#and i feel like a man who can hold a basic conversation in french should be able to distinguish that from fucking russian

[forspringtocome]

trying to decide which is worse. my roommate asking me why babs was listening to french music when they were playing a playlist that was 100% just in spanish. or that time in preschool i was taught are you sleeping brother john in french and my dad, who is - at worst - functionally conversational in french, thought it was russian.

[brisquad-unit-4402]

krisis giving you pet names

ofc they'd call you whatever you prefer but these would be their go-tos. technically not a part of the what you call them series but i wouldn’t be opposed to a krisis and what they call you post

there's some french in here. i'm pretty sure the genders in the language are just grammatical, so it should apply to all reader genders/be gender neutral as usual. thanks to my mystake friend for the help, but if there's any errors let me know xx

tags: gender neutral reader, established relationship, fluff, slightly possessive language in vanta's entry, french pet names + translations, pda, brief suggestive content, a bit of gender in vanta's entry but it should still apply to everyone regardless of gender

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

🧻 Vezalius Bandage

his affectionate names are smooth as hell

they roll off the tongue easily and confidently

most of the time it's an interjection in his sentences, so casual you almost don't register it

"it will take about half an hour to get there, mon beauté, so let's leave in fifteen minutes"

"i'm sorry what"

"did i say something, beauty?"

he likes saying pet names offhandedly so he can play innocent

especially since he jumps between the french pronunciation beauté and the english form beauty often to keep you on your toes

if you're taken aback by them he becomes even more of a tease, and won't let up until you admit you like it

when zali's feeling a lot more romantic he'll call you love

it's reserved for late nights, moments of vulnerability, when he can't hold back his feelings

love is rare, but it just makes it all the sweeter to hear. it's always the first thing you hear when you reunite with him after a trip

he likes to call you love when he’s on top of you

and when he's underneath instead, you become my love

when someone’s being mischievous bunny makes an appearance

expect to hear it whenever you're playfully bickering, playing footsie, whatever

whenever you steal food from zali's plate you jokingly call it "the bunny tax"

"hey, don't take my fries."

"it's the bunny tax."

"you have your own rabbit food, though—

"wait, bunny, you're still eating mine!"

another casual name for you is tresór

when you're spending a social evening with friends together, once the party's winding down, he'll lean in closer to you and whisper, "tresór, would you like to go home?"

"mm, kinda."

"let's get you there, then."

"yeah..."

one of your mutual friends notices you and zali whispering together. "something the matter?"

"oh, don't worry, my treasure is just a bit tired." you and zali bid everyone goodbye, even though you feel a little fuzzy at zali just saying the english translation of your name for everyone to hear

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🔪 Vantacrow Bringer

he’s not exactly clingy but he loves mentioning your relationship

so instead of a pet name, he usually calls you my reader

it's because he loves saying your name

yet he loves reminding everyone who you belong to

when he talks about you you’re almost always my man, my girl, my baby, that one’s mine

despite that he’s not immune to it himself

when you call him mine it’s like cupid picked up a sniper rifle

his brain fully short circuits

he lets slip a wide-eyed "wait, i'm yours?"

and when you confirm it, heart-eyed. he giggles. "that means you're mine too."

vanta isn't very creative with pet names, so baby is his go-to

he knows it's kind of a "basic" name but that's the reason he likes it

it's so easy to insert it into conversation!

and everyone knows what you mean to him the second he calls you baby

besides, the real reason he says it is so he can call you my baby

and in moments of warmth, darling

he just has this suave, sultry intonation when he calls you darling, like the r&b songs he likes to sing

if you show ANY weakness he WILL use that whenever he wants to persuade you

"darling, can we buy this?"

"darling, i want that..."

"but my darling, it would make me so happy."

do NOT be convinced otherwise, this man WILL beg and plead the second he gets an opening

despite that he really does want to spoil his significant other

so when he feels most intimate, he wants to treat you like royalty

you're his sweet prince. his little princess. he'll even call you his royal highness

and sure, it's a little corny when you put it like that, but he tries to make sure the tenderness of the moment outweighs how much of a cheeseball he is at heart

the best part is how reverent he says it

you really are the ruler of his heart as a prince, a princess

your royal highness doesn't even begin to cover it how whipped he is for you

like a knight to a ruler he's always at your royal highness' beck and call, and he knows it

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

🥽 Yu Q. Wilson

getting pet names from this guy is rare

he’s easily flustered by them… he rarely goes for pda

even when you’re alone he refers to you by your name just because it's comfortable

which means his cheeks always glow pink whenever he calls you honey

it's hard to slip honey into bickering so it only comes out when he's feeling romantic

and then willy gets flustered by THAT so it always comes out like

"just stay with me for now. h-honey."

out of all the krisis guys he's the shyest about being cute and affectionate

which is hilarious because everything he feels about you is cute...

and affectionate...

more casual than honey is sweetie

you become sweetie whenever he wants your attention, relaxed, or in some cases, whenever he's getting frustrated

at first it seems like it might be sarcastic or biting whenever he calls you sweetie during an argument

"sorry, it's—i'm gonna say it. it's what you mean to me, alright?" he admits once you've both cooled down and talked it out. "i call you sweetie because i don't want to forget how important you are to me even when i'm getting all—"

he gestures wildly, struggling to think of the words without calling himself a dickhead. "i only get pissed off in the moment. i like how calling you that reminds me that i should be paying attention to your feelings, too."

during lighthearted bickering, though, he'll call you cutie!

you're a cutie whenever you make him laugh

yes, you can tell willy has a thing for nicknames that end in syrupy "y" sounds

yes, you can tease him over that too, cutie, and figure out what makes him call you honey or sweetie instead while you're getting him all blushy

he just wants to call you the most adorable things, it just makes sense

it's even harder for him to admit this too, but he kind of likes the feeling of a Super Cool Guy™️ like him using sappy pet names, it's a little embarrassing...

still pales in comparison to what he calls you in french: mon petit chou chou

it's a very old-fashioned name, and it doesn't even have a good translation in english

whenever he calls you mon petit chou chou, you can always call him my little cabbage cabbage in return to mess with him

there aren't even petits choux in canada??

he doesn't even eat petits choux????

doesn't change the fact that whenever he speaks french, you can't understand most of what he's saying, but nothing perks you up like hearing him mention petit chou

he still hasn't realized his chou chou is always on his mind no matter the language

but man, can you hear it in his voice

.　 . • ☆ . ° .• °:. *₊ ° . ☆

✧. ┊ masterpost ✧. ┊ kofi

[oro-e-diamanti]

The one where Ethan is pretending

Description | When you bump into Ethan in Paris, you fail to mention that you know exactly who he is. You’re not sure how long you’ll be able to keep it up when he asks you out for a drink.

Content | Fluff

Pairing | Ethan x gn!Reader (with the exception of one female pet name)

Word Count | 2071

Taglist | @ginny-lily @ethaneskin @tabi-toast @mywritingonlyfans

***

There was no way you were staying in the same place that Måneskin had just arrived at. There was no way, you kept telling yourself. Paris was a massive city, the number of available hotels in the hundreds, maybe thousands if you had to guess. And yet, somehow, you had managed to pick the one place one of your new favourite obsessions would spend their time. You knew it didn't mean much, the hotel had more than a couple of rooms and with your luck, you wouldn't even catch a glimpse of them. But as you kept scrolling through Instagram, seeing pictures of people meeting the four Italians in front of the place you had checked into mere days ago, you couldn't fight a little bubble of excitement forming in your chest.

Well, you told yourself you wouldn't get your hopes up. And you definitely wouldn't hang around in front of the hotel or in the lobby. You had booked your solo trip to Paris months ago, after dreaming about visiting the city for most of your life, and you would be damned if you wouldn't stick to your itinerary and enjoy your holiday. However - you had gotten up at what felt like dawn to go queue up for the Louvre and spent the last couple of hours there, so you decided that a nap was the way to go if you wanted to continue exploring the city in the evening. Fortunately, the walk back to the hotel wasn't long.

You had made it to the last corner before entering the street you were aiming for, when two giggling girls ran past you, unceremoniously bumping your shoulder and sending you tumbling. You were fully expecting to hit the ground, but instead, a pair of strong arms caught you and brought you back to your feet. A pair of strong arms belonging to a strong chest that you came face-to-face with, belonging to a gorgeous face, belonging to Ethan Torchio.

"Tu vas bien?" His broad French accent confused you, momentarily forgetting about the little detail that you were, in fact, in France, as you stared at the drummer in front of you, who was still protectively holding onto your upper arms.

"Huh?" Was the immensely intelligent answer that thus left your mouth.

"Oh, not French?"

"No, definitely not French." You finally said, taking a step back from him to avoid the increasing awkwardness you were feeling about being touched by him, while the two girls who had previously knocked you down were now lingering around the two of you suspiciously, not coming close enough to be rude, but obviously desperate to get their own piece of Ethan. "No, just a tourist."

"Me too," Ethan smiled. "A tourist, I mean. Well, kind of. I'm here with my band so it's not like we have time to do a lot of sightseeing."

He briefly turned around to look at the two girls who still seemed frustrated at you hogging his time and gave a small wave before turning back to you. It was the movement that made you realise he had the most gorgeous red rose tucked into the waistband of his trousers. Well, it used to be the most gorgeous rose - after your little crash, it had bent in the middle, the top hanging only by a thread, in the most miserable fashion.

"Oh, no I am so sorry!" You gasped, carefully grasping the delicate petals that were on the verge of breaking off. "I must have crashed into it when you caught me."

"Don't worry about it," Ethan said, softly, and pulled the stem from his waistband. The flower looked even more tragic now, in all its crushed glory. "A fan gave it to me a few minutes ago."

"Huh?" You surely proved yourself articulate in this conversation. You mentally hit yourself, angry at yourself for being so easily flustered.

"There are a few fans waiting in front of our hotel, because we're in a ... band ... and things."

Apparently, your awkwardness was contagious. Also, it was becoming increasingly obvious that Ethan thought that you had no idea who he was.

"Let me get you a new one," you suggested. "There's a flower shop just two doors down from the hotel - I mean, I am staying there, too, so I know."

He smiled at you with a serenity and calmness that had your heart soaring. You decided you'd be willing to buy him a million roses if only he kept smiling at you like that for a little longer.

"Well, I've got to go now, but it would be rude to refuse your offer. Meet you in the bar of the hotel at 8 tonight?"

No way this was happening. You almost gasped, but at the last moment managed to keep your cool, outwardly. On the inside, you were a mess. Bumping into the drummer of one of your favourite bands was a wonderful chance meeting as it was - but this almost sounded like a date. Now, of course, Ethan wouldn't be asking you out on a date. That would be ridiculous. But there was also no way you would miss out on a chance to meet him again. Preferably without those two giggling girls that were still standing behind him, watching every move of your interaction but luckily too far away to hear what you were saying.

"It's a d- uh, deal," you quickly recovered before almost spitting out the word date instead. Ethan chuckled.

"Right, see you later, then, for our... deal."

He had seen right through you anyway, you thought. But he was still laughing, so it wasn't all that bad - right?

With another quick touch to your upper arm, Ethan walked past you, turning around just one last time.

"My name is Ethan, by the way. You can tell me yours tonight."

Oh, you would.

***

The rest of the day was... well, restless. You couldn't nap because your mind was a whirlwind and your stomach was twisting with excitement. So instead, you had made sure to get the prettiest red rose you could find in the flower shop down the street - while slightly wincing at the price that a shop in the center of the city of love demanded - and put it in a glass the hotel receptionist had been nice to give to you. Then you had decided that there was no way you would manage to relax before 8, so you allowed yourself a few hours simply wandering through the city, no real destination, no itinerary for once, just a nice long stroll with nothing but your thoughts.

At five past eight - being slightly late was still cool, right? - you did a quick check-up in the mirror, realised you were not going to get any happier with your appearance whatever you tried to do at this point, grabbed the rose from its makeshift vase, and left your room.

It only took you a second to see him when you entered the little bar on the ground floor of the hotel. Even in the dim light, the white blouse that he had already been wearing when you met for the first time stood out like a sore thumb. Long dark hair fell over his back in a silky fashion. You had never wanted to touch anyone's hair more.

You took one more deep breath and then walked over to Ethan, smile on your face and rose in your hand.

"A rose for the handsome gentleman?"

Ethan almost jumped, apparently not having heard you coming, but quickly a smirk spread over his face while he stood up.

"I'll take the rose and your name, then."

"It's Y/n."

Ethan greeted you with a soft kiss to your cheek, before taking the rose, pulling your chair back, and inviting you to sit. It was almost ridiculously romantic and if it had been anyone else it would have seemed over-the-top and off-putting, but with Ethan it seemed sincere and fitting.

"Glass of wine, Y/n?" He asked as he casually waved the waiter over to your table.

"Just one. I want to get up early tomorrow for some more sightseeing."

***

It didn't end up being just one glass. It ended up another one and then a bottle shared. But it also ended up with three hours of talking, laughing, teasing, and slowly moving your chairs closer together until you were basically sitting on the same side of the table. You had asked him about his band - still trying to cover up that you knew exactly who they were out of pure fear that he'd reject you for being a fan - and he has asked about your job, your life, your family. In fact, you only left the bar when the waiter had started throwing you annoyed looks while demonstratively cleaning the tables around you.

"I'll bring you to your room," Ethan chuckled lightly as you waited for the elevator. His hand was on the small of your back and it was spreading tingles all through your body. You were standing close enough that you could smell his perfume, a light yet musky scent that encapsulated everything about him.

As soon as the elevator doors opened, he lightly pushed you inside and you found yourself not minding him leading you like this. You pressed the button for your floor, leaning against the wall as you studied the man in front of you. He was a thing of beauty, no question about it, and when he smiled down at you the way he was right then and there, he made you feel like one, too.

"I had a lovely evening, Y/n. Is there any chance I could get your number?"

What a question, you thought to yourself. You'd be mad to refuse him!

You dug your phone out of your cluttered bag. You had switched numbers just a few weeks ago and had not yet learned the new digits by heart. Quickly, you switched it on - and your heart sank. Oh crap. You had completely forgotten about this.

The lockscreen of your phone was a picture of Måneskin.

As you looked up, you realized Ethan had seen. And, contrarily to the reaction that you were anticipating, he was wearing a massive grin.

"Ethan, I am so sorry, I should have told you immediately when we met but I kind of just stumbled into this and you were explaining you were in a band and I didn't know how to say-"

"Dolcezza, calm down. I've known all along."

"Wait - what?"

He didn't explain. Instead, he pointed to your bag - your tote bag - your Måneskin tote bag.

You truly felt like the least intelligent life form on earth.

"I've been carrying that around all day, haven't I?"

While your embarrassment grew, face heating up, Ethan grabbed your shoulders and pulled you into his body. His arms tightly wrapped around your body and you could feel his giggles in his chest, as your head was pressed against it. You didn't hesitate in reciprocating, clinging onto his torso, slowly swinging from side to side. Both of you caught in a tipsy stupor.

You only stopped when the elevator arrived at your floor, both of you stumbling out and dragging each other to your door while clinging on. When you reached your room, you let your back lean against it, pulling Ethan along so you were standing face to face, smiling at each other shily and yet never breaking eye contact.

"Why didn't you say anything?" You finally asked. He stroked your cheek, leaving goosebumps. He had now gotten so close that you could feel his breath on your, drowning in each other.

"I liked pretending."

And then he kissed you. Boldly, unafraid and passionate. You melted like putty under him, letting him take control while letting yourself fall, as his lips moved against yours.

You only pulled away enough to get another glance at him, before once again searching your bag, now one-handed, so you never quite had to let go of him. A small triumphant sound escaped you as you located the key card. Holding it up next to your face, you shot the man in front of you another smirk.

"Why don't we keep pretending? At least for tonight."

It wasn't an offer he was going to refuse.

[circus4apsycho8]

more than a hug. | the batter x reader

Fandom: OFF

Pairing: The Batter x Reader

Warnings: jealousy, cussing

It was no surprise to you that the Elsen were very cuddly creatures. Not only that, but they were very squishy, too. You absolutely loved hugging the cute little guys! Who wouldn’t? They were warm, soft, and sweet.

The first time you had hugged an Elsen was after Dedan had finished yelling at the one. You and your beloved Batter had stepped out of the barn before you found yourself rushing over to the pitiful thing. How could you not? The poor guy looked like he was about to cry.

You were quick to scoop him into your arms. “Hush now. He’s just a mean old man. You did nothing wrong.”

He accepted your hug and buried his face into the crook of your neck. You hear him sniffle a little bit. “Th-thank you…hhh…you’re too kind.”

“You’re welcome,” you mumbled, hugging him a little tighter. You heard your Puppet awkwardly shuffle around, causing a deep chuckle to emanate from your chest. A few seconds later, you set him down onto the ground. The little Elsen had a slight blush on his cheeks.

“Miss, th-thank you and your…uh…friend here for purifying the barns. Even if it didn’t get noticed by the Inspector, we appreciate it…” he teeters off when he notices Batter glaring at him. You smack the Batter’s shoulder and smile down at the Elsen.

“You’re very welcome! Take care of yourself, alright? I think it’s about time we got a move on.” Batter remains silent as you bid the Elsen goodbye.

“I will! Good luck with…whatever you’re doing!” the Elsen wishes before the Batter grabs your hand and drags you behind him.

“Thank you!” you yell, waving at him before turning back to your Puppet.

“Dude, chill. You can let me go now,” you comment. He reluctantly releases his grip on you.

“What was that about?” he demands, looking anywhere but at you.

“He was about to cry, Batter! He was scared! I couldn’t just leave him like that!” you retort, rolling your eyes.

“He would have gotten over it.”

You sigh. “Sometimes a little kindness goes a long way, Batter.”

…

The second time you were cuddly with an Elsen is when you and Batter got stuck in the shopping mall maze. Batter was getting extremely frustrated and you just wanted to get the hell out of that blue hellhole.

So, when you and Batter found a lone Elsen who had claimed to be lost, you declared it was time to take a break.

“I’m lost,” the Elsen said, “I could make a fire with the boxes...to ward off the ghosts...but...that would be too dangerous.”

You immediately began to answer, but Batter pulled you back outside for a moment.

“Don’t answer him.”

You roll your eyes, growing annoyed. He couldn’t just boss you around like that. “He’s lost, Batter. We need to help him get out of here!”

“He can find his way out by himself.”

“Batter. He’s scared. Can’t we bring him with us? It’s only temporary. I can do all the talking, too!” you push, trying to decipher how he’s feeling. Batter frowns at your words, and not for the first time, you wish you could see his eyes. “He might attract a Spectre.”

And it was then and there you knew there was something else wrong. Throughout all of your travels, Batter had strived to attract Spectres so he could Purify them. Hell, he’d even shouted out to them in the smoke mines! So why was he so worried about attracting them now? Especially since they were much weaker here, too?

“Since when are you worried about attracting Spectres?” you grill, folding your arms and narrowing your eyes.

He doesn’t answer for a moment, clearly caught off guard. Shaking your head, you look back up at him. “Look, what’s up with you, man? This isn’t like you.”

“I don’t want him to come with us,” he answers. You don’t buy it, but at the same time you know he’s not going to crack just yet.

With a sigh, you say: “I don’t think that’s all, but I know you won’t tell me. Can’t he just come with us? Who knows, he might be of help!”

He remains silent for a few more moments, then: “Fine.”

You grin before darting back into the room. The Elsen looks up at you hopefully.

“Come on, we can help you get out,” you coo, smiling.

“Wh-what about the ghosts?” he asks.

“We can protect you from them. Trust me,” you answer before offering your hand to him. He takes it gratefully before you pull him up.

“Thank you very much, ma’am,” he replies. You hear the Batter scoff quietly from behind you.

“You’re welcome,” you respond.

“Let’s go,” comes Batter’s voice as he nearly stomps out of the room. You roll your ryes. So much for taking a break.

“Ignore him. He’s always grumpy,” you inform, taking his small hand and pulling him behind you.

…

During your trek through the exasperating maze, you noticed Batter was considerably quieter and tenser. Eventually, you had decided that he would tell you about whatever was bothering whenever it suited him. He seemed to be angry too, if the way he was taking out whatever monstrosity showed itself. It was almost like he didn’t want to listen to you but did anyway. His stubbornness grew to the point where you just allowed him to do whatever he wanted with the battles, so you could comfort the Elsen.

And when, finally, you five reached the Judge, the Elsen quickly thanked you and scampered off while Batter spoke to the Judge. You waved at the unfortunate Elsen before turning back to the conversation at hand.

“Is not this publicity so effective and efficient whilst defying the basics of consumer marketing?” the Judge says once he sees you. The two of them are facing some kind of advertisement painted on the wall.

“For silkier hair: the meat fountains of Alma,” Batter reads, clearly unamused.

“Oh, you can read? Anyway, I am glad to have found you. Maybe you can help me unravel the mystery that fate has placed before me,” the Judge comments. He glances up at you and smiles before trotting over to you. You sit down cross-legged against the wall before he crawls onto your lap. Smiling, you pet his soft fur.

“It turns out that my brother has been living in this area for many years. He has a special affinity for colors of the cool kind. Unfortunately, I have so far failed to cross his path. I have tried to betake myself to the roof of the library, where he resides. However, I found the door closed. Even the long hours of intensive, repeated meowing and compulsive scratching did not do a thing.”

“Aw, I’m sorry Judge. Is there anything we can do to help?” you question, scratching him behind his ear. He mewls in response, flipping over onto his back in a silent request for tummy rubs.

“My request is as follows: if at the bend of a corridor you happen to see Valerie, give him my greetings.”

You nod. “Will do.”

“Okay,” The Batter agrees. “Puppeteer, I’m going to go speak to Zacharie for a moment. Do you mind waiting here while I do so?”

You’re mildly surprised, but you agree anyway. “Uh, no, go ahead.”

