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timmydraker · 4 months ago

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CW: use of R word

Tim who, as much as he doesn’t want it to be true, is a poster boy for typical Neurodivergence. He’s more logically thinking that emotionally and needs obvious signs of someone’s emotional state that he can put together to understand how he should respond to help them.

But that’s not what bothers him because that doesn’t bother his parents.

Instead it’s his passion, though not in technology and detective work as they quickly found use for that in their business, but for bugs.

Ever since he was a kid Tim has been enamoured by insects and arachnids and even fungi. He would only read books that talked about bugs or had one on the cover, but since it helped him learn to read at a steady pace his parents didn’t mind.

At least, not at first.

When Tim got into coding just so he could make his own little web-journal for all his bug finds, they were happy he was learning how to organise and structure at just six years old, but when he only did those things regarding bugs…

Tim had his first panic attack when he watched his father pick up his terrarium filled with Diapheromera Femorata (Stick bugs) and chucked it into the bin. The glass shattered as the corner his something hard and he was forced to watch his bugs struggle to navigate the glass and rubbish, most of them injured.

His mother had gagged when she saw them and demanded the whole bin be burnt with the bugs still inside.

Tim had been so heart broken, but mostly confused. His parents traveled the world to dig up dirt and old items that were mostly the same yet they didn’t like bugs?

When he asked one his Nanny’s she gave him an answer that he would never forget, “Well, you see… only those people like bugs, y’know? The… special ones, like re-“

Tim never even let himself think of the last word she spoke and from then only forced himself to only focus on his computer work. He still loved photography but now he took photos of skylines and trees, not the beautiful beehive a few yards behind his house or the spider webs that sat between branches like art works. He took photos of Batman and Robin and for a long time that was enough to make his longing bearable.

If he still followed several pages and articles about bugs either a secret email account, that didn’t matter.

His parents were happy with him even if they still made remarks about his ‘stupid little fixation’.

It’s when they are going over the paper work for Bruce to be Tim’s legal guardian while they weren’t home with Tim’s older brothers hanging around as moral support (bodyguards) that his parents mock him.

Janet is signing some paper with a stupidly expensive pen and chatting to no one in particular when she says, “You’re all lucky we killed this nasty little bugs of his so you don’t have to deal with them.”

Everyone else in the room freezes, beside Jack who huffs a laugh and adds, “Good thing we did, he’d probably be more of a retard otherwise- talking about ‘habitats’ and bloody spiders.”

All of the members of the Wayne family are dead quiet as Tim sits there with a clear look of disassociation coming into his eyes. Alfred has a calm look on his face that tells all who know him that he’s furious and Bruce is strikingly similar.

Jason looks ready to attack and Dick isn’t even moving to stop his brother or calm anyone down.

Damian is holding onto Titus’s collar like a lifeline but seems to give the hound some kind of silent order as the usually calm dog begins to growl low and dangerous.

Jack and Janet tense and stare at both dog and master, Jack ordering him to control his dog.

Bruce stands, letting Titus growl and taking the half signed papers and throwing them in the bin, “I changed my mind, I will be taking you to court for full custody of my son. Leave my house now so I may obtain a restraining order.”

Janet genuinely flounders for a moment and begins to shout about outrage and audacity but when Dick sees that Tim is starting to cry he stands up and reminds them that he is a cop before moving to pick up his second youngest brother and leaving the room.

Tim doesn’t hear much else, only muffled shouting and the sound of a door slamming.

He distantly realises he’s in the family room, not the one they use to have guest but the real one with beanbags and a snack draw, and is being cradled by his brothers. Even Damian is beside him, holding onto his hand tightly as they wait for Bruce and Alfred.

Tim sobs into Dicks chest for Alamos a whole hour before settling more, Bruce coming into the room and Jason and Dick reluctantly hand him over to he can be held by their father.

“Tim, chum, it’s alright. We’ve got you.”

The boy in question shakes his head, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I won’t talk about the bugs I promise-“

Bruce squeezes him tighter and kisses his head, “I don’t want that. What I want is to hear about your bugs.”

Stunned, Tim looks up at him with confusion and barely gets his mouth to move enough to ask what he means.

Dick coos from beside him on the next couch and runs a hand through his hair lovingly, “My sweet baby brother we love you, and you love bugs! So of course we want to hear about it. I’m so sorry we didn’t know how they had been treating you but it was wrong. There’s nothing wrong with you, I swear it.”

Tim sniffled, nodding absentmindedly. They gave him a moment for their words to sink in before Damian spoke up, “Timothy, I demand you tell me about your bugs.”

Jason makes a noise and elbows Damian as if to tell him to shut up, probably thinking the other was being rude, but Tim knows his brother well and just smiles. “I can do that, Dami. I… I don’t think you’ll be very interested though.”

Damian scoffs, “I will ignore that statement as it implies I would waste my time with something I don’t care for.”

Bruce smiles at his youngest and holds Tim’s hand, “I agree. Could you maybe tell us about why you like them? Or your favourites?”

It takes him a moment to respond, but when he looks at all their open expressions and gets an encouraging nod from Alfred, he stutters out a response before gradually gaining confidence as they ask genuine questions to his facts and descriptions.

They each make an effort to ask him about bugs, Jason asking a few times if he wants to check out some books that he knows use bugs as symbolism’s and Dick asking if he can tell him the difference between insects and arachnids several times. Damian and Bruce are both a bit more subtle with their support at first, but after a month Tim enters his room to find a giant terrarium with several different sections so he can have multiple bugs that might not get along with each other.

Bruce and Alfred don’t even make any comments or give disapproving looks when Dick and Jason reveal they each got a tattoo of the bug that Tim said he associates with them.

#batfam #tim drake #bat family #dc comics #batfamily #dc universe #tim drake is red robin #dc #tim drake is a menace #damian wayne #jason todd #dick grayson #alfred pennyworth #bruce wayne #autistic tim drake #bugs

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1920sladydectective · 27 days ago

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Best Friend's Mother Ch.5 5.4K

This is the penultimate chapter everybody!

Love you all, thanks for reading my things! Scroll back on this account or check AO3 for the full story! Not proofread I am tired.

Enjoy Enjoy Enjoy

Considering the events of the previous evening, you should have anticipated a ridiculous morning.

Yawning, with bleary eyes, you left your room and were confronted with a wall of wrapping paper where the top of the stairs should be. A tap to the shoulder, an antler covered Kino.

“Mystic doorway,” He mumbles, “When Mel gets here we can smash through it and Mum will be waiting in a Santa hat,”

“You’re kidding,”

“Nope,” Mel added, appearing with hazy eyes. You were feeling it too. Port was brutal.

You were permitted to do the honours. Ruining the barrier, you were met with large white footprints going down the stairs towards the living room, and Ambessa Medarda wearing a Santa hat, wolf top and tartan trousers. The others smiled fondly, the novelty long since gone, but your heart was trapped in a whimsical vice. Muffled and shocked, a giggle tumbled out. You had never experienced this. Ever.

In the living room the most ridiculous show of presents lay under and around the tree, ornately wrapped with bows and ribbons. Your eyes couldn’t stay fixed on one thing, darting around madly till they settled on the mantelpiece

Four stockings, hand knitted, hung from the aged wood. The first three initials were obvious, but the addition of your own made your throat close oddly. You were so included here and it felt wrong, all things considered. You felt a strong hand squeeze your shoulder, a warm look in older eyes.

“Seems you’ve all been good,”

“Overdone it a bit this year, Mum,” Kino snorted, taking what was clearly his spot on the floor.

“Shut up, boy,”

Her touch grounded you, body relaxing as you saw the nibbled goodies and drained port. The carrots however, were intact.

“Guess Rudolph was just fine,” Sarcasm oozed, as you munched off the end of the carrot.

Mel smiled, pulling you roughly down next to her as you were handed your stockings. Your offer of carrot was rudely rejected and you waited with bated breath to take a peek. It was heavy, and lumpy, with a toblerone resting at the top. It was all your favourites and some things far too expensive to be stocking fillers in your mind. Lipstick, chocolates and a bottle of Rum. At the very bottom, resting sadly, was a Clementine. Kino had coal.

“Why?” It was outraged, cheeks full of chocolate coins.

“Perhaps Father Christmas didn’t appreciate you refusing to help me with the Games room remodel,” It was quiet, muffled by coffee.

He threw the coal at Mel, and a brawl began. You just nibbled a piece of fudge.

It was a slow and easy start, despite the family violence, and you sat talking with Mel as you had breakfast. The order, though different to your own, had been explained. Stockings, breakfast, gifts and then a family stroll.

A full english was slapped in front of you and you grunted.

“We normally save ourselves for the Christmas dinner in my house,”

“Foolish,” Ambessa said, beheading a sausage, “That makes your stomach shrink and reduces your appetite,”

Well. Fuck you I guess. Full English then.

Back in the sitting room, each person was handed a present.

Mel gave hers out first, swirling holly and ivy concealing presents that were so her it made you laugh. A spa holiday, for the both of you, in January. Ambessa received a collection of fancy cooking utensils and Kino received a book of mazes.

“This seems like a gift to yourself, Babe,” You smiled, flicking through all the treatments she’d bought, “Will I have any body left after it's cleaned and dissolved?”

“It’ll cleanse you of all your impurities,” Her gaze darted to an obvious place.

“Gee, Thanks,”

There was lots to get through and it seemed that they had refined patience with it that you did not possess. You had never seen this many gifts at once and wanted to eviscerate them to find the treasures beneath. Kino chucked another couple things each person’s way, some from Father Christmas, some from him.

He’d only gone and bought you a real tiara. Rich people are so fucking stupid. It sat proudly on your head all the same, swarovski crystals catching the light of the tree.

“Regal, your highness,” He bowed his head, eyes crinkled with joy.

“Twat,”

Father Christmas had been generous indeed, showering you with books and clothes and trinkets. You were a bit overwhelmed, dazed fingers stroking over jumpers and shoes as the Medardas continued to rip into the mountain. A sea of wrapping paper rested over your legs, warm and shiny as Ambessa drank an unholy amount of Brandy for 11am on a Wednesday.

She chucked you a lumpy package, this one actually from her rather than her fat old man counterpart. It was a stuffed toy, a book character Tigger from Winnie the Pooh to be exact.

“What?” You said, eyes gleaming, fingers buried in fuzziness.

“You mentioned it was your favourite childhood book,” Her lips smacked together, “And if you’re any of them it’s the hyperactive orange thing with an individuality complex,”

Wow. How sweet. Fuck.

“Your hat’s falling off,” You muttered to push the warmth away, passing her the gifts you’d begrudgingly bought, “These are yours,”

Ambessa took the pile, eyes murky as you watched intently for her reaction. You still needed her to like them, to like you. Mel couldn’t expect you to fall out of love that quickly.

A rough tear, paper crumpling to reveal a blu-ray DVD. Trading Places, of course. The smile she wore changed, lips twisting as if to contain something you couldn’t see.

“My favourite,” Her tone was far away, perhaps as trapped in the memory as you became every time you entered that room.

“Still don’t know what it’s about,” A lie, you watched it repeatedly on your laptop in October, half drunk and sobbing, “Sure it’s good,”

“We’ll watch it together sometime,” Dear god you hoped not.

“Okay!” It was dismissive, that was all you had, “Next one!”

The next one in question was a Lucky cat figure who looked suspiciously like Mina, paw waving up and down rhythmically. Her laugh filled the space, hard and strong, as the lookalike summoned the feline herself.

“It is you, Little Demon,” Ambessa whispered, “She has gifted me a VooDoo doll,”

Kino snorted, snatching Mina and peppering her with kisses, “Ignore the witch, Fluff,”

The last gift from you she reacted to silently, a heavy gulp in her throat. A little, hand carved statue of three wolves snuggled in one another, babes and mother ornately preserved. Her smile winded you, watery for but a moment.

The rest of the presents passed in a blur, your pile growing seemingly higher and higher until you’d forgotten half of the things. One thing that managed to stand out was Kino’s ridiculous gift to Ambessa; apparently her 9th wolf shirt, this one covered in a howling wolf with the word ‘Alpha' in icy block lettering.

She seemed, confusingly, to favour this above all other gifts as if it were a priceless relic. Mel, bundled in a new dressing gown from Damson Madder, seemed totally unsurprised.

Thankfully, that heralded the end of the gifts, and you were all given twenty minutes to get dressed and ready for the walk. As they shuffled out of the living room, a calloused hand gripped your arm to keep you in place. Ambessa, brown envelope in hand, looked down at you.

“Everything alright?”

“This is your last gift, Dear,” The rough paper slipped into your hand, the other hand still holding your arm.

Panic. Curiosity. A fluttering, harsh pull in your stomach. “What is it?”

“Open it,” She was earnest, no teasing, eyes softer than you’d ever seen.

Doing as instructed, you pulled out several pieces of paper. Trade invoices. Heating, Foundational, Pipe, Roof, and some stuff you didn’t even understand.

“It’ll be completed by the 6th,” Honeyed words, caring, daggers to your heart, “You deserve to enjoy this holiday, and your studies, without the burden of such things,”

You were stammering, eyes cloudy with salt water, as trembling fingers moved through each document. She’d solved years of problems with the flick of an ornate wrist, a trump card of good will she was giving up wielding in favour of giving you privacy. This was no bribe, there was no motive here that you could see, she had done it just because it would help you.

