one to her, then to Nami.

“You just pulled roses from your hair…” Usopp mumbles.

“Awee that was actually kinda sweet.” Nami admires the rose.

“Free of charge, though I do take panties as dona-” He gets hit on the head. Jinbe isn’t quite used to this sort of thing, but has learned his lesson about Nami already and chooses to silently sip his tea in his zombie costume courtesy of you and Luffy. Suddenly you walk out from inside the ship and Luffy, dressed as.. a pirate captain with a hook, notices you from his spot on the railing above.

“Huh? Sanji?” That brings attention to you, especially Sanji who turns around expecting for Luffy to ask him for food; instead seeing you dressed at him. He freezes with his mouth open, stopped in his tracks before he could yell at his captain that he was fed not too long ago.

“Oh. my. gods.” Nami stares at you and then bursts out laughing with Usopp. “Is this why you asked me to get a tie from h-him!?” She holds her stomach, bending down slightly as she laughs. You walk over to her.

“Well? Was it worth the investment, mademoiselle?” You say to her and she covers her mouth to muffle more laughing.

“Another shitty cook, this is a nightmare.” Zoro says in the background, which seems to snap Sanji out of it.

“Shut up, Mosshead!" They start to fight, the cook kicking down at Zoro as he blocks with his swords. Luffy keeps staring between you and Sanji.

“Wait, how are there two Sanjis?” He’s confused.

“One is clearly not me! How is this not obvious to you!?” The blonde points to himself, then motions to his whole body. Luffy stares at his face, then at yours. The both of you have swirly eyebrows.

“You have a twin? When did they get on the ship?” Sanji falls to his knees at Luffy’s obliviousness. “Which one of you is Sanji?”

“I’m Sanji.” You say with a charismatic smile, putting your hand on your face and flicking your hair.

“Ohhh okay.” Luffy nods.

“Don’t just believe them!” The real Sanji yells.

“I’m gonna pass out…!” Usopp clutches his chest, getting lightheaded from laughing too hard. Sanji looks at everyone laughing and gets a little bummed, you walk over to him.

“Well? How do I look? I actually worked pretty hard on this, though I don’t look as cool as you.” Sanji’s ears perk up from your compliment.

“Cool?” He pries for more of them.

“Yeah, you always look really put together. This helped me realize how tiring it must be to almost always have a suit on. It kinda makes me admire you.” His eyes twinkle and he smiles, trying to keep it calm and charismatic rather than overly happy.

“Hmm, I guess that’s true.” Nami mumbles to herself while trying to imagine having to wear a suit all the time. Sanji catches it immediately; but so do you. Right as he runs to her you follow suit and copy his swooning.

“Nami-Swann~! You really think so~~!!?” He finishes his statement and turns to you, shock on his face. Nami shivers a little.

“Yikes. Maybe the costume is more scary than funny.” She says and Zoro nods.

“Sorry, your behavior is kind of predictable.” You admit to Sanji, who’s feeling conflicted between liking that his love for women is known and being ashamed that he’s this predictable. Chopper puts a hoof on his leg for comfort, but he’s shaking slightly from also trying not to laugh. The cook turns to Robin right as you do.

“Robin-channnn do you think i’m pre-” He stops and so do you, then falls to his knees again. Robin can’t help it and tries to turn her head and muffle a small laugh with her hand, though it’s still heard. Luffy, who started laughing too, stretches down from where he was hanging and onto Franky.

“Sanji and Sanji, do it again!” He cheers for an encore, raising his arms up. It doesn’t make Swirly Brow feel much better.

“You’re still a better cook than me. I can’t copy your talents.” You crouch down to Sanji’s level but he looks away, pouting and upset that he’s the butt of the joke. “Y’know I wouldn’t have put this much effort into the costume if I was ashamed of you.” You stand back up and strike a pose. “So why don’t you teach me some tricks so I can make this more accurate?” This seems to cheer him up and he stands, looking around. Well, these are his friends, and it’s not like it’s unfunny.

“Well,” He clears his throat. “your hair isn’t parted correctly.” His hands go to your wig and smooth it out as you smile back. If the people he cares for are happy, so is he.

“I think they look better.” Zoro states and Sanji attacks him. Zoro is the exception.

[dirty-bosmer]

I've been meaning to ask this ever since The Illusionist was completed, but have you ever thought of an AU or alternate ending for the story? Iirc you mentioned pantsing it, so was there ever a different trajectory you considered when writing the final arc? If Nim could have taken another path, what would it have been (and are there any that are happy for either her or Lucien 🥺 LMAO big ask, I know)?

Hopefully that made sense <3<3<3

OOOhooOHOOoo, what a good question! Yes it made sense and really made me think. There are two alternative endings that I think fit the logic of the story and the characters. Actually, I kind of feel bad for Nim now, because of course I chose the angstiest end for the fic lol. Under the cut because looooong and also spoilers.

The first: Mathieu convinces Nim to join him in taking down the Dark Brotherhood. He confesses everything to her that morning after he finds her drunk on the waterfront, and even though he’s responsible for the Purification, he appeals to Nim’s desire for freedom from Lucien and the clutches of the Black Hand just enough that she agrees to his plan. Nim continues to kill off the Black Hand, thereby setting Lucien up further. After she kills Ungolim, Nim is the one who tells Mathieu that Lucien went to hide out in Applewatch. She arrives with the rest of the Black Hand and actually takes part in his torture/death, and even though she does feel conflicted and guilty over betraying him, it’s also very cathartic after everything he put her through. She’s SO angry at him, blames him for not working harder to prevent the Purification, for taking her as his Silencer, for ruining her chance at a normal life, and I think it would be a turning point for her to say, “fuck it, I’m living the way I want to now and NO ONE will take it from me.”

Once in the Night Mother’s crypt, she and Mathieu turn on the rest of the Black Hand. Meanwhile Lorise is going wtf??? and the Night Mother/Mephala is like “lol y’all think you’re slick. I’ll be back tho, and btw Lorise, Mathieu was the traitor and he’s the reason why Vicente is dead. Lucien told Nim all this like a month ago :)” Lorise turns on Mathieu in her rage, and Nim is forced to kill him to keep Lorise alive. Lorise is understandably pissed that Nim never told her and had fully planned to let Mathieu go free, but Nim pulls some gaslight, gatekeep, girlboss and is like “I would never! This was the only way I could keep you safe!” They agree to torch the crypt, then go on holiday to Daggerfall where they let themselves properly grieve everything they lost in the Dark Brotherhood.

In this version of events, Nim doesn’t have a complete mental break. The mantling proceeds a lot more slowly, and she actually has a happy mortal life. She moves back to Anvil to continue her apprenticeship like nothing ever happened lol but she’s lonely. She misses Raminus and is disturbed by how haunted she is by Lucien’s absence. Because she can’t stand being alone and living simply, she’s like “what if I open up old wounds and write to Raminus and tell him I need him c:” knowing full well how much influence she still has over him. She visits the University, and because Raminus is still in love with her and has been plagued by dreams of her weird Daedric visions, he doesn’t throw her out immediately. Having never received proper closure, he tells himself he just one more conversation with her is going to set his head straight, but Nim is fully committed to gaslight, gatekeep, girl boss at this point, so she confesses to the destruction of the Dark Brotherhood, saying that was her plan all along and she had to do it to save Lorise, that she couldn’t tell him the last time they spoke because she’d be placing him in even more danger. Obviously, he’s horrified and disgusted, but Nim is like, baby we brought out the best in each other and I’m changed woman now uwu. I’m such a good little mage, see *points to calendar that says ’68 days since last murder’* and Raminus is like “well that’s qualitative proof.” He’s so shocked by it all that there is simply no other choice than to be horny for her. Sorry I don’t make the rules.

They live comfortably even though Raminus remains a little terrified of Nim and repulsed by his own willingness to let her back into his life (Compartmentalizing King 👑). He sees hints of the Madgod in her, and it infects him too but in what I’d like to think is a rather wholesome way? She convinces him to retire from his role as Arch-mage and he becomes the eccentric geologist he always wanted to be as a wee lad. They spend the rest of their life travelling Tamriel together and the adventure keeps Nim more or less stable until Raminus inevitably passes from old-age and she makes her way to the Shivering Isles.

The second ending would be far more chaotic lol. In this timeline, she meets with Mephala in the Night Mother’s crypt and accepts the role of Listener, knowing Mephala’s grasp on her soul will keep her on Nirn a while longer before the mantling overtakes her. Also she’s like well I’ve already fucked up my life to the best of my ability, so why not make it worse :D? In this timeline, she still arrives at Applewatch in time to save Lucien and because she doesn’t have her break, she’s there to kill Mathieu. So Lucien and Lorise are both alive, and the three of them + Arquen embark on their little business holiday to Hammerfell and Skyrim to establish new sanctuaries and rebuild the DB. Nim’s relationship with Lucien sours in ✨New and Improved✨ ways, because now he has absolutely no control over her. Now, the power has been completely reversed, and as unhinged as he is, Lucien does honor the Night Mother’s choice to name her Listener. Nim taunts him with this constantly. Also in this timeline, Nim and Arquen have a full blown affair because Arquen recognizes the chance to seize power and Nim recognizes the chance to rub it in Lucien’s face. They are nothing if if not Toxic <3

So yeah, Nim’s accession to Listener leaves Lucien rattled, hollow, uncharacteristically doubtful and maudlin. By now, he’s lost his sanctuary, the rest of the Black Hand, and his Silencer. He has to rebuild completely by himself, and maybe he thinks this is some sort of punishment or test from Sithis? It sends him into a bit of spiral/crisis of faith, because while he’d always respected Ungolim’s leadership and was never covetous of the position of Listener, the fact that the Night Mother chose Nimileth as Listener is quite frankly an insane move that he simply can’t wrap his head around. As an individual, Lucien never truly respected Nim. He was obsessed with her, yes, but he saw her as little more than his knife to wield, and always thought she was a whiny, ungrateful little brat because she was but more importantly because she didn’t worship at his feet like the others in the sanctuary did :’(

And true to his observations, as competent an assassin as she was, Nim was an awful Silencer lol. She was disloyal, unfaithful, distracted, quarrelsome. Not to mention she held and still holds nothing but disdain for their order and has no leadership skills whatsoever. As Listener, she’s so unserious, basically Arquen’s puppet out of sheer indifference, and it disgusts Lucien, further fueling the violent impulses he’s always felt when they’re together, only now he can’t act upon them so he goes on a similar psycho killing spree as he does in the original fic lol. Also Lucien does recognize that there is something awry about the whole thing, because the Night Mother would not have named her Listener if the Dark Brotherhoods best interest were in mind (and he’s not wrong. It was all Mephala’s personal schemes in the end anyway). So yeah, he’s constantly having to quell what he considers the blasphemous, heretical urge to question the Night Mother’s commands and it eats at him constantly.

I imagine after they return to Cyrodiil, Nim settles down in Bravil and is actually quite content there. She makes Lorise her Silencer and spends her days gardening, helping out at the Mages Guild and the chapel of Mara, going on trips with Arquen and Lorise, and Lucien just has to seethe and watch her find happiness without him. He festers a bit in Fort Farragut, playing sad songs on the lyre and drinking Argonian bloodwine, writing on the walls “I will not blaspheme. I will not question the Night Mother’s will. I will not kill disobey the Listener,” all the while thinking why her why her why her. And because they are the most divorced couple on Nirn, Nim can’t let him grow tired of her, so they’re always playing stupid games to make each other jealous, starting fights and fucking about it, and Arquen is just tapping her watch thinking “when are you two going to kill each other so I can become Listener.” It goes on that way until Nim is finally like “okay, I’m bored fr now” and fucks off to the Shivering Isles for good.

As you’ll notice, Lucien does not get a happy ending in any version lol but I loved thinking about them this way. This was such an incredible question and one I had not really thought about before! Thank you so much for asking <3

[reincarnatedonthefirst]

Client Recap, The Republican - Part 2

Part 1

Part 3

Part 4

After I left the client last night, he texted “thank you so much, had a lovely time”. This morning, he thanked me again over email so I think he truly enjoyed my time!

That’s great because I was intimidated by him. I’m generally intimidated by all successful, intelligent, polished, white men. I think most people are conditioned that way: they hold white men on a pedestal. Well, I’m fallible too. As much as I am disgusted by white men, I’ve internalized their “superiority” as well.

Okay. Moving on.

He was a relatively decent guy because even though he was aware of my lower end, massage persona, he chose to pay my full service persona rates. 🥹 It was really good of him to not ask to pay my lower end rate instead. Initially, he booked only two hours but wanted the option of extending to three. When I opened the initial envelope, it had my mid-range two hour rate inside so I knew we were good.

Onto the bad…

He made some homophobic and weird comments about race during the session…

First, he congratulated me for being “proud of being a black woman”… 👀 Okaaay… How he gathered this from my social media posts, I don’t know.

His explanation that a lot of black girls on the ad platforms put their ads in any other ethnic category except “black”. I haven’t actually observed this for myself. Some platforms allow you to advertise in multiple ethnic categories. He may not know that.

I think he’s just jumping at the chance to make, what he thinks, is an intelligent observation on racial identity. I’ve noticed that some white men like to pretend to not be racist by presenting themselves as authorities on race. He hit me with this classic: “I think the world will be much better when we can finally get to a post racial society. It would be great if there was no such thing as race.”

😑

Sonny, you wouldn’t want to live in a world like that because you wouldn’t benefit in a world with more equality. He doesn’t see the implications of a society without racial injustice. His whiteness wouldn’t mean shit.

“Post racial society”… 🙄 Go fuck yourself.

Anyway, moving on. That was definitely the most laughable thing he said last night.

He also went on to imply that homosexuality and being transgender is wrong but that’s typical CIS hetero male mentality. Nothing new there.

He also made a few comments about the election which I side-stepped like a professional. 👏���👏🏾👏🏾 I’m not stepping into that mine field. Definitely applauded myself on that one.

[silver-tongued-bby]

Discretion

Pairing: Dom!CEO!Loki x Reader

Summary: After dropping out of grad school and moving back home you expected very little of your summer. That is until you realise your neighbour, Mr. Laufeyson, has other plans. Set in the mid 90s!

Warnings: NSFW, 18+!!! This is a Dom!Loki fic - though it's not super bd/sm heavy, it explores themes of voyeurism, dub!con spanking, humiliation and degradation. Sexual acts are described including vaginal fingering, dirty talk, oral sex (f receiving) and sexual intercourse (f/m). Smoking is also described. Please read at your own discretion (hehe see what I did there?).

Words: 5,026

Author's Note: I'm excited to say that this is my first ever submission for a challenge! Specifically it's for @boxofbonesfic's Hot Girl Summer Challenge.

I chose prompt 12 (Home for the Summer) and a slightly edited version of quote 17 ("If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me sweetheart darling.") then for kinks I chose voyeurism/exhibitionism and degradation though there's a sprinkling of praise kink in there too.

Not sure why when I think of summer I think of mid 90s summers but here we are. This kinda went places I didn't expect, nonetheless I hope you enjoy!

...

God you were bored.

Stretching out on the lounge chair you sighed, letting your shoulders droop with the long exhale.

“Oh honey, you can’t keep sitting out here in the sun.” Your eyes rolled behind your dark sunglasses, turning towards your stepmother as she came down the stairs from the deck of the house.

“It’ll give you wrinkles dear,” she was standing beside you now, hands on her hips as she stared down at you. She was wearing that ridiculous hat again- the one with the brim as wide as she was tall.

“Carla, darling, we can’t all hide away from life in hopes to look as good as you do.” You lazily gazed at her, sitting up to find your pack of cigarettes on the side table. Taking one out you brought it to your mouth and lit it with your gold plated zippo. You took a long inhale before exhaling right in her face, “when I tell people you’re 53 they can hardly believe it.” Her eyes widened- you’d found her drivers license months ago and held the knowledge of her true age over her since then. You continued, ”my compliments to your doctors. Oh and Botox, kudos to Botox.”

Her little hands formed fists, fake nails pressing tiny neon-pink crescents into her palm.

You laughed, lounging back in the chair as you leisurely took drags off your cigarette. Smiling to yourself as you counted- three, two, one, before Carla shrieked and turned.

“Arthur! Arthur!” She screeched, running back up the stairs to tell your father.

You were a little less bored now, but making Carla’s face turn red could only give you so much satisfaction. You knew your father could care less, they were both about to leave for the Côte D’Azur tomorrow for the rest of the summer, leaving you here alone to “consider the consequences of your actions.” Or however your father had put you dropping out of school after one year of graduate studies in Classics.

He couldn’t help himself from belittling your degree while you were studying, then once you’d decided it wasn’t for you his lectures changed to be about “never giving up” and “seeing something through.” You both knew he simply didn’t want you around- he just couldn’t bring himself to say it out loud.

“Now those will definitely give you wrinkles,” you heard a smooth, silky voice coming from behind you that made your heart race. Smiling, you swung your legs over the side of your chair, taking off your sunglasses and snuffing out your cigarette.

“Mr. Laufeyson,” you started, eyeing the lithe figure as he emerged from the shadows. He held his hands in his pockets, his crisp black trousers fit perfectly to his frame. The sleeves of his black dress shirt were rolled up to his elbows, exposing the pale skin of his toned forearms. You were well aware of the small scraps of white fabric covering your body, and you enjoyed watching his eyes trace over your skin. You’d lusted after him ever since your father had moved here during your first year of college. You’d met him at one of Carla’s Christmas parties- she invited everyone from the gated community over, including your neighbour, Loki Laufeyson.

“I’m so sorry if my stepmother’s incessant shrieking ruined your afternoon,” you grimaced, taking a sip of the ice cold vodka soda beside you. “Is there anything I can do to remedy the situation?” you asked, your eyes innocently meeting his.

He chuckled. “Oh I wouldn’t be surprised if you’ve already thought of something,” he said under his breath loud enough for you to just make out. He strolled towards you and took a seat on the lounge chair beside yours. “I’m actually here to see your Father. He’s asked me to check in on things here while him and Carla are away.”

You rolled your eyes- of course he did. You caught Mr. Laufeyson staring at you as you did that, his expression darkening slightly and his eyebrow raising before he continued. “I am surprised to see you here- last I’d heard you were studying in Europe. Graduate studies in Classics, right?”

“Yeah. It didn’t exactly pan out.” You looked down, cursing yourself for feeling your face grow hot. The last thing you needed was your gorgeous neighbour feeling sorry for you.

“Laufeyson you bastard, you’re late!” Your Father was coming down the stairs, jovial with his greeting.

Loki got up from his seat to meet your father. “Arthur,” he said, shaking his hand. “My apologies, I got held up at the office. It’s been insanity since the new acquisition.”

You tuned out the rest of the business jargon and settled back into your seat, facing the other way. You put your sunglasses back on, wincing once your heard Carla’s shrill voice coming from above.

“Is that Loki Laufeyson? Oh it’s been ages!” she gushed.

“I suppose it has.” You could tell she’d pulled him in for a hug and a kiss on either cheek. You couldn’t help but smile to yourself at the clear discomfort in his voice.

“So I can trust you to keep an eye on the place?” your father chimed in.

“Certainly, although it seems your daughter is perfectly capable of doing so herself.” Mr. Laufeyson rightfully pointed out. You raised an eyebrow, wishing you could see the expression on your dear dad’s face from your position. Mr. Laufeyson was probably the only person in this community that could and would tell your Father that- his annual appearance in Forbes certainly cemented the position.

“You never know with kids, Laufeyson. No matter how old they get you can’t trust them to carry through with something. Just wait until you have one of your own- then you’ll know what I’m talking about." He laughed loudly. You scoffed. Fucking asshole.

“I see. I’ll keep an eye out then.” Mr. Laufeyson said cooly.

“Right well feel free to pop by anytime, we leave tomorrow morning. Here’s the number of my cellular telephone- I always have it on me you know.” Your father was obsessed with his clunky mass of plastic- he brought it everywhere he went, mostly to brag about it to strangers or talk obnoxiously on it to avoid conversations with you or Carla.

“He really does. Even in the bedroom!” Carla giggled, causing you to shudder in disgust.

“Of course, well I should be on my way.” He stepped back over to you. “I suppose I’ll be seeing you around. Here’s my information,” he placed a thick, black and white business card onto the small table beside you. “In case of emergency.”

You pulled your sunglasses down your nose and slid your eyes up his body, biting your lip as you met his stare. “I’ll be sure to remember. See you around, Mr. Laufeyson.”

He considered you for a moment and you thought he was about to say something else before he nodded and turned, heading for the gate.

You settled back in your seat and nestled the headphones of your discman over your ears. You pressed the play button, the beat of Mariah Carey’s “Fantasy” drowning out whatever Carla and your father were arguing about once their guest had left.

...

It was much later that evening that you finally slipped from your room to find some dinner. The house was dark- you knew your father and Carla had an early flight. Grabbing a wrapped plate from the fridge that the housekeeper had left you you headed to the back deck to eat. You kept the lights off as you watched the dim foamy white of the ocean’s waves hitting the rocks below, finding peace in the sound.

Finishing your meal you were about to head inside when you saw a light come on out of the corner of your eye. From where you were sitting you could see into a room on the top floor of Mr. Laufeyson’s house. Interesting- you’d never seen into this room before, the windows that faced your father’s house were usually shuttered. You laid back and lit a cigarette, choking on the inhale when you saw Mr. Laufeyson emerge, shirtless, his eyes dark and hungry. He was pulling a woman behind him, a blonde, her shirt unbuttoned to expose a lacy red bra. Once he stood at the edge of the bed he turned around to kiss her, his hands moving to the clasp of her bra. Undoing it, he pulled away to slide it down her arms before turning her around and unzipping her skirt, leaving her in just a high waisted red lace thong.

Your heart was hammering in your chest. You were transfixed by the scene unfolding in front of you. He flung her on the bed- from your position you could see it all as if it were happening in a room adjacent to yours. Climbing over her he dipped his head to capture her lips once more as he ground against her. Your legs clenched together as you continued to smoke your cigarette, the combined effect of the nicotine and the scene in front of you making your head spin.

His hand trailed down to the red lace covering her heat as he continued to kiss and grind against her. Slipping his fingers in you found you were doing the same to yourself, feeling the hot wet of your arousal. He had pulled away from her now, watching her face intently as her back arched up off of the mattress, her hands clutching his toned arms. He was saying something to her, his eyes going from her face to her heaving breasts as he continued to work his hand inside of her. A flush was blooming on her chest, her mouth open and her eyebrows drawn together. You were moving your hand in time with his, your arousal coating your fingers. His movements became faster as he continued to speak to her, smiling menacingly before her back arched fully off the bed, her hands grasping at him. Withdrawing from the dampened red lace his fingers glistened in the light, wet from her release.

He easily picked her up off the bed, carrying her to the window sill. He roughly pulled her panties down before he undid his trousers then lined himself up at her entrance. He pressed into her, her back flat against the glass and his face visible beside the back of her head, his eyes closed. You imagined how it’d feel, the cool glass against your back, his warm hand firmly gripping your thigh, his strong arms holding your legs open as he fucked you. He began to move inside of her then his eyes opened, staring straight at you in the darkness. Your heart beat faster as you felt yourself blush- surely he couldn’t see you out here, you were shrouded in the dark. You could barely see the outline of your hand as you brought it to your face for another puff. You froze- the cigarette.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you hissed, quickly removing your hand from its position and shakily putting out the cigarette on your dinner plate. Sliding your chair out quietly you chanced one last look towards the window- he was smirking in your direction as he continued to move against the blonde. Your heart felt like it was going to beat out of your chest as you backed away towards the porch door. You could swear his eyes didn’t leave you once and it sent shudders through you. You made your way back to your room and lay awake for hours, each time you closed your eyes you saw his piercing blue-green stare and filthy smirk.

You must have drifted off at some point since you eventually awoke to silence- an anomaly. You’d usually wake to Carla’s screeching laugh as she spoke on the phone to her friends, or she’d send the housekeeper Marie to wake you. You checked the clock beside you- 9AM. Carla and your father were long gone by now.

You smiled at that, stretching lazily before cranking the radio and dancing around your room as you got ready, the sunlight beaming in through your window. Making your way to the main kitchen you froze, last night coming back to you. The way Mr. Laufeyson had looked out at you as if he were expecting you to be there. Did he leave the blinds open on purpose? You shook your head, no way he’d be that forward. Sure he flirted with you every now and then, but nothing beyond that. You pushed the thought from your mind for the rest of the day.

...

A week passed quickly, you spent a lot of time with your friends, going shopping, to the beach, or local restaurants. You didn’t spend much time around the house so you hadn’t seen Mr. Laufeyson since the “incident”. On Friday you met up with some friends midday and got a ride to one of their parents’ beach houses. You spent the day there, drinking and laughing as you enjoyed the sun. Your friends dropped you back off at your place at around 7pm, you were pleasantly buzzed but looking forward to a quiet night in.

It was so hot outside you decided to take a dip in the pool. Cranking the radio in the backyard you decided to skinny dip- no one was home anyways. You sighed as your heated skin met the water, cooling instantly. You did a few laps before lazily swimming a backstroke and humming the music on the radio when you saw something coming towards you out of the corner of your eye. Standing upright you saw Mr. Laufeyson walking towards you from the door to the backyard, a smirk playing at his lips. Your heart started beating quickly as you realised the position you were in, remembering his hungry stare from last week. You swam over to the side of the pool to meet him.

“Hi,” he smiled, looking down at you.

You bit your lip and innocently looked up at him. “Hello, Mr. Laufeyson.”

“I’m sorry to intrude.”

“No worries. Is there anything I can do for you, Mr. Laufeyson?” you asked, noticing his eyes taking in your body under the water. He definitely knew you were naked. Your thighs clenched together at the thought.

“I was coming to see you about something that happened last week that had me… concerned. I thought I saw someone out on the balcony, late at night. Was that you?”

You felt your cheeks grow hot, your heartbeat picking up to a mile a minute. “What day was this?”

“Last week Friday.” His face was serious as he strolled over to a pool chair, pulling it closer to the side and taking a seat.

“I’m not sure. I don’t think anyone was out there then.” The words came out a lot quicker than you’d meant. You were usually pretty good at lying but something in his voice made you want to tell him the truth, to please him.

He tsked. “I’ve seen you lie better than that. Try again darling.” He sounded bored as he reached for your pack of cigarettes on the side table. He raised an eyebrow in question as he drew out a cigarette. You nodded, nervously biting your lip as he lit it and crossed his legs, leisurely smoking while he stared you down.

“No words, little one?” he teased, smirking down at you. “Did you at least enjoy the show?”

You huffed- this was humiliating. How dare he? You found anger quickly overtaking your initial shock and embarrassment as you made your way to the pool stairs and got out. You raised an eyebrow at him and smiled when the smirk slid off his face at the sight of your naked, wet body. Two can play this game. Walking over to him you grabbed a towel off the chair and wrapped it around yourself.

“I don’t know what you’re trying to imply here,” you grabbed the cigarette from between his long, muscular fingers and took a long drag. “But I didn’t see you last Friday night. And I definitely didn’t see you fucking that blonde-” your eyes widened at your own confession.

He stood to his full height and stepped closer to you, looking down at you once more. You backed up a step, feeling the lounge chair behind you.

“Drop the towel,” he growled, the hungry look in his eyes fully directed at you this time.

“Listen-“ you started to explain yourself.

“Drop. The. Towel.” He enunciated each word with his crisp accent and perfect voice.

“I knew it- I knew you wanted to fuck me.” You smirked at him triumphantly as you took another drag.

“If I have to tell you again to take that off, you’re not gonna like me darling,” he threatened, stepping closer.

“Oh really?” You laughed, taunting him. “And what are you going to do, Mr. Laufeyson?” You blinked innocently at him, enjoying the way the muscles in his jaw clenched.

Suddenly he grabbed your jaw, firmly but not painfully as he brought his face inches from yours, your eyes locked.

“You fucking brat.” He roughly pulled the towel down, exposing your body to the warm air. He pinched the cigarette from your fingers, extinguishing it under his shoe on the concrete. “I’m going to have to teach you some manners, aren’t I?”

Before you could answer he spun you both around and sat on the lounge chair then pulled you over his lap, angling you so your top half rested on the chair, your hips over his. One hand firmly held your lower back in place, the other smoothed over the skin of your ass and you squirmed. His hand came down to spank you, hard. “First lesson- don’t fucking move until I tell you to.” You whined, your face burning.

His hand came down again in the same spot, causing you to hiss and grip the plastic of the chair in one hand and his thigh in the other. “Second lesson- always answer me.”

You were humiliated but you found yourself growing even more wet with each spank. First there was the pain, then a wave of pleasure that intensified when he smoothed his hand over the skin he’d hit.

He gave you another slap, “what did I just say?” He growled, his hand roughly gripping the skin this time.

“T-to always answer you.” Your voice was small as you stuttered, overwhelmed by the way he was making you feel.

“Good girl.” You'd felt a tiny swell of pride at that. “I’m going to spank you three more times. Count them for me.”

“Okay,” you nodded, worried if you didn’t answer he’d add more to the list. His hand came down on your other cheek, hard and fast.

“One,” you counted, taking a deep breath. Before you could forcibly relax your tense muscles his hand had struck your cheek once more, causing you to hiss.

Your finger tips were pressing into his thigh as you let out a breath, the sharp pain receding. “Two,” you licked your lips and tensed in anticipation of the third and final slap.

After a few seconds you relaxed then turned to catch his eye- he was darkly observing you with his jaw clenched. Suddenly he hit the skin once more, this time the hardest, causing you to cry out.

You composed yourself with a quick breath. “Three.”

“Well done, darling.” He was gently running over the sore skin with his large hands. You could feel his erection under you.

“I wish you could see how lovely you looked on my lap, taking your spanking so well.” He dipped his hand between your legs. You sucked in a breath when you felt his fingers brush along your wet slit causing you to writhe on his lap.

“My poor, little thing. You’re dripping,” his voice was pure sin as he brought his glistening fingers up to your face.

He shifted, his strong grip helping you off his lap so you stood before him on shaky legs. You bit your lip, face growing hot as suddenly became fascinated with your fingers, twisting them painfully.

He stood then, and brought his finger under your chin to guide your eyes to his. He wore a satisfied expression, a slight grin at his lips as he took in your naked form.

“Do you think you’ve learnt your lesson darling?” He asked, his eyes mocking yours.

You quickly nodded, feeling fully exposed in front of his fully clothed form.

He licked his lips. “Do you want to go upstairs so I can fuck you?”

Your cheeks burnt as you nodded quickly again.

“Answer me darling,” he dropped his hand from your chin.

“Yes, Mr. Laufeyson.”

A slow, filthy grin spread across his face. “Lead the way,” he motioned towards the stairs.

You bent to reach for your towel on the ground. “Ah, ah, no need for that darling.” His words stopped you. You shivered as you stood back up, another wave of heat pulsing through your core.

You tentatively walked up the steep stairs and he followed closely behind. You could feel his gaze on you with each step.

Once up on the patio you looked back at him, his eyes dark with hunger. You gave him a shy smile before leading him inside. You stopped- should you bring him to your bedroom?

Before you could finish your thought he slid up behind you, his hands coming to grip your waist. “Where shall I take you, darling?” He whispered in your ear, his breath making you shiver.

He let go of your waist to circle you, stopping before you. “Do you want me to ruin you on that god awful couch?” He looked over his shoulder to the gaudy floral couch Carla had ordered special from Italy. She wouldn’t let anyone who wasn’t company sit on it in fear of stains.

You smiled at the idea of ruining the couch with Mr. Laufeyson, knowing Carla would lose her mind- even more so if she found out how it got there. “Yes please.”

He pulled you towards it then gently guided you to sit at the edge of it, angling you so you were in one corner. His hands splayed over the skin of your legs, gently pushing them apart. The feeling of the cool air of the house on your slit gave you goosebumps.

He kept his eyes locked with yours as he knelt between your legs before he turned to press a kiss to your thigh close to your knee. He then bit the skin there, earning a sharp inhale from you before he soothed it with his warm tongue.

“Tell me, darling. Did you touch yourself? Did you play with yourself as you watched me?” His velvety voice sent an involuntary shudder through you, his eyes capturing yours.

He nipped at your thigh with his teeth, marring the skin. You yelped then swallowed. “Yes! Yes, I did.”

“Good girl.” He moved to repeat his actions further up the inside of your thigh while he gently ran his fingers up and down your other thigh.

You were trembling while you watched him, each bite a little harder than the last as he got closer to your wet core. His eyes met yours once more then he blew a stream of cold air over your slit, causing you to gasp sharply. He smirked before letting his lips barely graze over your clit, your hips moving slightly before he brought his arm down over them to hold you in place.

He ever so gently pressed a kiss to your clit before gently running his tongue over the sensitive flesh, pulling a moan from you. You could feel your wetness dripping down onto the couch below as he continued to delicately tease you.

“You taste divine, darling. Better than I’d imagined.” You whined at his words- the idea of him alone, picturing what your cunt tasted like brought you to the edge of an orgasm.

He smiled wickedly up at you. “So close already? Poor thing.” Bringing one long finger to your slit he gathered some wetness before pushing it fully within you, forcing a loud moan through your lips.

“It’s okay darling, let go. Give into me. I promise it’ll make you feel so much better,” he hummed against your clit before tenderly sucking on it. He bent his finger within you, hitting something deep that made you cry out. You quickly came, your release squirting around his finger and wetting the couch below.

He kept up his movements as you rode out your high. Once your breath returned to you he pulled away and removed his finger, licking his lips as he wiped your release off his chin.

“Third lesson- good girls always get to cum.” He winked at you with a grin before standing.

He leaned over you, caging you in on the couch before capturing your lips with his. You hummed at the taste of yourself on him, his tongue gliding against yours.

He straightened back up then pulled you up off the couch and guided you to face the other way. He led you so your knees were on the couch, your arms resting against the back of the upholstery. You heard the sound of a zipper before feeling the tip of his hard length slide against your folds. You instinctively arched your back at the feeling, pressing yourself up against him, causing him to groan.

“Such a greedy little brat,” he said, smoothing his hands over the skin of your ass. “You want me to fuck that pretty little cunt, hm?”

“Yes- yes please, Mr. Laufeyson. Please fuck me,” you begged, rubbing yourself on him once more.

With that he thrust into you, holding himself still once he was fully seated within you, giving you a chance to adjust. You’d gasped at the sensation- he was clearly well-endowed and you were thankful he gave you a moment. Willing your muscles to relax you looked back at him before grinding your hips against his.

His eyes were dark with lust, his jaw clenched in a way that made you involuntarily squeeze him as he started to move within you. You were panting as he set a pace, the angle of his thrusts hitting the same spot he’d found quickly before.

You’d turned back around and folded your forearms over the back of the couch, arching yourself against him even more. He growled and picked up his pace, his hand firmly gripping your hip. The angle had you moaning desperately, the feeling of him so deep within you making your fingers and toes numb.

“That’s it darling, take my cock within your needy little cunt. Fuck- I’ve wanted to ruin this tight little pussy for so long. I’ve wanted you for so long,” he rasped out between thrusts and your mind went blank, all you could respond with were desperate moans.

He stopped abruptly and pulled you up before sitting himself on the couch and pulling you over his lap so you were straddling him. He’d unbuttoned his shirt and your mouth went dry at the sight of the musculature under his pale skin. You slid your fingers under the fabric, gripping his firm shoulders as he positioned himself under you.

You moved your hips in a circle over him, enjoying the feel of the very tip of him swirling within you.

“You little tease,” he grinned darkly, running a hand through his hair. “Ride me, darling. Show me what you can do.”

Your cunt clenched at his words and his wicked smirk spread. You took the opportunity to bring yourself down to grind against him, wiping the smug look off his face.

You quickly set a pace as you rode him, his hands on your ass guiding your movements. You were panting as you continued your movements, the angle bringing you close to your finish.

“Are you going to cum, darling?” His voice vibrated through you, and you nodded.

“Yes- fuck, Mr. Laufeyson. You feel so good-“ he continued to guide your movements, moving his head closer to your breast. He brought his mouth around one of your nipples, gently sucking at the nub. You arched into him, moaning at the sensation.

His tongue ran against your skin in his mouth, bringing another moan from you before he sharply bit down on your nipple, pushing you over the edge into another orgasm. You moaned his name over and over as you rode out your high, your nails digging into the skin of his shoulder. As you came back to yourself you felt him twitch within you, filling you as he reached his own finish.

