#dick: …. I wouldn’t call it STRANGE per say | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

lady-literature · 4 years ago

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Found Family

holy shit did this one get way out of hand. Don’t expect them all to be this long because hot damn this is a monster compared to literally everything else but it just wouldn’t stop

(should I have expected this? probably. we all know how I am about found family.)

anyway enjoy 4.5k words ig

based on this post | @maribatmarch-2k21 | find more here

***

When Marinette had been chosen to intern with Monsieur Wayne’s PA, she hadn’t been expecting anything special. Sure, the Waynes were an odd breed and generally considered strange, but Marinette hadn’t actually expected to have much contact with them—if any at all.

She was here to earn credit for her business degree.

Instead, she has… well. She thinks she’s been somehow inducted into the Wayne family, mostly on accident and kind of as a joke.

That is, until it very much wasn’t.

***

Her first mistake, she supposes, was being too good at her job.

Marinette is an old hand at keeping track of multiple moving parts and riding herd on stubborn people who’d otherwise be too distracted or goofing off. (She was the Court’s leader for more than just being the latest in a long line of Ladybugs, after all.)

After the first two days shadowing Selina—“please, darling. Ms Kyle is so formal”—and learning the broad strokes of the job, Marinette felt confident enough to dig her nails in and get to work. Selina spent most of her time dedicated to international tasks and arranging Monsieur Waynes’ private affairs—all of which was highly classified and not discussed with Marinette—so she turned her attention to inter-company affairs.

Her first order of business was personally meeting with as many people in managerial positions as she could get. Not a requirement for the job per se, but these were people she’d have to interact with often and Maman had always stressed the importance of building connections in the workplace.

“People,” she would say, “are far more willing to do what you want them to when you’ve endeared yourself to them.”

So Marinette takes that advice and spends her breaks and lunches charming employees and giving baked goods to security guards and learning the names of the cleaning crew. She doesn’t speak to the department heads, because Selina handles their correspondences, but everyone else is free game as far as she’s concerned.

She becomes a well-recognized face astoundingly quickly.

***

Marinette probably should’ve seen the rumors coming.

It’s common practice in not only the Wayne family, but in most business conglomerates, for the children to quickly rise through the ranks of their company—if not just handed a high position right off the bat.

It took barely a month before the eldest was all but running Human Resources, and the second was placed as Head of Security practically out of nowhere. Monsieur Drake is the youngest (and most terrifyingly calculated) CEO to ever hold Wayne Enterprises, even if he does share the title with his father.

The other three are still too young or have yet to express an interest in the company, but people say it’s only a matter of time.

The track record speaks for itself, even if Marinette wishes it didn’t.

As a girl who’d come mostly out of nowhere and found herself with far more divisive sway in the company than she had any right to, it’s no wonder everyone thinks she’s some sort of secret Wayne finally coming out of hiding.

Marinette had nearly choked on her coffee when Selina dropped the bomb of that particular tidbit of company gossip.

“Most think you’ve been unofficially adopted,” Selina tells her, looking far too amused for Marinette’s liking. “Seeing as you’re too old for official avenues now.”

Marinette looks up warily from the schedule she’s rearranging. Selina had all but shoved the thing at her a month ago when she started suggesting more efficient ways of managing the CEOs’ valuable time.

“Only most? Does that mean the rest have common sense?”

Selina’s grin widens even further, if that’s possible, and Marinette regrets her question even before the older woman starts speaking.

“Oh, of course not!” she laughs delightedly. “The rest are hoping to hear news of wedding bells. It’s high time someone swept a Wayne off the market, don’t you think?”

***

“So you’re the new little sister I keep hearing about.”

Marinette stares up through narrowed eyes at the brightly smiling Dick Grayson. In her stomach, there are already the beginnings of resignation starting to form.

“It’s nice to finally meet you!”

This man is going to bring her nothing but trouble. She can tell.

***

Dick takes a liking to her. And she, against her better judgment, finds herself doing the same to him.

It’s a little hard not to, if she’s being honest. He’s bright and bubbly and brings her bagels during his morning break without her ever having asked.

It takes practically no time at all before Marinette considers him a friend, relaxing when he’s near and laughing openly at his ridiculous jokes. Despite being the head of HR, he’s not great at the whole ‘professional’ thing and often employees will walk by to find him draped across a chair or balancing precariously on the edge of her desk while she tries and fails to get some work done while he’s around.

It really doesn't help all of the ‘Marinette is a Wayne’ rumors running around. Especially when Dick starts pointedly calling her every variation of ‘little sister’ that he can think of just to annoy her (and, she knows, because he thinks the entire situation hilarious).

***

Three weeks after befriending Dick, Selina all but shoves her into Monsieur Drake’s office and, in no uncertain words, says, “He’s your problem now.”

Marinette blinks at what she can describe as nothing other than a disaster area and just… sighs.

Tim blinks back at her.

The motion is somehow both completely blank and filled with an uncomfortable amount of knowing at the same time. There is also, she notices, a frankly ludicrous amount of concealer caked beneath his eyes and more coffee cups scattered on every flat surface than Marinette has ever seen in her life.

She knows his schedule like the back of her hand seeing as she spends hours of her day pouring over it to make sure everything runs smoothly. He has no prior engagements for the next three hours.

“You’re not going to take a nap just because I ask, are you?”

He snorts. “Absolutely not.”

She nods, having expected the answer; her phone was already at her ear before he even finished speaking. “Hey, Dick!” she greets, sounding brighter than she feels at the moment, and watches as Tim stiffens in front of her. “Yeah, no. I was just wondering if you’re busy right now.” She pauses. “Oh, good! Can you come up to Tim’s office for me? Yeah, I need you to knock him out so I can fix his dumpster fire of an office.”

Tim has since started waving his hands frantically at her, panic setting in behind his eyes.

Marinette stares at him, unmoved. “Thanks, Dick! You’re the best!”

The silence after she hangs up is deafening.

“I don’t know if I should be impressed by the ease you’re manipulating me or pissed off that you’re doing it in the first place.”

She hums thoughtfully. “Does your decision have any bearing on my future employment?”

His eyes squint. “…No.”

Marinette shrugs, mind already whirling with what she’ll need to get done first and calculating how long she’ll likely have to get it done. “Then I think you should skip right over both of those and land on resignation as quickly as possible, Monsieur, because you’re going to have to get used to it regardless.”

It’s silent for a long moment, and she worries for just a second that she’s severely crossed some sort of line. Then Tim bursts out laughing instead of, you know, firing her like he probably should have.

“Oh, yeah. You’re going to fit right in here.”

Marinette doesn’t ask where the ‘here’ is. She’s pretty sure she already knows.

***

It takes ten days for Marinette to wrangle Tim’s life into something resembling order. His office is clean and organized to his liking. She’s developed a system of filing so that all paperwork goes through her and is quickly sorted into ‘can be handled by Marinette’, ‘forge his signature and tell him about it later’, and ‘actually important enough to have Tim read through’.

His schedule is the most efficient it’s ever been and Marinette is quickly honing the skill of getting him properly dressed and out of his office in under thirty minutes. (Dick is, thankfully, a great teacher and has little to no qualms about giving her the key to all his little brother’s weaknesses.)

Selina stares at her when Marinette all but drags Tim from his office, a folder tucked neatly under his arm and the sugary monstrosity of a caffeinated beverage she’s bribed him with in her own, with a whole ten minutes to spare before his meeting with the Board.

“My dear,” she says solemnly, “you are positively magic.”

She doesn’t even look up from where she’s simultaneously wrangling Tim’s hair into submission and laying his tie down flat. “You have no idea.”

***

She knows Tim is capable of professionality. She’s seen the cool facade he pulls up in front of the Board members and the kind but impersonal smile he uses on the employees of Wayne Enterprises. (He is not the Ice Prince of the Wayne family, but Marinette believes he should have some equally ruthless sounding title.) He is aloof and sharp and every inch the businessman people praise him to be.

She’s seen it. And yet…

“Monsieur. Why are all the Lexcorp contracts I gave you done in crayon?”

Tim doesn’t stop messing with his Rubix cube or even look up at her when he says, “Cause deadbeat fathers don’t deserve the respect of a pen.”

Marinette is very tired. She does not have time for this. “What are you talking about?”

“Lex is a bitchass absentee dad and I live to inconvenience him.”

“What about inconveniencing me?” she all but whines. “I can’t hand him these!”

That does make Tim look up at her, eyes wide with false innocence and mouth pouting up at her. “But sister dearest, I’m your little brother. It’s my job to inconvenience you.”

Growling in frustration is probably an inappropriate reaction to the situation.

But, Marinette thinks, so is the fact that both of the Waynes she associates with regularly seem hellbent on convincing the world that she too, is a Wayne, so.

(Is this how Alya felt dealing with the twins? Cause if so, Marinette takes back every joke she ever made—little siblings are a bitch.)

***

She meets Damian without warning.

Honestly, she never really expected to meet him at all but, well.

She finds him in Monsieur Wayne’s office, sitting at his father’s desk and doing something that she thinks is vaguely illegal, but she’s not about to tell her Boss a dozen times over how to parent his children.

Damian is a near-perfect copy of his father with darker skin and calculating green eyes. There’s also a more potent aura of danger around the child than there is around his father, like Damian hasn’t yet learned how to hide behind his public persona as his father had.

Or, Marinette looks at the teen thoughtfully, perhaps he just chooses not to.

“Monsieur Wayne,” she greets. Children like to be treated like adults, she knows, and Marinette doesn’t think this one is any different. “Selina hadn’t told me you’d be in the office today.”

“I don’t run my schedule by her,” he says flatly. A response she expected considering Dick’s stories.

“Of course not,” she agrees.

He finally deigns to look up at her and something flits across his expression, too fast for her to pick up on it. “Are those for Father? Bring them here, I’ll deal with them in his absence.”

Marinette raises her eyebrow. “I’m not sure that’s wise Monsieur.”

Damian scowls and sticks his hand out. “I’m perfectly capable of forging Father’s signature. Give them here.”

She does not move and, instead, lets her lips quirk up into the smile she’s been fighting since she stepped in here.

“I don’t doubt it,” she tells him, and she doesn't. Forgery seems exactly like the kind of skill a child who broke into the CEO’s office of a multi-billion dollar company would have. “But you’ll find that all forging of signatures has been finished for the day and that these,” she shakes the sheaf of papers lightly, “actually require your father’s attention.”

He snorts disbelievingly and it says a lot about Marinette’s life up until now that the blatant display of disrespect doesn’t piss her off but instead reminds her of Chloé and of the fact that she still needs to reschedule their spa day. It's been too long since they spent time together in person.

“Well,” she pauses and eyes the papers thoughtfully. “‘Requires’ in the sense that its information needed to trounce the Board when they start spouting off greedy bullshit about cutting corners on our humanitarian efforts. I’m not sure how much of it is actually useful for anything besides that.” She shrugs. “But homework is homework, yes?”

That gets her a thoughtful once-over. His hand lowers and he then turns back to whatever he’s messing with on his father’s computers.

“Very well,” he concedes. “Father will be back in approximately thirteen minutes. You can leave the papers and I’ll inform him of their… importance.” He smirks, but it’s more like he’s letting her in on a joke than anything else.

Marinette smiles back as she sets the folder on the desk, feeling, oddly, like she’s passed some sort of test.

***

The day after, both Dick and Tim are waiting for her with what looks like an entire bakery laid out in her workspace.

“Uh,” she says eloquently, setting her purse down on her chair because there’s not a single open space on her desk not filled with some kind of pastry. “What’s all this?”

She looks up to find neither Dick nor Tim has stopped staring at her since she walked in. “We heard you met Damian yesterday,” Dick starts warily, like he’s scared of her reaction.