Ambessa was feeling a tad dizzy. Indulgence in brandy and emotional niceties leaving her reeling. You had been perfect all morning, a cocktail of wonder and sarcasm that swirled her mind harder than any drink could. Each reaction a glance or gasp to be cherished, her chest warm as you ended up in a tidal wave of wrapping. Each moment in your presence seemed more tenuous, but she could not fight the need for her next fix. It was a cruel trick, one she deserved, the way you had seemed to curl around her spine and crush it with a grin. Each attempt to slot into Mel’s rules felt like the loss of a limb. She had lost this fight, in more ways than one.

“Ambessa,” It was a croak, the very light of the sun caught in your eyes, “Thank you!”

“No quip about presumptive rich people?” She said, thumb stroking along your forearm, “No class conscious rant?”

A giggle, more silly than you wished, as your damp eyes rolled, “You’ve just saved my life, my childhood home, that’s what you bastards should be doing,”

“Seems I’m learning yet another thing from you then,”

An embrace, rushed and harsh, to prevent the kiss dancing across your lips. She was awful and perfect and you hated her. “I’m going to go get dressed,”

She wished you wouldn’t leave, perhaps ever, to allow her to linger in the aftermath of Christmas morning when it was just you and the fire and tender, crushed skin on skin. The moment ended all the same, and she sat on her armchair with a loud grunt.

The walk was nicer than you’d anticipated, Kino and Ambessa smashing snow at each other as Mel quietly spoke in your direction. Today had felt lighter with her, some tension drained by the closeness of the night before. She’d gotten angry again, called you a few names, and nuzzled into your arms. Her grievances came in waves, as did most of her thought processes, and you didn’t mind the repetitiveness for each time you gained a small chunk back.

Which is why, as she told you about Jayce and Viktor’s new idea, you did not notice the solid mass flying towards your face. Kino stood, eyes wild, gathering another bundle.

There was war after that, plain and simple.

At quarter to two you stumbled back through the French doors, hair damp and lip quivering from cold as Ambessa tugged a triumphant Mel through the door.

“You can’t contain me just because you lost,” She growled, pulling against her mother’s hold.

You avoided the conflict, darting upstairs and diving into the hot shower with such urgency you still had your koala socks on. Fancy shampoo and conditioner pushed away the grime of the outside as your forehead lent against the cool tile. This Christmas, though only half way through, had rocked your world. Ambessa Medarda creating an almost dreamlike, unattainable level of Christmas magic seemed ridiculous. Though, you supposed, she had always been good with grandness and negligent of day to day. You hadn’t needed a summer affair to figure that out. That knowledge did nothing to banish her soft eyes from your mind, that silly bloody Santa hat frizzing up her greying curls, as she did the best thing she’d ever done for you. Fuck her. In every way. Dangerous Path. Cold water smacked you back to Christmas day.

Rictus, sweet angel that he was, had prepared everything and left it in the fridges. All you four needed to manage was timing, and you overconfidently presumed that was a sure bet. None of you, it seemed, had factored in a shitfaced game of Cluedo.

“It was Mustard, in the Library, with the pipe,” Kino spoke into a highball glass, whisky half his lifeblood at present.

“You’re Mustard, you twat,” Mel smacked him in the head, crunching a handful of twiglets.

Ambessa had long since given up engaging, lent against the sofa with a grin as she met your gaze. As an only child you were not used to any kind of bickering over board games, making this confusing and tiring in equal measure. A sparkling, unknown cocktail sat in a gin glass in front of you. Unbeknownst to you, it contained over five shots of alcohol, hidden by sweet tea and cranberry juice. You may not have known, but by God could you feel it.

A thick smokey scent wafted towards you mid gulp and hazy eyes widened.

“The turkey!” You and Mel cried, scrambling to rescue a half scorched bird.

So, it wouldn’t be the juiciest Turkey Crown you’d ever eaten, but the rest of it was salvageable. Namely because you all camped out in the kitchen from that moment onward, checking every five minutes for slowly roasting carrots and stuffing on the off chance they burnt within seconds.

Candles of ivory and emerald glittered along the table as you took your place next to Mel. Your minorly fucked up feast had been served, your blood alcohol level begging for some kind of mass to soak up the metric tonne of vodka you’d ingested. It was good, great even, and yet you felt an odd emptiness. You hadn’t missed your Dad yet, and here it came, hurtling like a freight train into your roast dinner. Pushing peas around your plate like a petulant child, you munched at your inner cheek instead.

She shouldn’t care that you weren’t eating, you were an adult and could look after yourself. Didn’t stop her own chews from slowing to halt as she scanned you. Your mouth twitched, eyes pensive, she hated it. Her eyes managed to catch yours, echoing a question and a comfort in one, heart hammering as your shoulders visibly relaxed and you ate a potato. Good. That was good.

She seemed to smell weakness in you like a shark trailing blood, though she wielded this knowledge in a nicer way now. You felt an odd puncture, perhaps a lung giving out, as she grinned at you and ate a stuffing ball.

Mel was drawing noughts and crosses in her left over gravy, your fingers fighting an equal battle in which a stalemate was always reached. The game sort of became impossible to win if both participants were over five years old, but it made you smile all the same.

5pm rolled around, and with it your Dad’s phone call. It was brief, impersonal and hollow until you reached the news about the house. He knew, of course, as it was his fucking house but you blubbered excitedly all the same. He praised you for making good connections and you frowned. God he always had to be a knob. The call ended quickly after that and you wandered into the Cinema, flopping on Mel.

“Call go okay?” Her fingers stroked hair from your face.

“He’s a penis,”

“Bailey’s Hot chocolate?” She already had a large, reindeer covered mug to offer you, cream and marshmallows floating like little life rafts.

Perhaps this was the best Christmas of your life, and perhaps that filled you with a gaping despair unlike anything you’d ever known. Ambessa collapsed next to you and Mel, pulling you in close. Always there, mending and mutilating your soul.

“Well,” She kissed Mel’s crown, “How has the day been my little wolves?”

“Good, Mum,” A loud slurp, “Best in a long time,”

“Best I’ve ever had,” You admitted, uneasy and grateful.

Both Medarda women kissed your cheek, the tactical manoeuvre from both sides crushing you.

“Thanks by the way,” It felt like too little a sentence, brain blurred.

“You are most welcome, Dear,” Ambessa gave you more soft eyes and calm grins. What the fuck did Christmas do to her?

“Play a game of Uno?” Mel interjected, the food and fizz in her system making her fidgety.

“No more games,” You whined, “Game brain is dead,”

“What then?”

“Well, I say I want to watch the Polar Express,” She pulled a blanket over her knees, yelling for Kino.

“He’s out cold, food coma,” You muttered.

“Little shit, he avoids this film every year,”

“He doesn’t like Tom Hanks, Mum,”

“And that’s my problem, why?”

“Because you’re asking him to watch a film starring Tom Hanks?” You snipped obnoxiously.

Ambessa immediately withheld the Celebrations tin she had been offering, smacking your fingers to drop the Twix, “Sarcastic children don’t get mini chocolates,”

Mel munched happily on a Mars bar, your title of golden child stolen.

Christmas came to a close slowly, the day fluttering shut in time with your weary eyelids. Your room was piled with things, but only Tigger made it to your bed. His inquisitive eyes seemed to know exactly how you felt about his giver, and you had to shove his face into your shoulder.

“Shut up,” You slurred, to an inanimate object like a normal person, “I’ve got a good thing going here, she won’t ruin it,”

“Sure she won’t,” Tigger answered. Fuck, okay you were already asleep.

Boxing Day passed in a blur, as did the dateless, insignificant days that led to New Year’s Eve. The new, slippery dance continued. Mel watched your interactions with her mother less, shoulders settling slightly, though a sharpness remained when you weren’t looking.

New Year’s Eve arrived, and with it Another Bloody Party (shocker).

“How can you be surprised?” Mel muttered, tugging on your hair, “You said yourself this is all rich people do,”

“It’s different living it Babe,” You grumbled, “It’s exhausting, how do you manage?”

“Oh, well I-”

“Oh that’s right, none of you have jobs,”

The heat of the curling iron became intimately acquainted with your ear. Mel kissed it better, sarcastically, as she finished the curl. “I have a job,”

“Uh..no you don’t,”

“Well I will when uni’s over,” Mel muttered, “I’ll make a name for myself,”

“Is that name Medarda?” You really needed to stop antagonising the person holding the hot rod of metal to your skull.

One thing was different this time round and that was the host. The Kirammans hosted New Year’s annually apparently, the party larger than even Ambessa’s summer barbeque. Having not yet had the privilege of seeing a different large house, you experienced shock and awe anew. It was more regal than Ambessa’s home, ornate marbles mingling with old tiling. It felt sterner in a way, though its occupants were far from that. Like a scene in a film, limousines flooded in and out, showcasing tottering heels and tailored suits.

“Now,” Ambessa’s voice was a whispered grumble, “Best behaviour, I don’t want you lot embarrassing me,”

Your face contorted, as did theirs, “What?”

“I’m joking darlings,” She squeezed you all, “I don’t give a shit about these people,”

“Said that rather loud, Mum,” Kino quipped.

“Intentional, sweet boy,”

Newness danced in every corner, Cait ready to grab you and shove her into every decorated crevice of her house. Cassandra Kiramman was far more blunt about keeping your group out of the way than Ambessa, gifting a whole wing of the house to your antics. There stood possibly every person aged 20-26 that Caitlyn had ever looked at in her life. Your inner circle were lounging, glittery and already a bit pissed, around a fucking conversation pit sofa. An actual, real inbuilt one. Nothing mattered for the two hours or so, cocktails and canapes shoved down you as you listened to Ekko explaining some physics thing that made you feel like an Egyptian having their brain removed.

A girl, tanned with glossy blonde hair, had been making eyes at you for the better part of an hour and you were beginning to crumble under the pressure. She was hot, sure, but she wasn't her. Though, another few glasses down, you realised that might be a good thing.

“Talk to her,” Viktor whispered, poking you in the side with his cane. Jayce showed his enthusiastic agreement through a scotch egg, making himself choke.

Your version of the heimlich manoeuvre was to smack him as Ekko did the actual heimlich, before swaying up to the pretty girl batting her lashes.

To say she was bored would have been the understatement of the century for Ambessa. Cassandra was less prone to recreational drugs and sordid corners, leaving her to discuss carpet swatches with Jayce’s mother. She was a kind woman, entirely not to Ambessa’s taste and the removal of the youngsters meant she couldn’t bother you. Or watch you from across every damn room you existed in. There wasn’t enough Moet to drown out the drivel and by quarter to eleven she was slinking away to find her drunk children.

Cadence, you had learned her name was, was an angel. Bubbly, bright and tipsy, she made for a fantastic conversation partner. It was lame to ponder how you hadn’t even considered anyone other than Ambessa romantically, so you let her touch your arm fondly and press herself into your side on the armchair. She studied psychology at Durham and would soon be going to America for a work placement. What’s the psychology of searching for your best friend’s mother in every crowded room, you wondered? She was talking your ear off when your eyes found the very woman in your mind.

Ambessa did not feel angry. It was a slight twinge, too much carbonation, a high pitched thrum against her sternum. What a pretty little blonde, all cosied close and eating up all your attention. How lovely for you. This is what parties were for, a fantastic meet cute to tell the grandkids. Shut up. Your face was relaxed, glossy lips parted in an easy smile. It wasn’t the same as the smile she caused of course, less genuine, less involuntary. She could tell, there wasn’t the slightest twitch to your cheek, and your posture was distant, eyes elsewhere. Eyes on..oh. Eyes on her. A slow wave, pulling her smile from you as you attempted poorly to split focus. You looked sinful, lent against a leather armchair with smooth, soft legs crossed. Images flashed through Ambessa, her head between your thighs as your nails gripped the leather for dear life or you curled in her lap rambling as she peppered your face with lipsticked kisses. A half hearted swallow, her mind a desperate tailspin of lust, jealousy and the unnamed other. Her hand rose slightly, golden eyes drilling into you as a hand began to subtly call you over.

Sharp, angry nails sliced into her wrist, killing the summons.

Mel stood, a sickly smile on her face, crushing her mother’s wrist.

“Hello, Dear,” Ambessa smiled, fighting the twitch of her brow, “Was coming looking for you little wolves,”

“Can you come to the loo with me,” Mel said, tipsy slur in her voice, “These heels are fucking my ankles,”

WIth a nod, taking most of her body weight, she wandered off to the bathroom with her daughter. It was dark blue, much like the kitchen and the library and the Kiramman child’s hair, causing a giggle from Ambessa.

Once the heavy metal lock clinked shut, she lent against the door with her eyes averted. Several beats passed with no noise save their breath.

“Are you going to piss or what child?”

“What the fuck is your problem?” Sadness, fury, resentment all rolled into one. Her beautiful hair was a halo for her anger, body a brick wall of frustration.

“Excuse me?” It was a scoff, muscled arms crossed, “Did I not help you here?”