You watched him as he came, mesmerised with his blissful expression, his long eyelashes touching defined cheekbones. His eyes fluttered back open and he gave you a smirk- god help you he was fucking gorgeous.

He gave you a chaste kiss before helping you up, the combined fluids from your finish trickling down your thigh. You were happy to see some hit the couch as you moved off him.

You strolled to the bathroom to clean yourself up and throw on a t-shirt and panties, passing a damp cloth to him once you returned. You pulled a cigarette from the pack you had on the kitchen counter, then headed to the balcony as you lit it up.

You were leaning on the balcony, watching the now dark waves when he joined you. You smiled at him, offering him your cigarette. He took a long drag as you leant on the balcony’s edge.

“So,” you trailed off, not sure what to say.

“That was fun,” he exhaled then smiled at you, his expression mischievous.

“Yeah,” you agreed, relief filling your chest. “I’d love to do it again.”

“Of course darling, we have all summer.” He came behind you, pulling you against his chest as he ducked his head so his lips were beside your ear. ”And you have quite a bit to learn.”

End Notes: Want to read more Loki fics of mine? My masterlist is here.

[untaemedqueen]

Third Wheeling

CEO!Yoongi x Reader

Genre: Strangers to Lovers!AU, Angst, Fluff, Smut

Chapter 29.

Warnings (Updating Still): Smut, Cheating, Unexpected Pregnancy, Unfaithful, Emotional Damage, Love

Warnings For This Chapter: Pre-Wedding Jitters, Dirty Talk, Daddy Kink, Fingering, Praise, Lactation Kink, Milk Drinking, Pregnancy Kink, Wife Kink, Glazed Donut!OC

A/N: Today’s chapter is late because I’ve been busy playing New Pokemon Snap... sry. Shout out to @xjoonchildx, @ladyartemesia and @ppersonna because I’d be lost without them.

There are undoubtedly many events in life that make a person nervous -- your first day of high school and college, your first kiss, your first sexual experience, and for some even your first phone call you give to your doctor when you're no longer under your parents protection. But no one -- not a single person, told you how nervous your wedding day is.

Maybe it's the amount of people that are attending. Two hundred is no small number.

Or maybe it's the fact that with your belly sticking out so far you can barely see your feet makes you feel like you'll be judged.

Whatever it is, the feeling fucking sucks.

You've seen so many movies where the woman who is getting married is all laughs and smiles, giving cheers to anyone and everyone because it's her wedding day. But now, you can officially say it's bullshit.

The best part is, it isn't even today, it's tomorrow and you still are frightened to the bone at the thought.

"-And I mean, yeah. Fine. We chose the taupe napkins but who the fuck is Aubrey to say anything, y'know? Like she knows her colors… Evil witch. I swear I don't know how she passed kindergarten!"

Leena's rant drifts through your ears like a soft breeze. You haven't been paying attention for a while, if you're being honest.

"Y/N? Are you listening to me?!" Leena gawks, grabbing her glass of champagne from Taehyung's hand.

Again, you're caught up in your own mind. You play every scenario of how tomorrow will be and they all seem to be terrible ideas.

What if you trip walking down the aisle?

What if your heel snaps on the way up?

What if your water breaks in front of two hundred people?

What if-

A small square of balsamic bruschetta appears in front of your face and your eyes narrow at the piece of bread.

You feel your soon-to-be husband's fingers pushing back some stray hairs behind your ear. "Food for thought?" he quips happily.

He has not had a frown on his face in what seems like forever. You adore it, you really do. But how can he not be nervous? Your heart is practically thrumming out of your chest.

"Open," he whispers.

Reluctantly, you open your mouth for the appetizer. When he leans in, you look back down at your lap.

"I can see your heart racing through the artery in your neck," he murmurs against your ear.

His hand squeezes your knee under the table reassuringly as he pulls away.

Yoongi wants to pry, he wants to ask you what's got you so in your own head but there are a few too many people here for that.

"Noona, you're an amazing cook." Jeongguk whines, grabbing another piece of steak off the platter.

"You're actually disgusting." Jimin breathes, wrinkling his nose at the youngest's third steak.

"I need my meat, that's how I win in the ring. Gets me all big and strong." Guk beams, cutting into the large t-bone.

"That's what she said!" Hoseok and Taehyung chirp at the same time.

You watch as they high five each other with child-like smiles plastered onto their faces.

"Are you tired? Do you want to call it a night?" your fiance inquires softly, turning his whole body towards you so the rest of the room can't hear him.

You would never want to take away from the festivities. It's just that your stupid anxiety is overwhelming. Looking over at your handsome partner, your fingers intertwine with his. He's quick to kiss the back of your hand, searching your eyes for some sort of hint as to why you're so down.

"No. I'm fine. I'm sorry." you reply, giving him a small smile.

His eyes narrow at your smile and he takes a sharp breath through his teeth in confusion.

"Al...right, if you say so." he says unsurely, running your intertwined hands over your belly.

"Y/N!" Leena whines from across the table and this time you give her your full attention.

You need to try and push this anxiousness elsewhere even for a little while. You will not be a horrible host.

"Yes Beena," you inquire, leaning your chin on your hand.

"Did you hear me? Did you hear what Kim Aubrey said about my wedding planning skills?!" she screeches.

You can only snort as all eyes around the table land on you. "I don't know why you indulge her. Isn't she the one that shit her pants in chemistry when she was fifteen?"

Yoongi laughs loudly, throwing his head back and placing his hand on his chest.

"Actually yeah, she sat two rows behind me!" Namjoon chimes in with wide eyes. His nose wrinkles at the sudden memory and you don't blame him as he pushes his plate away in a sudden state of queasiness.

"So I don't suck at wedding planning?" your best friend pouts across the long table to you.

"Absolutely not." you insist, winking at her.

"This wedding is going to be the biggest event of the entire year. Maybe even the biggest event of the next ten years." Anna, Jimin's wife cheers.

Oh.

Good.

Love that.

"Well, I think we just want people to have a good time. We aren't worried about what impact it will have." Yoongi says quickly, caressing his thumb over the back of your hand to calm you down.

He's not dumb. He's figured it out by now, but he'll still want to hear it from your lips later on.

"Yeah right. 'Min Yoongi and his artistically talented fiance WOW people with their show stopping matrimony' is gonna be on the cover of Dispatch in two days." Hoseok murmurs.

"Oh yeah? And you're gonna be the one giving them the hot scoop, then?" Namjoon jeers, pointing his index finger over the lip of his glass of brandy at the handsome man.

Hobi sneers in his direction and Yoongi can only respond with a chuckle.

"My fiance is pretty show stopping." the CEO surmises, leaning back in his chair.

"Please. I'm eating. Christ." Leena groans through a mouthful of pasta.

It is nice to have so many close friends around tonight though. You hope it can distract you long enough for the nervousness brewing and bubbling inside of you to subside.

When conversations begin to break up and become between smaller groups of people, you can feel his eyes on you like a heat source.

"Little dove?" Yoongi coos softly, rubbing your distended side.

You hum to him, turning to give him your full attention.

"Tomorrow is going to be beautiful and perfect." he promises, tilting your chin up with his index finger.

"No, I know. I'm just-"

"Worried." he finishes for you and he's not surprised to see your reluctant nod of agreement.

"I know. I'm nervous too." he admits, kissing your cheek.

"You've already gotten married before," you scoff, allowing his arm to curl around your shoulders.

"Actually I was black out drunk and can't remember a single thing because I was venomously angry with the dumb bitch that ruined my life before you." he replies with a wide smile.

"Oh. Good." you reply, rolling your eyes at his playfulness.

"So this is my first real wedding too. And even though I'm nervous, I'm excited. Because then when the wedding is over and we get to our honeymoon-"

"Uh uh." you gasp, smushing your finger to his lips.

He pouts against your finger, kissing it softly. "What?" he garbles against your digit.

"We have company." you whisper fiercely.

"Didn't stop you a few days ago when you sucked my cock beneath the desk upstairs while I was on a video meeting." he deadpans, pulling your hand away from his face.

"Yoongi!" you gasp, glancing over the table who hasn't heard a single thing.

You'd like to keep it that way.

"I can't wait to fuck your little pregnant cunt as you're Mrs. Min Yoongi." he beams, kissing your temple.

You can feel your cheeks flushing with embarrassment and you can only blame the man beside you for that one.

When you smack his chest out of shame, the noise echoes throughout the room, earning attention from all of the guests.

"Abuse is not nice, Y/N. Do you want to file a lawsuit, Yoongi?" Yoona quips, sticking her tongue out at you.

The CEO chuckles, squeezing your shoulder with glee. "No, she couldn't handle my lawyers." he bubbles.

"Oh yeah, you know you aren't supposed to sleep with each other tonight, right?" Leena inquires, moving her fork between the both of you.

The cackle Yoongi gives is loud and absurd, much like your best friend's comment. "I can't do anything to her she doesn't have proof of." he banters, pointing at your large belly.

Leena scoffs, pointing down at her plate. "Again. Eating. Gross." she enunciates, pouring herself another glass of expensive champagne.

Jimin's laugh rings throughout the dining room and Yoongi knows that he's the only person who could truly understand him in that moment.

"Why do people do that dumb tradition anyway?" Jeongguk asks, finally finishing his food.

"It actually comes from arranged marriages. When people didn't know who they were marrying." Yoona informs him.

"Fuck that luck shit. That's the saying, isn't it? 'It's bad luck to see the bride' or something like that." Hoseok breathes.

"I think I'm lucky," Yoongi, Namjoon and Jimin reply all at once.

Your best friend takes the opportunity to sneer at her boyfriend and you can't help but giggle at his hopeless expression. "You know I love you, baby." Taehyung coos, sliding his arm over her shoulders.

"Mhm." she drolls, rolling her eyes when both of you look at one another.

"What's for dessert?" Jeongguk asks pleasantly, tying his long black hair up into a ponytail.

"Are you serious? You're not full?" Namjoon gawks at the boxer.

"I was saving room for dessert!" he beams, looking over at you expectantly.

Jeongguk is sweet, sweeter than most younger men you've ever met. He feels something akin to a little brother to you at this point and it's wonderful to see that even if you're rich you can still have manners.

"I made just a simple cobbler, since the wedding cake tomorrow is going to be super heavy and rich." you announce.

Yoongi shoves his chair back, holding out his hand to help you up like the gentleman he is.

He watches you carefully sprinkle powdered sugar atop the dessert with warm eyes.

You don't know how difficult it's going to be walking up that aisle tomorrow, but you do know that your ankles are going to be on fire. They already are.

He picks up the ceramic dish for you, nodding to the chair for you to sit back down and your heart warms for what feels like the billionth time today.

He's such a special person.

"Yoongi is really cool these days, huh?" Jimin jeers, elbowing your fiance when he steps between him and Jeongguk to place the dessert onto the table.

"I've always been cool," he counters, nudging the younger man back

"Well…" Jeongguk and Taehyung droll at the same time.

"Whatever," the CEO breathes, rolling his eyes.

Your giggle seems to light up the room as well as Yoongi's heart. Slamming down in his chair beside you, he can't help the glee that courses through him.

He can't wait for tomorrow.

Climbing into bed, you let the mattress mold to your body and it feels like heaven to be finally laying down, your body certainly thanks you for it.

Yoongi leans against the wall, watching as you sigh happily. "I can just come to bed y'know? I don't need to stay up and hang out." he offers, padding towards you.

"No, that wouldn't be fair. It's your bachelor party. You should be able to play poker and drink." you reply, cupping your stomach.

His eyes drift over you and you can see how soft his expression is in the dim lighting. "You got out of your bachelorette party," he adds, sitting on the edge of the bed.

"I have a reason. I'm pregnant." you deadpan, lifting your head to look at him.

"With my baby," he coos, stretching up the bed to lay down beside you.

"Don't get comfy." you warn him, running your fingers over his clothed chest.

"I'm not, I'll just stay until you fall asleep." he promises, kissing your forehead.

His hand drifts over your stomach and the tiny kick he feels makes his heart beat faster. "Hey, kid. How you doin' in there?" he whispers, running his thumb over the spot his son just hit.

You hum gently, letting your eyes flutter closed.

"I'm so tired but I'm so nervous." you announce in the quiet room.

Your fiance looks away from your belly to look over at you. "It's okay to be nervous, but don't let it supersede your happiness for tomorrow either."

You nod gently, wrapping your arms around his neck. "I just have so many scenarios going through my head."

"And none of them are nice, I'm sure." he replies, booping your nose with his index finger.

Scoffing in agreement, you bury your face into his sweet smelling neck.

"I can make you cum, it might make you sleepy," he offers.

"I can't return the favor though, I'm too tired. It'll be unfair," you whine.

When he clicks his teeth, you only hold him tighter to your body.

"I don't need you to 'return the favor' when you love someone as much as I love you, you'd do anything to see them comfortable." he replies, kissing the top of your head.

"They're waiting for you downstairs." you remind him.

"Let them wait. You come first," he breathes, running the tips of his fingers over your soft inner thighs.

You whine in disagreement but your body betrays you naturally. Your legs spread wider and your breath hitches, your lips softly suckle on the thin skin of his neck waiting patiently for what he will do next.

"Your skin is so soft," he whispers, tugging the seat of your panties to the side.

He pulls away from you just far enough to be able to see how well he pleases you and he's already aroused at the sight.

Your eyes are low with lust, bottom lip clamped between your teeth. Your nipples are stiff peaks, straining against the grey silk nightgown you adorn. He can see the grey fabric becoming darker with each passing second as you bead milk.

"God," he groans, parting your lower lips.

"Tomorrow when we fly to Japan, I'm gonna fuck you in every way you could possibly think of." he promises, running his middle finger through your arousal.

"H-How?" you inquire curiously, gasping when he taps the pad of his finger to your clit.

His lips part and his teeth clamp down on one of the cups of your nightgown before pulling down harshly.

You whimper at the chilly air that glides over your now exposed skin.

He lays soft, hot opened mouthed kisses to your nipple, watching your eyebrows furrow in pleasure.

"How am I going to fuck you?" he prods.

You nod fervently, capturing your index finger between your teeth.

"Well," he begins, drawing smooth, slow circles to your swelling clit, "I'll start on the red eye. I'll take you back to the bedroom and take off that pretty wedding dress you'll be wearing just for me."

"Daddy," you whimper, spreading your legs wider for more.

He hums in agreement, pulling off your underwear to free you completely before him.

"I'm gonna make sure the whole crew of my plane knows you're getting fucked by your husband. Gonna have you screaming my name while I fuck your tight little pussy with my thick cock." he avows, kissing over your shoulder.

His words send shivers up your spine and your toes curl with excitement.

"Fuck," you whimper, grinding your hips down onto his hand.

"Gonna hold your big belly in my hands while I fuck you from behind. Let your milk drip all over the sheets of the bed on the plane. You're gonna beg me to go harder, to fill your dirty pregnant cunt full of my cum. I'm gonna make you feel so good, you aren't even going to care that everyone can hear you calling me daddy."

Shoving two fingers inside of you, he skillfully taps the soft patch of nerves within you and your brain is already firing on all cylinders to cum for him. His thumb begins to press harder circles into your clit and when you cup your belly, his eyes roll back at the sight.

"Gonna get you to the secluded hotel and fuck you out on the balcony, in the bath tub, on the bed, anywhere I can get my hands on you. Because I need you wrapped around me. Always." he murmurs into your ear.

"Shit!" you cry out, letting your head loll back to the pillow.

"Good girl, little dove." he praises, unbuttoning his pants for relief.

The head of his cock peeks out from the lip of his briefs and you whimper at the pearl of precum that beads at the tip.

"You're so beautiful," he breathes, kissing from your collarbone to your pert nipple.

When he suckles softly, your hips lift at the erotocism. He moans at the taste of your milk and his hand ghosts over his hard cock.

"Daddy," you cry out, starting to shake from the overwhelming pleasure.

Sitting up on his knees, he shoves his pants down further. He parts your legs wider and he doesn't seem to care that all of his friends are waiting patiently for him downstairs.

His cock ruts between your folds and you're ever so close to cumming with every swipe the head of his cock brushes against your clit.

"So warm," he murmurs, purchasing his bottom lip between his teeth.

Your moans begin to get louder and he knows you're so close to releasing your pleasure.

"That's it baby, you're so close." Yoongi notices, running his hands over your stomach.

"O-Oh my God!" you cry out, grabbing his hands over your belly.

"I know, little dove. Feels good, huh?" he coos.

You're so obscenely wet, that even without him being inside you he's finding himself close to his own end.

It's just you in general, you overstimulate him in ways he can barely understand.

"Daddy, I'm gonna cum." you bleat, gripping his hands harder.

"Cum for me, little dove. I want to see your pretty face when you cum for me." he begs, rutting his hips harder against your core.

You do as told, cumming for him with white spotted eyes and loud sobs of pleasure.

"Good girl," he praises, pulling away from your weeping pussy.

He fists his cock in hand, dragging the swollen, leaking tip over your belly. "Such a pretty woman I have beneath me. Fuck," he curses, jerking his hand faster.

Even as tiredness begins to shroud you, you want him to orgasm too. "Daddy, cum all over my belly. Want to feel your warm cum."

He takes a sharp breath between his teeth, his eyes snapping to yours.

When you palm your breasts, his eyes immediately falter to them. You pinch your nipples purposefully, earning droplets of milk that stream slowly over your digits.

"Oh fuck!" he gasps loudly, pushing his hair out of his eyes.

"Want your cum so badly," you whimper, looking up at him with doe-like eyes.

"Yeah? You want me to cum all over your belly?" he prods, feeling his balls tightening.

You nod fervently, leaving your breasts to rub circles to your distended skin.

"Fuck!" he curses, squeezing his eyes shut as his orgasm courses through him. His cock throbs and stutters in his hand and you hum with satisfaction when you feel his warm cum land on your belly.

"God, you're too sexy for your own good." the father of your child jeers, sitting back on the heels of his feet.

You find yourself giving a tired giggle and your eyelids slowly begin to shield your eyes from view.

"Good girl." he whispers softly, hopping off the bed to clean your stomach.

When he comes back with a wet towel, he can see that you're already fast asleep. He's happy knowing that you'll be able to sleep even if it's only for a few hours.

He can understand your worries and your fears but he wants you to be able to enjoy your wedding too.

Kissing your forehead as he cleans your belly, he sighs softly. "My wife," he breathes, closing his eyes.

"I'll be back later, my love." he promises, tossing the rag back into the bathroom.

Yoongi covers your naked body with the comforter and his heart is thudding in the recesses of his chest with joy.

Just a few more hours and you'll be legally his.

"Remind me why we're playing poker the night before your wedding instead of going out?" Taehyung asks, throwing chips into the center of the green felted table.

"Because there's no pregnant strippers around these parts," Jimin jeers, picking up his beer.

Yoongi sneers at the younger man beside him, elbowing him almost out of embarrassment.

"What? If I could go see a pregnant strip show, believe me, I would."

"We know." everyone replies, rolling their eyes.

"Last time you had a bachelor party, man, that shit was fun." the hotel CEO recalls.

"You had fun." Yoongi reminds him, ashing his cigar.

"Also, aren't you completely smitten with Leena anyway? You want her to have your baby." Namjoon prods, placing his cards down on the table.

Taehyung smirks at his comment, leaning back into his chair and slinging his arm over the lip. "Oh, I'm very happy. She's everything I could possibly want." he affirms, smiling to himself.

"Then why do you want to go to a strip club?" Hoseok adds, throwing chips onto the table.

"Because I like tits. Jesus Christ, just crucify me why don't you!" Tae replies appalled.

Yoongi snorts loudly, clamping his teeth down on his cigar.

He wonders if you're okay, if you've woken up in the past few hours due to his son being so active.

His fingers flex uncomfortably and he's still surprised how much his life has changed in such a small amount of time. He's gone from being a violent, sadistic, narcissistic asshole to being a needy, loving and adoring man. And that's all thanks to you.

You've completely changed the pattern of his DNA and he could never appreciate you as much as you deserve.

"You excited for tomorrow, hyung?" Guk's voice pulls him from his thoughts and he smirks at the younger man.

"Very excited but very nervous." he admits to his group of friends.

"I remember the night of his other wedding. He was so fucking drunk he could barely stand up on his own." Jimin recalls with a laugh.

"I had to hold him up with my shoulder from behind so he didn’t fall backwards." Namjoon adds with a sharp laugh.

Yoongi smirks to himself, looking down at his pocket which holds his wallet. "Well, I'm just glad we don't have to have a repeat of that horrible day again."

"You got lucky dude, not many people find their soulmate when they were an asshole like you were." Hoseok says, pointing at the Kisung CEO.

His sneer is terrifying but probably only to himself as the other men laugh at Hobi's words.

"Y/N completely made him do a 180." Joon concurs.

"I like Y/N noona a lot. She fits in well and she's always optimistic and sweet. We needed someone like her in our lives." Guk beams and your soon-to-be husband seems to glow in their praise.

He loves hearing his friends talk so highly of you. He loves knowing that you're loved for being yourself, especially because you don't know it very often.

He can remember when he first met you, in the back of Seokjin's club. You were sweet and kind but a smart ass and cheeky at the same time. You intrigued him on so many levels and he can remember how badly he wanted to destroy you. But he never would have expected to fall in love with you as earnestly as he has.

And he wouldn't change it for anything in the universe.

"Leena has been putting in so much work for this wedding, you would think it's hers." Taehyung laughs, pulling Yoongi out of his reverie.

"And when are you getting married to her then?" the Kisung CEO inquires, ashing his cigar.

The question seems to stupify the handsome hotel owner, he stutters and shifts awkwardly in his seat trying to reply to the sudden question.

"Jesus, you broke him!" Jimin laughs, clapping his best friend on the back.

Taehyung's cheeks burn bright red and his hand immediately cups the back of his neck out of embarrassment. "I mean I bought a ring. I just haven't thought of anything romantic to y'know… ask her."

Beer goes flying out of Jimin's mouth and the sneer Yoongi gives makes him want to die on the spot.

"Jimin. You're paying for the new felt, you fucking animal." Yoongi gripes, watching Namjoon and Hoseok heartily laugh at the younger man.

"That'll be great! Leena noona is really nice!" Jeongguk cheers, hugging Taehyung happily.

"Thanks…" Tae breathes embarrassed.

Yoongi winks at him and he isn't surprised in the slightest, he knows just how smitten the man is with your best friend.

"Yoongi?"

The voice is gentle and tired.  In an instant he's burning out his cigar and waving the smoke away.

"Yeah, baby?" he calls to you, disregarding the others in the library.

"Just checking to see if you were all still here," you murmur, stepping into the library doorway.

You're beautiful in the dim glow of the library's lights and the smile that spreads over his face is heart shatteringly perfect.

"Still here." he beams, padding over to you.

"Okay." you bleat, rubbing your sleep hooded eyes.

"What're you doing up, my dove? You must be so tired." he inquires, pushing hair back behind your ear.

"I'm thirsty. Wanted water." you chirp, pressing your forehead into his chest.

"Okay. Get your water and I'll be up in a few minutes. Alright?" he promises, tipping your chin up with his index finger.

You hum in agreement, starting to yawn.

He chuckles at your sleepy state, kissing your forehead. He pats your backside for good measure before turning to his friends that are seated around the poker table.

"I think it's time to get some rest before the big day tomorrow."

The guys hum in agreement, tossing down their cards and standing up.

"Tomorrow's gonna be great, man. I'm really happy for you." Joon whispers, patting his shoulder as he heads out first.

Yoongi can only agree with a wide smile.

Tomorrow is the start to the rest of his life. And it's perfect, just like you.

Next Chapter ----->

Third Wheeling Taglist -  @wickizer, @imluckybitches, @slothykrueger, @claireelise19, @ggukkieland, @rspbrryy, @iv-bts, @bambuzlee, @chanelbts, @mxxngxdss, @bluewhale52, @milesjeon11, @diamonddia-mond, @vinylphwoar, @xnxy97, @hubbytaehyung, @140503at-dawn, @bts-7beauts, @jadeblackwoll, @sunshiine-hobii, @creatorspalace, @eclectically-esoteric, @nikkiordonez12, @kaitswrld, @skamlover200, @sevgilove98, @kooeuphoria, @jikooksgirl19, @hobbledehoy26, @singular-itae, @dchimminie, @lowlifeoeuvre, @sugaslittlekookies, @bloopbloopb, @pjmcth, @softysuho, @codeinbelle, @jaiuneamesolitaiire, @betysotelo18, @jeonmisha, @iwanttohitmyself, @ayyyocee, @neverthefirstchoice, @itsbangtanoclock, @little7bitchh, @veryuniquenamegoeshere, @deathkat657, @firstlovesuga-93, @namjoonia, @paperpurple, @muzikabijou, @liebeoppa, @veronawrites, @kleff03, @ruinsofangels, @brightwingr5, @leekanchol, @rkivemagic, @ithinkileftmycoatoutside, @melaninkpops, @y00ngisbabygirl, @ungodlyjoon, @prochnost513, @dunixxd, @athenakyle, @igotnotype, @chxmachxps, @tinymintyoongi, @vangameren-blog, @alpaca1612, @ohcarolinamin, @thegreatestsushi​, @eltrain80, @btsmylife21, @deeepvibes, @httpminyg, @deliciouslydisturbed365​, @rkchmestizangmaldita​, @jimin-chu, @pimpnameyannie​, @preciouschimine​, @daughterofthequeen, @monetsberet​, @vanillamyg, @aamxxrii​, @kooafraid​, @ladykadyrova​, @singjisu​, @yazanii​, @moonlitmyg​, @justzeera​, @absolutefantrash​, @whocaresarchives​, @loosewindmill, @vantesfx​, @bt21chim​, @flowerboyhobi​, @kozuume-kenma, @taepiper​

Sorry for those it didn’t tag!

[dp-marvel94]

Below the Greenhouse

For Phic Phight 2021. Prompt by @ave-aria: Maddie discovers the depths of Vlad's obsessions when she stumbles upon his secret lab. Despite the shock, part of her almost isn't surprised by the stolen Fenton Tech, the ripoff ghost portal, or the eerie Holo-Maddie—but the clone she finds floating in the pod at the back of the room? That's another matter entirely.

Word Count: 7,951

Also on AO3 and Fanfiction.net

Note:

Me: *sees a prompt with the word clone*

Me: Oh no.

We all know why this happened.

 Maddie knew Vlad Masters was a creep. She did. And she’d known this for a while, even when she, Jack, and Vlad were in college. Before his accident, she had known he'd been preparing to profess his “love” and ask her out, even though he’d known full-well she and Jack were dating. And while, that might have been forgivable back then, when all of them were young and naive and Vlad didn’t hold such bitterness towards her husband, it wasn't now.

Now, Maddie knew Vlad was hopelessly bitter. After his accident, he’d refused to talk to them. He’d shut them out of his room when they visited the hospital and after he’d been released, he’d refused their phone calls and ignored their letters. Eventually, she and Jack gave up and they moved on with their lives.

That was, until Vlad chose to reconnect. And unfortunately, Vlad was worse than ever. More smug. More arrogant. More creepy. He ignored the fact that Maddie was happily married with children and he still insisted that she should leave the love of her life for him. 

Maddie really only tolerated him for Jack’s sake. Her husband still enthusiastically loved the man who’d been his best friend in college and she couldn’t bear to crush his spirit, though the woman was increasingly doubting her choice to stay silent now.

And now, Maddie realized that Vlad was much more despicable than she thought.

It started with a series of strange phone calls. The voice was robotic, yet strangely familiar sounding. It reminded her of her mother or maybe her sister? Either way, the sound somehow tugged at her heartstrings just as much as it made her shiver anxiously.

“Please save him.” The woman’s voice asked, an oddly flat plea.

“Tell me who you are.” Maddie demanded, not for the first time.

The speaker ignored the question, continuing. “I cannot get Number 6 out myself. Please save him.”

“You keep saying that, every time you call this number.” The woman sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. This was the fifth time she had gotten a call like this. All from an almost emotionless, staticky voice. All begging her to save someone or something called Number 6. Something she couldn’t seem to get anymore information about. “But who is number six?” Maddie asked, trying, probably futilely to learn more.

The answer surprised her. “Number 6 is just a boy. He should be free. He does not belong in a laboratory.”

Maddie frowned, brows furrowed in confusion “A laboratory?”

“That is correct.” The robotic voice answered.

“I’m sorry, are you talking about an actual child? What is a child doing in a laboratory?” The woman wrinkled her nose in disgust.

“Number 6 is physically younger than the age of majority and therefore meets the definition of a child.”

“Okay?” Maddie furrowed her brow and repeated herself more severely. “Why are you keeping a child in your laboratory?”

There was a pause. “I am not permitted to share that information.”

That made the woman’s stomach flop. “And why not?”

“My dearest has forbidden me from discussing the details of his experiments with outsiders.”

Maddie frowned again. “Then why are you talking to me?”

“You are a loophole.” The speaker said without hesitation.

That gave the ghost hunter pause. She opened her mouth to ask more when there was a mechanical whirl across the line.

The fast, choppy words cut through. “Dearest will be leaving on a trip tonight and be away for the next three days.” 

“Wait, what are you-” Maddie started.

“The address is 600 North Maple Drive. Enter through the trapdoor in the greenhouse. I will be waiting.”

Across the line, a male voice called from far away. “Pull up the data from the last test, dear. And prepare the subject for sample collection.”

Maddie shivered; there was something familiar-

“Please hurry. Save him.” The robotic female voice whispered before the line cut off.

Maddie sighed, dropping the phone. She put her head in her hands. She didn’t know what to make of that. At first, she had thought these mysterious calls were pranks. Maybe even a ghost trying to trick her. Except…. That didn’t feel right. It had been a week and no ghost had acted against her or her family. No ghost would wait this long to act and no human prankster would continue this charade for this long either.

So who had been calling her and what do they really want? Could the speaker really be asking for her help? The idea made dread pool in her stomach, especially now. Now that she had more information. Now she had a location. And that was Vlad’s address. And that other voice...it had sounded like… Vlad, as if the speaker was in fact in Vlad’s mansion. Her stomach flopped. He’d been talking about data from a test and preparing a subject for sample collection. That in and of itself wasn’t necessarily that alarming. Vlad had a background in science. He could be conducting research, just like she and Jack did out of their own basement. Except…

Number 6 is just a boy. He should be free. He does not belong in a laboratory. The words rang in her head, making her feel sick.

Maddie sat for a long while, staring at the phone. So many questions clashed in her mind and she wanted answers. What was really happening here? And how would she learn the truth?

An idea started forming in her mind. A surely bad, horrible idea. She still had no idea who had been calling her. It probably was a trap. So why did she want to follow the instructions? And the prospect of sneaking onto Vlad Master’s property? She could get in serious trouble. And for what? Vlad would never do anything as immoral as what the speaker hinted at. Except...what if? Doubt grew in her mind. What if?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

That was how Maddie found herself pulling up to Vlad’s mansion in Amity Park. The woman sighed, putting the car into park and taking the key out of the ignition. She was really doing this, wasn’t she? The scientist could hardly believe her own actions. But it was the middle of the night and she was alone, in the small forest behind the mansion. 

Silently, Maddie got out of the car and started sneaking across the yard. She hadn’t told Jack where she was going. Maybe that was a mistake but the woman somehow knew he’d try to talk her out of this. And he would have a point. Yet the woman was still driven forward despite her better judgement. 

Arriving in front of the greenhouse, the ghost hunter stopped. She looked side to side, checking to see if anyone was watching. The yard was quiet and bare, only the sound of night insects cutting through the air. Maddie looked back into the building. To the left of the door was a blinking red light but other than that, inside was dark. Tentatively, Maddie jiggled the greenhouse’s door handle. It didn’t budge at first but then there was a buzz and a click. The door unlocked and the woman frowned, watching the blinking light turn from red to white. Was that a security system? And...had the door just unlocked for her?

Maddie bit her lip. She considered turning back but...she wanted answers. Instead, she pulled her ectostaff out of her belt. A blow to the head from it would be just as effective on a human attacker as it would be on a ghost.

The woman opened the door, quickly stepping though. She closed it and cautiously crossed the room. From what she could tell in the dark, this was a normal greenhouse. She breathed deeply, taking in the wet earthy smell of dirt, the soft perfume of flowers, and… She sniffed. That scent, old batteries, ozone, and citrus. That was familiar. Was that ectoplasm? 

Maddie turned, eyes searching for the tell-tell glow of a ghost. Her gaze fixed on something a few rows over. The huntress continued forward, brow wrinkling at the sight. Unsurprisingly, these were plants but….a faint glow enveloped the snow white leaves, the orange and black fruits. Tentatively, she reached forward and cupped one of the fruits. Even through her gloves, she could feel the ghostly chill. 

Maddie’s frown deepened. She’d never seen anything like this before. Was this some kind of ghostly plant? And in Vlad’s greenhouse of all places? Where did it come from? How did the billionaire procure it? And why hadn’t he said anything to her and Jack?

With that thought, the ghost hunters’ stomach flopped with nerves. There was actually something here, something out of the ordinary. Her mind turned back to those phone calls, the reason she was here in the first place. The speaker had said something about a trapdoor.

With that, Maddie pulled a flashlight out of her belt and flicked it on. She looked down, searching, and her eyes widened. Oh….well then. There, not three feet in front of her, was the door. The woman approached. Crouching down, she put down her staff and grasped the flashlight between her teeth. With both hands, she pulled the door up, revealing a short ladder leading to a narrow passageway.

The ghost hunter furrowed her brow, hesitating for a moment. She braced herself, forcing her shoulders to relax to dislodge some of the anxiety. Maddie stood up straight. She grabbed her staff and started lowering herself down the ladder. Once she was at the bottom, the woman turned and pointed the flashlight down the passageway. There, maybe ten feet in front of her was a metal blast door.

Dread rose in Maddie at the sight but she tried to push it down. This was probably an old cellar, or maybe even a bomb shelter. Rich people tended to have those, didn’t they? It could be…..

The woman stepped forward. Tentatively, she placed a hand on the opening mechanism. It looked like a wheel that she’d need both hands to open. She moved to return her staff to her belt but before she could, a mechanical whirl sounded. The wheel started turning. Paling Maddie rapidly stepped back. Her heart pounded in fear of being caught.

Then the door swung open with a groan. The ghost hunter registered bright light pouring through the opening. She blinked for a moment, her eyes adjusting to the change. Then she registered the translucent figure floating across the doorway. 

Maddie scowled, acting on instinct. “Take that ghost.” She swung her staff but the blow never connected, instead sailing through the blue clad figure without resistance.

“I am not a ghost.” A familiar, robotic voice responded.

It was then that Maddie finally registered what she was seeing. She gasped in shock. It was herself, except floating, translucent, and...glitching around the edges? “What are you?” She breathed.

“I am the MADDIE program, an artificial intelligence meant to emulate Dr. Madeline Fenton.”

The ghost hunter stared for a long moment in confusion. She hadn’t expected a response and now her mind couldn’t catch up, barely processing what she was seeing.

The hologram floated backward, motioning into the door. “Come inside.”

Maddie blinked, registering the words. Her eyes flitted from her strange double to the interior of the room. Concrete floor, metallic walls, sturdy work tables, and….a soft green light. It looked familiar, very much like the Fentonworks lab. The woman’s heart skipped a beat. She’d already come this far….

The huntress took a few steps forward and crossed the threshold, all the while keeping her eyes on the hologram. The other figure was unmoving and silent, not even blinking. After another long moment staring, Maddie warily looked around. As she’d glimpsed, there were shiny metal work tables and shelves. A station with a microscope, centrifuge, and table top incubator. She frowned, eyes falling on glowing vials of ectoplasm. 

This was a lab, obviously. A ghost research lab, based on the ectoplasm. But below Vlad’s greenhouse? Her eyes flickered to another table, this one holding familiar looking devices. Ectoguns, slim and silvery with a design Maddie knew intimately, despite the unfamiliar logo and red accents.

The woman walked forward, tentatively hefting the gun. “This looks like our model 35.” She stated seriously.

Maddie then turned, facing the source of the soft green light. Her jaw dropped at the sight of the swirling green. “That’s a portal. A ghost portal.” She muttered. 

The scientist took in the design of the frame, of the ecto-filtrater and the control panel. That was her and Jack’s design as well. Her mind swam, information bouncing around senselessly as she tried to make sense of all this. This was a lab. A ghost research lab. A hidden, secret research lab in Vlad Master’s backyard, below his greenhouse. Vlad’s secret lab. But...why?