The response does not abate her confusion.

“Yes, I did,” she says slowly. “That does not explain all… this.” She waves a hand, trying to encompass them as well as the state her desk is in.

The two brothers share a look.

“It’s a bribe,” Tim tells her simply and Marinette is taken aback for all of a second before her eyes suddenly narrow.

Dick cuts in hastily before she can say anything. “It’s more of an apology, really. For Damian’s behavior.”

But Marinette is confused and frustrated and just a bit offended by the apparent not-bribe at this point. She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath, but it only does so much.

“Damain’s behavior was fine,” she tells them with measured neutrality. “You two, on the other hand, are being weird and it’s freaking me out.” She crosses her arms expectantly. “Seriously, what’s going on?”

Appearing from out of nowhere, Selina drapes herself along Marinette’s shoulders and snags a raspberry scone. “I do believe,” she says as if sharing a secret, “That they are trying to keep you from quitting, kitten.”

Marinette wrinkles her nose. “Why would I quit? I like this job.”

She also likes the Waynes (in general, if not right then) and she likes Selina. The woman was a good mentor who didn’t shy away from the dirtier parts of the job and taught Marinette all she knew. (Even the bits, she noticed, that had little to nothing to do with being a personal assistant and were more likely to be found in the repertoire of a thief.

But, Marinette is in possession of her own sticky fingers and knows how to not ask questions, so. You know—curiosity killed the cat and all.)

She doesn’t voice any of that, but Selina, at least, knows it anyway. Marinette isn’t quiet about her gratitude after all.

“First meetings with the youngest Wayne don’t often go well,” Selina tells her. “In fact, I think he has a habit of making the interns cry.”

Dick makes some kind of offended noise. “Hey! He hasn’t done that since he was twelve!”

Tim elbows him in the ribs and Marinette makes a vaguely skeptical face at all three of them before deciding it wasn’t worth it. She has actual work to get done today and pastries to get rid of before she can even start.

She pats affectionately at Selina’s hand before grabbing as many boxes as she can hold. “Come on you two,” she says to the brothers. “You’re going to help me hand these out to the rest of the company.”

Dick immediately starts doing as told but Tim hesitates, humming thoughtfully. “You know that’s not going to help your whole ‘I’m not actually a Wayne’ thing, right?”

She glares at him. It doesn’t stop Tim from grinning like the utterly unrepentant little shit he is.

***

Things are quiet after the Damian Incident for a whole two weeks. It’s the longest lull Marinette has had since she first started and became somehow involved with the Waynes.

It ends because Dick finds out about the crush Marinette has been nursing on the Head of Security for three months now.

The Head of Security who is Jason Todd: second eldest Wayne sibling and Dick’s brother.

He takes it better than expected.

(Almost, she thinks later, a little too well.)

***

Despite her friendship with Dick and Tim—or perhaps because of it?—Jason had never seemed very interested in her. At first, Marinette had shrugged and counted it as a win; there was one Wayne, at least, who neither found her situation funny nor used it to poke fun at her.

They were on friendly terms, she supposed. Security has always been one of her more regular stops in the building, so she’d spoken to him often enough. He liked complaining that she spoiled his team rotten with all her treats.

But she also noticed that he likes her cherry danishes, so.

And then she noticed how crooked his grin was when he smiled. And how he seemed to have an arsenal of nicknames for everyone he knew. And the small collection of classic romance novels filled with sticky notes he tries and fails to hide in his desk. And, and, and.

It was around the time she began unconsciously memorizing his schedule based on when he was and was not there for her pastry deliveries, that she realized she may have made a misstep somewhere.

Jason was stubborn and passionate and flipped between overly proper and crass light a damn light switch. He was also, as stated, very much not interested in her.

Not that she would’ve pursued him anyway. He was a coworker as well as her friends’ brother.

Now if only one of said brothers could understand that.

“You should ask him out,” Dick suggests not for the first time and Marinette sighs, also not for the first time.

She loves Dick—she truly does—but he has been an aggravating level of unhelpful since he found out about Marinette’s latest romantic disaster.

“I’m definitely not doing that.”

Dick groans, like she’s being the unreasonable one. “Why are you being so stubborn about this?”

“Because I don’t like embarrassing myself?” she asks rhetorically. “Not everyone can have a fairy tale romance like you and Wally.”

He throws his coffee stirrer at her. “We are not a fairy tale.”

She shoots him a flat look. She’s heard Dick talk about Wally and Tim’s told her all the stories and she was there when he and Wally finally got their shit together. Dick was unbearable for an entire week with his gooey, lovestruck new lease on life.

“You two are the definition of fairy tale. You two make fairy tales look like trashy romance novels.”

He opens his mouth to argue the point before forcibly cutting himself off. “No. Stop distracting me. We’re not talking about that; we’re talking about you and Jason.”

“There is no ‘me and Jason’,” she reminds him through her clenched teeth.

“Not yet,” he says optimistically. Like it’s a fact, like he knows something she doesn’t.

He makes her want to slam her face into a wall. Truly, he does.

***

Dick stops running his HR papers up to her office. Instead, he’s somehow convinced Jason to play errand boy for him even though he literally never looks happy about it. What used to be a flimsy excuse for Dick to slack off for a few minutes and gossip with her has now turned into awkward silence as Jason drops off the papers and leaves without even a ‘hello’.

During their shared breaks, Dick takes to orchestrating ‘chance encounters’ between her and Jason, all but shoving them into each other (and even actually shoving that one time). She catches Jason shooting dark looks at Dick every time he does it, and if she’d been holding any iota of hope at this point, it’s been smashed to dust. Jason obviously knows of his brother’s meddling and isn’t happy about it.

But Dick just can’t take the hint.

Every failed plan of his makes him steadily worse about it all—more frantic and frustrated and like he wants to strangle her for her stubbornness. (The last feeling being more than mutual.)

Dick’s meddling starts to make her and Jason’s previously friendly, if distant, relationship awkward and embarrassing. With every pointed comment, she gets closer to just punching Dick in the face. Or, maybe, she’ll just tell Wally who really ate all the chocolate strawberry macaroons she made; it’d certainly be more devastating.

***

It all comes to head on a Thursday, after most employees have left for the day.

They run into each other in a breakroom, and she watches as Jason suddenly goes stiff, eyes flicking over her shoulder to no doubt scan for Dick. That single action makes her expression sour and she slams her empty mug down with more force than was necessary.

For Kwamis sake, he looks like a cornered animal. An image not helped by the way he jumps a foot in the air and stares at her like he’s worried she’ll suddenly lunge at him.

“Can we agree this is ridiculous?” she says abruptly. “I don’t know what Dick is trying to accomplish with his wingman schtick, but we both know it’s not going to work. Can we just… agree that he’s an idiot?”

A complicated look crosses Jason’s face before he snorts wryly. “Yeah, we can agree on that. Dickie-boy has always been a few sandwiches short a picnic.”

“I know things have been awkward between us lately, and I’m sorry about that, but I hope we can keep being friends?” she says hopefully.

“What in the world do you have to be sorry about?” he asks before she can start catastrophizing about the bewildered expression he makes at her words. “It’s not your fault.”

The smile she shoots him is rueful and she shakes her hand in an ‘ehh’ type gesture. “Kinda is. And I understand if the-” she makes a vague gesture between them that she hopes properly conveys ‘my giant, stupid crush on you’, “you know, is too much for you. Just say the word I’ll try and keep out of your way.”

She’s trying to be comforting or understanding or something like that, but all her words seem to do is make him upset. “Absolutely not,” he insists. “Sunshine, you are not going to change your routine just to make me feel better.”

Marinette crosses her arms, frowning up at him. “Why shouldn’t I? If I’m making you uncomfortable-”

He makes a strangled noise in the back of his throat. “Uncomfort- Marinette. ” She jolts a bit at the use of her name. She doesn’t think he’s used it since her second week at W.E. “I’m not sure who made you think otherwise—and if it was Dick just tell me cause I’ll kick his ass —but barring the fact that I still enjoy your friendship regardless of any… feelings-” Marinette concentrates very hard on not showing emotion when he says that, “-it’s not your responsibility to deal with it.”

Okay, but… that makes no sense. Of course her feelings were her responsibility, that’s the whole point of them being hers.

“If it’s not mine, then whose responsibility is it then?” she asks, wondering where the hell his train of thought is running.

“Mine, obviously.”

She gives him a look, complete with narrowed eyes and thinly veiled judgment. “What? Is this some kind of gentleman’s martyr complex? Is that what’s happening right now?”

Jason huffs a laugh, but there’s no humor in the sound. “If me taking responsibility for my own damn feelings is a martyr complex then sure,” he snarks, not unkindly. More like he’s trying to protect himself by retreating behind a sour attitude.

Her mouth is halfway around a retort when his words catch up to her brain and she freezes.

“Your feelings?” she repeats. “Your feelings for… me?”

His voice is carefully neutral when he says, “Those would be the ones.”

Her mouth opens and closes and opens again. “You like me? Seriously?”

His face spasms at the question, starting at anger before he properly looks at her and the surprised expression on her face. He pales.

“You didn’t know?”

“No!” she squeaks, something she hasn’t done since she was fifteen. “Well Dick said but I didn’t believe him!”

And fuck, she thinks. This means Dick knew the whole damn time, didn’t he? Oh, she is so going to kill him the second she gets the chance.

Jason runs a hand down his face, covering his mouth as he gathers his bearings. Suddenly, his eyes shoot back open and land on her. “Wait. If you didn't know, then what the hell were you talking about just now?”

She blushes to the tips of her ears and buries her face in her hands so she doesn’t have to look at him. It was easy when she thought he’d figured it out himself. It’s harder now that she has to tell him. “I- I was talking about my crush on you.”

He’s quiet for so long that she gets antsy and peeks out from behind her fingers to see his expression. He’s still looking at her, but now there’s a wide, crooked smile on his face. The expression softens something in her chest and she lowers her hands.

“Really?” he asks, leaning closer.

Marinette nods, feeling a small smile spread across her lips.

He jolts forward, hands reaching for her before suddenly stopping just shy of touching. She startles a bit at the motion but doesn’t move away.

Jason licks his lips, smile smaller but no less bright. “I- can I?”

She blinks. “Can you what?”

“Kiss you.”

The blush returns full force, but with it also comes a smile, giddy and bright. She nods and no sooner than she does, is he swooping down to pull her into a toe-curling kiss. His hands cup her face with a tenderness that makes her smile, makes her giddy, and it’s not long before they’re both smiling too wide to actually kiss and are forced to break apart.

His hands fall to her back, practically engulfing her, and his chin drops onto her head. It’s warm and cozy and she thinks she could so very easily get used to this.

Later, they’re going to have to deal with Dick and Tim and Selina and the teasing they’ll no doubt have to endure—not to mention how much worse the rumors are going to get—but right now? Right now Marinette pulls Jason back down for another kiss and very pointedly doesn’t think about it.

#maribatmarch2021 #maribat #mlb x dc #jasonette #my typewriter #platonic dickinette #platonic timari

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crybabykiko · 4 years ago

Note

could you do the nsfw alphabet for atsumu please? thank you :)

Aw shit, here we go again...

NSFW Alphabet: Miya Atsumu

gn!reader focused

A/N: She hasn’t written in awhile but you know what I’m proud of it- lol be nice to me or I’ll leave forever jk I won’t but still be nice to me ily �� Atsumu is a menace I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Obviously nasty below the cut so if you’re a kid fuck off

𝕬 - 𝕬𝖋𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖊

He’s not the best, but certainly not the worst. He will take care of you, but… only after he takes care of himself first. Usually that just means he needs to take a shower. Once he does, he’s free to supply cuddles until you both fall asleep.