“Thank you.” He saunters away, trusty bat in hand with Alpha and Omega following him.

You blink. “That was weird.”

“Eccentric of the Batter indeed,” agrees The Judge, “what do you think is amiss?”

“He’s been acting very…out of character lately,” you muse, “I’m not entirely sure what’s going on.” Is he mad at you? Should you be doing something differently? If so, then why isn’t he just talking to you about it? “I wonder if he’s mad at me.”

“I highly doubt that. Your beloved Puppet could never be angry with you for long,” The Judge responds.

You shake your head, causing the Judge to glance up at you. “I don’t know, Judge. If I did something wrong, he just…he needs to speak up. I guess I should ask him about that, huh?”

The Judge nods. “If you truly believe so, then communication is the sole solution.”

“Alright, then,” you sigh, sifting your fingers through his soft fur.

A few minutes later, Batter reappears in the room, the Add Ons at his side. It was then you realized he didn’t buy anything because you were the one holding the credits.

“You good?” you question as the Judge reluctantly slides off of your lap.

“Yes. We should go,” he answers, although you catch a glimpse of his cheeks, which are…wait, is he blushing? You wonder what the odd merchant had said this time around.

Before you left, however, you approached the masked merchant standing idly behind the counter.

“Ah, buenos dias, dearest Puppeteer. How could I be of assistance?”

“Could I see what you have on you?” you ask. He chuckles.

“Of course, belle femme,” he replies, showing you his wares. You’d grown used to the odd nicknames he gave you.

You ended buying a few Fortune Tickets and some meat, placing all purchased items in your inventory before bidding Zacharie goodbye. Before you can move away, however, the merchant catches your hand in his. You freeze, watching as he lifts his mask ever-so-slightly before he brings the back of your hand to his lips.

“It’s always a pleasure to serve this little ragtag team of yours. Sois prudente, jolie fille.” Releasing your hand, he chuckles at your shocked expression, smirking as he glances at your stunned Puppet.

“Th-thank you,” you stutter before Batter places his hand behind your back and pushes you out of the door.

Once you’re outside, you blink a few times before you’re able to speak again. “Dude. What. The. Fuck?”

Batter shakes his head, probably both at your choice of language and recent events. “Language. I don’t know why he’s…” he sighs.

“He’s so weird. Wait…aren’t you fluent in French? What did he say?” you question.

Batter huffs. “The first nickname was ‘beautiful woman’. The second one was ‘Be safe, pretty girl’.”

Your cheeks grow even redder upon hearing the translation. “W-what? Really?”

He nods, remaining silent as the two of you continue to the park.

“Puppeteer…” he starts, voice soft.

“Yeah?” you ask, looking up at him. He avoids your gaze blatantly.

“I…” he trails off before continuing, “I think we should rest in Zone 0 before going to the park.”

You nod, the exhaustion of getting through the maze catching up with you. “Agreed.”

…

Once you two have reached the abandoned Zone, Batter hurriedly guides you past Zacharie, despite his greeting, and ushers to the upper levels.

“Which floor would you like to stay on?” he questions.

“Here’s fine,” you respond, sliding onto the floor. He hesitates before sitting next to you and dropping his bat onto the floor. You lean your head on his shoulder, causing him to tense up a bit before relaxing.

You hear him sigh again. “I’ve upset you, haven’t I?” His voice sounds uncharacteristically sullen for a man as stoic as he usually is.

“Kind of. I just wish you would talk to me. What’s going on with you, Batter? You’ve been acting weird lately.”

He heaves yet another sigh as you straighten your neck and shift. Batter looks up at you while you move. You end up straddling him with your hands on his shoulders. He stiffens at your gentle touches. From this angle, you can finally see his eyes.

You can’t tell exactly what color his eyes are, so you reach up before grasping the brim of his hat. He catches your wrist gently before you can pull it off all the way.

“Do you mind?” you whisper. “I really want to see your eyes.”

His grip on your wrist loosens before he removes it completely. “Go ahead.”

You smile at him in a silent thank-you before you remove it.

His eyes are a pretty shade of amber. They hold a kind of exhaustion that could only be obtained by fighting for something one couldn’t accomplish.

“Your eyes are beautiful,” you comment, smiling, “why didn’t you want me to see them?”

He bites his lip for a moment before looking away. “I am not entirely sure. I guess I just…don’t want you to see my…my real ones.”

“Your real ones?” you question, tilting your head slightly.

“Yes,” he confirms, placing a hand on your cheek. “I don’t want to scare you.”

“You won’t, Batter. Will you show me, please?” you ask, enjoying the feeling of his hands.

“Very well,” he says, “will you close your eyes for a moment?”

You obey quietly, pressing a hand against his. His hands are much bigger than yours as well as drier and calloused from using his bat so much.

“You may open your eyes now.”

Upon opening them, you find that his amber orbs have been replaced with four eyes. The irises are a deep shade of burgundy while the rest of the eye is a pretty crimson color.

“Whoa,” you breathe, removing your hand in order to trace the skin around his eyes. Even though it’s definitely unnatural for a human, he still looks handsome. “Those are even cooler!”

“You think so?” he questions, still unsure.

“Yes. I mean…I’ve never met anyone with red eyes before. I…I think they look even better than your other ones,” you confess, smiling shyly at him.

He studies your face for a moment before a teensy little smile lights up his face. “Thank you, Puppeteer. Thank you.”

You chuckle. “That’s what you get for having a pretty face. Now,” you lean back a little. “What’s been going on with you?”

His little blush is back, which almost makes you giggle. “Well…it has to do with what I talked to Zacharie about earlier.”

“Oh?”

“Yes. I…whenever I saw you hugging the Elsen or just…being affectionate with someone else, it made me angry. I wasn’t sure what exactly why I was; after all, you were just trying to be comforting. I knew Zacharie would have an answer, and he did. He informed me that…I should tell you. I wasn’t sure how. Eventually, he told me that…I was…jealous.”

You chuckle. “If you wanted a hug you should’ve just asked,” you respond, wrapping your arms around his neck and pulling yourself to him. Burying your face into the crook of his neck, you smile as you feel him return it with a relieved smile. He loosely wraps his strong arms around your waist, pulling you closer to him.

You note that he smells like…bubblegum? Not just any bubblegum, but the kind that’s sort of stringy? Like the baseball gum. You chuckle, inhaling his scent.

Suddenly, he slides his hands up to your neck and he gently pushes you back a little bit, rubbing the tips of his thumbs over your jawline. You move your hands to his chest, right over his heart. It steadily beat beneath your fingertips. After that, your gaze sinks down to see his lips: they’re dry and chapped, but still so, so kissable.

The Batter releases a grunt before he pulls you forward, and your lips collide. He’s gentle and slow at first, testing the waters. When the two of you break apart for a moment, you go in for another one again; this time around, it gets a little more heated.

His hands slide back down to your waist, where he pulls your torso to his. You find your hands tangled in his ivory white hair. You feel him running his hands along your curves, to the small of your back, then retreating to your waist again.

You’re pulled back by the need for air. As you gaze into his red eyes, you recollect just why you love this man. He had protected you, tried to help you when no one else would. Even when he did get a little snappy, it was because he wasn’t exactly sure what to make of both the situation and his own feelings. It was there when you were looking at him, you realized he felt the same way.

He breathes your name, brushing a hand against your cheek again. You can tell he’s at a lost for words.

“I had a feeling you wanted more than a hug.”

[marauderundercover]

Taking Chances Chapter Five: Paris Revealed (Stories/Memories)

Prev

AO3

Marinette flinches back as the room erupts in shouting. The younger boy, who was definitely younger than her and yet almost (if not definitely) taller than her, was fiercely glaring while he screamed at Mr. Wayne in….was that Arabic? The man that walked in with him was waving around the knife in his hand while Dick yelled at Mr. Wayne, his face filled with confusion instead of fury. Glancing around for a way out, Marinette makes eye contact with Alfred who nods behind him. Sneaking away from the group of angry men, Marinette follows Alfred into the kitchen and instantly feels at home. And much calmer.

“I’m sorry.” She mumbles, breathing deeply to avoid spiraling again. Alfred simply hands her a cookie before turning around and putting water in a kettle.

“There is no need to apologize, Miss Marinette. It seems Master Bruce has forgotten all sense today and is instead insistent on acting like a fool. It was wrong of him to announce you like that, without preparing you or the boys beforehand. I do hope that his atrocious display of proper manners doesn’t make you want to leave.” Alfred says, and Marinette’s eyebrows shoot upwards. Was he? Was Alfred actually blaming this situation on Mr. Wayne? Was it Mr. Wayne’s fault? Did he not actually hate her? Did he just make a mistake?

“I- what?” Marinette says, unsure of herself.

“You, my dear, are not at fault. Your father didn’t tell any of his sons that you were coming to the manor today, or that you existed in general. And judging by your face, you weren’t prepared for the boys to be here either.” Alfred clarifies.

“Oh. No, I wasn’t. Mr. Wayne just said that he wanted to get to know me, and he knew I wanted to get to know him. I- my birth mother passed away. But my Maman knew her, so I can find out from her how I’m similar to Bridgette. But neither of my parents knew Mr. Wayne, and I just wanted to know if I was like him, I guess. I didn’t even know who he was until two days ago.” Marinette admits.

“As in you found out Bruce Wayne was your birth father two days ago or-” Alfred trails off, waiting for her to clarify.

“Oh no. I found out the name of my birth father awhile ago. It’s just- I really don’t pay attention to celebrities. The only ones I really know are designers. So I didn’t put two and two together, and I didn’t even know about Bruce Wayne and Wayne Enterprises until a few days ago. My friend Adrien made me google him and that’s when I found out about...the boys.” She says, stopping herself from saying her brothers as she was still unsure if Mr. Wayne actually wanted her like he wanted the others.

“Well I’m certain that things will start to calm down shortly. In the meantime, would you care for some tea?” Alfred asks, holding up the kettle. Marinette nods gratefully, trying hard to stop her inner spiral from drowning her.

---

“What do you mean daughter?” Damian snarls, finally switching to English. Bruce blinks at the boy before sighing.

“I mean, you have a biological sister.” He says, tired and wishing he had been able to convince Marinette to go somewhere else. Not that he didn’t want her to meet her siblings. But it definitely wasn’t the laid back first meeting that he wanted.

“You mean half-sister.” Damian spits out, crossing his arms and sticking his nose into the air.

“Shut up, Demon Spawn. She’s our sister, get over it. Where’d the kid come from? Her mom drop her off?” Jason asks, obviously trying to actually understand the situation.

“No. I first met her at the Museum and had my suspicions. She’s in Gotham on a class trip, and before you ask, yes. We had a DNA test done and yes, I am her father.” Bruce says, frowning when he sees Dick’s hurt expression morph into one of excitement.

“Wait, wait, wait! Was she the girl who was sassing the Joker?” He asks quietly, practically buzzing with excitement. When Bruce nods, Dick cheers and runs from the room. Okay then.

“Wait, she met the Joker?” Jason asks, his expression turning dark. Bruce watches his son’s face morph into one of disgust when he puts it together. “She’s the French kid he had at gunpoint, isn’t she?”

“Yes. Which is one of the reasons why we both thought the manor would be a more appropriate meeting place rather than somewhere public.” Bruce says, sighing as Damian once again starts screaming. This was not what he had planned.

---

After just a few minutes with Alfred, Marinette already felt calmer. Calm enough to giggle at another story about something that one of the boys- one of her brothers- did. Calm enough to let her guard down. And mess up.

“If you wanna see something ridiculous, you should look up the 26th time Monsieur Ramier was akumatized into Monsieur Pigeon. He made all the buildings turn into bird cages and all the food turned into bird seed. Luckily it didn’t last long, but seeing the Mayor of Paris stuck inside a giant bird cage was kind of hilarious.” Marinette rambles, giggling at the memory. It was definitely a needed akuma, situated right between two super destructive akumas. Monsieur Pigeon was, while a nuisance, always a breath of fresh air. His akumatized form was brought on by his fierce protectiveness of the pigeons, which luckily never led to death for civilians.

“Pardon me, Miss Marinette, but could I ask what you mean by ‘akumatized’?” Alfred asks, his posture suddenly stiff. Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. She told someone outside of Paris about the situation happening in Paris. Well crap. Normal Parisians didn’t know about the media block that she had set up with the help of the Mayor and Max. But after her calls to the Justice League were ignored, and she realized how disastrous it would be for a member of the League to be akumatized, the media block was the best choice. Time to act clueless.

“Akumatized, as in, a person is possessed by an akuma? Surely you’ve heard of it. It’s been happening in Paris for almost two years.” She says, hoping he doesn’t ask to see any evidence. This isn’t good, this is awful, this-

“And what is an akuma?” Alfred asks. Okay, this isn’t too bad.

“It’s an evil butterfly sent out by the villain, Hawkmoth.” Marinette says, giving out more information than she’s really comfortable with. Okay, time to change the subject, no more questions about heroes or villains or-

“Marinette!” A new voice calls, sliding into the kitchen, almost immediately falling over.

“Master Dick, have you forgotten about your ban on the kitchen?” Alfred asks, his lips quirking up in amusement.

“Awww, Alfred, I just wanted to talk to Marinette. I feel bad for all of us overwhelming her back there.” Dick says with a pout that somehow doesn’t look ridiculous on him. Despite obviously being at least ten years older than her.

“Don’t feel bad. It was just...a lot all at once.” Marinette says with a small smile.

“So I have to ask, are you the one who sassed the Joker at the Museum the other day?” He asks, a wide grin on his face as he sits on one of the stools. Marinette’s eyes widen and she blinks. How?

“Oh, uh, yeah, I guess. It wasn’t a big deal though. He thought I was a Wayne- well, I guess he figured it out before I did- but I think he just wanted to scare my class.” She says, waving her hand to brush off the topic. She really didn’t want to talk about the Joker. Because she was sure it would turn into-

“I apologize for asking, but have you been caught up in the villain attacks in Paris before?” Alfred asks, Marinette instantly panicking. Sure, she’d been caught up in almost every single akuma battle as Ladybug. But there were a few on record where she was targeted as Marinette, and even a few battles that she assisted as Marinette. And then there was Kwami Buster…

“Well, a few. But basically everyone in Paris has dealt with it at some point. That’s just what happens when there’s an attack so often, you know? And my school seems to be a hotspot but that makes sense because teenagers are full of negative emotions and-” Marinette cuts off her rambling, cursing herself on the inside. Great job, Mari. Now they’re going to be worried or they’re going to think you’re a freak or-

“What do you mean negative emotions? Why would that matter?” Dick asks, his previous cheerful smile replaced with a look that clearly meant business.

“That’s how the villain chooses his targets. Negative emotion. If someone is having a bad enough day, he can take control of them and give them powers and basically destroy the city trying to get to Ladybug and Chat Noir, who are our heroes. I only know what’s been posted on official sites like the Ladyblog or miraculousparis.org.” Marinette says, smiling apologetically and hoping that this conversation can be over.

“Have you ever been akumatized?” Dick asks, tension suddenly filling the room.

“No, thankfully. I’ve found ways to manage my negative emotions so that they can’t take me over. I don’t blame anyone who has been akumatized, it’s hard not to be. But, I also don’t think I’d be able to forgive myself if I was akumatized.” Because then her family would be a target. Because Hawkmoth would know her identity. And if Hawkmoth’s insistence on her being akumatized was anything to go on, she’d be a devastating akuma. And if Ladybug wasn’t fighting in the battle….would the cure even work?

“That is a lot of pressure, Miss Marinette.” Alfred says softly after a moment of tense silence. Marinette grins brightly.

“I can handle it, don’t worry!” She says, hoping no one can tell how hard it actually is. How hard it is constantly being strong. Never truly feeling a negative emotion.

---

Bruce winces at the faux cheerfulness in his daughter’s voice. He had only found out about the Paris situation a few days ago, but he was determined to fix it. Find a solution. Do something to help the city and by extension, his daughter. She’d be going back there soon. Back to a city that was being held hostage by an emotional terrorist. Bruce would fix this. He had to.

Next

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[heauxplesslydevoted]

Water (Ethan x MC)

Warning: NSFW, 18+

A/N: I finally finished the Miami shower sex fic. It’s roughly ~5K words of nonsense, 60% is filth, and the urge to re-write it is strong, but here it is.

Enjoy!

~v~

Being in Miami with Naomi unnerves Ethan in ways he can’t articulate. They aren’t in the confines of the hospital, bound by the strict boss and subordinate boundaries he’s attempted to set for them. And while they’re in the city for a medical conference, he can’t help but feel like he’s just Ethan and she’s just Naomi.

Her presence is overwhelming and intoxicating. From the way she took charge and ordered them drinks on the plane, to the way her luggage spills over their shared hotel suite despite being checked in for less than 3 hours, to the way it feels effortless just walking along the beach with her, Ethan can’t escape her and the role she’s slipped into feels too familiar and comfortable, which actually gives off the opposite effect. It terrifies him.

“We’re in Miami, for goodness’s sake, our hotel is literally on the water, and we are going to the beach,” is what Naomi told him after she slipped out of her plane clothes and put on something more appropriate for the warm Miami weather. She didn’t give him any time to object–and boy did he want to–before catching his wrist and dragging him out of their hotel room.

And that’s how he ended up taking a walk on the beach, the hot sand sticking to his toes, Naomi by his side. For reasons he’s not ready to face, he can’t say no to her and it’s infuriating. But on the flip side, the way her cheeks turn up and eyes sparkle at the enjoyment of the little things like this make his insides twist, and he’s a prisoner to her happiness.

“Come on, we’re hundreds of miles away from the hospital, the beautiful sun is beaming down on us, and there’s nothing but warm sand and ocean breeze around us. You have to admit that this is nice,” Naomi urges, poking Ethan in between the ribs.

They came to Miami on a mission, and that was to get help for Naveen and also fulfill his duties to the hospital. Frolicking on the beach was nowhere on the agenda.

“We’re here for work. And besides, I could be spending this time catching up on sleep or enjoying our air conditioned suite. That’s my definition of nice.”

“I swear, you probably came out of the womb a grumpy old man,” Naomi teases. “At least try to unwind.”

“The fact that you managed to drag me out here is testimony enough, don’t you think?”

“Nope,” Naomi says, leaving no room for debate. This is one of those times where Ethan isn’t all that enamored by her stubbornness.She sits down in the sand, throwing down her sandals. She extends a hand, and after a few seconds Ethan sighs and begrudgingly accepts it, allowing her to pull him down as well.

“Now close your eyes,” Naomi orders, watching Ethan closely to see if he listens. Once he realizes that she isn’t going to stop glaring at him, he closes them. “Thank you.”

“I’m only doing this so you’ll eventually leave me alone.”

“Always the fuddy duddy. Can you sit in complete and utter silence for 10 seconds? Please?”

Something about the way she says that word only adds to the list of things she does that make him uneasy. Only because he hates the way he responds to her plea, something stirring in the pit of his stomach.

It’s hard for him to handle the stillness of the moment. He’s gotten too used to always moving, always having something to do, but he sucks it up and tries.

“When was the last time you took a vacation?” Naomi asks.

“Is it bad to say I don’t know?”

“Yes. I’d kill to have your vacation days.”

“Well what about you?”

“I went to Aspen with my family for Christmas last year,” Naomi replies. “We used to go on at least one vacation a year when I was a kid. I don’t know how much of that I’ll be doing with my residency, but it’s nice to get away, even if it’s for a few days, you know?”

“I do. I think it’s been a solid three years since I had a real vacation. I went to Italy.”

“Rome?”

“Florence.”

“Did you have fun?”

“Of course.” Ethan feels her thumb trace a circle on the inside of his palm, and that’s when he notices that they never stopped holding hands when she pulled him down, and his pulse skitters. Part of him believes Naomi doesn’t notice she’s doing it, so he stays silent.

“Do you speak Italian?”

“I’m fluent in all of the Romance languages,” Ethan admits.

Naomi scoffs and playfully nudges him with her shoulder. “No one likes a show-off, polyglot.”

“What about you?”

“I speak very minimal French. My grandma taught me some basics when I was a kid and spent my summers with her, and I tried to fine tune my skills in high school, but I’m not fluent.”

This is the first time he’s heard her talk about her family, even a little bit, and he clings to the information as if it’s precious.

This time when the conversation tapers, Ethan actually doesn’t mind the silence, and he revels in the presence of the pretty intern beside him, her hand still warm in his.

“I should’ve booked you a spa treatment,” is how Naomi eventually breaks the silence. Ethan’s eyes snap up and he stares at her. “What?”

“I don’t think I’m a spa treatment kind of guy.”

“The sauna could be nice. Or a mud bath.”

“You’re such a comedian, Rookie.”

“I’m serious!” Naomi leans forward and presses her thumb between his eyebrows, gently massaging the crease. “I think a day at the spa would be good for you. Relatively speaking, you’re too young to be getting wrinkles.”

“What does that mean, relatively speaking?”

“You’re young in comparison to the average life span, but compared to me you’re…”

Ethan raises an eyebrow in challenge. “Are you trying to call me old?”

“It’s fine,” Naomi assures him. “Lucky for you, I like older guys.”

As soon as the words leave her mouth, Naomi realizes her grave mistake. She’s said too much, revealed her slip, and the double meaning of the sentence hangs in the air between them. Ethan’s eyes widen. His eyes fall on their still interlocked fingers before flitting back to her face, and that’s when Naomi notices that they’ve been holding hands. This entire time.

Ethan leans forward, until their faces are mere centimeters apart. Feeling bold, he takes one of her loose ringlets, curling it around his finger.

���Ethan, I–”

He stands so abruptly, Naomi almost falls over but she catches herself with her hands.

Ethan clears his throat, trying to center himself. What the hell was he thinking, nearly kissing his intern? How did he get so caught up that he almost crossed that line?”

Naomi stands up, wiping off the back of her shorts. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing is wrong, Dr. Valentine.”