She bit her lip, her eyes falling on the Fenton Works designed weapons and the portal. Their stolen designs. Maddie could barely believe it, yet she wasn’t as surprised as she should be. Vlad still having an interest in ghosts? The creepy billionaire stealing their blueprints? Why did that seem all too plausible?

“Dr. Fenton?” A staticy voice asked behind her.

Maddie turned, frown deepening as she took in the hologram again. Her mouth felt dry. “He….Vlad...made a hologram that looks and sounds like me.” She felt sickened at the thought, at the evidence in front of her. 

“Yes. I was modeled after Dr. Madeline Fenton.” The hologram replied.

The ghost hunter put a hand on her head, feeling a headache grow. It made sense, in a sick kind of way. Vlad had a fascination with her. He was not exactly subtle in his ‘affections.’ Of course he would create this creepy copy. “Why?” She groaned, in rising anger.

“I was created to serve as a digital assistance and security system.”

Maddie looked up, blinking in confusion. She hadn’t been expecting an answer. The woman then frowned, realizing something. A security system? Did that mean… “You unlocked the greenhouse door for me...and turned off the security system.”

“That is correct.” The hologram replied.

The ghost hunter wrinkled her brow. “Why?”

Somehow, almost imperceptibly, the figure’s expression softened. “You came to take Number 6 away from here.”

That gave Maddie pause, her eyes widening slightly as she took in the AI with new eyes. “You were the one calling me.” 

It finally hit her. The voice on the phone, the monotone one that reminded her of her mother and sister. It was this AI, this AI which sounded very much like Maddie herself. Of course she hadn’t recognized that. Most people don’t know what they really sound like outside of their own head and Maddie herself was no exception.

“Yes, I did.” The AI confirmed. “Please save him.”

“Him?” Maddie bit her lip, feeling that familiar dread again. “Number 6? Who is this person?”

The hologram floated toward the other side of the room, towards a tall cylindrical metal tube that Maddie hadn’t noticed yet. “Come.” She motioned the ghost hunter to approach.

The huntress did so, fixing a studious gaze on the tube.

“Viewing panel opening.” The AI announced as the whirl of gears sounded throughout the room.

In front of the cylinder, metal paneling slid apart. Slowly a gap opened, making the inside of the pod visible. Maddie first registered neon green ectoplasm swirling in some kind of solution. Then her jaw dropped. There, suspended in the chamber was a lithe figure. It looked male, the form of a young teenager. For a moment, the ghost hunter registered white hair and a black and white garment. Phantom? Had Vlad managed to capture Phantom? No...that….

Her brow furrowed, stepping closer. She examined the glowing body. The figure’s appearance was shifting. Its skin was a mosaic of ghostly blue and a pale, more human color in ever changing, shifting patches. The black and white garment also shifted, seeming to grow and spread over the body before retreating, leaving bare skin. On the head was a mop of black and white hair, the patches rapidly changing color and appearing to move across the skull.

Maddie frowned. There was a resemblance to Phantom. (How? How in the world?) But this wasn’t the same being. “This is a ghost.” Her brow wrinkled in confusion, despite her confidence of the fact.

“Yes.” The MADDIE program answered plainly. 

The scientist turned. “I am not letting a ghost out of here.”

The hologram frowned. “Number Six is a boy. He deserves to be free.”

Maddie pointed. “But….that is a ghost.”

“Yes.” The AI confirmed again. “But he is also a boy. Observe.” The translucent figure waved a hand over one of the computers. “Display subject’s vials.”

Instantly, readings appeared on the screen, a rhythmic beeping commencing. The ghost hunter studied the words and numbers. “Oxygen saturation, Blood Glucose, Blood pressure, Heart Rate.” Her brow furrowed. “These are vials for a human.”

“Yes. These are Number six’s vials.” 

Maddie scrunched her nose in disbelief. “But...this is a ghost.” 

But the sound of the heart monitor pounded in her head. She turned, facing the figure in the tube again. The readings could be fake. But why? And why did Vlad have a ghost captured in his lab? And why did it resemble Phantom? Or at least, it seemed to. Not that she’d ever been this close to Phantom before but the white hair, suit, and lithe figure were the same. She took in the shifting appearance. And what was that? An attempt at shapeshifting?

Maddie turned back to the screen, reading again. At the top, it read Clone Six, 100% stability. “Clone?” The woman questioned. “Clone of who? Of Phantom?”

“Yes.” The AI answered. In response, the ghost hunter turned sharply. The hologram continued. “Subject Six has completed the gestation period and is now viable and capable of living outside the artificial womb.”

Maddie blinked rapidly. There was a lot of information there. “Clone? Vlad cloned Phantom and...it’s ready?”

“Yes. He is stable.” The hologram turned. “Please save him. Take him away from dearest.”

“Look.” The scientist pinched the bridge of her nose. “I am not letting this ghost go.”

“He is a boy.” The AI insisted.

“You say that but-”

“And a ghost.” The hologram continued. “He is a living boy and a ghost.”

Maddie’s heart skipped a beat. “Living?”

She turned back to the chamber, something in her resonating at the word. The strands of black hair, the human colored skin, the patches that did not glow. She looked up into the face and something itched in the back of her mind. It looked familiar, not just because the ghost looked like Phantom.

Maddie took another step. She reached forward until she was touching the glass. The heart monitor steadily beeped as the figure in the chamber twitched.

The huntress shook her head, denying. “That’s just...not possible. Someone can’t be a ghost and a human.” What the AI was saying was nonsensical, completely impossible. So why did Maddie not feel certain?

“Initiate wake up sequence.” The AI declared.

Startled, Maddie’s head whipped to the side. “What are you-”

In the chamber, something thumped. The woman’s head turned to see flailing limbs. The figure’s eyes suddenly popped open, one blue and one green panickedly flickering around the room. The rate of the heart monitor increased. The being thrashed, chest spasming. A hand pounded against the glass. 

“What did you do?” Maddie demanded of the AI.

There was no answer, just fearful flailing within the tube. The ghostly figure’s gaze shifted down and fell on Maddie. The eyes widened, silently begging. More pounding of hands on the inside of the glass. The beeping increased, pounding into the woman’s head. The ghost boy blinked and the eyes were blue, icy blue. The gaze, the familiar gaze stabbed Maddie in the heart.

The woman panicked, her own heart race. Her eyes ripped away from the boy. What do I do? What do I do? Her mind raced. Her gaze fell on a large button marked, Emergency release. She acted without thinking, slamming her hand down on the button.

There was hiss and a beep from the chamber. In the blink of an eye, the glass wall of the chamber parted. Maddie yelped, jumping back as water and ectoplasm poured out. The liquid soaked her anyway. Then, the boy inside the tub was falling. He tipped forward and the woman reached out to catch him on instinct.

A surprisingly heavy body fell onto the ghost hunter. Her knees threatened to buckle under the sudden impact. Instead she wobbled and wrapped one arm around the lithe body. Shakily, Maddie lowered herself to her knees, taking the ghostly figure with her.

Numbly, hardly believing what she’d just done, the woman huddled on the floor. She tensed at the being reached towards her. A part of her brain screamed that it was unsafe to be so near to a ghost, yet she didn’t move as ungloved hands weakly grabbed onto her jumpsuit and the ghost pressed into her chest, as if it was hugging her. 

Maddie looked down at the being, marveling at the sight. Its appearance was still shifting. Black and white hair. Black jumpsuit and bare skin. Patches of ghostly blue and pale human skin. The woman could feel the ectoplasmic energy, the ghostly chill radiating off the being as well but..... Its glow...there was something off. The glow was dimming. It flickered like a light bulb before cutting off.

In front of her came a whine as the ghost buried its head into her shoulder. Soft cold breath caressed her check. Breathe? Maddie’s heart skipped a breath. She could feel the chest rising and falling with fast breaths, pressed against her as it was. And that beeping. Maddie glanced up at the display. The heart monitor was still keeping pace with a rapidly fluttering heart.

The scientists breath lodged in her throat. No this was...ghosts didn’t breath. They didn’t have heart beats. They didn’t…. She looked down at the shaking figure again and her world turned upside down. The black suit was receding, evaporating. It disappeared off the arms and chest, every part of the body she could see, leaving bare skin below. And that skin, it was changing. Pale peach-tinted skin was rapidly replacing the inhuman blue. A warm breath blew over her check, the ghostly chill quickly vanishing. The weight pressed into her increased, the fingers holding onto her becoming warm and solid. And on the head, black overtook white until she was staring down at the full black head of hair.

Maddie’s mind stopped unable to process. This was...she was...in front...of her...this was... She blinked rapidly, as if the sign would change but...the lack of glow, the human skin tone, the warmth, the breathing, the black hair. That..that damn heart monitor. This...this was...no...no way. The ghost hunter shakily, wrapped her arms around the now hyperventilating figure. She winced feeling the warm, solid skin under her gloves. This was impossible but….

This...this was a human. No ghost...no ghost could fake this. No shapeshifting would give a ghost human warmth and a heartbeat. And she could feel it, the rapidly fluttering heart pressed against her own. 

The ghost whined again. No. no. The boy. The boy who had just been a ghost but had changed. The boy who’d just been inside that pod. Who was shaking and hyperventilating in front of her. Another whine. A tear fell onto her shoulder.

Maddie’s mind finally caught up. Her arms shifted into a more proper hug, hands reaching up to run through the black hair. “Shhh. Shh. It’s okay.” The woman whispered. “Breath with me. In.” She breathed in deliberately. “And out.” She pushed the air out of her lungs. “In and Out.”

The boy copied, his breaths following hers. In and out. In and out. His breathing slowed as did the beeping of the heart monitor. Slowly, so slowly, his shaking subsided but the boy didn’t let go of her suit.

Maddie stayed still, questions bombarding her now that the boy was calmed. This boy, who was he? Where had he come from? Why...why did Vlad have a teenager in his lab? And why did he have a ghost that could change into a human? Or was this a human who could turn into a ghost? Her mind raced, her own heart rate increasing with overwhelming confusion. How was this possible? What was this kid?

She looked down, an idea sparking. That ghost disease that all the teenagers supposedly got. The disease that gave them ghost powers. She and Jack had never seen any of the supposedly infected students. They’d dismissed the claims as absurd. Humans could not have ghost powers. Yet Jazz and Danny’s friend, Sam, had both insisted that they’d gotten sick and both had displayed a ghostly ability. And if...if that was true….. She paled, the overheard words from the last phone call hitting her. Tests, sample collection, subject, experiment. If Vlad was experimenting with that disease, experimenting with ectoplasm on...on….

“Where...where am I?” A quiet male voice asked, directly in front of her. Maddie stiffened at the words, roughly pulled out of her thoughts. “What’s happening?”

The woman’s heart stopped. That voice. That voice. Oh god. Suddenly shaking, she unwrapped her arms from the boy. Gently, so gently, she grabbed his wrists and pulled his hands off of her. The boy seemed to shrink in on himself at that, shoulders falling. 

He sniffled but Maddie shushed it. “Look...look up at me.” She quietly asked. Slowly, the teenager obeyed and again, the mother felt like her world was turned on its head. Familiar, icy blue eyes met hers. The curve of that nose, the round chin, the slightly chubby cheeks. Oh god, she knew...she knew this face intimately. A trembling hand reached out to touch, cupping the boy’s cheek. “Danny?” Maddie asked, before she could really think.

The blue eyes widened, looking at her with the most pure and innocent hope she’d even seen. “Danny? Is that...is that my name?”

The woman’s expression fell, her mind catching up to the question, to what she was seeing. No, this couldn't be Danny. She had just seen him earlier that night. And on the face in front of her….The freckles….the freckles were wrong, laid out in a different pattern. And the scar above his lips, where was it? The mother glanced down, at his collar bone. The birthmark wasn’t there. And...her heart skipped a beat. No, he was too young, maybe two years younger than her son’s current age of 16.

The woman removed her hand. “No. I’m sorry. You’re not….you look like him, like Danny. So I thought….But you’re not...you’re not him.”

The boy’s shoulders fell and his eyes fixed down. The suddenly heartbroken, lonely look broke Maddie’s heart. “Oh. Then...who am I?”

The ghost hunter frowned at the question, her mind trying to form an answer. Who was this boy who looked like her Danny? Wait…. The words on his vitals display flashed in her mind. Clone number 6. Clone. “You’re a clone.” She blinked, mouth falling open. “You’re a clone of my son.”

The boy looked up, raising a brow. “What’s a clone?”

Maddie flushed at the question. It was so innocent. And his eyes, staring up at her like she had the answer to every question in the universe. “That’s...that’s complicated.” She glanced down, cheeks reddening in a sudden realization. “Let’s umm...let’s get you some clothes first.” The mother blushed for a moment. He’d been naked this whole time, while they’d been hugging and she had been comforting him.

“Clothes?” The boy tilted his head and the innocent confusion, the lack of embarrassment, just about killed Maddie. This looked like a teenager but obviously he wasn’t actually one.

The mother pushed the thought away, head surveying the room for something to cover the child with. She gaze fixed on something white hanging on one of the walls. Lab coats. Maddie started pushing herself to her feet.

The boy whimpered, grabbing her hand. “Don’t leave me.”

Maddie’s expression softened. “I’m not. I’m just going to get you something to wear.”

Shakily, she stood and walked across the lab. All the while, the woman could feel the eyes on the back of her head. But she ignored it, focusing on grabbing a coat. She pulled the white garment off the peg and quickly returned. Maddie then knelt down and held out the coat. The boy looked at it with no recognition as if he had no idea what to do with it. He probably didn’t.

“I can put it on you then. Hold out your arms.” Maddie instructed.

The boy, the clone, (this was a clone, a clone of her son. Her son. How? Why? What?). The clone did as she said and the woman dressed him as if he was a little child. (He probably was). The woman tried to smile comfortingly as she fastened the buttons. “There you go. All covered up.”

The boy looked at the sleeves curiously. They hung past his hands as the garment swallowed him. He waved his arms, watching the ends flap. The child laughed at the sight.

Maddie’s heart clenched at the child-like display. But then she turned her attention to the AI that had been silently watching the entire time. Standing, she scowled. “Is he a clone of my son?”

“Yes.” The MADDIE program replied. “Subject Number 6 is a clone of Daniel James Fenton.”

Maddie looked down again. Somehow, despite how impossible this was, that made perfect sense. The appearance was nearly identical, to perfect for strangers. And….she swallowed. Vlad had a sick fascination with her children, with Danny in particular. She knew the man fancied himself something of a godfather, with his pet names, presents, and advice. And Danny despised it, much more than any teenage boy should even if said godfather had a tendency to flirt with his mother.

The woman paled, all sorts of horrible idea coming into her head. What Vlad must want from Danny, what he must really want from her son. And to do the scientifically impossible? She shivered. Tests, experiments. She remembered the hybrid ghostly appearance, the ectoenergy flowing off of him. From some the ghostly disease? But… “Wait...you said that he was clone of Phantom earlier?”

The hologram’s response was cut off by a scream from the floor. Maddie’s eyes flicked down panickedly as the clone looked up at her. “My...my arm...it’s gone.”

The woman’s eyes just about popped out of her skull. His left sleeve with the hand and arm inside of it were gone. Maddie knelt down, reaching towards where the limb should be. Her hand hit something solid and chilly. She rapidly blinked. “It’s invisible. Your arm is invisible.” Panic rose in her. Ghostly abilities. There were ghostly abilities. He had ghost powers.

“Invisible?!” The boy shrieked. 

Maddie’s heart clenched. That sounded just like Danny, her son when he was scared. The boy’s mouth was open with panic, his breath increasing. And all the woman could see was her son. Her son’s face, screwed up with panic and fear. It made her soul ache. She gently wrapped her hand around his invisible one. “It’s still there but you need to calm down. Breath with me. Like before. Okay. In and out.”

The boy copied her action once and his hand returned to visibility. He threw himself forward into her arms. Maddie returned the hug without hesitation. Then a breath later, cold swept over her. The body in her arms disappeared, turning into cold mist. Both the woman and the boy screamed as he turned intangible and fell through her.

Maddie rapidly stood, stepping back. What was happening?! On the floor, the boy returned to solidity, the slightly translucent appearance disappearing. He rolled onto his back, panting. The beeping of the monitor increased with his breathing as his face scrunched up fearfully. 

Then a heartbeat later, just when Maddie thought she was done with surprises for tonight, something else stole the breath from her lungs. A white ring of light formed around the boy’s waist. It spread up and down his body and everything the light touched changed. The scientist blinked away the spots in her vision. And there, writhing on the floor with a panicked expression, was Phantom. Or...he looked like Phantom. White hair, black and white jumpsuit, panic filled green eyes.

It suddenly all hit Maddie like a tractor-trailer. He was a clone of Danny.. .and he was a clone of Phantom. Of Phantom. Danny...it clicked into place. Oh god, Danny’s accident with the portal. Him setting off all their equipment. His badly hidden injuries. Falling grades, skipping class, not sleeping. Oh god. Danny was Phantom. Danny Fenton was Danny Phantom. That...that was a pun, damnit. Of course her son would name himself after a pun. And… her eyes fixed on the boy on the floor. His face even stayed the same! No wonder Phantom avoided getting close to them!

In front of her, the clone was hyperventilating again. “What’s happening to me?!” He cried, tears welling in his eyes. His legs were fused into a ghostly tail which lashed in front of him.

The mother’s brain kicked into gear, her motherly instincts taking over again. She knelt down. “Sweetie. Sweetie. Calm down. I’m here.” 

She grabbed his arm, intending to pull him into a sitting position but he was so light, as light as a balloon. With the slightest tug, he was pulled into the air, floated. Maddie pulled the ghost boy into her arms. She cupped the back of his head.

“What’s...what’s happening to me?” He cried again.

“I don’t know.” Maddie answered honestly. She had only the barest idea of what all was going on. But still... “I’ll figure it out. I’ll help you. You’re safe. I’m right here.”

The boy wiggled in her hold, crying into her shoulders. “I...I don’t understand. I don’t understand. Who...who am I? Who are you? Where are we?”

Maddie didn’t know. Or rather she didn't know how to answer those questions without making him more scared. She desperately wished she did know. She’d have to have a long conversation with Danny about him being Phantom and about what is actually going on between him and Vlad but for now...she hugged the boy tighter.

A long minute later, light passed over the clone again. He became heavy and warm in Maddie’s arms. His knees wobbled for a moment before steadying as Maddie held him up. “There, you’re doing it. You can stand.” His posture strengthened and the shaking stopped. Finally, the mother asked. “Do you think you can stand on your own?”

“I...I think so?” The boy said, uncertainly.

“Alright. I’m going to step away slowly. I’ll catch you if you start to fall.” Maddie reassured.

The child nodded as the woman backed away. He wobbled, tipping forward but the ghost hunter gently grabbed him. They stood, hands on each other's forearm for a long pause, until the boy steadied himself. He looked down at his feet, lifting one before putting it down and then doing the same with the opposite. Finally, he let go of Maddie’s arms. After hesitating, the mother did the same.

The boy studied her compassionate face, brow furrowed with deep thought. “Who are you...to me?”

Maddie considered, studying his face in kind. Her son’s face. A face so like her Danny’s. He was a clone, a clone of her son. Meaning...he was her own flesh and blood. Her lips pursed in thought. More importantly...he was a child. A confused, scared child who needed her help. And before she was a ghost hunter and scientist, Maddie was and would always be a mother.

“I’m your mother.” She said without hesitation, smiling. “Your mom.”

“Mom?” The boy asked, testing out the word. 

Maddie nodded, reaching forward and gently whipping one of his tears away with her thumb. “I’m your mom.”

The child smiled, his eyes lighting up like that was the most wonderful thing he had ever heard. It very well could be. “Mom.” The word rang out with so many emotions, with some much love that Maddie’s heart swelled. The boy stepped forward hugging her again.

The mother ran her finger through his hair. “Yes baby. I’m here to take you home."

“You will take him away from here, then?” A staticy voice asked, beside the pair.

Maddie turned, pulling away to look at the AI. Beside her, the clone tilted his head as he looked between the two but didn’t ask.

The scientist nodded. “Yes. I think I understand why you called me now.” Of course she did. This was an AI made to copy her, something of a digital clone. If Maddie was in her place, she would not so easily agree to whatever Vlad had planned. She would not leave a child here to be experimented on. And as the MADDIE programs 'original’, for lack of a better word, she wasn’t exactly an outsider and therefore a loophole.

The hologram nodded. “I will disable the microchip then.” A light on the monitor blinked out and the beeping of the heart monitor stopped. The AI then turned to the computer. She pointed to a flash drive plugged into one of the ports. “That contains all research data. Take it with you.” 

Maddie obeyed, taking the drive. The AI winked. “Excellent. Delete all research data. Command alpha-06-gamma-58-epsilon.”

There was a loud dial tone and the computer fritzed, the monitor wavering until a blue screen reading ‘System Deletion’ in large print was displayed.

Maddie raised a brow, impressed at the AI. 

Then the clone asked. “What about you? Are you coming with us?”

The program shook her head. “No dear. I am not like you. My purpose is served.” The AI turned to deliberately look at Maddie. “Number 6 has been saved.”

The boy frowned at the statement as did the mother, considering the statement and the depth of it. She didn’t know what to make of it except...it almost felt like one mother was handing off her son to another.

“Go on.” The MADDIE program encouraged. "You may go out the way you came and I will lock the doors behind you." She frowned. "I will distract dearest for as long as I can."

Maddie wrinkled her nose in disgust. "I suppose you can't just call him Vlad?"

"No." The AI almost sounded annoyed. "My programming is most inconvenient."

The ghost hunter nodded in understanding. Then she turned to face the clone. "Come on then sweetie." She wrapped one arm around the boy and started leading him towards the door. Before passing through, the women turned back to face the hologram. "Thank you."

The corner of MADDIE program's lip turned up as she offered an accepting nod. The pair then turned back towards the still open door. The clone wobbled slightly, progressing slowly as he gained more confidence. Maddie carefully stepped across the threshold with the boy still at her side. Once they were in the tunnel, a gap sounded from beside her.

"What is it?" The mother glanced to the side, eyes wide with concern.

"The ground's cold." The boy muttered.

"Oh." Maddie looked down. "You're not wearing any shoes." She'd have to get him some once they got home and some proper clothes. "Just step carefully, okay? Actually…." With her free hand, she pulled out her flashlight and shone it on the bare ground in front of them. "There." 

The pair advanced carefully, Maddie helping the boy to clumsily climb up the ladder. They crossed the greenhouse and the mother pulled the boy along as he eagerly studied their surroundings. 

"It smells nice in here." The clone commented, sniffing the air.

"It does." Maddie agreed. 

Arriving at the door, she finally opened it and the two found themselves in the open air. The boy suddenly stopped, looking down. 

He hummed in the back of his throat, pleased. "I like the grass under my feet." Maddie looked down to find the kid wiggling his toes. Then there was an awed whisper. "Wow. Are those the stars?"

The mother looked up again to find him staring up at the sky in wonder. Maddie smiled. "Yes, they are. Aren't they beautiful?"

"Yeah." He breathed.

Maddie let him look up in awe, as she herself marveled. She couldn't help but be reminded of Danny's love of the stars. But even with the resemblance, he was a different person from her Danny, wasn't he? She could already see little difference. This child-like wonder was something she hadn’t seen in her son very often now. But still she wondered. This clone seemed to know the words for things. He could speak clearly and had good coordination all things considered. How was that even remotely possible? And yet he still had the air of someone who had never seen the world before, like every was new. Because it likely was.

With that, Maddie cut off her musing. "Come on sweetie. We need to keep going."

The mother hated cutting off his exploration, especially as his expression fell. But the boy nodded anyway, taking a step forward. The pair continued, cutting across the yard, into the trees, and to the car. Maddie clicked the fob to unlock the vehicle. She guided the boy to the car, opened the passenger's side door, and helped him sit. The mother then walked around and opened the driver's side door and sat down herself.

Maddie turned to find the clone looking at his seat belt curiously. She reached over. "Here let me help you." She buckled him in.

The boy hummed, fidgeting in his seat while Maddie buckled herself in. She put the key in the ignition and started the engine. Instantly, the radio started, a song from their local eighties station broadcasting through. The clone flinched at the sudden sound before relaxing. 

He turned, looking at the woman with wide eyes. "What's that?"

Maddie smiled. "It's music."

"Right. Music." The boy nodded. He tilted his head, listening to the song. After a moment, his head bobbed in time. "I think I like music." He hummed along, wiggling in his seat.

It made Maddie want to laugh so she did. She chuckled as she put the car into drive and pulled away. She turned into the road and started driving back towards Fentonworks. The song ended just as they pulled up at a red light.

The clone turned to face her. "Where are we going?"

She looked at him out the corner of her eye. "We're going home, like I said earlier."

He nodded. "Right yeah. I remember that." He hummed. "What will we do when we get there?"

Maddie paused, considering the question. "Well...we’ll talk to your dad and your….Danny and Jazz….and we’ll figure all of this out.” 

She’d hesitated for a moment, thinking to refer to Danny and Jazz as his brother and sister. But Maddie had no idea how they’d take this. Hopefully well. Those two were good kids but living with a clone of yourself….Maddie could hardly imagine. At least Jack would be eager and welcoming. She knew her husband well enough to be sure….Oh boy, she really should have told him something about all of this before she’d left.

"All of this….you mean the….clone thing and…" He bit his lip. "The flashing light and the floating and disappearing and falling through things?"

"Ghost powers." Maddie said, brow furrowing. "You have ghost powers. As far as I can tell, you're some kind of ghost human hybrid? Not that I knew that was possible until less than an hour ago…." She frowned. "Nor did I know you existed."

The boy frowned, looking worried. His lips pursed. "So...you don't know what my name is then, do you?”

Maddie's heart fell. In front of them, the light turned green. The woman turned back, removing her foot off the gas. The car pulled away before the mother pulled into a parking lot. 

She took a deep breath, the impossibleness of the situation hitting her. She was sitting in her car with a clone of her son. A clone that she’d found in the secret laboratory below Vlad Master’s greenhouse. A human-ghost hybrid clone of her son who was also a hybrid. She had another son now. A son who she now had to tell that she didn't know his name, because he likely didn't have one yet.

Maddie put a comforting hand on his arm. “I’m sorry.” She gently apologized. “You’re right. I don’t know. And sadly….” She took a deep breath. “And I know this will be hard to hear but...all I know is that hologram called you Number 6 and...that’s not exactly a name, is it? ” 

His lip quivered, eyes starting to water. “But….that’s….”

The mother took his hands and squeezed it. “That will change. Your father and I can pick out a name for you; that’s what parents normally do for their children. Or….if you have something in mind, we’ll happily call you that.”

The clone looked down, biting his lip in consideration. “I’ll...I’ll think about it.”

Maddie’s face softened. “Alright sweetie.”

He turned his head up, blinking at her. “Sweetie? Can that be my name?”

The question was asked so innocently that Maddie couldn’t help but laugh. “No. That’s a pet name. I call all my kids that.”

“Oh.” He blushed in embarrassment. “Well that’s...at least, that means I’m one of your kids.”

The mother nodded her head. “Yes, of course. You’re my son.” It should have been surprising how much her heart swelled with love at the statement but well….Maddie had made up her mind. This was her son. Not Vlad Masters’ experiment. Not just Danny’s clone. Her son and Vlad was not taking him away from her.

They would have a lot to figure out. A name for this boy. His complete origin as a clone. How to deal with having a third child, one who’d just appeared overnight. They’d have to deal with the implications of her revelation that Danny was Phantom. And Vlad...what he’d done was horrible. He’d stolen blueprints and her son’s DNA. He’d experimented on a human or...humans. She internally frowned; he was clone number 6. Did that mean that there had been five others? 

Either way, Vlad was deplorable. There, in the depth of his lab, below something as innocuous and normal as his greenhouse, Maddie had discovered that and the true depth of his obsession with her and her family. And now she knew, Vlad needed to be stopped. He needed to be punished. But what exactly to do with him, considering how taking him down would likely expose Danny’s identity as Phantom? Yes, they had a lot to deal with but….

Maddie leaned forward to kiss her new son’s forehead. “You have a family now. And a home. And everything else we’ll figure out together.”

A soft smile crept across his face. “I like how that sounds.”

“Good.” Maddie smiled. “Now...are you ready to go meet the rest of your family?”

“Yeah.” He squeezed the hand still holding hers. “I’m ready Mom.”

[blackwoolncrown]

”This essay has been kicking around in my head for years now and I’ve never felt confident enough to write it. It’s a time in my life I’m ashamed of. It’s a time that I hurt people and, through inaction, allowed others to be hurt. It’s a time that I acted as a violent agent of capitalism and white supremacy. Under the guise of public safety, I personally ruined people’s lives but in so doing, made the public no safer… so did the family members and close friends of mine who also bore the badge alongside me.

But enough is enough.

The reforms aren’t working. Incrementalism isn’t happening. Unarmed Black, indigenous, and people of color are being killed by cops in the streets and the police are savagely attacking the people protesting these murders.

American policing is a thick blue tumor strangling the life from our communities and if you don’t believe it when the poor and the marginalized say it, if you don’t believe it when you see cops across the country shooting journalists with less-lethal bullets and caustic chemicals, maybe you’ll believe it when you hear it straight from the pig’s mouth.”

>>Copied here in case anyone gets paywalled when they click the above. The full article is...a lot.<<

WHY AM I WRITING THIS

As someone who went through the training, hiring, and socialization of a career in law enforcement, I wanted to give a first-hand account of why I believe police officers are the way they are. Not to excuse their behavior, but to explain it and to indict the structures that perpetuate it.

I believe that if everyone understood how we’re trained and brought up in the profession, it would inform the demands our communities should be making of a new way of community safety. If I tell you how we were made, I hope it will empower you to unmake us.

One of the other reasons I’ve struggled to write this essay is that I don’t want to center the conversation on myself and my big salty boo-hoo feelings about my bad choices. It’s a toxic white impulse to see atrocities and think “How can I make this about me?” So, I hope you’ll take me at my word that this account isn’t meant to highlight me, but rather the hundred thousand of me in every city in the country. It’s about the structure that made me (that I chose to pollute myself with) and it’s my meager contribution to the cause of radical justice.

YES, ALL COPS ARE BASTARDS

I was a police officer in a major metropolitan area in California with a predominantly poor, non-white population (with a large proportion of first-generation immigrants). One night during briefing, our watch commander told us that the city council had requested a new zero tolerance policy. Against murderers, drug dealers, or child predators?

No, against homeless people collecting cans from recycling bins.

See, the city had some kickback deal with the waste management company where waste management got paid by the government for our expected tonnage of recycling. When homeless people “stole” that recycling from the waste management company, they were putting that cheaper contract in peril. So, we were to arrest as many recyclers as we could find.

Even for me, this was a stupid policy and I promptly blew Sarge off. But a few hours later, Sarge called me over to assist him. He was detaining a 70 year old immigrant who spoke no English, who he’d seen picking a coke can out of a trash bin. He ordered me to arrest her for stealing trash. I said, “Sarge, c’mon, she’s an old lady.” He said, “I don’t give a shit. Hook her up, that’s an order.” And… I did. She cried the entire way to the station and all through the booking process. I couldn’t even comfort her because I didn’t speak Spanish. I felt disgusting but I was ordered to make this arrest and I wasn’t willing to lose my job for her.

If you’re tempted to feel sympathy for me, don’t. I used to happily hassle the homeless under other circumstances. I researched obscure penal codes so I could arrest people in homeless encampments for lesser known crimes like “remaining too close to railroad property” (369i of the California Penal Code). I used to call it “planting warrant seeds” since I knew they wouldn’t make their court dates and we could arrest them again and again for warrant violations.

We used to have informal contests for who could cite or arrest someone for the weirdest law. DUI on a bicycle, non-regulation number of brooms on your tow truck (27700(a)(1) of the California Vehicle Code)… shit like that. For me, police work was a logic puzzle for arresting people, regardless of their actual threat to the community. As ashamed as I am to admit it, it needs to be said: stripping people of their freedom felt like a game to me for many years.

I know what you’re going to ask: did I ever plant drugs? Did I ever plant a gun on someone? Did I ever make a false arrest or file a false report? Believe it or not, the answer is no. Cheating was no fun, I liked to get my stats the “legitimate” way. But I knew officers who kept a little baggie of whatever or maybe a pocket knife that was a little too big in their war bags (yeah, we called our dufflebags “war bags”…). Did I ever tell anybody about it? No I did not. Did I ever confess my suspicions when cocaine suddenly showed up in a gang member’s jacket? No I did not.

In fact, let me tell you about an extremely formative experience: in my police academy class, we had a clique of around six trainees who routinely bullied and harassed other students: intentionally scuffing another trainee’s shoes to get them in trouble during inspection, sexually harassing female trainees, cracking racist jokes, and so on. Every quarter, we were to write anonymous evaluations of our squadmates. I wrote scathing accounts of their behavior, thinking I was helping keep bad apples out of law enforcement and believing I would be protected. Instead, the academy staff read my complaints to them out loud and outed me to them and never punished them, causing me to get harassed for the rest of my academy class. That’s how I learned that even police leadership hates rats. That’s why no one is “changing things from the inside.” They can’t, the structure won’t allow it.

And that’s the point of what I’m telling you. Whether you were my sergeant, legally harassing an old woman, me, legally harassing our residents, my fellow trainees bullying the rest of us, or “the bad apples” illegally harassing “shitbags”, we were all in it together. I knew cops that pulled women over to flirt with them. I knew cops who would pepper spray sleeping bags so that homeless people would have to throw them away. I knew cops that intentionally provoked anger in suspects so they could claim they were assaulted. I was particularly good at winding people up verbally until they lashed out so I could fight them. Nobody spoke out. Nobody stood up. Nobody betrayed the code.

None of us protected the people (you) from bad cops.

This is why “All cops are bastards.” Even your uncle, even your cousin, even your mom, even your brother, even your best friend, even your spouse, even me. Because even if they wouldn’t Do The Thing themselves, they will almost never rat out another officer who Does The Thing, much less stop it from happening.

BASTARD 101

I could write an entire book of the awful things I’ve done, seen done, and heard others bragging about doing. But, to me, the bigger question is “How did it get this way?”. While I was a police officer in a city 30 miles from where I lived, many of my fellow officers were from the community and treated their neighbors just as badly as I did. While every cop’s individual biases come into play, it’s the profession itself that is toxic, and it starts from day 1 of training.

Every police academy is different but all of them share certain features: taught by old cops, run like a paramilitary bootcamp, strong emphasis on protecting yourself more than anyone else. The majority of my time in the academy was spent doing aggressive physical training and watching video after video after video of police officers being murdered on duty.

I want to highlight this: nearly everyone coming into law enforcement is bombarded with dash cam footage of police officers being ambushed and killed. Over and over and over. Colorless VHS mortality plays, cops screaming for help over their radios, their bodies going limp as a pair of tail lights speed away into a grainy black horizon. In my case, with commentary from an old racist cop who used to brag about assaulting Black Panthers.

To understand why all cops are bastards, you need to understand one of the things almost every training officer told me when it came to using force:

“I’d rather be judged by 12 than carried by 6.”

Meaning, “I’ll take my chances in court rather than risk getting hurt”. We’re able to think that way because police unions are extremely overpowered and because of the generous concept of Qualified Immunity, a legal theory which says a cop generally can’t be held personally liable for mistakes they make doing their job in an official capacity.

When you look at the actions of the officers who killed George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, David McAtee, Mike Brown, Tamir Rice, Philando Castile, Eric Garner, or Freddie Gray, remember that they, like me, were trained to recite “I’d rather be judged by 12” as a mantra. Even if Mistakes Were Made™, the city (meaning the taxpayers, meaning you) pays the settlement, not the officer.

Once police training has - through repetition, indoctrination, and violent spectacle - promised officers that everyone in the world is out to kill them, the next lesson is that your partners are the only people protecting you. Occasionally, this is even true: I’ve had encounters turn on me rapidly to the point I legitimately thought I was going to die, only to have other officers come and turn the tables.

One of the most important thought leaders in law enforcement is Col. Dave Grossman, a “killologist” who wrote an essay called “Sheep, Wolves, and Sheepdogs”. Cops are the sheepdogs, bad guys are the wolves, and the citizens are the sheep (!). Col. Grossman makes sure to mention that to a stupid sheep, sheepdogs look more like wolves than sheep, and that’s why they dislike you.

This “they hate you for protecting them and only I love you, only I can protect you” tactic is familiar to students of abuse. It’s what abusers do to coerce their victims into isolation, pulling them away from friends and family and ensnaring them in the abuser’s toxic web. Law enforcement does this too, pitting the officer against civilians. “They don’t understand what you do, they don’t respect your sacrifice, they just want to get away with crimes. You’re only safe with us.”