𝕭 - 𝕭𝖔𝖉𝖞 𝕻𝖆𝖗𝖙

He has abs so solid you could make a sharkcoochie board on them. That’s all I’m going to say about that.

𝕮 - 𝕮𝖚𝖒

When Atsumu cums… he cums hard. It’s like having an out of body experience- every nerve cell in his body is firing off as he tenses up, digging his nails into whatever flesh he can grab, and grinding his heels into the surface supporting him. He bites down so hard his teeth grind involuntarily as his face contorts in a strained statuesque vision. One low growl from deep in his chest comes out through gritted teeth as he sputters out mixtures of “that’s it,” and “don’t you dare fucking stop.”

The orgasm face of Atsumu Miya is one of the 7 wonders of the world.

𝕯 - 𝕯𝖎𝖗𝖙𝖞 𝕾𝖊𝖈𝖗𝖊𝖙

It’s not a secret per se, but he’s been exposed and clowned for eating ass… so he doesn’t wanna talk about it.

𝕰 - 𝕰𝖝𝖕𝖊𝖗𝖎𝖊𝖓𝖈𝖊

So contrary to popular belief, I don’t think he’s that experienced... he’s just lucky! (Lmaoooo all of his experience is based on like 2 actual people that he maybe got to second base with (he says third but come on we know he’s lying) and then a litany of porn. Poor thing just wants some coochie I AM HERE KING and he has no trouble finding it, he just never seals the deal. He’s someone who just kind of, knows what to do naturally. He’s able to read someone’s body by touch alone, and so he knows what you like right off the bat based on how you react. He might try a couple of things at the start to see what really makes you squirm, but once he’s got it... holy hell has he ever got it.

𝕱 - 𝕱𝖆𝖛𝖔𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝕻𝖔𝖘𝖎𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

I hate to say how easy this was- but I KNOW Atsumu is a guy who prefers doggy. I see him as a hair puller, so this is perfect for him. I also could see him being into mirrors, and this is the perfect position to make you look at what he’s doing to you, especially while he’s pulling your head back by your hair. He especially likes gripping his thumbs into the smalls of your back (he crosses his arms bc saw it in a porn once and he thinks it makes him look cool), and when he’s INTO it, he likes to smack your ass to encourage you.

𝕲 - 𝕲𝖔𝖔𝖋𝖞

Is goofy by accident. Like will sometimes try throwing in something new with his normal dirty talk that completely throws you off. He hates when you laugh at him for it, but you find it endearing.

𝕳 - 𝕳𝖆𝖎𝖗

I’m gonna… say something so controversial yet so bold:

What hair?

And yes I mean that. Smooth. He waxes. Monthly. No hair. (Besides like… legs and armpits… yah he doesn’t touch those) Naked mole rat dick but fuck it he’s Atsumu motherfucking Miya he can do what he wants.

𝕴 - 𝕴𝖓𝖙𝖎𝖒𝖆𝖈𝖞

While he’s not the most... romantic in general per se, he does want to make you feel appreciated. He’s very eager to get his, but he won’t allow himself to unless you have already. It takes restraint, but he cools himself down by having you get on top, or by leaving lingering kisses anywhere he can, saying you’re the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on.

𝕵 - 𝕵𝖆𝖈𝖐 𝕺𝖋𝖋

When he’s away from you he loves to send you videos of himself or FaceTime you. He gets you worked up enough to join him no matter where you are. He just needs to see you, he needs you to see him stroking his cock to the thought of you- he can’t cum without you telling him to.

𝕶 - 𝕶𝖎𝖓𝖐

I have to get this out but I KNOW he’s nasty. I imagine Atsumu as a huge dirty talker and also someone who’s into spitting. Both of those are just clear in my brain... like he would be pundinng you from behind, spit on your back, and then call you a slut all in 3 seconds flat but the way that you would cream? Ugh insanity he needs to be arrested he needs to be stopped

𝕷 - 𝕷𝖔𝖈𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Since he’s got money now- he’s a big fan of ordering Uber XLs or even just hiring a driver for a night on the town as a flex. But he especially loves telling his driver to put up the window partition while he annihilates you in the backseat. I just think he’s a fan of car sex in general- it just does it for him.

𝕸 - 𝕸𝖔𝖙𝖎𝖛𝖆𝖙𝖎𝖔𝖓

Loves to hear his name. Whether you’re moaning it or screaming it like it’s the only word you know, he’s always going to ask you who you belong to, and the answer is always Atsumu.

𝕹 - 𝕹𝖔!

He totally eats ass. He’s just not gonna tell anyone bc he told Osamu ONCE and now his contact name is ASStumu and he lives in fear of that getting out.

𝕺 - 𝕺𝖗𝖆𝖑

Sloppppppyyyyyy. Loves giving ~slightly~ more than receiving, simply bc he loves the sight of seeing his spit dripping down your thighs while he goes down on you. Loves eye contact when you’re going down on him.

𝕻 - 𝕻𝖆𝖈𝖊

Though I wouldn’t say he’s super experienced, I know he’s relentless. He fucks. Literally just fucks. Not in the sense that he only treats you like a hole bc yikes, but in the sense that he just goes the speeds of fast or faster. There’s no slow with him.

𝕼 - 𝕼𝖚𝖎𝖈𝖐𝖎𝖊

Yeah. Lots of them. Anywhere, anytime. Particularly for him, a lot of them end up being in his car, simply because you’ll be out somewhere and the mood strikes. He’ll quickly take you out to the car for a few minutes, slut you out, and then return to the function like nothing happened. You’ve had many a quickie in a bathroom or closet in a party as well. When he wants you, he wants you, so he’s not afraid to take you.

𝕽 - 𝕽𝖎𝖘𝖐

Not as much of a risk-taker as people think. Mostly because he wants to protect you. He would hate for someone to see you in such a compromising position… but also, you’ve had your fair share of quickies in the bathrooms of various wedding receptions, so he’s lying.

𝕾 - 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖒𝖎𝖓𝖆

Can last a decent amount of time, if he spreads it out over multiple rounds. I’m general, he can probably go about 2 or 3 rounds without needing a break. More if you draw out foreplay with him. He’s a pleaser, so really how long he lasts is up to you. He’s got the power and control to hold off on is own release until he’s certain you absolutely can’t take anymore.

𝕿 - 𝕿𝖔𝖞

One of those mfs who gets you the mold of his dick as a toy for your birthday for when he’s away because according to him “you’ll be so needy while I’m gone”

I hate him so much but I would use that shit every day he knows what he’s doing I’m so upset

𝖀 - 𝖀𝖓𝖋𝖆𝖎𝖗

Speaking of being needy- he loves to egg you on when you are. He knows all the buttons to push, but he’ll never actually make the move until you’re begging. And of course he loves to turn that around in you, hitting you with that “god, ya just can’t get enough of me, can ya?”

𝖁 - 𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖚𝖒𝖊

He’s more of a talker than a moaner. Not necessarily loud in bed- but very, very vocal. Commanding of you in a good way, and will definitely show his appreciation through praise.

𝖂 - 𝖂𝖎𝖑𝖉𝖈𝖆𝖗𝖉

Actually has a Cosmo subscription bc he likes trying all the strange and obscure sex positions in the articles. Also likes taking the quizzes, and will casually have you do them with him at breakfast.

𝖃 - 𝖃-𝕽𝖆𝖞

he’s a little on the thicker side. Its probably a good 7 inches, so it’s enough to fill you, add in the stretch of his girth and it’s a good, mild burn when he first goes in, but he fills you just enough without it being way too much. He’s a shower, so he doesn’t get much longer, but you have a lot to work with. He also has a cute freckle on his left inner thigh.

𝖄 - 𝖄𝖊𝖆𝖗𝖓𝖎𝖓𝖌

His sex drive is on the higher end, but really only when he’s in his off season. When he’s actively playing in games, he tries to curb his appetite a bit because he believes in the superstition that sex messes with players’ stamina on the court.

𝖅 - 𝖅𝖟𝖟

He’s gonna knock out, but not until he showers. He ALWAYS showers after. The water soothes his muscles and by the time he’s done it’s lights out.

Taglist Starseeds (link in nav to join): @honey-makki @acciobrooms @sen-brainrot @the-3d-sky-sister @minato-hoe @strawberrymakki @prettyforpapiiwa @arixtsukki @freyafolkvangr @milanapolitana @notjasmin @keishinsuke

If ur url is bolded, send me a dm! ✨

#haikyuu x reader #hq x reader #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu hcs #hq headcanons #hq hcs #atsumu smut #atsumu x reader #haikyuu smut #hq smut #daisy’s red light district 🚨

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capricorn-stark · 4 years ago

Text

Smoke and Mirrors

pairing: jason todd x reader, childhood friends

warning: language, slightly heated towards the end but it’s very mild, smoking - i’m not a smoker nor do i condone it, don’t do it kids

a/n: references some early stuff from RHATO (2011)

“The girls at the diner used to call those cancer sticks.”

You thought it was pretty ironic for him to say that when he plucked the cigarette you were holding right out of your hand, leaning against the railing of the balcony and seeming utterly unabashed. You hadn’t even heard him landing beside you until he started speaking.

You made a face at him as he unlocked and slid his helmet off while grinning at you in a typical self-satisfied fashion, bringing the cigarette to his own lips.

“Let me guess,” you started dryly, watching a plume of smoke swirl out of his mouth as he took a drag. “That’s why you took their warning very seriously and told yourself to never, ever smoke one.”

“I never said that,” he protested with another obnoxious laugh as he turned to glance over at you. “You made that shit up yourself. Not my problem.”

You rolled your eyes at him before moving to fish out your pack and lighter out again, half-heartedly settling another one between your lips and lighting it up. Jason’s eyes followed the smoke back to you, his own expression unreadable.

“And I thought you said you quit this shit.”

You shrugged, not quite looking at him when you opened your mouth to answer.

“People say stuff all the time, Hood. What did you expect?” Your words were directed towards a little more than just smoking. A beat passed before he shrugged it off.

“Hell if I know.”

You both sat there for a while in silence as you smoked, watching the grey clouds stray towards the hazy glow of the setting sun on the horizon. The city beneath you was beautiful tonight, a seemingly endless stretch of dark gleaming buildings reflecting the pinks and oranges of the sunset. You wanted to relish that moment more than anything for a while, and you did.

You closed your eyes and let the cigarette leave your mouth, clouds falling from your lips, nicotine buzzing in your bloodstream.

It would be a beautiful night. You could tell.

When you opened your eyes, you felt Jason’s eyes on you again and your turned your head to meet them. In the sunset, they really did glow a strange hue of green - yet another marker from his swim in the Lazarus. You hadn’t seen those eyes in quite a while.

“What, you want to take a picture?” you started in a somewhat jestful tone at his expression. “It’ll last longer.”

“Would you let me?” was his rather cocky comeback as he took his own cigarette out of his mouth, another smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. “‘cus I don’t have anything against that idea, per se-”

“I was joking-”

“Right, totally.”

“I was!” The look on his face was infuriating enough to let you know that he didn’t believe shit. You let out a rather long and weary sigh. “I thought you weren’t planning on coming back anytime soon.” And at last, the disdain you had been trying so hard to contain from him was surfacing in your tone.

And clearly, from the way he was staring at you, he seemed to notice.

His latest adventures with his new friends, dubbed The Outlaws, hadn’t exactly been on the down-low. You knew one of them, Roy Harper, from being his best friend from a long time ago, and you had seen the glowing orange alien chick who accompanied them for the past few months on the news after he had taken off from Gotham.

You couldn’t deny the fact that you had been more than a little dismayed by the fact that he hadn’t even bothered to give you some sort of goodbye before they left, either - no visits, no phone calls, no letters, not even a poorly placed sticky note on the front of your apartment door left to get swept away by some janitor when it fell off.

