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[temusuitcase]

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[crush-like-that]

where are those "what are you wearing and is it representative of your style" posts when i need em

[troublesomesnitch]

Meeting Vhagar - Drabble

Aemond x Wife!Reader

Much to your dismay, Prince Aemond insists on bringing your little son to Vhagar. Set sometime during the Dance.

Contents: Just a little practice thing... Dad!Aemond, Targaryen parenting, subtle fluff. Little bit of subtle angst too. No filth this time..

Words: 3000, and very sloppily proof read.

The carriage can only take you so far as to the Iron Gate. 

Beyond its massive doors, the Rosby Road winds North, poorly maintained and full of potholes, as it is the shortest of the main roads, and thus the least important. It is not as busy as others, and the gate is not guarded as well - clearly, as the men who should be protecting it are presently engaged in a game of cards, laid out on top of a large, flat rock.

That is where the driver will wait, but it is not your destination. 

There is another little trail. One that runs in the opposite direction, scarcely used and partially hidden, visible only to those who know it. No horse or wagon can make the journey, and there is no option but to walk - first along a narrow, trodden path, and then further still, down treacherous steps, carved into the very rock the city rests upon. Past the watchtower, and across the Northern beach, to the vast caves of Maegor the Cruel, where Vhagar has made her nest.

You walk alone, just the two of you. The prince in his coat and boots, and yourself in attire much less suited for the occasion. Fine shoes, fine skirts, and with your little son cradled in your arms. 

The gentle rocking of the carriage has lulled him to sleep. Four months old, he is, and a source of such joy that your poor heart can scarcely contain it. From his first high-pitched cry when you brought him into the world - oh, the pains of labour were all but forgotten, as was the threat of the raging war. And when the prince came to see his son, you could hardly even bear to let him hold him. 

He wanted to bring the boy much sooner, but both you and the dowager queen staunchly put your foot down against that. Children should not be brought outside the home until they have at least lived through the first perilous weeks, and possibly even their first fever. And even then, most would argue, they have no business being around ferocious animals. 

“I don’t like it,” you say, for the umpteenth time, taking the hand offered to you by the prince to help you cross a treacherous stretch. “It is mad, bringing an infant to such a beast - ” 

“Vhagar should know him,” he says, steadfast and determined. As he has done whenever you voiced your concern. 

It does nothing at all to calm your nerves. But it is his most compelling argument, and the only reason you have allowed this lunacy in the first place. So the dragon would recognise the boy as his, and as one of her own. So she would know to protect him, if - something should happen. 

You make it halfway across the pebbled beach before the prince pauses. And you do too, lifting your gaze to follow his line of sight; see what he is looking at. 

An enormous, greyish mass, some yards away, that at first you thought was a moss-grown rock, or years of washed up seaweed. But the mass makes a rumbling noise and begins to shift and lift itself, slowly and carefully, as though with much effort. Part of it becomes a leg, another part unfurls into a great wing, and the rock nearest to you becomes a head, with a mouth full of jagged teeth, and two eyes opening slowly. Amber in colour, and with slitted pupils staring straight at you. 

“She can sense me,” the prince declares, with no small amount of pride, lifting his chin and straightening his back. 

You, however, are paralysed, utterly shocked by her vastness. You have never seen Vhagar this close before, and though you knew of her impressive size, it is one thing to see her soaring across the sky, and quite another to be right next to her, unprotected and vulnerable.

It seems to you that the span of her wings could cover half the city, that entire buildings could fit in her mouth. And certainly, she could end all three of you with her fiery breath, or with a single swipe of her claw or her massive tail. One wrong move, even if accidental, even if she did not mean to - you would all be dead. 

“Come,” the prince says, pushing at the small of your back. But you stall, digging in your heels, frozen in place at the sight of her. 

“I’ve changed my mind,” you stammer. “We should go back - it is not safe…”

The prince gives an overbearing, if somewhat irritated sigh. 

“Dragons are loyal beasts,” he reassures. “Vhagar is loyal to me, she obeys me - ”

“She is a beast,” you hiss, hugging your drowsy son closer to your chest. “She cannot be trusted. It is too dangerous - I won’t let you bring him any closer - ”

Prince Aemond does not like to be challenged. He turns around to look at you coolly, his voice low and scornful as he speaks. 

“Is your opinion of me so unfavourable, wife, that you think I would risk harm to my own son?”

“No,” you respond, quietly, but truthfully. Since you were married, your opinion of the prince has only risen, slowly but surely. And it continues to do so, still - though perhaps not right now. “I don’t like it - ”

“Mhm - so you said,” your husband says dryly, all but wrenching the swaddled boy from your arms. 

He does not complain, the boy. Prince Aemond comes to visit often, at least once a day, and sometimes more. He sits with the child, reads to him, lets him fall asleep in his arms - not for very long each time, but it is at least enough for the little boy to recognise his father’s low voice and stern face as something safe and comfortable. As is evident from the way he now settles against the prince’s leather-clad chest, tangling his little fist into a lock of his hair. 

The beast remains still, pensive as her rider approaches, her serpent’s eyes fixed on the thing in his arms, on what he is bringing her. Your most precious treasure, your life’s very purpose, completely at the mercy of the greatest dragon in the world. 

You might have felt more at ease if the soft, sparse hair on his head had been silver like his father’s, but alas, it is not. It is exactly like yours, and only the bright violet of his eyes gives away his true inheritance. 

And that seems like too little a thing for such a large creature to notice. 

Prince Aemond calls out in that strange language of his, with the open vowels and the rolling R’s. It is beautiful, especially in his mouth, and the dragon responds at once, contorting herself to let him touch her wrinkled neck with affection. Which is a strange sight, but what is even stranger is the way she grumbles - as though she likes it. He speaks to her as if she was another person, in long, full sentences that are much too complicated for you to even attempt to understand. There is only one word you can make out, for the sole reason that he says it twice - yoreliatzeh, or yorelatzya, or something akin to that. You haven’t a clue as to what it means. 

Vhagar snorts once, and the prince steps back to give her room to move, to rise up onto her legs and bring her head closer, her nose almost touching his hip. While you stand at a distance, staring at the utterly bizarre scene playing out in front of you. A fearsome, vicious beast, sniffing the child like a dog would. Gently and carefully, only she is so big that each of her cautious breaths is like a small gust of wind, making your husband’s hair billow about his face. When she makes a grunting noise, he carefully unwraps some of the swaddlings, holding the child up to let her see him better, smell him better. 

He is bright, your darling boy, and curious, like all babes and children. His eyes are wide as they take in Vhagar’s scaly form, and he gives a soft squeal of surprise or wonder, kicking his little feet under the blankets. Reaching his arm towards the beast's massive head, her massive teeth -

“Aemond, please - ” you gasp, clutching your hands to your throat. 

The prince turns his head to give you a stern look, one that clearly shows he is running out of patience. And maybe this time it is justified, because your fearful outburst startles the boy, who begins to squirm unhappily in his father’s arms. Fussing and whimpering; a sound that is as painful to you as salt to an open wound. 

“Bring him to me,” you plead, “can’t you see that he is frightened - ” 

“He is frightened because you are frightened,” the prince says, as soft spoken as always, but with a hint of something sharp underneath.

He cradles the boy closer to his chest, bouncing him gently, holding his head and murmuring soothing words. Exactly as you would do, and to the same effect. It calms him down, and his big, round eyes start darting around again, taking in his surroundings. The dragon, the grey sea, the fine silver clasps on his father’s clothes. It does seem that the latter intrigues him the most. 

Vhagar lifts her neck and tilts her head just slightly, seemingly very interested in the child, in this tiny little creature; the way he moves his little limbs, and his soft coos and noises. There is an almost… thoughtful look in her eyes, or at the very least a curious one. 

It makes you wonder about the extent of her perception. Whether she truly knows that this is Aemond’s child, that it came from him, from his body, his flesh. If she can sense it somehow, through the bond they purportedly share, or if she understood it when he spoke to her. 

How intelligent is a dragon? Are they like dogs or horses, able to learn the meaning of certain words, but not the full breadth of language? Or do they think as people, with nuance and emotion, and a mind as vivid as your own. 

You do not know. You suppose no one really does. 

“Come,” the prince calls, reaching his arm towards you, beckoning you closer. However, a single glance at Vhagar, whose mighty gaze is now focused on you, is enough to inspire disobedience in even the most well-behaved wife.

“I would really rather not - ”

“She must know the both of you,” he insists. 

“Is that - necessary?” you squirm, wringing your hands, very much aware that you are not a dragon rider, that you haven’t a drop of Valyrian blood. “Vhagar has no reason to think fondly of me…”

The prince scoffs. 

“Are you not the mother of my child?” he says. “Now, come.” 

You must go to him. He is your lord husband, and he is a prince, and such is the way of things. But you are not at all glad to, and you walk with shaky, reluctant steps, gripping onto his elbow and cowering behind him like a frightened child. 

You close your eyes when the dragon lowers her head once more, bringing it towards you. A sudden, low-pitched growl makes your heart tremble, but the prince speaks a soft command. Lykirī, Vhagar. Lykirī.

It has a calming effect on you too. As does the arm he keeps outstretched in front of you - solely for your comfort, you assume, as it would make no difference whatsoever, should Vhagar decide that she does not like you. But you appreciate the gesture nonetheless.

The air is warm, this close to her, and your skirts move around your legs when she breathes, slowly and deeply, while the prince speaks to her in soft tones. That word again, the one from before, and many others. You know the words for wife, for king, for father, brother, sister, even for dragon, but he says none of those now, so you have no guess as to what he is telling her. Or if she understands. Or what he would call you, if not his wife. 

This woman is my - spouse? lady? lover?

You do have a kind of love for him, and sometimes you think he does for you, too. Sometimes. One can never be sure of anything with the prince, who keeps himself so closely guarded. Even after more than a year of marriage. Even now that you have given him a child. 

The birth went mercifully well, but your recovery was long, and he has only recently begun to come to your bed again. And so far, only a handful of times. The first time, it was so painful for you that the act could not be completed, and the second time, he finished so quickly that it barely even counts. The third was better. Pleasurable for both of you, but still strange after going so long without it - at least for you. It is both likely and possible that the prince satisfied his urges elsewhere while your body was indisposed. You do not know. Nor do you wish to. 

The ground shifts beneath your feet, and the heat around you lessens, as does the heavy smell of burned flesh and brimstone, the very same one that so often clings to your husband’s clothes. When you open your eyes it is to the sight of Vhagar, settled onto her belly, her head laid atop her claws. Calm and docile, and with a deep rumble coming from her chest - one that is probably a sign of contentment, even if it sounds utterly terrifying. 

“Touch her,” the prince commands, giving a gentle push to your back. “You have nothing to fear, touch her.” 

It is quite clear that Vhagar is unruffled by your presence, that she is resting. But with her eyes heavy and half-closed, it makes her look so menacing, so evil - even though you know that evil does not exist inherently in any beast. Only in those who train it. 

You draw in a steadying breath, gathering up your courage, reaching your hand out - only to then think better of it and let it fall. 

“I am afraid to,” you whisper.

The prince sighs. But his hand closes gently around yours, bringing it to rest on the side of her nose, first the tips of your fingers, and then your whole palm. 

It is like nothing else you have ever felt, her scales. You always imagined that a dragon’s skin would feel like leather, but Vhagar’s skin is so much tougher, so much rougher, like running your hand over little rocks. And she is warm - so warm, as though a fire is always burning somewhere in her throat. 

She does not object at all to your touch, even when the prince withdraws his own hand, leaving only yours. Only you and Vhagar. The largest, oldest being in the world. 