The name change feels like a physical strike. He hasn’t called her by her formal title the entire time they’ve been out here, but now she’s back to Dr. Valentine?

“Are you sure because I could’ve sworn that you were about to–”

“You know what? I think I’ve had enough of this beach excursion for the day, and I’m going to rest before we have to go to the party later on?”

A party? Where the fuck did that come from? “Ethan, slow down. A party? What party are you talking about?”

“Every year there’s a party hosted in conjunction with the party. It’s a black tie event, so please dress accordingly. See you later.”

His long legs carry him away before she can even reply, and he’s trudging back to the hotel, leaving Naomi more confused than she was ten minutes ago.

They were sharing a moment and Ethan was going to kiss her…right? This isn’t some fever dream, she didn’t just make that up, it is a fact. And just as fast as they were connecting, he put up a wall and shut her out.

She sits down again, ruminating over the situation and trying to wrap her head around it all.

After a while, annoyance forms in the pit of her stomach. Ethan doesn’t get to just play with her like a ping pong. And if she misread the situation, he should be big enough to tell her that to her face, not run off. And the more she thinks about it, the more she stews, and the annoyance turns into anger simmering under her skin. She stands, brimming with righteous indignation. He doesn’t get to walk away from her, and she’s going to tell him as such.

The trek back to the hotel only makes her angrier, because she only has time and opportunity to think, especially with the long elevator ride up to their suite. Once she makes it to the room and the door shuts behind her, she hears some shuffling around coming from the en-suite as well as running water.

“Ethan, I don’t know who the hell you think you are, but you need to explain whatever that was on the beach,” Naomi starts. She doesn’t get an immediate response from him. “The walls aren’t that freaking thick, I know you can hear me.” She inches closer to the door and notices that it’s been left slightly ajar. “And you left the door open, genius. Now I really know you can hear me.”

Maybe the walls really are that thick because she thinks she hears him talking, but it’s muffled. She almost lets it go until she hears a gruff, “Naomi!” come from the other side of the door.

So he can hear her. Good! Because she has a lot to say. She doesn’t give it a second thought, she charges towards the bathroom and forcefully pushes open the door.

What on earth was she thinking, barging into the bathroom like a bat out of hell?

The correct answer to that is she wasn’t thinking, fueled only by her need to argue with the infuriating man who left her on the beach like an idiot.

And now she’s standing in front of him and he’s stark naked.

The professional clothes and the white coat he wears at the hospital do an amazing job of keeping him contained, but here in this bathroom, Naomi realizes for the first time just how massive this man is. Tall isn’t enough of a description. His wide shoulders lead down to powerful arms, all corded muscle and tension. His chest, those defined pecs and a six-pack. Of course he’d be built like this underneath those clothes. Like a Greek fucking god. Of course.

That still isn’t what steals her breath straight from her body. It’s his hand, strong and powerful, wrapped around the base of his cock.

She should really say something. Apologize profusely. Beg to keep her spot in the competition, beg to keep her job at Edenbrook period. But she can’t. Any form of coherent or rational thought has been banished from her brain, and this soaking wet image of her boss is the only thing running through her mind.

Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates.

And if he’s still thinking about the moment they shared less than an hour ago, coupled with the fact that she heard him call out her name, it’s safe to assume that Dr. Ethan Ramsey masturbates to thoughts of her.

The realization makes her flame, and Naomi swears her body temperature has spiked to near feverish. And the fact that Ethan isn’t doing anything to right the situation—putting his hands in a more appropriate place, saying something, yelling at her to leave—only makes things more insane. He keeps his eyes fixed on her, his gaze so intense, she swears he can see her brain.

The angel on Naomi’s shoulder is screaming at her to stop gawking at him like some fish out of water, but she can’t. Now that she’s seen him, really seen him, she doesn’t know how she’ll ever go back to him being anything other than this, six feet, five inches, 200 pounds of pure unadultered sex.

The urge to touch him is so strong, she doesn’t think she’ll be able to do anything else until her hands are on him.

Swallowing whatever nerves are trying to creep up, Naomi takes a tentative step forward, and reaches for the glass door. The glass pane slides away so slowly, she almost wonders if it’s her subconscious giving her enough time to bolt before she makes even more of an ass of herself, but she ignores whatever annoying voice in her head is telling her to go.

“I’m not an idiot, Ethan. I’m not naive, and I’m not blind.” Naomi takes another step forward, the steam of the shower and a light spray of warm water hitting her face. Gingerly, her hand finds purchase on his chest, and they settle on his left pec.

His heart is beating so wildly, Naomi actually gasps at the erratic thumping beneath her fingertips. “Naomi–”

“I was so confused earlier,” Naomi confesses. “I thought you and I had been vibing these past few weeks, I thought you and I actually had something. And then we had our near first kiss earlier, but you pushed me away and ran off faster than a lightning strike, and I was hurt, and convinced that I completely misread the situation. So imagine my surprise when I walk in on this. You are horribly affected by me.”

“Naomi.” The way he says her name is so much rougher than it was previously, and it sends a shiver down her spine. Yup. So affected.

“It’s okay though, you don’t even have to say anything,” she continues. Taking Ethan’s free hand, she places it on her own chest so Ethan can feel her own erratic heartbeat. “Because trust me, I feel the exact same way.”

He doesn’t say anything else, opting to pull her in by the front of her t-shirt instead, what very little restraint he had over himself gone in this instant. The full blast of water comes as a shock, but Naomi can’t even react to it before Ethan slants his mouth over hers, pulling her into a bruising kiss.

The first thing she notices is just how rough his stubble is as it scrapes her mouth. The second thing is she probably would have fallen over due to how forcefully he pulled her into the shower, and she’s thankful his grip on her is as tight as it is.

Fireworks. A million fireworks going off at the same time. That’s what kissing Ethan feels like.

He sets the pace, but she kisses him back with just as much fervor. He kisses her like they have all the time in the world and none at all, passionate and intense, like he wants to devour her.

Her lungs protest against this endeavor, practically begging her to inhale something other than Ethan. But she doesn’t want to stop kissing him, even if it’s just for a second.

Thankfully Ethan makes the first move to separate them, breaking the kiss. His tongue licks along her neck and her head falls back in pleasure. So caught up in their kiss, it’s easy for Naomi to forget that she’s fully clothed, Ethan tugging at the fabric of her shirt quickly reminding her.

The water has the clothes clinging to her like a second skin, and Naomi giggles at the frustrated huffs Ethan lets out in his quest to undress her. The giggle turns into a full on squeal as she hears the telltale sound of a rip as her t-shirt ends up on the shower floor, followed by her shorts, and Naomi has to kick off her sandals to assist.

Once her clothes are in a sopping wet heap on the floor, Ethan regains control of the situation. Naomi’s back is pressed against the cold marble wall and Ethan’s mouth is on hers again, bruising and hard. It’s almost like he wants to punish her through his kisses.

“I have tried my absolute hardest to keep you at arms length,” is the first full sentence he’s said since Naomi entered the bathroom. “I compartmentalize my feelings for you, I am constantly reminding myself of our power dynamic. And you just keep inching your way closer at every single turn despite my best efforts.”

Naomi hums in reply. “Maybe you shouldn’t have been trying to keep me away in the first place.”

He’s kept her away because he knew. Ethan knew Naomi would find a way to get under his skin, leaving him to feel open and raw like he just got scrubbed with sandpaper. Having her like this is a fantasy come true, and he knows without a shadow of a doubt that once this line is crossed, he’ll never want to go back. He can be a selfish bastard sometimes.

“If we do this then–”

“I’m a big girl, Ethan,” Naomi assures him. One of her hands reaches in the tiny space between them, and she grips his erection. Ethan shudders and leans forward, crowding her space even more as she strokes him at a leisurely pace. “And we can talk about all of the messy stuff later, but right now, talking is the last thing on my mind.”

“Alright, Rookie. Enough talking.”

Her underwear is off before another word can be uttered.

Naomi isn’t sure what she was expecting, but he slides two fingers inside of her before she can think, and the sharp intrusion leaves her gasping. Ethan doesn’t treat her with kid gloves, the quite opposite actually. Whatever sound she’s going to make, he quickly swallows with a kiss.

Naomi is expressive. It’s one of the first things Ethan noticed about her. She’s going to be seen and heard at all times, and that extends to the bedroom. And since he has effectively cut her off with a kiss, Naomi sinks her nails into him, one set on his shoulder, the others raking through his hair, urging him to continue his ministrations. Good.

He breaks the kiss, leaving a trail of tiny kisses and bites along her jaw, neck, and collarbone, paying special attention to her nipples, lavishing them with his tongue. He drops to his knees in front of her, urging her to lean backwards against the wall behind them and Naomi does so without an ounce of hesitation.

The one hand not currently playing her like a fiddle runs along the smooth expanse of her curves, tracing every dimple and mark he can find. He does this until his eyes fall on the tiny tattoo marking her skin, resting on her hip. “I never took you as a tattoo kind of girl.”

“I have a few secrets left to tell, Ramsey.”

“Why on your hip?”

“My parents would’ve killed me if I got it somewhere visible,” Naomi explains breathlessly as Ethan continues to stroke her, slowly coaxing her towards an orgasm.

Ethan places a kiss on her left hip, right below the tattoo as if it’s to be revered before sucking a mark on it. Something to remember him by.

“Naomi?”

“Hmm?”

“Eyes on me,” Ethan commands her. It’s a tough task because the steam and the water have made it difficult to see and she would enjoy nothing more than to close her eyes and fully revel in what he’s doing to her, but they manage to lock eyes. “Good girl.”

The first swipe of his tongue against her makes her legs buckle, but thankfully Ethan keeps her upright.

His fingers curl inside of her, and Naomi swears her vision goes blurry for a second, but not once do her eyes waver from his. Ocean blue irises hold her gaze, and she feels like they’re burning her from the inside out. Everything is hot, too hot, but at the same time she feels like she might go insane without it.

The strokes are slow and languid. In, out, curl, twist, keeping pace with the way his tongue laves against her clit. Soon her breathless whimpers become more ragged, more labored and she grabs a handful of Ethan’s hair, tugging it so hard, she’d worry about actually pulling it out if she cared about anything other than finding the edge of the cliff he’s so close to pushing her off. Ethan can tell she’s close. The incessant tugging at his scalp, the increasingly louder moans, and the way her hand slaps against the wet tile.

She knows it’s coming, but her orgasm takes her by surprise, pleasure seizing her at the base of her spine. Her legs tense up and her entire body falls forward, taking Ethan with her. He cushions her fall, and they both land with a hard thud.

Naomi giggles again. And soon that giggle becomes a full on laugh, so uncontrollable that Ethan wonders if she’s snapped.

“I’m sorry. I’ve just never…fallen over during sex before,” saying that out loud makes her laugh again.

“And is this a good thing?”

Naomi leans forward and kisses Ethan, smiling through it. “We’ll you’re the first guy to ever make my legs give out in the middle of an orgasm so…yes. I’d say it’s a very good thing.”

Well that is a healthy ego boost, Ethan thinks to himself. “Good to know.”

When blood circulation has returned to her legs, Naomi stands up, pulling Ethan along with her. She deposits him on the spacious bench built in along the back wall of the shower and he falls onto the seat with a hard thud.

He watches through hooded lids as Naomi straddles him, undulating against him in a way that makes him want to take control and bury himself to the hilt inside her.

“Question for you, Ethan Ramsey,” Naomi starts.

“Answer for you, Naomi Valentine.”

“When I walked in here, were you thinking about me? Was I the subject in your dirty little fantasy?”

“Always,” Ethan is shocked by how breathless the answer comes out, but at this point, pride and ego aren’t needed. Not when they’re like this. “Since day one, I have been consumed with nothing but thoughts of you.”

“Mhmm, what was I doing in this particular fantasy?” Naomi asks. She takes him into her hands, and at a tortuous pace, rubs the swollen tip of his erection against her clit, drawing out a moan from the older man.

His memory fails him. Nothing he conjures up in his head will ever be comparable to the sight of a naked Naomi in his lap. She’s so beautiful, water droplets clinging to her skin, lips kiss swollen, loose strands of hair clinging to the sides of her face, her round cheeks flushed.

He doesn’t remember what the fantasy entailed, he just knew this woman’s presence was so overwhelming, if he didn’t expel some of the tension, he wouldn’t survive going to a black tie event with her.

“I don’t know. I don’t care,” Ethan says honestly. “The real you is so much better.”

“I think I like that answer.”

Ethan lifts her by the hips and in one smooth thrust, he’s fully sheathed inside of her. He notices that way Naomi’s eyes are fixed on where they’re joined, glazed over by pleasure and he’s never seen something so erotic.

She starts to move, slowly at first because she’s still way too sensitive from her last orgasm to do anything else. But the slow pace she sets does nothing to ease her, it only makes things worse. Every slow glide, every brush of his pelvis against her is magnified tenfold, and the heat she felt earlier has turned into a bull blown inferno, consuming every inch of her. But now, the only way out is through, and she’s trapped in a delicious purgatory until the next wave hits. It only intensifies when Ethan’s mouth closes around one of her nipples, sucking fiercely. “Oh, fuck.”

He releases the bud with a soft ‘pop’, pulling a soft groan from her lips. Her head falls back, but Ethan catches a fistful of her hair and drags her back, forcing her to make eye contact. “Eyes on me, Rookie. I want to see your face.”

The tiny pinpricks of pain at her scalp give way to pleasure as his grip on her tightens. “Harder.”

Ethan smirks and wordlessly obeys the order, pulling Naomi’s hair even harder as she moans. Huh. He’s going to tuck this information away for a later date and time.

The hand not holding her hair goes back to her hip and he squeezes tightly before guiding her up and down. And that’s when the pressure starts building again, up, and up, and up, until the only sounds that can be heard are the obscene slaps of their wet skin and her broken whimpers. His hand leaves her hip, not having to move far before his thumb is on her clit, working it in soft circles.

Naomi comes so hard, her teeth chatter and she’s almost afraid of cracking them. Unable to keep up the eye contact, she leans forward, resting her forehead against his. He gives her a second to catch her breath before he rocks into her, trying to chase his own release.

“Naomi, I…fucking I’m going to–”

She nods, understanding exactly what he’s trying to say. She bites down on his earlobe, tugging. “Inside me.” Then she kisses the patch of skin right below his ear and grinds against him once more. “Or on the tattoo.”

Holy fuck. That alone sets him off like a bottle rocket. He bites down on her shoulder hard enough to break skin.

His heart beats so wildly, he doesn’t know if it will ever return to its normal resting state. With his arms wrapped around her like this, he wonders if this is their new normal. How that he’s been with her like this, how on earth will she go back to being his subordinate. Everything about her feels like euphoria, her taste, her touch, her scent is embedded in him, so deep in his skin, she might as well be woven into his DNA. But the thing about it is, he’s not sure he wants it to.

On top of being a selfish bastard at times, he is wildly possessive.

It takes a long time for them to separate , neither one of them wanting to move or disrupt the peaceful little bubble they’ve created within the confines of this shower.

Eventually Ethan pulls Naomi off of him, but his grip on her remains steady. He stands as well and reaches behind him, grabbing the bottle of shower gel he has on the shelf. It isn’t until the clean scent of citrus and sea salt hits her nose does Naomi realize he’s using his shower gel. A chill sweeps through her. Sure they just had sex–great sex even–but sharing this man’s shower gel is a subtle intimacy that she wasn’t prepared for, and her chest goes tight.

“I smell like you,” Naomi murmurs sleepily.

“Is that a bad thing?”

“Of course not, you always smell good. I do draw the line at sharing shampoo. Whatever shit you use might destroy my hair.”

Ethan snorts. “I saw the amount of hair goop you stuffed into your suitcase. Trust me, I won’t get in the way of that routine.”

Once they’re both sufficiently lathered, they duck under the water to rinse off, and they finally step out of the shower. The entire room is full of steam, and Naomi almost feels bad that they wasted so much hot water. God, her skin is going to be so dry if she doesn’t moisturize soon.

Ethan wraps her in a large white terry cloth bathrobe before wrapping a towel around his waist.

“I’m still mad that you didn’t give me any sort of notice about this party,” Naomi huffs. Ethan rolls his eyes and takes a step forward, his hand wrapping around her waist, pulling her closer until her back is firmly against his chest.

“It’s in a few hours, how much more notice do you need?”

“What if I didn’t pack an appropriate dress?” Naomi implores hypothetically. “Or shoes?”

He shrugs. “I have a credit card, and this hotel has a boutique.”

“Well lucky for you, and your wallet, I packed a few dresses,” Naomi says. Her mother taught her to be prepared for any situation, including the spur of the moment black tie event. “I’ll pull together something decent.”

“You’re beautiful, you always look more than decent.”

“Compliments will get you everywhere with me, Ramsey.”

Using the palm of her hand, Naomi wipes some of the steam off of the mirror in front of them and takes a good look in the mirror. She looks thoroughly debauched. It’s going to take a miracle to pull herself together with just a few hours’ notice.

She also notices the dark mark blooming on her right shoulder, outlined by teeth marks. Ethan’s bite is only going to get darker and more prominent as time ticks on.

“I don’t know if I’ll be able to cover up this mark you gave me though.”

Ethan slides the robe off of her shoulder to examine the bite mark. He runs his thumb along it soothingly before planting a kiss on the spot. “I have a solution.”

“Oh yeah? What?”

Instead of replying immediately, Ethan bends down slightly and scoops up Naomi, bridal style. “How about I give you a matching one on the left shoulder?”

~v~

Tags: @openheartfanfics @mvalentine @choicesaddict5 @professorkingslay @maurine07 @aka-calliope @bluebellot @whimsicallywayward15 @blossomanarchy @takemyopenheart @jamespotterthefirst @fanmantrashcan @whatchique @ao719 @x-kyne-x @paulfwesley @the-pale-goddess @writinghereandthere @ramseyandrys @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramseyx @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @cecilecontrera @thatysn @bellcat2010 @blainehellyes @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @desmaranj @nazario-sayeed @aestheticartsx @ruinedbypixels @nooruleman @rookie-ramsey @uneravine @choicest @schnitzelbutterfingers

[inkmemes]

this  country  (  2017  -  2020  )  sentence  starters ↪  taken  from  the  bbc  mockumentary.  trigger  warning  for  mentions  of  religion,  death,  sex.  alter  as  you  see  fit  ♡

“i like the underdog.”

“don't be a fucking dick.”

“everyone comes together on days like today and just forgets their utter hatred of each other.”

“everyone who's anyone's going to be there and there are people from my past that would love to see me slain.”

“there's a tea rooms there and under the counter they've got a panic button and if i take one step inside, they can press that. the police will be there in three minutes.”

"he whatsapped me the other day asking us to go laser quest with him and i ... well, i clicked on it by accident, didn't i? so he knows i've seen it."

"i mean, i get it, but it's not making me feel nothing."

“it's baffling. i'm baffled by the entire situation, if i'm honest.”

“what the actual fuck? what the actual fuck? you have fucking lost your head, mate. you have lost your fucking head.”

“when i get hold of you, i swear to god i will fucking deck you.”

"someone's just been throwing plums at my house. i'm going to kill them. i can't believe it. i can't believe it. all over this. plumming on here, plumming on that. plum on the sofa, look! there's nothing left that hasn't been plummed."

“i've had a target on my back since the day i was born.”

“thank you very much, enjoy your free potatoes.”

“do you know how small your brain is?”

“hogwarts is that way, dumbledore.”

“he used to say i looked like the puppet off the dolmio advert.”

“there's a kid crying over there. do you want me to...? i can tell him to shut the fuck up if you want?”

“he genuinely looked like a moomin.”

“on my first day of karate club, karate master goes to me, [name], i don't know why you're here because i can't teach you anything. if anything, you should be teaching me." and just gave me his black belt.”

“you know that little old blind man? yeah, when i was punching him in his face, the lens from his glasses broke and cut my knuckle.”

“some things are just best left in the past, where they belong.”

“what's the point in knocking if you're just going to walk in anyway?”

“it was a miscarriage of justice though, cos what people forget is 12 out of them 20 hostages actually found it funny.”

“i lied so much i still don't know what's real life and what's plain lies.”

“i'm so glad you're out of that lying phase.”

“he likes to be the only person on the road, so whenever he sees a car coming the other way he just pulls over.”

“nasa went through hundreds of them in the '60s. and now every time i see a really bright star in the sky i can't wish on it, cos in my head i'm thinking, ‘that's probably just a spacecraft with some monkey bones in it.’”

“you absolute traitor. that's my cheese - it's my fucking house!”

“don't you dare eat that cheese. you eat that and i will smash this. i promise you, i will smash you with this.”

“fuck! you switched them!”

“yeah, i can see it's fucking burnt, sherlock.”

“i honestly am ashamed to know him, sometimes.”

“if you knock on someone's door, don't take no for an answer. get into their house. if they say, ‘leave my house’, stay. and if they say, ‘i'm going to call the police’, you walk upstairs and see if there's anybody else upstairs to sell to.”

“she looks like uncle fester.”

“right. i'm going to piss in their flowers, then.”

“you really need to go home. your mum's called the police and everything.”

“you're also fired from being my best mate, by the way.”

“in business, there will always be setbacks. i don't drink my own juice, fray bentos doesn't eat his own pies. but that's business.”

“do you know what, i don't actually want to play this any more, because it is actually very, very boring.”

“i'm ashamed of myself, that's not usually me, so don't get the wrong impression.”

“i genuinely think one of them fancies me as well.”

“it's fate her moving across the street.”

“the problem with finding a girlfriend in the village is that most of the girls you meet round here are old-age pensioners.”

“yeah, i am looking for a relationship, but thing is i've just got so many trust issues, yeah, with being fucked over massive in the past, so no matter how much i get close to someone now i'm thinking in the back of my head, ‘shit, am i going to get fucked over?’ because i've been fucked over in the past massively. my last relationship proper fucked me up.”