You woke up one morning and heard from his brother that he wasn’t around Gotham anymore, no real explanations as to why the hell that was.

He just disappeared.

“You’re not thrilled to see me?” he attempted with mock hurt, and you gave him a very unimpressed look. “Sure, doll. I see how it is.” You acted like the nickname didn’t affect you as much as it did, because he didn’t deserve the satisfaction of otherwise.

“You know what I mean, Jason.”

“I thought it was Hood?” He caught your look again. “Jeez, I’m just fucking around.” The silence stretched on and he at least had the sense to look a little guilty when he spoke again. “Y/N. Listen, I’m - I’m sorry.”

You didn’t say anything for a while, your eyes still fixed ahead on the horizon. What did he expect you to say?

“I didn’t plan on leaving like that, I just - shit happened. And I didn’t want to stay in this shithole of a city for longer than I had to, anyways.”

Of course. He was bad at goodbyes, so he never said them. You were above chasing after him, so you never did.

“You could’ve at least made a call after you left.” The cigarette was still burning in your hands, the white filter crumbling away in the wind. “Or, I dunno, sent a text, or even a damn email or something. Anything.” Even you were surprised by the contempt lacing your voice with every word you spoke. You had told yourself he had to have had his reasons for leaving and that you wouldn’t waste your own time being angry at him. But somehow, you couldn’t help it. It had hurt more than you chose to realize. “It’s been months.” For once, his passive expressions and sarcasm had been replaced with something else.

Remorse.

“I didn’t think it would be that big of a deal to you.” You almost let out an incredulous laugh at that.

“Not a big deal to me? Are you serious?” You turned back to face him and he pursed his lips, clearly having realized that he had said the wrong thing. “After you came back - from the dead - and after everything that happened, you seriously thought I wouldn’t care what happened to you?” Jason opened his mouth, then wisely closed it while you tossed your cigarette down to crush it beneath your heel. “Wow, Jason, you knew me way better than I thought you did.”

“I didn’t mean to leave,” he tried again after a beat, taking a half-step towards you. “I wasn’t - I was on a mission, and this submarine thing with the dudes I was dealing with blew up, and then I woke up like a week later on this island thing with a Tamaranean alien princess who thought I was Dick, and then I found out Roy was gonna get executed, so-” He seemed to realize how incredulous that sequence of events sounded from the look on your face. So he let out a sigh, wringing his hands. “Okay. Yeah. I was kind of a douche.”

“Kind of?”

“I was definitely a douche,” he amended with another sigh, running a hand through his dark hair. He took a breath. “But I did mean it. I’m sorry.”

And you knew he meant it when he said that. Even back in his unruly days as a Robin, when your friendship had first formed, you had figured out that it was ridiculously hard for Jason Todd to let go of his pride and apologize for basically anything. When he got older, it admittedly hadn’t gotten all that much better.

Until now, apparently. Just a little. And you could never stay angry at him for very long, as much as you might have tried.

You let out a sigh yourself, glancing up at him.

“When did you even get back?”

Jason made a show of fishing his phone out of his pocket and taking a look before answering.

“About - twenty minutes ago.” He cleared his throat a little. “I wanted to see you.” There it was again - that infuriating feeling in your chest.

“Did you?” You tried to keep your tone as neutral as possible as he rubbed the back of his neck, somewhat awkwardly glancing away from you before he spoke again.

“Yeah. I missed you.”

Well fuck. That was a big one.

“I guess I missed having you around. Sometimes.” He chuckled at your attempt to be nonchalant, stepping even closer to you.

“That’s it? That’s all I get?” You rolled your eyes at him, refusing to say otherwise. You weren’t about to give in to him.

“Yeah, that’s all you-” Before you could finish, he had cut you off with a kiss. And in another moment, after his arms wrapped around your waist to pull you in closer, you realized your entire train of thought had been derailed completely because your best friend was kissing you.

“Get?” he offered when he pulled away again, another rather smug smile playing at his lips when you managed to look at him again, clearly flustered. “You sure about that?”

You appropriately told Jason to fuck off before you pulled him down towards you again for another kiss. And that kiss turned into another, then another, and another.

Your seemingly blasé attitude towards him and his constant teasing towards you had always helped you both shy away from whatever it was that you actually felt towards the other. It was easier to laugh at each other, or flirt, or push each other away than to actually move past your pride and admit how you felt.

But then again, between tender caresses and heated kisses, you didn’t think there was a need to really say anything out loud. Where his hands were on your body alone could tell anyone what was going on in his head.

You had missed him more than you could express in words, and it was increasingly clear that he had felt the exact same way. Your relationship had always toyed at the fine line between friendship and something more, and your actions in that moment had firmly moved you both past the former.

For so many years, your respective egos had provided a cover from a truth neither of you had been ready to come to terms with. But now, beneath the haze of cigarette smoke, sheets, and Gotham sunsets, you could finally see what exactly that was. There had always been something more underneath all of your smoke and mirrors.

And although it wouldn’t be right then and there, eventually, you’d clear all of that smoke away.

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charincharge · 4 years ago

Text

I Don’t Want To Wait, nineteen

rowaelin high school bff au masterlist

Based on the prompts:

Walking in on Lyria/Rowan in a compromising position

How the hell are you two friends? We’re not. Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer.

Aelin sighed as she scrolled through her texts. Putting Lorcan and Lysandra on the same group text had turned out to be her own undoing. Together, they were a tag team that she had not been prepared for, bouncing ideas back and forth with a never-ending list of potential suitors.

She rolled her eyes as Lysandra’s latest text came through.

WE HAVE A HOMECOMING DANCE CONTENDER!

Lorcan’s text came quickly after.

Don’t spoil it. I want to see her face in person when we tell her.

Monsters. Both of them. It seemed that something they could both agree on was wanting to be Aelin’s wingman, and it had bonded the two faster than Aelin could have predicted.

Because apparently Aelin was too picky. When the first names started rolling in, all Aelin could think was all of the reasons why they wouldn’t be a good match for her. She looked at the unanswered notification on her phone, not clicking into the text from Rowan, but reading the words clearly.

Will I see you at Homecoming?

She didn’t know why she was having such a hard time replying to it. The answer was yes. She would be there, of course. But she was nervous that if she told him that, she’d inevitably have to make plans to meet up. And she definitely didn’t want to hang out with him and Lyria on the cheerleader’s big night.

Homecoming was a huge affair at Orynth High – a full weekend extravaganza with a pep rally around a bonfire, followed by the game and a dance on Saturday night. And of course, Lorcan would be hosting a giant after party. Aelin had always loved Homecoming. She and Rowan had always gone out to dinner before the pep rally and heckled the game from the sidelines, then Aelin would force him to come to the dance, mocking the way he’d grump about going but inevitably have a good time. It was one of her favorite school traditions, but this year she was dreading it. She knew it wasn’t going to be anything like the last two Homecomings.

Coffee Cat in 30? Lysandra asked, interrupting her train of thought, and Aelin chuckled when Lorcan sent back a thumbs up immediately.

She supposed she had nothing better to do today. It certainly beat staring at Rowan’s unanswered text.

Thirty minutes later, Aelin was shocked to find her friends packed into the corner couch section of Manon’s favorite coffee spot. She hadn’t anticipated them all being there, but sure enough, Lysandra, Elide, Manon and Lorcan were all there, drinks in hand, whispering softly. Manon sat as far away from Lorcan as possible, her golden eyes narrowed as she greeted Aelin with a stiff smile. Aelin had gathered the two had bad blood, but hadn’t been able to suss out where it came from.

Lysandra patted the seat next to her and handed her a hazelnut coffee. Aelin moaned appreciatively as she took a sip.

“Okay, hit me.”

The group looked at each other conspiratorially before Lysandra beamed. “Chaol Westfall.”

“No,” Aelin responded automatically.

Lysandra held up her hand with a frown. “Hear us out! You’ve turned down at least ten other guys, and this one is a really good option!”

“He’s my lab partner!” Aelin insisted. “I’m not willing to tank my Physics grade for a handful of dates that will inevitably end poorly.”

Manon scoffed loudly. “Defeatist,” she said at the same time Lorcan said, “Cynic.”

They briefly made eye contact and looked away quickly again. Aelin could feel her lips purse in curiosity. But she wasn’t able to ask what was on her mind because Elide did it for her. “Why aren’t you two friends?” she couldn’t help but ask.

Manon laughed, her head tipping back wildly. “Because we’re mortal enemies,” she said with a wry smile at her girlfriend.

Elide looked between the pair, so starkly different in appearance – one pale and white haired, the other dark skinned and dark haired – and shrugged. “Keep your friends close but your enemies closer, right?”

Lorcan raised a dark brow in Elide’s direction and smiled in a way that Aelin had never seen before. It made her strangely nervous. And if the vice grip Manon was keeping on Elide’s hand was any indication, she felt similarly.

“Back to Chaol,” Lysandra quipped, and Aelin could feel herself slouch over, annoyed. They really weren’t going to let this one go. “He’s smart. You know that because you are lab partners. He’s so polite. You already know he’s a good dancer. Remember your birthday party?”

Aelin nodded, though the memory of dancing with Chaol seemed like lifetimes ago, not mere months.

“I think he’s a super solid option,” Elide chimed in.

Aelin sighed. “And what if I ask him and he says no?”

Lorcan held up a finger. “We have a backup choice. Obviously.” Aelin held her breath, waiting for the other name to drop. “Fenrys Moonbeam.”

“What?” Aelin replied, confused. “No. He’s on the lacrosse team with Rowan.” The rest of the group stared at her, as if her comment meant anything. “I don’t want anything I do to eventually make its way to locker room talk!” she explained, her frustration with her friends rising by the minute.

“Stop shooting every suggestion down!” Manon huffed, clearly just as annoyed with Aelin.

“What are we shooting down?” Rowan’s voice called from behind the group, and Aelin jumped as she felt his hand touch her shoulder. She glanced over her shoulder at the tall boy, hovering over the back of the couch and watched as he removed his hand from her quickly, shoving it back into his pocket as he glanced at the group of friends.

“We’re trying to come up with a boyfriend for Aelin,” Lorcan explained, all too aware of the grenade he’d just launched. Aelin glared at him.

“Oh?” Rowan replied, his eyebrows shooting up into his forehead. Aelin wished she could stand up and push it back down.

“But she’s being a total naysayer,” Lysandra frowned.

“Good,” Rowan said, exhaling quickly, causing Aelin to frown at him. What does that mean? She asked him silently, and he backed off immediately. “I just mean, no one at school is nearly good enough for you.”

There was a pregnant pause of silence while Aelin struggled to find something to say in response to him, but she couldn’t think of a single thing, other that – what about you? Are you good enough? She shook the thought from her head.

“I still vote Chaol,” Lorcan chimed in, causing Aelin to sigh again.

“If I ask Chaol to Homecoming, will you all leave me alone?” she asked. She wasn’t surprised in the least to see four matching grins staring back at her. “Though, I still don’t think he’s going to say yes,” she added.

Rowan coughed lightly behind her, and she looked over her shoulder again as he cleared his throat. “I don’t think you have to worry about that,” he said, his eyes suddenly trained on the floor, his sneaker tapping lightly.

“What are you even doing here?” Aelin asked, feeling annoyed with his response, until he blanched and then she just felt like a dick for snapping.

“Sometimes Maeve sends me to do competition recon,” he said with a shrug. “So I guess I should…” He pointed in the direction of the coffee counter. “But I’ll see you at Homecoming.” His voice was soft as it addressed her, and Aelin could feel her stomach clench slightly. She nodded, waving goodbye as he made his way to the front of the line.

“Awkwardddd,” Lorcan sang, and Aelin glared at him again. Lorcan held up his hands, laughing. “What? I knew he had a new girlfriend, but I didn’t realize you two had broken up.”