To think, the things she has seen. The conquest, the Dornish Wars, the very founding of the realm of the Seven Kingdoms. Dozens of castles have crumbled in her fire, and thousands of people have perished, and she has fought and won hundreds of battles; torn through stone, rock and earth as though it was boiled jelly. 

It is at once terrifying and romantic, like something from a fairytale, or stories of ancient times. A creature of such myth and legend that you almost feel as though you should bow down to her, as one does before a great matriarch.

Vhagar the Conqueror. Queen of all Dragons. 

She closes her eyes when you draw back. 

“He might ride her too, some day,” the prince says quietly. Wistfully. 

“But dragons only have one rider - ” you protest, cutting yourself off when you realise what he meant. What he left unsaid. 

This is war. The realm is at war. Death is everywhere; at the end of a blade, in the point of an arrow. And if not on the field of battle, then in tainted water or plague-ridden camps; empty bellies or festering wounds.

“You shouldn’t say such things,” you mutter, looking down at your feet. Your dirtied shoes. 

The prince does not answer. A heavy mood has settled over the rocky beach, something vast and bleak and empty, only compounded by the surroundings. The colourless sky, the sombre crashing of waves. Even Vhagar gives a doleful sigh, as though she too is weary of what is to come.

She has been the prince’s companion since childhood. He was born to the queen, but Vhagar made him what he is, made him ruthless, made him brutally ambitious. Made him Aemond One-Eye, Aemond the Kinslayer. Prince Regent, Protector of the Realm. She has known him boy and man, as well as any, and better than most. She has known him in life, and she may yet know him in death.

You push that thought away as forcefully as your mind allows. You shouldn’t think such things. 

A coo from your son breaks the tension, and his eyes turn to the sky, where a large heron is flapping its wings. The afternoon is turning to evening, and soon the bell will ring for supper - something warm and comforting, you hope. You are cold, your breasts feel sore, and you have most certainly had enough excitement for one day. For several days, in fact.

“Can we go, please,” you breathe, looking up at your husband with wide, pleading eyes. 

“She is tired,” he says, with a soft glance at Vhagar’s terrifying face, and a gentle touch to her side. “Yes, we should.”

—

You walk slower on the way back. Uphill, with sore feet, and your boy now fast asleep in your arms. Safe and snug where he belongs. 

“My Prince,” you begin, sweet and innocent. “What does… yoreliatzeh mean?”

There is a sly little smile on his face when you look at him, a self-assured look in his remaining eye.

“Jorrāeliarza,” he corrects, with an artful pause before he continues. As though to keep you in suspense. “It means dear. Or… beloved.”

If he sees the sudden blush on your face, he does not let on. 

“Jorālitzeh.”

“No,” he says. “Jor-rāe-liar-za.”

“Jor-rāe-liar-za,” you repeat, trying your very best to mimic the exact movements of his mouth, the way he gently rolls his tongue. “Jorrāeliarza.”

“Better,” he nods, and then you round a corner, just in time to see the guards hastily hide their cards away, and the driver shuffling back towards the carriage, eagerly shoving his winnings into a pocket. 

Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. Jorrāeliarza. 

Dear. Beloved. 

You like that very much.  

Please feel free to come into my asks or DMs with critique of my fics! Constructive is preferred, but not required.

Tags. @arcielee, @targaryen-madness, @aemondsbabygirl, @qyburnsghost, @blackswxnn

I am a mess with the tagging, I'm so sorry if I forgot or wrongly tagged anyone. Let me know, I will fix it.

[birkenstockindia]

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[endorex-official]

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[insomniac-arrest]

People are calling Ken a trophy husband but forget he has a LOW volume of clothes and nice shoes. Clothes he has to share with 2-7 other men (and Allen). Barbie is not buying that Guy a 20-Carat diamond ring or convertible sports car to keep him around.

Not a kept man, but a couch surfer that is able to bum rides to the beach (affectionate) bc he’s got good vibes and no job and is polite to Barbie’s 20 other female friends and Midge

[shoesparadise]

[osamucide]

WHAT THEIR LOVE FEELS LIKE . . .

. . . ft. BSD men

⊹ ATSUSHI NAKAJIMA . . . freshly steamed rice, sherpa blankets, the moon in the sky during the day, well-loved dirt paths, comfortable sweatpants, clean kitchens, perfectly made lemonade, finding a dollar in your pocket, gentle cat paws, scratching a lover's back.

⊹ OSAMU DAZAI . . . used books with vigilant annotations in them, jazz music, charm bracelets, quiet and steady streams, lined leather journals, light rain, flickering flourescent light, cracking the spine of a new novel, knowing looks, linking pinkies while walking, caramel drizzle.

⊹ CHUUYA NAKAHARA . . . boozy chocolate-covered cherries, leather car interior, red sangria, gold jewelry, peeled clementines, extinguished matches, the peaceful room next door to a party, counting a lover's freckles, cupping your hands around a flame, divine geometry.

⊹ AKUTAGAWA RYUUNOSUKE . . . star anise, black lace, fig jam, perfect puddles of rainwater, vanilla ice cream, soft distant thunder, silver jewelry, blackberry-stained lips and fingertips, tracing sweet words into a lover's palm, the moment of silence and peace when you pass beneath a bridge while it rains.

⊹ RANPO EDOGAWA . . . shortbread cookies, wool socks, poppies, stray eyelashes, strawberry jam, argyle and pastels, candied fruit, chess matches, foil-wrapped chocolates with sweet sayings inside, when a dog at a party likes you best, collections of old keys, shooting stars.

⊹ DOPPO KUNIKIDA . . . peonies, perfectly pulled shots of espresso, letters with broken wax seals, comfortable routines, toffee and brown sugar, freshly ironed clothes, finding something that's been lost, completed to-do lists, cats sleeping atop stacks of books.

⊹ YUKICHI FUKUZAWA . . . photo albums hidden in plain sight, flickering candles, the breeze on a cloudy beach, stars on a clear night, perfectly steeped tea, crackling fireplaces, a safety net, clean sheets and pillowcases, crisp mountain air, packing a lover's lunch in the morning.

⊹ SAKUNOSUKE ODA . . . steam from a bath, soft and implacable floral scents, typewriter font, concentric tree circles, fallen bird feathers, uplifting newspaper headlines, children's laughter, protective hugs from behind, stratus clouds like blankets over the sky, dreams that make you want to sleep longer.

⊹ ANGO SAKAGUCHI . . . brown italian leather, vintage cameras, subtle gemstone details, warm french bread, fancy bookmarks, polaroids in your wallet, tying a lover's shoes, laughing at everything when you've drank a bit too much, dried rosemary and blood orange and pomegranate.

⊹ FYODOR DOSTOEVSKY . . . frost-covered cranberries, string music, coffee table books on classical art, accidental halos of light, perfectly toasted marshmallows, the crunch of fresh snow beneath your boot, coconut and dark chocolate, a stray cat trusting you to pet it.

⊹ NIKOLAI GOGOL . . . pistachio ice cream, mourning doves on a wire, strands of pearls, opalescence, sitting side by side at a piano, salt water taffy, blowing a perfect bubble with your gum, the television flickering as you sleep, cradling a lover's face, banana pudding trifle.

⊹ SIGMA . . . fresh linen smell, rose gardens, pressed flowers, sleek dress shoes, swan necks in the shape of a heart, satin and silk, bouquets in translucent cellophane, sleeves wide enough to fit someone else's arms in, lace folding fans, white chocolate truffles.

[greedyhoneyz]

Judgement Day

.ೃ࿔* pairing: armando aretas x reader .ೃ࿔* synopsis: the aretas name carried weight in miami. it was a name which symbolised power and carried a notion of fear. to mess with an aretas, was a call to an early death. .ೃ࿔* wc: 3k words. .ೃ࿔* cw: angst. assault. violence. blood. harrassment. threats. .ೃ࿔* authors note: another fanfic for a piece of media i have yet to watch. this is long but i hope it doesn't come off juvenile.

The hot Miami heat bared the warmth of a deep-emotion smile at dawn but as night fell, it raged into an inferno, chaotic and wild. It charred and blistered the abode floor, once chilled by seasonal rains and engulfed the city with a tragic blaze.

Even in the heatwave, Miami bustled with life, men and women toiled across the dancefloor, their bodies weary and scorched beneath yards of thin fabric. They jived and boogied to the setlist with as much passion as their drunken states could emote and drank to their hearts' content. At the end of the night, they busted through the doors into the artificial glow of street lamps, staggering, failing to hail an Uber or move on to the next attraction. In the charcoal night, Miami Beach weaved together crowds of partygoers and workers alike, as the early morning sunshine threatened to peek through the sky.

(name) hissed and hollered her way out of the nightclub as her heels clicked onto the pavement.

She had worn them for the sake of fashion. The open-toed stilettos were to die for; they matched perfectly with her mini dress and petite shoulder bag. But now as she waddled, her feet were paying the price. The four-inch stilettos were not meant for walking, the leather straps dug into her skin and the arch pinned tiny knives into her feet. Each step she took sent a shockwave of pain through her feet.

Adjusting her stride, (name) attempted to distribute her weight more evenly into the shoe. It made little difference but she would make it work– the night was young and she had a couple more hours in her.

Straightening her shoulders, (name) fixed her bag and quickened her pace, walking in conjunction with her friend.

“Where are we going?” She had spoken out between anxious breaths, inwardly wincing at the pressure dented into her toes.

“Um…..” Kayla stared into her phone. “Nightingale, Candace said she’ll meet us there.”

“How far is it?”

“Just a couple blocks down. We’ve been there before, remember?”

“I do,” (name) huffed. “It's just– my feet are killing me. I don’t know how much longer I can take this Kayla. I’m tired.”

Kayla stopped, causing (name) to falter in haste as she slowly turned. She faced her friend, boring her eyes into hers, her lips forming into a hard line. She gripped her friend’s arm, holstering her close and darted her pointer finger to her.

“You,” She began slowly, her voice was low at first but grew louder and more boisterous as she glared into (name). “Are not going anyway, do you understand? Today is our night, our night to go out, get drunk and do something stupid, okay? No shoe and no bitch is ruining our night, comprende?”

“Sí. Sí. I understand.” (name) replied shortly, hiding a smile between her teeth.

“Good.” Kayla nodded, tucking her arm around (name’s).

The pair beelined across the strip, accustoming themselves amongst the crowds of partygoers pulling and pushing their way across South Beach. They found Candace waiting by the entrance, looking radiant in a yellow, mini-dress, her wind-tousled hair fell over her shoulders.

“Hey!” She exclaimed, giving them each a hug. “I’m so glad you’re here.”

The bouncer let them in without hesitation, ushering the trio past the long, ascending line trickling across the street, and they made their way towards the bar. The music blared and pulsated from wall to wall and the stage lights flared and spun above them.

“So….where’s this boyfriend of yours at?” Candace asked inquisitively, sipping on her margarita. She wriggled her eyebrows playfully and passed a simple glance at (name’s) phone as she placed it on the bar, a picture of her boyfriend printed on her lock screen.

“Somewhere,” (name) shrugged. “He wasn’t home when I left for Kayla’s place.”

“So you snuck out?” Kayla jeered, propping her chin atop her hand. “You never told me that.”

(name) shook her head. “Nah, it's nothing like that–”

“Wait— this means you can stay out!” Candace bellowed happily.

“Of course I can–”

“No more talking, let’s dance!”

Candace shot up from her seat, slamming her drink on the bar counter, and reigned her hands around Kayla and (name). She wrung them out from their seats with the strength of a colossal giant and tugged the two towards the dancefloor, declaring the two move to the rhythm of the song.