“i went through a really dark phase. listening to papa roach and just blowing everything up with them little french bangers.”

“shut up, you don't know what you're talking about!”

“i don't like the man. i know he's my uncle, but i don't like him.”

“it's just malicious lies, that's all it is.”

“i'm not saying i've got a cruel heart, but if she ain't willing to take me as i am rather than the monster i've become, then she can literally just jog on back to sea with all the other fish cos i don't care.”

“what do you look for in a boyfriend?”

“the key to dating, yeah, is the two rs and the three ts. 'respect, rapport, and talking, talking, talking.' don't ever let that ball hit the ground. good relationships are built on great conversation.”

“on a date, you've got to tell them all the interesting stuff about you, because that's what they'll be interested in.”

“he said to me, he goes, ‘you can't smoke on here.’ i said, ‘i'm not smoking, i'm vaping.’ the look on his face when i said that. i don't think he knew what vaping… what a vape is.”

“you would make me the happiest mouse if you say yes and become my spouse.”

“here's a tip, [name], next time you take a chick out on a date, don't bore her to tears.”

“roses are red, violets are blue, i've got five fingers, the third one's for you.”

“get out of my way, pipe cleaner.”

“[name] phoned me the other day at three in the morning saying, ‘come quick,

there's a hedgehog in the garden that looks exactly like grandad.’ so i got up, i got dressed and i ran over to [name]'s as fast as i could and then i just stopped in the middle of the street at three in the morning and thought, ‘what the fuck am i doing with my life?’

“you're joking me? because if you are joking me, that is massively harsh.”

“oh, let me get a song up on youtube. you're going to absolutely love this, [name]. here we go… listen to this. oh, for fuck's sake, advert.”

“let's go down the pub and get shitfaced.”

“where do i see myself in five years? well, me and [name] will have a flat in the middle of the village and all of our furniture will be inflatable and we'll have cable and it will pay for itself, because we're going to use the spare room to breed quails, because their eggs are worth fucking shitloads.”

“is this about the calippo, still? because you offered to buy me that.”

“if he wants to go, good luck to him, i say. i reckon he thinks that i can't live without him, which is a laugh, because he went a whole weekend away once and i got on all right. i just ended up following this cat around the village.”

“i've got to do what's right for me, at the end of the day, instead of worrying about other people.”

“how about you say sorry? sorry for the massive knife that's hanging out the back of my back because of you.”

“oh, and while you're stabbing me in the back, feel free to bend down and kiss my arse.”

“can i just ask you an honest question? why would you want to leave the village when we've got a pub and a shop?”

“i think you don't know how lucky we have it to be doing nothing with our lives, like. we're all going to die, anyway, so what's the point in doing anything?”

“i want ownership of the words fucknut and dickmilk.”

“i had this come through the post. and i've got a few concerns about it. firstly, this guy on the front looks really arrogant. not the sort of guy i was expecting, if i'm honest.”

“this is starting to stress me out a little bit.”

“why are you trying to stress me out? you know i'm already stressed out as it is.”

“the bloke that used to live in there, right, kept hearing strange noises coming out of his attic at night. and he'd go to the fridge and find that food was missing from the fridge. so he thought, ‘i'm just going to go up to the attic and check this out.’ and he found an entire family of peruvian panpipe buskers just living up there. and he thought ‘i'm just going to leave them to it, ‘cos they're not really doing me any harm.’ and then, a few years later, he thought, "well, i'll just go up to the attic to check on them. ‘see if they're all right.’ and it turned out they'd all died of asbestos poisoning. yeah, he doesn't live here any more.”

“some people will always be scared of me, and i can't change that, no matter how nice i am. but there's a balance to be had between being nice and being feared.”

“don't really like catching up. it's not my thing.”

“i just watched this video of this girl doing a random act of kindness on youtube. she basically paid for this old man's shopping at the till. and this old man was, like, about 90 years old. and he's so fucking old, like, you could see through his skin. and he just starts bawling his eyes out. he's like, ‘you're fucking joking me, this ain't fucking real life.’ i just thought... i want to make someone feel like that. ‘cos that's... i really… that's what i want to do.”

“i'm not dead. just can't be arsed to text her sometimes.”

“you know, correct me if i'm wrong, but four texts a day is complete madness. no-one can keep up with that.”

“i am doing kind things selfishly.”

“i was at midnight mass one year, right, someone got tipped off i was there. as i was coming out the church, someone tries to shoot me with a crossbow.”

“well, i haven't seen the film, have i? that's why i came here - to watch the fucking film - like a normal human being.”

“i've made an effort by coming here tonight. i didn't want to come.”

“i had to wheel him here from his house in an asda trolley, cos he was just too heartbroken to move.”

“sometimes you don't know what you got until you ain't got it any more. like blockbuster's. i just took 'em for granted - and then, one day, gone, and you spend ages trying to figure out what went wrong, and then you realise it was your fault all along.”

“i thought you said you wanted to fix things.”

“she wanted it to go that way, and it just wasn't gonna go that way. she even got me thinking that they'd get back together… ..but that's manipula.... manipulative people... do that. and he's better off without her.”

“that wasn't much to write home about.”

“it's fucking dead, isn't it?”

“basically, somebody's been sending me threatening letters, and i don't know who's doing it - and i am concerned, because my peripheral vision is poor, so, if somebody attacks me from the sides or snipes at me from an upstairs window, i am fucked - but my hearing is excellent, see? so i just need to spend a few days inside honing my sonar, and i'll be fine then.”

“if you don't like the work, the circus is in town and they're always looking for clowns.”

“his soul is just going to crumble to dust.”

“this really is not a good situation for me. a physical threat is something that i can deal with, but a sexual thing is not my area of expertise.”

“just really fucked in the head, mate.”

“what have i done? i haven't done anything wrong.”

“do you know how sad that is? that is so, actually, sad. that makes me sad for you, that you can't take a joke.”

“i think i just got a bit carried away with the whole thing.”

“your finger's going up my arsehole, mate.”

“i'll hold the back of your head, so you don't bash yourself.”

“when i lie in future, i don't want a massive lecture on how bad lying is, cos deep down, you're the worst of us all, mate.”

“i'd quite like a coke.”

“it's going to be like gluing a breadstick back together, because… like, as if a breadstick's been in a blender and it's all… ...the pieces smashed up.”

“like, this one time i started a fight club in the village hall, and i got a black eye from beating myself up. but it made my enemies think, ‘fuck, if she can do that to herself, what the fuck can she do to me?’”

“i'm absolutely 1,000% sure i've broken it in two places.”

“i knew this day would come.”

“i should be in tk maxx, getting the bargains that i deserve.”

“unlike you, [name], i'm not a fashion disaster.”

“i'm still warm in my grave, and she's sucking off the pallbearer.”

“you know, it took me ten years to get over [name], and i only went out with her for half a day.”

“i swear to god, if i see him here again, i swear to god, i will have no hesitation in just going up to him and just planting one on his face.”

“right, then keep your nose out of my business, yeah? nosy old cock-womble.”

“[name]’s attitude to me is puzzling. if i walk past her in the street

and say hi, she'll tell me to fuck off. yet every year, she sends me a really sweet, nice christmas card. you know, there's just no consistency there.”

“he's good-looking up close, isn't he?”

“don't show me any weakness, because i will take advantage.”

“no, put the brick down, you fucking psychopath.”

“when i asked him, he just said, ‘come to my office now,’ which means we're in the fucking shit, cos we're always in fucking shit.”

“i shouldn't be paying you at all.”

“i've always had a son. i talk about him all the time.”

“he's my son. he's not my dog.”

“it reminds me of the wicker man. i don't really know why.”

“i just find it weird how you can be so close to someone and they can be such a big part of your life, and then the next minute, you're just sort of strangers in the night.”

“i don't want the emotional implications.”

“well, about five years ago, i sold my birthday to my mum for about 200 quid, which means my mum's legally entitled now to never celebrate my birthday ever again for the rest of my life. not even, like, a happy birthday cup of tea, or a moonpig card, nothing - which is the worst decision i ever made in my entire life.”

“he deserves that anyway, because he's been sexting my nan, so…”

“what's this surprise? cos i need to know whether it's going to be worth this walk.”

“i always see them banners above the motorway, and i always thought, ‘who the fuck does them?’ well, now i know. people like me.”

“did you know you can't get stung by a stinging nettle if you grab the leaf top and bottom, like that? it's only when you touch it on the sides, it stings. agh, actually, that stung, then.”

“pez dispenser, they're cursed. they are, i'm not even joking. honestly, when i had one of them, i had the worst bout of bad luck i ever had in my life.”

“i swear down, it's a short cut. it might be a pleasant walk, we might enjoy it.”

“i'm not scared of the fox twins. i'd just like to sit them down and ask 'em plainly, ‘look, guys, what is going on? ‘cos this has just gotten completely out of hand now. you know, stop walking on your knuckles, stand up straight, be the best version of you that you can be. get a job, even. there's a trolley boy who works at tesco's, you know, who may as well have been raised by wolves. if he can get a job, you guys can walk it.’”

“yes, there has been talk of strange goings-on in the woods, ghost sightings and the like. but… ...they're never from particularly reliable sources.”

“i live with a ghost. there's a ghost in that house. he's like a civil war cavalier, with all the hair and the hat and all that. and every time i walk into the living room, he doffs his cap. and on his shoulder, he's got this crow that barks at me. it means i spend less time in the house, really. not because of him, because he's-he's quite peaceable. but the crow is malevolent. and i'm not having that. i can't share my house with a malevolent bird.”

“that's haunted as fuck.”

“am i going mad here, or does that, to you, look like that's where just ghost will hang out all the time?”

“look at him, little red riding twat.”

“if he's got an attitude with me, i swear to god, i'll just grab the steering wheel and drive us all into a wall.”

“it's a bit annoying, actually. cos this is not the first or the second time i've had to tell you, really, is it?”

“his sparkle has just gone.”

“you know my dad actually wrote the song wonderwall on the back of a beer mat in the space of ten minutes, don't you?”

“i've just got a tiny, tiny, tiny little favour to ask you.”

“when i think of [name], i think of someone who is very loyal. and very, very stupid. sort of more stupid than loyal. sort of 70% stupid, 30% loyal, probably. because she's very loyal. but extremely stupid.”

“do you know what? i actually don't think he loves you at all and i don't think he's ever loved you.”

“all right, that's harsh and unnecessary, but fine.”

“frankly, she is behaving like the antichrist.”

“i literally just got here.”

“you are such an unemotional slab of ham, [name].”

“i've got so much shit on that man you would not believe.”

“there's something in my eye.”

“i just can't quit him, you know?”

“yeah, we might have a fiery relationship,  but when we're together, it's just… it's just pure chemistry, isn't it?”

“i'm not proud of it, believe me. but at the end of the day, i'm a very vindictive person, you know? it is what makes me me.”

“i basically went out and bought an alpaca off gumtree for £500. of all the mistakes i've made in my life, that was possibly the largest. definitely the physically largest.”

“yeah, i really don't wanna talk about that.”

“her only loyalty is to herself, staffies, and the tv channel dave… ...which, in my opinion, is a tv channel made by knuckle-draggers for knuckle-draggers.”

“i can't move on till i've seeked revenge, unfortunately.”

“if that was in france, that would be fine, but we're not in france.”

“the only thing we had in common, really, was stealing, and that was more my thing that i got him onto. but it just goes to show, you know, some friendships last and some friendships don't, but that's just the way it is.”

“you know it was me that got you sacked, don't you?”

“the thing i learnt about friendship is, you gotta accept each other's flaws, no matter how toxic they may be.”

“shit-stirring from beyond the grave.”

[spiderlilyserendipity]

omg violet you write so well!! if you can, could you write a taehyung nsfw of while on vacation, tae's girlfriend wakes him up early with kisses and promises to do "whatever he wants" if he gets up with her and explores the city and tae holds her to that promise when they get back to their hotel starting with some steamy (private) hot tub sex?

Anon, you are awesome but you have ruined my brain. I got so carried away writing this fic, it is double the size I thought it would be. Many thoughts, head full typa situation. Thank you. This one is titled Only One. Enjoy <3

WC: 4475

Genres: Smut, fluff, angst

Tags: established relationship, anniversary dinners, tae x oc take a trip to Paris

Warnings: dom/sub relationship, dom!taehyung, sub!reader, sir kink, punishment, praise kink, use of the word slut once, colour system as a safeword, insecurity, possessiveness, possessive sex, aftercare, taehyung is very 🥵🥵🥵 in this one y’all

(*Cis female reader*)

“Y/N, Y/N, should we take a picture over there?” Taehyung asks, batting his eyes cutely.

You smile but roll your eyes at Taehyung’s enthusiasm.

Not to be mistaken, if there’s anyone who loves their boyfriend, it’s you. You would live and die for Kim Taehyung, but there’s a special reason for your eyeroll today.

It has been only two weeks since Taehyung got off tour, and at that a world tour. You know Taehyung must be very tired from constantly travelling, hence why you let your boyfriend get his full rest the first week. But the thing is you haven’t seen your lover in a year, and you want to make some memories with him. 

You know he will get too busy once the post-tour lull passes over everyone at the company and everything goes back to regular schedule. Then, Taehyung will get sucked away by album preparations, promotions once it’s out, and inevitably: another tour.

You love that Taehyung gets to do what he loves for a living. You also love how cool he looks on stage. But most of all you like getting to spend time with him. 

To be honest, you were going to go see Taehyung in Paris during the European leg of the tour. It had been your anniversary, and the two of you had plans to get dinner together and enjoy the city. But then life happened and your plans came crashing down, preventing you from seeing Taehyung until the tour ended months later.

But past you had thought quickly, knowing the day Taehyung would return home and shifted your ticket instead of cancelling. So a week after Taehyung got home, you presented him with a second plane ticket to Paris, France that you bought last minute just for him.

You thought Taehyung would agree with making up for your missed anniversary, but Taehyung had frowned instead. “Babe, I seriously don’t want to go anywhere for a while. I’m sick of hotels and planes.”

“But I’ve never been there, baby. It would be so romantic!” You convinced him eventually, your pout winning him over. Taehyung had sighed, then called his manager to let him know.

So excited from Taehyung agreeing, you had leapt up into his arms and kissed him like crazy. “Ahhh! I’m so excited!”

Taehyung had held back a grin. “Okay. But no touristy stuff.”

You pout. “But that’s the most fun part!” When Taehyung pouts back, you try to convince him again. “Baby, I promise I’ll seriously do anything you say if you do all the embarrassing touristy stuff with me.”

“Anything?” Taehyung asked you, arching a brow. 

You took his hand, nodding eagerly. “Anything. Let’s just have fun!”

Taehyung grinned at you. “You better keep your word.”

You had kissed him, grinning at him. He watched you with a fond smile, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “You bet I will.” You vow.

It isn’t until you actually land in Paris that you realize what anything Taehyung is imagining.

For all his great qualities, Taehyung is not subtle about what he wants. Especially when he wants you.

The first three days, Taehyung lets you drag him around under the condition that you both wear disguises to avoid being noticed. You comply, picking odd hours of the day for activities that would be very busy at other times of day. You hit all the touristy spots in early mornings before the crowd, hide away in small tucked away cafes and restaurants with Taehyung during lunch hour, then spend the day browsing vintage stores for jewellery and clothes. 

It’s all fun and games except for the teasing that Taehyung will not stop. It’s hard for you to name a time of day where Taehyung’s big hands hadn’t been resting on your waist or his lips idly pressing a kiss to your cheek in passing. You know very well the game Taehyung is playing. He is slowly working you up, getting you used to his constant touches. Then, he will withdraw them, leaving you needy. 

Despite Taehyung’s teasing, the two of you still have a great time. You buy souvenirs for your friends and things for yourself. Taehyung also buys you clothes and jewellery, loving to spoil you. But what you love the most are the small establishments he brings you to, full of tasty food and where no one knows his name. You know the game Taehyung is playing, but you let him guide you to an isolated table towards the back and feed you food off his own utensils. You let him wipe the corner of your mouth for some smeared sauce, let him lick it off his thumb. Sometimes, you even get a little on your face on purpose. Taehyung notices when you do that, and lets you get away with it. After all, this isn’t a favour he’s doing you. This is your anniversary trip. He can’t be the only one getting away with teasing.

The following three days, the two of you hit the museums. Taehyung shows you around, explaining things he had seen on previous trips to Paris. You listen to him, happier to see him happy than to really look at the art. You take pictures of your boyfriend inside the museum and really anywhere it won’t catch too much attention.

Over those three days, Taehyung’s touches decrease. He reduces it little by little, but you know him well by now. Taehyung isn’t trying to be subtle, rather the opposite. He wants you to notice, to get riled up when his touch is gone. 

You tell yourself you don’t mind it, but both of you know it’s a lie. You ignore the smirk on Taehyung’s face every time you intertwine your hands or wrap an arm around his waist to guide him through the back roads. You will get back at him at dinner tonight.

After lunch on the final day, you tell Taehyung to head back to the hotel on his own. You say you are going to buy a new dress for your dinner date tonight, and that you want it to be a surprise for him. Chuckling, Taehyung just passes you his blackcard and tells you to have fun.

You buy a dark green coloured gown, Taehyung’s favourite colour, and a matching necklace and earrings set of emeralds. You smile at the sight of your ass being cupped by the silky material. This is sure to drive Taehyung mad. After all, tonight is the final night. Both of you know exactly how tonight will end.

You catch a cab to the five star Taehyung made a reservation at. You pay the taxi driver excitedly, getting out in your all new outfit, new heels, and even a new purse! You were sure to impress Taehyung.

You walk into the restaurant, telling the waiter who you’re here with. He lets you in, guiding you upstairs to your table.

You frown as you see your table. From this angle, you can’t see who, but Taehyung is talking to a woman. You approach quietly, catching neither of their attention. Luckily (or unluckily) for you, they’re talking loudly. You don’t speak much French but you don’t need it to deal with this woman. You hear her mention the word “model” and a woman’s clothing brand. You hear her repeat “model” a second time as she blatantly roams her eyes down Taehyung’s figure, then up at him. That’s the part that makes your blood boil. You know she is aware of your presence. It doesn’t take a genius to figure out what kind of relationship you and Taehyung have.

But she still challenges you anyway, openly eyeing your man in public. If you could speak more French than basic small talk you would rip her a new one. 

Fuck it. You think, making your way across the room. Who needs to know the language?

“Oh, baby.” You say in a sweet voice. They both look over at you. The woman looks visibly irritated, pursing her perfect lips in annoyance. What a shame you like to flirt with other women’s men. You think, slightly in awe at her beauty. I’d like you in any other situation. “Is this a friend?” You ask.

You see a hint of a smile before Taehyung bites it back. “No, Y/N. We just met tonight.”

You smile pointedly at the woman. She frowns at you. “Ah, I see. Well, it was nice meeting you. We haven’t had dinner yet, so.” You say, pretending to be apologetic for cutting the conversation short. All three of you know you’re not, but it’s the thought that counts. Or doesn’t. You couldn’t care less.

“Colour.” Taehyung asks the minute you’re back in the hotel room. 

“Green.” 

“Poor baby. Got so angry that I took my eyes off you, huh?” Taehyung teases, hooking his fingers in the band of your underwear. He pulls back, making it snap against your hips. You whimper. “What’s that? Are you trying to say something?” Taehyung taunts you.

He cranes his head to look at you. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He makes a fake-worried face. “That’s odd, you were talking perfectly fine a few hours ago. Was it something in the food that’s making you feel sick or are you just embarrassed from being a possessive little slut in front of sir?”

His words make you shiver. He grins as he feels it against his own abdomen. “It seems like you’re really sick, Y/N. I guess we'll just have to go to bed.”

He begins to unwind his arms from around your waist, but you grab them, holding them against your skin. ��S-Sir.” You whisper.

“There’s my girl.” Taehyung says proudly, rewarding you with a kiss to your temple. “Let’s talk about what you did wrong tonight, shall we?”

“I-I was possessive. I got jealous because you were talking to that model.”

Taehyung’s eyes flicker at the last word. “Oh, you heard?” He snaps the band of underwear against your skin again. You wriggle, but he refuses to let you go. “What a bad girl. Eavesdropping on sir’s conversations. What if she had been a potential colleague and you ruined everything? But you didn’t think of any of that, only your. own. feelings.” He emphasizes each of the three words with another smack. “You’re just an ungrateful little slut, aren’t you? I bet you would open your legs for any man that offered you this kind of treatment, huh?” He growls in your ear.

“I-I’m sorry.” You whisper, voice cracking.

Taehyung stops. “Colour.” He says, thumbs gently stroking at your sides.

“Green.” 

“Y/N.” He repeats more firmly. You sniffle. A tear rolls down your cheek. Taehyung thumbs it away immediately. “We don’t have to. I’m sorry. Do you want to take a bath together? We can cuddle after. Anything you’re comfortable with baby.”

You shake your head, looking away from him. “I’m really okay. I...I want my punishment.”

Taehyung turns you to look at him. He watches your face, looking for any unwillingness. He cups your face and makes you look at him. He smiles finally when he sees the familiar, hazy look in your eyes. You are already slipping into subspace.

“Follow me.” Taehyung says.

You walk behind him, still naked except for your panties. Taehyung is still entirely clothed in his suit and tie. He leads you to the fancy living room of the suite, and closes the curtains. You wait until he sits down to approach him. You observe his spread legs and the stern look in his eye. The air in the living room is freezing cold, but it only adds to it. This is one of the many things you love about Taehyung. How incredibly sexy he looks when he is in control.

Without being asked, you get on the sofa on your hands and knees. You drape your body over Taehyung’s lap, ass up in his lap. You fold your arms over the sofa’s armrest, turning your head to look at Taehyung. 