I think the Wolves vs. Sheepdogs dynamic is one of the most important elements as to why officers behave the way they do. Every single second of my training, I was told that criminals were not a legitimate part of their community, that they were individual bad actors, and that their bad actions were solely the result of their inherent criminality. Any concept of systemic trauma, generational poverty, or white supremacist oppression was either never mentioned or simply dismissed. After all, most people don’t steal, so anyone who does isn’t “most people,” right? To us, anyone committing a crime deserved anything that happened to them because they broke the “social contract.” And yet, it was never even a question as to whether the power structure above them was honoring any sort of contract back.

Understand: Police officers are part of the state monopoly on violence and all police training reinforces this monopoly as a cornerstone of police work, a source of honor and pride. Many cops fantasize about getting to kill someone in the line of duty, egged on by others that have. One of my training officers told me about the time he shot and killed a mentally ill homeless man wielding a big stick. He bragged that he “slept like a baby” that night. Official training teaches you how to be violent effectively and when you’re legally allowed to deploy that violence, but “unofficial training” teaches you to desire violence, to expand the breadth of your violence without getting caught, and to erode your own compassion for desperate people so you can justify punitive violence against them.

HOW TO BE A BASTARD

I have participated in some of these activities personally, others are ones I either witnessed personally or heard officers brag about openly. Very, very occasionally, I knew an officer who was disciplined or fired for one of these things.

Police officers will lie about the law, about what’s illegal, or about what they can legally do to you in order to manipulate you into doing what they want.

Police officers will lie about feeling afraid for their life to justify a use of force after the fact.

Police officers will lie and tell you they’ll file a police report just to get you off their back.

Police officers will lie that your cooperation will “look good for you” in court, or that they will “put in a good word for you with the DA.” The police will never help you look good in court.

Police officers will lie about what they see and hear to access private property to conduct unlawful searches.

Police officers will lie and say your friend already ratted you out, so you might as well rat them back out. This is almost never true.

Police officers will lie and say you’re not in trouble in order to get you to exit a location or otherwise make an arrest more convenient for them.

Police officers will lie and say that they won’t arrest you if you’ll just “be honest with them” so they know what really happened.

Police officers will lie about their ability to seize the property of friends and family members to coerce a confession.

Police officers will write obviously bullshit tickets so that they get time-and-a-half overtime fighting them in court.

Police officers will search places and containers you didn’t consent to and later claim they were open or “smelled like marijuana”.

Police officers will threaten you with a more serious crime they can’t prove in order to convince you to confess to the lesser crime they really want you for.

Police officers will employ zero tolerance on races and ethnicities they dislike and show favor and lenience to members of their own group.

Police officers will use intentionally extra-painful maneuvers and holds during an arrest to provoke “resistance” so they can further assault the suspect.

Some police officers will plant drugs and weapons on you, sometimes to teach you a lesson, sometimes if they kill you somewhere away from public view.

Some police officers will assault you to intimidate you and threaten to arrest you if you tell anyone.

A non-trivial number of police officers will steal from your house or vehicle during a search.

A non-trivial number of police officers commit intimate partner violence and use their status to get away with it.

A non-trivial number of police officers use their position to entice, coerce, or force sexual favors from vulnerable people.

If you take nothing else away from this essay, I want you to tattoo this onto your brain forever: if a police officer is telling you something, it is probably a lie designed to gain your compliance.

Do not talk to cops and never, ever believe them. Do not “try to be helpful” with cops. Do not assume they are trying to catch someone else instead of you. Do not assume what they are doing is “important” or even legal. Under no circumstances assume any police officer is acting in good faith.

Also, and this is important, do not talk to cops.

I just remembered something, do not talk to cops.

Checking my notes real quick, something jumped out at me:

Do

not

fucking

talk

to

cops.

Ever.

Say, “I don’t answer questions,” and ask if you’re free to leave; if so, leave. If not, tell them you want your lawyer and that, per the Supreme Court, they must terminate questioning. If they don’t, file a complaint and collect some badges for your mantle.

DO THE BASTARDS EVER HELP?

Reading the above, you may be tempted to ask whether cops ever do anything good. And the answer is, sure, sometimes. In fact, most officers I worked with thought they were usually helping the helpless and protecting the safety of innocent people.

During my tenure in law enforcement, I protected women from domestic abusers, arrested cold-blooded murderers and child molesters, and comforted families who lost children to car accidents and other tragedies. I helped connect struggling people in my community with local resources for food, shelter, and counseling. I deescalated situations that could have turned violent and talked a lot of people down from making the biggest mistake of their lives. I worked with plenty of officers who were individually kind, bought food for homeless residents, or otherwise showed care for their community.

The question is this: did I need a gun and sweeping police powers to help the average person on the average night? The answer is no. When I was doing my best work as a cop, I was doing mediocre work as a therapist or a social worker. My good deeds were listening to people failed by the system and trying to unite them with any crumbs of resources the structure was currently denying them.

It’s also important to note that well over 90% of the calls for service I handled were reactive, showing up well after a crime had taken place. We would arrive, take a statement, collect evidence (if any), file the report, and onto the next caper. Most “active” crimes we stopped were someone harmless possessing or selling a small amount of drugs. Very, very rarely would we stop something dangerous in progress or stop something from happening entirely. The closest we could usually get was seeing someone running away from the scene of a crime, but the damage was still done.

And consider this: my job as a police officer required me to be a marriage counselor, a mental health crisis professional, a conflict negotiator, a social worker, a child advocate, a traffic safety expert, a sexual assault specialist, and, every once in awhile, a public safety officer authorized to use force, all after only a 1000 hours of training at a police academy. Does the person we send to catch a robber also need to be the person we send to interview a rape victim or document a fender bender? Should one profession be expected to do all that important community care (with very little training) all at the same time?

To put this another way: I made double the salary most social workers made to do a fraction of what they could do to mitigate the causes of crimes and desperation. I can count very few times my monopoly on state violence actually made our citizens safer, and even then, it’s hard to say better-funded social safety nets and dozens of other community care specialists wouldn’t have prevented a problem before it started.

Armed, indoctrinated (and dare I say, traumatized) cops do not make you safer; community mutual aid networks who can unite other people with the resources they need to stay fed, clothed, and housed make you safer. I really want to hammer this home: every cop in your neighborhood is damaged by their training, emboldened by their immunity, and they have a gun and the ability to take your life with near-impunity. This does not make you safer, even if you’re white.

HOW DO YOU SOLVE A PROBLEM LIKE A BASTARD?

So what do we do about it? Even though I’m an expert on bastardism, I am not a public policy expert nor an expert in organizing a post-police society. So, before I give some suggestions, let me tell you what probably won’t solve the problem of bastard cops:

Increased “bias” training. A quarterly or even monthly training session is not capable of covering over years of trauma-based camaraderie in police forces. I can tell you from experience, we don’t take it seriously, the proctors let us cheat on whatever “tests” there are, and we all made fun of it later over coffee.

Tougher laws. I hope you understand by now, cops do not follow the law and will not hold each other accountable to the law. Tougher laws are all the more reason to circle the wagons and protect your brothers and sisters.

More community policing programs. Yes, there is a marginal effect when a few cops get to know members of the community, but look at the protests of 2020: many of the cops pepper-spraying journalists were probably the nice school cop a month ago.

Police officers do not protect and serve people, they protect and serve the status quo, “polite society”, and private property. Using the incremental mechanisms of the status quo will never reform the police because the status quo relies on police violence to exist. Capitalism requires a permanent underclass to exploit for cheap labor and it requires the cops to bring that underclass to heel.

Instead of wasting time with minor tweaks, I recommend exploring the following ideas:

No more qualified immunity. Police officers should be personally liable for all decisions they make in the line of duty.

No more civil asset forfeiture. Did you know that every year, citizens like you lose more cash and property to unaccountable civil asset forfeiture than to all burglaries combined? The police can steal your stuff without charging you with a crime and it makes some police departments very rich.

Break the power of police unions. Police unions make it nearly impossible to fire bad cops and incentivize protecting them to protect the power of the union. A police union is not a labor union; police officers are powerful state agents, not exploited workers.

Require malpractice insurance. Doctors must pay for insurance in case they botch a surgery, police officers should do the same for botching a police raid or other use of force. If human decency won’t motivate police to respect human life, perhaps hitting their wallet might.

Defund, demilitarize, and disarm cops. Thousands of police departments own assault rifles, armored personnel carriers, and stuff you’d see in a warzone. Police officers have grants and huge budgets to spend on guns, ammo, body armor, and combat training. 99% of calls for service require no armed response, yet when all you have is a gun, every problem feels like target practice. Cities are not safer when unaccountable bullies have a monopoly on state violence and the equipment to execute that monopoly.

One final idea: consider abolishing the police.

I know what you’re thinking, “What? We need the police! They protect us!” As someone who did it for nearly a decade, I need you to understand that by and large, police protection is marginal, incidental. It’s an illusion created by decades of copaganda designed to fool you into thinking these brave men and women are holding back the barbarians at the gates.

I alluded to this above: the vast majority of calls for service I handled were theft reports, burglary reports, domestic arguments that hadn’t escalated into violence, loud parties, (houseless) people loitering, traffic collisions, very minor drug possession, and arguments between neighbors. Mostly the mundane ups and downs of life in the community, with little inherent danger. And, like I mentioned, the vast majority of crimes I responded to (even violent ones) had already happened; my unaccountable license to kill was irrelevant.

What I mainly provided was an “objective” third party with the authority to document property damage, ask people to chill out or disperse, or counsel people not to beat each other up. A trained counselor or conflict resolution specialist would be ten times more effective than someone with a gun strapped to his hip wondering if anyone would try to kill him when he showed up. There are many models for community safety that can be explored if we get away from the idea that the only way to be safe is to have a man with a M4 rifle prowling your neighborhood ready at a moment’s notice to write down your name and birthday after you’ve been robbed and beaten.

You might be asking, “What about the armed robbers, the gangsters, the drug dealers, the serial killers?” And yes, in the city I worked, I regularly broke up gang parties, found gang members carrying guns, and handled homicides. I’ve seen some tragic things, from a reformed gangster shot in the head with his brains oozing out to a fifteen year old boy taking his last breath in his screaming mother’s arms thanks to a gang member’s bullet. I know the wages of violence.

This is where we have to have the courage to ask: why do people rob? Why do they join gangs? Why do they get addicted to drugs or sell them? It’s not because they are inherently evil. I submit to you that these are the results of living in a capitalist system that grinds people down and denies them housing, medical care, human dignity, and a say in their government. These are the results of white supremacy pushing people to the margins, excluding them, disrespecting them, and treating their bodies as disposable.

Equally important to remember: disabled and mentally ill people are frequently killed by police officers not trained to recognize and react to disabilities or mental health crises. Some of the people we picture as “violent offenders” are often people struggling with untreated mental illness, often due to economic hardships. Very frequently, the officers sent to “protect the community” escalate this crisis and ultimately wound or kill the person. Your community was not made safer by police violence; a sick member of your community was killed because it was cheaper than treating them. Are you extremely confident you’ll never get sick one day too?

Wrestle with this for a minute: if all of someone’s material needs were met and all the members of their community were fed, clothed, housed, and dignified, why would they need to join a gang? Why would they need to risk their lives selling drugs or breaking into buildings? If mental healthcare was free and was not stigmatized, how many lives would that save?

Would there still be a few bad actors in the world? Sure, probably. What’s my solution for them, you’re no doubt asking. I’ll tell you what: generational poverty, food insecurity, houselessness, and for-profit medical care are all problems that can be solved in our lifetimes by rejecting the dehumanizing meat grinder of capitalism and white supremacy. Once that’s done, we can work on the edge cases together, with clearer hearts not clouded by a corrupt system.

Police abolition is closely related to the idea of prison abolition and the entire concept of banishing the carceral state, meaning, creating a society focused on reconciliation and restorative justice instead of punishment, pain, and suffering — a system that sees people in crisis as humans, not monsters. People who want to abolish the police typically also want to abolish prisons, and the same questions get asked: “What about the bad guys? Where do we put them?” I bring this up because abolitionists don’t want to simply replace cops with armed social workers or prisons with casual detention centers full of puffy leather couches and Playstations. We imagine a world not divided into good guys and bad guys, but rather a world where people’s needs are met and those in crisis receive care, not dehumanization.

Here’s legendary activist and thinker Angela Y. Davis putting it better than I ever could:

“An abolitionist approach that seeks to answer questions such as these would require us to imagine a constellation of alternative strategies and institutions, with the ultimate aim of removing the prison from the social and ideological landscapes of our society. In other words, we would not be looking for prisonlike substitutes for the prison, such as house arrest safeguarded by electronic surveillance bracelets. Rather, positing decarceration as our overarching strategy, we would try to envision a continuum of alternatives to imprisonment-demilitarization of schools, revitalization of education at all levels, a health system that provides free physical and mental care to all, and a justice system based on reparation and reconciliation rather than retribution and vengeance.”

(Are Prisons Obsolete, pg. 107)

I’m not telling you I have the blueprint for a beautiful new world. What I’m telling you is that the system we have right now is broken beyond repair and that it’s time to consider new ways of doing community together. Those new ways need to be negotiated by members of those communities, particularly Black, indigenous, disabled, houseless, and citizens of color historically shoved into the margins of society. Instead of letting Fox News fill your head with nightmares about Hispanic gangs, ask the Hispanic community what they need to thrive. Instead of letting racist politicians scaremonger about pro-Black demonstrators, ask the Black community what they need to meet the needs of the most vulnerable. If you truly desire safety, ask not what your most vulnerable can do for the community, ask what the community can do for the most vulnerable.

A WORLD WITH FEWER BASTARDS IS POSSIBLE

If you take only one thing away from this essay, I hope it’s this: do not talk to cops. But if you only take two things away, I hope the second one is that it’s possible to imagine a different world where unarmed black people, indigenous people, poor people, disabled people, and people of color are not routinely gunned down by unaccountable police officers. It doesn’t have to be this way. Yes, this requires a leap of faith into community models that might feel unfamiliar, but I ask you:

When you see a man dying in the street begging for breath, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a mother or a daughter shot to death sleeping in their beds, don’t you want to leap away from that world?

When you see a twelve year old boy executed in a public park for the crime of playing with a toy, jesus fucking christ, can you really just stand there and think “This is normal”?

And to any cops who made it this far down, is this really the world you want to live in? Aren’t you tired of the trauma? Aren’t you tired of the soul sickness inherent to the badge? Aren’t you tired of looking the other way when your partners break the law? Are you really willing to kill the next George Floyd, the next Breonna Taylor, the next Tamir Rice? How confident are you that your next use of force will be something you’re proud of? I’m writing this for you too: it’s wrong what our training did to us, it’s wrong that they hardened our hearts to our communities, and it’s wrong to pretend this is normal.

Look, I wouldn’t have been able to hear any of this for much of my life. You reading this now may not be able to hear this yet either. But do me this one favor: just think about it. Just turn it over in your mind for a couple minutes. “Yes, And” me for a minute. Look around you and think about the kind of world you want to live in. Is it one where an all-powerful stranger with a gun keeps you and your neighbors in line with the fear of death, or can you picture a world where, as a community, we embrace our most vulnerable, meet their needs, heal their wounds, honor their dignity, and make them family instead of desperate outsiders?

If you take only three things away from this essay, I hope the third is this: you and your community don’t need bastards to thrive.

RESOURCES TO YES-AND WITH

Achele Mbembe — Necropolitics

Angela Y. Davis — Are Prisons Obsolete?

CriticalResistance.org — Abolition Toolkit

Joe Macaré, Maya Schenwar, and Alana Yu-lan Price — Who Do You Serve, Who Do You Protect?

Ruth Wilson Gilmore — COVID-19, Decarceration, Abolition [video]

[heniareth]

I was really curious about what your opinions on the DAO companions are :) I know we have talked about some, but I'd love to hear more and about the others as well :D I hope it's ok to pose this as an ask :)

Sure! That sounds like a ton of fun. This might be a long one tho. Mind you, this is not the finished version of the answer. I'd like to link stuff and add a cut, but rn that's not possible. I'll update it when I can.

Edit: I have updated it ^^

Let's go alphabetically bc why not.

Alistair:

Sweet guy. So sweet. There was a moment when I was hard pressed chosing between him and Zevran (alas, Zevran won). Also, he's weirdly tall according to the wiki? How did I not notice that before?

Let's get a bit more serious now, Alistair is a great guy. The only reason he's not the hero of the story is because he doesn't want to. He has all the qualities of a leader: he's good at dealing with conflict (as evident with the conversation with the mage at the beginning. He gets where he wants to get without antagonizing the mage, but without allowing him to trample all over him). He's a solid tactitian and knows how to make allies (he suggests to use the Grey Warden treaties, after all). I bet if he was in the leadership position, he'd even not bicker with Morrigan. His moral code is pretty tight; some might say too tight, but I think it's less about the moral code and more about learning to judge people by their actions, not by the labels they fit into (Morrigan is a proud apostate and therefore bad. Wynne is a humble circle mage and therefore good). He also has a bit of a black-and-white way of seeing the world. I empathize a lot with Alistair, especially with his experience with the Chantry and his subsequent reluctance to deal with it. I really wish I had gotten to know more about concrete experiences he had during his training as templar, but he seems reluctant to talk about it (gee, I wonder why).

Since I've only played the game once, I haven't really picked up on Arl Eamon's abuse towards him, which apparently exists (Isolde, however... I mean, even if he were Eamon's illegitimate son, he's a kid, ma'am, he didn't exactly get to chose his parents. So that's so not okay). Alistair's way of speaking about them both, however, is either sign that he has not come within a hundred miles of acknowledging how much it hurt him, or that he's already gone through the whole process and has decided to forgive them. The latter shows a very strong character; yes, he relies on the approval and leadership of others, he has his issues, but he's already started working on them.

That being said, irl Alistair would be like a little brother to me. I'd tease him relentlessly (all in good fun and I promise to stop if it makes him uncomfortable, but he's just so teasable). I still wish the videogame gave him the chance to take important decisions for himself. But that, of course, would somewhat defeat the point of the game.

Leliana:

Another sweet, sweet person. Her singing voice is amazing. Her belief in the Maker inspires me (I'm a religious person and seeing religious characters represented in a positive light is Very Cool. It's also sometimes a source of discomfort, because the Church has done a lot of very messed up stuff and positive representation can sometimes veer into apologetics for things that should not be excused, but that's a whole other can of worms. The bottom line is that religious characters sometimes work for me and other times don't and Leliana works for me very much bc she's an outsider inside the Chantry).

Leliana is best friend material, tbh. I'd love to get to know her irl, discuss theology and philosophy and maybe even politics? She makes mistakes and has prejudices, but, tbh, so do I. And I do get the feeling that she tries her best to learn. From the times she intervenes in a conversation between the Warden and an NPC, she shows herself to be compassionate and open to the needs of others. What I get from her character is that she genuinely wants to help, which is something that I adore of her. I suspect that she sometimes has a hard time deciding wether she's a good person or not. She has killed and seduced and worked for a morally dubious person, and she doesn't show the same nonchalance about it as Zevran (though they both do discuss their line of work in very... professional terms). This is, however, more of a headcanon than actual factual canon.

I also very much enjoy her girly side, like her interest in shoes and dresses. She's one badass woman who also looses her cool about the latest fashions in Val Royeaux. I like that. Between her and Alistair, a non human noble Warden has as good a help to navigate the Fereldan court as they're going to get. Leliana is also, I can't forget that, clever and insightful. It'd be easy to write her off as the innocent chantry girl, but she's so much more than that. Her kindness is paired with foresight, I think. She knows that taking on the trouble to help now can go a long way in the future. I just have a lot of respect for her.

Loghain:

This one's gonna be short bc I didn't recruit him. He's an amazing villain and would probably be a great Warden as well. He reminds me of Denerhor from LOTR; once a hero/stewart of his people, ambition and desperation have driven them both down a terrible path. I have also only little idea about his past. People say he lost a lot, and I believe it wholeheartedly; it doesn't excuse the fact that he plunged the country into a civil war in the middle of a Blight. I don't have a lot of sympathy for short-sighted politicians. I wish he hadn't made himself regent. That's what I take away from his character.

Edit: One thing I forgot to mention that really impressed me was his death. I had Alistair duel him (that was a rough duel), and then it kinda just jumped to a cutscene of my Warden nodding and Alistair executing him. That didn't sit well with me. I didn't want to kill Loghain, and less so in front of Anora. But what impressed me was that Loghain just accepted it. That takes a whole lot of guts. Compare that to Howe's death, and how he screams out that he deserved (more, probably, or anything but death) and it's crystal clear who the more noble of the two is. Loghain strikes me as very lawful neutral, and any neutral alignment has the particularity that it can be dragged towards good or bad, sometimes without the characters noticing it (which is interesting from a DnD perspective; neutral is often concieved of as just as stable as good or evil, but that may not be true. But that's a different post). Anyway, Loghain's death was impactful.

Morrigan:

I could kick myself for not maxing out her approval in the first play-through. I got to enjoy a bit of her friendship by the end of it and boy was even that little bit worth it. Friendship with Morrigan is something that is hard-won. It's all the more precious because of that.

Morrigan is full of paradoxes, I think. She's incredibly wise in some ways, yet also very short-sighted (”just kill them, don't solve their problems”. Morrigan, dear, I'm not going to gain a lot of allies if I kill everybody who poses a problem to me). She is so intelligent, but emotionally... not so. She knows so much about some things, and very little about the next. She's incredibly wilful and knows what she wants, but follows Flemeth's orders all the time through. She hungers for power and independence, yet craves closeness, but won't allow herself to have it. She asks you to prove yourself to her and is extremely critical of your actions, I think, because she's afraid. She bites the hand that feeds her because it might hit her next.

Like with Eamon, I haven't managed to catch the undercurrent of abuse that seems to permeate Flemeth's relationship with Morrigan. Except there are signs, because there must be something Morrigan is scared of and who has instilled all that rage in her, and that's Flemeth. Also, she clearly hates/does not care about her and wants her dead (unless killing Flemeth was part of Flemeth's plan as well? Hm.)

Morrigan is that one person who you are nice to, continuously, because nobody else is. And suddenly she becomes less cold. And then friendly. And suddenly you're asking yourself why everybody hates her, because she's a really good friend! I just wish the other companions came to a similar conclusion, especially Alistair and Wynne.

Oghren:

They did this man dirty. He has such great lines and I'm convinced he was a great person before Branka disappeared. He has that dwarven warrior spirit, and while he looks like Gimli, some of his most impactful lines remind me of Dwalin or even Thorin Oakenshield himself. He could be so noble had he gotten some character development, damnit!

Oghren as he is written is somewhat disgusting. I hate the lechering comments and the drunkenness. And still, I don't hate him because of those amazing lines he has when he's actually sober. It's frustrating and I'll give him that character development myself if the game won't. I strongly associate the song Whiskey Lullaby with him, bc that's how he would have ended up if the Warden hadn't taken him along (warning: the song talks about suicide and alcoholism). Like I said, they could have done such cool things with his character. As he is written now... it's just sad. Moments of lucidity drowned in alcohol and creepy jokes. As you can see, I don't blame the character for either. The alcoholism happens all too often irl. The creepy jokes... I put that one on the writers' tab.

I actually think Oghren could have been a great mentor figure (I know, I shock myself as well sometimes). Next to the Grey Wardens, the ones who know most about fighting darkspawn are the dwarves because they have to deal with them constantly. Especially a warrior caste dwarf like Oghren could have brought a lot of that invaluable knowledge to the team, especially since there are no Grey Wardens in Ferelden but two extremely green recruits. Next, you get the chance to give Oghren the command of the teammates you leave behind in the battle of Denerim with the reason that he has lead men into battle before. Where did that suddenly come from? Oghren should have been right up there telling my Warden that they were doing this wrong, that they needed more food (and booze) and a confident leader to keep the armies they've called together going. Oghren should have been able to tell my civilian city elf who got recruited into the Grey Wardens a six months ago how one leads an army. How one presents oneself to inspire confidence, how one doesn't crack under the pressure, how one gets the leaders of said armies (some who hate each others guts i.e. Dalish elves and humans) to work together. And, last but not least, Oghren could have had a great story about grief. This is a man who has lost most of what made him (and what he hasn't lost he's spilling down the drain with every mug of ale). This is a man who, if you take him into the Deep Roads, has to see what his wife did to his family, how his wife got absolutely obsessed, and can be forced to kill said wife or watch her die. All Wardens loose their home and families at the start of the story. It would really have rounded the whole narrative out if the Warden and Oghren could have recognised their grief in each other and hashed it out somehow. Such as it is, Oghren is a depressed drunkard and there is nothing we can do about that. I find that frustrating.

Rascal (a.k.a. Dog):

Best boy. 100/10. I wish we had gotten to see the reaction of the different origins to the mabari (because elves probably have a whole different experience with them from mages or humans. And dwarves just... I think they straight up have none? XD). Other than that, no complaints. The name Rascal was the one I gave my dog because you have to be a right rascal to survive what he did and play the pranks he plays. Smartest breed in the world indeed.

Shale:

Shale is one of those characters that I recruited rather late in the game, so I haven't had the chance to explore their personality and worldview, really. I didn't even get to take them to the Deep Roads (this will be ammended in playthrough nr. 2). As such, I don't have particularly strong opinions on them (or her? The wiki refers to Shale as 'it', but that sounds weird). But, because I know so little about Shale, I have a lot of questions. First, what were they like before they were a golem? Shayle, as she was called then, was the best warrior of her time if I remember correctly. Why did she become a golem? Was it to be able to eternally protect her people? Was the sarcasm the golem Shale exhibits also part of the dwarven warrior Shayle or did that come later (if for thirty years you have nobody to talk to but yourself, you better be entertaining. And I can imagine how it could make somebody terribly jaded as well).

Next, how attached is Shale to their golem form, exactly? According to the banter, they infinitely prefer it to a squishy fleshy form. If that is the case, however, why go to Tevinter to try and become a squishy dwarf again? It's not like that process could be reversed if they wanted to become a golem again; if Shale survives to the end of the game, the Anvil of the Void is destroyed and Caridin is dead. Was the whole spiel about their indestructible form a façade? It might have been, but not because Shale actually disliked their form. I think it would have more to do with the loss of their memories and with the very invasive experiments and alterations of Shale's body made by the mage Wilhelm. The loss of memories means that Shale is unable to remember life as a fleshy creature. They might be deflecting by pretending that they didn't care for that experience anyway because of the superiority of their golem form. The modifications made to their form by Wilhelm would have alienated them from their body. In light of this, it's significant that Shale asks the Warden to decorate their form with crystals.

All of this is, of course, pure speculation. I may have easily missed or forgotten details that would disprove the above thoughts. All in all, I like Shale and I hope we meet them again in DA4 (given that it's mostly set in Tevinter). It's a liking from a respectful distance, because Shale is tall and made out of rock and also way more experienced than I will ever be (they are literally the oldest member of the Warden's little Blight fighting squad).

Sten:

Sten is another person I'd keep a respectful distance from physically. That seems to be the what he would prefer, at least. I've enjoyed his character a lot, especially because he seems pretty clear-cut at first, but slowly lets the nuance of his person show (gruff and stoic, but then he has an eye for art, a sweet tooth and he likes cute animals). It's also very interesting that there's no moment when you learn "the truth" about him the way you do with Zevran or Leliana. There's no big reveal about his life under the Qun before coming to Ferelden. He says he was sent to monitor the Blight, but honestly? If neither Ferelden nor Orlais knew there was a Blight, how could the Qunari know? I think he's lying, and he takes his secrets back with him when he leaves Ferelden. And yet I think I know him enough to say that a Warden who has become friends with him has nothing to fear from Sten.

One thing I find very interesting about Sten is how he thinks. His conversation about how women can't be soldiers has been analysed a lot on this page I think. He seems to be arguing based on a different paradigma than the one the Warden has. He also seems to have a very clear-cut view of the world. What is fascinating to me is that, when arguing with the Warden and learning about their culture, he is not necessarily becoming more lax about his worldview. I think it's more likely that he is expanding his paradigma, the structure of thought through which he understands the world. I don't think that he is now convinced that women can be warriors as well. I think he rather understands that, in Ferelden, the relationship between occupation and gender is different than under the Qun. Which of the two he thinks is more right or more agreeable, I have no idea. I'm also not very interested in that. But I find it fascinating how he always seems to be looking on quietly, gathering data, classifying it and trying to fit it into his understanding of how the world works. I wouldn't be surprised at all if his original party was a scouting party to see how vulnerable Ferelden was at that moment to outside forces. One thing I don't understand with all of this is why he urges the Warden to meet the Blight head on. No smart soldier would suggest that, except if they are foolishly proud (and Sten doesn't seem like that kind of guy tbh). I get that the Warden takes way longer to gather allies than expected because they first have to solve all of their allies' problems. But surely Sten sees the need to have allies? Is he just that impatient? Does he have a death wish (à la, I lost my sword and am without honour, better to die sooner than later and in glorious battle)? Was he his group's previous commander and is he now having trouble following somebody else's orders? Or maybe it's his way to make sure the Warden knows what they are doing? To push them into becoming the self-assured commander their allies will need once they're all gathered? I really don't know. I like the last option best, however.

For me, Sten is my fellow, more experienced soldier. Like Alistair, he can potentially be the Warden's brother in arms, but he's definitely the older brother here. He probably doesn't take kindly to tearful confessions of how hard everything is, but I feel like he's otherwise a solid rock to lean on. I feel like the Warden can trust him to do what is necessary and count on him no matter what, especially after they get his sword back. His devotion from that point on is honestly so powerful.

Wynne:

Wynne was such a support for my Warden (except with the whole conversation about love vs. duty and that she may have to choose between Zevran and ending the Blight and that she should therefore break up with him. Wynne had a point. Astala was so not willing to sacrifice her relationship with Zevran. But the whole conversation came at a point where she was already so disillusioned that she blew up in Wynne's face (”can i please just have one (1) nice thing????”)). But all in all, Wynne is great.

She has a lot of flaws. She was very marked by her life in the Cricle and, for all her age, she has little experience living outside of it. She is also a conformist despite her strong moral core. In a way, her ability to find peace with her lot in life impresses me deeply because it speaks to a lot of strength of character. Sadly, however, strength can be ill applied and used to suppress. I think she has convinced herself that the Chantry is right under (almost) all circumstances to be able to rationalize the life that mages live. She's had her son taken away from her as a baby and an apprentice killed. Her reaction seems to have been to convince herself that this was right, or for the greater good (and now I'm thinking about the Guardian's question at the temple of Andraste's Ashes; are you wise or do you just repeat what others have told you? The answer is not as clear-cut as it might be). This is why she is so irritated by Zevran and Morrigan. By aligning herself with the Chantry, she is, in her eyes, good. Zevran and Morrigan are not; they do not conform to Chantry morality and they defend themselves tooth and nails against somebody who would try and convert them. This is something Wynne never allowed herself to do; she always did the "right" thing and it has cost her so much. I'm not saying she was right (it would probably have done her some good to rebel from time to time, and to trust her own gut instinct more), but in light of this, it hardly surprises me that she's so judgamental. She has to be, or she would be forced to confront all the evil she has not fought against all those years and all the hurt that has been caused to her by the very institution she protects (and thank God she only tries to argue and can appreciate it when people have found a good life outside of her comfort zone. If she tried to convince by force or, for example, drag her former apprentice back to the Circle... boy oh boy that would get ugly). If you think about it, Wynne really is a good example for what happens if you live by a philosophy of always choosing the lesser evil.

Something that I keep forgetting over her grandmotherly and dignified character is how damn powerful she is. She has escaped the carnage at Ostagar; HOW!? She protected those mage apprentices in the Circle tower for God knows how long. In the battle of Denerim, she wades through an army and comes out alive on the other side. The wiki lists her age at 40, I think, but that doesn't make a lick of sense unless 75 years of age are the Fereldan equivalent to 100. This lady, about whom people make grandmother jokes, did all that. It's impressive.

Zevran:

You know, I would really love to know what Wynne thinks about the events at Kirkwall in DA2. It might be a disaster for her, or it might pave the way for one last bit of character development. She certainly didn't want to return to the Circle after fighting the Blight. That may be an indicator of some change in her stance on the Circle of Magi.

Edit: I forgot that she is what the Circle considers a literal abomination! Holy cow, how could I forget that?? Anyway, her conversation about what being an abomination means is so... heartbreaking, actually. It's so tentative. So careful. "Am I an abomination? Am I the same thing that has killed my students? The same thing as Uldred? Am I lost and damned? Did I invite this spirit in? Is this my fault?" Like wow, Wynne is going through something huge right there. I love it. I have to continue playing the game to see what it ends up as, but it's fascinating and such a huge thing that she allows the Warden in on that.

Ah, Zevran, my beloved (he has stolen my heart so much it's not even funny anymore). He's funny, he's charming, he's so so loyal and it breaks my heart. Zevran is the one about whom I've read most meta: these three wonderful posts for instance, as well as this one about his possible lack of scars, and this one about his lack of freedom. All of these have influenced my opinion of him and they are great reads.

I have talked about Zevran with you before, so I'll just skip to the new stuff. I have come to conclusion that Zevran is an artist at heart. This is totally not biased by the fact that I also do art, but hear me out. One of his preferred gifts are bars of silver and gold. While those have the obvious utility of basically functioning as money (they can be sold to any silversmith or goldsmith and their value is pretty stable through time and in different countries), there's also this from his codex: "Zevran shows an affinity for the finer things in life—hardly surprising for an Antivan Crow—but his appreciation can be more poetic than he lets on. A simple bar of refined silver or gold, uncomplicated by a craftsman's hammer, is elegantly valuable." Tell me that is not an artist's eye that sees that gold and sees the beauty in it. Then, there's also the meta about Zevran the Seducer which I linked above and link here again. It talks specifically about how he lets himself enjoy the target and be seen in his enjoyment. Tell me that is not an artist's eye that beholds the beauty of something he is set out to destroy. Even his talk about his assassinations show this. He talks about it as an art, the way somebody would talk about the brutal intervention in stone that produces a sculpture. Yes, it's a rationalization of the act of killing and yes killing is still wrong. But he doesn't go on about it on a moral tangent the way Alistair or Wynne would (”this person was bad, killing them was necessary”) or even through the argument of survival like Morrigan would (”it was either them or me and it sure as Hell wasn't going to be me”). He talks about the pleasure of a job well done, of the satisfaction of striking the precise point and executing a plan to the perfection so as to minimize chances of discovery and to make a clean death possible. And pleasure in seeing and in doing, this I firmly believe, is absolutely fundamental for an artist.

My favourite part about my Warden and Zevran as a pairing is that Zevran precisely brings out that ability to take your pleasures as they come and to really savour them. Fighting the Blight is tough; it's so important to find good things amidst the chaos to stay sane. If Astala saves Zevran from himself by offering him a place to stay and a purpose, Zevran saves Astala from herself by keeping her from running herself into the ground trying to save the world.

There are some things I don't like about Zev. The incessant flirting, for example, sometimes makes me uncomfortable (it becomes enjoyable for me once the Warden and him are in a relationship, but before that? Nah, no thanks). I wish he would also leave the other female characters alone (and there's so many more shameless comments of his aimed at Morrigan, Leliana or Wynne than at Alistair or maybe even Sten).

---

And that's my take on the Origins companions (this was rather long. Whew ^^' I hope it was still readable and that you enjoyed it!!) Thank you so much for the ask!! It's been a joy thinking about this. I was worrying at first that the less prominent companions like Sten or Shale wouldn't get as much content but... well XD

[blouisparadise]

Upon request, here is a rec list of bottom Louis fics where Harry radiates sex appeal. We hope you enjoy this fics! If you find our rec lists useful, please support them by liking the post and reblogging it to help spread the word. Happy reading!

1) Gimme Gimme | Mature | 5957 words

He dragged himself to his bedroom and flopped down face-first onto the bed, groaning, and started thinking about that new neighbor. Maybe this was his chance. Maybe this was the time for him to actually try and find a love interest that lasted longer than 2 weeks. He rolled over and sat up on the bed, rubbing the back of his neck as he looked out the window.

And what he saw was probably the most amazing thing on the planet.

Walking into his new neighbor’s house was a man in a suit, carrying a briefcase while his Porsche sat in the driveway.