“Why won’t you leave her alone, Mum,” Mel stood toe to toe with her, dark eyes blazing, “She’s listened and tried and is taking all the shit I give her, but you,”

A lecture was coming, stormy and vicious, one Ambessa may not survive. Here she thought it was girly toilet bonding time. No, you had interloped into another part of her life.

“You,” She repeated, “Continue on like she’s one of your little things, like I haven’t said anything at all,”

“I resent that,” Ambessa said, frown on her lips, “I’ve been civil and supportive, but distant just like you asked,”

“Distant in the way the iceberg was to the Titanic,” Mel snapped, swaying slightly. “Do you want to destroy her? Destroy me?”

“Mel, I-”

“I gave you rules for a reason, and you just don’t give a shit, do you?” Her hands were waving about wildly now, “You can’t bear being told no, respecting boundaries, listening to others,”

“I thought I was doing as you asked, Child,” Her words were thunderous, form shaking with a terror Mel could not see. She was too close for comfort, a dog sniffing a trail she did not want followed.

“Bullshit!” Mel’s thoughts were a slurry, a piece of the puzzle missing, “You gaze at her in every room, you touch her whenever you can, you steal any time with her you can get and-”

“That is enough,” Her lungs were beginning to ache, palms sweaty, “I do not need to be lectured by you again over insecure, inflated claims,”

“You don’t get to tell me to be quiet, Mother,” She spat, “Explain yours-” Oh. Oh. Everything stilled, the picture shifting till it clicked. She had all the pieces, of course she did, she’d just confused a middle piece for a harmless corner component.

Ambessa’s relief at her daughter’s sudden silence was crushed like a nut between a novelty nutcracker.

“You’re in love with her,” Check.

“I-” She had named it before even Ambessa could, damned insufferable child, always too clever for her own good, her resistance a very confirmation “How ridiculous,” And Mate.

Mel’s body shook with mirth, “You fell in love with my best friend,”

“You are drunk and far more stupid than I gave you credit for,”

“So what if I am drunk,” Her movements were looser now, “I’m right and You’re scared,”

“I don’t get scared,”

“I would have agreed, twenty minutes ago, but now?” Mel’s eyes met the minute tremor in her mother’s hands.

Ambessa’s hand grips the cold, golden lock, body turning away as she let out an angry grunt.

A repetition, cold and grounding, halted her “You fell in love with my best friend”

It felt so lovely to hear, to know, to feel. Awful to examine, gutting her like a prize salmon. This was the worst evening of Ambessa Medarda’s life. She was at odds here, pulled in terrible directions. The horrible, sordid truth was undeniable, complicating a messy story by adding an Act Three twist of predictable but no less epic proportions. Her daughter’s eyes were steady and stern despite her sway, any battle she put forward dissolving into sparks against Mel’s measured smile. Vulnerability was the only way forward, resistance gone, a mother’s love twisting her tongue towards painful truths, “I-I didn’t plan to, darling,”

It fell on deaf ears, “And she is in love with you right back,”

“Unfortunately,” Ambessa choked, body tight.

Mel sat precariously on the bathtub, pulling a miniature from between her boobs and downing it, “This simplifies things,”

“It does?”

A loud knock, and indistinct whining from behind the door.

“Fuck off, There are twenty two toilets in this house” Mel shouted, flicking the empty bottle into the tiny bin, before turning back to her, “And yes, yes it does,”

“Do enlighten me,” She snarked, wondering if she could magically summon tequila from her own chest.

“Love I can begrudgingly figure out, it matters,” Her teeth kissed her tongue, “But what do you offer her?”

“Sorry?” Words were precious currency to Ambessa at present, unable to grapple with the situation she had stumbled into.

“She makes you an infinitely better person, whilst assimilating to your lifestyle,” A heavy breath, “But you’re an older, emotionally impotent bitch with a history of ruining every romantic relationship you’ve ever been in,”

Jesus fucking Christ. “Are you hazing me in the Kiramman’s bathroom about my eligibility?”

“Yes,” Mel quipped, “Someone has to, if you’re going to start dating,”

“I never said I have any intention of doing such a thing,” Ambessa growled, “She’s over twenty years my junior, and your friend,”

A giggle, “You didn’t give a shit about either of those things when you were fucking her,”

“Well that’s,”

“Different, is it? Why?”

“This is ridiculous, I don’t have to listen to this,”

“You do, if you want to keep a relationship with me,”

“Are you going to lord that over my head for the rest of my life?” A crimson sneer deepened, “Isn’t it tiresome?”

“What’s tiresome is you being avoidant,” Mel glared at her, arms crossing, “Selfish? Manipulative? Common tools of the Medarda trade, but this cowardly denial is embarrassing,”

“I am not a coward,” It was a sudden burst, body rushing forward to meet hers.

“Prove it then, you idiot,” A nail stabbed into Ambessa’s chest, “Prove that it’s real, that you can offer her more than money and sex,”

“But why?” Her mouth was dry, “What’s your goal here?”

“I want to see you happy,” She sighed, level gaze eating Ambessa’s soul, “The woman before me is entirely new, better than I thought possible, if it takes encouraging this to keep her then I’ll write your damn love notes for you,”

“We are not having this conversation now,” Sense returned, sludgy and damp, dirtied by her emotions, “We will have it sober, at some point tomorrow,”

“You’re not pushing this away,” The nail dug deeper, “It’s now or never, tell me why I should let you date my best friend,”

Ambessa’s mind was a dark red blanket of rage and panic, hand crushing around her daughter’s wrist, “What do you want from me?”

“Say anything!”

“Like WHAT? Like I miss the weight of her on my chest as I sleep, the relief of knowing she’s safe,” She was shaking, a furious animal fighting against a certain fate, “Or th-that she makes me want to be the better version of myself that she sees, just to keep that smile on her stupid, soft fucking face,”

Mel’s hand moved upwards and reached out, a tender stroke on her mother’s cheek, “Perfect, Mum,”

With that it seemed she had deemed the interaction over, leaving her stunned and rabid as she slipped out of the blue room in search of Jayce, or Viktor, or most likely both.

You were struggling to socialise now, brain lagging against the alcohol and noise, longing for the quiet weed fuelled haze of the Medarda games room. Cadence had clocked your distant lack of interest before you did, wandering off and leaving you with a rambling Powder. Her and Ekko truly were a match made in heaven. It was nearly midnight and the party was so vibrant your eyes ached.

Time to hide, time to be anti-social. Nobody to kiss, nobody you wanted to anyway.

Confusing corridors, long and ornate, as you slipped under a secluded marble staircase. Deep, soothing breaths, the darker lighting a balm.

Ambessa found that splashing her face with cold water was doing absolutely nothing. A dam she could not rebuild had burst and it was merciless, yearning for one thing and one thing alone. You were a siren, sent to kill her, sent to punish her. You were an angel, her salvation. Uncertain steps stormed out of the room, wandering aimlessly towards the party.

The countdown, though far away now, was as audible as if Vi was screaming in your ear.

What an odd year to be seeing the back of, everything changed and everything the same.

Glitter coated your skin as you made your resolution, firm and sure.

You would move on from Ambessa Medarda, even if it killed you. She would not follow you into this new chapter.

You emptied your champagne glass, peace settling in you.

Ambessa flung the door open, hinges trembling, as she looked down the long corridor.

Countdown time already? How long had she spent in that fucking bathroom?

The fabric of her trousers swished as she slipped towards the staircase, seeking a darker solace.

A resolution, a stupid tradition, a propeller forward. She would tell you how she felt, even if it killed her.

Shocked eyes lock, room spinning, dark alcove shielding them from reality.

Time slows. A war fought valiantly, lost to the hazy fog. Clashing, hungry, yearning lips. Red on smooth gloss. Hair tugged, breath stolen.

Happy New Year!

#reader insert #ambessa medarda #ambessa x reader #arcane ambessa #arcane #ambessa smut

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webslingingslasher · 11 months ago

Text

Care less

for the frat!peter girlies.

Peter blames his aunt.

May went and raised him to look forward to the middle of february. She would make little boxes and handwritten notes tied up with a fun-sized candy bar. May told him it was a day to celebrate love in its entirety. For a friend, for a teacher, for just the sake of love existing everywhere you went.

Except, not everyone likes valentine's day. Some even hate it. Some would loathe the day so much that Peter feels like an idiot for caring. Dinner reservations that were going to be ignored, flowers that would go wilted and chocolates that were never going to get eaten.

Peter has a handful of nothing and the one time he really wanted to outperform himself, it was brushed off and it was his aunt’s fault for getting his hopes up about valentine’s day. He had been so thoughtful too, planning weeks ahead to book a dinner slot and a fun date. Not to mention the mini fortune he spent on roses, not that you were a giant fan of roses but every girl deserves a bouquet on valentine’s, even if they triple in price. Peter even bought a second bunch of your favorite kind, just to prove he cared.

It meant nothing. His efforts meant nothing and maybe he shouldn’t have assumed, but he never thought that you’d hate the holiday. It was a day entirely built around feelings, around love- and you just rolled your eyes at him.

“I fucking hate valentine’s day.” You said it like it was nothing, taking two bites of a banana and handing it over to Peter. He asked if you were excited, maybe even hinting at that you should be excited. Peter Parker was about to romance the hell out of you. But not anymore.

“Explain that one for me?” A toss, the peel falls into the trash can. You shrug as if you’ve never thought about it before, but it’s something you’ve held in your chest for as long as you can remember.

“It was a holiday created by girls who didn’t feel loved enough by their boyfriends, or something. I think the practice is stupid, you should treat me good and do nice things for me everyday, not just once a year. And everything is crowded! Everyone has the same lame idea about dinner and a movie and flowers and… it’s just not something I buy into.”

Peter feels every bit of him curl up and die inside. Valentines is his third favorite holiday, he adores the pinks, reds, and purples. He loves seeing couples of every stage, the beginning stages or lifelong partners. They all love the same; with everything in them.

“Well, actually, I do have a confession. Chocolate covered strawberries. They’re outrageously expensive, but I buy them every year. If you’re wondering, I was hoping we could boycott the baby holiday and eat some strawberries or something.”

A small lift in his heart, it’s something. You’d be happy with one thing and he could deliver that, but first he has to try and sway you, right? Peter needs to preach what valentine’s is about, he needs you to understand how lovely it is.

“I’m surprised you hate it so much. I figured you’d love it, since it’s pink and feelings, and stuff.” You wink at him, you think it’s a joke and Peter’s in the same boat as you. “I know, right? It always seemed so gimmicky to me, I think.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s bad.” You pretend gag, Peter feels his heart sink into the hollow of his chest. “You’re right, it’s cringy and that makes it so much worse.” Peter doesn’t agree, not even in the slightest. Nothing about it is cringy, there’s nothing embarrassing about showing you love someone.

“Right. It’s cringy and a gimmick and everyone who participates is stupid.” Maybe he’s a little cynical, it hits harder when you nod with exaggeration. “So glad you agree, petey!” He doesn’t. Peter couldn’t be further away from your opinion but he’s really not in the mood to be shut down or judged, so, he just changes the subject and tries to ignore everything crumbling apart in the back of his mind.

“Isn’t this cute?”

You squint your eyes when you read the card, a tiny smile shows. “It’s cute. Not worth…” You snatch the glorified cardstock and flip it, your eyes widen, you pretend to choke on the dollar amount. “Ten dollars, holy shit. For some glitter? Fuck that.”

You want it out of your hold, scared that if even a speckle spread you’d be forced to buy it. “What happened to the good old days of making your own card? My mom used to eat that up.”

Peter delicately sets the card down, he tries to see it how you do, but he can’t. Sure, it’s wildly marked up, but wouldn’t your partner be worth the price? Peter would buy the moon for you if he could, a ten dollar Hallmark card won’t be his holdup.

But, maybe you’d like a handmade one more. He can do that.

Peter’s trying to be mindful of your opinion while also planting the seed that valentine’s isn’t all that bad into your brain. It’s days away and all he can hear in the back of his mind is ‘I fucking hate valentine’s day.’

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Peter- do you fucking see this?”

A romantic gesture? A public display of love and admiration? Dozens of carefully inflated heart shaped balloons? A girl crying into the arms of her friend while her partner showers her with flowers. Is it the love? Is that what you’re pointing out?

“Yeah, it’s-”

“Disgusting.”

“-cute.” Peter frowns, is that what you really thought of valentines? Nothing was swaying your mind, Peter thinks that you’re more solidified in your mindset than before.

“I’m sorry, trouble, but I’m finding it hard believing you hate valentine’s day.” It’s like he just called you a slur, you pull your hand from his and stuff it into your jacket pocket.

“I don’t hate it, I loathe it. What do you see watching that? Personally, I’m seeing gravel covered flowers and wasted space that turns into deflated balloons. Fuck that.” Peter shakes his head, you’re seeing it wrong. “It’s about the gesture.”

“It’s about how you love someone so much, there aren't enough things in the world to buy to show it, and there are never the right set of words to say it quite right. I’ll buy all the flowers in the world for you, and I’ll use all the air in my lungs for these balloons but it’ll never match the love I have for you.”

Peter clears his throat. “That's what I see, anyways. I think valentine’s day is an excuse to be a little cringy and basic because we all want that sometimes.” He might’ve finally broken through, but you crack a grin and bump your shoulder into his.