It took a while – a couple of short seconds before Kayla and (name) joined Candace in dance. The three danced in conjunction with each other, keeping close to their circle with a light bounce from side to side and trigger fingers.

As the night wore on, the air grew thicker and (name) and her friends were tipsier. The club music had grown louder and more intense as the DJ turned to play Sexyy Red and the crowd had begun to surge forward in retort to the sharp change in tempo and pitch. The crowd was like a tide, rolling in and out, its rhythm intermittent to the beat.

No more did the throbbing of her feet cloud (name’s) mind; the blend of a rhubarb fizz and vitality was a deterrent. With her closest friends surrounding her, (name) felt at ease, her smile so wide and bright, that she feared it would become permanent.

She rocked her hips, her hands travelling across her thighs and slowly craned forward. She held onto her legs, shaking her thighs as motion rippled across her calves and ascended towards her ass. (name) shook her bottom with a smize, moving her cheeks with such fluid, curvaceous motions it left nothing to disguise that the skirt of her dress began to hike. Undaunted, she continued to move, placing a careful hand between her cheeks as the other tugged her dress down.

So young and so free, (name) craned herself upwards and placed her hands against her chest. She bopped from side to side, twirling her hips gingerly and scored her hands across her breasts and middle. She looked heavenward at the ceiling, the club roof clouded by bright, neon lights and flashes, she squeezed her eyes shut in retort. She dropped her head and opened her eyes, bouncing on the balls of her feet before letting out a raring shrill.

The night flew by in a blur of music, laughter and good company. And by 2 am, the club slowed and the crowd began to disperse. Exhausted but exhilarated, they left the club and amidst themselves between the sea of bodies flooding out from the club.

Letting out a refreshed sigh, (name) turned to her friends. Her hair was dampened, her hot-rod curls once full of life and shine, had dropped, now frizzy and weightless. The fabric of her dress had clung to her sticky skin and her bag was hung at the edge of her shoulder.

“I’m so lit right now,” she moaned, closing her eyes. She wobbled on her two feet, swaying from side to side, pressing her weight onto one shoe and when she threatened to stumble to the side, hauling her weight onto the other.

“Me too,” Kayla replied, stumbling over Candace. She clung onto the woman, grasping onto her dress and pressed herself against the wall.

“I….I think–” Candace couldn't help but giggle to herself, dropping her head.

(name) smacked her lips, her eyes slowly peeling open and peered at the two women. She swallowed deeply, curling her lips in practice before she spoke. “You girls….wanna head off to Oasis?”

“Yeah.”

Both Kayla and Candace hummed in agreement and staggered to height. They adjusted themselves, sheepishly picking at each other, one fixing the other’s hair and the other fixing her dress as (name) collected her belongings into her bag.

“Aye!” A voice began. It was deep and hoarse, breathy as his mouth approached a few more words. “Aye miss!”

Though inebriated, (name) couldn’t mask her quickening discomfort as his heavy footsteps rattled behind her.

She tensed, hiking her shoulders and carefully turned. She wore a tight smile on her face, a mask of politeness.

“Yes?”

The man was tall, handsome, and smelt good. And yet, he failed to strike (name). As she stood before him, swaying from left to right, he grinned, bewitched by her charming features and supple figure.

He smiled at her, his eyes never leaving hers. “I just wanted to tell you that you looked good.”

(name) shook her head and waved her hand, feigning appreciation. “Thank you.”

“You know, I was watching you, inside, dancin’ and shit,” He laughed, tossing his head back. “You can shake that ass pretty good.”

“Thank you–”

“And I– lemme get your number.” His words were quick and sharp; his intent was clear.

“Oh,” she tittered, throwing a glance at her friends. “Well…I’m sorry but I’ve got a boyfriend–”

“You’ve got a boyfriend….” He repeated sullenly. He laughed heartily as if (name) had said the funniest thing ever and shook his head.

“Listen,” He began, swiping his tongue across his bottom lip. “I know it doesn’t seem like it, but I promise you I ain’t no weirdo. No bear here.”

Kayla was prompt in grabbing (name’s) hand, making no effort to hide her disgust. She moved from behind her, Candace following in tow, and attempted to pull the girl along. “C’mon (name) let's go.”

Like a colossal giant, both the man and his voice grew towers tall. He gripped (name’s) arm and jerked her back. “Aye, I wasn’t done talkin’!”

(name) yelped, stumbling over her feet and sharply jeered her head at the man. “What the fuck are you doing?!”

“Just give me your number.” He demanded, digging his nails into her skin.

(name) profusely shook her head, quickly sobering up and attempted to pull away. “Let go!”

No more did the nice guy act continue, the man once cheerful and hopeful, sneered at (name), puffing out her chest and flaring his nostrils. He was quick to insult her, hurling a hail of curses aimed at her figure as he fiercely yanked her backwards, swinging her frame towards him.

“Fucking bitch!” He cursed at the top of his lungs, splatters of spit flailing out from his mouth. “You bitches are always too full of yourselves! Wanna act all uppity when a man wants to talk to you!”

“Then fucking let me go! The fuck!” By then, amidst the chaos, a crowd had gathered. Like a mob of meerkats, they gawked, gasped and videoed in disbelief at the rage pelting from the colossal of a man. They watched, uttering words of discomfort and dismay as (name) attempted to rear herself away from the man, thrusting herself against Kayla as she pulled her forward.

“I didn't even want to holler at your ugly ass anyways!” He roared, his voice loud and menacing.

“Oh my fucking god! Let me go! I don’t want to fucking talk to your stupid ass!” (name) shrieked back. Her eyebrows furrowed together and her lips pulled into an irritated scowl.

“Nah you fucking listen to me, bitch!” His voice erupted out from the vessels of his throat like a disgorging volcano, propelling a warcry in the wake of a lava-filled avalanche, in the form of a fist.

In a few short seconds, the colossal revolved free his arm, balling his into a fist and drew it back. He reigned his fists forward, fuelled with fury and humiliation, and swung at (name), striking her in the jaw.

She staggered to her floor with a loud yelp, the contents of her purse pooling across the floor. Both Kayla and Candace circled (name) in protest, pulling into their embrace as the colossal hovered above, jeering.

Candace gasped, her eyes were wide, her mouth agape as she held (name’s) face between her palms. “(name)!” She cried, fretting her fingers across her face. “Are you okay?”

Sore but unharmed, (name) could manage a nod, nursing a hand to her swelling jaw. “I’m…I’m okay.”

Candace shot her head up and leered up at the colossal begrudgingly, shrieking. “What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

Rapidly, she climbed onto her feet, jumping between the colossal and her friend’s dazed figure, and glowering, waving her pointer finger and screeching like a banshee. “Do you like putting your hands on fucking defenceless women?! Huh! Do you think that’s okay?!”

“Aye, shut the fuck up! That bitch got what she fucking deserved—”

The neigh of engines and the screeching of hot tyres hailed across the strip, and the sound had bequeathed a play of silence across the beach.

The once vivacious party strip, nestled with drunk partygoers and deafening music, had quickly shimmered into silence. And all that sounded was the row of heavy footsteps mounting from the street onto the sidewalk. The footsteps marched into the crowd, dispersing the tide and began to section off each corner one by one as the clatter of a single pair of boots trotted forward.

Armando stared at (name), his face firm, and carefully crouched to his knees. It was a while before he spoke, his voice deep and guttural, his eyes boring into hers. “Are you okay?” Slowly, he brought his hands to her face and brushed his thumb against her jaw, the surface of her wound spreading purple with yellow blotches, and when she cowered back his expression darkened.

(name) could only utter a wary whisper, her eyes darting between him and the colossal behind him. “…yes.”

Inhaling deeply, Armando rose to height, hauling his girlfriend up to her feet. He held her hand in his, offering a forgiving glance and turned.

He clambered away from (name), his shoulders taunt and chin heavenward. Armando was angry– enraged. He did a good job of hiding it, but (name) knew the signs.

He wired his neck, rearing it from side to side and heaved slowly, his chest rising and falling. Every muscle on his face tightened, his eyes narrowed, and his chin jutted outward.

He approached the colossal, his arms pinned behind his back and gave him a once-over, sizing him up.

He blinked, parting his lips slowly, and then blinked again. “Do we have a problem?”

The colossal shook his head and feigned a hearty laugh, his pupils flared and mouth twisted. “Nah man, we’re cool–”

“Let me ask you again,” Armando snarled slowly, gritting his teeth together. “Do we have a problem?”

“Listen, man, I can assure you there’s no problem here–”

Armando sucked at the air like it had suddenly become thick and shut his eyes. He’d become deaf to his galling words, his rapid chatter professing a tale of ignorance and regard, a rapid back-tracking to his previously tough stance. And by then, his anger was irreversible.

He lunged at him; pummelling, hitting. Each hit landed with a sickening thud, the blow between skin and fist astounding. The man had swung back, wailing his fists in the air, but succumbed to the force of Armando’s blows. His movements were swift and silent, spectral. The pivot of his feet from place to place was incorporeal. He was impenetrable evading each wild blow before he swung again.

Armando flitted around the man, his movements a blur of speed and precision and winded his knee upwards. It prodded into his middle, driving into his chest, and sent him stumbling backwards, off-balance. His tumble left an opening, a gap between his face and Armando’s revolving leg.

He took the opening, rearing his leg upwards and swung it forward, striking. A rapid combination of punches and kicks followed, each came and landed with more precision and power till the colossal succumbed to near-coming death. He crumbled to the ground, in a grotesque mess of blood. His eyes were swollen over and bloody spit drooled from his slack jaws. He was now as revolting as he should be, finally, the outside reflected the spoiled man within.

Armando stood victorious over the bloody mess that was his adversary and sneered at him with such venom and disdain. He crouched down, his knuckles wounded with welts and stained with blood, not of his own, and grabbed his shirt, his grip like a vice.

He pulled him towards him, his face taut with rage and displeasure, and glowered over him. Under his grip, the man hung like cattle, his limbs astray as blood sputtered from out his mouth.

Armando rubbed his lips, swivelling on the balls of his feet, and gnashed his teeth together, chiding grimly. “You see..” he shook his head, his nostrils flared. “If it wasn’t for her…”

He turned to (name), lugging the man along and pointed. He leaned into his ear, his voice began small as a whisper and bubbled into a rue of senile and ghastly distaste. “…I’d kill you….”

“Consider this a warning–” Armando released his grip, the man flailing back onto the ground, and stood back on his feet. “You fuck with her, you fuck with me.”

He scowled, whipping his hands and leered at the crowd before him. In a stop-start fashion, one by one, the crowd fizzled out in groups of threes, fours, and fives. Song and chatter fizzled back across the strip in small bites and vivid hues flashed across the beach.

Armando turned to (name), his face closed up and extended his arm. He reached for her, placing her hand in his palm and grasped it tenderly. He held her hand to her face and wrapped her wound beneath her hand. He looked at her as her gaze trembled, her shoulders shivering and tugged her towards him. He held her in his arms, his tight embrace swelled around her middle and carefully coaxed (name) away.

Despite the return of vibrance and euphoria flooding across the party strip, an unsettling mist hung over. A monochrome of silver glanced over the black night. There was an uncharacteristically grim line etched across the faces of those among the dispersing crowd, a sense of sadness, remorse, dismay and dread.

Armando Aretas was not to be toyed with— and neither was she.