2) Under the Vanilla Sky | Explicit | 8006 words

Who the hell wears a hat like that on a yacht?  That's one of the things Louis thinks when he sees Harry from across the deck of the most expensive, ridiculous boat he's ever been on.  He also thinks he'd like to get closer.  Just to see what's under those aviators.  Just to verify that, yes, in fact, those white swim trunks might be a little see-through when wet.  Just to see if someone could really be that hot in real life.  On a yacht.  In the Caribbean sea just off the coast of St. Barts.  

Here's what really happened on that yacht.

3) Sweet Like Cherry Vodka | Not Rated | 8039 words

When he exits the building he instantly sees him. He’s leaning against his white Mercedes Benz convertible. The car makes him look more expensive. Of course, the navy blue suit that fits tightly around his broad shoulders — making Louis want to fall to his knees, mind you — also helps to get the message across. He looks up from his phone, his sleek black aviators block Louis from seeing his dark eyes.

When Louis knows Harry's watching him he smiles. A grin grows on Harry’s mouth, his strong jaw moves cockily while he chews his gum. How does someone make chewing gum so hot?

“Need a ride sweetheart?” Harry calls to him, the statement adds to his cocky demeanor.

“You know I do, silly.” Louis laughs at how ridiculous the older man can be.

4) You And I ‘Till The Day We Die | Explicit | 10807 words

Prompt 124: A fic inspired by Groupie Love by Lana Del Rey, where Harry is a Rockstar and Louis is his cute little boyfriend who tries to hide himself in the middle of the crowd. (Preferably set in the 80s)

5) Guns N Roses | Mature | 14069 words

Harry's an assassin, Louis is a government agent. They hate each other but not really.

6) My English Love Affair | Explicit | 19198 words

Note: This fic is locked and can only be read by AO3 users.

The thing about sleeping with a member of a famous indie band is that the inevitability of having a song written about you is most likely a hundred percent. The second thing is that in the end, nobody's supposed to find out it's about you.

The one where Harry writes a song about his English love affair and Louis sleeps with someone in White Eskimo and all he gets is a stupid song written about him.

7) The Way The Storm Blows | Explicit | 21649 words

Louis doesn’t have a habit of thinking about Harry’s dick.

That would be weird, seeing as they’re best mates, and they share a flat, and they’ve spent holidays at each other’s family homes. Their friendship hasn’t ever risen to a point where Louis should want to see his mate’s dick, and he’s happy to keep it that way.

Except, all that Louis can think about is exactly that. The size of it. The shape. The amount of people it’s been in.

Maybe it’s the tequila talking, or the fact that Louis’ just recently walked in to an eyeful of Harry taking turns on some slags that he’s never seen before, but. Louis’ mind can’t stop obsessing over the idea.

8) Even The Best Laid Plans | Explicit | 25190 words

Louis wants to have sex with someone and decides Harry is the perfect alpha for the job.

9) A Trail Of Honey Through It All | Explicit | 27086 words

The boy in front of him, well really, the man in front of him, was like something out of a confusing wet dream. Built, tall, tan and muscular, his skin glistened with sweat after a long day of working outdoors with his hands. He was wearing a cut up old American football shirt, the bottom hem was torn and the sleeves were cut off to the point where the t-shirt was really just a loose tank top. The shorts he had on had clearly been full length jeans at one point, and were now just crudely cut off above the knee. His white socks were pulled up too high on his calves, and the brown work boots he had on were old as fuck, the leather peeling along the edges of the soles. Curly brown hair stuck out from the edges of his backwards snapback, and there was a smudge of grease wiped along his brow bone. The smattering of hair along his jaw proved that he hadn’t shaved in a week or two, the hair growing in thicker across his upper lip and around his chin. His sinfully bowed mouth was pink and plump, and Louis was suddenly hyper-focused on the way that he chewed at the toothpick stuck between his lips. He looked like he needed a shower. Louis wanted to lick him.

10) Carnelian | Explicit | 30631 words

Louis finds himself donating blood to the most beautiful being he's ever seen.

11) Take My Pure (And Wash It All Away ‘Til I’m Cured) | Explicit | 40629 words

They're all 19. Louis is a twink, Harry is a frat boy hunk. Harry for some reason wants his makeup done for pride, and Louis is just trying so very hard to stay clear of all alleged fuckboys this year.

12) In The Still Of The Night | Explicit | 68568 words

The Dirty Dancing AU where Louis is a feisty omega who wants to change the world, Harry is an alpha from the wrong side of the tracks, and nobody puts Louis in a corner.

13) Waiting On You | Explicit | 76576 words

“Vampires,” Louis says with disgust, glaring over at the vampire who is noisily slurping from the woman’s neck nearby.

Zayn gives the neat fang marks on Louis’ neck a meaningful look.

“Can’t live with them, can’t live without them,” Louis finishes, ignoring Zayn when he rolls his eyes.

Louis takes a long sip of his milkshake, presses his fingers against the marks on his neck, and definitely doesn’t think about the vampire who left them there.

14) Your Name is Tattooed on My Heart | Explicit | 86809 words

Note: This fic has mentions of top Louis.

Louis is ready to find the love of his life, but first he has to stop falling for the punk rocker next door.

15) Beyond The Point Of Weird | Mature | 108331 words

Louis meets Harry one night and well... Of course things lead from one thing to another. How could Louis not be interested in having a go at the ex-Rockstar who'd starred in his first wet dream?

When Harry asks him to pretend to be his boyfriend to help him clear up his image, Louis agrees because why the fuck not. Yet it kind of feels like the only 'fake' part of their relationship is the title they chose for it... And then it gets confusing.

Louis' pretty sure he walked right into a trap - one he's not quite sure he wants to escape.

Check out our other fic rec lists by category here and by title here.

[invisibleanonymousmonsters]

In Times Past

Character: Bruce Wayne x Fem!Reader

Summary: Bruce Wayne’s life doesn’t exist beyond the fake storylines he performs for the media and citizens of Gotham. Maybe the only person that can change that is someone who knew him before Batman ever even existed. 

Word Count: 8,200+ [One Shot]

Warnings: Violence, mentions of sexual harrassment

A/N: As I teased before, this was inspired by this scene from Batman Begins. 

Bruce could sense Alfred’s tension when he walked into the kitchen that morning. The man was not one to hold back his thoughts and feelings. It was both a blessing and a curse. But Bruce sensed it was the latter today.

Before Bruce could even get a sip of coffee in, Alfred tossed the Sunday newspaper in front of him.

On the front page was a photo of Batman, far too high of a resolution for Bruce’s liking. ‘BATMAN: SAVIOR OR MENACE?’ the headline read.

“A little too close for comfort, don’t you think?” Alfred asked with a hint of sass.

However, Bruce controlled his reaction.

“Not the first time I’ve been photographed, Alfred.”

“You’re dancing with the devil, Master Wayne.”

“So, what? You want me to lay down the cape because everyone in America has the ability to take a photo on their cellphone?”

“Of course not,” Alfred retorted. Though Alfred secretly wished every day that Bruce would say goodbye to the Batman. “I just thought perhaps you should be putting a bit more effort into Bruce Wayne’s life if you really want to throw Gotham off your trail.”

Then he tossed another newspaper. This one of Bruce Wayne, the other mask he wore.

‘Bruce Wayne Lights Up the Room at Charity Ball.’

Alfred points to the date…it was 9 months ago. And it was unfortunately the last time Bruce Wayne was in the press.

“You better start creating alibis, Master Wayne, or the dark web will start to putting two and two together…”

Bruce sighed. He knew Alfred was right. But he hated all that went with what he had to do. He’d rather face off with Gotham’s deadliest criminals than go galavanting around the city as the self-absorbed and reckless playboy persona that he’d created.

“There is a birthday party for Eaton Elliot next weekend. Naturally, being old family friends, you received an invitation,” Alfred explained. “Plenty of press will be there to note your attendance. Seems rather convenient."

Bruce recognized the name. It was the older brother of Thomas Elliot, a childhood friend that he slightly lost touch with. He’d see him or his parents at various events, and things were always cordial.

But it didn’t really matter how absent or quiet Bruce was when it came to maintaining such relationships. Everyone forgave such behavior when it came to saving face with the only living member of the Wayne family. Bruce could spit in the faces of Gotham’s elite and they’d probably thank him for it.

“Black tie affair, as always,” Alfred added as he slipped the invitation to Bruce. “Perhaps you could bring a date…”

Bruce glared up at the butler. “Dates make it harder to make a quick and quiet exit, Alfred.”

“Well, maybe that’s the point, Master Wayne.”

————

Just like he was on patrol or working on an op, Bruce had prepared for every single scenario. He made a plan that would be the most effective in the shortest amount of time. He didn’t want to torture himself any longer than absolutely necessary.

When Alfred asked him again if he was planning on bringing a date, Bruce had only replied with a mischievous smirk.

Because he walked in with a girl on each arm.

It wasn’t the classy or gentlemanly thing to do. And that was exactly the point.

Conversations paused, attention was turned, and flashes went off.

Bruce Wayne made his entrance.

He carefully fell into the groove of being the spoiled brat everyone had painted him out to be. It had been awhile since he played the part, but Bruce always found it easy when he was surrounded by these kinds of people.

Bruce made sure to slightly slur his words. He would get too handsy with his dates. He would rudely interrupt people to share his own useless opinion on whatever topic was leading the conversation. He never looked waitstaff in the eye.

But now it was time for the finale.

Bruce whispered a certain suggestion into the ears of his dates.

They shared a look that proved they were both game.

The three of them stumbled into a bathroom – one out in the open that most of the guests would be steered toward.

The kissing began and clothes were quickly shifted.

There was a split moment when Bruce wondered what this would feel like for a man who actually wanted to be in this situation.

The two woman managed unbuckle his belt, the clanking metal echoing in the all-tile bathroom.

But just as they unbuttoned and then unzipped his pants, Bruce’s cellphone rang loudly.

Right on cue.

“Ladies, ladies, ladies,” Bruce whined. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry,” his words stumbled out. “But I just have to take this call.”

“Aww. Brucie. You’re no fun,” one of the women fussed.

But Bruce gave off enough dominate energy that they didn’t try to fight him on it.

Hair disheveled, mouth swollen and pink, lipstick stains on his skin and his pants and belt barely put back together, Bruce stumbled out of the bathroom first.

The two women didn’t bother to stay back and spread out their exits, making it very clear what had just happened – or what it looked like just happened.

It didn’t matter that Bruce didn’t actually have sex with them, every woman in Gotham wanted to say they’d shared a bed with Bruce Wayne. His two dates would lie to save face and get street cred. Bruce hated that he knew that, that it was guaranteed.

Dozens of people, who were socializing near the bathroom, stopped what they were doing and watched with judgmental looks. Some men looked jealous. Some women looked disgusted and eyed the two women up and down.

Then there was the flash of a camera.

Bingo.

Bruce wouldn’t have to linger much longer now.  

He played up being somewhat embarrassed.

But just as he put his phone to his ear to take the fake call that Alfred dialed, he saw the last person he expected.

It caused him to do a double take and freeze. 

His focus fell for a moment as they made eye contact.

Why did she have to be here?

Why did she have to be one of his witnesses?

Why did it hurt so much to see how she looked at him as if he were a stranger?

And why did she have to look so god damn beautiful?

Y/F/N Y/L/N.

The Y/L/N family were another one of Gotham’s elite – well, they used to be.

Y/N’s father was once worth billions. But being born into wealth didn’t guarantee intelligence or the skills to properly run the family business. When Bruce and Y/N were in high school, Y/N’s father filed for bankruptcy and confessed that the family was about to lose everything. With the announcement, the press also exposed Mr. Y/L/N’s many lustful affairs.

What came next was a messy and brutal divorce that the media ate up.  

Out of spite, Y/N’s mother remarried her ex-husband’s biggest competitor, maintaining her status and wealth, and making sure she still came out on top. It was the greatest revenge and even Y/N had to give her mother credit for the ingenuity of it all.

Bruce remembered how terrible it all was for Y/N, who was used as a pawn in her parents war against each other.

Having had enough of it, Y/N fled Gotham and chose to live with her eccentric great aunt in London and finished her last year of high school there.

But Y/N didn’t run away from Bruce. They emailed, texted, video chatted, called.

They had always been good friends.

The elites of Gotham always suspected the two would get married. But both Bruce and Y/N pretended to ignore such whisperings.

But when Bruce shifted his life, when he changed his life’s purpose, when he started becoming a vigilante…he stopped taking Y/N’s calls and he stopped returning them.

He told himself it was better that way. He couldn’t handle any distractions. Batman didn’t have time for personal relationships, so neither did Bruce Wayne. But more importantly, Y/N deserved someone who would prioritize her – even just as a friend.

Now Bruce needed to get actually drunk.

Putting the phone back to his ear, he broke eye contact and made a beeline for one of the bars. 

“Did you forget to tell me about the guest list, Alfred?” Bruce muttered evenly to the phone, knowing that Alfred would easily be able to hear his anger and irritation.

“How was I to know who RSVPed yes or no…” Alfred bit back. But he knew exactly who Bruce was looking at.

Bruce frowned as he ended the call abruptly and asked for a whiskey.

“I don’t know, man. She’s not my type,” a man said to his friend.

The two of them were just a foot or two away from Bruce.

“What do you mean ‘not your type’? She’s fucking hot.”

“Don’t get me wrong, she’s beautiful. But she’s so stiff and uptight. Look, she’s had a resting bitch face all night.”

Bruce’s grip on his face tightened as he easily put together who they were talking about. It was moments like these that Bruce hated being lumped together with men like this.

“You’re an idiot,” the friend said with a laugh.

“Oh, yeah? Alright. If you’re so obsessed with her, why don’t you go over and talk to her?”

Bruce saw his window. 

With a sloppy haste, Bruce turned right into the two men and just happened to spill his drink over the man who was about to make a move on Y/N.

Bruce laughed and spilled another drink on the bar as he tried to grab some nearby cocktail napkins. “Gentleman, gentleman…I so dearly apologize.”

Both of them were clearly annoyed, but then realized who he was.  

Bruce gripped them by the shoulders and made sure his eyes were struggling to stay open. “I could be wrong…but it’s possible…that I have been over served.”

He broke out into a chuckle and both men forced their own laughter.

Bruce subtle glanced over to where Y/N had been standing. She’d disappeared.

He’d spared her…for now.

“I think it’s time I go home,” Bruce told them too loudly. “Do me a favor? Wish her congratulations for me?”

The two men looked at one another. “Congratulations? To who?”

Bruce frowned in confusion and looked around. “Isn’t this an engagement party?”

They tried to hide their laughter. “Wayne, this is a birthday party. For Eaton Elliot.”

Bruce’s brows shot up. “A birthday party? Look at that!”

Then he turned around, zigzagged his walk, and threw a wave over his shoulder.

But Bruce wasn’t that lucky.

Because when he made his way to the valet, he found Y/N waiting patiently with her back to him. 

Her fancy dress and gloves seemed to do nothing to help protect her from the cold night. 

Bruce could’ve left. He could’ve left her alone, gone back into the party, and made more of a fool of himself.

But next thing he knew, he was walking forward.  

“Waiting for your car?”

Y/N didn’t turn to him, but it was clear that she heard his question and recognized who it had come from. “I didn’t drive. They’re getting me a cab.”

Bruce nodded slowly even though she wasn’t looking at him.

All charm had left his body now that he had quit the act. It wasn’t going to do any favors for him. He needed to do this on his own, as his real self.

Y/N finally turned with a slight attitude and Bruce was taken aback at how she was even more beautiful up close.

“What are you doing here, Bruce?”

He smirked. “I’m here for the party, of course.” He didn’t want to play the part anymore – not with her. But it was second nature at this point.

Her lips pursed at his response.

“Leaving so soon?” He asked.

Y/N sighed. “Between you and me, I’m only here as a favor to my mother. She wouldn’t get off my back about coming. I tried to leave sooner, but…”

One of the valets hopped up the steps. “I’m sorry, Dr. Y/L/N. It can take awhile to get cabs in the area at this time of night.”

Y/N gave him a sympathetic smile and opened her mouth to say she’d walk home.

“I’ll drive her home,” Bruce spoke before she could. Then he handed the valet his ticket.

Y/N looked at him with confusion and a bit of annoyance. “You really don’t have to do that.”

Bruce just gave her a look that said he absolutely did.

Then Y/N gestured back to the party. “You’re just gonna abandon your dates?”

The way she asked made it clear that Y/N had seen Bruce stumble out of the bathroom with the two of them. He also didn’t miss how she emphasized the plural.

“They’ll be fine,” Bruce told her.

He took a step toward her. “Let me give you a ride, Y/N.”

She took in a deep breath.

She knew she needed the ride. Only an idiot would walk home at this time of night, even if the walk to her apartment was a relatively safe one for Gotham standards.

Y/N just nodded.

A minute later, an Aston Martin drove up.

Bruce offered his arm to Y/N and helped her down the stairs before opening the passenger door for her.

He handed the valet a few bills, not even noticing they were all hundreds.

“Where to?” Bruce asked her.

“Oh, umm…” Y/N quickly gave him her address.

“I know you’ve been gone awhile, but you definitely shouldn’t be walking around the streets of Gotham at night.”

Y/N scoffed. “I’m aware. I moved back awhile ago.”

“Oh. I didn’t know…”

“Yeah. Well, why would you? It’s not like you kept in touch.”

The car filled with silence.

Y/N stared out the passenger window, looking at the skyscraper lights of Gotham

It seemed Y/N had no issue with staying silent for the whole car ride.There was nothing awkward about it for her.

But Bruce knew there were things he needed to say. “I’m sorry.”

This was the last thing Y/N expected and her head whipped to him.

But Bruce kept his eyes on the road. “For disappearing like I did.”

Y/N slowly turned back to the passenger window and said nothing.

Bruce didn’t expect to win her forgiveness. He would have to deal with that. But at least he could apologize.

“Y/N.” Bruce said it ever so quietly, like he was forbidden from speaking it. “This isn’t…I’m not…” Dammit. What was he even trying to accomplish right now? “Back there–”

“Back there?” Y/N interrupted his fumbling. “Oh, you mean the threesome you had in a bathroom at a party?”

Bruce’s jaw tightened.

Everyone bought his performance. Unfortunately, even Y/N.

Bruce pulled over and Y/N realized they were at her building already.

“You can say whatever makes you feel good, Bruce. Have at it.” Then she threw open the car door.

She put her hand on the handle to help herself out.

But she hesitated.

No. She wasn’t going down without a fight.

Y/N spun around to face Bruce, his blue eyes already waiting for her.

“You used to be kind. Strong and brave. You were better than all of them.”

And for the first time, Bruce really saw the damage he had done.

“Is that boy really gone?” She searched his eyes for the answer. “What is the act and what is the truth?” She whispered. “Huh, Bruce?”

He wanted to tell her.

Bruce had never felt the urge to expose his secret ever before.

But right now? Right now, he wanted to take Y/N back to the manor, drag her down to the cave, and show her all of his secrets – every single one.

But he couldn’t. And he knew that.

Bruce kept his face reserved.

His brow furrowed for just a second as he took Y/N in. All of her. Her eyelashes. Her lips. The styling of her hair. The dip of her neck.

“You became quite the woman, Y/N.” He told her. “And a beautiful one at that.”

Y/N blinked at the statement. Her mind desperately tried to decipher the hidden message in his words, in his actions from the night. But she came up with nothing.

She wanted to say that she knew he was using flattery to divert her attention from what she wanted to know. But it was also clear that he genuinely meant what he said as well. His eyes seeming to be taking in every moment of being in her presence.

If Y/N weren’t so irritated, she probably would’ve been more taken aback by his compliment, feeling vulnerable and almost embarrassed.

There wasn’t any point in pushing.

So Y/N took in a breath. “Thank you for the ride, Bruce.”

He just nodded. Then he watched her walk to the door of her apartment building. He probably lingered a few moments too long, but he couldn’t bring himself to once again put distance between them.

————

Alfred brought down food and an espresso to the cave.

When he looked up, Y/F/N Y/L/N’s face was on the giant screen.

“Working on a case, Master Wayne?” He asked with his usual sarcasm.

Bruce ignored the question. “She attended undergrad in Metropolis and then went to grad school in New York City.”

“Yes, I can see that…considering you have her student records exploited all over the screen,” Alfred responded with a smirk. “She’s been living in Gotham again for a few years, working as a psychiatrist. Even volunteers her services at Arkham – pro bono.”

That caught Bruce’s attention. He turned away from the screen to look at Alfred.

“I found no record of that,” he argued.

“Yes. Well, her mother is rather embarrassed by it. Thinks it gives the family a bad image. She insisted Y/N’s philanthropy was kept secret, even approved the NDAs herself.”

Bruce gave him a look, utterly confused how Alfred had access to such information.

Alfred raised an eyebrow. “Never underestimate the power of gossip, Master Wayne. Most family secrets cannot be found on the dark corners of the internet.” Then he smirked. “You would gain quite the knowledge if you didn’t turn your nose up at it.”

Bruce smiled at that and turned back to the computer.

“So, I take it that it was good seeing her?” Alfred pressed.

Bruce tensed at the question. “Not entirely. I’m certain that she hates me.”

“Hates you or hates the character you’ve so carefully created?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m just Bruce Wayne to her.”

Alfred opened his mouth to say more.

“Leave it, Alfred.” Bruce cut off before he could.

“Well, it appears I’m not the one struggling with leaving it alone, Master Wayne.”

Like many of Gotham’s elites, Alfred had humored the idea that Bruce and Y/N would make a marvelous couple. Like Bruce, Y/N didn’t let money and power sway her morals or damage her good and kind heart.

Alfred had always enjoyed having her over and listening to her and Bruce’s laughter as they caused trouble around the manor and entertained themselves.

But he also saw how her departure effected Bruce, no matter how much the teenager had tried to hide it at the time.

Maybe Alfred was an optimist or a romantic, but he still believed there was a chance for the two of them. But Bruce, quite frankly, would have to get over himself and his stubbornness.

————

Bruce was looking down at the city from yet another rooftop. It had been a quiet night. And he hated nights like that. It was always ended up being the calm before a storm.

“Batman?” Alfred spoke into his comms.

“Yes.”

“It appears there’s been a breakout at Arkham. The media hasn’t caught wind of it yet. But law enforcement has already been dispatched.”

“I’m on my way,” Bruce announced as he slid down a fire escape and made his way to the batmobile that he’d hidden in the shadows of an alley.

“Master Wayne…” Alfred knew to only use codenames on comms.

Bruce tense. “What is it?”

There was hesitation from the butler. “Y/N was scheduled to work a shift there tonight…”

Bruce said nothing. But his foot pressed the gas pedal down further than necessary.

—

Y/N was sitting with a patient when the alarm went off.

The people that worked there called them inmates, and corrected her every time she chose not to use that title.

Harleen Quinzel had been sitting across from Y/N for almost 30 minutes when they were interrupted.

“Oh, fun!” Harley clapped and giggled as the sirens filled their ears.

Harley and Y/N had formed an interesting relationship. The criminal seemed to like her and looked forward to her visits. She never threatened Y/N or tried to manipulate her.

Y/N believes she won her over by addressing her as Dr. Quinzel and often asking her professional opinions on trends and news in their industry. 

Most people there only referred to Harley as if she was property of the Joker, no matter how many times Harley clarified that she wasn’t his anything anymore.

“Does this happen a lot?” Y/N asked her, trying to remain calm.

“Not enough, if ya ask me!” She laughed.

Y/N made the mistake of opening the door and seeing that the majority of the cells had been opened and prisoners were slowly making their way into the hallway.

“Not good,” Y/N muttered.

“Don’t worry, doc. I’ll protect ya! Us gals gotta stick together.” Harley said from behind her shoulder.

Y/N whipped around and looked at her and then at the table she’d been sitting at. “Dr. Quinzel! How did you get out of your restraints?”

“Oh, I’ve always been able to. I just leave ‘em on to be polite.”

Y/N sighed. No one had explained any sort of protocol for such a situation.

“Where the fuck are all the guards?” Y/N asked.

Suddenly the lights shut off.

“Yippy!” Harley cheered.

Y/N turned to her and softly grabbed her shoulder, but gave her an insistent look. “Harley, we need to get somewhere safe.”

Her face did dip to serious for a moment. “You don’t need to worry about me. But you’re right. Not everyone in here appreciates a shrink…”

To her surprise, Harley starts pulling her through the darkness with a purpose.

Y/N had no idea where she was planning on taking her. It seemed all the doors were in lock-down mode, leaving her stranded. If she survived tonight, she’d definitely be bringing that up to the board.

Bang. Bang. Bang.

Y/N yelped at the sound.

Someone had either gotten a hold of a gun or security guards were opening fire.

Either way, it caused chaos to erupt.

Suddenly the dark hallways were being filled with a stampede of prisoners. Either they wanted to take down the guard who was shooting or they were getting an adrenaline rush at the concept of their peers attacking their wardens.

The crowd ripped the two women apart. Y/N was shoved up against the wall and her head slammed against the cement.

Y/N swore under her breath from the pain.

“Is that…No, it can’t be…”

A voice called out over the madness.

A chill went up Y/N’s spine. She’d know that voice anywhere.

The Joker.

He wasn’t one of her patients. All researchers and doctors were forbidden to speak with him – especially after what happened with Harley.

But that didn’t stop the Joker from knowing who Y/N was. He whined and whined about feeling left out. “All my pals get to chat with her and all I get to do is look!”

Now, Joker was free from him isolation.

Y/N suspected he was behind the breakout.

And he was going to make a slight detour. A detour that was doing whatever the hell he wanted to with Dr. Y/L/N.

Y/N didn’t even bother hiding her fear. With a new found strength and endurance, she started shoving her way through the mob.

“I hear you and my pumpkin’ pie have gotten close.” Then his smile dropped. “Too close, if ya ask me.”

Y/N ignored him as another prisoner shoved into her shoulder.

“I don’t appreciate you putting ideas in her head!”

Y/N stopped, realizing she had miscalculated her escape and had come to a dead end.

So she slowly turned around to face him, putting her back to the wall. “And what ideas are those?”

“Independence. Self respect. A life beyond crime and incarceration,” he spat.

Y/N realized he had his goonies flanking him, only making her odds that much worse.

“Those aren’t ideas. They’re a reality, a possible future,” she defended.

Joker didn’t like that answer one bit. He threw himself against her, once again slamming Y/N into the wall.

He gripped her chin roughly and smiled with his yellow teeth. “You know…she’s not the only doctor I’d like to break in. And in more ways than one, if you catch my drift,” he giggled.

Then his eyes raked over her body, up and down. His hands slid down her hips and the side of her legs until they got to the hem of her pencil skirt.

Y/N shoved him away with all of her strength. 

But that earned her a slap across the face from him.

Joker gripped her waist tightly pressing her between the wall and his body. “I’m in charge now, doc. And I’ve got a few lessons to teach you.”

His hands grabbed at the buttons of her blouse and with one jerk, he ripped open her her blouse.

But before he could go any further, a few of his lackeys cried out in pain. 

Y/N swore she heard the sound of objects whipping through the darkness. 

She didn’t want to let herself feel any relief. But she hoped Harley had made her way back to her. She’d probably pack an even heavier punch once she realized Y/N needed protecting from her asshole ex.

But when Joker turned around and Y/N followed his gaze, Harley was nowhere to be found.

Yet three men were on the ground, unconscious.

“Well, well, well,” Joker muttered in amusement. “Has Batsy come out to play?”

Next thing Y/N saw was a shadow dropping down out of nowhere and taking out even more of Joker’s men.

Joker seemed to be prepared for such an interruption. Because he grabbed a knife from somewhere hidden on his body and ripped Y/N off the wall. He pressed Y/N’s back to his chest and put the tip of his knife to her throat.

“Come out, come out wherever you are,” Joker sang.

To Y/N’s shock, Batman stepped into what little light was in the hallway.

“Long time, no see!” Joker screamed so loudly that Y/N flinched. “Did you miss me, Batsy? And you came all this way to see little old me?! How very sweet!”

“Your attempted escape was a failure,” Batman stated. “There’s nowhere for you to go. All the exits are blocked. Arkham has been contained.”

“What a shame! I really felt this one was gonna work!” Joker laughed.

Batman took a step toward him. “It’s over, Joker.”

“You’re probably right,” Joker shrugged. “But I really wanted to have some fun with doc here. So, if you could give us some privacy.”

Batman’s eyes flickered to Y/N’s for a brief moment. “Let her go,” he warned.

“How about…no?” Joker laughed.

Just as Batman was about to make his move, Y/N grabbed the wrist of Joker’s arm that held the knife. She twisted it and dived in such a succinct motion that it was obvious Y/N had been trained.

Whipping herself out of Joker’s grip, she twisted Joker’s arm so roughly and quickly behind his back that he had no choice but to drop his knife from the pain.

Then Y/N was now facing him, and with one swift swing of her leg, she kicked him right in the groan.

Batman saw his opening and rushed forward, cuffing Joker in place.

While Batman neutralized him, Y/N stumbled for the knife that Joker had dropped, still not feeling safe and out of danger.

She looked around, realizing that the police had filtered in and apprehended all the escaped prisoners. Some were already locked back into their cells. Other’s were in handcuffs with guns being pointed at them in warning.

“Dr. Y/L/N,” his voice made her whip back around.

How the hell did Batman know her name?

She squinted wearily at him.

“You can drop the knife,” Batman told her quietly.

Y/N blinked and looked down at her hand, having forgotten that she even grabbed the knife. And she now had a vice-like grip on it.

Her hands were shaking when she dropped the knife and the clatter echoed in the hallway.

She eyed the Joker, not trusting any sort of weapon to be in his vicinity, despite being handcuffed now.

“He’s not going anywhere,” Batman noted, as if he could read her mind and hear the concerns she was thinking.

Police officers surrounded them now.

“Until next time, doc!” Joker sang loudly.

Batman stepped between him and Y/N, shielding her from even being seen by the lunatic.

Y/N eyed him, wondering if he did that on purpose.

“This way,” he directed lowly as he led her out of the hallway.

Y/N was surprised when he escorted her all the way out of the building.

Wasn’t this supposed to be Gotham’s Dark Knight? A disappearing act? An urban legend that some people still didn’t believe in?

When they got outside, there were even more officers. The night was flickering blue and red from all the patrol car’s lights still being on.

Commissioner Gordon was having a field day with Arkham’s warden, yelling at him about lack of protocol and no protection for the volunteers and workers that had gotten caught in the crossfire.

But finally, the reality of what just happened was starting to set in for Y/N. And she realized that her entire body was shaking.

All of a sudden, a blanket was wrapped around her shoulders.

She looked up to see that Batman had draped it over her. When and where he’d grabbed it, she had no clue. But the warmth was helping, so she didn’t question it.

“Thank you…for saving me back there.”

Was that a smirk on his lips? Was Batman amused by her?

Why was it so comforting when he was a mere stranger?

And his eyes, even when they were surrounded by a cowl and dark paint, they still felt familiar. Y/N had a similar feeling to deja vu.

“Looked like you had it handled,” he replied.

“Oh, I definitely didn’t. But thank god for those self-defense classes.”

They looked into each other’s eyes for a second.

“Make sure you get checked out by the paramedics,” he told her gently, but insistent.

It was far too gentle for his Batman alter ego. But she caught how it sounded like it personally mattered to him.

Y/N looked behind her, where the ambulance was.

But when she turned back around, Batman was gone.

Next thing Y/N knew, she was being surrounded by two paramedics and Commissioner Gordon who was careful not to push her by asking too many questions at once.

“Does he always do that?” She asked him in a daze.

“Do what?” Gordon asked.

“Disappear like that?”

Gordon smiled and nodded. “Annoying, isn’t it?”

———

“What’s the gossip of the privileged this week?” Bruce asked Alfred at breakfast a few days after the outbreak.

“Something specific you’re looking for, Master Wayne?” Alfred asked as he poured Bruce a big mug of coffee.

Bruce glared at him, knowing he was playing coy with him.

But he put his pride aside. “How is she doing?”

Alfred took pity on him. “She took some time off work. But seems to be handling it better than expected. Makes quite a bit of sense, doesn’t it? Her being psychiatrist and all.”

Bruce just nodded with a dazed look.

“You could always see for yourself…” Alfred added.

Bruce snapped out of his daze and looked up him questioningly.

“You could go see her,” Alfred confirmed.

“Alfred, don’t you start.”

“Start what, Master Wayne? Pushing you to form any sort of relationship?”

Bruce sighed and got up from the breakfast nook. He didn’t want to fight with him, so he’d made his exit before that happened.

“Batman has plenty of friends,” Alfred stopped him. “But what about Bruce Wayne, hmm? Who are his friends?”

“You saying we’re not friends, Alfred?”

“I’m all you’ve got, Master Wayne. And that’s my point.”

Before the discussion could go on any further, the doorbell rang.

The two men shared a look. 

No one stopped by the manor.

Alfred made his way over.

Bruce figured he’d wait where he was. But the front entrance was too far away from him to overhear any conversation.

A few minutes later, Alfred walked in with an unreadable expression.

“Dr. Y/L/N is here, Master Wayne. She is waiting for you in the drawing room.”

Bruce opened his mouth to tell him to make an excuse and get her to leave. But Alfred was already disappearing, making it clear that he would do no such thing for him.

When Bruce walked into the drawing room, he found Y/N’s back to him as she looked at the family heirlooms and trinkets that were displayed on the shelved.

She was dressed casually, which caught Bruce off guard since he’d only see her in formal wear and professional outfits since their reunion. Her hair was in a messy bun and she didn’t appear to be wearing much makeup, if any at all.

“Hi,” he greeted softly, making her quickly turn around.

“Hi,” she replied.

Bruce stepped further into the room. But neither of them moved to sit in any of the many seats that surrounded them.

“I heard what happened. How are you doing?” He asked.

She nodded and shrugged. “Alright.”

“I’m surprised to see you here,” Bruce admitted.

Y/N ignored his comment and her eyes went around the room. “I missed this place,” she thought aloud. Then her eyes fell back to his, softening. “I missed you.”

Bruce was taken aback from her confession. Seeing as the last time they were together, she was rather blunt about how disgusted and disappointed in him she was.

The energy between them felt so different than last time.

To his surprise, Y/N stepped toward him. And she didn’t stop until she was at a proximity that most would call rather intimate.

There was a voice in the back of Bruce’s mind, urging him to close the last bit of distance and place his lips on hers. But he managed to ignore it. That didn’t stop his heart from beating faster, though.

Y/N stared into his eyes for a few seconds, almost like she was searching for something.

“I have something that belongs to you…”

Bruce waited, not sure what she could possibly have to give him.

But then she pulled out one of his batarangs from her coat pocket, offering it to him.

She had found it embedded in the wall when she had gone back down to grab her personal belongings that night. 

Bruce kept his face composed. “I’m not sure I understand.” 

But he grabbed it from her anyways.

“He’s you,” she whispered. “Or I guess…you’re him.”

Bruce let out a breath, “Y/N…”

She took step away from him. “Don’t lie to me, Bruce.”

So he shut his mouth and said nothing instead.

“I’ve been doing some research. Things started lining up,” Y/N explained. “The first Batman sightings were right around when we stopped talking. The more Batman was in the press, the less Bruce Wayne was. And when he was, it was never positive – like it was meant to be a distraction.”

Her eyes went sad. “I never understood how the boy I used to love could grow into the man I’m so disappointed in. It never made sense.” She paused. “But when you wonder if the man himself is the mask, it all fits.”

“I’m sorry.” Bruce hung his head slightly. “I couldn’t tell anyone. Not even you.”

“I’d never share your secret.”

“I know,” he answered instantly.

Y/N couldn’t hold back her emotions any longer. Her eyes welled with tears. “Bruce…living like this has its consequences.”

Bruce said nothing.

She stepped forward and grabbed his hand. “You can’t change the world on your own. You don’t have to do this alone.”

Y/N wasn’t giving him advice. She was offering him something.  

Her trust.

Her secrecy.

Her love.

He shook his head, but gripped her hand tightly. “You would just end up in the shadows with me. And I…I can’t do that to you.”

“I’m stronger than you think,” Y/N defended.

“I’ve always known how strong you are, Y/N.” His jaw tightened at even the thought of being selfish. “You deserve more than what I can give. Gotham will always come first. That’s the sacrifice I made. That’s what is required. I can’t be what you need.”

Y/N studied his face, knowing that there would be no winning with him.

She nodded once, not even slightly hiding her heartbreak and disappointment.