“Ah, yes, because I’m so unfulfilled that a man has never gotten me a teddy bear for valentine’s day.” Would you want one? He could get you one. Or could that be a reason you might detest the holiday, not that he’d ever take your opinion for resentment or bitterness.

“Have you ever had a valentine?” A small stumble, your hand is tied into his again. “Besides elementary, nah. And honestly, I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.”

‘I should be happy so I don’t have to deal with all that stuff.’ But, now you do, don’t you?

“Trouble, you do realize you’re my valentine this year, right? And I’m yours?” You feel your breath catch, no, you hadn’t realized. It’s always just been another day for you and you assume the same for Peter, it’s not like there was much to celebrate.

“It’s also just a day that ends in Y.” Is that really the answer you have? It’s just another day to you, even if you finally have someone to claim? You might not care about the holiday, but Peter does and he’s going to get his valentine’s day, no matter what.

And you’re going to enjoy a handmade card.

And a teddy bear.

Peter’s finger-combing his hair after a shower, he’s had the reservation for weeks, but he also wasn’t aware of your detestment towards red hearts and arrows.

“Wanna grab some dinner wednesday?” If he didn’t say it by name he’s hoping you won’t scream bloody mary on him. “Sure.” A smile washes over Peter’s face, it drops in a second. “Wait, isn’t that valentine’s day? Ha, yeah, no thank you. You, me, and the entire city? Fuck that.”

‘Fuck that, fuck that, fuck that.’ Weeks boiled into nothing. “But, if you wanna cuddle and watch a movie I’m down.” It’s something. He’d get to give you flowers and a card and a teddy bear and he can’t forget the strawberries. You told him you loved them.

“Good with me, trouble.”

Peter tried to sway your mind, he tried to make you enjoy the love and glitter and colors. But you hated it all. So all he has to do is ditch the flowers and the dinner and just… do nothing.

Peter’s first real valentine and all he has to do is… nothing.

Three rose bouquets tossed onto his closet floor, it was haphazardly done. Petals scattered around the cellophane, some even reached to his shoes. They were thrown in without care, they were hidden.

But they were beautiful. A few front buds have taken a beating, but the others were fully blossomed and lively. You’ve never seen roses in such a vivid red, their petals almost like velvet under your fingertips, their smell unlike any other.

The thorns have been expertly shredded, nothing but smooth, soft stems in their wake. It doesn’t matter if Peter didn’t mean to have you see them, they were too gorgeous to leave locked away in a dark room. They deserved the affection water and sunlight would give them.

You clutched all three in your arms, the weight welcomed. You laid them out nicely across his bed, the third bouquet dropped a small card and you picked it right back up.

‘Trouble-

This day was made for you.

Charlie’s at 8.

Yours,

Peter’

You bit back a smile. Charlie’s? It’s nice, too nice. And expensive. Peter got you reservations at Charlie’s? Holding the card to your chest you nearly squeal, you have no idea how he kept the secret from you. Or the roses.

When you hear his bedroom door open you spin, waiting for him to be in the doorway so you can place a thousand kisses. Instead it’s Ethan and he looks surprised. “You’re here?” He points to the flowers, “Peter gave you those?”

“I found them in his closet, he just tossed them in here! And he must’ve forgotten to tell me about Charlie’s.” Ethan doesn’t smile with you, he’s not sharing any joy. For a second you start to wonder if you were the person who was supposed to receive the gifts.

“He didn’t forget.” You scrunch your face at him, “I think he did and I need to start getting ready now. Ethan, do you know how nice Charlie’s is? It’s fucking fancy.” You’re not prepared, you don’t have anything that screams Charlie’s worthy in Peter’s closet.

“No, you’re not hearing me. There is no Charlie’s and there weren't supposed to be roses. I was supposed to get them before you got here, but, here we are. No roses and no Charlie’s.” You smack at his arms, pulling at his fingers to drop your flowers.

“They’re mine!” Ethan’s on a mission to steal them, and he’s not being gentle.

“No, you didn’t want them.”

You watch him for a second, how could he say that, of course you want them. Thirty six reminders of Peter, how could you ever say no? You fight for what's yours, Ethan allows you to keep one bouquet.

“I do want them!”

Ethan’s not being nice to you tonight, he’s gruff with his response. “No. You didn’t.’

“You keep saying didn’t! I never said I didn’t want…”

Except you did. Just like you said you didn’t want to get dinner with Peter. You feel terrible, you feel like crying. He’d had this planned for weeks and the whole time all you did was poke fun and degrade the holiday not knowing you were crushing him behind the scenes.

You wanted the flowers, but you didn’t deserve them. You hand over the last bouquet silently.

“I think it’s best if you pretend you didn’t see these.” You can’t imagine the ache Peter must have in his chest, he planned something out just for you to stomp all over it. It’s not about the value, it was the gesture. He can’t tell you how he feels, but taking you out to one of the nicest places in the city, where you know it has a month minimum reservation list makes you understand him just a little bit better.

“This is so bad, Ethan. This is so,” you suck in air, “so bad.”

“It’s not terrible,” a crinkle when he shifts weight. “But it’s not great.” You wince, if you could, you’d go back in time and shove your foot in your mouth, or tell yourself to shut the fuck up.

“Well, I mean, what the fuck?! It’s fucking Peter! How was I supposed to know he was pro valentines day?”

“How was he supposed to know you were anti valentines day?”

You sink to the bed and hold your head in your hands, “I just want Peter right now.” You want to hug him and kiss him and tell him how sorry you were. Ethan hesitates for a second, before stepping closer to lay the flowers across your lap.

“You found them. They’re yours.” You protect them from being taken, but still have self-pity. “I don’t deserve them.” Ethan scoffs, “of course you do. Everyone deserves pretty flowers.”

You pout at yourself in the mirror and fix any smudges. Brushing out any stray wrinkles your newest dress might’ve made on the way over. Ethan had very kindly instructed a pledge to pick you up an outfit so you could change before Peter got back.

With minutes to spare, he’s back and taking a deep breath at your appearance. “Wow.” A surprised hum when you kiss him, you wipe red from his bottom lip while you apologize. “I’m so sorry, petey.”

“For what?” A look around the room, red roses give him the reason. “Oh. Hey, it’s no big deal and I-” A frown when you silence him by holding a finger to his lips.

“I’m sorry. I found those flowers and all I could think about was you and how much it meant to me that you got those for me, then I saw the card and I couldn’t believe you got us reservations and I just felt… special. I’ve never had a valentine, but I get it now. It’s just a day you get to dote on me extra hard.”

Another surprise kiss, “and if you didn’t already cancel I think we can get to Charlie’s on time. But if you did, that’s okay. Because I think those are the most lovely flowers I have ever gotten, and I might have seen a little teddy bear in there but I didn’t wanna get too presumptuous.”

This time, Peter kissed you. “There’s also a homemade card.”

“You didn’t!” You fall in closer to his chest, his hands can have free reign tonight, you wore the dress just for him.

“I did. I even wrote a little poem.”

A chaste kiss, “just when I think you can’t get better.”

“There’s also glow in the dark mini golf planned for after.” A peck, “so thoughtful and handsome.”

A whisper, he’s got blown pupils and hoping he’d get another kiss. “And your strawberries are in the fridge.”

Your hearts about to explode, “fuck, I love-” you stop yourself, but you heard it and so did Peter. He brushes it off, “love?” Fuck it, you’ll both keep circling around it.

“Yeah, I love love.”

A hungry kiss, a squeeze to the back of your thighs. “Yeah, I love love, too.”

#frat!peter blurbs #peter parker blurb #peter parker x reader #peter parker fluff #uni extras

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crypticminx · 1 year ago

Text

Enemies to lovers au ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

Felix Catton was a popular student body that seemed so utterly artificial to you.

From his lean, supermodel like body to his outrageous facial piercing and even his ridiculously expensive clothes—everything seemed to irk you to no end.

Even the man’s whole life and every teeny bit of information you heard from gossip sounded like something that sprung from an unrealistic movie.

What made it even worse was his attitude, one that wasn’t too far off from the cocky cliche types you had no patience for in high school.

While you would sit and mind your own business, your mind attentively focused on the information in your textbook, you’d see him happily stroll on by—his hand always intertwined with a girls, of course. It almost infuriated you how those girls would chase him around like love sick puppies, a poor character trait on their part.

There were so many other men on campus, but only one Felix and that was the problem.

Felix this and Felix that, couldn’t you escape him for just one second?

It appeared not, as when you found yourself smoking a cigarette to escape the party filled atmosphere for a quick minute on the balcony of a flat, which belonged to someone’s name you didn’t even know, in walked the man himself.

“Got a light?” he asked you, interrupting the peace that was supposed to be your only moment of freedom from the obnoxious drunks inside.

Taking a minute to observe his flushed face, a result of one too many beers, you hesitantly handed your lighter to him after fetching it from your purse.

“Thanks,” he mumbled, taking a few clumsy seconds to light the cigarette poking through his lips.

In perfect unison, you both painfully stood in silence, keeping your distance from each other as nicotine would slowly trail down both yours and his throat and release with each exhale. The two of you creating quite the cloud of foggy smoke.

“I’ve seen you around, y’kno,” he took a small drag, gently tapping off the ash growing on his cigarette.

If this was his way of starting a conversation as an attempt to bring you home with him, he was doing a miserable job.

“I’ve seen you too,” you replied, sounding disinterested as you continued to face the distance ahead as opposed to Felix.

“Always got your head in a book, drinking beer by yourself,” he slowly dragged his feet as he circled around you. “…giving me dirty looks whenever you have the chance.” You couldn’t see it, but you knew he had to be sporting one hell of an arrogant grin.

No, he wasn’t trying to take you home, he was flat out insulting you.

Rolling your eyes with a disdainful expression, you tossed the remaining cigarette to the stone cold ground, crushing its entirety in one stomp.

Okay, if he wanted to play this game, so be it.

“What’s your point,” you questioned him with hostility, feeling your blood boil when his face was sporting the exact look you pictured it to.

“My point is,” he swallowed, his structured jaw clenching, “even with all the drinking I’ve done, I can sense you don’t like me.”

You found it comical, not even ten minutes with him and he was getting to all the nitty gritty. You absolutely pitted any girl who spent more than twenty minutes with him. you could probably name a few.

“And do I need to like you, Felix?” You inched yourself closer to him, not caring if you crossed some sort of stupid boundary that was created between the two of you.

“No no, of course not darling,” he shook his head while you cringed at the subtle name calling. “But nobody likes a bitch.”

Oh, he was a fucking piece of—

“However, you’re the fine exception.”

Your eyes squinted with confusion, finding yourself surprised that you weren’t about the cuss the tall man out. Instead, pure tranquility roamed through your composure as your mouth didn’t budge.

“What if I kissed you?” He interrogated you, his voice was loud and serious, not one ounce of alcohol collided with his system to say the things that flew out of him. “Would you still dislike me then?”

“Excuse me?” You aggressively spat out, starting to feel more frustrated than full of your previous rage.

“I said, what if I—“

“I heard you!” you profoundly interrupted him, coming to your senses that all your douchey assumptions about him were right.

“Wait,” he called out, almost sounding desperate like he had some good point to be made.

You refused to let this silly conversation continue for any second longer. Dashing straight for the the door, but one swift tap of your shoulder and suddenly you found your back against the brick wall and Felix’s lean arms alarmingly barricading you from exiting.

“I also know that you’ve got the highest grade in our lit class.”

Great, so he was gonna make some joke out of that too.

“And when I read your work that was on display, I found myself in love with how beautiful your writing was.”

It was a simple assignment. A poem based on a classic Shakespeare play, you just happened to have chose a midnight summers dream. Felix’s favourite.

“You….,” confused eyes scanned him up and down as you tried to picture him reading any sort of literature, “like poetry?”

“I like pretty girls who can write,” he flashed a confident smirk before his body mindlessly pushed him to do something he hopefully wouldn’t regret.

He leaned his tall frame down to the perfect level of letting his lips slowly embrace yours. The second you felt the softness from them, you wanted to pull away with all your might, but a weak part of you felt curiosity win you over.

As his tongue danced away with yours in circles upon circles, the taste didn’t stench of alcohol. Instead there was some sort of sweetness to it, something that made it all seem worthwhile.

Closing your eyes in an amused way of defeat, you savoured the moment from the long kiss. Soaking up his touch that maybe felt too alluring once his hands smoothly made way to your hips. You could feel the ambience of enjoyment twinkling it’s way in the air and you wondered how the hell you got here.

Felix was as good of a kisser as he was an asshole.

Breaking free from a passionate kiss turned make-out, you witnessed a side of Felix that almost made every negative aspect of him vanish from the depths of your mind. You trailed back to the very feeling that was his lips on yours and you wanted to possibly continue as you noticed Felix looked just as stunned as you.

Until—

“Felix, mate,” a man with piercing blue eyes and dark locks popped his head out the door, looking at the two of you dusting yourselves off while trying hide your sheer content that sprouted in the form of rosy cheeks. Luckily, his pal didn’t seem to pay any sort of mind. After all, this was typical Felix behaviour.

“Been looking for ya, get your ass inside and have a shot with me!”