[kurogxrix]

I think a Bruce and reader meet cute/love at first sight would be cool! Welcome back! I missed your writing ❤️

Away, Away, Away

Bruce Wayne x reader

IN WHICH you accidentally stumble into the one and only Bruce Wayne on your way out of the club for your birthday. To you, it’s a fuzzy conversation with a blurry stranger you can’t even seem to recognize, to Bruce, it’s love at first sight.

WC: 4.3k

Warnings: Reader is shorter than bruce, Bruce lowkey being a perv, mentions of alcohol, reader being drunk, mentions of puke.

Bruce was tired. Exhausted even, if he allowed himself to be the least dramatic. Between being Batman, his hectic relationship with the borderline mentally deranged kids he’d somewhat decided to bring home all these years ago, and his messy on-and-off relationship he had going on with Selina, he was done. 

He wasn’t often seen like this, work attire still clad on his broad figure, muscles so tense and rigid under the restraint of the tight fabric. Walking through the dark streets of Gotham where he could be recognized and nagged at any moment. Though he needed a moment alone, and maybe breathing the damned polluted air of Gotham could do him some good.

Albeit complaining, he didn’t want to be here. He craved the falling residues of black eyeshadow, the tight and suffocating kevlar suit. He craved the violence and vengeance, the freedom and enslavement of being the Bat. Though tonight Alfred had forced him into the sidelines because he had been far too distracted, and he’d be damned if he’d even think of crossing the butler. 

So instead, here he was, Valentino dress shoes clicking against the concrete sidewalk as he envied those children of his that were currently occupying his favourite nightly pastime in his place. Bruce huffed, rolling his blue eyes like a child. All the most billionaire-like behaviour. 

The distant sound of music began resounding in his ears, and as he lifted his head to glance at the direction in which the music came from, the yellowish glow of the overhead sign casted him like an angel caught in the midst of golden hour. Bruce stalled, hands in his pockets as he took in the sight before his very own eyes.

Apparently he had managed to walk his frustrated self all the way to the club, mid city, a whole hour walk away from the mansion. Ever the detective that he was, his sharp eyes fell upon the sight before him. He felt his shoulders stiffen upon the realisation. The sidewalk was bustling with people, and people could only mean nuisance, especially if you were the billionaire playboy that he was. 

There was a crowd by the door. Some people drunk, some people high, and some busted off whatever they could get their grimy hands on. Women in tiny sequin dresses, dainty heels that made them swagger with each drunken movement that they took. Men clad in beach shorts and most likely the first shirt they’d found laying in the back of their unorganised closets. 

Bruce watched as one of the women doubled over, emptying the entire contents of her stomach, lunch, dinner and probably the many drinks that she’s had before even stepping foot inside the club. He scrunched his nose at the unwanted sight, but his stomach didn’t turn, he’d seen far worse as Batman. These little things couldn’t phase him anymore. He averted his eyes as she doubled over for a second round, her short dress rose up her hips even further as her equally drunk friend attempted to sooth her.

Bruce rolled his eyes for what seemed like the 10th time tonight, rolling his eyes at the infuriating human antics asif he was any better himself. He could remember the last time he’d gotten so drunk to drown his never ending sorrows, but he didn’t want to remember, and maybe a sip of some hennessy could help drown those memories, and make new ones that he would regret once more instead. 

Nevertheless, he was ready to leave the site before anyone could catch a glimpse of him and ruin his night furthermore. He turned around, sharp on his heels as he attempted to retrace his route back home, where he could only hope that the butler he considered family would finally agree to release him into the crime-filled alleys that he considered home. 

Although his march was quickly interrupted as he felt a sudden weight crash into his chest, a quick yelp, then the feeling of a small palm connecting with his chest in an attempt to chase stability. He barely flinched at the impact, ever so the man that he was, but the suddenness caused him to halt for a second. Frozen in his steps, eyes wide and that frown of his etched impossibly further onto his face. 

Bruce always wanted to believe he was a humble man, really, but being ranked so far up above the rest of society could only do so much to a person. He scoffed in offence, disbelief written all over his face at the fact that someone had dared to even stumble into the one and only Bruce Wayne. Sure, he felt like a bratty kid soon enough and his eyebrows unfurrowed from their tense position, but he couldn’t help it.

He gave himself a minute to calm down, before taking a few steps back to glance at his assaulter. 

Though the second he glanced down, good lord… 

You were looking at him with those eyes that made his breath hitch, palms sweaty in the blazer pockets that they were currently residing in. He just couldn’t keep his eyes off of you, from the way your lashes were long and dark, layers of mascara coating them as you blinked up at him. Black eyeliner, eyeshadow and whatever else that adorned your face, Bruce wasn’t sure he cared at the moment.

You were beautiful, breathtaking, and soon he had to manually remind himself to take in a huff of fresh air. He remained silent for what felt like hours, taking in the way your hands were still very much planted upon his broad torso. Thick silver hoops were dangling off your ears, reflecting the yellow light coming from the club in a way Bruce believed was comically stunning. Everything about you made his heart rate excell the scale, and soon a frown settled itself back upon his lips, unaware that it had ever left in the first place, as he felt your hands retracting back to you. 

“God these heels are killing me…” you muttered to yourself, and Bruce watched you with amusement. You bent down to fix the strap of the shoe that seemed like it was apparently ‘killing you’, stumbling a few steps back as you allowed yourself the space from whatever you’d just collided with. The thought crossed the billionaire’s mind that you had not even discerned that you had in fact collided into another human's chest, and not whatever inanimate object you believed you had walked into.

“I don’t even know where my friends are…” his interest peaks as you speak again, but when he glances down, you’re still bent in half trying to fix your shoe strap. ‘You’re talking to yourself, unable to even acknowledge that there’s another person standing before you’ he thinks, that’s how drunk you were. 

He was going to huff, really, but before he could disrupt your peace, or at least whatever peace was left, he couldn’t help himself from the way his eyes strayed upon your figure. The way the seam of your long, black backless dress seemed to dip so low felt sinful, and Bruce felt disgusted with the way he allowed himself to glance at you in such a way. The drunk past her mind woman who had just fucking crashed into him. 

He heard murmured curses coming frown below, forcing his eyes to snap back towards your still facing-the-floor face and he cleared his throat, making his presence known. In a split second, you were back up straight, as straight as the alcohol coursing through your veins currently allowed you to, but straight nevertheless. Bruce couldn’t help the tiny grin that lifted upon his lips as he watched you, wild hair from the bend, eyes wide as you stared at him like some mad woman.

Your dress was scrunched in the middle from the position you were previously in, and despite everything, you were still the most beautiful woman that Bruce had ever seen in his entire life. All thoughts of Selina, Talia, Vicki or whichever one of the hundreds of women he’d involved himself with in his years of living, vanished from his head completely. Stuffed at the back of his mind to never be found again, he felt his cold heart beating for you, and it scared him. 

If only you knew that you had managed to spread fear into the one and only Batman’s heart, you’d never believe yourself. Because he didn’t even know you, and yet he burned stronger for you than he’d ever gone with anyone else. 

Suddenly, the sound of a warm giggle enveloped all of his senses, and Bruce felt like he was dying. He’d never felt like this, never even for Selina, the woman he once thought he could leave the Batman life behind for, the woman who’d left him at the altar and broke his heart like she’d done just about every few months. 

“What’re you made of? you feel like a brick wall.” slurring up on your words, you sent him an apologetic smile as you stuttered on your sentences. 

“I just work out a lot.” he responded lamely. Watching as you rolled your eyes playfully at him, clutching onto your purse that looked like it had seen more fights than he had. And that said a lot coming from The Batman. The fake leather material was beginning to peel off, and he had a single thought at the back of his mind.

He wanted to give you a better life, he craved it in fact. A life where you’d get the highest quality purses, endless choices of Birkins, and probably shoes comfortable enough that you wouldn’t feel the need to stumble into every neighbouring stranger in search of stability. 

Talking about stumbling, you seemed like you could barely stand straight for the life of you. He didn’t think twice as he saw you slightly lose balance, reaching a hand out with the help of his Bat reflexes, before you could hit the ground. But that was heavily exaggerated, the worst that could happen would be your purse slipping off your shoulder, but maybe all that Bruce needed was an excuse to have his hands on you.

He felt somewhat disgusting all over again, yet he couldn’t help himself. The skin of your arm felt so smooth under his rough, calloused palm. He could feel the heavenly feeling of your lotion under his palm, and now he definitely felt creep-ish. 

“You can barely even stand straight.” he blurts out and watches as your lips contort into a smile, before that laugh of yours escapes your lips and Bruce feels like flying. Like a real bat. 

“I know, it’s my birthday today and my girls took me out. It didn’t help that we drank just about the amount at the bar at home before coming here..” 

Bruce hums, muttering a small ‘happy birthday’ that he’s pretty sure you haven’t heard. 

He’s blurry to your eyes, just like the rest of the world currently was, but it didn’t escape you that he was covered in an attire that didn’t seem to quite fit the aesthetic of everybody else, especially not clubbing or walking around the city at this time. 

“What are you doing here? You don’t seem just as drunk as any of us, and trust me, in no offence do i say but you look like you’ve just ran away from a business meeting.” you laugh again, and he can’t find it in himself to be offended. He almost chuckles, but he saves it and gives you a tiny grin instead.

“Just needed to get away for a minute.” 

“Trouble in paradise?” you ask, and he shrugs, uninterested in talking about his issues with Selina. She was in the past now, and Bruce knew that he needed to move on, to think about the future. 

For a split second, Bruce believes he’s messed up as he watches your face contort slightly under his words. He mentally cursed himself as he tried to rack his brain to find where he’d messed up. But honestly, he can’t quite understand why he’s putting so much effort into a stranger. 

“I wish I could help you with your wife but I'm not quite sure I'm qualified for this, especially not in this state.” you mumble, shrugging your shoulders like he’d done so just a moment ago.  

Bruce is more than aware of everything at the moment. From the way you try to hide your disappointment, to the way you try to avoid his eyes as you glance down at the floor before you. Hell, he’s not even sure that you’re thinking straight, but he’s hurt at you being hurt, and everything overwhelms him. He’s not used to caring like this, not this fast at least. 

He’d cared this deeply for one woman in his life, and it’d taken them years to get where they were, yet she’d left him standing there all alone like a fool, and Bruce wasn’t sure he could forgive anymore. 

“I’m not married.” He doesn't know why he’s blurred it out so quickly, but something inside of him felt the need to defend himself all of a sudden. He shrugs before continuing. “Things got messy, but I ended it after all.” 

“Sorry for bringing it up,” you can't help but trail off, feeling guilty for making something that seemed to hurt him resurface in the span of your drunken stupidity. 

“Nothing to be sorry for, I actually feel lighter now that it’s over.” 

There’s a moment of awkward silence that fell upon the both of you as you stared into the void, and Bruce could see that you obviously didn’t consider his words as true, and the guilt still gnawed at you like a vulture. 

Tho before he could even get a work out, a sudden swoosh of breeze rushes over the both of you, and Bruce observes as goosebumps come rising up your delicate skin. The hairs of your arms raising as you shivered upon impact. He was quick to make a work of it, shrugging his blazer and offering it to you in a quick, silent and almost nonchalant movement. 

“Please, I'm really not that cold.’ You smiled sheepishly as you tried to fight the way you’re all up and shivering all of a sudden. You’re drunk and not the least worried about the fact that you’re wearing nothing but a pair of black, lace panties under the long skin tight dress, but a certain playboy took notice of it.