Aelin felt her eyes narrow at the oafish boy on the opposite couch as the group burst out laughing, at her expense, per usual. “You all suck.”

She sighed at the expectant faces looking her way. “So, Chaol?” she asked, still unsure about it.

“Chaol,” they replied in unison, spurring another round of giggles. Aelin was so annoyed, she barely even noticed Rowan glance over his shoulder at the laughing group before exiting the coffee shop quietly.

. . .

It turned out everyone’s assessment had been correct. Despite it only being a few days warning, Chaol had enthusiastically accepted Aelin’s invite to the dance. He also asked if she’d want to go to the pep rally together, completely surprising her. Not particularly ready for a one-on-one date, she suggested he join her group of friends, which he was more than happy to do.

Aelin stared at her sweatshirt and jeans and wondered if she should dress up more for a date, but she shook it off. It was going to be freezing cold at the pep rally and game, and she wasn’t exactly trying too hard to impress the boy who had seen her strung out in science labs most days.

She was just finishing lining her eyes with dark liner when the doorbell rang. She tried to run downstairs and beat her dad, but Rhoe opened the door with a small smirk. “Hello?” he said to the brunette boy on the other side of the door.

Chaol was also wearing a sweatshirt and jeans, and Aelin breathed a sigh of relief that they both seemed to be on the same page. She bounded up to the door, pushing her dad out of the way as she made her way out of the house.

Rhoe cleared his throat. “Aelin, aren’t you going to introduce me?” he asked, and she could see the laughter in his blue eyes as she tried to sneak away.

“Dad, this is Chaol. Chaol, this is my dad.”

Chaol stuck out his hand stiffly, and Rhoe smiled as he took the boy’s hand in his. “Mr. Galathynius. It’s so nice to meet you officially. My name is Chaol Westfall,” he began all too politely. “Thank you for letting me take Aelin out tonight,” he said, and Aelin’s cheeks burned with a furious blush at her dad’s widening smile.

“You are most welcome,” Rhoe replied sarcastically, and Aelin wished the ground would open up and swallow her whole. She could already tell this date wasn’t going to go well if Chaol thought Rhoe let Aelin do anything.

“Shall we?” Chaol asked, extending his arm to Aelin, and she took it, looking back at her dad as Chaol opened the passenger door to his small sedan.

It was weird to be so, handled? Aelin was so used to being independent that it was strange to have someone opening and closing doors for her. It was not her usual. She wasn’t sure how she felt about it. But she knew she needed to just relax and give Chaol a fair shot. At least, that’s what her friends would say.

The drive to school was short, but awkward. Chaol tried to fill the silence with questions about her week, but the pair had seen each other every day that week during class, and it felt like there wasn’t really that much to say.

Luckily, they’d decided to meet up with Lysandra and Wes for the pep rally, and Aelin was grateful that they’d saved them spots beside them. She greeted her friends with hugs, but she paused when she saw Rowan on the other side of Wes. She hadn’t anticipated him being a part of their group tonight. She didn’t know why. It hadn’t even crossed her mind.

“H-hey?” she said. His reply was overwhelmed by a massive wave of cheers as Principal Havilliard lit the bonfire, which came blazing to life in front of them. It immediately warmed Aelin, sending a small shiver down her spine.

“Are you cold?” Chaol asked, his chestnut eyes filled with concern. “I have an extra jacket in my car I can grab for you.”

“No, I’m fine, thanks,” Aelin replied. He nodded happily and watched as the pep rally started, but Aelin couldn’t focus at all. Her eyes kept sliding to the side where Rowan’s bright hair peeked out over Wes’s head. It seemed like he was getting even taller every day.

She felt this strange pressure, this weird tension settling around her shoulders, tugging her towards Rowan. She was so focused on him that she startled, surprised, as Chaol slid his hand into hers, linking their fingers.

She looked over, but Chaol wasn’t looking at her at all. He was listening to Principal Havilliard welcome everyone to the rally with a small smile on his lips. Aelin exhaled as she squeezed his hand back. It wasn’t exactly comfortable or natural, but she was giving this a chance.

She felt her heart pound as the cheerleaders ran out in front of the fire, starting their routine. Lyria settled in the front row and Aelin swallowed thickly as she watched her warm brown eyes seek out Rowan in the audience. Aelin refuse to look at Rowan’s face as he watched her. Instead, Aelin focused on the dancing girls in front of her. She watched with a wildly beating pulse as their green and gold uniforms flounced with every move. It was almost indecent.

At the end of the routine, Lyria broke form and skipped into the crowd, making her way straight to Rowan. And Aelin could feel the pressure on her hand increase as Lyria grabbed Rowan by the neck and pulled him in for a large kiss. Too large for public, if Aelin was honest.

Lyria smiled as she pressed her lips against Rowan’s again before making her way back to the group of cheerleaders, who giggled wildly at her. Despite the fire raging in front of her face, Aelin felt completely frozen. She didn’t even process the rest of the rally, ignoring the rest of the cheers and cries, until Chaol tugged at her hand.

“You ready to go?” he asked, and Aelin nodded, still in a bit of a daze.

They were silent again on the ride home, and Aelin could feel her mood souring as they pulled into her driveway. Tonight was supposed to be fun, but she couldn’t stop thinking about Rowan long enough to give Chaol the time of day. She felt awful.

Biting her lip, she decided to do something drastic. Just to get Rowan out of her head.

“So,” Chaol began as he put his car into park, but Aelin ignored him and leaned over the console and kissed him. Her hands went to his hair, tugging the dark hair as tightly as she could to her face.

If Chaol was surprised, he barely showed it, his lips moving beneath hers, responding surely and confidently. His lips were rough and chapped and dry, and their lips seemed to mash against each other uncomfortably, instead of fitting together. The lack of chemistry was so evident, that Aelin wasn’t even offended when Chaol pulled away, wiping his mouth. What a disaster.

“Umm…” Her eyes fell to her lap as she chuckled softly. “Sorry.”

She was trying to figure out a way to let Chaol down easily. It was so clear there was no romantic spark between the two when Chaol started laughing loudly. She looked back up, his brown eyes warm with laughter as he smiled at her. He pushed a strand of her pink hair behind her ear and clasped his hand on her shoulder.

“That was…” He laughed again. “Oh gods.” He looked at her with apologetic eyes, and she couldn’t help but sigh in relief. “We’re still friends, right?”

At least they were on the same page. She nodded, laughter bubbling up in her chest, too. She supposed this is why she needed to start dating. To see who she actually connected with. It turned out Chaol was not that person.

“Do you still want to go to the dance together tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m still game,” he said, reassuring her.

“As friends?” Aelin said, and Chaol smiled widely.

“As friends,” he said.

Aelin couldn’t stop laughing as she made her way out of the car, getting her phone out to update the group text on their candidate.

Chaol = DUD. I’ve never had such a bad kiss.

She nearly dropped her phone as Rowan texted back. LOL.

Another text quickly followed. Sorry, don’t mean to laugh. I’m very sorry to hear that.

Aelin practically smacked her face with her hand as she groaned and all caps texted back in a flurry. THAT TEXT WAS FOR LYS, NOT YOU. UGHHHHH.

He didn’t reply again, and so Aelin put her phone away as she got ready for bed. She knew she should text the group chat for real, but she was too keyed up, thinking about Rowan. It’d been so long since his name lit up her phone, she forgot the electric jolt that ran through her spine when it happened.

And though she knew she shouldn’t have been thinking about him, she couldn’t help but run her hand between her legs, imagining what it’d be like to kiss him instead. She had a feeling that Rowan’s lips would be soft, and she wondered if their mouths would fit together perfectly. She didn’t let herself think too hard about how quickly she brought herself to release thinking of him, succumbing to sleep quickly after.

. . .

“Do you want a drink?” Chaol asked, slightly breathless, as the fast song morphed into a too-sexy R&B hit for their dance comfort.

Aelin nodded, tugging at the neckline of her dark green dress. Her dad had surprised her with it, and she couldn’t even begin to express how good she felt in it. It was the perfect length, hitting just above her knee with a soft flounce, and the neckline was tightly fitted slight sweetheart, held up by two thin spaghetti straps. It was perfect. And despite being at the dance with just a friend, she still felt remarkably beautiful. It was a strange but delightful feeling.

After their short drink break, Chaol and Aelin returned to the dance floor. She’d forgotten how much Chaol loved to dance – in that respect, her friends had chosen wisely. She ignored their pointed looks all night, though, content to just have fun with Chaol. Which, strangely, she was. Having fun. In fact, she was having so much fun that she barely even noticed when Rowan and Lyria entered the dance, hand in hand. Instead, she refocused on Chaol, her limbs flailing as she tried to keep up with the boy in front of her.

As the succession of dance songs morphed into a slower beat, Aelin anticipated Chaol taking them off the floor again, but instead, he stepped closer and hovered his hand over her waist, his eyebrow raised in question. They stared at each other for an awkward moment, wondering if this was somehow breaching the friend agreement they’d come to, but Aelin figured slow dancing with a friend was totally fine. In fact, they’d done it before.

She nodded, and he smiled, stepping closer as he slid his hand around her back, pulling her close. They swayed to the music, Chaol leading her around in circles, taking back out his ballroom dance skills and showing them off.

“I forgot what a good dancer you are,” she said, looking up at him with a coy smile. He grinned outright, spinning her under his arm and pulling her back in time with the music, never falling out of step. Aelin’s skirt flared around her knees, and she couldn’t help but tilt her head back and laugh at the sensation. It felt so good to release her worries, just for a little bit.

“My mom will be so pleased to hear that,” he said with a soft chuckle.

Aelin found herself laughing, tripping over her own feet as she tried to keep up with him, causing Chaol to snort.

“You, on the other hand…”

Aelin pretended to be offended, a pronounced frown on her lips, her brow furrowed as she chastised him. “Hey! I am extremely graceful.”

As if on cue, she tripped over her foot again, falling into Chaol’s chest with a soft thump. Both laughing, wide smiles on their faces, Chaol managed to save her fall by spinning it into a low dip.

When the dance came to a close, Aelin looked around to see a small circle of people had formed around them, applauding wildly. Chaol stepped aside and pointed to Aelin, who curtseyed as a soft blush colored her cheeks.

When the circle cleared, Aelin caught a glance of a slumped over figure on the bleachers, sitting alone, dark green eyes marred by a furrowed brow and pronounced scowl on his face. Rowan did always hate a school dance. Her heartbeat picked up as she stared at him, looking dapper in his dark grey suit. How many times had she danced with him at a school dance? It felt so odd to her to see him so far away, annoyed and alone. Her eyes flitted across the floor, looking for Lyria. She was with her usual gaggle of friends, completely unfazed by her lonely boyfriend sitting in the corner.

Aelin warred with herself, wanting to go over and say hello to him, but also knowing that she shouldn’t do that. She was just about to look away when his green eyes lifted and met hers across the room. She waved briefly, hesitant and unsure in her small gesture, but it was met with such a contented grin that she couldn’t bring herself to regret doing it.

She was about to take a step toward him when Lysandra came rushing up to her in a whirl, her arm hooking around Aelin’s and spinning her in the opposite direction.

“Come on, it’s time to head to Lorcan’s,” she said. “This party’s getting stale.”

Aelin rolled her eyes, but laughed regardless. She knew what her friend was doing. Keeping her away from Rowan. She couldn’t be trusted, left to her own devices.

Aelin looked over to Chaol, figuring she should extend the invite to him, too. “Do you want to come?” she asked, and she felt her stomach sink slightly as Chaol shook his head.

“No offense, that’s just not really my scene.”

“No offense taken,” she said quickly.