“Duty calls,” Felix whispered in your ear, holding your soft hand for a quick second before letting go, even though it was clear he didn’t want to.

As he was about to part ways from you, he stopped before he turned to you for one last time before the two of you would go your separate ways into the long night ahead.

“See you around, if you’re not too busy with all your books.” He blew you a cheesy kiss.

You didn’t say anything to his antics, instead you tossed him your final smile, while on the inside, you were squealing with foreign joy.

Fetching another cigarette to help you process what just happened, maybe he wasn’t so bad after all…

#saltburn #felix catton #felix catton x you #felix catton x reader #felix catton x y/n #jacob elordi #saltburn 2023 #felix catton fanfic #oliver quick #barry keoghan

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crazerk · 7 days ago

Note

Im thinking that when my mc gets shown to our husband along with the other new concubines he sees a thin rope around her ankle and asks why is she tied and the servants try carefully telling him I already tried to run away two times as I was a slave

Lol. This scene probably won’t appear in the books but it was fun to think about so I made a little drabble.

You stand in a line like a prized horse at auction, head bowed in proper deference as the shah makes his way down the row of girls, preening for his attention. You can feel the weight of his presence even before he reaches you, like the heaviness in the air before a storm. The silk rope around your ankle feels impossibly conspicuous, despite Orgion's attempts to arrange your skirts to hide it.

The soft whisper of expensive robes against marble grows closer. Then silence. You can see the edge of his shadow falling across the floor before your feet, can sense his stillness as he pauses.

"Why is this one bound?"

His voice is quieter than you'd expected, touched with something that might be curiosity or might be disapproval. You keep your eyes fixed on the floor, though every instinct screams at you to look up, to see the face of the man who now owns your fate.

You hear Orgion clear his throat delicately. "Ah, your majesty... there have been some... difficulties with compliance." The chief eunuch's usual unctuous tone has taken on a nervous edge. "Two attempts at... unauthorized departure, thus far."

"Two?" There is definitely curiosity now, and something else – a hint of amusement? "In less than a week?"

"The first was during her initial examination, your majesty. She... ah... managed to evade the guards and make it as far as the outer courtyard before she was intercepted."

"And the second?"

"Yesterday morning. She had somehow acquired a set of servant's robes and very nearly made it to the kitchens. If one of the cooks hadn't recognized her..."

You fight to keep your face neutral, though your cheeks burn at having your failures laid bare. You hadn't even made it to the actual palace gates. Some great escape artist you're turning out to be.

"Look at me."

The command is soft but unmistakable. You hesitate for a heartbeat, then slowly raise your head.

The shah is younger than you'd expected, though his eyes hold a weight that goes beyond his years. They're an unusual color – not quite brown, not quite gold, but something in between that seems to shift in the light filtering through the high windows. His face is all elegant angles, with high cheekbones and a strong jaw that speaks of his foreign blood. But it's his expression that catches you off guard – not anger or offense at your defiance, but something that looks almost like recognition.

"Interesting," he says softly, more to himself than to you. Then, to Orgion: "Remove the rope."

"Your majesty?" The chief eunuch's voice rises slightly in alarm. He gaze bounces from you to the shah. "I must advise against—"

"Remove it." There is steel beneath the quiet now. "We are not savages, to keep our women in bonds."

"As you wish, your majesty." Orgion gestures sharply to one of the attending servants, who hurries forward to untie the silk cord.

You feel the rope fall away from your ankle, but you don't dare move. He is still watching you with that strange, measuring look.

"Tell me," he says, "what would you have done if you'd made it to the gates?"

The question catches you by surprise. You should lie, you know – make up some story about missing your family, play the part of the frightened girl who just wants to go home. But something in those unusual eyes compels honesty.

"I would have run," you say simply. "As far and as fast as I could."

A spark of something that might be approval flickers across his face. "And now?"

"Now?" You meet his gaze squarely. "I suppose I'll have to find other ways to escape."

Orgion makes a strangled sound of outrage. "Your majesty, you see how intractable she is! Perhaps if we were to—"

"Enough." Kaz's voice cut through the eunuch's protests like a blade. He turns to face Orgion fully, and though his tone remains quiet, there is no mistaking the anger beneath it. "Let me be very clear. These women are not animals to be leashed and caged. They are members of my household, and they will be treated with the dignity their position demands." His eyes flick to the discarded rope. "If I ever see another concubine bound like a common criminal, you will answer to me personally. Do I make myself understood?"

Orgion's face has gone pale. He bows so low his forehead nearly touched the floor. "Yes, your majesty. Of course, your majesty. I only thought—"

"You thought wrong." Kaz's gaze sweeps the room, taking in the other officials and attendants. "The same goes for all of you. These women are under my protection. Remember that."

He studies you for a moment longer, then the corner of his mouth curves up slightly. "You might want to avoid the kitchens in the future. The head cook has an unusually good memory for faces."

You stare after him, unsure whether you've just made a terrible mistake or somehow passed a test you hadn't known you were taking. But as you watch him move on to inspect the other girls, you could have sworn you saw a flash in his eye, of barely concealed mirth.

#cotgr #kaz #mc #answered #asks

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santaasi · 9 months ago

Text

VIOLENCE

pairing: boxer!jj maybank x gf!reader

summary: jj maybank wants to put the whole world at her feet, but the only way he knows in this life is violence

warnings: angst, a lil bit of fluff, (kinda) violent behavior, some language, no use of y/n, jj calls reader kitten, english isn’t my first language

word count: 4.7k

a/n: this work was originally conceived as a small drabble with a maximum of 1.5k words but it became a full one-shot. i guess i can't be brief. as always, I recommend you to listen to this amazing song while reading: Eden - Suffering for Love. Have a good time <з

She hated what he was doing. She hated this little ring, which looked like a cage when even animals could not be kept. She hated being in a crowd of sweaty men drinking beer and shouting his name. She hated watching his face, which she loved to cover with kisses, get hit after hit. And she hated that she felt a vague pleasure when his fist flew into his opponent's face.

All in all, she hated violence. And JJ Maybank's lifestyle was full of this violence.

But more than that, she hated the fact that she was the cause of this violence in JJ's life. Everything he did was for her and because of her. He kissed the ground she walked on.

Therefore, he was ready to do anything just to give her a bouquet of her favorite flowers. Or to arrange the most unforgettable date for her on the beach. Or to give her that rare and outrageously expensive book for her birthday that she had dreamed of for so long. And for all of this, money was needed, which JJ did not have. But there was hatered and violence in his veins, which for the first time in his life came in handy.

At first, these illegal fights were just additional earnings for him, when he had to make ends meet, to repay debts, or when he just wanted to pamper his princess (always). But then... the high-stakes, wins, the big money, her smiling face - pulled him into a place he didn't want to get out of. And JJ Maybank knew perfectly well that if she found out about his new little part-time ‘job’, she wouldn't like it. So, he kept it a secret. Violence was his little secret.

But she was never stupid. She found all these little gestures on his part sweet and innocent. She didn't wonder where he got the money from, because he had a job. In this godforsaken car repair shop. But when Mr. Joyce, his boss, called out to her on the street, asking her to send her ‘errand boy’ to take his share after he was fired, she began to suspect something was wrong.

With his first big win in boxing, he rented them a small cozy house on the outskirts of the cut. It was a gift for their second anniversary. And she moved from her parents' huge mansion on Figure 8 to this small house to be near him, to love him and to spent her whole life with him.

They never talked about JJ's new job, she didn't ask where his money came from, or where he got new beatings every week right after the previous ones had just healed. She didn't want to get into his soul with questions, having already understood perfectly well for two years that if he wanted to, he would have told everything himself. But all this bothered her, because of which she did not sleep well, she always walked around sullen and gloomy. And at some point she just couldn't stand it.

She remembered this day as if it were yesterday. She going down the dark stairs to the basement, standing in the crowd, looking around for the top of his blond hair, and how her heart stopped for a moment when she saw him in that cage. She stood frozen with horror and fear for him, unable to say even a word. She saw how he struck blow after blow, how his eyes burned with determination and how he grinned triumphantly into the crowd, enjoying himself after winning.

He always enjoyed the taste of victory and the roar of the crowd shouting his name at such moments, because it made him feel needed, noticed and appreciated. But as soon as he saw her frightened look at him, everything inside him turned upside down. She was standing there, looking at him with her big, frightened eyes, like a little deer that had met with a gun pointed at her in the woods. And the air was knocked out of his lungs in a second just from one of her looks, which stabbed into his heart like a knife. He watched her slowly squeeze through the crowd, trying to get out, trying to escape from what she saw.

For the first time in his life, JJ Maybank didn't know what to do. He understood that she needed time to make sense of everything, but he didn't want her to make some hasty decision without him.

So, he quickly took his salary and things and left the basement, meeting with the cold wind and with her. She stood hugging herself, trying to warm her body, which was shaking either from cold or shock. JJ draped his jacket over her shoulders and lit a cigarette, waiting for her to speak first.

Everything inside him was shaking with fear that she would leave, that she would not want to be with him anymore. And this thought terrified him more than anything else in the world.

"Why didn’t you tell me?" she asked in a barely audible voice, concentrating all her attention on the flashing light at the end of the road. A tiny cloud of steam escaped from her lips.

"It didn't matter, kitten," the guy croaked, looking at her. JJ had never seen her so seriously cold before. There was a lump in his throat. "You never cared where I took the money so I..."

"It didn't matter? Doesn't it matter to you, JJ?!" her voice rose and she turned to him, looking at him in rage with tears in her eyes.

"’Cause it does metter to me! ‘S metter to me where you are, if you're okay, how y’feel.… And after everything we've been through, did you jus’ decide to hide that you're engaged in illegal fighting now?" her chest heaved and her fists clenched. She did not understand at what point she stumbled, that he no longer trusted her. What did she do wrong?

"Why don't you trust me, Jay? I thought... we..." her lips trembled and her voice cracked. All the rage seemed to have disappeared in a moment, leaving only pain and resentment. Resentment against the person she loved most, for whom she fought for so many years and went against everyone, even against her parents. And for what?

JJ stood next to her in a daze. He watched her body shudder from the cold and saw tears begin to shine in her eyes in the light of the lanterns. She looked like a little kitten who had been kicked out of a warm and cozy house onto the street, where she was surrounded only by a big world filled with fear and horror. And to tell the truth, that's how she felt. All those relationships filled with love and trust that she had tried to build brick by brick between them were now slowly crumbling before her eyes. She never asked questions. And maybe that was her mistake. Maybe that's why her JJ decided she couldn't be trusted. Maybe that's why he decided to hide part of his life from her?

But that wasn't the case for JJ. He has always trusted her and will trust her no matter what happens, because she is the one for him. She was always there for him in the most difficult moments of his life. She pulled him out of the swamp of darkness and pain that he had been immersed in all these years. She took him under her wing, took care of him and loved him. JJ always believed that she was his guardian angel. That at some point in his miserable life, God, if he really existed, sent her to save his, JJ Maybank's, worthless life and give him a reason to stay.

She was always perfect in his eyes. Innocent and pure. He couldn't let all the dirt and violence he was dealing with show on her. But even more, he couldn't bear the thought that after recognizing him as so evil and cruel, she would abandon him. That's why he's hiding it. That's why he didn't tell her anything.

"Jay, please say somethin’.… this silence is drivin’ me crazy," her voice was hoarse and helpless. She looked at him with her big tearful eyes and JJ felt his heart breaking. Did he really do this to her? "What did I do wrong?"

Maybank could have sworn he barely heard her last words. The phrase swept past him like a cold wind, leaving behind a wave of goosebumps. He wished he hadn't heard them. He wished he didn't feel that stabbing feeling in his chest that they caused. But JJ heard that soft voice, broken for a second, which, like a blow to the gut, forced the air out of his lungs.

JJ Maybank had done the most terrible thing to her. He made her doubt herself. And he hated himself for it. The guy frowned, trying a couple of times to open his mouth and say at least something ... at least something so that she would understand him.

"That's what I thought," Dana whispered softly, nodding and turning around and walking in the same direction from where she came.

The sound of her footsteps echoing down the empty street brought JJ out of shock and he immediately started running after her. He couldn't let her go. She was his world. His everything.

"Kitten, wait! Stop! I'll explain everythin’, okay?" catching her hand, he gently turned her around.

The girl's face was pale and lifeless. For the first time in all this weeks, JJ noticed blue circles under her eyes, and a lack of shine in her pupils. She didn't say anything, just stood there waiting for his explanation. The girl knew that she would never be able to leave him without listening. No matter how many times JJ Maybank messed up, she would always accept and listen to him.

"I jus’ wanted to give you better life, kitten. I- I-... ‘n that was the only way," JJ whispered, taking her hands in his. His fingers moved slowly and soothingly over her palms.

"I know you don't like... all this. I know ‘s too much. But ‘s worth it to see y’smile..." JJ looked at their joined hands and let go of one, reaching into his pocket and showing her a stack of greenbacks.

"There's a thousand bucks here. I got a thousand dollars for jus’ one fight, kitten. ‘S enough to cover all our expenses and there will still be..." Maybank looked up at his girl, smiling, but when he met her sad expression, his smile immediately faded.