It’s sinful, he is aware. He’s aware that you aren’t aware, and it makes him swallow in self loathing. Still, it was a miracle that you’d managed to have this effect on the billionaire playboy. Same guy who’d had a different woman hanging at his arm just about every gala he attended. Still, he averted his eyes back to the floor as he shrugged once more, silently ushering you to take on his jacket so he doesn’t have to glance at you again. He wasn’t sure for how much longer he could remain civilised, at least not when you were standing before himself 

Soon, he feels the expensive fabric of his suit jacket slip off his fingers, and onto yours. When he allowed himself to glance back at you, he’s marvelled by the way you swam in his clothing. His eyes were quickly back on the floor, feigning interest in the cracks along the sidewalk. So much for being civilised. 

The conversation lasted for what felt like a minute, but in reality you had strayed from your ground and had ended up talking to Bruce for about 45 minutes, and soon you became aware of it. From the distance, the sound of your name resounded from a female voice, one that you recognized very well. 

You peeped behind Bruce’s broad shoulders, and he too turned his head around at the sound of the name being called. He turned around to glimpse at you at the revelation, such a pretty name for such a pretty woman, he thought. 

It didn’t take long for the taller woman to reach you, and it was obvious that even with her heels off, she was still about a head taller than you were. She must’ve been your best friend, from the way she hurried by your side, and the glare that she threw towards Bruce’s way was lethal. 

The Wayne distanced himself a few steps back, if anything to show to the intruding woman that he meant no threat. She didn’t seem as drunk as you did, but he could still smell the vodka that clung to her pretty orange floral dress. Bruce watched as she clung two hand to each sides of your arms, rubbing them comfortably in and up and down motion over the fabric of his jacket. He couldn’t hear what she was hushing to you, but he made out a few ‘are you okay’s and a stray ‘do you even know who you’re talking to?’ 

You shrugged, not finding anything serious in the situation. When you’d wake up tomorrow morning with that imminent pounding headache, then you’d truly realise how stupid you really had been in that situation, and if Bruce hadn’t ever been the gentleman that he was, at least you thought so, then it could have ended bad for you. 

A couple more minutes of conversation with your friend later and an awkwardly standing-there Bruce later and she was gone, walking back to the group of women that Bruce had deducted as your friends. He didn’t miss the way your friend had thrown him a last deadly glare on her way out, and he found it somewhat amusing. 

“Sorry about that, she’s kinda the mom of the group you know…?” you shrugged, sounding confused about it yourself. The more the night gave in, the more you were starting to feel like you couldn’t understand what was going on. Nevertheless you continued. “She came to tell me that the uber would be here soon enough, soooo…” you trailed off again, staring off into the distance where your friend had walked back to.

“I don’t want this night to end, I don’t want to go back,” you whisper the last part like a hushed secret between the two of you, and if you could hear yourself talking clearly, you would’ve thought that you were really in love with this stranger you had just spent nearly a whole hour speaking to. You could’ve dreamt it but you swore that you heard a grumbled ‘me neither’ coming from the brick wall of a man standing in front of you. 

“I could always drop you back home if you want to.” he’s not really sure why he’s offering, because it’s sketchy coming from a random guy you’d just met off the streets, drunk off your mind, and a part of him prayed that you declined for the sake of yourself and a near future where you’d meet another stranger, drunk off your mind again. Plus it wasn’t like he had anything to drop you off with, he had walked his frustrated self here while stomping on the concrete sidewalk like a bratty toddler. But Bruce was always one to keep his words, and if he had to find a way then he would. He was Bruce Wayne after all. 

“Hey I really appreciate you and all but my mom would really smack me up the head if I accepted a ride from a stranger so..” your giggles trailed off the end of your sentence, not necessarily apologetic as you rejected his last minute offer. Maybe for the best, you could never know in Gotham. 

For the first time in the entire night, Bruce allowed himself to laugh for real. Allowed himself to show the side of Bruce Wayne that he showed to the public, except that it wasn’t a public act this time, it was all real. Real for you.

The vulnerability that he displayed for you would’ve made your heart swag in all sorts of directions if you even knew who was standing before you. Though you were quite sure that in the moment, you wouldn’t have been able to spout out even a single word if you were well aware that Bruce Wayne was talking to you, of all people.

There was another call for your name, and this time as Bruce and yourself turned to glance at the caller, you were met with the sight of your girlfriends trying to usher you into the car now waiting beside them. At this moment, Bruce understood that this could be the last time he’d ever see you, and with the way you were glancing up at him, he could tell that you were thinking just about the same. 

Bruce could still hear your girlfriends calling for you endlessly inside the uber, and he could see the reflection of one of them half-in and half-out the car trying to lure your drunken self inside. Though he didn’t care, he wanted to keep you here as long as he could for the night. He was selfish, he knew, but he dedicated his whole life to this city, to hell if he decided to be selfish for once in his damned life. 

His eyes observed carefully as you fished your cellphone from your purse, the device crammed between what seemed to be like a keychain which was absolutely suffocated by an unnecessary amount of keys, and a few tubes of what he believed was lipgloss or lipstick. Probably the ones you were wearing right now. He made a mental note to give you an endless array of those someday, just the best he could find, not any of that cheap shit you had stuffed in your bag. 

Next thing he knew, the frontal camera of your phone was stuffed in his face, and you stood so close to him that he could smell the perfume you were wearing just fine. He gave you a confused glance, and a curious raise of his eyebrow.

“Just need to know tomorrow when i wake up if you were really this handsome, or if I was just really this drunk.” you shrugged your shoulders like it was the most normal thing to spill, and Bruce felt his heart speed up the pace. Though it didn’t show on his face, ever.

You smiled at the phone, and Bruce managed to pull a slither of a grin just at the thought of the situation. He adjusted himself to meet your height so he could at least fit in the frame of your camera. 

Your phone is too much of an old model for it to have the frontal flash, so instead you’d  have to do with an extremely low quality, dark picture of yourself and this stranger.

You couldn’t deal with the proximity anymore, and you’re sure that this exotic smell that was enveloping your senses was that sweet cologne of his. It was hard to resist the way he was glancing down at you once you retracted the phone back at your side, waiting for you to say something as you tighten the jacket around your shoulders. 

He doesn’t really expect it when you regain your position in front of him, and even less when you scurry into your top toes to press a kiss against his slightly pink cheek, the effect of the cold making itself evident on his features. He’s tall, and aware, yet he doesn’t understand why he meets you halfway when you raise yourself high off your toes and bends down to help you offer him your little token of appreciation. 

The kiss is quick, and it leaves a warm and tingling feeling along his skin. He’s almost sure that there’s a large, red kiss mark on his cheek, but he’d be more than pleased to acknowledge it especially if it came from you. 

Once you’re back on your feet, you lose all the confidence you’ve had before. And by now your hands are hidden behind your back as you stare up at him with that look that makes Bruce want to offer you the whole world. 

“Thanks again Mr…” you hesitate, and it suddenly dawns on you that you don’t even know his name, and yet you’ve just called him handsome, bumped into him, talked his ear off for a good hour now and even kissed him. Even if it was the most innocent kiss on the cheek. 

“Wayne.” Bruce replies simply. Your moment is cut short once he feels the presence of your girlfriends besides him, and soon she’s grabbing onto your wrist and pulling her towards the car as you struggle to balance off of your heels. 

He watches, a smile on his face as you’re pulled off. You manage a little smile and an off-balanced wave as you’re pushed into the car. Soon all he’s left with is himself, the music in the background shifting from one song to another as everyone outside rushes back in. A summer hit, he thinks. Nothing for him. 

Bruce falters for a second, before turning on his heels and dragging himself back home. Though this time, he leaves with the distant memory of the strange woman that was talking to herself, and the lipstick mark burning into his skin in a way he thought he could die for. 

All he could think about at this instant was that he wanted to take you away, far away from Gotham, from the life you were both living, because he could see that it wasn't enough. He wanted to give you the best, and even if it’s miles away, then that’s where he’d take you. 

-

A/N: Thank you so much anon for your request, this was originally supposed to be a short 1.5k words drabble but oh well… Enjoy🫶🏽

[somethinginthewayiam]

The girl behind the bar (Part 4.1)

pairing: Jake Hangman Seresin x plus-size reader

warnings: self-doubt, bad self-body image

words: 3.3k

Summary: The bar is closed for some spring cleaning outside on the deck. At the same time, the navy pilots played some football on the beach in an attempt for some team-building exercise. After a while, Penny asked you to take her dog Theo for a walk on the beach...

Link to my masterlist

It was the day the bar was closed and therefore your day off, but you were at the Hard Deck anyway because Penny asked you to help with some sort of a spring cleaning of the bar, including the deck outside and washing all the big windows at the beachfront. Penny was taking care of the windows as you and Jimmy set up all the deck chairs, cleaning them off with a high-pressure cleaner. Penny’s dog Theo was running around you guys, having the time of his life running off with the sponge or chasing the water Penny was spritzing into the air.

It was the middle of the afternoon, the sun starting to fall after its noon peak, when you were done and Jimmy had taken off. Penny was sitting outside on the deck, going over the books. She had told you that you could also leave when Jimmy left but what else were you going to do?

All the people you knew in town were either at this bar or on the beach as the naval aviators were playing football with Maverick. Apparently, some sort of a team-building exercise for their mission training.

They had placed their belongings at the bar before wandering off onto the beach in their swimming trunks and sport outfits. You were in the middle of drying off the last deck chair as your eyes kept wandering over to the group. All men including Maverick were playing without a shirt on, except for Bob. The two women in the squad were wearing shorts and sports bras.

Your eyes were wandering to Hangman who was totally ripped and his upper body was glistening with sweat. Fuck, he looked good. Actually, everybody did. From Rooster to Coyote to Maverick, everybody was sporting a muscley, toned physique that apparently was mandatory by the Navy.

When you looked over at Penny, you caught her admiring the group in the same way you did, although her eyes were clearly set on Maverick. Her stare was interrupted when Theo jumped up and tried to grab the pen from her hands with his mouth. “Hey, no!”, she called out and motioned him to sit but he wiggled around like he had bees in his butt.

“Y/N, would you mind taking Theo for a little walk on the beach? Maybe throw the ball? I need to finish this here”, Penny asked you, pointing at the books in front of her. “Sure, I’m done here anyway”, you told her and threw the towel into the bucket. You wiped your hands on your shorts and kicked off your shoes.

You re-did your ponytail and grabbed the ball from the table where Penny had placed it earlier. “Thank you”, she said before you walked off the deck and called Theo, who followed you with a wiggling tail.

You had actually planned to go to the beach after work since you’ve never been since you moved here and it was a hot day. But after seeing the guys and gals playing football, everybody super fit and tanned and gorgeous, the urge to take your own clothes off had fallen to a negative one hundred. It made you feel even weirder that you were already wearing your bathing suit underneath your shorts and tank top.

You walked down the little pathway onto the sandy beach, walking towards the water and the group. “Hey Mav”, you said as you arrived at a beach chair that Mav has sat down in while you were walking down here.

“Hey Y/N! Up for a round of dogfight football?”, Mav asked you, looking up from his chair. You shielded your eyes from the low sun and watched the two groups charge at each other. “No thanks, I let you Navy guys do that. But I could go for a round of volleyball”, you suggested. “I got no ball with me, but that sounds like a good idea. Imma hold you to it”, he offered. “You got it”, you agreed with a smile and he gave you a fist bump.

“Are you done for the day?”, you asked, still watching the guys running around on the beach, celebrating when they scored a touchdown. They actually looked more like a team than they did all the times before when you saw them at the bar. You could only imagine what it was like at base camp as you had actually no idea what they did all day.