“I can drive you there, though, if you need a ride?” he offered, and Aelin was once again thrown off by how polite he was.

Lysandra smiled and wrapped her arm around Aelin’s shoulders, squeezing them tightly. “Aren’t you just the sweetest? Nah, we’ve got her.”

“Thanks, though,” Aelin said sincerely. She was grateful for Chaol’s company. With his distraction, she’d been able to keep her mind off of Rowan in a way she hadn’t before. Maybe her friends were right. She should be less of a cynic and defeatist. She could find someone. It wouldn’t be Rowan, and it definitely wouldn’t be Chaol, but, it’d be someone.

. . .

At Lorcan’s the party was already raging, the rest of them far behind the drunken students who’d left the dance early to go in search of free beer and better music.

“Babesss,” Lorcan slurred, his dark eyes unfocused as he sipped at some gross-smelling green concoction. “You’re finally here!”

He looked at Lysandra with a raised brow. “How’d it go?”

Lysandra sighed and placed her hands on her hips. “Well, she’s here alone, so I guess you were right.”

Lorcan snorted loudly. “Sorry, but I told you. The Goody Two Shoes wasn’t going to cut it.”

Lysandra handed Lorcan a twenty-dollar bill, and Aelin gaped.

“You know, I am standing right here,” she said, completely annoyed that her friends were betting on her love life.

“What?” Lorcan laughed, slinging his arms around the two girls and leading them into the kitchen. He dunked two cups into a trash bag and pulled out neon green liquid.

“What is this?” Aelin asked, sniffing the concoction dubiously.

Lorcan laughed. “You don’t want to know.”

Aelin took a tiny sip and shuddered at the sickly sweet taste of apples and some sour liquor she was sure was potent as anything.

“Just… drink it slow,” Lorcan said with a pointed brow in Aelin’s direction.

“Rude,” Aelin laughed. “I’ve learned!”

“She has,” Lysandra assured Lorcan, who couldn’t resist grinning at the two girls.

“In that case…” He paused dramatically. “Who wants to play beer pong?”

Both girls cheered exuberantly, causing Aelin to smile. If she’d told herself that she’d be part of Lorcan’s inner circle, personally invited to play beer pong with him and his friends, she would not have believed it. Things had really changed since her first Lorcan Salvaterre party.

As they approached the beer pong table, though, she was hit with a wave of déjà vu as the Moonbeam twins welcomed her with matching grins. It was almost an exact replica of the night she had made the decision to kiss Rowan. Only instead of Rowan at her side, now it was Lorcan. Something about that made her feel strange and unsettled. She looked around, as if Rowan would magically appear at her side out of thin air, but he was nowhere to be found among the throngs of drunk upperclassmen.

Fenrys cocked his head at her approach and threw a tanned arm around her shoulders. “Aelin Galathynius, as I live and breathe.”

“Fen,” Connall said in a low, warning tone.

“What? I’m just welcoming a beautiful girl to our table.” Fenrys winked at Aelin, bringing a soft blush to her cheeks under his attentions.

“Babe, are you blushing?” Lorcan laughed, poking at her reddened cheek.

“No!” Aelin said, swatting his hand away. “It’s this disgusting drink,” she said, but she couldn’t help but let her eyes slide back to Fenrys. Despite her insistence that she shouldn’t get involved with someone on the lacrosse team, there was no denying that Fenrys was incredibly attractive. And he had called her beautiful. It felt nice.

Fenry’s winked again as he caught her eye, and she was sure her face was flaming as the rest of the table burst into laughter. He let his arm fall from her shoulder to the small of her back, rubbing it softly as he took his first shot.

“Come on, partner,” he said, nudging her hip with his and sinking his first shot, much to Lorcan’s chagrin. “Sorry Con,” he said, shooting a sly smile at his twin, who simply flicked him off as he skulked away into the party.

As they played, Aelin could feel herself loosening up. Lysandra and Lorcan were predictably a power team, sinking every single shot flawlessly. And with each cup of beer Fenrys drank, he got a little looser himself, his hand grazing her arm, her back, her side, pushing her hair behind her ear with small little teasing motions.

It was different than being touched by Rowan. It didn’t have that same shock to her system, jolting her awake, but it was still electric, just at a much lower voltage.

And even though they’d lost three games to Lorcan and Lysandra, Aelin was feeling on top of the world. The green drink coursing through her system had taken its toll, making her feel light and floaty and warm all over.

“Again?” Lorcan asked, stacking the cups back into a pyramid, but Aelin shook her head.

“Oh,” Fenrys said, his shoulders sagging with disappointment at Aelin’s decision to stop playing. It made her feel invulnerable.

“I was thinking maybe we could do something else instead?” Aelin said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, causing the boy to snap his dark eyes in her direction.

“Yeah?” he asked, stepping closer to her, his body suddenly mere inches away from hers. Aelin leaned over on her toes and whispered in his ear, her voice low and gravelly from alcohol.

“Wanna go upstairs and makeout?” she asked, her heart pounding at how brazen she was being, but there was something about Fenrys’s confident smile and flirty touches that reassured her in her pursuits.

A wicked smile curled across Fenrys’s lips as his eyes gleamed. “I thought you’d never ask.”

Aelin grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the stairs as Lysandra and Lorcan whooped and hollered behind them. Aelin ignored them, focusing on the feel of Fen’s hand delicately twined with hers.

At the top of the stairs, Fenrys’s control snapped, and Aelin found herself pushed up against the hallway wall with his mouth on top of hers. His lips tasted like stale beer with just a faint hint of the sticky sweet apple drink, and she found that she didn’t mind it at all. She wrapped her hands in his curly hair as his hands slid across the silky fabric of her dress, palms greedy to touch every cloth-covered inch he could. Warmth spread across each spot he touched, and she leaned into him.

She hummed as his mouth opened, his tongue sliding against hers roughly as her head hit the wall with a loud thump.

“Ow,” she laughed as they stumbled their way down the hall, teeth clinking against each other as they fell against each other again and again. Fenry’s reached out, trying each door they reached, but each and every one was locked.

“Get a room!” a booming voice called behind them.

“We’re trying,” she giggled, breathing heavily as Fenry’s moved his mouth down her neck with sloppy kisses. “Oh…” she moaned as Fenrys’s teeth scraped against the sensitive skin behind her ear. That was different. Good different.

They stumbled to the very end of the hall, Fenrys attacking her lips again as he reached behind her and turned the last door in the hallway. It turned in his grasp, and Aelin couldn’t help but moan appreciatively as Fen pressed his entire body against hers, leading them into the darkened room.

“Uhh, occupied!” a low strained voice came from the darkness, and Aelin froze, feeling like she’d been doused with a bucket of cold water.

“Rowan?” she squeaked out, refusing to look over her shoulder at whatever was going on in the bedroom behind her for fear that it might kill her.

“Aelin?!” he sputtered back, and Aelin could feel her entire body tense at the sound of rustling fabric and people moving around.

“Fenrys,” Fen said, causing Aelin to bark out a loud laugh.

“Lyria,” the girl deadpanned. Aelin’s stomach twisted uncomfortably, removing any of Fen’s attempt at levity.

“Sorry, Whitethorn,” Fenrys apologized, pulling Aelin by the waist, closer to him. “As you were…” he continued, backing up out of the room and into the brightly lit hallway. Aelin blinked several times, but all she could see was images of Rowan and Lyria, tangled in sheets, spurred on by her wildest imagination.

Fenrys leaned in to kiss Aelin again, but she was still frozen, heart pounding loudly against her ribs, so hard that it almost hurt.

He sighed loudly and gave her a reassuring smile as he took a step back. “Mood killed, huh?”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, shaking her head, willing herself to hear anything other than Rowan’s breathy tone coming from a darkened room at a party. She hated how upset she felt, how she felt like she was suffocating at the idea of him sleeping with Lyria, if that’s what they were doing. Given the circumstances, it seemed likely. Aelin swallowed back a wave of nausea.

But Fenrys refused her apology, pushing her hair behind her ear as she struggled to catch her breath. “I kind of figured.” He paused, looking at her seriously. “It’s okay,” Fenrys said with too warm a smile for how much of an asshole Aelin felt like. She covered her face, completely horrified.

“I’m gonna…” Aelin ducked under Fenry’s arm and headed toward the stairs, needing some fresh air. Luckily, Fenrys didn’t make a big deal about it at all, meandering downstairs with her and rejoining another game of beer pong as Aelin snuck into the cold night.

She wrapped her arms around her bare shoulders, sinking onto a chair on Lorcan’s front porch. She stared into the distance, willing her nausea to subside as she breathed slowly. So deep in concentration, she barely even heard anyone take the seat next to her until he began speaking.

“So, I guess you got that kiss after all…”

“Rowan…” she whined. “Can we not?” She bit her lip. “I’m already embarrassed enough.”

He frowned, pausing ominously.

“Do you hate me?” he asked quietly.

“What?” Aelin asked, startled by the question. “No, of course not.”

He shrugged, his dress shirt open and rumpled, his tie long gone. “It feels like you do.” He paused.

She wanted to snap at him, unload all her hurt on him, but she paused when she took in his face. She’d never seen him look so tired, so sad. “No, I don’t hate you,” Aelin said, giving him a soft smile and earning a small smile in return.

He exhaled a long, steady breath, and leaned back in the chair, letting the rocking chair sway back and forth as he pondered his next words.

“But you don’t want to be my friend anymore,” Rowan said suddenly. Aelin opened her mouth to protest, but Rowan barreled forward, his tone urgent. “No, you don’t. I’m not that dumb, Ace. You straight up told me. It just… sucks. Because you’re my best friend, but…” He took a deep breath. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“Ro…” Aelin said, her heart tugging, wanting to comfort the boy in front of her, but completely unsure of what to say.

“No,” he repeated. “Please let me finish.” Aelin nodded, biting her lip, forcibly preventing herself from interrupting what he so clearly needed to get out. “I was so excited when I got that text from you last night. I thought, maybe you’d decided you wanted to be friends again, and then to hear it was a mistake…” He laughed sadly. “Gods, I felt like such an idiot. You’ve always been my person.” His words came more rapidly as he got more worked up. “And you decided all of this without me, and I don’t understand. Like, telling me I didn’t need to pick you up from school anymore.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated, but Aelin couldn’t really process what he was saying.

“I just figured you wanted time alone with your girlfriend…”

He practically growled as he sighed. “Why would you assume that without asking me? I only gave her a ride the first morning because she asked if I would. I’ve been driving alone to school for weeks,” he said.

“Really?” Aelin asked, confused.

“And I know I’m going to sound like a complete tool when I say that it hurt my feelings, but… that really hurt my feelings.” Aelin opened her mouth again to say something, but nothing came out. She didn’t think she’d ever heard Rowan be so forthcoming about his feelings. He was more the type of person to hold his feelings in forever.

“I didn’t know,” Aelin whispered.

Rowan scratched at the back of his neck sheepishly. “Well, you didn’t ask. You just bailed.”

Then it was Aelin’s turn to frown. “It’s not like you tried to reach out!” she snapped, and she could see the hurt turn into anger as Rowan raised his voice again.

“Because you didn’t want me to!” he growled. “And… you seemed… fine.” He laughed sadly. “And I am so not fine.”

Aelin breathed steadily. “You think I’m fine…?” she laughed with no humor.

“Yeah!” he cried, exasperated. “You have all these friends, and I’m the loser with no other friends but you. Lys, Elide, Wes… they only invited me around because of you,” he laughed sadly. “And, I keep waiting for you to reach back out to me – I don’t want to force you to be friends with me when you clearly didn’t want that, but you never do.” He sighed loudly. “And without you, I don’t have anyone.”

Aelin whispered. “I don’t think your girlfriend would agree with that.” She scrunched her nose.