Her name came out of his mouth, but she just shook her head as she came closer. Her hands gently touched his face, tracing each wound with her finger. A split eyebrow. A bruise on the cheekbone. A bleeding scar on the bridge of his nose. A split lip. She flinched a little every time her finger touched a particularly badly bleeding wound, as if all these wounds were hers.

"Do you really think that this money is more important to me than you are? Do you really think that this money is worth all your injuries to me?" Dana whispered softly, frowning slightly. Her voice was soft and soothing, but her eyes were shining.

JJ saw her bite her lower lip to keep from crying. His heart ached. JJ saw her pain. He said her name again, but she shook her head, taking a deep breath.

"You still haven't realized in all these years that I don't care about money, Jay?" She cupped his face with her hands and looked him straight in the eyes. "I left my parents, I left my life behind to be with you. I don't need money, I need you."

JJ's arms wrapped around her waist and pulled her to him. He needed to feel her next to him. To feel that she would never leave. JJ rested his chin on her hair, inhaling the scent of floral perfume.

"I know, but I don't want you to live in need, kitten. I promise it for a while.… I'll figure something out"

JJ kissed the top of her head, holding her close. And she believed all his words again, hoping that he would really end it soon. She had no desire to watch him torture himself because of her.

"I can't do this anymore, Jay," the girl confessed months after their first encounter. This time his ‘performance’ went worse than expected.

She stood behind him with her arms crossed over her chest, looking at him through the mirror. JJ slowly treated his wounds on his face, sometimes spitting blood clots into the snow-white sink. He looked terrible. His entire torso was dotted with red bruises, and there was no living place on his face. Even after the worst fights with his father a couple of years ago, he didn't look that bad.

She watched as he slowly applied the alcohol-soaked cotton wool to his bruised eyebrow, pressing it too hard, which made him cringe in pain. She suppresses the urge to reach out to him and take everything from him, treat his wounds properly and kiss every bruise on his face, as she has done since the very beginning of their relationship. First because of Luke, and then because of his... his job. But she remained standing behind him, leaning her head back against the cold tiles on the wall. It seemed to calm her down a little. But all these thoughts about JJ, about these illegal fights, about what their relationship had become because of it, did not give her peace of mind. She didn't want to support this violence anymore. She doesn't want to see him suffer.

"You know 'm doin’ this for ya. For us, kitten," JJ said wearily, putting down the cotton wool and turning to the girl. Her gaze swept over his features again, which she did not recognize because of the swelling and bruises, and the girl frowned even despite his soft smile. "'m doin’ this so that we have the money to pay for this house. And for the bills. And for the food and all other stuff that ya need"

"If I get a job too, then you won't have to fight..."

“No! I have everything under control. You're not gonna work in some diner just ‘cause I..." the guy swallowed, rubbing the bridge of his nose. "Just ‘cause I can't provide for the life you had before me."

She shook her head and frowned. That was the whole damn problem. The fact that before her relationship with him, she was a kook, lived in a large mansion with a cook, a maid and a gardener, had an unlimited golden card and could do anything. And JJ was a pogue. And he didn't care about it until they decided to move in together a year ago, and since then he has set himself the goal of doing everything possible so that his kook princess doesn't lift her finger a day in her life. Although she didn't mind, she was never one to be afraid of getting her hands dirty. She was willing to work in the most God-forsaken eateries twenty-four hours a day just so that JJ wouldn't enter this fighting ring anymore. Because to see him like this almost every night…

"I'll figure it out, kitten. It's okay," she felt JJ's hands wrap around her cheeks, wiping away the tears with his thumbs, which she didn't even notice how they flowed. She focused her gaze on him and shook her head, biting her lip, suppressing a sniffle.

And again she hears "I'll figure it out." Sometimes it seems to her that she has heard this phrase from him every day throughout the year. Although it probably is, because all they've been doing this year is fighting. Then make up. And after that they quarrel again. So in a circle.

Her whole life over the past year has become like trash day, from which she can not get out.

"No, Jay. Nothing's gonna be okay as long as you go there," she couldn't even bring herself to say out loud the place where her boyfriend went almost every night. She swallowed the lump in her throat and put her palms on top of his. "With each new time you come in a worse and worse state… 'm afraid... one day… 'm afraid..." her voice trembled and she had to take a couple of breaths before speaking again. "I'm afraid that one day you won't come home, Jay. And I don’t wanna know... I don’t wanna know how I will live after that"

She felt a new wave of tears roll down her cheeks, and Jay cursed softly to himself before moving away from her. Over the past two months, these conversations have become more frequent and it annoyed the guy. None of these talks ended well. And JJ Maybank hated fighting with his girlfriend because she was the only one he lived and did everything for in this world. There was no point in his life without her. But despite this, he said what he considered necessary at that moment. Pause. They needed a pause.

The girl's eyes widened and she stared at the guy in shock. He couldn't offer it. Couldn't he?

"I'll stay with John B. until... until you calm down," the guy came out of the bathroom, opening the closet, taking out a pre-packed bag of things. She followed him out, watching him pull on his hoodie.

"What the hell, Jay? Are you leavin’ me?" her voice broke into a scream, and her heart began to beat at breakneck speed. He couldn't leave her. He won't leave her.

"This is a pause. ‘S just a pause for a few days. I'm tired of fighting’ with ya," JJ breathed wearily, without even turning to her.

"If you stopped goin’ to that damn basement, all the quarrels would be over!" the girl shouted, watching him leave.

"I'll text you" was the last phrase he threw before the front door slammed shut and she fell to the floor sobbing.

She didn't understand at what point everything had changed so much. At what point did all their lovely quiet evenings turn into this? At what point did their I love you’s and happy morning cuddling turn into JJ deciding to leave her?

It all looked like a terrible nightmare and she didn't know how to deal with it anymore.

Two weeks have passed since their last fight. It was the most difficult and terrible two weeks of her life. After almost three years of a relationship, she had to relearn how to be on her own and live alone.

For the first few days, she woke up in the morning in the complete silence of their small house in a cold bed, remembering how the door slammed after he left. She walked from room to room like a zombie, trying to occupy herself with something just to avoid thinking about him, but every time she was distracted by something, her thoughts returned to JJ. When she brushed her teeth in the morning, she looked in the mirror, hoping to see him in the reflection and laugh at the mean faces that he made to make her smile. When she was cooking in the kitchen, she remembered JJ quietly whistling some silly tune from an ads, which annoyed her. Even when she was lying on the couch reading a book, she always remembered how JJ would lie down next to her, wrapping her in his strong arms and asking her to read aloud. Maybank didn't give a damn what kind of book it was or what it was about, he just liked listening to her voice and heartbeat.

In those two weeks he wrote to her only a couple of times. She couldn't find a place for herself, only occasionally asked Sarah how JJ, who lived in her and John B.'s house, was doing. From her, she learned that today was his another fight with a man who was famous for his special cruelty. And that scared the hell out of her.

That was exactly the reason why she was standing now among shouting and jostling men, as she had been a few weeks ago. Beer and drool flew in all directions while some young boys were fighting in the boxing ring, who were put on the "warm-up" before the main fight. The fight between her JJ and Broady Harington aka killing machine. And her heart leapt in her chest at the very thought of it.

She wanted to see him before the fights. To apologize. To say that they can solve everything. That her life doesn't make sense without him. And that he doesn't need to participate in this fight. But the bully guard at the service entrance wouldn't let her in. He pushed her out of the room, forcing her to wait for the end of the fight. So she stood in the crowd, fiddling with the hem of her white dress that Jay had bought her for their first anniversary. She thought it would reduce the degree of tension between them.

The girl in the red swimsuit and the referee entered the ring, announcing the start of the fight and then the world around her stopped. It was the first time she had seen him in two weeks. All the wounds on his body and face had almost healed and he looked so young but determined that she didn't even recognize him at first. There was something wrong with him... something was definitely wrong. His gaze focused on the mat under his feet, the way he put on gloves with special slowness, and how the muscles in his jaw moved and tensed. He didn't even look into the crowd, as he did before every fight, to see her and get an encouraging smile. JJ Maybank was completely focused on his goal and in some way it scared her.

When Sarah told her on the phone that JJ had been preparing for one main fight of the season for a month. She didn't believe it. He usually chose small daytime fights that earned him a good income. But over the past month, he began to disappear in the evenings, and he began to bring more money, even began to offer her to look for a real house. Not a rented one that they had now, but their personal home. And she was surprised by that, but she did not attach any importance to it. But now... now she realized that all his evening absences and visits with particularly severe beatings, and all this talk about a private home…

A loud roar knocked her out of her thoughts and she turned her gaze back to the ring. JJ lay on his back, covering his face with gloves, while his opponent delivered a series of strong punches, trying to break through the defense. The air seemed to be knocked out of her lungs and she leaned forward, clinging to the bars, breathing heavily.

"JJ!" she screamed before one of the guards forced her to move away.

The guy's whole body tensed up when he heard her voice for the first time in two weeks. And as if at the behest of some force unknown to him before, he turned the man sitting on him over, making a blow. The girl exhaled in surprise, looking at her boyfriend's bloody face. At the rage that distorted his beautiful features, and a wave of goosebumps went through her body. She missed the whole fight, wandering in her thoughts. But now she was watching JJ snatch his victory from the hands of a man who was famous for his violence. And she was even a little proud.

The referee's voice starts counting down to the end. JJ continues to strike without noticing anything around him. The man lies exhausted under him.

Five.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

JJ Maybank wins. The crowd is shouting and rejoicing. Drops of beer break and soak into the fabric of her white dress, but she doesn't care. She pushes through the crowd, heading out of the ring to meet him. Her winner and the beloved guy she missed so much.

His arms close around her waist, pulling her to him. She feels the metallic taste of blood in her mouth when he covers her lips with a forceful kiss and for the first time she does not resent it. Her heart beats in time with his as he holds her in his arms and looks into her eyes.

"The last one," he whispers into her hair, kissing the top of her head. She raises her head uncomprehendingly, frowning slightly. "It was the last fight. I... I won't participate anymore."

"Why?" she asks softly and naively, childishly, fluttering her long eyelashes.

The guy grins. She sees his eyes glisten and feels her heart begin to beat faster. Just like that first day when she bumped into him on Midsummer and he spilled the entire champagne tray on her expensive dress. Even then, she somehow realized that she had found the very love here that they write about in books and make films. And it was at that very moment that she already realized that JJ Maybank was her man.

"I don't wanna see y’worry and cry ‘cause of me. I don't wanna see you on the other side of the cage among these nasty men, ‘cause you came to support me. I don't wanna quarrel with you anymore, kitten" His voice was soft and gentle, and so soothing that she felt a rush of butterflies in her stomach again.

"So I found a regular job ‘n I'm gonna be the most ordinary person with the most ordinary life, but with the most fuckingly perfect girl in the whole damn world."

She giggles through her tears and pulls him closer to her, dragging him into another kiss. He doesn't resist. When had he ever refused to kiss her? JJ Maybank was created to kiss and please her. Therefore, at this very moment, he couldn't care about anything more than her in his arms and his lips on his lips.

"Hm! Maybank, I don't want to distract you from your entertainment, but come into my office and pick up your check. Unless, of course, you want to leave me 600 thousand dollars," the head of the bookmaker's office in which Maybank worked chuckled, which made him take his mind off his girlfriend.

He lets go of her waist, and is about to follow the boss. But before that, he turns back to her, pulls her to him, kissing her on the cheek.

"I hope you chose the house, kitten, ‘cause tomorrow we are gonna buy it. Now you definitely won't get rid of me, princess," the guy whispers in her ear, and then disappears into the crowd.

She stands there for a couple more minutes, trying to understand everything he said to her, before breaking into a loving smile and heading for the exit from this evil place, to which she hopes never to return. JJ finds her sitting on a bench outside a couple of minutes later, and they return home, where for the last time, she will heal his wounds and kiss each scar so that they don’t sting so much.

And when the next evening, or a week, or even a month later, JJ Maybank does not go to the basement for another fight, but stays with her in their own house to watch a movie, she can do nothing more, but only enjoy life. And to love a guy who now represents only gentelness, not violence.

JJ Maybank was her gentleness, and she would never let him go.

thankx for reading <3

i'm a little dissatisfied with this work, but I hope you enjoyed it anyway! you can always share your opinion in comments or my inbox :3

- your santi 🪐

masterlist

#– santi 🪐#jj maybank fic #jj maybank x y/n #jj mayback imagine #jj maybank x you #jj maybank x reader #jj maybank #obx fanfiction #obx x reader #jj maybank angst #jj maybank fluff #boxer!jj maybank x reader #jj maybank x fem!reader

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rottenpumpkin13 · 7 months ago

Note

AGSZC manage to piss Lazard off and as punishment he sends them all to run a convenience store for a day

• Angeal appoints himself the store manager and automatically starts compulsively cleaning the store.

• They have Sephiroth man the cash register.

• Cloud is given a position of authority—walk around and survey the store to catch anyone trying to steal.

• Zack is given a moogle costume and a glittery sign. His job is to stand outside the store and attract customers.

• Genesis is at the hot dog counter. He's outraged.

Genesis: Why anyone would think to have me be in charge of hot dogs is beyond me. Do I look like a sausage expert to you people?