“Ah, yeah. I’ll leave the kids to play”, he said and started patting Theo, playing with him as Theo tried to catch Maverick’s finger he was wiggling in front of the dog’s face. “Are you done working, too?”, he asked you. “Yes, Penny asked me to distract this little guy so she can take care of the books”, you told him and he nodded. “But I’m sure she can use a break as well”, you added with a smirk on your lips. Mav looked over his shoulder towards the Hard Deck. “You think?”, he asked as he turned around again. “Oh, I’m sure”, you nodded encouragingly.

“Come on, Theo. Let’s throw that ball”, you said to your furry friend and wiggled the ball in front of his face to get his attention. You walked a few feet away from the group as to not get in their space before you started throwing the ball for Theo. Every time you threw it, Theo took a detour through the incoming waves. No matter how far away you managed to throw it from the ocean, he always splashed in the water before he came back to you. And whenever he came back with the ball, he shook his fur free from the water right in front of you, splashing you from top to bottom.

“Dude, I’m so wet because of you”, you said to him as he did another shake in front of you after dropping the ball by your feet. “A sentence Bob will never hear”, you heard Hangman’s voice next to you as he got the football that had landed close to you.

“Are you being a good boy and retrieving the ball for Maverick?”, you asked as you bent down to grab Theo’s ball and stood up again. “You got the good boy part right”, he said with a wink. Despite your better judgement, you giggled at his comment instead of your usual eyeroll and it surprised the both of you, which you saw at the expression on his face.

“Y/N!”, you suddenly heard behind you and the next moment, two strong arms wrapped around you from behind, beginning to lift you upwards. “Ahhh”, you let out a loud squeal and your body got all stiff. “No! Let me down!”, you demanded but tried to keep the sound of your voice light and friendly, even though you hated nothing more than to be lifted in the air.

Not because you actually hated to be up there but because you believed to be too heavy to be lifted by anybody and that when the person actually struggles to lift you or actually straight up can’t, it’s only gonna be embarrassing for the both of you.

Only when you turned around as you felt the sandy beach beneath your feet again, you found Rooster to be the person that tried to lift you. He was only wearing his jeans shorts (bold choice) and his upper body was glistening with sweat, just like all the others that started gathering around you. Fanboy took the ball from your hand and started throwing it for Theo.

“Are you guys done playing?”, you asked and shielded your eyes from the low sun. “Yeah, we’re absolutely roasted”, Fanboy told you, sounding out of breath. “Let’s all take a dip in the ocean”, Payback suggested. “Yeah, let’s do that”, Rooster agreed. “You coming, too?”, he asked you. “Oh, no, you guys go ahead. I got the little guy here”, you told him and pointed at Theo who was just bringing the ball back to Fanboy.

“Just send him back up to Penny, he knows the way”, Rooster suggested. “If you want to change, we can wait for you”, Phoenix offered. “Or go in your underwear, we don’t mind”, Fanboy mentioned. “Thank you, Fanboy, but I’m actually already wearing my bathing suit”, you told them and lifted the hem of your shirt to show off the black fabric.

“Okay, then it’s settled. Let’s go”, Rooster said and patted your back. You contemplated for a moment. You were hot and sweaty from your work and you had planned on going into the ocean for a swim anyways. A sudden inner defiance against your own insecurities about your body and its size had you finally giving in.

“Alright, but let me put my clothes by the chair”, you told them and started walking over to said chair, taking Theo with you. When you came closer, you noticed that Maverick was gone. When you looked towards the Hard Deck, you found him talking to Penny, sitting across from her.

You put the ball gently into Theo’s mouth and told him to go to his owner, which he actually understood and you watched him run up the path towards Penny, dropping the ball by her feet. That made her advert her eyes from Maverick and look at her little companion. She grabbed the ball and looked down onto the beach where she found you waving. She waved back and gave you a thumbs up.

The others had followed you and started to take off their clothes, revealing some swim shorts beneath their regular pants.

At first, you didn’t want to undress in front of them, but then you thought that there was no comparison between them and you anyway, you were playing in different leagues, well, technically you’re not competing as you didn’t even play the same sport. Figuratively AND literally.

You unzipped your shorts and pushed them down your legs before you pulled your shirt over your head, revealing a one-piece bathing suit with cut-outs on the side, just low enough to hide the rolls on your back, but also high enough to show your smaller waist which you were actually quite proud of.

You laid out your clothes so they could dry while you were taking a dip. As the others were quicker than you, they already headed for the waves.

As you got up, you reached inside the bra portion of your bathing suit and rearranged your boobs to fit better. You had the bathing suit for a little while and it got a bit snug around certain parts but it was still the best bathing suit you had ever owned, so you would never throw it out.

When you turned around, you locked eyes with Bob, who was sitting there in his shirt and shorts, applying sunscreen on his arms, while your hand was still in your bra. “Just sorting out the girls”, you said and let out a little embarrassed chuckle. You quickly pulled your hand out and put your hands on your hips as you suddenly didn’t know what to do with them.

“Are you not going swimming?”, you asked. “No, I rather sit this one out, thanks”, he said and you immediately recognized the shyness that came with the unwillingness to take off your own shirt in front of other people. “I bet after such an intense game, a dip in the ocean must be quite nice”, you said and tried to make it sound super random.

“Yeah, probably”, he just shrugged his shoulders. He was a hard one to crack but you knew from personal experience how that felt. “You can just go in with your shirt on, you know?”, you suggested. “Yeah, like that wouldn’t look super awkward”, he scoffed and looked out at the ocean where the guys and girls already swam, dipping each other under the water and splashing around.

“I can put my shirt back on as well, then we’re already two”, you offered. “But you just sorted out the girls”, he said. His comment was so dry that it took you a good moment to recognize the joke within.

“Look who got some jokes now”, you chuckled and nudged his shoulder. A shy smile appeared on his lips and he looked down at the bottle of sunscreen in his hands.

“Listen, if I was able to take off my shirt, then definitely you can, too”, you told him. “Easy for you to say”, he responded and was hinting at something obvious, but it just wasn’t obvious to you. Didn’t he know that for girls it was always harder to undress in public, especially for girls with a body like yours?

“Hey, would it help if I go without my top on as well?”, you suggested as a joke, your thumb under the strap of your bathing suit. “Yeah, immensely”, he immediately answered. “And for that you have to go swimming with me now”, you told him off with your index finger pointed at him. Then you extended your hand and pulled him up when he finally took it. Together, you walked towards the ocean.

“Y/N!”, Rooster called out as soon as he saw you. He was halfway out of the water and came straight towards you. “NO!”, you immediately said and held out your hand in front of you. “Not again!”, you added as he sped up. You started walking to the side, speeding up as best as you could. When you saw him starting to run, you tried to play along and also run away from him, but you knew that you and cardio weren’t the best of friends and also this would end in the water anyway. And before you would alarm everybody with a bright, red face and a whistling tone while you tried to breathe, you started to run towards the water.

Rooster was behind you in no time, wrapped his arms around you again and managed to cover exactly the cut-outs of your bathing suit. Even though you knew what was coming, the sudden skin-on-skin contact threw you off a little bit and Rooster used the irritation to pick you up and carry you the few steps into deeper water before he threw you in.

You were actually glad about the cool-down the water provided you with. Normally, you were not surrounded by so many good-looking people in so little clothing and it got to you a little bit. Your last time has been way too long ago. Way, way too long.

“Why do you guys always have to be so rough?”, you said after coming back up to the surface, spitting out the water and rubbing your eyes, a salty taste in your mouth. “Some girls like it rough”, Coyote commented with a sleezy laugh, bobbing in the water behind you. “Yeah, well there’s a place and a time. Like the bedroom or the backseat of a Bronco”, you said out loud before you could think. “She’s not wrong”, Rooster agreed and got a dreamy expression on his face. Only now you realized that he was actually driving a Bronco and probably had some good times in there other than a few fun road trips.

When you looked back to the beach, you found Bob standing there. “Hey!”, you exclaimed and waved at him to come into the water. “You don’t think I’ll actually do it, huh?”, you shouted towards him. “Do what?”, Fanboy asked. “I told him I’ll take my top off if he does as well and comes into the water”, you told him. “BOB, GET THAT SHIRT OFF AND YOU DAMN ASS OVER HERE!”, Fanboy screamed towards the beach and some of the other guys screamed Bob’s name as well and motioned him to get into the water. “Come on, Bob!”, Phoenix called out towards her teammate and back-seater.

When he finally took off his shirt and came into the water, everybody cheered. “Alright, your turn”, he said to you when he arrived at the group that were all bobbing in the water together. “Stop being such horny teenagers. I already took my top off, it’s drying over there in the sun”, you told them and nodded towards your clothes on the beach.

“If you’ll excuse me now, I’m gonna actually swim for a little bit”, you said and as you turned around in the water to start swimming away from the group, you almost crashed into Hangman. You hadn’t noticed him there before. Out of surprise, you put your hands on his chest under the water just to brace yourself. Your fingertips sank into his skin for a split second and you felt his body heat on your palms under the water.

“Sorry”, you just mumbled and noticed that you sounded a bit breathless. “All good”, he simply said.

You swam around him, his eyes following you, and made sure to swim out for a few strokes to get some space between you and Hangman. It embarrassed you how that little moment just threw you off, feeling your cheeks burning up. You dismissed it as the exertion from swimming against the incoming waves.

You swam back and forth for a little bit, trying not to go out too far and when your arms felt tired, you lay on your back, floating on the water and feeling the last rays of sunshine of the day on your face.

You let your mind wander a bit and you started to think about the new friends you had made over the past weeks. It all felt a bit weird. It seemed like the guys were flirting with you, but you also made fun of each other. You never really had guy friends and didn’t know how to categorize all the interactions. You just filed everything under “friendly hazing”. Because there was no other side to it…right?

“Y/N!”, you suddenly heard Phoenix call out your name. You swam upright again and looked towards the shore. She waved you to swim back to the beach as everybody was ready to get out.

Phoenix and Halo, the other woman in the squad, were waiting for you, handing you your clothes. The guys were already back at the Hard Deck, putting their shirts back on.

“Hey, Y/N, Penny said we could stay at the bar for a few hours if you promise to take our money and clean up afterwards”, Coyote told you as you arrived on the deck of the bar. You walked over to your bag and grabbed the big beach towel you had brought with you and wrapped it around your body. You suddenly felt very under-dressed with so many people around you.

You looked at Penny, who seemed to be ready to drive off with Maverick, who was wearing his leather jacket, and had Theo on his leash. She gave you a little nod, letting you know that she was actually okay with Coyote’s suggestion.

You shrugged your shoulders. “Okay, I’ll do that”, you agreed and then turned to Coyote. “If you don’t make such a mess in the first place”, you admonished him and pointed a finger of warning at him. “Scouts honors”, he promised and held up his right hand.

Penny, Mav and Theo left and you got inside with everybody. “I’ll go change”, you told Phoenix and took your bag into the women’s restroom. You changed from your wet bathing suit into the underwear you had brought with you and rubbed your hair somewhat dry before you changed back into your shorts and a fresh black tank top. You looked at your face in the mirror. You regretted that you didn’t have any make-up on you, simple mascara or something, but you really hadn’t expected to be spending your evening with the group.

You came back out and stored your bag under the bar counter.

“Who’s ready for the first round?”.

Next chapter: Part 4.2

[glytrp]

── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──

Dabi’s Love Languages

headcanons (18+)

❥ gift giving: out of all the love languages, gift giving is the one he cares the least about. don’t get him wrong, he’ll take the gift, but he might bitch and moan about it. not really the sentimental type, and also not materialistic so it’s impossible to shop for him. the only ‘gift’ he won’t complain about is food but it might not even get eaten either because his appetite is nonexistent from all the coffee and cigarettes.