“Don’t tell me this is about Lyria, because you’ve been acting weird long since before she came around,” he huffed, and Aelin threw up her arms, annoyed with the boy in front of her who clearly didn’t understand anything.

“Maybe there’s just an expiration date on boy girl friendships,” she sighed, and she watched as Rowan’s cheeks grew red.

“Stop,” he stuttered. “That’s bullshit.” He breathed. “You put an expiration on it, not me.”

“Really?” she scoffed. “I put an expiration on us? Ro, we don’t talk about anything anymore. I just walked in on you having sex with your girlfriend!” she exploded. “I didn’t even know you were having sex anymore. Because we can’t talk about that stuff! Because it’s weird, okay? You freaked out when I hugged you, for fuck’s sake. Don’t tell me I put an expiration on our friendship because I didn’t.”

Aelin felt her heart pound with every staccato word that exited her mouth. She felt flames on the sides of her face, burning her up as she finally told Rowan how she felt.

“I…” He shook his head. “Lyria got accepted into a college prep program at the OU. If she decides to go, she’ll be gone all of November and December, and we’d be in a long distance relationship,” he said, causing Aelin’s heart to pick up pace again. Lyria was leaving? “That’s what we were talking about upstairs,” he said. “We weren’t, um… doing anything. We haven’t even done anything other than kiss.”

Aelin hadn’t realized how much she needed to hear that, and she breathed easily as the knot in her chest unfurled at Rowan’s intense stare. She hated how much better she felt. It stung and soothed her simultaneously.

“A college program?” Aelin asked.

“Yeah,” Rowan ran his hand through his hair.

“Huh,” Aelin replied, unsure of what else to say. Rowan seemed to sense it, and she couldn’t help but crack a smile. “What? She just doesn’t seem that into her studies.”

“I knew you didn’t like her!” Rowan laughed. Aelin wanted to defend herself, but she shrugged instead. She didn’t feel like getting into how the very opposite was actually the truth.

“It’s okay,” he laughed. “I’m not Fenrys’s biggest fan at the moment.”

“Rowan…” Aelin sighed. She didn’t really want to talk about this with him. She hadn’t anticipated him seeing it. She’d wanted time to process it all. But it seemed like he wasn’t going to give her that.

“I know,” he said quickly. “I know you don’t want to be my friend right now.” She watched as he scratched the back of his. “And you can go back to hating me tomorrow, I promise. But, can we just pretend tonight? For a little bit?”

She nodded, unable to deny him her friendship. The truth was, she’d missed it, too.

And so she unleashed. Aelin found herself rambling about the last month of her life, telling Rowan about how she started cooking with Maeve, how much she loved it, and her long walks home. He apologized, not realizing that Aelin had decided to walk instead of find another ride. But Aelin waved him off, instead telling him her favorite recipes and how much she’d learned just from being in the kitchen and being a part of prep. She went on and on about how she ended up becoming friends with Manon, and the weird group of friends that had formed in Rowan’s absence. She even told him about the terrible kiss with Chaol and how she’d decided to kiss someone tonight to make up for it. He laughed heartily at her description of her bad kiss, sighing loudly as he wiped the tears that had formed in the corners of his eyes away.

“You deserve a good kiss,” he said, rocking himself back and forth again, the movement starting to hypnotize Aelin as she watched.

“Well, Fenrys delivered,” Aelin said, wiggling her eyebrows.

“Gross,” he muttered.

“Rude!”

He laughed as she changed the topic, telling him about her tough classes, and he immediately picked up on it, following suit and talking about his own.

Talking to Rowan was like riding a bike. A really comfortable bike. He laughed in all the right spots, and by the time they were finished catching up on Aelin’s life, she felt like a weight had been lifted off her shoulders.

He offered to drive her home, and Aelin stupidly accepted, both of them singing happily as he played her Game Day Mix that she’d made for him all those months ago. As she looked over at him, she could feel her breath catch.

Gods, she missed him. She missed everything about him. And it hurt all over again.

She was like an addict who had easily relapsed. She couldn’t believe how careless she’d been. She thought she could have him just a tiny bit, but she was too stuck on him still. She’d taken a giant step forward with Chaol and Fenrys and then immediately retreated, letting Rowan back into her heart. Who was she kidding? He’d never left her heart. She’d just gotten better at ignoring that persistent tug, always pulling her to him.

As they turned onto Aelin’s street, they fell into a hushed silence. One that was so strangely comfortable that she almost forgot he was there until he spoke up again.

“I guess we’re done pretending,” he said, rubbing his hands against his knees as he parked in her driveway, and Aelin nodded.

“I just want us to still tell each other the big things, even if you don’t want to do the stuff in between.” He paused. “Like, if you decide to date Fenrys, can you tell me?”

“I’ll see what I can do about that,” she replied softly, and he nodded again. “I don’t hate you,” she said, feeling the need to reassure him.

“Okay,” he said, relieved.

“I promise if I ever hate you, you will not have to wonder,” she sassed, and she laughed as Rowan shoved her shoulder, sparks flying up her arm at the brief moment of contact.

Aelin exited the car with a small wave and took a deep, steadying breath as he drove off into the night. Yes, she had relapsed. But, she’d also kissed two boys in two nights. She clearly just needed to push herself a little further.

She fell asleep that night, wondering who the next boy on her list would be.

~*~

If you’d like to be added to my ToG taglist, message me – HERE! (replies get lost in notifications)

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#rowaelin #high school au #i don't want to wait au #charincharge writes #throne of glass fanfic #tog fanfic

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moonlitceleste · 4 years ago

Note

If your taking prompts, in the Big Sis Marinette AU, what if Marinette crashes Bruce's JL meeting and completely embarrasses him OR where all the Batfam got grounded and she's filling in for them at JL and nobody knows who she is

A/N: I’m sorry this took me so long! I’ve been absolutely swamped with work, and since I wanted to do research on each of the JL members I had trouble finding time to write this. Hopefully it was worth the wait!

Bruce sighed at the Batcomputer and pinched his brow. It hadn’t even reached the end of the week, yet all his kids were already benched. First it was Jason and Damian; the two had gotten into a fight over something trivial, and it escalated until Bruce had to pull them apart. Next was Tim, who had done nothing wrong but overwork himself. Despite being busy Bruce still paid attention to his kids, and yesterday this one looked on the verge of falling over. Then there was Dick and Duke, who were both out-of-country to investigate an international issue. Stephanie was out of the picture since he had promised her the day off, and Cass… well, Cass had done nothing wrong as per usual, but Bruce didn’t want to subject her to this.

He couldn’t not attend the meeting, but Batman was needed in Gotham. If only there was someone who could take my place...

As if on cue, the entrance of the Batcave opened.

Somewhere near in the manor, a door slammed open.

“Oh Bruuuuce,” a voice sing-songed.

The vigilante grimaced and pinched his brow once again. His headache was about to get a whole lot worse.

Marinette chewed on her gum amusedly as she sat in the Hall of Justice, legs kicked up onto the circular table. For a place that was supposed to be secure, it sure was easy getting in. All she had to do was teleport in using Kaalki—not that that was her only option, since she was already secretly registered as an official Justice League member; she just wanted to see whether or not their security measures would work. Despite being Ladybug, Marinette did enjoy a little chaos from time to time.

The batarang in her hand whizzed as it cut through the air; she was spinning it around her finger absentmindedly as she waited for the telltale sound of the transporters. She had done her research, of course, and managed to figure out the schedules of each League member in order to plan a dramatic entrance. Well, it wouldn’t be her dramatic entrance, but seeing their expressions would be fun nonetheless.

With the kwamis’ help, she had given them each a little nudge. Some members had trouble with mysterious issues that caused them to arrive a bit later than usual, while others found themselves miraculously early for once. Either way, Marinette had planned it so they’d all arrive at the same time—and her plans always worked.

Somewhere in the distance a faint whoosh sounded. Even without the enhanced hearing that came with the black cat Miraculous, the sound piqued her senses. The smile that was spread across the heroine’s face grew razor-sharp with anticipation. It’s showtime.

“...it was weird. My ring has never done that before, and with all the strange occurrences recently—”

Green Lantern broke off as Aquaman sent a jab to his side. He looked up, confused, before noticing the rest of the members had stopped in front of the Hall of Justice with defensive positions.

“Who are you?” the Flash growled.

The person sitting at the circular table was a woman in a sleek red-and-black suit. She was clad in armor, and there was what looked like a pair of wings on her back, clearly imitating those of a ladybug’s.

Rather than respond to his question, she raised a brow. Or at least, that’s what it looked like; it was hard to tell with the spotted mask on her face.

The members tensed, preparing to attack, when a heavy sigh came from Superman. He threw his arm up, preventing them from moving forwards.

“It’s alright, guys. I know her.”

The words, while reassuring, did nothing to make them drop their guard. They remained vigilant as the ladybug-themed woman slid her legs off the table and stood up. The movement was assured and grateful, and she had an aura that radiated power.

Despite this, however, she had a short stature that seemed even smaller in comparison to the League.

“Superman,” she nodded.

“Ladybug,” he greeted.

There was a sharp inhale from two of the members.

“Ladybug?” Wonder Woman repeated.

“And Grand Guardian, technically.”

At these words the Amazonian dropped to one knee, followed quickly by Aquaman. Their heads were bowed low in fealty. The rest of the members could only watch, shocked at the clear act of deference. No one dared breathe.

“Wonder Woman. Aquaman,” the masked woman addressed. A faint smile twitched at the corner of her lips.

“There’s no need to bow.”

Like a barrier had been broken, the two slowly raised themselves to meet her eyes. They looked at her with a mixture of awe and respect.

“Wha—” started the Flash. He broke off with a hiss as Superman elbowed his side.

“Ouch, dude!”

The Kryptonian only rolled his eyes and signalled to where Ladybug and Wonder Woman were still conversing.

“It is an honor to be in your presence, Guardian.”

“Nonsense. You’re Wonder Woman. If anything, I’m honored to be in your presence.”

At this point, it seemed as if Green Lantern was tired of the confusion.

“Okay, what’s this all about? Why’d you guys bow? And what’s a Guardian?”

Aquaman sighed internally at his ally’s brusqueness and looked towards Ladybug as if asking for permission to proceed. After receiving a nod, he spoke.

“The Order of the Guardians is an age-old society which protects and distributes Miraculouses, which are magical jewels not unlike your ring. However, the Miraculouses have existed since the beginning of the universe itself. They each have unique abilities, but the two most powerful are the Ladybug and Black Cat. When combined, the wielder has the potential to rewrite the universe as we know it. That’s why Guardians are important; they help prevent them from falling into the wrong hands. The Grand Guardian is even more so.”

“My mother, Hippolyta, was a Ladybug wielder,” Diana added. “The Order has always had deep connections with both the Atlantians and Amazons.”

Everyone seemed satisfied with this response except for Green Lantern, who spoke up with a frown.

“But then why have neither of you met her before today? It doesn’t make sense that Superman would know of her before you guys.”

Ladybug rolled her eyes good-naturedly and waited for the Kryptonian to reply; she knew they wouldn’t believe her unless the information came from someone else.

“She’s Batman’s sister.”

“Batman?”

The exclamation came from the Flash.

“But he’s so tall! How—”

Ladybug cut his words off with a chilling glare, as if daring him to finish his sentence. It was oddly familiar to the so-called Bat-Glare, yet it was somehow worse.

“Never mind. I see the resemblance now.”

She bared her teeth in a mock smile at him and gestured to the group to sit.

“Batman couldn’t be here today, so he sent me to fill in. You were having trouble with strange disappearances, were you not?”

Green Lantern cleared his throat.

“Yes, there was reportedly the disappearance of a few important artefacts. However, the culprit left no traces.”

“Done.”

Heads turned to her, bewildered.