Taehyung’s warm hand caresses your ass. He kneads at the flesh roughly without breaking eye contact with you. On the outside, he looks indifferent, dark eyes sultry. He makes it look like he couldn't care less if it was you or another sub being bent to his will. But you know it’s part of the scene, that he’s watching you this intensely for your reaction and it is only your reaction he ever wants in a setting like this.

“You can safeword out if you need to.” He reminds you. You nod, putting your head against the armrest. “Count.” He tells you, before the first smack comes down.

You flinch on instinct, but his arm pins the backs of your thighs down. “One.”

Another smack but to the other cheek. You hiss under your breath. “Two.”

Taehyung gives the next three in succession. “F-Five.”

“Colour?” Taehyung re-checks. You reply green again. He delivers two more. “Six, ah, seven.”

The next two smacks are harsher. “Eight, nine一!” As you’re counting, Taehyung gives the final one. This one is the hardest of all, making the two of you sink a little lower into the sofa. “T-Ten.”

You are crying now, falling deeper into your subspace. Taehyung’s warm hands smooth over the places they hit. His voice murmurs sweet nothings in your ear, reassuring you.

“S-Sorry.” You continue to cry. “I didn’t mean to be like that.”

“I know.” Taehyung reassures you. He helps you up into a sitting position. It burns to sit on your still painful ass, but you do so anyway because it’s Taehyung who asks you to do it. “You took my punishment very well, Y/N, just like a good girl.”

You shake your head, sniffling. “I don’t wanna be ‘a good girl’, I wanna be your good girl.” You say. Taehyung frowns slightly as he wonders what that means, then looks shocked when he realizes what you’re saying.

“You are my good girl, baby.” He says softly, wiping away your tears. “No one but you.”

“But i-it was our a-anniversary dinner and you were letting her flirt with you. You just一just let her do it. And when I called you baby at the restaurant, you only called me Y/N.” You confess, giving up your fake confident act. The truth is that despite your anger in the moment, you had felt very insecure. It wasn’t like you could blame the woman for finding your boyfriend hot, anyone would. But the fact that Taehyung never said anything back and just put up with it instead of correcting her bothered you. Was it embarrassing to admit he was dating you in front of a woman who was so obviously his equal in elegance? This thought bothered you throughout the whole dinner. 

You didn’t plan on telling Taehyung about it, since he didn’t know you sometimes felt this way. One of the reasons you insisted on travelling to make up for your missed anniversary was this doubt. Maybe if you showed him around this fancy city and you made good memories with him, he might appreciate it. Maybe then it would ease your doubt of if you were worthy enough to be his.

You had never admitted this aloud to anyone, but you actually wondered If Taehyung had women in other countries that he went on dates with during tour. You know Taehyung is a good person but after all, he is a young man with sexual needs. And at that, a very attractive man who could get with just about any woman he wanted. So yes, seeing him talk to the very attractive woman had angered you, but it also made you feel like your worst fears might be true. 

“Y/N, talk to me, baby.” Taehyung pleads you, his worried brown eyes searching your face for any answers.

“...Can I ask you a question?” 

“Of course, my love.” Taehyung responds. “Ask me anything you want, baby.’

You sniffle. You play with his suit blazer. “Can you promise to not get mad at me?”

Taehyung looks like he might cry when you ask that. “I promise.”

“When you go away for tour...is there anyone else?” You watch your own tears fall onto Taehyung’s dress shirt. Taehyung looks shaken. “It might seem random but I’ve always wondered. I promise I’m not just acting up because of tonight.”

Taehyung continues to watch you, looking worried and at a loss for words. You put on a fake smile. “Sorry, it’s probably nothing. Let’s just go to bed.” 

Taehyung holds you by the waist, stopping you from getting up. “Y/N.”

“I said it’s fine. It’s okay. Really, even if you had another woman. I can’t control what you do when you’re not with me. A year is too long for a couple to spend apart anyway, it’s only natural that your feelings would change. It’s okay. Anyway,” You breathe shakily. “Anyway I’m still yours. As long as you like, of course.”

“Of course I like it.” Taehyung insists, tears glistening in his eyes. “I love you. Tell me how long you’ve felt like this.”

You hesitate. “Y/N.” There it is again, that firm tone that you hate outside of scenes. 

You look down at your hands. “Maybe two years?”

Taehyung is crying now, and he cups your face in his hands. “You’ve been thinking like this for two years? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“...I didn’t want to burden you. You’re really busy on tour.”

Taehyung purses his lips. “Can I show you there’s no one else?”

You nod. Taehyung lifts you up, and you wrap your legs around his waist. He holds you by the backs of your thighs instead of your ass, careful not to hurt you. “The bed?” He asks. You consider the feeling of the rough sheets against your sore ass. 

You shake your head. “C-Can we use the hot tub?”

Taehyung kisses your forehead. “Anything for you.”

Taehyung sets up the hot tub for both of you. He takes your panties off for you, sliding them down your legs. He kisses you deeply, sweetly. You whimper into the kiss, his tongue completely in control of your mouth. When you part, a strand of saliva comes loose. When you part far enough, the saliva ends up on your chin. Taehyung wipes it with his thumb. A darkness has entered his eyes again. “Get in. Let me show you how much I love you.”

You get in the hot tub, relishing the feeling of the hot water. It stings a bit, but it’s easier to sit then the bed would have been. You sit with your legs spread slightly, calves tucked under you and feet beneath your ass. Neat and pretty. Just the way sir likes it.

Taehyung strips quickly once you’re in the water. Your eyes roam over his beautiful body, at the hard muscle of his chest, his bulging biceps, his caramel thighs, and his rigid cock. “Come here.” Taehyung orders as he gets in the water. You do so, climbing up into his lap. He kisses you hungrily, like this is the first time all night. You are surprised at the intensity of this kiss. You cannot recall a time Taehyung has ever kissed you so passionately in your years together, even in your roughest scenes. 

“So pretty.” Taehyung growls when you two part again. He wraps one arm around your waist to press your chest against his, then attacks your neck. You gasp as he makes love bites, all the way down your neck. He has never made this many before in total, yet he makes them everywhere tonight. He litters your collarbone and the top of your chest with them, making them bloom red at first but you know they will be a deep purple shade tomorrow. “How can you not know what you mean to me, when you’re this fucking beautiful? You drove me crazy in your dress tonight, no, you drive me crazy every fucking time I see you. Maybe even since the first time I met you.”

“S-Sir.” You moan at the praise, face heating up. Taehyung pushes you back against the wall of the hot tub. You tilt your head back against the tiles as he touches you everywhere. He uses his hands to tease at your nipples, making them harden. Even as he does it, he is grinding down on you. You can feel yourself getting wetter by the second. 

“You fucking know I am.” Taehyung snaps, losing the careful composure he wears during scenes. “You’re my one and my only. Look at yourself, so fucking lewd, all worked up by my touch. You have me wrapped around your finger and you still think I’d have another woman.” He continues, cursing in between his sentences at your sweet sounds.

“S-Sorry.”

“Don’t ever be sorry.” Taehyung cuts you off. You let out moans as he starts rubbing at your clit, hard and fast. You grind against his hand. In his dom persona, Taehyung would never tolerate you doing this, but both of you are too far gone tonight to follow the rules to a T. “I will clear this misunderstanding tonight. On your knees, princess.” 

You lean on top of the towel Taehyung placed for you on the tiles. Taehyung places his own knees outside of yours, and you feel his hard cock against your ass. Taehyung eases two fingers into you, wet from your arousal that it’s an easy fit. “Nnn, sir.” You plead, grinding down on him. 

“You won’t get more until you say what I want to hear.” Taehyung says next to your ear. He presses his chest into your back, pinning you to the edge of the hot tub. “Who do you belong to?”

“Sir! I belong to sir!” You cry out, and Taehyung picks up the pace.

“So fucking pretty.” Taehyung praises, kissing the marks he left on your neck. “Only you get treated like this, understand? No woman could ever be loved like this by me. Every time you forget I will bend you over my lap and make you come on my cock over and over until you get it in your head.”

You let out a particularly loud moan at that, making Taehyung smirk. “Does my princess like that, hmm? You want to get bent over and take my cock all the time? Want me to fill you up with my come, plug you with a pretty little toy, and make you go about your day?” Taehyung inserts another finger and the stretch has you whining. “Answer me.” He demands.

“I do. Ah, fuck, Taehyung. Please. I do.” You plead, tilting your head to the side. Taehyung meets you immediately in a passionate kiss. It’s all tongue and teeth, completely different from Taehyung’s usual style. Is this really what he can do when he lets go? You wonder, getting drunk on his kisses alone. You thought Taehyung had been rough before, but it’s nothing compared to tonight.

“Turn around.” Taehyung says, withdrawing his fingers. 

He takes in your needy expression, leaning in to kiss you again like he can’t get enough of you. “Can I come in you, baby? Have you been taking your pill regularly?” 

“Yes. Yes.” You chant. Taehyung laughs breathlessly, grabbing a fistful of your hip in one hand and lining himself up to your entrance.

When he enters, both of you moan. “So good. Whose are you, princess?”

“Yours, only yours.” You answer breathlessly. Taehyung grips your thighs and lifts you slightly, allowing him to enter you more deeply. 

Taehyung abruptly picks up the pace of his thrusts. You grip at his shoulders for support, unable to stop the noises that fall from your lips constantly. Not only is Taehyung going fast, he is also going incredibly deep, rubbing right over your G-spot. 

“C-Can I come, sir?” You beg.

Taehyung nods, and you move one hand between your legs to rub at your clit. As you tip your head back, Taehyung holds himself deep inside you. Both of you come at the same time, you clench hard around him and Taehyung pumps his seed inside you. He kisses at the marks on your neck as he comes, and you dig your nails into his back. 

You move your hand to his hair once you finish, stroking it gently. Taehyung pulls back from the wall, his hand smoothing down your back to ease any discomfort you felt being pressed against it. You don’t even notice until the postcoital bliss dies down that your ass was now more sore than before. But Taehyung does. 

“Let’s take a shower.” He tells you, helping you up. You both get out of the hot tub. Taehyung runs a small handcloth under the tap. He comes over and wipes your vagina down first, then cleaning himself. 

The two of you get in the shower together. You let Taehyung wash your body down, scrubbing gently and avoiding touching your ass. You grab his shampoo off the ledge and put a good amount in your palms. “What are you doing?” Taehyung asks, surprised that you turned around while he was washing your back.

“Taking care of you.” You mumble, washing Taehyung hair for him. You grab the detachable showerhead from the side. You shield his eyes with a hand as you rinse the soap out.

Taehyung smiles fondly at how concentrated you look. “Baby, a dom is supposed to look after their sub following a scene. Not the other way.”

You shrug. You probably heard that somewhere. Your brain is too foggy right now to think. “But I want to.”

“Oh yeah?” 

“Yes.” You answer, smiling at how nice Taehyung’s hair looks now that it’s clean. “Because I belong to you.”

Taehyung lightly pecks your forehead. “And I’m yours.”

Later, when the haze of your subspace wears off, you two are laying in bed together. You’re wearing one of Taehyung’s shirts and a pair of panties. Taehyung is shirtless and in a pair of boxers. Taehyung has just finished putting lotion on your sore bottom to ease the ache for tomorrow. 

You lay on top of Taehyung’s chest, and Taehyung tucks the blankets tucked in around you. You snuggle up against his chest, content in his strong arms.

“Y/N, I know I already proved my point, but you really are my only one.” Taehyung tells you. You don’t reply so he cranes his head to look at you. Taehyung smiles fondly to notice you’re already asleep. He kisses the top of your head. “No problem. I guess I have the rest of my life to prove it to you.” He mutters to himself.

You smile to yourself with your eyes closed.

Requests are open (✿◡‿◡)

[kayleezra]

How Did You Get Here? // (Frankie Morales x Reader)

Warnings; none

Word Count; 1534

Summary; You’re a university student working at a bar when a particular patron catches your attention.

You were working your normal shift as a bartender from 6 pm to 2 am. It was always quiet during the first 4 hours. 10 pm was when the crowd really picked up. So, during your spare time, you’d chat with co-workers and catch up on your textbook readings. You’re a university student and found that bartending to be the best way to earn money while also attending lectures. This place was by far our favourite. Other bars let the customers do whatever they wanted but, here the owner encourages you to put unruly customers in their place. Even the security was quick to pick out those that were about to cause a scene.

You were reading through your textbook, highlighting key points, when a group of 5 men walked in. One, in particular, caught your attention, he had longer stuffy hair hidden under a baseball cap and a moustache with matching stubble littered across his face. You quickly tucked away your book and walked over to where they sat.

“What can I get for you gentlemen?”, you ask scanning across every one of them.

A tan man with black hair sprinkled with grey and a matching 4 o'clock shadow ordered for the group.

“Shall I open a tab for you?”

“Yes, for Santiago por favor.”

Now, you weren’t fluent in Spanish but you knew the basics.

“No hay problema.”

You can’t help but notice this ‘Santiago’ and his friend gave you a slight look of shock. You went and grabbed their drinks and returned with a smirk across your face.

“I have to be honest with you guys.”

They all look at you, their attention now 100% on you.

“Yo no hablo Español pero, yo hablo Frencés.”

The man who caught your attention gives you a smirk, and before any of them get a chance to say anything you introduce yourself.

“I’m Y/N.”

The man furthest to your left is the first to speak.

“Will.”, he says while extending a hand to you which you kindly take. Introductions proceed to the right.

“Ben.”

“Tom.”

“Santiago.”

“Francisco.”

Bingo! It was Francisco. You didn’t notice that he held your hand longer than the others or that he gave you his first name and not his nickname but, Santiago sure did. Santiago was trying to get a rise out of Fish.

“Francisco huh? I thought you hated your name. You know, that’s why we all call you Catfish. Maybe it’s French accent she can use to say your name that’s got you intrigued.”

Francisco laughed him off and you and the other joined in. Because they were there before the rush you were sure to take good care of them. You told yourself you were just trying to get some good tips and not because you wanted to be close to Francisco. It was nearing 10 pm and the crowd was picking up, only Santiago and Francisco remained. It had been a while since you last checked on them but, their drinks had barely been touched and they were deep in conversation. You wanted to know what they were talking about but, you had customers to attend to. It was after midnight when Santiago flagged you down.

“I was starting to think you boys forgot about me.”

“Nah, couldn’t forget a beautiful lady like yourself. Santiago here just wouldn’t shut up.”, Francisco says and the two of you share a chuckle.

“What can I do for you two?”

“Unfortunately, this party is over.”, Santiago says with a lighthearted huff. The two of them get up from their stools.

“Okay, I’ll ring you up over there.”, you say while pointing to the nearest debit machine to your left.

You close their tabs and they pay, “Come by again, okay?”

“Don’t worry. We will.”, Santiago says with a smirk and while nudging Francisco.

You went back to their spot to clean up and found a neatly folded napkin. When you picked it up you realized it was heavier than it should have been. You opened it and found a tip but, it wasn’t the tip that grabbed your attention. Inside the napkin, there was a message that read, 'Maybe put this towards your textbooks. See you later, Sweetheart. -Francisco’. You couldn’t help but smile at the door they hand just walked out of.

The boys returned regularly. They had their own spots and came to catch up with each other. The came often enough that you knew when they came and left and even what their regular drinks. Santiago and Francisco came by more frequently than the others. You’d grown close to the group and even joined them from time to time when you weren’t working. Your affection only grew for Francisco. He started to plague your mind 24/7.

—-Present Day—-

You zoned out during your lecture. NO, it wasn’t the first time it had happened but, it was the first time that someone had caught you. Someone had been asking to borrow a pen and you hadn’t even noticed they were there until they tapped your shoulder. You jumped in surprise and apologized profusely as though they’ve caught you doing something you shouldn’t have been. This was an entirely new experience for you, your entire life you’d been focused on your education and career path. You’d never had a serious relationship because you were never looking and were preoccupied. Now, you were having a hard time focusing on anything else. The next time you see Francisco you’re going to admit your feelings, at least that’s what you told yourself. Just in spite of you, Santiago and Francisco showed up that night. Suddenly, you weren’t sure you could do it. What if he didn’t feel the same? What if all these months of back and forth flirting was all just for fun? Your entire shift you felt like you were going to vomit and you’d even eavesdrop on them. You clung to every word Francisco said like it’d be his last.

At one point during the night, Francisco left for the washroom. Santiago watched him carefully and as soon as he disappeared, he called to you. You rush over thinking something was wrong but before you can get a word out Santiago spoke.

“You like Fish right?”

Your heart fell to your stomach and you struggle to get the words out. You knew exactly what he meant but, you weren’t sure you were ready to admit it aloud.

“W-what do y-you mean?”

“C'mon. Since day one you’ve had eyes for him. You like him, enamoured with him.”

“That obvious?”

“Yes but, he feels the same so we’re staying till closing and the two of you are facing your feelings for each other.”

“Wait. I don’t know tha-”

“Yes, you can and you will. Now, scatter, he’s coming.”

You mindlessly do as your told. The shock of his words hit you hard. He feels the same? How did Santiago know about your feelings? The rest of your shift passed like a blur and you weren’t even sure when security started kicking the stranglers out. When a security guard approached Santiago and Francisco you snapped out of your trance and the weight of the world returned.

“They’re with me.”

“Alright well, they’re the only two left. I can trust you to lock up?”

“Yup, thanks again”

“No problem”

You and Francisco lock eyes, you blush as if he could see all your thoughts.

“I’ll give you two a minute. Remember what I told you, Fish.”, Santiago says while patting him on the back and making his way out. He’s at the door when he yells.

“You too Y/N.”

Then he leaves. Just you and Francisco remain.

You’d never been more nervous in your life but, you still walked around the bar and sat next to him.

“So… Santiago talked to you.”, Francisco states.

“Yeah, and you?”

He lets out a light chuckle, “Yeah. He’s always-”

You cut him off, “I like you. Like a lot. You somehow weaved your way into my heart and head. I can’t think straight and always want to be closer to you. It’s crazy because no one has ever had this effect on me, ever. I’ve barely dated but, when I look at you I just want-”

You only stop your hasty confession when his lips reach yours. You immediately kiss back, wrapping your arms around his neck while he holds your face tenderly. When you pull away, neither of you let go of each other and you reach your foreheads on one another.

“Me too.”, he says out of breath.

“Really?”

He nods before pulling you in for another kiss. You don’t think you would have pulled away if it weren’t for Santiago. He must have snuck back in because he’s at the door clapping. The moment the two of you pull away in shock he opens his mouth.

“I told you two! Looks likes you both owe me.”

You roll your eyes and giggle with Francisco.

“I may not be fluent in Spanish but, the amo Francisco.”

“Mmm. I love how you say it. You should probably say it more often because te amo mucho Y/N.”

[jostepherjoestar]

SDC gives you headpats (HC’s)

sfw // no pronouns/neutral pronouns

Everyone deserves headpats ok! If you haven’t gotten one yet NO WORRIES here you go!! (Jotaro and Kakyoin are platonic since they’re underage in part 3)

Avdol

Oh Avdol knows how good headpats feel but also respects others’ personal space.

He didn’t plan on doing it to you, it just felt like the right thing to do at the moment. You are shorter than all your crew mates which they always take advantage of. Your head is basically their arm rest. 

After a particularly hard day of fighting enemy stands he notices you practically dragging your feet across the sand road on the way to camp. After everyone has set up and the campfire is roaring, everyone has taken a seat around it to relax and eat. You sit and stare at the fire, poking it with a stick you found. Avdol crouches before you. He’s still taller than you while seated.

A big warm hand lands on your head and the other hands you a cup of soup he just heated on the fire. “You did good today, take a rest ok? Joseph and I will stand guard tonight.” he smiles softly at you. His hand exudes heat even without Magicians Red. 

You gladly accept the cup while brandishing a tired smile. The soup and the pat making you feel warm all over. You wish more from him but silence those thoughts, you should keep thinking about defeating DIO. 

Oldseph

Joseph has always been physical with you. Touching your lower back as you pass by, leaning on your shoulder with his elbow and sometimes getting a little too close while talking to you. You push those symptoms to him being old and not knowing personal space is a thing.

He headpats you frequently but more to tease you when you don’t know something or forget. More of a “oh you poor child”. You always roll your eyes at his for doing it but end up laughing anyways. 

You call him old man, he calls you kid. The teasing nature between the two of you only growing as the journey continues. 

So when you burn your tongue on the hot soup Avdol gave you earlier he comes by to patronisingly pat you on the head. “Oh did you burn your wittle tongue?” he jabs while patting you on the head. You stomp on his toes in reply making him yelp in pain. You can hear the rest of the group snicker in the background while you smugly grin and blow on your soup. 

Polnareff 

Polnareff is a bit of a mix when it comes to being physical with you. He respects your personal space but every so often when the chance arrives to aid you AND be able to touch you, he jumps at the opportunity. 

A hand around your waist to whisk you away to safety? Grabbing your wrist to stop you from bumping into someone? Caging your body with his to protect you from rubble in a fight? Don’t mind if he does. 

So when he sees you tiredly wobbling to your sleeping bag he comes in to assist you, letting you hook your arm through his while resting your head on his shoulder. “Thanks Pol.” you yawn. 

He basically tucks you in your sleeping bag. Whispering “Bonne nuit, doux rêves.” as he pats you on the head. He would have preferred to hug you instead but he sees how tired you are and settles. 

“Merci Pol Pol.” you reply in your best french accent, you can hear him laugh as he walks back to the camp fire.

Jotaro 

He does not really care that much for headpats, let alone unnecessarily touching others. Why would you even get in someone’s space for no reason? He’d indicate it a way to start a fight with him. 

You’d left him alone for most of the trip, not getting in his way, listening to what he has to say and not being too loud around him. Somehow you still wanted to please this frickin kid. 

You were rudely awakened by Jotaro nudging your leg with his foot. “Get up, there might be a stand user near us.” he said, his eyebrows were knitted in a frown. 