❥ words of affirmation: does not give out compliments generously. he doesn’t praise anyone except his partner, and even then he’s stingy with a nice word or two. doesn’t like to receive compliments either because he doesn’t feel like they’re sincere. when the occasion does arise and he feels like it’s appropriate, he might tell you that you look like a ‘doll’ or make some comment about your lips looking pretty and ‘looking prettier wrapped around something else.’ 

❥ quality time: home body. after work, likes to grab a beer, sit on the couch and go on his phone. but with his partner, he wants them on his lap, telling him about their day, listening to them talk. will put on a movie. only likes chill, low stakes dates. maybe a quiet bar, walking through downtown or along the pier, a little bonfire at the beach. wants to be left to his peace and doesn’t want anyone to interrupt his time with his partner. 

❥ physical touch: sex is his love language. he has a very high libido and his ego is hooked to his performance in the bedroom. needs to have sex three times a day or else he’ll start moping. wants his partner’s legs over his lap while his lips are on their neck. always has his hand on their thigh, rubbing a hand up their back. Dabi doesn’t do gentle, okay, it’s always firm touches. marathon sex is how you know he’s in a good mood. if he’s in a bad mood, he still wants marathon sex except he’s gonna make you do all the work, record it, and have you vocalize how good he feels while doing it. 



❥ acts of service: by far his most important love language. likes when his partner is #wifeymaterial. literally wants his partner to do his laundry, cook for him, clean, all that domestic shit. if you make him lunch for work, he’ll internalize the hell out of it and think about it all day. help him dye his hair, take off his jewelry before bed. likes to play fetch with you aka hand him random junk he’s too lazy to get up himself. example: his shoes before work, or a lighter, or cup of coffee in the morning. when he’s sick, he wants you doting on him. a bowl of soup, little wet towel on his forehead, checking his fever. mhm, he’s a big baby when he’s a sick (as all men tend to be). 

[akxmee]

★ 01. 𝗪𝗢𝗢𝗣𝗦! 𝗜 𝗗𝗜𝗗 𝗜𝗧 𝗔𝗚𝗔𝗜𝗡.

"You know we'll have to tell her eventually."

"Well, eventually ! Not right now."

The voices kept arguing nonstop. On the other hand, you were absolutely petrified. Your thoughts raced, you felt like your heart stopped for three whole minutes now and your hands were shaking. A part of you wanted to run, go to your room and lock yourself in there, but something inside you knew that even if you tried, those two strangers would hear you and you'd get caught.

There were also your pets, were they anywhere near? The fact that they mentioned their names freaked you out a lot, but there was no time to waste thinking about something that could be as simple as a coincidence.

In conclusion, you needed to grab your pets and get out of there. Around you was only useless decoration that you couldn't use as a weapon even if you tried your best to inagine it. However, you had a plate! Better than nothing. You could just..Smash it on the stranger's head or something. In a timespan of 30 seconds your mind already had a plan; stop shaking, think straight and run.

So you did, a strong wave of confidence getting into you and—

CRACK!

The loud sound filled the silence.

You did not stop shaking.

Actually, it was the dirty plate you were grabbing that slipped from your hands, fell and broke into many pieces. You gasped in horror at this as your body was getting ready to run. Before you could even react, the door was suddenly opened and a pair of bright blue eyes was looking at you.

Staring right at you, a conflicted expression on the stranger's face.

"Y/N?"

He was tall, way taller than most men you've ever known. He had gorgeous silky white hair and lashes that made his blue eyes even more mesmerizing. Not only that, but you also found out the other voice was another breathtaking-looking man; straight long black hair, dark eyes and attractive features. In a normal situation you would be amazed and even a little embarrassed to be so close to men as handsome as them, but right now all you saw was danger. They broke into your house, were arguing about something between the lines of lying and finding out — were they perhaps talking about some kind of crime? God, that's even worse —, not to mention they were a few feet away from you. That's close enough to stab you if they wanted to.

"We can explain, we mean no harm at all."

Yeah, sure.

You stayed silent, really wanting to ask so many questions but no words came out of your mouth. Now that you've noticed, they were wearing familiar clothes. The white haired boy was wearing..were those choso's pants that he left weeks ago at your home when you had a beach hangout and you swore you didn't find when he claimed he left them at your house? Not only that, all of their clothes were either dirty and torn off shoes mixed with shirts you considered long time gone.

"Who are you?"

The black haired guy placed a hand on the other boy's shoulder, looked like it was his time to talk now.

"Listen, I need you to calm down. Please, we will answer every question."

"Suguru, c'mon please don't—"

"Every. Question." He glanced at the male, frowning. "You knew this was going to happen, I told you."

He angry-whispered as he softened his expression not to look too intimidating, looking at you now. You took a few steps back, not caring about the broken plate's sharp pieces scattered on the floor. Luckily enough, you didn't step on it.

"I want every single one answered." You looked at them up and down, realizing that you were still too close to your liking. "And distance if you don't want me to call the police right now."

Their expressions sharpened. Oh, so they were scared of the police.

Nice, you could use that to your advantage later.

"Okay. Are you calm now?"

"No, but— fuck, let's be real, i will never calm down in this situation. Now, what are you doing here?"

There was an awkward silence where both boys looked at eachother while thinking of a response. The white haired boy responded this time;

"Just passing by and saw the window open."

Not only you, but the other guy looked at him as if he had no brain at all. He sighed and shook his head, giving up.

"so that's why you're wearing my clothes that i lost weeks ago? You just found them when i've been looking for them for ages? And knew my name too?"

"Satoru, just keep quiet."

Ah, that again.

"Satoru", just like your dog.

Satoru, was he okay? Was suguru hiding too? You couldn't help but think about them right now. They must be scared, maybe sleeping not knowing you're having the worst time of your life, and hopefully they're safe too.

"My pets. Did you do anything to them? I swear I'll call the police right now if something happened."

The black haired man looked at you, actually looked at you. Like he was trying to find the words to throw some horrifying news in your face.

"We are fine."

"We?"

"Satoru," he signaled to the white haired boy. "and suguru." Then, he pointed to himself. "We are fine."

They kept silent. You laughed. Laughed so, so loud. This had to be some kind of bad joke, something to make you pay for all of your mistakes in your past life. Something about you felt some kind of relief for a minute.

"Oh my god— man, were you two sent by shoko? Tell her she's not funny at all. I almost believed you broke into my house for real!" You opened your hand, offering it to them."Just give me the keys and I'll let it pass."

Silence once again. You kept laughing until the sound of your laughter faded, looking confused as to why they didn't give you the keys yet. In fact, they didn't even have something in their hands neither did it look like they had something in their pockets.

So naturally, you were confused at first. How could your pets become humans in the first place?

And then it hit you.

Hybrids.

They could if they were hybrids, and that would only mean that you've been taking care of hybrids this whole time.

"Wait a second, because that just can't be."

"It can. Don't the similarities look too familiar to you? Look, i have the same eyes and hair as when i am a dog. And look at sugu! He's got—"

"No, it can't be."

You denied to believe the truth. Yes, the dots connected and it all made sense now; the clothes, the argument that you heard, the fact that they knew your name..but it couldn't be. Satoru and Suguru couldn't be hybrids.

"Because you refuse to believe hybrids exist? Y/N, the government already confirmed it." Satoru spoke softly, trying not to push any buttons. "We are hybrids."

"You are killers."

You shot the bullet.

And their faces said it all. Satoru's sweet tone while trying to explain it to you faded into silence and Suguru's eyes held a feeling of conflict, hurt. They expected you to think that, of course, but their imagination could never get close to your cold voice full of betrayal as you pronounced those words. Satoru tried to reach for you, his hand barely unnoticeably shaking as he tried to touch you to hold you and assure you everything he needed to say before you said those words again.

But you smacked his hand.

And It hurt more than it should have. It burned a piece of his soul.

"I know what hybrids have done. I know that you kill us humans just because you think you're better. Was it just that? You came into my life just to take it, to kill me?"

Satoru just stared at you, looking away soon after hearing that not being able to meet your gaze. You really thought they would kill you right now?The idea of even hurting you made them feel sick. If they wanted to, they would have done it so long ago.

But they didn't.

Because they, hybrids, had a home just like humans do. Somewhere, someone to call a home.

"Y/N, we would never hurt you." Suguru, observing that his friend was unable to defend himself any further, talked. "You are precious to us. That's why we didn't tell you, look at you right now."

Suguru took a step further, slowly approaching you.

"This is not what we want. If we wanted to do something bad to you, we would already have so long ago."

Another step.

"So please, trust us and let us explain. We're not what you think we are."

You hesitated but let Suguru get closer while you did so. He place his hand on your shoulder, making you look up to him. He was so alike to your cat it felt surreal. Same long black hair and dark brown eyes that, if the sunlight illuminated them, turned into a beautiful honey color. He even smelled the same as his scented pet shampoo. Swallowing, you nodded.

This was the craziest thing that ever happened to you.

And you were just accepting it.

Maybe that made you guilty aswell.

"You two have exactly 10 minutes to explain every single thing from the start. No tricks allowed."

You think you've never seen brighter smiles in your life after you said that.

Now you were in bed with Suguru since satoru offered to clean the broken plate pieces all over the floor while you two talked. You were facing eachother, and he was keeping his distance as he promised he would do.

Until now, everything he explained to you was mind-blowing. He started with the government lying about them, and that's when you understood why they didn't want you to call the police. He admitted that they never did something like killing or attacking someone impulsively "just because of their animal instinct" which you now believed. So now, you were just laying in bed staring at the ceiling with him. Different types of questions were still on your mind, but Suguru said that you can wait until tomorrow now that the important things are cleared and he didn't want to overwhelm you.

However, there was still one thing you needed to know.

"Hey, Suguru."

"Mhm?"

"Isn't there anything I could do? To help you both."

He didn't even think about it, answering immediately.

"No."

"Why not? Can't I just.. talk to your people like they do in the movies?"

Suguru laughed a little, happy that you were comfortable enough to make jokes. He had such a light laughter that matched his soft voice perfectly.

"I'm afraid not."

"But you didn't answer my other question. Why not?"

"Because we are killers, Y/N."

You stopped looking at the ceiling stare at him and when your eyes looked to your side to do so, you found out he was already staring at you calmly. That stressed you a little, what he just said didn't make sense compared to what he had claimed an hour ago and you were not in the mood to get scared again.

"But you said you didn't kill anyone."

"We didn't." He paused, a sad smile across his face. "Hybrids do. And as long as we live, we'll always be seen as equals."

There was nothing else said after he said that. It left you thinking about how cruel life is to them, while he looked as peaceful as ever. He already assimilated it, that's how hard it was for them.

Be born as a killer, die as one too.

"Suguru."

He hummed again in response, maybe wondering why were you asking so many questions when he already said he would answer them all tomorrow.

"You're still hiding something from me, aren't you?"

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓.🌷

—𝗔𝗨𝗧𝗛𝗢𝗥'𝗦 𝗡𝗢𝗧𝗘: first chapter done! We had mostly suguru here, but next chapter we'll have a lot of satoru and a new character to the story ;).

(also, reminder that english is not my first language. Please dm me any mistakes you might find to fix them asap!)

@kingshitonly @snake-lover-artist-blog @ashers-playpen @pizza-market @channies-bbg-room @pdacex @spindyl @foliea

—𝗧𝗔𝗚𝗟𝗜𝗦𝗧

[fanfictiongirlie]

Twilight: Some Soulmate - Chapter Ten

Click here for masterlist

Parings: Paul Lahote x Reader

Description: Y/N a member of the Cullen family is imprinted on by one of the wolves, she is shocked, he is shocked. She is struggling with drinking animal blood over human, and he is disgusted by a vampire for a soulmate… But maybe it could work..?