Sephiroth: You look and act like you have a PhD in sausages.

Genesis: .....

• A child goes to the cash register to purchase some candy and a comic book. Sephiroth insists that they take it for free, no payment required.

Angeal: Why on earth would you do that??

Sephiroth: Childhood is a delicate stage in a person's life that must be treasured.

• Cloud is following an elderly man around the store because he's convinced he's stealing.

• Someone drops a jar of pickles in aisle 3 and Angeal nearly has a heart attack. He rants to the customer about the expense of the pickles and the additional cost of cleaning supplies required to clean it up.

• Meanwhile a single mother and her child go up to the cash register to pay for some groceries. Sephiroth lets her take the groceries free of charge.

Angeal: WHY?

Sephiroth: It's inhumane to charge her for basic necessities when she has a child to care for.

• Cloud tackles the elderly man to the ground. The elderly man was not, in fact, stealing.

• No one has bought a hot dog yet and Genesis is once again outraged.

Genesis: I'm in disbelief. Why is there such a lack of interest in my hot dogs? Are my hot dogs not up to par? Does my presence not exude the allure necessary to entice customers to purchase my hot dogs?

Sephiroth: That's exactly what you sound like when you're lonely.

Genesis: SHUT UP.

• Cloud is still following the elderly man around the store because he's convinced he's stealing.

• Meanwhile a man goes up to the cash register to pay for a bottle of liquor. Sephiroth lets him take it for free.

Angeal: WE'RE GONNA GO BROKE.

Sephiroth: WE ALL NEED TO NUMB THE PAIN IN SOME WAY, ANGEAL.

• Cloud chases out the elderly man (still not stealing) with a broom.

• 1 minute later Zack comes back in looking very upset.

Zack: Someone stole my sign!

Angeal: Who?

Zack: The old dude who ran out of the store just now.

Cloud: I KNEW IT.

#ff7 #ffvii #final fantasy 7 #sephiroth #final fantasy vii #ffvii crisis core #genesis rhapsodos #ff7 crisis core #angeal hewley #zack fair #cloud strife

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animationmovieshipps · 1 year ago

Text

Goodbye Gift - Part 1/3 (OPLA Luffy x Reader)

Since you were younger, you used to read geography books about the four corners of the world and were amazed by how fascinating those places seemed, full of islands you'd never visited and exotic things you'd always dreamed of seeing in person.

It was always your dream to explore the incredible world you lived in, experience things you never had before, and learn new things about other cultures.

But unfortunately, you were forced to give up what you always dreamed of, when your mother died and you started helping your father in the family restaurant, which you would one day take over managing.

It would be very selfish of you if you left your father on that island alone, you weren't the only family he had, but you were still his daughter.

You pretended to him that your dream was nothing more than a silly childish thing, the last thing you wanted was for him to feel guilty for keeping you stuck on that island.

Seeing that a small group of people had arrived at the restaurant, the restaurant's cook stopped stirring the sauce pot and went to talk to you, who was distracted reading a book.

"Hey, new customers just arrived." He warned you, with the ladle in his hand, he accidentally dropped a drop of tomato sauce on your book.

You were outraged and it was no surprise, you had saved three salaries to buy that book.

"Do you have any idea how expensive that book is?!" You raged.

"Sorry, so sorry." He quickly apologized. "I'll manage to clean up, but someone has to go take orders now."

Still in a bad mood, you huffed and left the kitchen, while taking out your notepad and a pen from your apron.

You were afraid of being rude to a customer, as you had done before, but the angry frown on your face quickly disappeared when you laid eyes on one of the boys sitting at the table.

He seemed like the type of person who brought joy wherever he went. Moreover he was so handsome, and had such a bright smile that it made your heart flutter.

"Hey, if you want I can take their orders for you." Aisha, another waitress who was also your friend, asked.

"No!" You quickly denied it, which surprised her. You had never refused when someone offered to take orders in your place. "I mean, leave it to me, I have to work too."

She looked at the table where the group that entered was sitting and chatting and quickly understood your special interest.

"One of those cute boys caught your eye, huh?" She said in a suggestive tone of voice, lightly elbowing you.

"Shut up." You mumbled, ignoring her and went to the table.

You had to stop in the middle and take a deep breath to stay calm and not do anything that would embarrass you in front of the boy with the straw hat.

That wasn't the first time you had felt attracted to a client, but for some reason, none of the previous times compared to what you were feeling for him.

Flashing a smile, you walked over to the table where he was sitting, trying not to freak out when you saw him looking at you.

"Hello there, beautiful thing." The blonde boy hummed when he saw you. You looked at him and he blinked at you.

"Hello." You greeted him with disinterest. "Welcome to 'Tropical Flavor', can I take your orders or do you need some more time?"

"Oh." A young redhead raised her hand to indicate that she was the one ordering, before looking back at the menu. "I think I'll have the..."

You were about to write down her order, when you dropped the pen when you were startled by the loud noise the door made when it opened.

The reason was soon discovered, three threatening men entered, one of them had a gun, which he started pointing in all directions, which left customers terrified.

Except the last ones who arrived.

You picked up the pen from the floor and placed it with the notepad on the table, before approaching the man with the gun.

"Can I help you guys?" You asked with all the calm you had.

"Is she really talking civilly? To the bandits?" Nami asked in a loud whisper. "We have to do something..."

"No." Luffy quickly said, not taking his eyes off you for even a second. "Let's see what she does on her own. If things get serious, we'll intervene.”

Nami didn't believe what he said, but decided not to question it.

"Pass everything you have at the cash register and no one will get hurt!" He pointed the gun at you, trying to sound even more threatening than he already did.

"Okay, okay, nobody has to get hurt." You said, raising your hands to look like you were protecting yourself.

Waiting a second until he was distracted, as soon as you saw him look away from you, you quickly disarmed him and hit him with a punch to the face, which made him fall to the ground unconscious.

Realizing what had happened to the boss, the other two robbers who spread throughout the restaurant to take other clients hostage, soon came to his aid.

"Finally something interesting is happening here." You said, taking a defensive stance and preparing to fight again.

It wasn't difficult to defeat everyone else, they might be bigger and have more physical strength, but you were smaller and more agile and you knew how to use that to your advantage.

You received a round of applause for saving the restaurant from being robbed, while the last people who arrived were still dumbfounded that you had handled that situation alone. All but one.

"I knew she was a good fighter." He murmured, his interest in you growing even more after what had just happened.

"And we never doubted that." Nami joked.

You took some ropes from the pantry, tied the four of them together and asked one of the employees to go and tell the police.

Soon after, you returned to the table and took the notepad and pen back.

"Sorry for the delay." You apologized briefly. "Is everyone already ready to order?"

They placed their orders and you wrote down each one.

"I'll be right back with the drinks." You said, turning to head back to the kitchen. But you had to turn around again when you heard one of them shout your name.

The cute curly-haired boy smiled at you again. Until that moment you had never noticed how beautiful his eyes were, so big and bright, they seemed like they were looking straight into your soul.

"Name's Luffy." He introduced himself.

You smiled, even his name was cute.

"Nice to meet you then, Luffy." You said, before finally heading back to the kitchen, not knowing how you had managed to look away from him.

Timeskip...

After he and his group ate and paid the bill, they left, but Luffy remained in the restaurant, buying not very expensive drinks just so he could stay there, seeming to wait for the end of your shift.

Luckily for him and for you too, he didn't have to wait much longer. You looked at the clock hanging in the kitchen's wall and were happy to see that it was already 8 pm.

"Well guys, my time has come." You said, as you carefully took off your apron.

"Look how rushed she is to leave today." One of them said in a suggestive tone of voice, which made you groan in frustration when you saw that it was the beginning of yet another provocation.

"Does it have to do with a certain boy who didn't leave until now even after he finished eating?" Aisha joined.

"I hate you guys." You grumbled, as you went to the staff room.

"Oh stop, you love us." Aisha laughed.

You changed your uniform, which was basically a flowered blouse, pants and an apron, for the dress you arrived there in and let your hair down, which always needed to be tied in a bun to prevent your hair from falling into the food.

When he saw you again, this time with different clothes and hair down, the expression on his face suddenly changed. It felt like he was seeing a completely different person, but he knew it was you.

"Hey, wanna go somewhere else?" You asked him.

He smiled and got up from his chair, leaving some coins on the table to pay for the last glass of juice he had had.

You held his hand in yours and led him with you to the exit.

Across the street, there was an open bar on the beach. Whenever you left the restaurant, you would see people dancing to the loud music and drinking colorful cocktails from glasses decorated with pieces of fruit.

But it wasn't for you, you hated environments with loud music.

"Seems cool." Luffy commented to you, noticing you looking over there. "You wanna go there?"

"Honestly no." You replied, turning your face to look at him again. "I'd rather be somewhere where it's just you and me."

He was surprised by what you said, but it didn't take long for him to smile. That's what he wanted too, but he didn't know how to say it.

"Well then lead the way."

#opla #opla x reader #opla luffy #monkey d luffy #monkey d. luffy x reader

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valentoru · 27 days ago

Text

|| Limitless ||

[CHAPTER 18]

[authors note at end of chapter]

SYNOPSIS: Gojo Satoru, a big time artist, who’s known for leaving a trail of broken hearts in his wake wherever he goes. And you, the lead guitarist of an upcoming band, who’s absolutely certain that no one will ever love you. Through an accident in which you happened to kiss Gojo in a frantic state, you both decide, via convenience alone—and zero regard for both of your managers—to pull a fake dating stunt what could go wrong? Any press is good press…right?

PREVIOUS : MASTERLIST : NEXT

There were two beds in the hotel room.

Two double beds to be precise. As you stared at them, you felt your shoulders sag with relief and you had to fight the urge to fist-pump—take that, you stupid rom-coms. You realised on your plane you had sort of fallen for the guy you were fake dating, if you were being entirely honest with yourself, like some born-yesterday fool, but at least you wouldn’t be sharing a bed with him.

Given your outrageous actions the past couple of weeks, you really needed this win, though small.

There were a number of small clues that Satoru had slept on the bed closest to the entrance. A book on the nightstand, a thumb drive, the iPad you’d seen him carry around many times, an iPhone charger, and most obviously, a suitcase by the foot of the bed, black and expensive-looking. Unlike yours, which had probably been fished out of a bargain bin.

“Guess this is mine then,” you murmured, sitting on the bed closest to the window and bouncing a few times to test the mattress. It was a nice room. Not ridiculously fancy, but you were suddenly grateful for the way Satoru had snorted and looked at you like you were crazy when you had offered to pay half for it. At last the place was wide enough that you both weren’t going to have to brush up against each other every time you moved around. Staying in here with him wouldn’t feel like a singular my statistic version of Seven Minutes in Heaven.

Not that you’d be together much. You were going to preform in a couple hours—yippie—then go to the social and hang out with your friends until…well, as long as you feasibly could. Odds were the Satoru already had tons of meet-and-greets and meetings and other things scheduled, maybe you wouldn’t even see eachother. You would be asleep when he came back tonight, and tomorrow morning, one of you would pretend not to wake up while the other got ready. It was going to be fine. Harmless. At the very least, not make thing worse then they already were.

Your usual concert outfits would be professionally made, but given the premise to the concert, it didn’t quite seem right to blow thousands on a concert outfit, so instead you put one together yourself. Maki had mentioned the other day that you didn’t want to be too casual for this event, but also be comfortable. After fighting for hours you decided on something just in between, making sure to get Maki’s approval first too. It seemed like a good idea, you slipped into the bathroom and fought with your hair and makeup till you deemed yourself “concert ready.”

You just walked out of the bathroom, rehearsing some of your vocals and warming up your voice when the door opened and someone—Satoru, of course it was Satoru—entered the room. He was holding his keycard and typing something on his phone, but stopped as soon as he looked up and noticed you. His mouth opened, and—

That was it. It just stayed open.

“Hey.” You forced your face into a smile. Your heart was doing something weird in your chest. Beating a little too quickly. You should probably do something about that soon, when you got back home, one could never be too careful. “Hi.”

“He snapped his mouth closed and cleared his throat. “You’re…” he swallowed, shifted on his feet. “Here.”

“Yep.” You nodded, still smiling. “Just arrived. My flight landed on time, shockingly.”

Satoru seemed a little slow. Maybe jet-lagged from his own flight, or perhaps last night he’s been out late with his famous friends, or with a mysterious woman. He stared at you, silent for several moments, when he spoke to was only to say, “You look…”

You glanced down, wondering if your makeup had already smudged. You put it on three whole minutes ago so it was more than likely. “Concert ready?”

“That’s not what I…” Satoru shook his head like he was collecting himself. “But, yes. You do. How are you?”

“Good. Fine. I mean, I wish I were dead, but aside from that, okay.”

He laughed silently and moved closer, “You’ll be okay.” You had thought that sweaters were a good look for him, but that was because you hadn’t see him in a blazer. He’d had a secret weapon all along, you thought, trying not to stare too hard. And now he’s unleashing it, screw him.

“Agreed.” You scraped your fingers through your hair and smiled. “After I die.”

“You’re fine. You’re always fine. You preform amazingly all the time, you’re good.”

“I think it was better before you made me change my strings.”