You get up quickly to scan the area for enemies, the rest of your crew already awake and focused. Jotaro gestures his fingers at you to come over and you do. “A little to the left. Ok...good.” you do as he says standing in front of him facing the desert around you. 

Out of nowhere you feel heavy elbows rest on your shoulders and a figure behind you. Full of questions you utter a “What the fuck?”. “My arms were tired from holding up the binoculars.” he exclaims in a calm tone while continuing to scan the area. So you stand there, a glorified arm rest. No headpats from him sadly. 

Kakyoin

After figuring out it wasn’t a stand user around your camp but just a very persistent prey bird looking for its next meal you had all packed up and started moving again. 

Joseph had rented a new car in the nearest town available and you were all off again crammed into it. You’re sat squished against the window with Kakyoin next to you in the middle. Still tired from the day before you decide to take a nap since it was going to be a long drive. 

But alas Kakyoin had grown bored of just staring out the window so he decided to bother you after letting you sleep for an hour. The two of you weren’t above pranks, small ones to lighten the mood. Ever since you joined he had found his prank partner in you. The both of you had once put peppers in Polnareff’s food without him noticing, crying from laughter as Polnareff kept trying to order more milk but the waiter couldn’t understand what he was saying. His face was bright red and his tongue swollen. 

So Kakyoin decides you’ve had enough rest and starts patting the top of your head every couple seconds until you’re awake. He feigns ignorance and keeps a straight face while looking out in front of him, even starting a conversation with Polnareff who’s driving. That little shit. 

[juminly]

Invisible String (Napoleon Bonaparte x Reader)

Prompt #4  and #77 by @missmorosis: “Marry me. Now.” and “I can’t say her name without smiling!”

Tags: Fluff + Mutual Pining. PS: Everything in Italic is spoken in French. –♥–

As the song “Sacré Charlemagne” rang loudly in the air, you were whisked into a jolly circle with the children in the little school that Napoleon and Isaac created by the fountain, which you always seemed to forget the name. You absolutely hated using the term “poor children” as everyone referred to them so you made an effort to learn and memorize each one of their names, even if it earned you a few devilish snickers when you stuttered over a few of their names, fumbling through your misconstructed sentences.

Compared to the children, your grammar and vocabulary was absolutely atrocious and it seemed like the infamous Monsieur de Wahaha found way too much pleasure in it, you could see him biting his bottom lip, muffling his chuckle yet his shoulders gave him away before the rambunctious sound escaped him, racking through his entire body. The few swats that Napoleon had to suffer from you did not deter him from losing himself into a fit of laughter. Your expressions never failed to amuse him, his heart feeling lighter than it had ever been in his chest and the adorable pout on your lips that tempted a little too much.

Just to press his lips against yours, Napoleon would always think. Only for a moment, that’s all he wished for. To simply hold you in his arms, engulf you in his warm embrace, where you would be safe and… loved. Feel your soft plush lips and watch as your face turns to a bright shade of red that roses would envy. His thoughts always found a way to drift to you. The petite nunuche with a kind heart, a bright mind and sass that could rival Mozart’s snark.

While you attempted to decipher the words that you were singing, your botched pronunciation did not help much though, the children jumping around, pulling you forcefully into the merry atmosphere that you had absolutely no qualms to join. Fingers that were even smaller than yours wrapped tightly around your palms, squeezed them as tightly as you felt your heart clench in your chest. Even when you were so far from the place you truly called home, with Napoleon, with these children, you found another meaning to the word. How was it that even when you were in the middle of dancing and having fun, your mind was still flooded with thoughts of him? Finding absolutely any hook just to keep him in your mind, clinging to you with no chance for you to escape from them. Even if you wanted to. Was it because he was near? Was it because you felt his eyes on you? Without even looking, you could feel the intensity of his piercing gaze, thoughtful yet kind, that made your body go through a plentiful of sensations that were too many to count on your fingers. Napoleon didn’t realize that he had paused his lesson, his eyes trained on you, seeing you radiate happiness, the happiness that the little ones shared with you even when they lived in some of the most dire of circumstances. If there is anything that you have learned, it was that the smallest things that made a difference. It is the little things that truly mattered. That is a truth that the former Emperor himself has come to realize after being relieved from the responsibility of leading his country and has tasked himself in aiding those that would be the future of France. “Who taught you that song, Clement?” Napoleon called out to one of the boys that were in your circle, shaking his head incredulously and still laughing for a reason that you had still yet to uncover. You weren’t sure what Napoleon was necessarily asking but it was definitely about the song. That was the only word ‘chanson’ that you recognized in his sentence.

“All of you. Come here and form a circle. I think it’s about time that you all learn about what Charlemagne has truly done and why you should be grateful.” Chuckling to himself, he stood from the spot he was sitting in and walked towards you, leaning down so that you were both eye to eye. You didn’t know why every time he did that, it made your heart flutter, doing a bunch of those weird somersaults that kinda made you want to puke.. But not really, at the same time. Being around Napoleon made you feel a flurry of strange sensations. Thinking about him too. That was a fact. “You do realize that this song depicts how much children hold contempt for Charlemagne for inventing school? Whatever you were singing with them right now beats the whole purpose of what we are trying to do for them.” With an eyebrow cocked, Napoleon folded his arms in front of his chest, waiting for a response from you yet the corner of his lips were clearly strained as he fought back a wide smile. “Wait…” You blinked at him in surprise, clearly unaware of the situation that you were put into due to the language barrier. “I… I promise I had no idea! That was definitely and totally not my intention! Oh my God…” It was a funny situation and you found yourself stuck between a state of slight panic and laughter, both emotions reflecting clearly on your visage. The last thing that you wanted was for Napoleon to be disappointed in you. You held him in such high regards, and he did so to you when it came to you, so you didn’t want to do anything to ruin that. A small laugh escaped him, his large hand reaching to ruffle your hair gently before tucking the stray strands away from your face and behind your ear. A gesture that was so simple yet that was done with so much love. Love that you were completely blind to. “This is why you’re my petite nunuche. Come sit and I’ll explain it all to you, princess.” The sly grin he gave you, one that was more like a wide smile, was much too irresistible, your own smile tracing across your blushing face. As he turned away from you and found his seat before everyone, you noticed something. You knew that look in his eyes. It was one that you knew very well, the passion brimming in them, the heart he put into teaching these childrens and sharing with them everything that he had to give. Nothing was ever too much to ask for with Napoleon. God… you couldn’t stop staring at him and you still hadn’t realized why, assuming it was just because he was a born charismatic leader who was now capturing everyone’s attention as he began a history lesson about the medieval emperor Charlemagne and all he had done for France and for the world. Whenever any discussion happened between you, he always leaned down and looked straight into your eyes, especially since you were quite shorter than him. Even when you stood next to one another, he still did the same. Not only with you but with the kids as well, crouching down so that he was on the same level as them, never making anyone feel as though they were inferior. Never looking down on anyone. He spoke to all, treated all, as his equals. No matter who they were. Your daydreams and musings aside, you tried to focus on Isaac’s voice as he spoke in your ear, recounting to you in English all of the stories that Napoleon was painting before all of your eyes. His mind being a wealth of historical knowledge, he ensnared you with his storytelling, even when you had absolutely no idea what he was saying, needing the help of your dear friend, Isaac Newton, to explain it all to you.

“I have a question, Napoleone!” One of the kids, Patrick, raised his hand excitedly and was basically hopping on his cute little butt, curiosity seemingly eating at the young boy. When Leon gave him a curt nod, Patrick giggled and asked. “Why do you call big sister, nunuche?” “Well, there’s a very simple answer to that question. I call her nunuche because she has absolutely no clue that she has stolen my heart.” He declared with a warm smile, his deep voice reflecting the same. As the conversation took a turn, Isaac clicked his tongue, grumbling something that you didn’t catch under his breath and walked away from the big circle that you had formed in the middle of the small town square. Some of the kids were giggling and others were making gag noises. Whatever Napoleon had said really changed the mood. With your eyebrows furrowed, it was a bit bizarre to see the physicist’s face suddenly turn red. Was he that irritated from the story Napoleon was telling the kids about Charlemagne? Now that Isaac was gone, you were left with no one to translate the ongoing discussion for you. Well, upon Napoleon���s instruction, whenever he was addressing the children directly and couldn’t directly translate to you, Isaac would have to step in for him and help you understand the different French expressions and words, especially the most common ones. But… what were they saying now? You did hear the word Nunuche but they were definitely not talking about you. Were they, though? Still, you didn’t want to leave, even if you were completely lost and oblivious to what was going on. You knew that Napoleon would explain it all to you later. “Does that mean that big sister is a thief?” Jacques asked. “Non, non.” He chuckled, shaking his head and sighing out his next words. “It means that I love her with all my heart.” “Is it like how I love my dog?” The little man inquired again. “I love mushrooms!” The youngest of them all, Carmen, chimed in with her own declaration. “Haha, we can all love different things. Love comes in many ways and we all feel it differently.” “How does it feel for you then, Napoleone?” Lea, who was sitting right by his side, inquired considerately, seemingly scrutinizing every word the Frenchman said. He couldn’t help but smile widely, admiring the smart glint in her eyes, the curiosity in her was nothing but meaningful and quite in place. Eyes that reminded of his beloved. You. “Well…” He pondered for a few seconds, trying to find a simple way of putting his feelings into words. “I can’t say her name without smiling.” And just the thought of it did the same, in that very moment. “And sometimes, I think that I might just walk up to her and simply ask her. “Marry me. Now.”” He admitted, the corner of his eyes crinkling a tiny bit as he announced so. God, now you really wanted to know what they were talking about. To know the reason why Napoleon looked almost… giddy in that calm authoritative way of his. “Oh! Oh! That means you want to also have kids with her!” Jacques, ever the talkative one, stated confidently. “Haha, indeed. That is something I do wish to have with her.” As he turned to look at you, you could see his smile turn wistful, the way his eyes fell upon you held so much longing, a yearning for something that may not ever be fulfilled. “I promise, I’ll tell you about everything we just said.” He reassured you with that exact same smile, masking the fleeting sadness that overcame him by clearing his throat, demanding everyone’s attention and returning back to his storytelling. He would tell you all about that conversation he had with the kids. Maybe not on that day… but what he had to say was for later, or maybe never. Luckily for him, none of the children knew how to speak English or they would have blurted out the confession that Napoleon had yet to make. –♥– A/N: Consider this as a snippet from your matchup story with your Leon. I hope you enjoy this @delicateikemenmemes and yes, the title is a Taylor Swift song reference hehe  💜 And thank you @sweetlittlemouse for beta-ing my insecure ass. Tagging: @nafeary @kisara-16 Please feel free to leave some love in the comments or some feedback!💜 You can also check out my Masterlist !

[evera6234]

Gotham’s Salty WIP: Chapter II

CHAPTER I

RATING: T (Teen for cursing and stuff, this may change)

SUMMARY: 

Basically, the typical Daminette with a bit of lime and spice. Borderline crack fic bc i cant without humor. 

Marinette Dupain-Cheng goes to Gotham whilst carrying three years worth of emotional baggage, what she does with it, we don't know. Does she lug it around? Probably. Does she kick it off a skyscraper? Not probable, but maybe. Does she use it to drop kick an unsuspecting liar. Most definitely.                ~~~> EDITED BY OLLIETHETURTLE ON AO3

Transferred from AO3. 

Lemme know if u wanna be tagged

   “Yeah, your signatures don’t line up…” says the man at the front desk. “You said your name was… Lila Rossi, right? I’m looking for a... Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

   “Present,” an amused Marinette announces.

   “No! There must have been a mistake. I personally talked to Brucie and his 4 sons, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd, Dick Drake and my precious Damibear!”

   “Yeah no. That 100% didn’t happen. 100%,” the somewhat peeved front desk attendant grins.

   “How dare you talk to Lila like that! What’s your name? Give me your manager's number!” Alya fumes in a french accent (A/N: total karen moment intentionally placed). 

   “My name is Andrew Winston, and my supervisor….”

   “Hey Andrew, what’s poppin!” says a voice. After observation one could say that said voice comes from a tall muscular man, with a white streak in his hair, wearing a leather jacket.

   “My blood vessels, Jason. My blood vessels. Why are you here? You weren’t supposed to be here today.”

    “Yeah, Dick broke his arm yesterday at home. He fell down the stairs. And since I am such an amazing brother, I decided that I would fill in for him today!”

   “You were forced,” concludes Andrew as he scratches out Lila’s name off the previously mentioned thicc stack of papers with a black marker. 

   “Yup.”

   “This is the class you are supposed to caddy around WE. And they seem to be a bit peeved right now.”

   Jason sighs, “Ok. what’s the issue…”

   “They are saying that Lila Rossi, here” Andrew points to Lila, then looks down at his notes “says she spoke to a Brucie, a Jason Grayson, a Tim Todd, a Dick Drake and her precious Damibear to set up this field trip. My info here says that a girl named Marinette Dupain-Cheng set this trip up but they don’t believe me.” Andrew nonchalantly continues “Speaking of which, Marinette please sign on all the starred lines. Lila and her friend already filled out everything else.”

   “Tim Todd!” Jason chokes. 

¬`

   The tour had slowed down in the corridors of Wayne Enterprises as Jason let the students go on a quick bathroom and water break. Lila had left for the bathroom, and it is safe to say that Marinette learnt her lesson to avoid bathroom confrontations with Lila. They were never fun, and right now she doesn’t think she can handle a wet shirt in winter. 

   “Really, Marinette. You take credit for all of Lila’s hard work,” says Kim passing by.

   “Do you have any idea how hard Lila worked on this, and you know she hardly has any time to spare.” Max pitches in. 

   “Yeah. Lila worked so fucking hard concocting the names Jason Grayson, Tim Todd and Dick Drake. Sounds like the revamped cast to The Three Stooges,” Chloe crackles giggling.

   “I sure wonder how Tim Todd and Jason Grayson are today? Are they well?” Marinette questions sarcastically.

   “Absolutely fucking amazing after hearing that!” Jason wheezes, overhearing the conversation. Jason gave Marinette a knowing look that confirmed an earlier inference. This Jason was Jason Todd. This was priceless. 

   Adrien’s eyes narrow on his angered face. “What was she doing.” “She promised to take the high road.” “She only needs me, I’m her best friend.” He watched the situation from a distance, unnoticed by Marinette. But as sly he is, he did not slip Jason’s radar. 

¬

   “So y’all, 1:30pm. That means, Lunch time!  Right and you’ll be at the cafeteria, I’ll be joining you guy in about 15 minutes. So fuel up. Remember to show your IDs, lunch is on the house! Bon appetit!” Jason cheerfully announced as bows dramatically (like actors at the end of a play) and he turns around.

   A bit into lunch Mrs. Bustier came up to Marinette and Chloe’s table. “Marinette, can I talk to you?” asks Mrs. Bustier. 

  “Can I come too, Mrs. Bustier?” asks Chloe suspiciously

   “No, Chloe. This is just in between Marinette and I, sorry.” Mrs. Bustier replies sternly.

   “It’s okay, Chloe. I’ll be fine,” reassured the ladybug holder, squeezing the bee holder’s hand.

   “Ok, fine. Let me know if something happens.” Then Chloe leans in to whisper to Marinette, “Audio record it, just in case.” Marinette nods. 

   “Ok, Mrs. Bustier. I’m coming!” replies the bluenette happily as she follows Mrs. Bustier away from the crowd. 

   Adrien, from his table with Nino, Alya and Lila watched, “Hey guys, I need to go to the bathroom,” he said before standing up.

¬

  “Marinette you should be setting an example for the class. What you did today, making fun of Lila was wrong,” Mrs. Bustier frowned. “You of all people know Lila's condition and you should be more accepting of her.” Disappointed, Mrs. Bustier continues, “I expect you to apologize to her before we head back to the hotel.”

   “With all respect, no thank you. I will not apologize for my actions,” Marinette sternly begins. “Does the school have any medical record of her illness?” Marinette asks. “Why should I allow her to take credit for my hard work? And why do I have to be the model student who is obligated to be kind to everyone, when no one ever is to me?” Marinette, now more frustrated than before, questions the teacher. She felt a storm of emotion begin to stir. 

   “Because you are the class representative! It is your responsibility to lead the class with your example! Lila is a student with needs, she needs to feel accepted by all her classmates and it is your job to fulfill her needs.”

   “I’m sorry Mrs. Bustier, but sometimes I can’t shove a square in a circle. Sometimes I can’t do things. Lila is lying, and I can’t lie with her. I will not lie.i will not pretend to like her. And why must I be responsible for all the students in class, but receive no respect for it. Receive nothing but hate and insults. How is that fair for me?” Tears begin to collect in Marinette’s eyes. Mrs. Bustier, for the longest time, has been one of Marinette’s favourite teachers. The fact that right now Mrs. Bustier, couldn’t give less of a shit about her feeling hurt. 

   “I understand but what about Lila’s feelings? I cannot let you bully Lila. You are being selfish right now, I never thought you could act like this. I am disappointed in you.” Mrs. Bustier finishes as she walks away. 

   “What about MY feelings. What about me, what’s so wrong with me being selfish every once in a while. Have you ever looked into my family’s bullying complaints against Lila? What about me?” Marinette cries  desperately, as Mrs. Bustier walks away. “Why is everyone ignoring me?”

   “The real question here is, why are you ignoring me?” growled a voice from behind Marinette. “I thought you promised me to take the high road.” Marinette’s eyes widen as she realizes who’s talking to her. 

   “I never promised, Adrien. Not once. I can’t keep silent and alone for longer.”

   “You are not alone, you have me. And I even LET you talk with Chloe.”

   “Yes, I have Chloe and thank you your majesty for letting me communicate with another human being. And no, Adrien I do not have you,” Marinette raises her voice. “Lila has you, you only talk to me in secret. You let Lila lie, you let her hang off your pretty model arms when she wills. You are and were never on my side.”

   “So you really are jealous?”

   Marinette, delirious with anger frustration, her voice laced with contempt, “No, never.” 

   He looks down at Marinette and smiles “Stop lying Marinette.” 

   “I’m not.” Adrien looks back at Marinette, as if he knows something as he too stalks away. “I’M NOT!” Marinette yells. 

¬

   “So she said that she talked to Brucie, Jason Grayson, Tim Todd, a Dick Drake and her precious Damibear!” Jason nearly on his side from laughing too hard. 

   “DAMIBEAR!” Tim howled in laughter, with his hands wrapped around his torso to somehow hold his ribcage together. Both brother’s are laughing their asses off in Tim’s office.

   “I KNOW!”

   “Are we gonna tell him?” Tim begins to ask before he interrupts himself, “No! We are not. What we are going to do is call him that and let him figure it out, sooner or later he will meet the class and when he does…”

   Jason let the scenario Tim described play in his head, “YES! You now speak my wavelength, to be honest maybe Lila wasn’t lying. You may be a Todd.”

   “No fucking way am I one. By the way, you should check on the class, how long has it been since you left them?”

   “Shit! Twenty minutes! Farewell, dear Replacement.”

   “Have fun, report back on any juicy lies, specifically ones about sweet baby Damibear or even Brucie.” 

¬

   “What the fuck was that?” thought Jason as he heard two people arguing in a secluded hallway, “Marinette?” he thought when he saw the girl, immediately putting a name to the face. But he didn’t know the boy. Jason whipped out his phone and quickly took a picture of the situation, making sure to get a clear shot of the boy’s face. For research purposes.

Gunz Blazin: Hey Tim Todd

Gunz Blazin:  Can you gimme a background check for this guy 

(*attaches a cropped image of the mystery boy’s face*) 

Boy Wonder: ???Tim Todd???

Replacement: I gotchu fam. 

Boy Wonder: ???fam???

Boy Wonder: ???

Boy Wonder: Can I be a Todd too

Replacement: No you're a Drake 

   Jason heard a voice coming from behind him, “That’s Adrien Agreste.” 

   Jason turns his head to look at the boy again and hears more of the conversation. He turns back and she’s a tall-ish blonde girl with blue eyes. “You are? Marinette’s friend?”

   “Yes.”

   “And he is not Marinette’s friend?”

   “He absolutely is not Marinette’s friend. He’s the ass-hat who thinks he owns Marinette. Are you SURE I can’t punch him in the face?”

   “Yes.”

   “What if I just break his nose a little.” (Requested by Ollietheturtle, my new dear editor)

   “As an employee of Wayne Enterprises, I’m supposed to say no, but in all honestly I kinda wanna do that myself…”

¬

TAG LIST: @jeminiikrystal @demonicbusiness @i-am-ironic @woe-is-me0 @miracleofadisaster @clumsy-owl-4178 @onmywaytoloveyou

[babyboyblasty]

CHAPTER 12:

All the girls had at least one bag in their hand. Momo had eight (some big but most of them medium sized that only contained one or two things each), Mina four, Hagakure two, Jirou one, Uraraka one, Tsuyu two, and Aoyama five. The only one without any bags was Bakugou since he hasn’t bought anything. So far— and he will rather die than admit it out loud— hanging out with his classmates wasn’t the most terrible thing that has happened to him these past three days. He was actually kinda having a good time.

"You should have come with us to get your nails painted too, Bakugou-kun" Hagakure placed an invisible hand on his shoulder where he saw some glittery blue polish.

"Yeah! I think a nice /green/ would look great on you" Uraraka smiled, giving a wink to Tsuyu who shook her head.

“Actually, I think Bakubabe would prefer a firetruck /red/ ” Mina nudged Jirou who gave her friend a knowing look.

"On the contrary, I believe a nice dark color like black or purple would suit Bakugou-san best" Momo suggested, oblivious to what her other friends were hinting at. "Perhaps Bakugou would like to join us on our next trip?" she turned to look at him and he looked back at her then the rest who were waiting for his answer like they were insane.

"But I won't be a girl then" he replied like they'd forgotten. 