Rating: General Audiences

Warnings: None

Words: 1,083

I was more nervous than I had ever been in my entire life. And I had lived through wars, and angry mobs who wanted to kill me. 

Today was the day I would be meeting the other wolves, Paul's family basically. I hadn't left Paul's since Edward and Bella's wedding night, well, I left to go pack some clothes, though at night Paul insisted I wore one of his shirts, I wore a pair of my shorts with it, and according to Paul, I looked beyond sexy. 

Paul was still sleeping when I decided to leave the bed, it took a second, because his arms were around me tight. I dressed in his bathroom quickly, wearing my 'hunting' outfit as I called it. It was a pair of black leggings and a black polo shirt. I left the bathroom to come back into the bedroom, and Paul was awake, yawning and stretching. 

"Are you ready for today?" He asked me, I nodded and leant over to kiss his cheek. 

"I'll be back soon" I smiled, sitting down to slip my shoes on. 

"Where are you going?" He asked, with a frown. 

"I need to feed" I smiled, he nodded, frowning. He hated that I had to feed on blood to live, I could feel it inside of him. I wish I could change for him. 

I reach over and kiss him again, and then I leave through the window. I ran off into the woods, I'd had to go back into my land to feed, I wandered around, until I ran into Rosalie and Emmett feeding. They had found a deer and were feeding on it. 

"Hey" I smiled

"Want some?" Emmett grinned, his entire mouth covered in blood. I laughed and crouched down with them, baring my fangs I dropped down and started drinking from the animals neck. 

Once I was done, I stood up, and looked down, I was covered in blood, feeding was a messy job. 

"Are you going back to Pauls?" Rosalie asked, I shook my head.

"Not covered in blood, he would probably run a mile" I say, they smile at me, I could feel that they felt bad for me.. Despite Paul loving me, I was still the thing he hated most in the world. 

We ran back to the house, I showered quickly and joined Esme and Carlisle in the kitchen before I left for Paul's again. I also dressed in a long pair of jeans, and a top that was long sleeved top, I wasn't sure how the other wolves would react to me sparkling. 

"I've missed you" Esme whispered as she hugged me. 

"I've missed you too" I say "I've got to go again, I'm spending the day with Paul and the wolves today" 

"Excited?" Carlisle asked, chuckling. 

I shook my head "Nervous" 

I hugged them both, and left the house and sped back to Paul's, he greeted me by hugging me tightly. I think maybe I was gone for longer than what he thought. 

"Ready love?" He asked. 

"Nope" I answered, he laughed and took my hand, and we started walking towards the beach together. Luckily it wasn't sunny today, it felt like it was going to rain. 

"What if they don't like me?" I asked "Actually they probably won't like me"

"Stop worrying love" He smiled, holding my hand tighter. 

We soon reached the beach, and the huge group of men, and a few women were gathered, looking towards us.

Paul let go of my hand and ran towards the boys, they all jumped into a hug.  I stood behind, I felt like an intruder here.. 

"Y/N come over" Emily smiled towards me, I nervously walked forward, until I standing right next to the group. They were all staring at me. 

"Hi" I mumbled, I noticed Paul looking at me with his lovely soft eyes. 

"Guys, this is Y/N, my girlfriend" He said, putting his arm around my waist. Even through my top I could feel the heat from his arm, it made me feel safe. There was a mumble of hello's. And a super happy hello from Seth, he also stepped forward and hugged me tightly, surprising me. 

"Let's play some ball!" Paul smiled, running off with the group of males, leaving me with the girls, Leah glared at me. 

"Let's sit" Emily smiled, I followed her as she walked towards a blanket laid out on the sand. 

We watched the boys play football for a little while, until Sam came over and sat with Emily hugging her. Leah left to go sit with Jacob, Embry, and Seth. 

Paul ran over and tackled me, kissing my jaw as he pinned me down, I was giggling, as I pushed back and pinned him. We stopped and sat leaning against one another. 

"Who's that little girl with..?" I didn't know the man's name.

"That's Quil, and my niece Claire" Emily explained. 

"She's Quil's imprint" Paul added. I looked at him confused, she was a little girl?

"Remember, when a wolf imprints, it isn't always romantic" Sam explained. I nodded, not quite understanding. 

"Why do wolves imprint?" I ask. 

"We're not really sure why, but our elders think we imprint with the best person to carry on our line with us" Sam explained, confusing me further. 

"Suppose I ruin that theory" I say, frowning. I took Paul's hand in mine, feeling the warmth take me, as I fiddle with his fingers. 

"Whatcha mean?" Paul asked, holding my hands tighter, I could feel his confusion towards me, he hadn't thought about it yet.. I had. If Paul wanted to be with me for the rest of his life, it would be missing many things. 

"Well I can't carry your line on Paul" I say, not looking at his face. I had always wanted children was I was little, but I'm a vampire, that wasn't a possibility. And I wouldn't feel ok adopting, because there were two routes, one I watch them die, and two I turn them into a vampire. I couldn't do that.. 

"I guess I never thought about that" He said, his hand was still linked with mine, I think it was holding onto me tighter. 

"Well you're both still early days, you shouldn't worry about that now" Emily smiled to the both of us.. I felt a dark pit inside of me. I felt like I couldn't give Paul a good life.. and he deserved a good life.. I suddenly felt lost. 

Previous Part - Next Part

[mydarlingclaudia]

taste like the fourth of july

note : dividers are from @/rookthornesartistry. I FUCKING LOVE LANA DEL REY AND I LOVE HER UNRELEASED SONGS GUESS WHAT THIS IS INSPIRED BY!!!!!! SUGAR DADDY CHRIS!!!!!!! OOC DONT WORRY ABOUT IT!!!!!! this is really short but I've had this in my drafts since 9/9 and I finally got it of motivation to write it so it was either getting written tonight or not at all and if you saw this as a wip in a wip tag game and you thought it was gonna be smut sorry lmao

wc : 1.2k

tags : @lottiies @luvrgreyy @withonly-sweetheart @onlyasimp4nobody

desc : sugar daddy. established-ish relationship, fluff, a bit suggestive, age gap (mid twenties - late forties), fem!reader, re8!Chris, not proofread

You love him ‘cause he tastes like your favorite liquor, and also because of the fat wad of cash he’s willing to hand over if you just bat your eyelashes at him. Well, that might be the reason, anyway. Not one of the sweetest men you’ve ever been with, but definitely one of the best.

Chris will buy pretty much anything for you. Expensive shoes you’ve been staring at in magazines? Yours. A watch that’s way too expensive but you like the color? It’s on your wrist the next morning. A cute new swimsuit? It’s yours as long as he gets to watch you model it.

There seems to be only perks when it comes to continuing on with whatever is going on between you and Chris; the money, the gifts, the vacations, the sex. Only downside is him going away for work, but that’s only a small downside, it doesn’t scare you away. Chris isn’t leaving you uncared for, anyway. The $1,000 he gives you the night before he heads out is supposed to be an apology, that’s what he says, at least.

Chris isn’t totally sure why he’s still doing this, he always thought of himself as a more traditional guy, you know, get a girlfriend that would eventually become a fiancée and after that a wife. But when he met you at this nice little restaurant, sitting all alone at the bar, eyeing him the whole fucking night, what was he supposed to say to you when you tapped him on the shoulder and asked him for a cigarette? No? It was a lucky enough guess that you even assumed he had cigarettes on him, maybe the smell of the smoke clung to his clothes more than had thought.

You hadn’t even asked if he was married, you probably saw his ring finger that lacked a wedding ring and took that as a green light.

It’s probably better this way, Christ, you’re twenty-six and he’s forty-eight. Chris could waste a few thousand dollars on you, give you a few years of his time, there’s not much else that he does besides work.

And you’re pretty, you’re worth the money.

So who is he to deny you? It really is a win-win.

But it’s not like you and Chris are exclusive, you were both able to sleep with whoever you wanted, no hard feelings if you do or don’t. And you did, for a little bit, before you started questioning whether or not Chris did the same. You never noticed another woman's clothes in his apartment, no lipstick-stained shirts in his hamper, nothing. You stopped seeing other men maybe a week after Chris had found a few fading hickeys on your hips and left darker ones where they once stood.

Okay, saying you love him might actually be a bit of a lie, but you’re pretty sure he’s lying to you too when he says it back. You’re not one to look things over too much, even if he does truly love you, that just makes your situation better.

Another great thing is date night.

You love vacations just as much as the next person, but Chris' job doesn't guarantee any amount of time longer than a week off. So vacations are a treat, typically a birthday present for either you or Chris, go somewhere with a great beach and greater drinks.

Date night is at the very least once a month, Chris always calls you a few days before, tells you the time and place and you just stand there and nod before blowing him a kiss over the phone as a goodbye before hanging up.

He takes you out, buys you dinner, gets you a new dress or a new necklace depending on how you're feeling that night, then drives you through the city before heading back to either his or your place.

You will admit that you find it funny when he doesn't know how to react to what you do. If you want something, say it, okay? Don't send him nudes, he's told you time and time again that he prefers seeing you face-to-face and not on a tiny screen that doesn't capture the whole view. You think he prefers it that way because then at least he can reach out and touch you instead of trying to type things out on his phone only for them to end up being deleted seconds later.

The morning after date night is never awkward, at least not usually. You either spend the day at Chris' or he takes you out shopping again before dropping you back at your place. You still feel sore most mornings.

This is one of those mornings, you can still feel the burn between your legs and the sting of bites, scratches, and beard burn left behind. Chris isn't there when you grope around for him in bed, but he's quick to come to your rescue as you hear the sink in the bathroom turn on before the door opens and he steps out.

"You up?" He's straightening his shirt out when he asks you, not looking at you as you sit up in his bed.

You stretch and rub your eyes, "Mhm," You mumble, Chris finally looks at you.

"You usually sleep like a log."

"Can you blame me?" Another mumble and he smiles, walking over to you and placing both his hands on the side of your face so he can lean down and kiss the top of your head. "Goin' somewhere?"

"Got called in, something important, apparently." He sighs, you push forward and lean against his ribs as he brushes through your tangled hair with his fingers.

"It always is."

"Mm, don't pout."

"Don't want me to miss you?" As always, whenever you tease him, he only responds to you with a light scoff before he smiles. Chris pulls you away from his ribs so he can cup the back of your neck and get you to look at him, his thumbs trace over the edges of your jaw and you hum.

"You still want something from me?"

"A pony," Chris rolls his eyes this time, kneeling so he can wrap his arms around you once you giggle.

"We're going out again once I get back." You think you hear him murmur, "Not to get a fucking pony." under his breath even though you can feel his breath in your ear, but you know he's saying that more to himself than to you.

"Surprise me?"

"Sure," Chris pulls back and kisses your cheek before his lips meet yours, his kisses are as slow as they always are. Chris breaks the kiss for a second only yo mumble, "Do you feel alright?"

"Yeah, I'm just gonna go back to bed for a bit." You press a kiss to his closed mouth as you play with the ends of his short hair.

"I gotta go," You sigh and kiss him again before you pull away from him, he kisses the corner of your mouth before he stands up. "Go have fun today."

"I will."

"Good, I wanna see what you bought later." You lay back down again as Chris starts to pull his jacket on and head for the bedroom door.

"Don't be too late," Your back is already turned towards the door when you call out to him, you don't see the smile he shoots you over his shoulder before he leaves.