Then she stepped closer and gave him a slow kiss on the cheek.

“It’s not a one time offer, Bruce.”

Bruce couldn’t move a muscle. He was rooted in place.

He heard Y/N have a short conversation with Alfred, then the door closed, and she was gone again.

———

Bruce Wayne was a fool.

Alfred could probably make a list, in seconds, with a hundred reasons why.

But, no, Bruce Wayne was a fool for believing Y/N would give up so easily.

Two weeks later, Y/N was at Wayne Manor again.

Bruce knew something was going on when Alfred didn’t seem surprised in the slightest.

In one of her arms was popcorn seeds, twizzlers, sour patch kids, and chocolate covered pretzels. In the other arm was a case of beer.

Y/N barely said hi to Bruce as Alfred helped her out of her coat and took the things out of her grasp so she was no longer struggling to hold it all.

“I’m here to use your theater,” she announced.

And with that, she walked right past Bruce like she owned the place.

Bruce looked at Alfred and silently asked, ‘What the hell is going on?’

“I believe you have a guest to entertain, Master Wayne.” Then he looked at the items in his hand. “And I believe I have some popcorn to make.”

Bruce still didn’t move.

“You successfully closed yet another case last night, it’s Friday night, and you have a beautiful woman who decided she wants to spend her time with you. Best you don’t keep her waiting, Master Wayne.”

Bruce narrowed his gaze as if telling Alfred they’d discuss this matter at another time.

“I presume you shouldn’t go empty handed,” Alfred added quickly and handed Bruce two beers from the case in his arms.

Bruce chuckled, but started walking away. “I’m surprised you even let this stuff in the house, Alfred.”

When Bruce reached the theater, Y/N had already started a movie.

He watched her a for a moment before she could realize he'd joined her. 

Y/N looked like she belonged there. Even after all this time apart, she just burrowed herself a cozy nook in Bruce’s life.

It was something she had been able to do even when they were kids. When Bruce had his mood swings or his depressive episodes, Y/N didn’t scare. She just found her way to stay at his side without upsetting him further.

Bruce grabbed the seat to the left of hers.

They weren’t really seats, more like small beds. A dozen were placed in the theater.

A couple could easily share one, but Bruce wasn’t planning on even approaching that fine line.

When Bruce sat down, he didn’t look at Y/N. But she gave a shy smile at his joining.

It was a long movie – almost a 3 hour run time.

And Y/N almost made it.

Without only 30 minutes left, Y/N had fallen asleep. Meaning Bruce’s attention was now taken from the movie.

He got up and grabbed one of the many blankets in the trunk hidden in the corner and placed it carefully over her, before silently leaving.

This was not a one time thing.

These type of visits continued.

Bruce knew Y/N and Alfred had to be in cahoots together. 

Y/N seemed to always come to the manor when Bruce needed her most. 

Alfred would force Bruce out of the cave and moments later, the doorbell would be ringing.

On the bad nights, she wouldn’t make him talk. She wouldn’t ask questions or try to make him magically feel better. Sometimes she would talk – mostly about mundane things. She’d tell Bruce about her day or how her neighbor always left baked goods at her door or about the new show she started watching. Sometimes she wouldn’t say anything at all, just sit there silently and make sure he wasn’t alone.

Sometimes she would bring coffee and pastries.

Sometimes Bruce would just walk into the library and find her reading.

Sometimes she would sit and chat with Alfred as if he was the reason she was visiting, and not Bruce.

Bruce couldn’t sleep one night. Nothing specific was causing his insomnia. Just the overall weight of being so many people.

It was 3AM when Y/N texted him to open the door for her because she didn’t want to wake Alfred.

When Bruce did so, Y/N was standing on the other door in sandals and a slightly transparent coverup that barely showed the outline of the bathing suit underneath.

He said nothing, but his face clearly showed that he wanted to know why the hell she was there in the middle of the night.

“Couldn’t sleep,” Y/N told him quietly. Then she shrugged a bit,“I decided I wanted to go for a swim."

Whether she was lying for his benefit, Bruce wasn’t sure. But he followed her to the indoor swimming pool like a sailor would follow a siren.

Without hesitation, Y/N kicked her sandals off and tossed her coverup on the nearest chair. And the next second, she was diving into the pool.

Bruce smirked at her nonchalance, but made sure to hide it when she breached the surface once again.

“Doesn’t your apartment building have its won pool?” He asked.

Y/N smiled and tilted her head back to get her hair wet again and out of her face. “They put too much chlorine in it.”

Bruce crossed his arms, “I see.”

“Coming in?” She asked teasingly.

He shook his head.

“At least keep me company,” she requested.

Bruce glared playfully at her, knowing the game she was playing.

But he finally sighed and nodded.

He was in cotton shorts and a t-shirt. But he decided to sit on the edge of the pool and dip his feet in.

He watched as she swam around, looking as natural in the water as a mermaid. She had always loved swimming as a kid and it appeared not much had changed.

“Why couldn’t you sleep?” He finally decided to break the silence.

Y/N swam to him and crossed her arms on the edge of the pool to rest and tilted her head to look at him.

She shrugged, “The usual: stress, nightmares, insomnia, too much caffeine.”

 Bruce’s concern spiked instantly. “Nightmares about what?”

She watched him for a moment, seeing how quickly her subtle comment triggered him.

“You’re not the only person who’s seen fucked up things, Bruce.”

An hour later, Y/N asked for a towel.

When she climbed out, she was taken aback by Bruce wrapping it around her shoulders and rubbing her down gently. It was innocent, but subtly intimate.

As their eyes locked for a prolonged time, and he seemed to realize what he’d done accidentally.

Y/N cleared her throat. “I should head home and let you try to get some sleep.”

“You could stay,” he offered. “I mean, we have plenty of bedrooms here,” he quickly added and saved himself a bit.

“Is that…what you want?” Y/N asked slowly.

Bruce knew what she was trying to ask. He didn’t trust himself to answer the way he should, so he didn’t answer.

“Let me drive you home,” he asked as they left the indoor pool and started toward the front entrance.

Y/N ignored the request until they were at the door. She turned to face him with a smug look, “I’m perfectly capable of driving myself. Thank you.”

She hesitated before kissing him on the cheek. “Get some sleep, Bruce.”

————

Months after Y/N’s visits started, Bruce was doing some research for a case on his tablet as he ate dinner.

“Margaret Caulfield’s engagement party is tonight,” Alfred broke the silence of the manor as he took Bruce’s finished plate.

Bruce looked confused on why he was supposed to care.

“Y/N will be there,” Alfred added.

But Bruce still didn’t understand what he was trying to say.

“Master Wayne, when you attend all those sufferable parties, what is the first question people ask you?”

Bruce thought for a moment. “When I plan on settling down, I guess.”

“Now imagine that, but magnified by about 100…and that is what Y/N’s experience is at those same parties. That young woman is one of the brightest people in Gotham and all those people care about is who will put a silly ring on her finger.”

Bruce leaned back in his chair, now understanding what Alfred was getting at. “I’m not her boyfriend, Alfred.”

“And you’ve made damn sure of that,” Alfred said a little too harshly.

Bruce watched him carefully.

“Y/N has fought off every one of your attempts to be a miserable recluse.”

Bruce opened his mouth.

“And don’t you dare try and tell me her efforts are wasted,” Alfred cut him off. “I’ve seen a change in you. And she has asked for absolutely nothing in return. She’d never ask you to pick her over Batman. Though she bloody well should!”

He wasn’t done.

“You’re not living, Master Wayne. And I won’t apologize for wanting more for you.”

Bruce just sat there and took it.

Alfred took in a breath, calming himself down. “There’s a suit waiting for you in your bedroom. I’ve decided I’m going for a evening walk.”

——————

Y/N didn’t know how many more champagnes she’d have to shrug to start feeling the buzz she so desperately needed.

Not even an hour of being at the party and she’s already been asked 15 times if she was seeing anyone. And when she answered no, half of those ended in them trying to set her up with someone.

As Y/N was trying to think of an excuse to escape, an old family friend approached her – a friend of her grandma’s unfortunately.

“Y/N, dear, let me see those hands!”

Y/N wanted to roll her eyes and snap, but she did as requested.

“No ring yet,” the woman teased, but she was also genuinely disappointed.

“That would be my fault, actually.” A voice said behind Y/N before she felt a hand on her lower back.

“Oh, Mr. Wayne, how nice of you to come!” The woman beamed. “Now, Y/N, why wouldn’t you tell anyone that you and Bruce are an item?”

“My fault again,” Bruce chuckled, “I’ve always enjoyed a good secret.”

Before she could ask more, Bruce smiled politely. “If you could excuse us for a moment.”

He steered Y/N to a private area of the party.

“What are you doing?” Y/N hissed at him. “The press are gonna have a field day. You and I will be every headline tomorrow.”

He smiled at her frantic concern.

“Why are you looking at me like that? I’m serious!”

Bruce captured her lips, silencing any further panic from her.

Y/N was completely caught off guard, but he wasn’t letting her go so easily. And soon, her hand went to the back of his head and she kissed him back. 

Damn all the people who were probably watching them.

When Bruce finally let her pull away, he smirked at her dazed look and cupped her cheek. 

She matched his smirk.

But then reality set in like a splash of cold water and she frowned.

“Am I – Is this your new cover?” She asked shakily, so scared that the answer was ‘yes.’

She could tolerate being Bruce’s friend for the rest of her life. But she wouldn’t survive being used in such a way. She couldn’t live in a fake relationship with a man she actually loved. She’d rather watch his sloppy persona with girls hanging off of him.

“No cover-up,” he muttered to her. “Just me and you – the real me.”

-----------------------------------------------------

I worked so hard on this 😩  Please let me know your thoughts. 

[boldlyvoid]

Amoreena | chapter one

summary: Heaven is a real place and it's located exactly 14.6 miles away from the FBI, Quantico Headquarters. Off behind a small park, under a fantastical willow tree surrounded by wildflowers, in every colour young minds can imagine.

Don't forget, heaven also comes with angels.

Warnings: fluff, hurt/comfort, depressed spencer, reader has a daughter, falling in love, strangers to lovers

word count: 3,147

Read on Ao3

There’s this small, tiny part, of Spencer that wants to run away.

He’s always felt like he’s never truly been home, a never-ending and long yearning, a homesickness for a place he didn't even know, eating him alive day by day. It made him want to drop everything and buy a cottage in the woods, to fill it with books and coffee and never see another person again.

It got worse after prison and after his mom asked to go back into a care facility, it hurt the most when Penelope left the FBI and things with Max fizzled out. Then he was really, truly alone again. His apartment felt cold and uninviting, the BAU felt like a chore, using his brain for anything other than taking care of himself was extremely hard.

He needed a break.

So when he walked out of work and straight to his favourite park for an escape, he wasn’t surprised that he didn’t stop walking. Going further and further down the trail, following the dirt path towards a pond, covered by a beautiful willow tree and surrounded by pink, purple, yellow and white flowers. The contrast of the green grass with the colourful flowers, the blue sky and the light green willow tree reflection dancing on the surface of the pond. It was like he walked into Eden, taking a seat by the tree and picking a book from his satchel.

For the rest of the week, it’s his own little sanctuary, escaping desk work and home cases as fast as he could. Even then it wasn't enough and he started going every afternoon, he’d sneak out for an hour and just relax. Reading his book, feeling the breeze on his face, the sound of ducks and frogs competing with the crickets for loudest being in the area. Eventually bringing his bike on the subway to work so he could get there faster.

It was beautiful.

Almost as beautiful as what he walked in on when he arrived Saturday afternoon. Parking his bike by the tree, looking at them carefully as he took his satchel off his shoulders and placed it by the trunk. Craning his neck so he could look at who it was, seeing the purest display of human affection known to man.

A mother and her daughter were having a picnic, dressed up like Miss Honey and Matilda as they had lemonade and snacks, spread out on a blanket as the mother handed her a sandwich wrapped in checkered red wax paper.

Spencer was in awe, sitting on the other side of the pond by a second tree, pretending to read when really he was glancing at them. Their laugher filling the field, bouncing around the trees and filling his chest with warmth.

It reminded him of all the afternoons with his own mother. His head in her lap, the sound of her voice as she shared worlds wisdom with him. He missed childhood, freedom, hope. The will to continue…

When the little girl finally notices that they’re not alone in this little world she’s creating, he sees her tug on her moms shirt, asking her a question before cheering. She picks something out of the basket and comes running towards Spencer.

“Excuse me, sir?” Her sweet little voice asks. “Are you an archeologist or a palaeontologist?��

It makes him laugh slightly, a large smile erupting on his face as he pushes his glasses up and puts the book down. “No sorry, I’m not, what made you think I was?”

“You have a satchel and glasses like Milo from Atlantis, but you have a dinosaur on your tie, you look like you work at a museum,” she rambled all her thoughts out, much like he did as a child.

“I’m actually an FBI agent,” he whispered.

“Wow,” she whispered back in amazement, “are you like a knight? Do you save princesses?”

“I do," he nodded enthusiastically, "do you know any in need?”

“Her,” she pointed. “I’m Lady Amoreena, the Princess over there says I was a gift to the kingdom but that she’ll never need a prince or king to take care of us, but I think a knight would work!”

He laughed lightly, seeing her mom shake her head as she overheard it, covering her face with her hand, she looked embarrassed.

“It’s nice to meet you, Lady Amoreena,” he put his hand out to shake her’s as soft as possible, noticing the cookie in her hand. “My name is Dr. Spencer Reid,” he added softly.

“Would you like a cookie?”

He smiled as she placed it in his hand, “thank you.”

“Do you like Matilda?”

“It’s one of my favourite books,” he smiles.

“Do you want to have some lemonade and read with us?” Her face lit up, turning back to where her mother was watching from the pond.

“It’s okay, thank you for offering,” not wanting to intrude on their moment.

“We need a voice for Matilda’s father, please?” She begged, overly sweet and incredibly convincing.

“Alright, but I’m warning you if I upstage the princess with my awesome voices, it’s not my fault,” he smiled as he stood up, grabbing his things and starting to follow her over to the blanket.

She took his hand and tugged him along the edge of the pond, dragging him right to were her mother was sitting on the ground.

“I’m sorry,” she apologized softly as he sat down. “She’s very persistent about making new friends. We don’t see many people on this side of the park.”

“It’s fine, honestly, I’m Dr. Spencer Reid, by the way,” he introduced himself. “I work with the FBI, normally I’d advice women and their children to avoid strange men they don’t know when they’re alone in the woods like this.”

She laughed slightly, “Y/N Y/L/N, I’m the head librarian at the DC library, and you don’t seem that strange.”

“Neither did Bundy,” he tried to joke, knowing she got it and trusted him when she bit back a smile, eyes twinkling at him in the sunlight.

“My name is Amoreena, like the Elton John song,” her daughter cut in, noticing how they were staring at each other and trying to get the attention instead.

“It’s a beautiful song, no wonder you love it here,” Spencer smiled at her, “do you come here often?”

She nodded, a blush flowing through her freckled cheeks, “have you ever read Tuck Everlasting? The pond here can make you young forever,” her whisper was the cutest thing. She was so full of life, personality and joy.

“I have, you’re right this feels a lot like the field from the book, what other books do you like?”

“I love books,” she lays back against the blanket ever so dramatically. “Matilda, Anne of Green Gables, Beauty and the Beast, I love every story that ends with true love and happiness, and cats.”

He couldn’t help but laugh at her explanation, knowing that feeling all too well. “I have read almost every book ever, more than the entire DC library probably."

“We dress up every week for what ever book we are reading, next week is Peter Pan if you’d like to join us? We’re here every Saturday at 11,” Y/N offered.

“You haven’t even heard me read Matilda from memory and you’re already asking me to come back?” Spencer smirked as their faces lit up.

“No way, prove it!” Amoreena shouted, shoving him lightly to encourage him to start.

“The Reader of Books,” he began, seeing the pages in his mind as he repeated the words. “It's a funny thing about mothers and fathers. Even when their own child is the most disgusting little blister you could ever imagine, they still think that he or she is wonderful.”

“Okay so you know the beginning,” Y/N teased, opening the book to a random page, “what's on page 32?”

"My name is Jennifer Honey," Miss Honey said. "How do you do, Mrs. Wormwood." Mrs. Wormwood glared at her and said, "What's the trouble then?" Nobody invited Miss Honey to sit down so she chose a chair and sat down anyway. "This", she said, "was your daughter's first day at school." "We know that," Mrs Wormwood said, ratty about missing her programme. "Is that all you came to tell us?" Miss Honey stared hard into the other woman's wet grey eyes, and she allowed the silence to hang in the air until Mrs. Wormwood became uncomfortable. "Do you wish me to explain why I came?" she said.

Amoreena thought it was the coolest thing ever, reading the page and jumping up and down when he was correct, “how did you do that?”

“I can remember every word I’ve ever read, I have a pretty interesting brain,” he explained it as overdramatic as he could, knowing she would find it magical.

“You’re so cool!” She swooned, dropping back against the blanket just as dramatically.

Y/N was all smiles, running her fingers through Amoreena’s hair and giggling slightly at the sight of her silly child. “Spencer, would you like to do the honours today?”

She handed him the book, knowing he didn’t need it. He gently opened it, starting on the first page and starting to read it the way his mother would. Bringing out voices, hand gestures, all the bells and whistles.

They were in the field together until the sun started to set, casting a purple and orange glow over the pond. Amoreena was resting in Y/N’s arms, legs extended over Spencer’s lap as they sat close. It was the most perfect Saturday he has had in a long time. Probably the best day of his life, actually.

“Matilda leapt into Miss Honey's arms and hugged her, and Miss Honey hugged her back, and then the mother and father and brother were inside the car and the car was pulling away with the tyres screaming. The brother gave a wave through the rear window, but the other two didn't even look back. Miss Honey was still hugging the tiny girl in her arms and neither of them said a word as they stood there watching the big black car tearing round the corner at the end of the road and disappearing for ever into the distance. The end.”

He closed the book softly, setting it down on the blanket and looking at them softly, “am I still invited next week?”

“Absolutely,” Y/N smiled, “I’m dressing as Tinker Bell, Amoreena will be Peter Pan, and you can be anyone else of your choosing.”

“I’ll keep it a surprise until next week,” Spencer smiled right back.

Amoreena crawled out of Y/N’s lap and leapt into Spencer’s arms, hugging him tightly in her small arms. “That was the best story ever, thank you!”

Everything in the world felt right then, hugging her back while he smiled at her mother. Y/N had a hand over her heart as she swooned, watching her daughter bond with the man who just happened to wander into their picnic.

“Can I get your number?” Y/N asked softly, “you know, so we can arrange outfits and stories as the week's pass.” She shrugged, licking her lips slightly as she blushed.

“Of course, I’m not on duty for the rest of the month, so if you wanted to go to a museum or anything, I’m free? Since I look so much like I should work there,” he teased Amoreena.

“I’m sure lovey would like that?” Y/N leaned over Amoreena’s shoulder, holding her around her waist and tickling her softly.

Lovey

It was a nickname that made perfect sense in his mind. Amoreena, the keyword being Amore, to love. She was very loveable, incredibly vibrant and full of innocence, a life that was full of possibilities, wonderful like her mother.

“We’re going to the Smithsonian tomorrow to see the Dino’s,” Amoreena’s face lit up. “Do you know anything about them?”

“Surprisingly enough, while I’m not a paleontologist, I know a lot about dinosaurs, and I might have some connections there to see the rare ones,” he exaggerated his voice again, watching her get so excited she started to run around with her arms in the air.

“You don’t have to if you’re busy,” she says softly when Amoreena is far enough away, picking flowers as she ran around.

“I’d love to, actually, thank you,” he whispers towards Y/N. “I haven’t been having the greatest week.”

“Is it okay for me to ask what you do?” She asked, just as softly as Amoreena kept running around the field.

“I’m a profiler, I consult on intense cases.”

“The strange man comment makes more sense now,” she smiled. “we’re looking for a literary historian at the library right now, I’m sure remembering every word in every book would get you hired, you know if you wanted to switch careers for something easier on your soul?”

“I have been thinking of leaving, in all honesty, I’ve actually been having more of a rough 15 years,” he tries to laugh but he just feels frustrated. “It’s been really hard.”

“For everything you see, you’re still a very sweet man, not many people would sit down and occupy his time with an autistic 7-year-old,” she complimented him with a smile, sharing something personal in a way that would fit right into the conversation and not make a big deal. “We really did enjoy your company today.”

He handed her a business card from his pocket, feeling a bit overwhelmed and emotional as he handed it to her, “I've had a wonderful time. I'm also autistic, I know what it's like to want to share the world while no one wants to listen, thank you for letting me join you. Let me know what time you’re going to the museum tomorrow and I will be there.”

Y/N’s face lit up once more, reading the card over before sliding it into her bag. “Do you want a PB&J or a ham and cheese sandwich for lunch tomorrow?”

“PB&J is a great museum lunch,” he bit his lip so he’d stop smiling, it was beginning to feel embarrassing with how much he liked her already. Not used to random kindness from smart and beautiful women.

Amoreena came running back then, handing Spencer a handful of flowers upon her arrival. “For you, Sir Knight,” she bowed as he took them.

“I bid you a good day, my fair ladies,” Spencer plaid along, standing to curtsy back.

“We’ll see you tomorrow then?” Y/N asked from the blanket as Amoreena dove into her arms.

“I wouldn’t miss it for the world,” Spencer smiled one last time.

“Bye Spencer!!” Amoreena cheered as he waved, walking back down the path towards the main park entrance.

With his satchel draped over his shoulder, he pushed his sleeves up as he walked towards his bike, overwhelmed by the feeling of joy still swirling in his blood. Peddling his way down the path with a smile on his face, excited to get home and plan for the Smithsonian tomorrow, he was an excellent tour guide.

And he did actually have some connections.

Calling the museum curator, an old friend from years ago who owed him a favour. Asking if there was any way he could show his friend and her kid around the un-displayed dinosaurs and fossils, of course she said yes. People seemed to do anything for Dr. Reid of the FBI.

He thought about her job offer then as he hung up, reaching the train station finally and making his way back to his sad apartment. It would be nice to change things up for a bit, it’s not like he couldn’t go back to the FBI in 20 years like Rossi did.

15 years in the field and a metric fuck ton of trauma later, he was officially fed up. Opening his computer the second he got home, writing his 2 weeks notice to be forwarded to Mateo Cruz.

—

He woke up with excitement, for the first time in years.

Well, at first he was happy, then he thought about it too long. Despair creeping in, it was truly sad to think that he’s been sad for so long, desperately needing the happiness Y/N and Amoreena brought to his life.

Like when he spent time around Henry or Hank, there was something so rewarding about witnessing a child see something for the first time. Explaining the world to them, seeing their eyes widen as they enjoyed the world around them.

It was the best thing someone could do, spending the day living with the happiness of a child.

Y/N had texted him right as he woke up, the chime of a new message actually making him smile instead of panic.

Y/N: hey smartie pants, we’re thinking 11 am today. Can we meet you out front?”

Spencer: sure! You should start preparing to hear me ramble all day long. Also my I suggest bringing proper shoes for lots of walking and a backpack for the things Amoreena will get to bring home!

Y/N: oh you weren’t kidding about those connections huh?

Spencer: nope!

Y/N: well, can’t wait to see what you have in store for us! (And to hear your voice all day ♥︎)

It made his heart swell, he could swear it grew three sizes as it pushed against his ribs. Trying to break free from him and run to her, he hadn’t felt this strongly about another person in a very long time.

It wasn’t lust, it wasn’t greed, it wasn’t desperation. He didn’t just want to sleep with her or use her to fill his time, she wasn’t just another friend to occupy his days and talk to when he had to, she was special. She was interesting, she was kind, she was beautiful, she reminded him of his own mother in a strange way that made him fear Fraud was right.

He found a comfort in her that felt a little like home, like all his running led him to her. She was the end of the finish line, the cold glass of water, the euphoric pride of a job well done. She was everything good wrapped up in a beautiful bow and he was gone.

Feeling like he did when he met Ethan, Derek, or Elle for the first time, even Maeve when they were just talking on the phone, that butterfly feeling that excited him to try something new.

Y/N made him believe in possibilities again.

It felt nice to look ahead, to dream and wish of the future and not see death and destruction. Instead, dreaming of them running through the fields, flowers dancing everywhere as they hear Amoreena’s laughter. It’s how life is supposed to be.

[dizzydancingdreamer]

Bubblegum Princess, Cherry Angel | Kai Parker

Hello my lovelies! 2020 is almost over, can you believe it? I sure as hell can’t! I have no idea what inspired this, I truly don’t, but it seemed only fitting to end this year off with a raunchy round of sex! Because why the fuck not! I hope you all have a safe and wonderful new years, and I can’t wait to see you all in 2021! Please enjoy loves!

Description: He smells her bubblegum lip gloss and then wonders how on earth he managed to convince an angel to let him fuck her into next week, let alone get in his truck. 

Pairing: Kai Parker x Female!Reader

Warnings: THIS IS AN 18+ FIC ONLY!! Smut (terribly written smut is more accurate), nothing more than the usual but, like, it is like 7000 words of pure sex so read at your own risk

Word count: 9.2k

Tags: SMUT, FLUFF

The four hours in which it took two people to find magic within each other, all thanks to one tube of drugstore, bubblegum lip gloss. 

Hour One

Her bubblegum lip gloss attacks him from all the way across the café, cutting cleanly through the aroma of coffee and donuts and sending his heart racing at the obscenely sweet scent. He should hate it. No, scratch that, he shouldn’t think anything of it at all. It’s not in his nature to enjoy things- or to feel things at all, to be frank- but he can’t help it. The drugstore brand, wildly over-scented balm makes his head fuzzy like nothing else. 

Kai watches as she pours over the book in front of her, tilting his head when she scrunches her nose. She murmurs something inaudible, tapping a pen to her lip a couple times. One tap, two taps, three taps. Each time that pen touches her lip he grows more envious, his heart now very much in his throat. Does the pen know her lips taste like candy? Does it at least have the courtesy to enjoy it? He releases a breath when she finally writes something down, leaving her mouth alone. 

He forces his eyes away from her and back to his own coffee. Well, the term coffee should only be loosely used here; it’s more sugar and cream than actual coffee. The sweet syrup warms his chest as he takes a sip, lighting his taste buds on fire. Maybe this is what her lips taste like. He shakes his head to clear her face from his mind- a task much more impossible than one might think- before setting the mug down and turning to the device between his fingers. A cell phone. 

Kai presses the ‘on’ button, his eyes lighting up with the screen. Damon had handed it- the cell phone- to him a few days ago, muttering something about leaving the 80’s in the past where it belongs, and told him to get used to it. A little apple symbol appears and he scrunches his eyebrows. Is that supposed to be there? It disappears, replaced now by a picture of the forest he took a couple days ago. That’s better. He swipes past the lockscreen, coming to a page of little square pictures. Damon said those are called apps.

He clicks on one with a little bird- Twitter, he thinks it’s called- and opens it, scrolling a little sloppily through the page. He comes across a picture, one with a man holding a guitar, and stops to look at it for a minute. It looks like someone he used to know and he clicks on the picture to check. That looks like the same birthmark and he kind of remembers the guitar- 

All of a sudden the picture starts moving and music starts blaring from the phone, filling the quiet café with an obnoxious twang. It startles Kai, his heart jumping and his cheeks much too hot, and he drops the phone on the table, a sharp bang now joining the music. He grabs at his phone frantically, feeling all the stares that are now on him as he blindly searches for the ‘off’ button and sighing in relief when the screen goes black once more. Cell phones are awful, he decides in the moment. 

Kai hears soft giggles as his shoulders sag, the same bubblegum fragrance tickling his senses. The musical laughter and the sugary gloss are a lethal combination, one that taunts his senses and consumes him whole. The giggles echo in his ears, invading his head and bouncing around every nerve. He turns towards the sound- he doesn’t have a choice- and his eyes meet the girl, zeroing in on her glossy lips now wrapped around the end of her pen. He takes in her face, every curve and edge, before landing on her eyes and promptly losing his breath. Does she know she’s the prettiest woman he’s ever seen?

He smiles at her and rolls his eyes in what he can only hope is a playful way, holding up the phone and shrugging his shoulders. Her eyes draw over his face and down his arm, trailing fire over him with her very gaze before landing on the estranged device. She giggles again and Kai wishes he could grab the sound out of the air and pocket it. Is that normal? He bites his cheek as she looks back to her book, the pen still between her sweet lips. He doesn’t bother trying to answer the question; he doesn’t care. 

He clicks the phone once more, this time simply to check the time. A quarter to five. He glances back at the woman, his eyes widening as she slips her book into the leather bag hanging off her chair. Shit, she’s leaving. He stands quickly, shoving his phone in his pocket and slapping a five dollar bill on the table. When he looks up again she’s at the door, her bubble gum aroma fading as she clears the threshold. He shrugs his jacket on, racing out the door to catch up with her.

The cold air bites his skin as soon as steps onto main street, his eyes scanning for the pretty girl with the worn satchel and voice like a siren. He spots her halfway down the square and doesn’t think for a moment before jogging to meet her, his chest a mess of warmth and butterflies. Her head is down, lost in the sound of her heels against the pavement and quite oblivious to the love struck puppy chasing after her. It seems that only a bark will catch her attention now.

“Hey, wait up,” Kai calls, his heart screaming in his chest, “you forgot something.”

He’s a few feet away from her now and her bubblegum scent has morphed into the sweetest mixture of maraschino cherries and candy and every, little, perfect thing he’s ever experienced. It makes his mouth water and his cheeks flush, two things which are only intensified when she turns around and her eyes light up, a soft smile taking over her supple lips. 

She tilts her head at him, pulling her bottom lip between her teeth, “I did?”

He almost can’t answer, the cheesy line he had already lined up on his tongue melting away at the sound of her angelic voice. Two words. Two little words and she has him completely wrapped around her perfect finger. He doesn’t understand the feeling in his chest, the way her voice makes him feel like he’s breathing for the first time in his entire life, but he doesn’t care. That’s a recurring theme with this girl.

A grin spreads across his face, his stomach twisting as he finds his words once more, “you did,” he nods, taking half a step towards her. “You forgot to let me buy you dinner.”

Her face lights up even further as she throws a hand over her lips, her giggles once more flooding his body with tingles. She looks like an angel, the way her eyes close slightly when she laughs. She must know what she’s doing to him, how when she throws her head and her neck curves against the setting sun his entire body goes stiff. His fingers squeeze at his sides, wanting nothing more than to trace over her soft skin. What is going on?

“How silly of me,” she murmurs, her pretty eyes- yes that’s all he can think, that they are the most pretty eyes he’s ever seen- dancing over his face, “how could I possibly forget to let a man- whose name I don’t know- ask me to dinner?”

His cheeks flare with heat but he can’t wipe the adoring smile off his lips, “where are my manners? I’m Kai,” her takes her hand, pulling it to his lips and stealing a few more of those delicious giggles from her throat, “and I would really like to buy you dinner.”

She hums appreciatively, a wide smile on her lips. His heart flutters rapidly when she twists her fingers into his, running her thumb over his. Every part of her is soft- gentle- and he would give anything in that moment to be able to pull her into his arms. That isn’t normal, though, he knows that much. 

“Kai,” she tests his name on her tongue and his heart stops, his whole being screaming at him to beg her to say it again and again, “I like that. I’m y/n,” she supplies and the name clicks into his chest like a missing puzzle piece as she continues on her little ramble, “Kai.” She tilts her head, her eyes clouded over in thought, “something is missing, though. Is that your full name?”

His eyes widen, his chest flooding with dread at her soft inquiry, “no, actually. It’s Malachai,” he winces slightly as it rolls off his tongue- he always has hated that name- watching her closely for the moment she recoils in disgust, “I know, what were my parents thinking right? I sound like a villain-”

“I like it better,” she interrupts, her eyes catching his and her hand squeezing a tad harder, “it suits you. Malachai.” This time when she says his name he has to swallow the lump in his throat, his stomach tensing, “tell me, Malachai, do you like pizza?”

Hour Two

Her heart pounds hard in her chest as she sits in the booth across from him, his chocolate and honey scent still clinging desperately to her hand. She brushes an invisible strand of hair from her face, using the excuse to breathe him in again. He’s intoxicating, she muses to herself. Does he know he’s the most handsome man she’s ever seen? He smiles at her, his grin tugging at his red lips and sending her heart even further into overdrive. He must know.

“I hope this place has good pizza,” Kai laughs, the sound like heaven to her ears, “I haven’t actually tried it yet. If it’s awful I give you full permission to hate me.

She laughs as well- she can’t help it, she never giggles this much but he around him it’s impossible to not- pressing her hand to her mouth, “you’re lucky then; you chose my favourite restaurant. I always make sure to stop by the grill when I’m home. The pizza here is wonderful.”

That’s what she says. The pizza is wonderful. What she wants to say is that she doesn’t think she could ever hate him. That five minutes under his gaze, listening to his smooth voice and honeyed laugh, is enough to have her completely spellbound. That she’s almost certain by the time an hour passes she’ll forget every other boy she’s ever laid eyes on. What she wants to say is that she thinks he’s wonderful. But that’s not normal- not proper- so she just smiles at him.

He tilts his head, his eyes skimming over her face in a way that makes her cheeks warm, “when you’re home?”

She nods, trying to ignore the way he leans towards her slightly and how it makes her blood pump harder, “I go to school out of town. Not too far away but far enough that I have to live on campus. I actually have to head back tonight,” her heart stings for a moment, thinking about how she only just met him and now she has to leave, “I was only here for a day.”

“So I only have a few hours,” he hums, his smile like a bullet straight to her heart, “I think that’s enough time.”

His fingers slide slowly across the table, his pinky skimming her hand. It’s the simplest of touches- just a brush of his skin against hers- but it’s like she can feel all of him through it. She can feel his hands skimming her body, every inch of it, in intricate detail, as if she’s been in this very moment before and her muscles can recall each of his. It only increases when he grins, no doubt catching the way she sucks in a breath. The sinful twist of his lips strikes something in her. She has felt those lips on her, perhaps not in this life but definitely in another. She can feel it.

She’s breathless, the phantom feeling of his mouth on hers consuming her completely even as she speaks, “enough time for what?”

He slips his fingers between hers and she sighs, the feeling of their hands fitting so perfectly together overwhelming, “enough time to make you fall in love with me, obviously.”

Her mouth falls open and he laughs again, pulling her arm across the table and kissing her knuckles once more. Too late, she wants to scream, you don’t need an hour. She pulls her bottom lip between her lip, artificial bubblegum bursting across her tongue. His lips on her skin is too much; too much and not enough all at the same time. How is that even possible? 

She doesn’t need to ask herself the question again. No, this isn’t normal. Nothing about how she feels right now is normal. Not the way she wants to wrap her arms around Kai, not the way she feels like she knows him already, and especially not how she’s dreading leaving this town when normally she wants to run as far away from it as possible. The most not-normal thing about it all, though, is the way she wants to tell him each and every one of those things. She wants to grab his face, run her fingers through his gorgeous hair, and tell him everything she’s feeling right now.

But she can’t so instead she whispers, “what if I make you fall in love first, Malachai?”

Kai squeezes her hand tighter, his legs tangling with hers under the booth. His lips part, his tongue darting out and wetting his lips. Her heart hammers in her chest as she watches, ridiculously jealous at the notion of not getting to taste him in the same way. Her body floods with heat when his eyes twinkle, a response dancing on the very same, traitorous tongue, but before he can answer their waiter arrives, setting down a large pizza and turning to face her. He has blonde hair and an easy smile, one that would send most girls reeling. Matt Donovan. She remembers him from high school; he was a good kid but they never really ran in the same social circles. She doesn’t regret not knowing him, his group is part of the reason she left this town.

“Alright, one pizza. Is there anything else I can get for you,” he smiles at her and her heart doesn’t hammer anymore, it slows.

She tightens her fingers around Kai’s, her voice less melodic than moments ago, “no, this is great thank you.”

Matt nods, stalling a moment and smiling at her. She can feel Kai tense, his legs stilling against her own. Her eyes dart between the two and she catches the way his eyes narrow at the blonde, his head tilting as if calculating what he should do. His chocolate scent increases, if that’s even possible, wrapping around her like a blanket as he sits up straighter. Matt doesn’t even look at him, his eyes focussed on her and her alone.

“You sure I can’t get you anything else?”

She nods but before she can speak Kai answers, his voice clipped but a smile on his lips regardless, “actually,” his eyes lower to the nametag on Matt’s chest, “Matt, we’d love a box.”