“They were fraying.”

“I know. It added edge.”

“They put me on edge.”

“Mm. Anyway, thanks again for all the help.” And for answering the 143 questions I asked. Thank you for taking less than ten minutes to reply to any emails of texts I sent you, even when it was 5:30 am and you missed spelled “pitch” which is unusual of you and makes me suspect that you were definitely still half asleep.

“No problem.”

You scratched your cheek. “I figured you were using that bed, so I put my stuff here, but if you…” you trailed off, gesturing confusedly at the room.

“No, that’s where I slept last night.”

“Okay.” You were not counting how many inches were between the beds. Definitely not. “So, how has the event been so far?”

“Same old.” He said it like he had been to so many, which he likely had, after all he was the Satoru Gojo. “I was mostly with Geto for boring meetings and stuff since we’re debuting our song, I only got back for lunch.”

Your stomach rumbled loudly at the mention of food.

“You okay?”

“Yeah, I like, think I forgot to eat today.”

His eyebrows arched. “I didn’t think you capable.”

“Hey?!” You glared at him. “The sustained levels of despair I’ve been engaging in require a staggering number of calories, in case you—what are you doing?”

Satoru was leaning over his suitcase, rummaging for something that he held out to you.

“What is it?”

“Calories. To fuel your despair habits.”

“Oh.” You accepted it, dumbfound. Then you studied the protons bar in your hands, trying not to burst out crying. It was just food. Probably a snack he’d brought for the plane ride and ended up not eating, he didn’t need despair, after all. He was Satoru Gojo. “Thanks are you…” The wrapper of the bar crinkled as you shifted it from one hand to another. “Still coming to our set?”

“Yes of course, when is it?”

“Today, starts at 7. It does overlap with Geto’s stuff though so it’s possible we won’t get the much turnout. Good and bad.”

His spine stiffened noticeably, you hesitated.

“Unless you were planning to go support Geto?”

Satoru wet his lips. “I…”

Your mind chose that exact moment to fully comprehend what he had said before.

“Since we’re debuting our song”

You jaw dropped.

“Oh my God.” You looked up at him, wide-eyed and…oh god. At least he had the grace to look sheepish. “How did you not tell me that you would be Geto’s guest appearance?”

Satoru scratch his jaw, oozing discomfort. “I didn’t think of it.”

“Oh my God.” You repeated.

To be fair, it was on you. The name of Geto’s guest appearance was likely printed in font size 300 in the program, and all the promotional material, not to mention the emails you hand gotten, you must have had your head very much up your own ass to fail to notice.

“Satoru.” You made to rub your eyes then thought better of it. Damn makeup. “I can’t be fake-dating Suguru Geto’s public best friend.”

“Well, technically there’s more than just me. The other two are married from Europe and Japan—”

You crossed your arms on your chest and gave him a flat look till he quieted. You couldn’t help laughing. “How did this not come up?”

“It’s not a big deal.” He shrugged. “I doubt I was the first choice.”

“Right.” Sure, because a person exists who would actually refuse to play at this event. You tilted your head. “Did you think I was an idiot, when I was complaining about like two hours on stage in-front of like a thousand people maximum?”

“Not at all, your reaction was understandable.” He thought for a moment. “I do sometimes thinks your an idiot, like when you made questionable food concoctions.”

“They’re all great.”

He looked pained. “When are you doing your test run? Maybe I can still make it.”

“We’re not.” You waved your hand, hoping to seem unconcerned. “It’s fine really.” And it was since someone would be preforming right before you. “Based on our regular concert routine, I’ll probably be recording the whole thing on my phone, since we do that thing where we post like highlights social media afterwards, but they’re recorded on our phones.”

Satoru looked confused, clearly he hadn’t seen any of your social media posts, you didn’t blame him. He was above them.

“Bottom line is, I can probably send you that video.”

“I’d like that.”

You flushed and changed the topic. “Is that why you have this room for the whole event? Because you’re a big shot?”

He frowned. “I’m not.”

“Can I call you “big shot” from now on?”

He sighed, walking to the bedside table and pocketing a USB you’d noticed earlier. “I have to go downstairs, smart-ass.”

“Okay.” He could leave, it was fine, totally fine. You didn’t let your smile falter. “I’ll see you after the show then?”

“Of course.”

“And after yours, good luck, and congratulations, I mean it’s such a big honour.”

Satoru didn’t seem to be thinking about that though, he lingered by the door, his hand over the door knob as he looked back at you. Your eyes held for a few moments before he told you, “Don’t be nervous, okay?”

You pressed your lips together and nodded. “I’ll just do what Maki always says.”

“And what’s that?”

“Carry myself with the confidence of a mediocre white man.”

He grinned, and—there they were. The heart-stopping dimples. “It will be fine, Y/N.” His smile softened, “And if not, at least it’ll be over.”

TAGLIST(32/50): @bbmsxlene @lunavelha @satoryaa @tranzumaki @k-kkiana @luvkvni @lysaray @kalulakunundrum @arysbruv @r4veeen @mayyhaps @catobsessedlady @colortheoryrocks @minzxec @dazqa @packsvlog @luvvmae @simplysm1le @mintfyi @littlecritteryay @fackeraccount @astro-stars @lavender-hvze @miizuzu @rayrayline @kanaojacksonofc @letsmyy @serenadesvt @art-n-rot @aastrobliss @herdemisee @tikideedee

AN:

Hello hello hello…

So like—I’m back. And I’m back back like fr back.

I had a lot of stuff go on and it was a lot to handle but I’m feeling better and ready to write!!

I have, during my time off, been working with @bbmsxlene and we have decided to collaborate our ownership and co-own a discord server!

It’s called Poopynation which you can your here !!

I really recommend joining so you can keep up to date with my publishing and also discover new writers, or even promote your own work!

I’m so so sorry about disappearing on you guys, I promise, there’s so much drama coming up now we’re close to the end!!

#⤷limitless #jjk #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #jjk x reader #jujustu kaisen #jujutsu gojo #maki zenin #geto suguru x reader

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smittywing · 11 months ago

Text

WIP Wednesday - Marriage 101

I thought I'd post a little more of this while I was thinking about it.

First part is here: | 1 |

Tim wore his favorite black suit - the one with the pinstripe that was just a notch shinier than the rest of the fabric - to their appointment at City Hall. It was probably too expensive a suit, given the motivation behind their...appointment. He thought of it in euphemism, because it was fake, it was pretend, but the legal ramifications were very real and this was supposed to have been a very big decision that he’d made in practically no time at all.

“Hey, um. Hey.”

Tim looked up to see Jason skid into the hallway. He straightened from his contemplative position with his elbows on his knees and stood up.

“Hey,” he said.

Jason was wearing a black suit too, and a white shirt and a red tie. He’d done something to his hair - something with product that didn’t exactly work, but it looked like he’d tried, and Tim tried to smother the grin a wave of fondness pushed up to his face.

“Do you - I mean, do we have time to talk for a sec?” Jason asked and Tim’s anticipation plummeted. Jason was going to back out.

“Yeah,” he said. “Of course.”

There was a little corridor where the bathrooms were and they ducked in there, past the marked men’s and women’s to the back wall.

“So listen,” Jason said, rubbing the back of his neck and not looking directly at Tim. “You doing this, it means, I mean - “ He stopped and took a breath. “You being willing to do this means a lot to me. But if you have, you know, ideas. About marriage. And you don’t want this to be your first, I totally understand. And you shouldn’t feel you have to. Because it’s kind of a big deal. To some people.”

“Is it a big deal to you?” Tim asked because that hadn’t really occurred to him before, that Jason might have a traditional romantic side and that he might one day have hopes of a wife and family.

It was kind of a weird thing to think about.

“Me? No. I - No,” Jason said. “I’m barely even a legal entity.” He scrubbed a hand through his hair, messing up whatever careful but ineffective work he’d done with the product. “I just don’t want to fuck things up for you. Like, if you want to date Blondie again. Or someone else. I don’t want to cramp your style.”

Tim shrugged. “I think that ship has sailed with Steph,” he confessed. “And hey, we’re already kind of family, right?”

And this would help Jason out. A lot. And it would let Tim see his face light up talking about English Lit. “So,” he concluded. “Let’s do it.”

Jason’s face split into a genuine grin - not a smirk or snarl or sneer but an actual grin. “There’s probably no favor big enough to pay you back for this,” he said.

“That’s okay,” Tim said, jamming his hands in his pockets and easing Jason back out to the main hall. “When you’re a rich and famous novelist, you can put me in one of your books. As the star,” he specified. “Not the cannon fodder.”

“I’ll give you a whole series,” Jason promised. “Tim Drake, Secret Agent.”

“I like it,” Tim said. “But please give me a better drink than a watered down martini?”

“I thought you guys were Punking me,” Dick complained when they stepped back into the main hallway.

“Would we do that?” Jason asked. Tim admired how he could sound offended, outraged, and sarcastic with four words.

“In a hot second,” Dick returned.

“Am I late?”

“For the love of little fish,” Jason muttered, good humor lost. “Did you invite the whole damn family?”

“I invited myself,” Barbara said, poking him in the chest with her finger. “It’s cute how you think you have secrets from me.” She glanced back at Tim. Tim waved. “And you,” she added. “You should know better.”

Tim shrugged. He hadn’t actually been trying to hide from her. He’d just hoped she wouldn’t sound any alarms. “Should we be expecting any more guests?” he asked.

Jason glanced back at him, realization flashing on his face and he turned quickly back to Barbara.

“I didn’t forward the info,” she said. “But I know some people are going to be pissed if they hear about this from the Gazette instead of from one of you.”

“<i>Some people</i> can just butt out,” Jason snapped and Dick looked pained.

Honestly, Tim hadn’t really thought Bruce would care too much, beyond the optics of it and he had a plan for that, and he was going to tell Steph, but later, for this very reason.

“Alfred?” Dick sounded angry for the first time and Jason went white and then red.

“I’ll talk to Alfred,” he muttered.

“What do you want us to say to Bruce?” Barbara demanded. “Did either of you think this through even a little?”

“What do you want us to say to Bruce?” Jason asked. “We’re getting married to get money for college because you’ll just want to pay and I don’t want you to?”

“Just because he’ll take it badly doesn’t mean you shouldn’t tell him,” Babs said.

“We’ll just tell him it’s a practical arrangement,” Tim offered. “For practical purposes. He should understand that.”

Jason shot Tim a look Tim couldn’t even begin to interpret and then looked back to Barbara. “Will that check the box, Barbie?” he asked.

Barbara narrowed her eyes. “I suppose.” She slapped a redweld against his chest. “Congratulations on your wedding.”

Jason frowned and unlatched the folder, peering inside. “Huh,” he said.

That was unhelpfully vague so Tim took the expandable folder from him and pulled out a handful of paperwork. Birth certificate. Social security card. Passport.

“Hey,” he said. “You’re a real boy Mr. Peterson.”

“Yeah,” Jason said. He looked back at Barbara. “Is this - ?”

“Airtight,” Barbara said with her first smile of the day. “Every piece of it. It’ll stand up to an intensive background check. Just give me a heads up if you’re joining the state bar because those people look for everything.”

“Deal,” Jason said and then, to everyone’s surprise, maybe even Jason’s, he hugged her, resting his chin on the top of her head. “Thanks, Barbara,” he whispered.

“

“Mr. Peterson and Mr. Drake?” someone called from the wooden doors. “The magistrate is ready for you.”

“That’s you,” Dick said unnecessarily.

“We know,” Tim assured him.

“Yeah,” Jason said. “C’mon, we need you two to be our witnesses.”

“You only need one witness in Gotham,” Barbara corrected.

“Yeah, well, make sure this guy doesn’t mess it up, okay?” Jason asked and then squared his shoulders. He looked at Tim and held out his hand. “C’mon,” he said. “We have to pretend like we like each other.”

“Oh yeah,” Barbara said. “This is going to be the best marriage ever.”

And so they got married. There was an awkward part where they were supposed to kiss and they both tilted their heads the same way and it was absurdly clear they had never kissed each other before, but no one said anything and they escaped with their dignity intact.

“So,” Tim said, out on the street after. “What now?”

Barbara elbowed Dick. Dick elbowed Barbara back. This escalated. Tim ignored them.

“I’ll submit my paperwork and hope for the best,” Jason said doubtfully. “And I guess in August, I start crashing at your place?”

“I wasn't sure if you needed to crash there before,” Tim said. “Or want to get your mail sent there, at least. So I made you keys.”

“I don't need keys,” Jason scoffed but took them anyway.

“Jason Peterson needs keys,” Tim countered.

“Okay, yeah,” Jason conceded. “I guess I’ll have to stop by for my mail now and then.”

“You’d better,” Tim told him. “If Gotham U sends you a ginormous envelope, you have exactly one hour to get over here and open it or I’m doing it for you.”

Jason dropped his head back and laughed. If Tim watched the ripple of his throat, well, he was married to the man. “Fair,” he allowed with a grin. “So, uh, see you around, I guess?”

“Yeah,” said Tim. “See you around.”

And that was that.

#jaytim #batbrats #tim drake #jason todd #jason todd/tim drake #red hood/red robin #red hood #red robin #jason todd's potty mouth

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