"We know that, kero, but Bakugou-chan is fun when he is not yelling," Tsuyu responded, a finger to her cheek.

"You joining us again would be très bien, monsieur" Aoyama smiled over at him, wiggling his fingers in front of his face to show off simplistic french tipped fingernails. 

Bakugou didn't really respond but he did smile a little on the inside. Not that they needed to know that though.

The conversation was dropped to start another one about what they've bought so far, cuticle care (via Aoyama), and what they wanted to do tomorrow in their free day. That somehow turned into Momo recalling a restaurant she visited with her parents where the food was magnificent and that led to Bakugou claiming he can make the best damn breakfast they've ever had and Jirou challenging him to cook breakfast for them tomorrow to prove it. He agreed of course and the girls couldn't wait. They already knew Bakugou was a great cook but challenging him was always fun for both them and for Bakugou since he liked to prove he was the best.

After walking around for a bit, the girls decided that they wanted to go into a store that just recently opened. It was one similar to Victoria Secret that sold lingerie and other intimate clothing that Bakugou didn’t feel comfortable in so the blonde stayed outside on his phone. 

"Is that Bakugou Katsuki I'm seeing? Or do my eyes deceive me" Bakugou could practically hear the smirk and sarcasm dripping from the words. Looking up, he saw Emo Deku 2.0 walking over to where he was standing, the smug bastard. 

"Is that the human vibrator I'm seeing? Or is it just a big pile of dog shit" he countered back, baring his teeth up at the guy. Shindou Yo always rubbed him the wrong way and just the sound of his voice and that dumb way he patronized and looked down at him like he was better was enough to make his blood boil. He thought he’d seen the end of him after their provisional hero license exam when he was a first year and Shindou was a third year, but fate has a funny way of working and Bakugou seems to run into the guy more often than he'd like when he's out doing public service hero work or at internships. 

"No need for insults, Bakugou. I was just surprised to see you, that's all. I heard about what happened over at the agency but I didn't believe it. I mean, you /are/ supposed to be the best, right? So how on earth was I to believe that a small time thug got the upper hand on the Great Explosion Murder God DynaMight?" Shindou tilted his head, looking down at Bakugou with fake curiosity and concern. "I could see I was mistaken though. Maybe you're just not as amazing as they say you are /just/ yet. That's okay though. It took me all three years at Ketsubutsu Academy to fully learn how to be a great hero but I guess some people need more time. It's okay being a late bloomer. Isn't that right, Katsuki?"

Bakugou was positively fuming and it took everything in him not to launch at him right then and there. He wasn't the same explosive boy from his first year that couldn't control his impulses. Besides, making him lose his composure is what that asshole wanted and he won't give him the satisfaction. He won't compromise his perfect record and possibly endanger someone by using his quirk in a public setting. Clenching his fist as hard as he could, he let the sparks threatening to ignite die in his palms.

"What? You've got nothing to say, Katsuki? How very unlike you" the black haired boy teased. It's been two years since Shindou Yo graduated from Ketsubutsu Academy High School and half a year since he's been working as a rookie pro hero. He was assigned to this mall by the agency he works at and imagine his surprise when he saw Bakugou just standing there in the open like that. Really, he just couldn't resist coming over and saying hi. The blonde was always so entertaining. 

"Pro-hero Grand! May we have your autograph?" a small girl and boy ran over to them, each holding a pen and notebook in their hands up to Shindou's face. The man's condescending smile changed into a friendly one at the flip of a switch. "Of course! It'd be an honor" he laughed and gave them both his signature. Bakugou let out a 'tch' sound, crossing his arms over his chest. "Thank you for your support!" he waved them goodbye and the children waved back with a 'thank you', running off back to a woman who they guessed was their mother.

"Does it ever get tiring being a two-faced bitch?" Bakugou growled and Shindou turned back to him, letting out an amused laugh.

"See? There he is. Or should I say she now?" he made a thinking face and laughed when Bakugou audibly growled like a dog. "That's what I like about you, Bakugou. Always so feisty" he cooed before stepping a bit closer. Bakugou kept his ground so they were almost chest to chest, Bakugou glaring up at the guy because of his new height. If he was smaller by one or two inches before, he is now nearly half a foot shorter than the bastard. "You know, this look actually kinda suits you. It makes you look cute when you're angry so really I can't even take you seriously. Not that I did before, but now I get the sudden urge to hug you. Isn't that funny?" he smirked.

"Well take a good long look, perv, because I'll be turning back to normal tomorrow morning," Bakugou spat. Shindou looked genuinely confused for a split second and it made Bakugou get a sinking feeling in his chest.

"Tomorrow morning? Are you sure? Did Eraser tell you that?" the pro hero raised an eyebrow, a smile tugging at his lips. 

"What the hell are you getting at?" Bakugou frowned. 

"Oh nothing, don't mind me. If that's what your teacher said then it must be true" he shrugged.

"Is there something you're not telling me? If there is, spit it out already."

"Like I said, it's nothing. Anyway, I must be getting back to work. The streets don't keep themselves safe, you know?" Shindou smiled and turned to leave but Bakugou immediately grabbed his arm, spinning him around to face him and gripping onto the black and gold top piece of his hero costume to pull him down to his eye level.

"Woah there Bakugou. Aren't we moving just a bit too fast?" the older of the two chuckled.

"Listen up, dumbass. I swear if there's something you're not telling me I'll—" he growled out before getting interrupted by a stern voice.

"Bakugou! What is going on here? Let go of him immediately" Iida stepped up to both of them. Midoriya, Todoroki, and the other three standing behind the tall, navy haired male were all ready to intervene if need be, Midoriya and Todoroki more so than the rest.

Bakugou unclenched his hands from Shindou's hero costume with a huff and Shindou smoothed it out with a throaty laugh.

"Thanks for that. Iida Tenya, right? Ingenium's younger brother?" Shindou smiled. 

The class rep nodded and answered 'yes, I am' before putting his hands together. "Pro-hero Grand," Iida gave a deep bow, "I apologize in advance for my classmate's despicable behavior. As class rep it is my responsibility to ensure everyone acts their best in order to better represent the name of U.A. My apologies again, sir!" Iida was practically yelling and it caused a few heads to turn their way in curiosity to what was happening, but they all looked away with a sharp glare from a certain ash blonde that basically told them to mind their own fucking business. "Is everything okay? Was Bakugou bothering you?"

Bakugou could have laughed. Of course they'd think that so he wasn’t even surprised.

"What?" Shindou laughed before the black haired hero began maneuvering the younger so that he had an arm around Bakugou's shoulders and his other hand was holding one of Bakugou's wrists like they were the best of pals. "Oh no, not at all. Bakugou-kun and I were just talking about old times. I was giving him a few words of my experience so far and some advice as a pro hero" the male gave a bright smile. "What you saw just now was a new move Bakugou was demonstrating to me. There is no problem here, right Katsuki?"

"Whatever."

Midoriya's eyes flickered over to Kacchan. Honestly, he doesn't think that that was what happened at all. He thinks Shindou said or did something that made Bakugou react that way. He's known the blonde for a long time now and while his childhood friend might be a hot head, he wasn't the type to start fights without reason. Todoroki, Shoji, and Koda thought the same but didn't say anything. They didn’t get good vibes from Shindou either.

Todoroki didn't like the interaction between those two one bit and Izuku felt the need to go up and pull his Kacchan away from him.

"Well, that's a relief" Iida answered with a bit of hesitance. He was still a bit suspicious but let the matter slide.

"I hope to see you all out in the field in a few years. Work hard" Shindou said his goodbyes to all of them individually before turning to Bakugou. "It was nice bumping into you, Katsuki-chan. And I meant what I said earlier too. You look good" he winked and Bakugou growled. "Take care, guys" he smiled, waving goodbye. 

They all watched the hero go before Iida was turning to Bakugou. "What happened between you two, Bakugou?" he frowned and Bakugou grumbled.

"Nothin' that concerns any of you. Now quit buggin me."

Iida tried not to take offense. After a few years of being classmates, he should be used to the blonde's somewhat hostile way of speaking. “As you wish. Why were you alone? Where are the girls and Aoyama?” he asked.

“In the store” he huffed, crossing his arms over his chest.

Almost as if by magic, Bakugou’s group started walking out of the store, some carrying new small bags. 

“Deku-kun! Iida-kun!” Uraraka grinned, going up to them excitedly.

“Uraraka-san. It’s good to see you” Izuku smiled. The rest of them caught up before Iida started lecturing the girls about leaving Bakugou alone.

“I can take care of myself, four eyes!” he yelled but Iida paid no attention to him as he continued talking to the rest about what he saw happening with Bakugou and Shindou earlier to make a point about why we should all be in groups or in pairs at all times. Mina gasped loudly and Momo turned around to look at Bakugou with sympathy.

“Did he do something to you, Bakugou?" the pink girl was stomping over to him, a furious look on her face. "Where is he? I’ll beat him up I swear” Mina frowned, looking around to see if she can spot the black haired hero around. For his sake, he better pray she doesn't. Apparently she thought the same thing Midoriya did.

"Bakugou-kun! I am terribly sorry we left you alone. I should have known better and stayed behind with you. I am so sorry for your troubles" she apologized.

"Hah? Do you think I'm some type of damsel in distress now or something? It's fine, ponytail. Quit apologizing" he grumbled, looking away. “You too, Pinky.”

Momo gave him a soft smile and went in for a hug. She was sure he'd most likely push her off so when he didn't, she was very surprised. He didn't hug back but Momo didn't expect him to and she hugged him a bit tighter, the rest of the girls going in for a group hug as well. The boys were unsure what to do (even though some of them really wanted to join) so they stood to the side and watched how Bakugou started telling them to quit being "sentimental fucks" and let go already. They could tell he didn’t really mind it when he didn't immediately threaten to blow them up though.

Bakugou couldn’t wait until he went back to normal tomorrow.

[ word count: 2318 ]

(the shindou and bakugou inspiration for this chapter was these two pieces of fanart!)

[trash-but-respectable-trash]

Headcanons of what life in the Devildom would be like if my best friend and I were both exchange student at the same time:

Heads up! This is completely self-indulgent content. I made this as a gift for my best friend: @beel-is-a-snack love you bitch 😘

Lucifer:

- Lucifer would probably really hate us at first.

- It’s feels to him like everywhere we go together, something really weird will happen

- It’s things he cannot link to us, but he knows it’s because of us because these things never happened before

- At first, we probably wouldn’t listen to his orders, we didn’t leave a controlling household just to go to another one

- A single punishment (and not the kinky kind) would be all it takes for us to never disobey his orders again

- It would come at no surprise that I would immediatly have a fat crush on him and that I would talk about him all the time to you, even though you wouldn’t understand what I see in him at first

- The more you would notice how much he cares about his brothers, the more you would like him. You two would developed a mutual understanding about taking the role of the parent by default even if that wasn’t your choice

- You two could probably also relate to each other’s daddy issues sorry love you

- With time you two could be really close friends, but probably not more than that, because he’s mine

- Don’t worry we’ll find you a more suitable boyfriend

- He definitely wouldn’t try to come between our friendship and would never be jealous of it either

- He would give us plenty of time alone, but even if he didn’t, we couldn’t even try to speak French around him because I’m 100% sure he also speak French as a second or third or fourth language

- We would probably found out about it the hard way while I would either tell you how handsome he is or you telling me he’s a control freak and he would just reply to us in perfect French

- Yeah we would only make that mistake once

Mammon

- Mammon also hates us at first, he has to take care of TWO humans?? That’s asking too much of him, he can barely take care of himself

- After a while, it would probably be the other way around as we would be the ones taking care of him

- He cannot decide which one of us he loves more (probably the one who gives him the most attention and positive reinforcement)

- He quickly becomes jealous of our friendship and tries to hangout with us every chances he gets

- It can be a bit awkward when we’re trying to talk about boys, since we’re likely talking about his brothers

- We would need to have codes to refer to the brothers or we could use French when we don’t want him to understand what we’re saying, since he’s definitely too dumb to understand French

- It was 100% clear in our minds that neither of us would end up dating Mammon as we both need someone who could mentally stimulates us

- Also he would for sure steal our stuff out of our rooms and try to sell them

- After a full week of silent treatment from both of us, he wouldn’t ever try to steal our stuff again

- He would try to trick us in participating in his shaninagans, but we would probably report it to Lucifer just to see Mammon get punish (ok mostly me, but I would drag you with me to see the aftermath)

- Never suspects us of being the one who snitch him all the time to Lucifer, he probably thinks it’s Levi

Leviathan

- Oh boy. Opposite to Lucifer and Mammon, it’s us who hates him at first

- What the fuck is that hair style, why is he always screaming and talking an hundred miles an hour rambling about animes and Ruri-Chan, who’s Ruri-Chan??

- Probably calls us normies until he finds out you had a Naruto collection when you were 13 years old and that you used to love mangas

- And that I now enjoy some animes and mangas myself, so now he calls both of us weebs, which isn’t much better honestly

- We would TOLERATE gaming with him if he isn’t screaming all the fucking time

- We would immediately leave any room we’re in everytime he says “Woooooaaaahhhh”

- He needs to shut up or else we can never be friends with him

- He also gets jealous of our friendship, he wish he had a best friend with such a strong bond, yeah he has Henry 2.0 but it’s just not the same you know

- He wonders if his friendship with Ruri-Chan would be similar to ours if she was real

- He tried to become really close with Solomon to recreate our friendship, but Solomon spent his time trying to form a pact with Levi so he ended it

Satan

- I have to say that I think that Satan and I are the most similar

- We’re both intelligent, independent and observant individuals who do not tolerate dumb people, we both enjoy reading a bit too much, we’re both messy, we’re both way too honest and we’re pros at hiding our anger (especially towards stupidity)

- Ok, so I’m not saying you wouldn’t get along with Satan, I just think you wouldn’t have much in common with him and by that I mean that’s he’s a very rational being and the best form of art in his eyes is writing

- I think what would make it or break it for both of you is his and your knowledge on all forms of arts and the history being it. Satan would probably test you and if you pass in his eyes, you can be friends, otherwise he would consider you unworthy

- Yeah I know it’s rough, but you don’t need a friend who needs to test you on your knowledge about art to see if you two can be friends

- Even if you pass the test, I don’t see you two being super close as he is mostly in his room reading and you would be in your studio, doing all of your art projects

- In any case, you guys would have to get along somehow since he would probably be the one I would be closest with and you’re my best friend so obviously you two would have to hang out by default quite a lot

- When you would be in your studio, I would probably be at the library or in Satan’s room reading

- We would also all study together and use Satan as our tutor for classes were we have more difficulty (but you’re lucky, there’s no French class given at RAD so you should do fine)

Asmodeus

- If we push aside the lust part of him and focus on his other personality traits, Asmo would like us from the start

- Two best friends how fun! He would probably tell us how Solomon is his best friend before finding out later by Solomon that it isn’t true

- Asmo is a lonely demon, sure he gets plenty of physical attention, but no one cares about him past his beauty

- We would be the one to change that, we would both see further than his beauty, but also further than his narcissistic ways to find out who the real Asmo is

- He’s the insecure one who only wants to be love. We would both act as his therapist. Sometimes he would confess to us while doing our nails and makeup or sometimes he would just start sobbing on my lap or your lap, pouring his heart out and telling us his deepest fears and secrets because he finally feels safe enough to say these things to someone

- He would probably crave our attention and comfort the more and more we listen to him. We would need to set boundaries or else we would feel like we’re suffocating. We both need our space and Asmo would have to understand that fact

- We would rub on him and he would slowly stop going out so much, instead appreciating his alone time the better he feels about himself

Beelzebub

- At first I would be a bit scared of him, he’s big and he keeps making comments about how delicious we look (and again, not in the kinky way)

- You on the other hand, would probably feel that he isn’t a bad guy at all and you would definitely see more than his angry looking face and his never ending comments about food

- Just a few conversations with him can tell how much he cares about his family and his twin in particular

- That man is such an himbo, but he also have a big heart just like you and you’re both so cute together

- Everyone ship the both of you even though you’re both emotionally dense and it would take a while for you and him to FINALLY be together

- It’s not that you didn’t love each other, it’s just that you never took the signs that the other one was sending you, mistaking it for simple kindness and nothing more

- He would probably have to just straight up tell you l that he’s in love with you for your relationship to go anywhere

- Basically everyone’s like “FINALLY” the moment you both annonce that you’re officially dating

- Wedding and kids would come shortly after that

- You’re both very family oriented and are both super vanilla so that’s a winning couple if I’ve ever seen one

Belphegor

- Ok first of all, if we were the MC, Belphie would 100% still be locked in the attic

- It would only take one warning from Lucifer for us to never go up those stairs again

- But for the sake of this, let’s say you knew this was Beel’s brother and you loved Beel so much that you were ready to face the consequences to save his brother

- And let’s say I wasn’t aware of this, because if I were and we both decided to go up the stairs anyway, it wouldn’t take me long at all before realizing that Belphie is lying to us and that we cannot trust him

- If I wasn’t aware of you going up the stairs by yourself, you’re so trusting of everyone that you would for sure do the same thing as the MC and free Belphegor just to get yourself killed. I told you dozens of time, don’t trust everyone!

- Anyway, let’s say we both died somehow (I probably got killed by Lucifer once he found out what you did) and Barbatos and Diavolo brought us to a timeline were we didn’t die

- Well, let’s say the saying “I forgive but I never forget” would represent me 100%

- I would be forgiving for the sake of Beelzebub, but Belphie and I would NEVER be close, whether it appears to be the case or not

- I might let him sleep on my lap or listen to him talk about how he loves his twin, but don’t get me wrong, I would never trust him or be his friend

- In your case, you would either be like me or you wouldn’t ever forgive him

- Forgivness isn’t always something you can control and you might always hold a grudge against him after what he did

- That could either destroy what you had with Beel, because he cannot date someone who hates his brother so much, or he could also understand how you feel, but he would still try to make you and his brother friends good luck with that

Diavolo

- Oh boy that’s my type of man right there

- What a fucking piece of ass

- Ok back on track, Diavolo would obviously be the one who’s most excited to have us in the Devildom

- He would always invite us for tea, asking us questions about the human world and laughing at our dumb stories

- We would troll him with human traditions that don’t exist like how you need to pray before eating chocolate truffle or how humans eat St-Hubert (a rotisserie restaurant comparable to Nando’s) every Sunday and how What Makes You Beautiful by One Direction is the national anthem of our country

- I can imagine him watching the video clip of What Makes You Beautiful that same night and being like “wow! That is beautiful!”

- Lucifer would be so mad at us, but it would be worth it

- We would also tell him that “thug life” and “yolo” are commonly use expression in the human world when you’re excited about something and he would start using them at the most random moments while everyone is like “???”

- We would totally hate every party hosted by Diavolo and we would 1000% leave to explore the castle only to get lost and then brought back by either Barbatos or Lucifer (lord have mercy)

- It doesn’t matter, we would do it everytime, choosing a different path everytime until we’ve explore every part of the castle (which would realistically never happen)

- Diavolo would probably give us a plan of the castle behind Lucifer’s back so we can explore the castle however we want. He himself, isn’t a fan of these events and would much rather hang out with us than be stuck making conversations with nobles he doesn’t care about

- Other than that, you would have to listen to me talk endlessly about how it isn’t fair that I cannot date both Lucifer AND Diavolo until I actually do

Barbatos

- This one is a difficult one, since we basically know nothing about the Butler

- We would probably have a good grasp of who he is if we were in the devildom, since we have pretty good intuitions on people

- I would probably talk to Barbatos about baking and all the different variations of tea, probably dropping way to soon a reference to Black Butler like he never heard the comparaison before

- Much like his devilgram story, he would probably invite me to get some specific type of tea that can only be purchase out of town, never implying that it’s a date even though he qualify it as one in his head

- There’s not much more to say about him, I think you would see him as Diavolo’s Butler more than a potential lover or close friend

Simeon

- Ouf poor sweet angel. Let’s state the obvious first, he would probably be very disappointed in me and my very obvious lust for certain demons

- Wouldn’t be happy with me straying further away from god each passing day

- I would defend myself by telling him I do pray and go once a year to church to ask God for forgiveness for all of my sins

- Yeah if I was in the Devildom, my list of sins I committed during my stay would be particularly long

- Still, I would have no regrets

- Ok, I have to say it, this angel is shady. I think we would sense that something isn’t right with him. His smile and energy are a little off, he’s definitely hiding something but what?

- If we had time to kill we could do some research on the matter and ask people around about what they know about Simeon, maybe spy on him while he’s out in town?

- We would probably get caught and ask by a very scary Simeon, to stop whatever we are doing

- Yeah let’s take the wise decision of staying away from him from now on

Solomon

- He would need to understand that it’s not because we’re all humans that we NEED to hang out together

- I would have to keep you away from him, or at least not let you hang out alone with him. I don’t think he’s evil, but he might use you as human experiment for his potions and spells and I don’t want you to accidentally be turned into a pig or something

- I’ll accept the occasional vines references wars and the team up to tell Diavolo even more made up things about the human world, but that’s all

- I would probably compare him to Harry Potter all the time

- Let’s just stay far away from the shady sorcerer

Luke

- I have no motherly instincts, but I would protect this child from all of the brothers teasing, but that’s about it. I really don’t care about this child, SIMEON COME PICK UP YOUR SON, HE POOPED HIMSELF AGAIN “Stephanie that’s not true!!” Luke would bark back as he tries to hide the streak of poop on the back of his white pants (sorry I don’t know why this came to mind, but I have this headcanon that sometimes when he’s afraid, Luke will poop his pants and this boy is VERY scared of Lucifer, so it happens quite often)

- You would probably be way more motherly towards him than me and you and Beel would basically adopt Luke as your own child

- Just always carry baby wipes and a clean pair of pants with you at all times and you’re all good

- I hope you like baking sweets, because your son will surely want to spend some bonding time with his mom over baking time, and of course you have to enjoy the sweets you both made over a nice cup of tea that Barbatos made for you two

[morsking]

And so we have concluded Lostbelt 2! Now that I’ve experienced it for myself, I have a much clearer picture about how I feel about this chapter. As I progressed one thing became very clear to me, and that was that Hazuki Minase likely did NOT have any influence with this chapter, and its weakest points can be attributed to its main writer, Hikaru Sakurai, once we more closely scrutinize her work.