Matt’s eyebrows scrunch and she giggles, a tad confused but deeply invested in the cruel twang to Kai’s voice. She meets his eyes, pulling her lip once more between her teeth and swallowing her heart that has crawled it’s way into her throat. Something about the way he’s holding himself- the way he taunts the boy she went to school with only a few years ago- makes her feel alive. Who would have thought that the bubblegum princess would get such a thrill from watching the devil go head to head with the boy next door? 

“A box?” she has to stifle another giggle, not wanting to appear rude despite how much joy she’s feeling.

Kai nods, “please, and the check. We really should get going now.”

Her heart thrums, wondering what on earth he’s up to. She doesn’t care. It’s starting to become a recurring theme with this boy; how little she cares about anything but being in his presence. Each second that passes she falls deeper into something she can’t explain. Her heart jumps when Kai’s eyes meet hers, his smile softening from the malicious grin that he had been aiming at Matt. She shakes her head lightly, nudging his foot under the table and rubbing her calf against his. 

“Alrighty,” Matt grumbles, “I’ll get that for you right now.”

She watches as he walks away, turning back to the man across from her with a grin on her glossy lips, “how am I supposed to fall in love with you when you don’t even feed me?” 

He laughs, tugging her hand to his mouth. She’s starting to think that her hand belongs there, pressed against his lips for eternity. Every time his lips swipe across her knuckles she swoons, sparks tingling up her arm. If his lips feel this good against her hand then they must feel even better- no, nevermind that. 

“You can eat in the car,” he suggests, his eyes searching hers as he draws another knuckle to his mouth and nipping lightly with his teeth. 

The feeling of his teeth scraping against her skin sends her reeling, a shiver racing up her spine as she registers his words. In the car. She presses her lips together. What does that mean?

“Malachai?”

“Let me drive you back to school.”

Hour Three

Kai watches her steal the last piece of pizza and laughs, tossing the box into the back of his truck and pulling her closer on the bench seat. She tangles her fingers through his free hand and his heart explodes in his chest. His eyes lock on the road again but his thoughts are stuck on the beautiful girl beside him whose hands are wrapped around his arm. She clings to him, her bubblegum and cherry and just plain irresistible scent invading his senses. She leans her head against his shoulder, rubbing her cheek against his jacket, and he forgets that she hasn’t been in his life more than three hours. 

They’ve been driving for an hour, laughing and talking as the sun set. She’s told him about her major, about the books she reads and her parents. She’s spouted all the lines of her favourite movies and listed her favourite cities in order even though she’s only been to a couple. He, in turn, has told her about his favourite song. He told her about the time he broke his leg and how he isn’t usually like this. How he’s never like this. She agreed with that, taking the opportunity to tell him how focussed she usually is. He didn’t mind when she spoke over him. Had it been anyone else he would have but he could listen to her talk for ages. She makes hours feel like minutes- like seconds- and every sign they pass he gets more and more desperate. He doesn’t want to leave her. He wants more of the minute-like hours.

“What’s your favourite color,” she mumbles, running her nose over his arm.

He’s never understood why people care about favourite colors. It’s just so trivial, the answer always changing, that it’s never made sense to him. Is it possible to have a favourite color? He doesn’t think so. For some reason though, when she asks him and her voice goes high at the end of the question- as if she’s truly dying to know his favourite color- his heart stammers, not wanting to mess up the answer. He glances at her, his eyes finding her bubblegum cherry lips. Maybe he has a favourite color after all.

“Red,” Kai responds, running his thumb over her wrist and smiling when she shivers against him, “my favourite color is red.”

She hums appreciatively, her voice bouncing around the cab of his truck, “I like red too. It’s not my favourite though.”

Her fingers untangle from his, her hand landing on his thigh, using him for balance as she tucks her legs underneath her. Kai sucks in a breath at her touch, a tingle shooting up his spine. Her innocent eyes peer into his, no doubt still thinking about colors without a care in the world. His mind, on the other hand, couldn’t be further away from the color wheel. 

“Why’s that,” he forces out, his voice gravelly, “what’s your favourite color?”

“Black,” she answers and for a moment he doesn’t think about her hand still curled around his thigh, “I think I like the color black.”

He scrunches his eyebrows. Black. He wouldn’t have pegged her for a dark colors kind of girl. Every part of her screams light. Goodness. She seems like the type of girl who likes laying in the sun and eating ice cream on hot days and filling the bath with more bubbles than water. No, she doesn’t seem like she is; he knows she is. He doesn’t have to ask her to know that she is the complete opposite of him. 

Kai can’t stop himself from asking, “why the color black?”

She moves her hand back to his arm, wrapping both of her arms around his, and he lets out a sigh of relief. Well, relief mixed with frustration. He didn’t want her hand gone, he wanted it higher. He’ll take her wrapped around him though, it’s just as good. It’s better. He can think of a hundred different ways he would like this woman wrapped around him. 

She presses her lips to his shoulder and he wishes the stupid jacket would just burn, “because it suits you. I didn’t think I liked it before today but now I think there’s something beautiful about it.”

Kai’s hand finds her thigh, his heart pounding fiercely, “the color?”

She gasps lightly when he squeezes, a sound that hits him straight in the gut. He does it again, this time harder, and she presses her forehead against his shoulder, her soft moan tumbling against him. His hand tightens on the steering wheel at the sound. He has no idea how he managed to get an angel into his truck. How he convinced her that he was good enough to sit this close to her; good enough to hold her in his hands and hear her pleasure. 

“The darkness,” she whispers, her voice hitching when his hand slides higher, “I didn’t think I would like the darkness this much.”

He digs his fingers into her jean-clad skin, reveling in her warmth and the way she squeezes her thighs around his hand. He bites his cheek, barely containing his own moans. She’s not even touching him and yet the sound of her voice alone has him so close. His eyes read the next sign, sucking in a harsh breath. Ten more minutes and she’ll be out of his truck. 

Kai looks over at her- perhaps for what will be one of the last times- forcing a sharp smile to his lips, “this darkness is nothing, princess.” His voice is hoarse, his words soft but pained, “it’s just a glimpse. I don’t think you would like the real thing as much.”

He watches as her eyes widen, her mouth falling open a touch. Exactly, he thinks to himself, now you’re starting to get it. He clenches his jaw, going to move his hand from her heavenly thigh when she stops him, her hands closing around his wrist. His shoulders- among other things- tense as she drags his fingers to settle directly between her legs, using her hand to guide his motions and arching into his touch. Holy fucking shit. 

“Princess what-” Kai tries to process his thoughts clearly but he can’t; the heat seeping from her and her fingers pushing his to rub against her are much too demanding for him to form a coherent sentence.

The sign for her university comes into focus as he rubs his fingers harder against her. A soundtrack of her moans fills the cab of his truck, her hands wrapping like a vice against his arm as she presses her face once more against his shoulder. He curses, breathing in her sugary aroma, his chest flooding with heat. All he can think about is how he has to park this damn car before he crashes and doesn’t get to experience more of the exquisite creature next to him. She rolls her head back onto the seat, spreading her legs further for him, her hands never leaving his arm.

“Just try me, Malachai.”

Hour Four

She moans as Kai’s hands find the button of her jeans, the tires of his truck screeching as he finally pulls into her dorm’s parking lot. As soon as he shifts the gears into park she’s on him, grabbing the collar of his jacket and pulling his lips to her own. God, she was right, he tastes chocolate and mint gum. He groans into her mouth, one of his hands finding her hip and pulling her onto his lap while the other goes to her neck, pushing her lips against his. She presses against him, rocking against the hard bulge in his jeans and gasping against his mouth.

“Malachai,” she murmurs, her hands sliding through his silky hair, “I need you.”

He wraps his arms around her back, pressing his chest against hers and backing her into the steering wheel. Her heart thunders when his lips meet her jaw, nipping at her skin before sliding back to her lips and pulling her bottom lip between his teeth. 

“Fuck,” her body lights up at the throaty tone of his voice, “are you sure, princess?”

She nods, the words lodging in her throat as Kai’s lips trace to her neck, his tongue flattening against her pulse point. She’s sure alright. She’s never been more sure of anything. She wraps her hands around his back, clawing at his shoulders and mewling at his skilled lips. She tugs at his jacket, trying her best to convey her need for the material to disappear. The girl is rarely speechless but right now, when she needs her voice the most, it’s as if it’s nowhere to be seen.

“Off, please get it off,” she finally murmurs against his lips, her hands splayed hard against his jaw as he shrugs the jacket off, “I need to feel you.”

Kai’s fingers curl around the hem of her shirt, sliding underneath and around her back, his fingers digging into her spine deliciously. She rocks higher on his lap, her lips finding his throat and sucking his warm skin into her mouth. She runs her tongue against the hollow of his throat, smiling when he bucks his hips against her. Tingles shoot through her as he brushes against her and she lets loose another moan into his skin.

“More,” she fumbles, seeing stars behind her eyelids, “I need more. I need all of you, right now. Please.”

She doesn’t even know what she’s saying; she just knows if he doesn’t make love to her soon she’s going to literally combust. She slides her hands down Kai’s chest, her fingers slipping beneath his shirt and glimpsing at his hard muscles. Her fingers explore slightly and she reels when he tenses under her, a breathy moan of his own joining hers.

He crushes her against him, his head falling against the seat, “angel, I will do whatever the fuck you want me to but not in my truck.” His hand slides to her ass, squeezing so hard her core clenches, his name slipping from her lips, “I am not about to let just anyone watch me fuck you into next week. That’s mine and mine alone.”

She can hear exactly what he means; you’re mine and mine alone. It sends another wave of heat coursing over her, her core clenching again, harder, and she nods furiously against his neck, “my room. Now!”

He laughs, pulling his keys from the ignition and opening the door. She giggles with him, sliding out of the truck and all but dragging him with her. He kicks the door shut, his arms wrapped around her stomach and his face buried in the side of her neck. She squeals gleefully when he lifts her, her back pressed against his chest as he kisses the side of her neck and spins her around. The cold air nips at her stomach, exposed from where her shirt rides up. 

“Malachai,” she whines, her hand sliding behind her and into his hair, tugging a tad harshly, “please hurry, baby.”

“You’re no fun, angel,” he murmurs against her skin but sets her down nonetheless. 

She wraps her hands around his arm, tugging him to jog after her, her giggles spilling into the night, no doubt waking up some of the other students as she leads him through the campus. She doesn’t care, she hasn’t felt this free in ages. He laughs with her and the sound of his joy exhilarates her, lighting her whole being up with a dangerous kind of fire. It weighs down her limbs, pooling in her stomach and soaking her jeans. His hand links with hers, his fingers squeezing hers as her body tingles. She’s so close to her dorm she can taste it- taste him and everything he’s going to do to her- and she hurries quicker.

She tugs him around a corner and he stops abruptly. Her heart jumps in her throat, wondering for a moment if he’s changed his mind. When she turns to look at him, though, his dark eyes pour over her, his lip pulled between his teeth. He looks like he wants to take her right here on the stoop of a dorm that isn’t her own. She squeezes her thighs, trying to ignore the part of her that reels at the thought.

“Kai-”

He pushes her against the brick of her dorm building, his mouth slamming against hers, his tongue slipping between her lips, “Malachai, princess. That’s my name. Say it.”

She moans at his soft and stern tone, grinding her hips against his the best she can, “Malachai, I need you.”

He nods against her lips, his hands wrapping around her hips and pulling her up his body. She wraps her legs around him, sighing when he pushes her harder into the wall with his hips, pressing his hard length against her covered core and moaning into her mouth. His scent consumes her, lingering in her chest when he pulls back, his eyes consumed by darkness. Her heart thunders when his nostrils flare, her thighs clenching around him at the sight of his flushed cheeks.

“What room number,” he pants, grinding his hips and sending another relentless wave of heat racing through her.

She presses her mouth against his, her tongue lapping at his minty lips, “I’m in 102.” She tugs his bottom lip, pulling a heated groan from his chest, “it’s just a few doors down. Please, Malachai.”

She kisses down the side of his throat as Kai searches for her room, running her nose along his warm skin and sinking as far into his arms as possible. She tugs the key out of her bag when he slows, leaning away from him to unlock the door before turning the knob and all but falling into her room. She giggles as they stumble, pushing the door shut quickly and throwing her keys to the floor. No need for those anymore.

He tosses her on her bed and she can’t help but giggle at the feeling of her plush blanket, knowing soon it will be brushing her bare back as he slides into her. He makes quick work of her heels, pulling them off and tossing them to the side. She winces when she hears them clunk somewhere in her room- that loud sound better not have been one of them breaking, Kai- but is soon distracted when he kicks his own boots off, kneeling on the bed and crawling towards her. The bed sinks at his knees and her body thrums in anticipation.

As soon as he’s within arms reach she grabs him, her fingers twisting in his t-shirt as she hauls his body over hers. Well, she tells herself that she’s the one who brings him closer. In reality it’s he who complies, letting her command him in whichever way she so pleases. He leans down, finding her mouth and kissing her hard, lowering some of his weight onto her. She moans, pressing back against him and wishing that his clothes would just vanish already, their mutual affinity for jeans starting to become a problem.

“Angel, fuck,” he murmurs as her hands slide once more under his shirt and he grabs her fingers, pulling her wrists above her head, “I need permission right now before we keep going. Yes; I fuck you. No; we cuddle. I am more than fine with both options.” One of his hands slides down her belly and wraps around her hips, fire flaring everywhere he touches, “what’ll it be, princess?”

He hovers over her, his gray eyes soft on hers. For the first time tonight she can see them clearly and her breath hitches, an unexpected wave of emotion flooding her chest at the way he’s looking at her. All that talk about darkness and he’s anything but. She yanks her arms from his hand, instead loosely hanging them around his neck. She arches her chest as close to him as she can, feeling each layer of clothes between them in agonizing detail.

“As wonderful as cuddles sound,” she tangles her legs around his hips, pulling his hardness back to her heat, “I really need you to fuck me.”

A wicked grin settles over Kai’s face, his lips drawing to her ear and pulling the lobe between his teeth, tugging hard, his words sending shivers through her body, “then I think it’s high time these clothes go, don’t you?”

She nods, her voice choosing once more to vanish at the most inopportune moment. He pulls her onto her knees, his lips brushing her jaw softly as his hands find the hem of her shirt for the last time, dragging it slowly up her stomach and over her chest before finally discarding it next to the bed. His fingertips draw over her skin lightly, his pinkies grazing the valley of her breasts and his thumbs smoothing over her collarbones. Even the slightest touch makes her clench, knowing he’ll soon be putting those fingers to good work.

She thanks the heavens for a moment that she thought to put on a nice bra, her body flushing with heat when Kai sucks in a breath at the blue lace barely concealing her peaked nipples. His hands circle her waist, his thumbs trailing fire over her soft skin. He darts his tongue out again against his bottom lip, watching her breasts rise and fall with her breaths like a starved man. If a look could ever make someone come on the spot it would be this one. She takes a sharp breath, her chest swelling, the cups of her bra stretching, and his eyes darken.

“Fucking hell, you really are an angel, aren’t you?” he slides his hands up her ribcage, over the flimsy material covering her and flicking her hard nipples, his mouth falling open in a half smile at her breathy sounds, “my angel.”

She gasps, her eyes as wide as saucers, and Kai smiles, fully, his eyes flitting to hers as he does it again, watching her face as his fingers lazily sweep back and forth over her buds. Each brush of his fingers sends a jolt of electricity straight to her core, her body tensing at each pinch. Her hands jut out, grabbing onto his shoulders as to not fall over from the sensation. She squeezes her thighs, rubbing her jean clad legs together in her best attempt to quell the raging fire but it’s useless. Only he can put it out and he knows it, chuckling- a sound like ice cream melting on a hot day; slow and sweet- at her sweet agony before finally slipping behind her back, his fingers finding the clasp of her bra.

“Perhaps I should leave this on, hmm?” Kai teases and she whines, arching her back into his hand. “Watch the way you bounce,” he leans down, his mouth capturing one of her nipples through the lace, his tongue hot and wet against her, “the way the lace pulls.” His teeth find the edge of the cup gently, careful not to ruin it as he drags it over her chest. She jolts when his lips graze her nipple directly, a small taste of his electricity, “what do you think angel?”

As soon as her breast is free from the lace she digs her fingers through his hair, desperately pushing his face back to her chest, “please take it off.”

He laughs, his hot breath fanning her bud as his fingers pull at the hooks behind her back, finally releasing her from the suddenly constricting material. She hears it hit the floor but she doesn’t watch where it lands, her eyes locked on Kai’s as he lowers his mouth back to her nipple, his other palm sliding up her ribs to tease her other breast. His hair tickles her skin as he flicks his tongue over her, his fingers imitating the same sensation, twisting and flicking her peaked bud in time to the laps of his mouth. Her stomach twists, her core dripping from the stimulation. 

“Malachai,” she pleads, her fingers tugging at his hair, trying to find his eyes desperately, “please more. I need more.”

Kai tugs her nipple between his teeth, biting harshly and pulling a small hum of pleasure from her lips as waves of heat attack her body, “patience, angel.” He runs his tongue over her burning bud, soothing her skin once more, “I want you to feel everything. I want you to remember it- me.” He kisses across her chest, pressing his lips gently against her sternum, “every kiss-” he bites at her breast, sucking her skin roughly into his mouth, sending another jolt through her core, “every bite.” His hands drag down her stomach, lazily drawing circles as he teases the waistband of her jeans, “I want you to think about me in every class, I want my name to be the only thing you can say when you go to answer a question. That will take patience-” he kisses her stomach, his tongue dipping against her bellybutton and his fingers grazing the lace under her jeans, “but I think maybe these can go.”

She moans her agreement, the sound tearing from her throat as she nods, most likely once a coherent thought but now just a mess of want- of need. Kai quickly pops the button of her jeans, his fingers digging into the waistband and yanking, tugging her pants down in a way that very much goes against his wish for slow. She lifts her hips from the bed, helping him as much as she can to get the damn pants off. He chuckles as she writhes, each gentle laugh zeroing in on her now barely covered core and sparking little fires across her clit. The sound of the material finally pooling on her floor is like music to her ears but her eyebrows furrow when she looks at him, still completely clothed.

She sits up on her elbows, biting her lip, “come here,” she coos, her voice breathy and her chest heaving, “please, Malachai. C’mere,” she sighs when he complies, her fingers twisting his shirt when he settles between her thighs, “this should have come off ages ago.”

She clenches her bare thighs around his own jean covered legs, mewling as the rough material scratches deliciously at her skin.

“Of course, angel,” his nose skims over her neck as she pulls the material from his body, his voice low and teasing, her fingers gliding over the hard dips of his abdomen, “where are my manners.”

She hums happily- a kitten purring from some much needed attention- as he pushes her back, his sculpted stomach now fully on display for her viewing pleasure as the soft blanket tickles her bare skin. His attention is now focused on the matching, blue lace that is not even trying to conceal her core. Kai slides off her bed, kneeling beside her, and her mind races, her heart thumping hard in her chest. What are you-

Her thoughts are interrupted when his hands dig into her hips, tugging her so that her legs dangle off the bed. He spreads her thighs, his eyes latched on hers as he leans down, kissing the inside of her thigh much too lightly. Her fingers dig into the comforter as he pulls her legs over his now bare shoulders, his hot skin soothing her aching muscles. He plants another gentle kiss on her other thigh and she almost screams- do something Kai, do anything, please- her breath ragged as she watches his lips crawl closer to the soaked lace. She digs her heels against his back, hoping to spur him closer to her.

He runs his nose along the lace, straight down her clit and she gasps, the sensation like lava flowing through her veins, “Kai!”

He flicks his head up, squeezing her hips harder, “what did I already say about that, angel,” he kisses under her belly button, purposefully avoiding her throbbing nub, “what’s my name?”

His gray eyes are wild, filled with a hunger that makes her clench around her emptiness.

She digs her heels harder against him as his teeth tug at the lace, his name a delicious moan on her tongue, “Malachai.”

“Very good,” he praises, “you’re so good for me, baby.”

She moans again as he strikes gold, no response to the name other than pure lust filling her body. His hands tug at her panties, finally pulling the last article of clothing- if a piece of sheer lace even counts as clothing- from her body, exposing her pulsing clit to the cool air of her room. He sucks in a breath, leaning down to blow warm air against her, spreading her legs even further. She throbs, watching as he finally lowers his mouth, his tongue licking a stripe directly to her core and planting stars behind her eyes.

“Fuck, baby,” he moans, more to himself than her, his muscled arms wrapping around her thighs and crushing her to him, “I was right you taste like fucking candy. So damn sweet.”

He dives back against her, his hot tongue flicking her bud back and forth. Waves of white fire pour through her, compressing together in the pit of her stomach. Her fingers dig into the sheets, tugging at the plush comforter because she knows if she runs her fingers through Kai’s hair she might just rip it out. Her back arches, her breasts greeting the air as Kai’s tongue swipes straight to her core again, dipping into her heat before going back to her clit sucking hard. 

He moves one of his hands between her legs, his fingertips lazily circling her entrance as he continues to devour her, “so wet for me, baby. From the moment I first touched you,” he muses, his eyes finding hers over the arch of her sternum and swell of her breasts, “it’s like you knew I was coming.”

“Maybe I did,” she pants, squeezing her thighs around the man buried between her legs, letting out a strangled gasp when he sinks one of his fingers into her, “maybe ever since I locked eyes on you-” another gasp, this time from him pushing a second finger in and curling them both- “I’ve wondered how I’m going to forget you.”

He curls his fingers faster at her words, sucking that much harder on her nub. His eyes stay latched on hers, dark and determined. The ball of fire grows dangerously as his fingers brush over a spot- the spot- and she groans, her hand finding his hair. She doesn’t care anymore, tugging harshly on his silky hair and pushing his face as close to her as she can, grinding against his lips as her whole body starts to tingle. It’s like someone replaced her veins with fluorescents and Kai’s tongue is the outlet. 

“Well maybe,” Kai curls his fingers and her body jolts, teetering on the sweet edge of nothingness, “baby,” his voice is just this side of taunting, his tongue finding a tortuous rhythm, “I don’t want you to forget me.” 

He curls his fingers one more time and she falls- quite possibly in more than one way- over the edge, an earth shattering orgasm tearing through her entire body, “fuck, Malachai!”

Her body trembles in his arms, his fingers still twisting inside her, his mouth still latched to her, sucking and licking until she comes down from her high. She sinks back into her comforter, entirely spent and limbs heavy, his name still a moan on her lips. Her heat throbs, clenching and unclenching as she watches him stand. Maybe she isn’t so tired after all. She pushes her heels into her bed, crawling back towards her pillows as his hands find his belt, making quick work of the leather. He doesn’t bother pulling it from the loops, he just hooks his fingers in his jeans, his taut muscles heaving as he shoves his clothes off in one steady push.

She moans as her eyes land on everything he’s been keeping from her, her mouth watering at the sight of his thick, hard shaft bouncing slightly against his abs. She sinks back against her pillows, her toes curling at the thought of him- what was it Kai said? Oh, right- fucking her into next week. She stretches her arm out, her eyes lidded in anticipation and her nipples peaking once more, and curls her fingers at him. Come here, she almost screams, come burn yourself into my very being. She’s doing her best to remain composed but her skin is flushed, the feeling of his lips still fresh on her body, and her core aches to be filled with something more than his fingers. 

He kneels on the bed once more, his lips tilted and his eyes dark, and he crawls back to her body. He grabs her thighs when he reaches her, pushing her knees to her chest and baring her core him, stretching her muscles deliciously. She grabs his shoulders, digging her fingers into his warm skin and tugging him to hover over her, her legs pressed between them. His shaft presses against her still sensitive clit and she hisses, giggling slightly from the stimulation.

“Angel,” Kai murmurs, his lips pressing against hers as he rocks his hips against her, his tip teasing her entrance, “fuck, just tell me you don’t want to forget me.” He pushes in a few inches and she gasps, cooing at the way he’s already stretching her walls, “tell me you’re mine-” he pushes further, his eyes locking on hers and making her core tighten, her fingers digging harder into his skin. “Tell me you’re mine even if you’re lying.”

He pushes all the way into her, his thighs pressed against hers and his hand shoved into the pillows beside her head, keeping him from falling against her. She feels the most full she’s ever felt, her heat pulsing as he gives her a moment to adjust. She can feel each breath he takes, each slight bump of his hips as he holds himself back, each twitch inside her like he’s a lit match and her body is a temple about to be burned to the ground. She shifts against him and a line of fire zings straight from her bellybutton, a tremor of pleasure shocking her heart. Burn me, please, she chants in her head.

“How could I forget about you?” She breathes, her mouth falling open when he slowly pulls back, only to snap his hips back into hers, driving himself deeper than the first time, “why would I- ah,” Kai presses his chest against her knees, pushing her further into the mattress and leaning on his forearms, circling his hips and stealing the air from her lungs, “I’m yours, Malachai.” She resigns, her train of thought long gone, “all yours.”

“Absolutely right, baby,” he growls, pulling out of her again and slamming back into her as soon as the words are out of her mouth, “mine.”

His hand grabs her knee, pulling her legs apart to wrap around him as he settles into a faster pace. She wraps her arms around his neck, her fingers anchoring in his hair and tugging his lips to hers. She squeezes her thighs around his hips, her toes curling from his bruising pace, whining when he almost pulls all the way out of her once again before thrusting back. She arches her spine, her chest bouncing against his as he circles her arm around her back, pulling her flush against him.

She drags a hand down Kai’s back, her nails digging against his skin and drawing a sinful moan from him. His lips latch on to her jaw as he thrusts harder into her, his arm sliding behind her neck and holding her closer, “fuck, you’re so tight-”

He lifts to his knees, bringing her with him and shifting the angle of his thrusts, his shaft brushing the same spot from before. She lets go of his shoulders, falling back into her pillows to grip her fuzzy sheets for dear life. She can feel the fire from before start building again, only this time hotter, and she rocks back against him, doing her best to match his pace but it’s impossible. He has her legs around his waist still, her bottom half clean off the mattress as he pounds her top half into the pillows; there is nothing for her to do but let the pleasure wash over her. 

Kai pulls her leg further up his chest, hanging it from his shoulder as he smirks, tugging his lip between his teeth, “if only you could see how pretty you look princess, all stretched out for me.” She clenches at his words, the ball of fire pulsing dangerously, and he tightens his hand on her thigh, his eyes going dark, “do you like it when I praise you baby?” His voice is throaty and she can feel him twitch, just as close to coming undone as she is, and her walls clamp around him harder this time, “I’ll take that as a yes.”

“More,” she begs, screwing her eyes shut and letting the sound of his voice push her closer to the cliff, “tell me more. Please!”

He sucks in a sharp breath, his hips slamming impossibly harder against hers, brushing that magical spot relentlessly. His fingers slide down her leg, dragging through her folds to find her throbbing nub, circling his fingers lightly and drawing a strangled scream from her lips.

“And what should I tell you, hmm?” He presses harder against her clit, his fingers picking up the pace to keep time with his increasingly sloppier thrusts, “should I tell you that you look exquisite wrapped around my cock?” She moans, his words making white flash behind her eyes, her core squeezing and sending the first taste of her second orgasm spiraling through her, “that I can’t wait to flip you over in a minute and make you cum again,” her legs jerk, the second wave so much more intense than the first, so much more earth shattering, “and again,” he pushes into her one last time, throwing them both over the edge, “and again, angel.”

Her whole body splinters when he empties himself into her, meeting her release with his with a shuddered breath. She can’t even scream his name- god, she certainly tries though- the white, hot pleasure coursing through her veins, stirring a new life into her bones, only allows her to whisper it. Mouth it over and over again as he collapses against her sticky chest. Fuck, Malachai. He pulls out of her and she hisses, swallowing the last wave of electricity as she stretches her bones, delighting in the careful pop of her joints. 

“Fuck,” Kai rolls onto his back, his eyes shut and his mouth wide open, “that was-” he props himself up on his elbow, his eyes now open and swimming over her face, “that was just wow, baby. Fucking wow.”

She giggles breathlessly, her legs jelly as she turns to him, reaching her arms out. Her body still craves him, her skin aching to press against his in a way she’s never experienced. He wastes no time scooping her up, wrapping an arm behind her knees and pooling her on his chest. His other hand glides up her spine, his fingers pressing hungrily into her flesh. Her thighs slip around his hips as she sinks against his chest, her face finding the crook of his neck. His hands work at the kinks in her shoulders and she shivers, her body starting to light up again.

“Fucking wow,” she agrees as she presses her lips against his throat, squeezing her thighs as his fingers draw lower again, swiping over the dip at the base of her spine as she murmurs a soft, “you don’t have to leave yet, do you?” 

Kai’s body tenses under hers and her heart stutters, her chest stinging- oh, maybe he does. 

“If you do though that’s okay,” she rushes out quickly, pushing her hands against his chest to put some distance between the two of them, “I don’t want to keep you if you, uh, have places to be, I guess-”

He tightens his arms around hers, sitting up quickly, keeping her in his arms as he does so, “I have nowhere to be but here.” He presses his lips against hers and she sighs, reveling in his slightly salty taste, “nowhere I want to be but here, princess”

She nods, brushing her nose against his, “okay.”

Her fingers tangle through his matted hair and he sighs, leaning down to brush her back. Okay. It’s not what she wants to say- something more along the lines of please never leave- but she can settle for it for now. She shifts to straddle his thighs better, pressing her chest against him and sighing at the growing electricity. Round three it is. When she kisses him back she can swear she tastes a hint of her bubblegum gloss on his lips.

“Okay,” he agrees.

[tomurasprincess]

Masked Deception (Shigaraki x Reader)

Summary: Masquerade balls were something you’d only ever heard about in movies. You couldn’t deny the prospect was intriguing; donning your most elegant attire, confidence boosted by your anonymity and the intoxication brought on by such a magical atmosphere. You and your fellow partygoers were almost doomed to desire, inhibitions washed away long before the wine and spirits start to flow.

The mystery, majesty, and potential for mischief were far too enticing to resist.

So, when you received an invitation to Midnight’s Masquerade, you didn’t think twice about accepting…

Pairing: Shigaraki x Reader Rating: Explicit + Word Count: 4k Warnings: Dubcon (due to mistaken identity), degradation, semi-public sex, rough sex, biting, yandere Note: My entry for @lemonlordleah-shinzawa-kitten​‘s Citrus Dome Masquerade collab! The masterlist can be found here. Yes, I am writing Shigaraki, try to contain your surprise. Thanks: To @ichor-and-symbiosis for talking over the idea with me and suggesting the mask, and to @hisoknen for beta reading for me!

When you received the fancy, gilded invitation you’re holding in your hand, you couldn’t help but be shocked. Midnight’s Masquerade is a rather exclusive event, and there will be quite a few big names mingling around among the crowd tonight.

Of course, it will be hard to tell with everyone wearing masks.

Still though, you’re excited to be included. You’re not a minor hero by any means, but you’re hardly ready for the top 20 leaderboard. At least not yet. You have every hope of eventually making a name for yourself as a pro-hero.

And so with a sense of pure excitement, you walk into the ballroom. You chose a beautiful floor length purple dress with intricate beadwork through the bust and down the front. It has a bit of a train behind it, but part of the bottom half easily detaches in case you need to fight. Not that you believe it will be necessary at an event crawling with heroes, but you like to be prepared.

The ballroom itself is magnificent. The ceiling is domed with various gold inlaid designs, and the huge chandeliers have crystals that dangle down and catch the light.

People mingle everywhere, all dressed in finery that you couldn’t hope to afford, with beautifully elaborate masks. Your own mask is rather simple, mostly silver colored with hints of red throughout. You glance down at the rest of your attire, almost feeling dressed down, before you shake your head and head to the dance floor, determined to have a good time. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity, after all.

You dance for what feels like forever, but is likely only an hour or so before you get thirsty. But as you make your way over to the drink table, you’re stopped by one of the other partygoers.

“You quitting already? I was hoping to dance with you!” The man grabs your wrist and tries to pull you towards the dance floor. He’s obviously had too much to drink already, as he sways on his feet when you pull your wrist from his grip.

“Not interested,” you remark flatly as you turn to walk away. But he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you into his body roughly, refusing to let go when you try to pull away. Your eyes scan the crowd, hoping for someone to notice and put a stop to this before you have to cause a scene, but nobody meets your eyes.

“If you knew who I was, you wouldn’t be refusing me, you know,” he growls a bit in your ear. His hand moves slowly down your back and you cringe a bit in disgust. The spiked heel of your shoe comes down hard on his ankle, and he lets out a hiss of pain but still doesn’t let you go, grip merely digging in harder.

“You whore, I’m a top hero and you’re probably a nobody,” he snarls at you as his grip becomes painful, “you should be honored I’m even paying attention to you.”

“Is this what hero society has become?” You hear a scoff from behind you. You turn around to see a man dressed in an all black suit, standing off to the side with his arms crossed against his chest. He’s wearing a kintsugi mask, red with wispy silver lines spreading out along the surface. The kintsugi symbolizes broken pieces coming back together even stronger and more beautiful than before, and it makes you wonder what in the man’s history caused him to choose such a mask.

What appears to be blue hair is pulled back into a simple, slicked back ponytail, and his red eyes underneath the mask are sharp and calculating, like he’s seeing right through you. You feel a sense of unease but also a thrill go through you at his regard. “You harass some woman, and all the other pathetic heroes look the other way?”

“This isn’t any of your business, so why don’t you just walk away,” the man still holding on to you threatens, “before I make you - “

He doesn’t even finish his sentence before the red eyed man shoots out at him, landing a blow to the back of his head so quickly that you can barely follow it with your eyes. He instantly lets go, falling to the floor with a loud thud that causes everyone around you to stare at the scene.

“I think the poor hero here had too much to drink,” he chuckled, “guess he can’t hold his alcohol.” Nobody questions his version of events, and a few attendants come to pick up the unconscious man on the floor.

You’re led away from the crowd by the intense man over to the hors d'oeuvres table, where you grab some water. You’re keenly aware of him watching your every movement, and you shift slightly back and forth as you drink, trying to calm yourself down from the earlier incident.

“Thanks for stepping in, by the way.”

“It’s nothing,” he scoffs, “this party is boring and I like to fuck with holier-than-thou heroes.”

You try to hold in your laughter, but you fail. “To be fair, I do too. There’s so many of them lately who just care about fame and will step over anyone to get it.”

“Is that so?” A hint of curiosity enters the man’s voice. “A hero being negative about the other heroes, go figure.”

“I don’t think I’m being negative, just honest. And it doesn’t help that my quirk,” you trail off before you finish your sentence, aware that you were about to say too much that might reveal who you are.

“Your quirk? Let me guess, you don’t have a particularly powerful one?” He muses on the question before dismissing it instantly. “Nah, I don’t think that’s it. Don’t have a particularly heroic one, maybe?”

He laughs quietly when you stiffen up at that, and you’re secretly glad that he can’t see your full expression through the mask. It’s been a sore spot for you ever since you got your hero license. You had to fight twice as hard to get recognized, even though all you ever wanted to do was use your quirk for good.

“Got it that time,” he says smugly. “So let me guess, you’re not well liked by the other heroes because of it? Held back, maybe?”

You desperately try to think of a retort, some argument you can make against this man who has a dangerous level of perception. But you can think of nothing, and you finally turn your head away from him only to hear him chuckle.

“Even with a mask, you’re easy to read, princess. Why are you here, then? You seem just as bored as I am.”

“No, that’s not true,” you retort back, “it’s a big honor to be invited here.”

“A big honor, huh? Interesting that you didn’t argue about being bored.”

“I - of course I’m not bored,” you lie through your teeth. The man is right, of course. You already want to leave, especially after what happened earlier, but you feel obligated to stay for a bit longer.

“You’re a bad liar,” the man notes, “and that’s unusual for a hero.”

“Let me ask you the same question, then. If you hate the heroes so much, why are you here?” You shoot back in irritation. “And why haven’t you left?”

He gives an indifferent shrug but doesn’t actually answer the question. “Maybe I haven’t left because I’m trying to get you alone,” he smirks at you as you feel your face heat up under the mask.

“And why would you want to do that?” You say softly as you take a single step closer. For some reason, despite not knowing anything about this man, you are interested in knowing more.

He takes several steps forward as well, before reaching around to grab your ass and pull you roughly into him. You feel him grind his hips against you, and you can feel the hardened bulge there. “I can think of a few reasons,” he whispers. ”You interested? Or are you going to be like the rest of these boring ass heroes?”