For starters, I would like to apologize to the people who kept trying to tell me Minase had nothing to do with the writing of Losbelt 2. You were correct, I simply acted stubbornly because I was terrified that one of the writers I loathe the most had returned to haunt and corrupt the franchise I hold very dear to me. I insisted on blaming him for any flaws because he was an easy scapegoat and a bogeyman, and while we all agree he is a pervert and a hack who should be fired, it is simply not fair to point fingers at imaginary criminals. A person should always be held accountable only for the misdeeds they have actually committed. Indeed, we may now explore Lostbelt 2 and the integrity of its writing with a more objective perspective, or rather as objective as I can manage to be.

The overall theme of the Lostbelt is “acknowledging one’s emotions as a vehicle for personal growth”. The issue persistent in the setting of Lostbelt Scandinavia was that it was a place where only young humans were allowed to survive. These humans would be oblivious to what real growth and prosperity were really like. They were innocent, and emotionally and intellectually stunted groups of people who only knew to live for the truth of their eventual demise. They lived short, rushed lives where they would stay ignorant of basic human experiences, such as love, grudges, aging, vice, hate, competition, and companionship because they devoted themselves to living how Scathach-Skadi ordered them to. They were unable to think or decide what to do for themselves, and were thus incapable of not just taking the reins to decide their own evolution as we do in Proper Human History, but also of fathoming doing such a thing in the first place.

This is a mirror to Ophelia Phamrsolone. Ophelia was conditioned to only listen to others for purpose and direction. Ophelia doesn’t actually know how to listen to her own feelings or even what those feelings even are because she was never allowed to connect not just with herself but with anyone. Ophelia, like Surtr points out, is still very much a little girl terrified by everything around her because she has no balance, no capacity for finding her center as a healthy and normal human being would. Unbeknownst to herself, all her interactions with others are a plea for help. Her very first interaction with Mash in 2017 was asking her if she’d like to have lunch with her and Pepe because Ophelia is terrified by male strangers and wishes to connect with other women as well. Ophelia’s conversations with Kirschtaria are also her not knowing how to proceed with challenges and therefore appealing to authority both for comfort and advice. Finally, her monologues with the Alien Priestess are Ophelia venting about how she feels, as if she were unaware of what to really think of herself as her helplessness and indecision drown her in a lake of self-loathing. 

These cries for help extend to the way she summons her Servants. Ophelia is noted to be incredibly proficient at evocation. Some might even call her a genius. In fact, she is such a genius she unknowingly managed to contract not just with one, nor two, but three different Servants all at once. The first Servant to answer her summon was Sigurd, the King of Warriors from Nordic mythology. The second Servant was Surtr the King of Giants and Scourge of Ragnarok (titled by yours truly), who hijacked the summoning and took over Sigurd. The third, and most pivotal, was Napoleon Bonaparte, the French Emperor whose Spirit Origin was modified to embody the “ideal Good Fellow who could make dreams come true” rather than the actual historical Napoleon.

What these three Servants have in common is that Ophelia wished for all of them from the darkest depths of her heart. Ophelia desired capable Servants who could give her some form of direction and stability. 

Sigurd, for example, is a hero renown for rescuing Brynhild and giving brand new meaning to her life by showering her with love and devotion. Love and devotion are things that Ophelia not just desires to be shown but actively struggles to adequately express to others because she has never known what it’s like to experience those things. To Ophelia, Sigurd represents “being given that which you have never known and finding fulfillment”. 

Surtr, on the other hand, embodies a darker type of direction: the terror stagnation, conformity, monotony, inaction, and eternal suffering. Surtr exercises control over Ophelia by threatening to destroy the world if he is released, prompting Ophelia to flash to her childhood locked away by her abusive parents every dreaded Sunday. Surtr locks Ophelia into a state of helplessness and indecision where she has to carefully consider how she will proceed with dealing with Surtr. Ophelia has decided to lock herself in with him as a way to prevent him from breaking out of both Sigurd’s body and the physical prison inside the Lostbelt’s sun. This is a situation where Ophelia is in a constant state of stress and fear, since as a Crypter the last thing she could ever want to see is the destruction of yet another world by her hands. More personally, the death of the Lostbelt would also mean death for Ophelia, as she has failed her purpose once again and thus would have no worth as a person. However, what Ophelia cannot understand, because Surtr himself does not, is that Surtr’s destructive impulses are how he wants to show love and devotion towards her. Surtr has reasoned that since their worlds abandoned them after they failed to perform their ordained tasks, the only thing left is to annihilate them completely as retribution for their suffering. Surtr does not wish to hurt Ophelia, but because he is a being defined only by his overwhelming desire to burn everything, he cannot help her heal or grow in any way that matters. All he can offer is annihilation. To Ophelia, Surtr represents “self-destruction through a static state of being”.

Finally, there is Napoleon. Napoleon represents a pronounced antithesis to Ophelia’s entire personality. He is an upbeat, improvising, confident man who chooses to not stress over things because what he is seeing is only what lies ahead, not what lies in front of him.He also breaks her defenses by asking something so ridiculous and unexpected as her hand in marriage when they have only just met. Napoleon refuses to give in to any negative outcome regardless of how much the odds are stacked against him, as he demonstrated in Scathach-Skadi’s throne room where he refused to let Sigurd kill his Master despite being restrained by Skadi’s paralyzing rune. He demonstrates this once again when he blows his final shot at Surtr during the final battle, sacrificing his own life to give Chaldea the opportunity to regroup and bombard Surtr to bring him down. He is called the Man of Infinite Possibilities precisely because he faces the unknown head on and finds the best path to walk for his comrades to advance. He does not let fear take over his heart and judgement, he creates a rainbow as a bridge connecting the present to the bright, shining future. He is precisely the hero Ophelia needs, because he embodies “the bravery to grasp your own future and find your own direction”. 

But analyzing these characters further is a post for another time. What I want to get into are the gripes I have with this Lostbelt. 

Now, I could lead you on through a couple more paragraphs before I wham you with what this all means in a much higher metatextual level, but I don’t have the time nor the creativity to do that so I’m just gonna give it to you straight. This square between Ophelia, Sigurd, Surtr, and Napoleon is the storyline that matters most in Lostbelt 2. Scathach-Skadi matters little despite her own parallels with Ophelia and being the Lostbelt King, and the situation with the Lostbelt’s inhabitants matters even less. Why?

Because Lostbelt 2 is Sakurai coming full circle and writing an otome game like Fate/Prototype was meant to be before Fate/stay night became a thing. 

SHOCKER!! SOUND EFFECTS OF SURPRISE!! DRAMATIC KAZOOS GALORE!!

Now, that’s exaggerating a little. Or maybe not that much, actually.

What Sakurai was doing was applying conventional otome game tropes into the setting not just what she’s familiar writing for, but because Lostbelt 2 is inherently an incredibly self-indulgent project. 

There is a classic trademark otome fantasy at play here: the fantasy of multiple men being devoted to a female main character a player can relate to. There is no denying there is a certain appeal to the idea that there are several handsome men all willing to devore their entire lives to a person. Sigurd, Surtr, and Napoleon all embody certain otome game love interest archetypes. Sigurd is the cold, composed, intellectual man who is actually earnest, just, affectionate, and wise. Surtr is the dark-hearted troubled man with fiery disposition struggling with expressing love. Napoleon is the strong, confident, borderline pixie manic dream boy with almost zero brains but plenty of empathy and... *ahem*, physique to make up for his seeming lack of tact and intelligence (he’s a himbo is what I’m saying but that comes as no surprise). The problems arise with Napoleon himself, however. Napoleon hounds Ophelia with marriage proposals she refuses time and time and again. When he proposes to her in front of Chaldea for the first time, the narrative has Mash take Napoleon’s side and urges you to do the same because Sakurai believed the reader would’ve caught on to what’s actually going on between Ophelia and Napoleon. 

The issue here is that Sakurai’s clues up to that point had been far too hidden for the player to make a proper connection, and it’s not until AFTER the proposal that the player discovers Napoleon is predisposed to fall in love with whoever summons him because that’s what Ophelia wanted out of an ideal Servant. Because of the poor execution in presenting all these factors that completely recontextualize the relationship between Napoleon and Ophelia, when Sakurai has Napoleon say “You did not reject me therefore you DID agree,” we jump to the conclusion that Napoleon is engaging in extremely reprehensible behavior and ideology reminiscent of dangerous and abusive men IRL rather than take it as harmless flirtation from a well-meaning oaf of a man as he tries to break the shell of his beloved. Sakurai invokes a very dangerous trope that does more to excuse misogynistic behavior when done incorrectly rather than successfully appear as a romantic gesture of attempting to liberate a loved one from the clutches of isolation and victimhood.

On a larger scale, the application of these tropes is where Lostbelt 2 starts to suffer, and that’s where Sakurai’s writing further begins to resemble Minase’s. Sakurai spent so much time building these interpersonal dynamics that she spent the least amount of effort actually building upon the situation of the Lostbelt and Scathach-Skadi’s character and motivations for keeping the Scandinavia the way it is. 

Upon scrutiny, it’s not very difficult to pick apart the setting and make a mark out of the glaring logistical inconsistencies of maintaining a population of only 10,000 humans for a span of 3,000 years by having them reproduce at 15 years old at the latest to execute them at 25. Anyone with a passing understanding of biology would know that forcing children to carry babies to term can lead to terrible health and psychological complications that would certainly end up in a lot more miscarriages, stillbirths, and failed attempts at impregnation than actual successful births. The problem here then is rather evident. Sakurai wanted to use the fact that all these children are young, innocent, naive, gullible, and ignorant to draw a connection to Ophelia’s own psychological and emotional circumstance. However, she realized that because she was writing a setting that obligated her to work around a 3000-year gap between Ragnarok and the present day. She needed something that would compromise the need for a realistic system that would ensure the reproductive viability of a human population through such a long period of time and the thematic vehicle of childhood and repression of growth as a way to connect Ophelia to her environment. This compromise ended up working for the absolute worse because she chose the worst possible system she was aware was the worst possible system she could’ve come up with and therefore decided to forsake that part of the plot without going through the implications of it and leaving the specifics to the reader’s imagination so they could sort it out in her stead.

This unwillingness to properly explore the problematic implications of Scathach-Skadi’s system not only deprived the player of a possible engaging storyline where child endangerment, a common theme in the Nasuverse, is explored and criticized through a different angle, but also actively hurts Scathach-Skadi’s connection to the player because we never get the opportunity to debate with her about her ideology and the state of the Lostbelt. We never hold her accountable for enforcing such a brutally predatory and dehumanizing system that targets children, instead Sakurai opts to build her up as a flawed, self-absorbed mother figure desperately trying to combat the extinction of the remnant of her world who also never really learned how to deal with the revelation there is an entire life she did not get to have in this universe that we MUST sympathize because she occasionally sees through the characters and acts kind towards them until the time comes for us to fight her in earnest as a matter of principle completely divorced from the question of how she’s managed her Lostbelt. The fact Scathach-Skadi’s model of sustainability does not work is made obvious by the fact it takes place in a Lostbelt, what we are trying to get at here is that it does not work from a writing standpoint because of all the different holes you can poke on it before you’ve punched through the paper screen entirely and revealed the superfluousness of it all. 

There is nothing inherently bad about self-indulgent storylines. If I’m being honest, if Sakurai wanted to use Ophelia and Musashi as self-inserts to fantasize about romancing the different kinds of characters she finds attractive, more power to her. But the problem surrounding Lostbelt 2, which is the same problem that plagued Septem and Fate/Extella, is a veritable lack of restraint from her part as a professional writer in charge of a multi-billion dollar mobile game. What the writing room over at Type-Moon has to realize is that they are no longer a small doujin writing circle that can get away with whatever they want because they operate under obscurity. They are visible to the entire world and will be held accountable and criticized as professionals by consumers and their peers in the industry. A little bit of self-fulfillment in a published work never hurt anyone, you can cater to yourself most of all with your professional work (I mean, just look at She-Ra), but you must be sure that in your pursuit of indulgence your work does not suffer for it and ends up alienating and disappointing your fanbase and giving them the wrong impression of what you stand for. 

Anyway we’re popping the biggest bottles when GudaMoth becomes canon this December. 

[josefavomjaaga]

A bit of a misunderstanding

Briefly (okay, not really) back to family trouble and that truely complicated almost-father-son-relationship between Napoleon and Eugène. In mid-February, as related earlier, Napoleon had had Josephine write to Eugène in order to repeat to him an order to evacuate Italy. This had wounded Eugène deeply as he – probably rightfully – saw this as distrust from Napoleon's side. Distrust in Eugène’s loyalty; apparently, Napoleon had felt the need to bring Josephine into this, in order to give Eugène sufficient motivation to remain in Napoleon’s camp.

And, as has also been said, Napoleon in truth had ample reason to question where Eugéne really stood in this struggle. From his private correspondence it becomes pretty clear that Eugène’s only hope for the empire to continue lay in Napoleon making peace, not in him winning. Eugène refused to go along with the plan to evacuate Italy (even if for good reasons), he had never completely given up his correspondence with the enemy (i.e., with his family in Bavaria), he continued to negotiate with Murat (in a way Napoleon could not directly oversee), and he had on several occasions even contacted his Austrian opponent Bellegarde, both on business (armistice) and in private matters: about his family.

The one thing Eugène truely worried about was the fate of his wife and children. He had four kids at the time (three daughters and one son), and Auguste was due to have her next child in mid-April. Eugène was mortified at the idea that Auguste might fall into the hands of enemy troops (or possibly of rioting Italians?) without him being able to come to her aid. (Maybe that’s his childhood memories resurfacing. He had grown up during a revolution, after all; he had lost a father on the scaffold.) In order to make sure nothing would happen to her, Eugène had contacted Bellegarde early on, and Bellegarde not only gave all sort of promises for Auguste’s safety and liberty, but even contacted his emperor. Who actually sent the following note:

Emperor Franz of Austria to the Vice Queen. Troyes, February 18, 1814:

Madam my cousin, Marshal Bellegarde having reported to me the determination of Your Imperial Highness to fix her stay momentarily at the castle of Monza, I pray her to be convinced that this general has perfectly fulfilled my intentions by anticipating all that can be pleasant to Your Imperial Highness. I have just ordered that a guard of honour be formed for your suite: your suite will in any case enjoy the most complete freedom, and I can only regret the reasons which force you, Madame, to a decision which would flatter me in all other respects. I beg you, Madame to accept the assurances of the very distinguished consideration with which I am, Madame my cousin, of Your Imperial Highness, the good cousin,

François.

This letter would reach Eugène and Auguste on March 2. On a sidenote: How all these good cousins and other relatives managed to write all these polite letters while having people fire at their recipients is beyond me. - Anyway, this is the letter Eugène asked Auguste to tell her father about in order to calm Max Joseph’s fluttering nerves.

It should also be pretty clear that this sort of amicable conversation between enemies was not what Napoleon had in mind when it came to defending the borders of his empire. And so, right after having sent off his own letter to Napoleon, defending himself about not evacuating Italy, Eugène received yet another missive from his imperial step-father.

Napoleon to Eugène. Château de Surville close to Montereau. February 19, 1814 My son, the vice queen must immediately go to Paris for her delivery; my intention being that under no circumstances she should remain in a country occupied by the enemy: therefore, make her leave immediately. [...]

This is when for Auguste and Eugène the proverbial shit really hit the fan. What could this be, other than Napoleon’s reaction to Eugène’s disobedience? Napoleon was basically taking Auguste hostage, in order to make sure Eugène would remain loyal to him!

On top of that, Auguste was already approaching the last five weeks of her pregancy, and as she had suffered of bad health after giving childbirth before, she had really not planned on travelling in her state, particularly not on winter roads. But that was not really what infuriated her. She had already been angry about Napoleon before, about the divorce, for him having stripped Eugène of his right to the crown of Italy, and especially for the reproaches regarding the evacuation of Italy. The way Auguste saw it, Eugène was always there, always Napoleon’s last resort, was always called in to clean up other people’s mess, and never did he get any reward for his efforts. In an earlier letter to Eugène she had already written:

I am appalled, my dear Eugène, and I am no longer surprised that the Emperor is abandoned. Is it possible to be more ungrateful than this man is? You who sacrifice everything for him, who have done wonders, to receive reproaches as a reward! No, my friend, I did not expect this last blow which crushes me, I feel all that you must feel at this moment, I am disgusted with this world and with men; it is clear, the family of the Emperor, and perhaps the Emperor himself, is jealous of you, they would like to see you make mistakes. The King of Naples will be forgiven his treason, but they will never forgive you for the reputation and esteem you enjoy. [...]

And now Napoleon ordered her to Paris. Under a pretext, obviously – after all, France was just as menaced by enemies as Italy! The Allied armies were closing in on Paris already. This really was too much!

Eugène’s own reply was still somewhat toned down, stating basically »Okay. I’ll tell her. She won’t like it. And I really don’t know what I have done to deserve this.« However, Auguste this time took to the plume as well.

Auguste to Napoleon. Milan, February 27, 1814.

Sire, Eugène has just communicated to me the order given to him by Your Majesty: it surprised me greatly, for I did not expect that after all the proofs of attachment Eugène never ceases to give you, you would also demand of him to risk the health and even the life of his wife and children, the only asset and consolation he has in this world. If he does not speak on this occasion, it is for me to do so. Without doubt I know his and my duties towards Your Majesty. We have demonstrated this to you often enough, and we have never failed to do so; our conduct is known to all; we do not resort to intrigue, and we have no other guides than honour and virtue. It is a sad fact that our reward has been nothing but sorrow and mortification, which we have borne in silence and with patience. Although we have done no harm to anyone, we have enemies, I cannot doubt it, who seek to harm us in your Majesty's mind; for, if you would open your heart, you would not treat us as you do.

What have I done to deserve such a harsh order of departure? When I got married, I never thought that things would come to this.

My father, the king, who loves me dearly, had offered to take me in when things were going so badly, so that I might be able to give birth in peace. But I refused, fearing that this step would cast doubt on Eugène's conduct, although his actions spoke for him, and I intended to go to France. I have since been ill, and the doctors told me that I would be risking a great deal if I made such a long journey at this time, being already in the eighth month of my pregnancy, and so I decided to retire to Monza, if Eugène was forced to leave Italy, believing that Your Majesty could not find it bad; but I see that you no longer take any interest in what may happen to me, which grieves me deeply.

In spite of this I will obey your orders, I will leave Milan if the enemies should come here; but my duty, my heart, makes it a law not to leave my husband, and, since you demand that I risk my health, I want at least to have the consolation of ending my days in the arms of the one who possesses all my tenderness and who makes all my happiness.

Whatever his fate will be, I will share it, and it will always be worthy of envy, since we will be able to say to each other that we have deserved a happier one, and that we will have a conscience without reproach.

In spite of the sorrows which Your Majesty is causing us, I shall never cease to rejoice in His happiness, and to wish for that of the Empress.

However, this time, they probably really did Napoleon an injustice. He, but also Josephine and Hortense had talked about Auguste coming to Paris for the birth of her child on several occasions before (apparently, all French ladies were convinced that life outside of Paris was unliveable). And Napoleon never made much words about personal matters. (This at least Eugène could have known – Eugène’s invitation to his own wedding had basically read: »Be here! Yesterday, if possible!«) Napoleon indeed answered Auguste very politely:

Napoleon to Auguste. Soissons, March 12, 1814.

My daughter, I received your letter; as I know the sensibility of your heart and vivacity of your mind, I am not surprised by the way in which you have been struck. I thought that, with your disposition, you would have a bad time in a war zone and among enemies, and that the best thing to do for your safety was to come to Paris. I did not tell you this earlier, because Paris was then in danger, and I saw nothing to gain by placing you in the midst of the alarms of Paris instead of those of Milan. But, as soon as the danger of Paris was over, I thought that this journey had all sorts of advantages for your state. Acknowledge your injustice, and it is your heart that I hold responsible for punishing you.

It was – who else - Eugène at the receiving end of the imperial wrath:

Napoleon to Eugène. Soissons, March 12, 1814. My son, I have received a letter from you and one from the vice queen, both of which are extravagant! You must be out of your mind. It is by reason of human dignity that I wished the vice queen to come to Paris to give birth, and I know she is too delicate to find herself in this state among the Austrians. At the request of Queen Hortense, I could have written to you earlier, but then Paris was threatened. From the time when that city is free, there would be nothing simpler today than to come and give birth in the midst of one's family and in the place where there is the least cause for concern. You must be mad to suppose that this has anything to do with politics. I never change my style or my tone, and I have written to you as I have always written to you. It is unfortunate for the century in which we live that your reply to the King of Bavaria has earned you the esteem of the whole of Europe; as for me, I have not paid you a compliment because you have only done your duty and that is a simple thing. However, you have already been rewarded for it, even in the opinion of the enemy, whose contempt for your neighbour is in the highest degree. I am writing you a letter in figures to let you know my intentions.

»What’s up with you two? You gone both totally bonkers now? All I said was: come to Paris!«

This was basically the last »family« interaction between Napoleon and Eugène. At least for quite some time. After Napoleon’s abdication, Eugène did try to contact Napoleon, before and after Josephine’s death. There are three letters from that time, none of which seem to have reached Elba. As for later communications, during the Hundred Days and on Saint Helena, I know there was some, but this seems to have been almost completely about financial issues, at least from Napoleon’s side.