This is a bad idea, you know it is. Every instinct in you is telling you that there is something dangerous about this man. But that only makes you want to do it more. “Maybe I am interested,” you laugh in a teasing tone. “What about it?”

“Then why don’t we go somewhere a little more private, hmm?” The man asks you slyly as he guides you out of the ballroom and down a series of corridors. He pulls you into an empty bedroom, with an ornate four poster bed dominating one side along with a grand fireplace and windows big enough to let moonlight stream through the entire room. You hear a click as he locks the door, and then he’s on you like a flash.

He pins you up against a table, lifting you up and settling in between your legs as he begins to kiss you. There’s a desperation to it, a sense of passion that you have never experienced before. He’s downright feral as he dominates your mouth, tongue wrapping around your own as he drags his teeth across your lower lip. When he finally pulls away, you’re both breathless and panting.

You’re surprised when he pulls the train off your dress off with one sharp yank as he drops to his knees in front of you. “These are mine now,” he slips your panties down before pocketing them, smirking when he sees your confused look. “A bit of a party favor.”

In an instant, his mouth is on the heated flesh between your legs and you lose the ability to say anything back. He uses one hand to spread open your folds before licking his way up. He barely grazes your clit with his tongue, and chuckles as you whine when he pulls away. “So needy for me,” he murmurs as he slips a finger inside of you. “And so wet already.”

He attaches his lips to your clit, applying firm suction around the swollen bead, the sudden shout you make at the pleasure has you hoping nobody heard you. You wrap your hand in his hair, trying to force him to stay between your legs as he devours you like a man starved.

He makes up for what seems like a lack of experience by sheer enthusiasm, sucking hard at your clit as he slips another finger into your pussy. You throw your head back and begin to moan as he pumps his fingers inside of you, letting out a sharper gasp when he grazes that soft, spongy spot inside of you.

You see his eyes through the mask instantly go calculating before he deliberately curls his fingers up and repeatedly hits that spot. The tension in you is quickly building up as you feel yourself tighten around him when he adds in a third finger.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he groans at the feeling of your walls sucking his fingers in. “I can’t wait to feel your sweet little cunt gripping my cock like this.”

His words cause your lower stomach to clench, making him realize how close you are as he increases his pace and reattaches his mouth to your clit. As he licks the juices flooding out of you, moaning into your heated flesh like you’re the most delicious meal he’s ever had. The vibration is enough to send you over the edge as your pussy flutters around his fingers, legs clamping around his head as you shake.

He doesn’t stop even after your orgasm is over, relentlessly licking and sucking at your clit until you’re whining and trying to pull away from him. “Too much, too sensitive,” you hiss out, but he refuses to budge, continuing to slam his fingers against your g-spot until you’re pushed over the edge yet again, pussy gushing around his fingers.

“That was so fucking hot,” he growls as he stands up and begins to unbuckle his pants. He rips the bottom half of your dress open to allow him easier access as he slowly pumps his cock in his fist.

“You fucking asshole, do you know how much that dress costs?”

“So sorry, princess,” he snorts with not a hint of remorse as he removes his cock from his pants and gives it a stroke, grinning as your eyes lower to watch the movement. He’s painfully hard, thick vein running up his length throbbing and pulsing. His cockhead is already dripping precum, and you can’t help but lick your lips at the sight.        

He runs his cockhead up your folds, stopping long enough to prod at your puffy clit and sending it more zings of pleasure up your body. He collects your wetness as he begins to push into your throbbing pussy, sliding in easily because of how aroused you are. You can tell he wants to be slow, let you adjust, but he reaches the limit of his restraint as he grips your hips and thrusts himself the rest of the way inside of you in one quick snap of his hips.

Despite how wet you are, you still let out a sharp hiss of pain at the feeling of him stretching you and bottoming out inside of you. He gives you a mere second to adjust before he starts pounding into you, gripping your hip with one powerful hand and digging in hard enough that it hurts. You know you’re going to be bruised and sore after this, and the thought riles you up even more.

He reaches up to cup your breasts, squeezing the nipple in between two fingers as he trails kisses down your neck. You can feel him suck and bite down the column of your neck, knowing full well that he’s leaving all sorts of hickies that will be seen by anyone who looks. You want to be mad, but everything feels so good that you can’t even begin to protest.

“You’re taking my cock so damned well,” he praises you, causing you to clench down around him. “Do you want to see me? See who I really am?” Your eyes widen at the suggestion before you nod, reaching for his mask. He doesn’t stop you, allowing you to slip the mask off his head. When you see who he really is, your heart seems to stop beating for a second, your world narrowing down to nothing but his face.

Tomura Shigaraki, the leader of the League of Villains, is ravaging your cunt like he owns you.

“Oh my god,” you suck in a breath, “you - you’re Shigaraki.”

He lets out a malicious laugh as he digs into your hips even harder when you try to pull away from him. “Call me Tomura. Only fair since I’m balls deep inside you right now.”

“You - you tricked me,” you stammer, a slight edge of fear entering your voice that you don’t even try to hide. “Are you going to kill me?”

He changes his angle just enough to hit that sensitive spot, drilling into your walls with every single thrust. “Why would I, when this cunt feels so fucking good?” Your eyes roll back into your head, legs shaking from the pressure building back up inside of you.

“You’re such a - hnggg, shit - such a fucking asshole.”

“Am I? I could always stop, you know.” He begins to slow his pace, causing you to lose what was promising to be a truly intense orgasm. You let out a whine as you try to push back into him, and he holds you in place as he watches you. “Do you want me to stop?” He sounds so arrogant, so sure of himself that you almost want to tell him to go fuck himself instead. But he has you right where he wants you, and he knows exactly what your answer is going to be.

You realize exactly how much of a terrible idea this is, knowing that you should be disgusted, horrified of a villain taking advantage of you like this. But everything just feels too good, too intense. “Don’t fucking stop, damnit,” you growl at him as he smirks and begins to move again. “That’s a good girl.”

You stop trying to push him away, instead choosing to wrap your arms around the back of his neck, legs coming around to dig your heels into his back. “Harder,” you command, and he instantly obliges you as he pulls almost all the way out of your dripping heat before slamming back balls deep, hitting your cervix and causing a pained whine to leave your throat. But even the pain feels amazing.

“Who knew a hero would like villain cock so much? I bet you’ve wanted someone to fuck you like this for a while, huh? A hero certainly never would.”

You let out a slight growl at his words as you shake your head. “Why don’t you just shut up and fuck me already?”

“Why don’t you just admit it?” He retorts back, laughing as you glare at him.  He sighs as you refuse to say a word, pulling all the way out of you.

“Ahh, I guess you really don’t want this villain’s cock, now do you?” He reaches for his belt buckle, as if he intends to get dressed and leave you here, still burning for release and needy for him.

“Fuck, you really are a bastard,” you hiss at him. “Fine, I want your villain cock. I want you to fuck me already.” You let out a sharp gasp as he yanks you off the table, slamming you down face first against it and bending you over. He trails his still rock hard cock along your dripping folds, but still doesn’t enter you.

“Fuck, please, I need you,” you finally give up all pretense of shame, resorting to sheer desperate begging. “Tomura, please, I need you.” At the mention of his name, he grabs your shoulders as he buries himself inside of you again with one powerful thrust.

There is no precision to his movements anymore, just pure animalistic thrusting. It’s all you can do to hold on, nails causing marks in the wood table as you grip it. His heavy balls slap your clit with every thrust, and you can feel the pressure building back up inside of you quickly.

“Hngg, god, fuck yes,” you pant, barely able to keep up with the force of his movement. Yet you still try, pushing your hips back to meet every thrust into your aching cunt. “Feels so good, fuck Tomura, don’t stop - “

His grunts become deeper, his pace inside of you becoming more erratic as he changes his angle slightly to hit that sensitive, spongy patch deep inside of you. It’s enough to finally unravel you, and your orgasm hits you full force. You squeal as your muscles tighten, only able to remain on your shaky legs by clutching the table.

“Fuck, you’re so tight, not going to last - “

“Please cum,” you whine, “cum inside of me, fill me up, Tomura -”

He lets out a surprised hiss of air as he grips your hips, giving several more thrusts inside of you before you feel his cock between to twitch and hot ropes of cum filling you up. He fucks you through his orgasm, milking his cock until he’s spent. Overstimulated, he finally pulls out of you as he leans into the table for support, breath coming in fast pants.

You’re in no better shape either, legs so wobbly that you couldn’t hope to walk at this point. So you settle for lowering yourself down the floor to regain your breath. He stares at you for a long moment before doing the same, stretching out beside you.

You don’t speak for several minutes, content to lay side by side as you try to come down from both of your highs. But when you do, you’re surprised by what you end up asking him. “So what now?” You glance at him, only to see him shrug.

“Well now, I guess you have a choice then, don’t you hero? You could go call the heroes in here, try to have me arrested. Go on with your boring little hero life that we both know you’re not cut out for.”

You wait for him to continue, but he says nothing more. “Or what? You said I had a choice.”

“Or you could pretend that you never met me here and let me go. Would certainly be easier for me not to have to fight my way out,” he says so nonchalantly that you almost wouldn’t believe he was talking about fighting through an entire mansion of heroes.

“And if I did that, what’s in it for me?”

“The chance to be more than some pathetic little hero wannabe.” He straddles your legs, running four fingers down your chest, with his pinky hovering close by. “The heroes will never appreciate you. Not like I will.” You know you should feel afraid with the most wanted criminal in Japan pinning you down, running his lethal hands over your body. All it would take is one single inch, one single slip of his finger, and you would be ash underneath him. But you strangely feel no fear whatsoever. The thought both terrifies and thrills you all at once.

You both turn to the door as one when you hear shouting coming down the hall, screaming about a villain attack. He glances at you, completely calm as he waits to see what you’ll do, what choice you’ll make. He doesn’t try to stop you as you stand up, straightening your dress as much as possible. He doesn’t even make a move to escape.

“Go,” you finally say reluctantly. “Get out of here and I’ll distract them by pointing them in the wrong direction.” You expect a triumphant smirk, a look of disdain on his face for tricking the stupid hero. But as you glance at him one last time, you see something surprising. He’s smirking at you, yes, but there’s something underneath. A look of possessiveness, screaming that you belong to him now and that there’s no escape. Rather than fear, you feel a bolt of excitement run through your body.

But the look is gone as quick as it comes, and he’s turning away from you towards a window before he pauses yet again. “Oh yeah, don’t forget this - my little hero.” The mocking tone behind the word hero is clear, as if he no longer quite believes you fall under that title anymore.

To be honest, you don’t even believe it. Not after fucking him, not after letting him go.

He throws something at you, and you catch it effortlessly before glancing down at the object you’re holding: your purse. You glance up to ask him why he made sure to throw it at you, but he’s already gone, window swinging open in the breeze. You walk over and close it before heading out and back into the ballroom.

The place is utter chaos, people running everywhere and trying to organize search parties across the mansion to find the breach. Everybody seems out in full force, security and unmasked heroes all working together.

“Excuse me, hero,” you turn around to see Midnight herself walk up to you, and you instantly feel a sense of unease that she knows something. “Is there anything wrong?”

“No, nothing wrong. I was just trying to figure out what was going on.”

“There’s been a villain attack, but we’re not sure why yet. Have you seen anything strange?”

You give a quick nod. “No, I haven’t seen anything. Sorry I can’t be of more help.”

Her gaze turns sharp, taking in your disheveled state, your torn dress, and you know you’re about to be discovered. She’s about to say something and then you’re done for, thrown out of hero society for good.

But she simply smiles at you and then turns to walk away.

It isn’t until after she’s already long gone that you realize your neck is covered in hickies.

After a few more questions, you’re free to leave. You wait until you’re all the way home before you remember you’re still clutching your purse, recalling how deliberate it was that he threw it to you. And so you check it, unsurprised to find a note scrawled with hasty writing. What does surprise you, however, is the way it makes you smile.

You can find me at this location. If you’re ready to be free from hero society, then meet me there.

This isn’t actually an option. You’re mine now. Don’t keep me waiting.

PS: Plus, I still have your panties.

✧༝┉┉┉┉┉˚*❋ ❋ ❋*˚┉┉┉┉┉༝✧

Tags: @thewheezingwyvern, @vixen-scribbles, @ttamaki, @lildreamer93​, @kittygonyan, @bat-eclecticwolfbouquet-love, @daedaep69, @heyybrittannia, @groovydreamertrash, @hisoknen, @chou-maitresse, @togasknifes, @kingtamakimurder, @shigaraki-is-my-master, @kittycatkrissa, @reinawritesbnha, @yanderart, @drxwsyni​, @dabilove27, @fae-father, @anxietyplusultra, @flutterfalla​, @angmarwitch, @nereida19, @dabis-kitten, @bakugos-cumsock, @yumeneji

[dancingazaleas]

𖨆. 08 / all for us

summary: levi decides to walk you through his garden on a rainy day. you didn’t think that you’d end up having another antagonist though.

note: oh my god, i am deeply sorry that this took such a long time. i’ve been way too busy to actually sit down and get into the mindset of this book. i’m so sorry.

word count: +2.4k

taglist: @voltairelesecond @baelo80 @the-sun-baby @uniquepickle @ascybous @messyhairday-me @stupid-stinky @saturnalya @megumitodoroki @kouyume @quacksonlover81 @gipumaur @morgana-olson @yourodangoatama

warnings/notes: cursing, creepy gestures, fluff, slight confusion, unedited, let me know if i missed anything

RAINDROPS pelted against the glass of the window gently, the sound echoing throughout the quiet room that is your bedroom.

today, levi had decided he would just spend his time with you in the comfort of your own room, holding you in his arms while he lazed the day away.

you, on the other hand, were having none of it. and by none of it, i mean cuddling. it wasn't that you didn't want to cuddle with levi, in fact, you enjoyed a lot! but, the rain outside your window was far more important in your eyes.

there was nothing exactly specific about the rain that entrapped your attention, just that it had been so long since you'd been in it. so long since you've been outside even.

but you'd never ask to go outside, the answer was already plastered onto an invisible wall inside of your head. so instead, you'd just look whenever you would get the chance.

and it didn't go unnoticed, it was actually quite obvious. you didn't care however, it's not as if erwin or levi were going to change their mind, so why worry at all?

but seeing the way your eyes sparkle at the sight of the rain gather in puddles outside, levi felt himself being convinced.

he huffs annoyedly, he just wanted to spend the day in your arms until erwin was home. he wishes it didn't rain. but even so, he begrudgingly gets to his feet and trudges to you. you look at him with a smile, hand reaching up to point at something that only you could probably see.

"we're gonna go outside for a bit, sick of watching your desperate face," he puts his hands in his pockets while staring at your widened eyes.

you stare at him for a minute, slightly creeping him out, before you even really react. you swing your arms around his neck and thank him profusely, a wide smile spread from ear to ear whenever you pull away from him.

"you're not going out in your nightgown though," he points to the silk white nightgown that ends at your bruised knees.

you follow behind him happily whenever he walks into your closet, shuffling through the different clothes he's bought you.

"you're not wearing light colors, it's too muddy outside, and if you were to get stains on you, they'd ruined beyond repair," he mutters, grabbing a black button up with bishop sleeves.

he hands it to you, gently taking your hand to lead you out of the closet and towards your dresser than held your clothes. he settles on a forest green skirt that ends just a few inches above your ankles, and then he grabs a bra for you.

"strip," you don't complain, only heat up and oblige.

his back is turned whenever he flings a black bra at you, obviously avoiding the sight of your body to help you maintain your decency. even if he did bathe you sometimes.

you hurriedly slip the bra on and levi finally decides to look at you again. he helps you button up your shirt along with the cuffs, nagging at you quietly as a husband would do for their wife. he lets you step inside the skirt on your own, which has you coming to the realization that there are built in pants that separate the air from your panties.

levi scoffs at your untucked shirt, tucking it into your skirt with fondness dripping from him. he sits you onto the stool of your vanity, which no longer has a mirror, and sighs. he picked up a brush, running it carefully through your hair to avoid any tangles that would tug at your head.

when he feels you're decent enough, he holds a cold hand out for you to take into his own. you accept it with glee, skipping behind him when he guides you through his estate and to the back door that leads to his garden.

"i need you all to clean up that table in the center. put those big umbrellas under it and dry it off with towels. then leave towels by the umbrella so i can wipe it down if it gets wet again. make us a light lunch, nothing too big but definitely not small. (name) and i are going to walk around the garden together until you all are finished or until we're ready to eat," levi's so quick with his words that it has you reeling with confusion, but his workers seem just fine with his speed and are already starting to complete the task given to them.

he holds a smaller umbrella in one hand and your hand in the other, opening it above the two of you as you step outside the door. your shoes click against the stone walkway just as thunder booms in the sky. you flinch and chuckle, pulling your hand away from levi to link arms with him.

he guides you along the garden, only explaining certain things if you had questions. the silence mixed with the light pitter patter of the rain soothes him, heavy eyes fluttering sleepily.

he's immediately awake whenever you squeal excitedly.

there was a marble statue of the goddess, themis. her scales were elegantly balanced between her fingers while her blindfold hung loosely around her eyes, other hand on the hilt of her sword that pointed to the ground.

"that was a reward for erwin at his office. i make sure to clean it myself every once and a while," you look to him, admiration mixed with confusion displayed on your face as you contemplated the meanings behind not only the goddess, but her statue as well.

you decide to keep quiet, slightly tugging levi to come closer to the statue so you can examine it more closely.

your eyes are shining whenever levi looks at you, and he feels like you're the sunshine in the midst of this pouring rain.

he looks down at his shoes silently, brushing away his cheesy and sappy thoughts. he feels stupid. not once had he felt this way towards anyone besides tall blonde men with blue eyes, but now he was feeling this way towards a woman. to say he was confused was only scratching at the surface.

he knew he'd liked you when he met you. you were quick witted, outgoing, and kind-hearted, not to mention gorgeous. but it's not like he wasn't sexually attracted to women at the time, he definitely was. he had never just felt romantically for women, not once in the entirety of his pitiful life.

but you're so docile and levi likes that. he not only likes it, he cherishes it.

for now, he'll entertain the thought that he might be bisexual, pansexual, whatever title makes him feel comfortable. if he can fall for you, then there's a chance he can fall for other girls.

levi hasn't even realized he's zoned out until you whine at him. you're lightly tugging on his hand to venture further into the garden, and levi's heart swells. you had an opportunity to leave, whether you even knew it or not, yet you chose to stay and wait for him. you had even snapped him out of it.

he lets out a huff before he stares to guide you around the garden again. he can't wait to take a nap after this.

"are you ready to eat yet," he grumbles, tugging on your hand to get you to stop walking.

"is there anything else left to see?"

"nothing that will look good in this weather," he scoffs.

"then, yes, i'm ready," and with that, he's leading you to the table his workers had been ordered to set up.

when you two arrive, you realize that the table was sat under a white hexagonal kiosko that had vines and flowers wrapping around the support beams. the table was covered from the rain, confusion clacking your brain at why levi asked for a big umbrella.

he seems pleased at seeing the table though.

"how long did it take for petra to realize," levi asks whenever he helps you sit down.

"not very long," the man said, and you recognize him from that day in bath with erwin.

you stiffen at the eye contact, looking down at the table and the empty plates that sit upon them. you feel his stare linger on you and your body, specifically your curves that were hidden underneath the button up shirt levi put on you. this kid gave you the creeps.

"i'll be back with the food," he says and walks behind your chair, fingers brushing against the back of your neck.

you swallow down your disgust, looking to levi to start a conversation.

"levi, wh... what's that boy's name?"

eyebrow raised, he responds, "his name's archie. why do you ask?"

"no reason. i think i've seen him around the house before," you shrug and idly play with the silverware on the table.

levi doesn't believe you, but the day has been too good for him to ruin now. you both talk sparingly while waiting for archie to come back, mostly talking about the new tv show you got levi to start watching and what he thinks about it.

the two of you turn your heads when you hear the sound of footsteps. you see erwin with archie following behind him with a tray of three plates, erwin holding an umbrella over the two of them. a soft smile sets on levi's face when he sees him.

"what are you doing home," you smile whenever he steps under the roof of the kiosko closes the umbrella.

"i was thinking of you two all day. it got so bad that i called a client by your guys' names," he chuckles, leaning down to give you a kiss on your head.

he does the same to levi while you giggle at his sentence. he sits down in an unoccupied chair, hand laying itself on your thigh.

"you can't just keep taking off, erwin," despite the slightly bitter sentence, levi's face is content.

archie places the plates in front of erwin and levi in silence, then to you. his arm brushes your own, and you can't help but get that weird feeling in your tummy again.

"thank you," you say to him quietly, flipping the fork between your fingers.

he just hums in response and walk away from the three of you again, sly smirk on his face. you ignore him, starting to eat the grilled chicken salad with slight confusion.

it had been over three months since you'd even had a fork in your hands. the feeling felt foreign and it felt as if all memory of how to eat with a fork washed away. the realization made your stomach ache, a dreadful look in your eyes spreading across your body. you swallowed down the huge ball that brews in your throat, hands trembling.

erwin and levi stare with pride swelling in their chests while tears swell in your eyes.

since when had you become so dependent? were you not just taking care of pieck and her cat when she was sick months ago?

you take a deep breath, adjusting the fork to make it comfortable in your hand. you try your best to eat with loose muscles, but the stiffness in your bones have practically turned you into wood.

erwin turns to you, sickeningly sweet smile on his face, taking the fork out of your hand and gathering food for you. he feeds you, just as he has done before, fingers gently touching your jaw as if he guided your chewing.

a warmth fills the ball in your chest, and deep down inside it makes you sick. you chew slowly and listen to levi and erwin's conversation, which consists of erwin's workday and how you've refused to cuddle with levi this morning.

————

you lay on the living room couch with your head in erwin's lap and feet in levi's. a crime documentary plays on the television, something erwin seemed excited about. he looked too cute to deny.

erwin's fingers run through the locks of your hair lovingly, only ever pulling them out if they start to tangle. levi's watching the documentary with a bored look on his face, thumb rubbing random patterns into your ankle. you're not exactly paying attention to the documentary, only zoning in whenever erwin points something out or whenever levi lets out a scoff.

you start to sit up and stretch, the urge of going to the bathroom taking over you.

you feel embarrassed whenever you ask, "can i go to the bathroom?"

"yeah, just go to the one in your quarters," levi's answer is immediate. he really must not like the documentary.

you pad over to the bathroom, listening to the pitter pattering of your bare feet against the dark hardwood floor. you walk into the opened door of your quarter, yawning obnoxiously and throwing your arms into the air. maybe you should've cuddled with levi this morning.

you go to the bathroom quickly, the thundering of the sky making you nervous. it would've been different if levi or erwin were with you.

you start to walk back to the living room, eyes focused on the flickering light that illuminates the large hallway. a particular loud clash of lightning and clap of thunder has you jumping into the air, house barely rumbling.

your body crashes into a chest, which you immediately grab onto, instinctively. you start to apologize to the person, obviously thinking that it was erwin judging by the height and broadness of the chest.

but when you look up, you're looking at the emerald green eyes that belong to archie. your words get caught in your throat and you feel yourself pale.

"i-i'm sorry," you stutter, immediately backing away only to come to the realization that you're already a few feet from the door to go back into the living room.

if you crashed into him, that means he was walking towards you. but the only thing ahead of the two of you would be—

would be your room.

dread drenches you, head to toe, sweat forming on your forehead as the room starts to feel a little bit fuzzy.

"wh-why were you in my room," you struggle to even get the first syllable out.

"levi wanted me to check for something in there," he shrugs nonchalantly, but you're not convinced.

you smile shakily and nod, rushing to the living room to get away from him. you try to think positive even after all the staring and subtle touches.

but it still leaves a pit in your stomach.

[maxwell-grant]

Cass wouldn’t even begrudingly tolerate [the Black Bat], because she’s even less lenient than Bruce on killing and far more willing to throw down.' - THANK YOU for remembering that.

Cass is my favorite Batfam member, the only one really that I have an active interest in reading about. I'd be incredibly ignorant to not bring bring up such a crucial aspect of her characterization. And even if I didn't personally care for her, well, last thing I'd want is to be another source of frustration for Cass fans. Lord knows there's enough of those to go around.

mousebrass also asked: On that note, how do you imagine a meeting between Cass and the Shadow going?

Fair warning: This one took me 6 hours to write, and it became a hell of a lot longer than I imagined. I liked Cass a lot, but I never quite realized I had this many feelings regarding her until I was tasked with writing this, and a lot of things clicked for me regarding my plans for The Shadow thanks to this ask. @mousebrass, thank you. I mean it. I think I may have found something here I've spent years looking for. Hope you enjoy the post.

I'm thankful that this scenario is only really taking place in a hypothetical fanon where both characters can get a fair shot, because I wouldn't trust DC with this premise. I don't trust DC with either of them as is.

There's a lot of ways that this crossover could go on about taking place naturally, initially because Cass is already connected to some of Batman's pulpier elements, due to her connections to Lady Shiva and the League of Assassins, and one could connect Cass to Myra Reldon (who really should just be race swapped if ever brought back so she can stand out as the cool character she is, without the yellowface gimmick holding her back). There's two things I think are crucial to making the most of this idea, and the first of which has to do with the subject of killing. I usually don't like to come up with hypothetical team-ups for The Shadow that focus too much on the fact that he kills, because it's far from the most significant aspect of his character to focus on, much of it is written from a wrong understanding of the character, and it never amounts to anything other than perfunctory. But here, not only is it completely unavoidable to discuss, here there is actually a very, very substantial grounding as to why this has to be such a big part of the story.

The first and foremost thing that's gotta be established to everyone reading that doesn't know already is this: Cassandra Cain, more so than Batman, more so than any other DCU hero, has a tolerance towards murder lower than zero, and this is completely non-negotiable. She will throw herself on the path of an assault rifle to stop men trying to kill her from accidentally killing each other. The defining moment of her incredibly grim backstory is that she was trained from birth to be the world's greatest murderer, and her first kill traumatized her so badly that she has pivoted as far away from that as possible. I stress a lot that the Shadow should not be written as the trigger-happy maniac comics made him into and that the pulp version killed mostly to defend himself and others, generally left criminals to the police if possible, offered plenty of second-chances, had stories dedicated to the rehabilitation of criminals and so on, but none of this would matter to Cass.

Cass has literally chosen suicide over the prospect of living with murder on her hands time and time again, and The Shadow kills. When he kills, he does so without remorse, with unshakeable certainty. He hates death, he doesn't want lives to be at risk in the first place. But people will die if he doesn't do anything, and what he can do, what he exists to do, is turn the tools of evil against evil, and murder is the oldest tool of evil there is. He doesn't kill because a war scarred him, he doesn't kill because he's got a demon in his soul, he doesn't kill because he's mentally off balance, he doesn't kill because he's evil or sadistic or arrogant or anything of the sort. He kills because the men he fights chose death when they sought to harm innocents and fire guns at him. He kills because he is Death itself.

Regardless of how compassionate he is or can be, regardless of the fact that he's motivated by a desire to protect people, regardless of how justified he is, he is still dropping corpses and laughing maniacally doing so. Cass's real arch-enemy isn't Shiva or David Cain, it's Death, it's the thing that she's fundamentally most opposed to. And guess what The Shadow gets compared to often enough? Literally the very first line of the very first book where we get to see him, this is how we are introduced to him:

So the premise here is that we are taking a character who is defined by her fundamental opposition to death with every fiber of her being, who understands death on a level no other human being does, who is traumatized and hard-wired to detest death at all costs and to choose suicide over it, and asking her to team up with The Grim Reaper.

Even if he received the most abject lesson conceivable on the sheer wrongness of murder, even if he does put down the guns around Cass out of respect for her, he cannot protect his agents and others if he cannot shoot or kill those who try to harm them, and the protection of the agents is absolutely non-negotiable and not at all something he's willing to fuck around with by trying out gadget kung fu superhero alternatives. The Shadow has chosen to throw his life away for their sake time and time again, and no matter how appaling or disgusting Cass finds his deeds, even if he concedes that she's right and should be right on all accounts and that he is fundamentally a monster who has no right to judge others, he would not concede on his mission and he would make it very clear she would have to put him down violently to stop him from protecting others this way, and death has not stopped him before.

And to be upfront in case there's anyone who doubts it, Cass would kick The Shadow's ass, if they had to fight. She is the strongest fighter in the DCU, she lives and breathes fighting and combat in a way no one else does. And The Shadow's not one of those characters who is supposed to be invincible and the best at everything all the time always, he can and does lose fights and scrapes to people far less adept at it than Cass. He's a great fighter, obviously, he hauls bigger men than him through doors and was disabling people with Vulcan neck pinches decades before Spock, and he would definitely have an edge in other areas, but he's out of his league here. Frankly, I don't see The Shadow raising a finger against Cass unless she's been brainwashed into killing people by bad writing. Not because she's a woman, that doesn't really stop him from dealing with evil. But because, for one, she's practically a child compared to him age-wise. Two, he'd obviously know beforehand of her capabilities and how futile it would be to fight or even provoke her. And three, the Shadow's whole thing is knowing. The Shadow Knows and all that. Knowing comes with understanding.

He'd understand very quickly that there is no way someone this young could grow so quickly into the world's greatest fighter without horrific treatment that no one should ever be subjected to. He'd see the movements too practiced and quick, the self-control, the strength and speed far beyond even the trained warriors he's seen, the places where she's been scarred and is good at covering it up. Assuming he doesn't already know about her life story, any meeting between the two would lead to him very quickly figuring out that there's something much deeper about her opposition to killing than just moral reservations, something deeper than Bruce's own gun trauma.

Denny O'Neil's 2nd Batman and Shadow story was about The Shadow secretly helping Bruce overcome gun trauma, and Bruce rejecting The Shadow's intentions to hand him a gun. And to make it clear, people tend to assume that The Shadow only helps people for utilitarian reasons, which is not true as I've tried to demonstrate many times now. I don't want to convey that he would want to help Cass overcome her trauma just so she could be more efficient or something, absolutely no, he'd help her because he helps people in any way he can. I think a story with The Shadow and Cass might involve a similar premise, The Shadow understanding that she has been traumatized very deeply by death and refuses to accept it on any terms, trying to help her overcome it, only to learn that she does not want to "learn" anything she doesn't already know, that she has weaponized her trauma into a source of strength, and wishes nothing more than to help others with it.

And here's where we get to the part that allows the two to be on less antagonistic terms, because one thing that also very strongly defines Cass, at least the Cass I like reading most, is her stubborn, almost desperate need to believe in the best of people, that people can and will change for the better. Like The Shadow, her strength too is knowing, it's perception, the things that she knows about people that words cannot convey. Just as there are many things The Shadow would grow to understand about her that others would not, there would be many things that The Shadow would not be able to conceal from her. Things that no one but her would figure out. Things that, despite her age and lack of experience compared to him, he would have to defer to her knowledge on, which reverses the usual dynamic The Shadow has with people. And perhaps one aspect of that reversal, it's that maybe it's she who winds up secretly manipulating The Shadow into overcoming a deeper issue.

Cass's perspective on killing is shaped not just through trauma, but from a painfully intimate understanding of not just what happens to someone at the time of death, but the cost of murder upon the human soul, the ways it warps people into things they never should have been. Killing is a deeply, deeply serious matter, much more so than fiction seems ever willing to go into. Of course we suspend disbelief for fiction, there's nothing wrong with that, but if a story starts asking questions, starts poking holes into fantasies, they should not be disregarded.

And so it begs a question: How has it affected The Shadow? Is he really as remorseless as he appears to be? Is the fact that he's only killing evil people really of that much use? What's the cost of living as someone who has to know so much about so much evil in so many hearts? Knowledge never comes without price, and knowing evil is his tagline. When he enlists Harry Vincent, he makes it very clear that he has lost lives as he has saved them. From when is that regret coming from? What lives did he lose then? Is he saving people by damning his soul or merely prolonging the inevitable by piling corpses on another end of the scale?

If there's a character that could meaningfully start bringing these questions forth, who could ever truly get The Shadow to stop and reveal things to the audience he never would otherwise, maybe Cass could be that character. A girl who was raised to be a monster, who is treated as a monster and an aberration in-universe (and even outside of it), and turned that into a strength she uses to help others, who cares about everyone and refuses to let others be dehumanized as she was. Who better to know what lurks in the Shadow's heart?

Sometimes when I get an ask, I bullshit my way through infodump walls of text until I can structure it into something vaguely resembling a point. And sometimes, and I know it sounds crazy, but sometimes I get a very, very clear word on my mind related to it before I start writing, that almost seems to be a beacon pointing where I need to get to, and I work my way into getting there. Once you sent me an ask about crossing over The Shadow with Cassandra Cain, the word that came to mind the very second was Language.

It's an interesting relation the two have with language. Language is of course a very substantial part of Cass's character, who does not process language and linguistic development the way most people do, and instead reads body language to the point of superpower. Many stories revolve around Cass's relation to the concept of language, the help she may require from others in getting around things beyond her upbringing, and ways in which she has mastered beyond anyone's scope. Though she is mute, language is her power, what makes her what she is, and she is someone that Batman freely admits could kick his ass if she ever felt like it.

For The Shadow, language is also his power. He speaks all languages and connects allies all over the world, he is an expert ventriloquist, he is able to project his voice beyond what's physically possible, he can imitate voices perfectly to the point of being able to conduct group conversations single-handedly well enough to fool even the people whose voices he's imitating, much of his presence and terror and manipulation are done through his voice, arguably the very reason he exists in the first place is entirely because a radio actor's voice performance was so good and captivating that it tricked people into thinking the character was a real star and not just a glorified narrator. The man you cannot see, but only hear, the perfect hero for radio. And then of course the laugh, which I have a whole separate post on and which, in many ways, acts as a substitute for language in the novels. He uses the laugh so often as a substitute for statements or words, even to himself, that it's pretty much his own personal language. And language is at the core of how he deals with people, as he knows the right language to use to manipulate and move and help them. He knows what to promise, what to reveal, what to omit. He knows what to say, how to say it, when to say it. Language is the strings by which he puppeteers the world around him (and he can talk to animals, at least of one kind).

The Shadow and Cassandra Cain have mastered two different types of Language as throughly as anyone can possibly master them. The Shadow can talk a group of hardened criminals into killing themselves, Cassandra can punch a heart into stopping without killing it. The Shadow echoes his voice "through everywhere and nowhere at once" to whip crowds of thugs into frenzies, Cassandra outraces missiles and was tanking bullets as a child. The Shadow can lie and usurp lives so masterfully to fool even the families of those he's passing off as, Cassandra is a living lie detector who gleams inner conversations from miniscule reactions. The Shadow can speak every language known, Cassandra is the greatest master of the world's most universal language other than music. The two are supposedly human, but every now and then, something comes along to call that into question because of the things they can achieve. They cannot hide secrets from each other the way they do to everyone else. They are driven by a deep desire to help others, to make something out of the circumstances of their lives. To weaponize that which dictates they should be evil and monstrous into a relentless force of good.

Language is the root of understanding. And if nothing else, as impossible as a conciliation of their approaches to crimefighting may be, I think there could be an unique understanding between the two. Perhaps, and this is a bit crazier a concept but one that seems to be where I might have been heading towards all along, even Cassandra Cain finding a calling away from the frayed dynamics of the Batfamily, away from the Bat's looming presence, to become The Shadow's successor, swearing to uphold a mission of justice through non-lethal tactics while he stays on the backseat guiding her. If The Shadow could trust the safety of his agents and the protection of the innocent at the hands of someone as capable and selfless and good-natured as Cassandra, I think he'd be all too happy to be able to trust someone in such a manner, to no longer be the Master of Darkness, but instead to serve the next generation that's weaponized darkness without submerging in it. To achieve, and perhaps return, to his strongest, highest self: A disembodied voice heard, but not seen. Once again the narrator, not the star.

It's a concept I've thought about very extensively for the years I've been a Shadow fan, but now it occurs to me that, if I had to appoint a successor of The Shadow, someone who could take up the mission but shine on their own right, even improve it with the right guidance and circumstances, it would be Cassandra Cain. The Orphan, The Shadow of the Batgirl. Daughter of the greatest assassins, meant to be the world's most lethal murderer, instead pivoted to being one of it's greatest heroes, but never allowed to shine as she should. But in the darker, less restrictive and wilder world of pulp heroes, in The Shadow's world, a beacon would shine all the harder. Perfect strengths attached to perfect opposites, joined together for a greater good, unstoppable after together having weaponized that which most take for granted: the power of language to move worlds.