“That was a Miraculous-related incident. Already solved.”

The League members exchanged glances then shrugged in acceptance.

“Meeting adjourned, then?” inquired the Flash.

“Not quite yet,” she smiled. “Don’t you want to hear more about my brother?”

“To offer it the show of violence;

For it is, as the air, invulnerable,

And our vain blows malicious mockery.”

“No, you’re saying it with the wrong tone now!”

Marinette sighed for the hundredth time that day. First it was the wrong inflection on a certain word, then it was the wrong pause length, and now it was her tone.

“Jason, it’s Hamlet. I know this means a lot to you, but I could care less about some dude and the tone with which he speaks about his tragic life.”

Her nephew put down his script and looked at her, eyes wide in disbelief and betrayal.

Oh, boy. She could practically hear how the next hour would play out with his inevitable rant. But before he could start, the door to the slammed open. Marinette sighed with relief; as much as she loved hearing Jason talk about his passion, she was glad to be spared from another one of his literature talks.

“Marinette,” a voice growled.

She looked up to see her brother’s frame in the doorway. He did not look happy.

“Yes?” she blinked innocently. She could practically see the steam coming out of his ears.

“What did you do?” Jason snickered from beside her.

“Embarrassed him in front of his friends,” she whispered back quietly.

He broke out into cackles.

“Not helping!” she hissed.

Bruce stormed closer, and wow did he look crabby. Better safe than sorry, then.

“Tikki, spots on!”

The flash momentarily blinded her brother, but she had made sure to cover Jason’s eyes to protect him from it.

When his vision cleared, Bruce spotted Ladybug hanging from one of the bookcases with her yo-yo, an impish grin on her face.

“Catch me if you can!”

PERMANENT TAGLIST @avengerthewarrior @enternalempires @freesportspalacesalad @nathleigh

#maribat #celestewrites #asks #cel's fics #requests

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1ddiscourseoftheday · 4 years ago

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🪐Tues 1 Dec ‘20🍌

Harry Styles Reacts to Banana Innuendo by Creating More Banana Innuendo

A little bit of Harry today but packing a big, uh, impact; there were pictures of the DWD set where one of the blurry blobs is distinctively Harold, and a much clearer fan pic of him driving a top down convertible in Palm Springs recently, personifying old Hollywood glamour looks even off the set, and! We see him in the Variety Hitmakers promo vid briefly, like very briefly, I literally blinked and missed it the first time, but the amount of information he gets across in those 4 or 5 frames! WOW. Okay so first of all he's wearing a necklace that is literally A DICK BANANA! It's a penis in a banana peel!! I mean we have always been knew that Harry was a big lover of... bananas... but he really just said no more subtext this time damn. It being Gucci is just the hilarious sprinkle on the sundae, they are really making the content Harry deserves huh? But let's not let that distract us from unpeeling the rest of this iconic look- his shirt says 'waiting for sunset', I see your sun reference there sir, and his sweater, an iconic cardigan first seen 3 years ago (it's the space boy sweater!!!), features daffodils, a heart pierced by an arrow (wait do those two things... go together or something...?), two birds, bugs and butterflies, and fish! Also it's beautiful. Someone make recreating these a tiktok trend please and tell me how to make one!

Comedian Nick Kroll, who is part of Don't Worry Darling, says Harry (er sorry I mean “ethereal demigod of love Harry Styles,” as per Vuture) was the first to know about his engagement, beating out even family by texting for up to the minute updates (“have you done it yet? What's going on?”). “He doesn’t know it yet,” Kroll says, “but he’s gonna be the guardian of all of our children.” Uh huh like that wasn't his play all along, he's even got this guy convinced it was his own idea! I assume Harry's plotting the tattoo space for their names even now, but hopefully he won't also be texting for constant updates on the babymaking process...

Who woke up with Liam today?? Well, if you missed that pleasure, he greeted us to say good morning and that it was “strange being the voice waking you up” but he hoped it wasn't too annoying and that we had a blessed day while Naughty List (#1 tik tok song third week in a row) played gently in the background. Thanks Liam! (Then Roman Kemp does what is I guess a Harry impression? Not his best tbh. Also no bananas or dicks, not convincing at all.) Liam also tells Roman that no, he's never done positive affirmations, what are those-- I was already looking forward to the advent for ME but now I'm excited for it for Liam too! No Liam, may YOU have a blessed day and learn all about saying nice things to yourself. The sleep story content isn't available yet, but lots of people went to sleep last night with Liam on their mind already even so; CelebTM, desperate to cling to their moment of notoriety and retain their directioner readers, published a ziam primer, and apparently their ploy is working cause suddenly everyone was talking about ziam. I mean okay but my dudes are you really letting CELEBTM guide your fandom? That just won't end well. But however suspect the source, ziam trended on twitter throughout the day yesterday, and then Gigi posted a pic of Zayn resting his face on her preggers belly from back in the summer, and then the fandom sort of split into the people trending Ziam harder and the people cooing at the pic for being cute so I guess if Gigi was trying to shush people as was the widespread theory, maybe it half worked? Or maybe it just made people about it talk more, hard to say. But! Either way it gave us an unseen of Zayn, so thats a win.

BBC1 will play Louis' christmas special from last year again this christmas day-- a whole hour of Louis playing great songs and chatting! (Remember how he played the same christmas song that Harry had called a family favorite when he covered it at Jingle Ball a couple weeks before? good times!) I guess you could be sad that it's a rerun, and yes who wouldn't want a new one, but also you could be happy cause it was super good and it's on again! Anyway judging by the influence celebtm is wielding, half of the fandom is new people right now anyway so I'm sure it will be new to many, so enjoy it friends. A registered but unreleased Louis song, One Track Mind, showed minor changes to a listing. Movement behind the scenes? Always, but if it moving closer to us, happy days!

Meanwhile on instagram Harris Reed said "I think the thing that's so beautiful about Harry is the fact that he does what he wants to do because he believes in it,” and “he immediately kind of understood I didn’t want to just make pretty clothes, I had a strong message for providing fluidity,” Louis liked posts from Liam Gallagher (about supporting crew) and Helene, Liam did what the grammys failed to- congratulated The Weeknd on his success (a whole year in the top 100), and Harry and Louis are up against each other-- no not like that, in a fan voted competition for 'Best Male'. A pretty big hat to fill but better one of them than most anyone else! If you have a strong preference (and boy do some of you) go cast your vote! Let the infighting begin, uh, continue.

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miracle-sham · 4 years ago

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Amidst the Howls of Death, Your Divinity Gives Me Breath.

| {Jasonette July 2021, Week 1, Day 2: Protection} |

| Marinette, Jason, Bruce, Dick, Tim, and Damian are all unfortunately familiar with how danger lurks around every corner in places like these. But perhaps their instincts can be ignored for just one evening of rest? |

| Or a Priestess, a Gunslinger, and his family, walk into a creepy inn. |

| Word Count: 2,789. |

| Warnings/Tags: Swearing/Explicit Language, Mild Gothic Horror, Implied/Referenced Background/Minor Character Death, Pretend Character Death, Fantasy & Magic Au, Romantic Fluff, Sharing a Room/Bed, Cuddling & Snuggling, Kissing. |

———

| A/N: Another fic with a playlist, so check it out if you're curious to the songs I listened to when writing this! And have look in the end notes if you want to read a short descrip of what inspired this piece! |

| If you want to be tagged in future oneshots/fics or a specific Au, then feel free to send me a dm and or ask! |

| Also side note, Don’t Like? Don’t Read. Also also, please do not criticise any of my writing. This was written for fun and receiving criticism, even in a compliment/criticism sandwich, is the exact opposite of fun. |

———

As soon as Marinette, Jason, and his family had entered the ramshackle hamlet, they all could tell without a doubt that there was something not quite... right about the place.

Even in the dying light of the day, it was obvious that every window and door were boarded up. A few even had stone or iron bars nailed or soldered across any and all potential points of entry—chimneys included. Some buildings were half-collapsed beneath the weight of their own rotting timbers, others looked unnaturally clean and newly constructed, most however were somewhere between the two extremes. But regardless of how new or decrepit the buildings appeared, each and every single one had at least some form of large scratching or claw marks gouged into the wood and stonework.

The first thing the Wayne family and Marinette had all agreed upon, was acquiring rooms for the night from the only inn in the hamlet. One of the nicer buildings albeit, but just as foreboding in its own sense due to the deeper and more extensive scratch and claw marks along the exterior.

Inside, the innkeeper was undoubtedly strange, eyeing them each with an odd look in his eyes, and an empty grin. Giving him an off-putting appearance that certainly wasn't helped by his slow and methodical cleaning of kitchen knives, from just behind the bar.

Wheezing, the innkeeper tilted his head to one side, staring the family of six down. Voice like gravel, he rasped. “Tread carefully 'round these parts, travellers. There's been tales of your kind vanishing in the dark, followed by the howls.”

“Our kind? What do you mean by our kind?” Dick questioned sharply, narrowing his eyes and subtly curling his hands into fists by his sides—hidden by his deep blue cloak.

“The howls? What howls?” Tim asked curiously, a few seconds after Dick, eyes twinkling with the thrill of a mystery to unravel.

The innkeeper chuckled. “Curious lot, aren't you. I'm afraid that won't do you any good 'ere.”

“Is that a threat?” Bruce rumbled, adjusting his pose ever so slightly to put himself between his four sons plus pseudo-daughter in law, and the innkeeper. So that should anything happen, he would be first in the line of fire instead.

“Not if you pay for rooms tonight, stay quiet, and watch yourselves from straying in the dark.” The innkeeper replied, still grinning emptily as his chuckled subsided.

Tim ducked around Bruce's side to stare at the innkeeper. “You didn't answer our other questions! What do you mean by our kind and why did the previous travellers disappear followed by howls! How did you know that the howls follow disappearances?”

The innkeeper pulled out a whetstone and began sharpening the knives without looking, as his gaze snapped to Tim. “I only answer questions from paying customers, boy.”

“Father! I do not wish to stay somewhere as suspicious as this contemptible establishment.” Damian hissed, keeping his voice low as to avoid the hearing of the innkeeper, and tugged on the edge of Bruce's black cloak.

Jason edged a hand towards the hilt of one of his flintlocks. He leaned closer to Marinette to whisper in her ear. “For once, sweet priestess, I'm with the demon spawn, I don't want to stay here any longer than strictly necessary. This wretched fucking place reeks of ancient necrotic magic.” He wrinkled his nose before adding, “and not your goddess' other half's kind of ancient necrotic magic.”

Marinette frowned, glancing around the inn with ill ease. “I can feel what you mean, my dear knight. Whatever is causing the necrotic magic is definitely not holy by any means. But as far as I can tell, the magic was stronger outside, it's almost muted somewhat in here.”

“Forgive me, sweet priestess, but that doesn't ease my nerves at all.” Jason scoffed.

She rolled her eyes with a quiet snort of laughter, “I wasn't trying to, my dear red hooded knight.” She steeled herself slightly, mirth fading, “though what I am suggesting, is that we purchase rooms for the night. Whatever the source of the magic, we're most likely safer in here than out there. There are no claw marks on the inside after all.”

“For the record, I hate when you're right about these things, my holiness.” He growled, glancing around to confirm her statement.

“You say that as if I hate it any less than you.” Marinette countered, “now let's go intervene before another impending scuffle gets us kicked out of what is possibly our only safe shelter for the eve.”

“And miss out on free entertainment? I cannot believe you.” Jason snickered.

She shoved him good-naturedly before striding past Bruce and up to the counter, imposing in her own right even in comparison to the rest of the family. She cleared her throat to draw attention to herself and stared down the innkeeper with all the sharpness of a storming sea upon rocks. “You will answer all our questions if we purchase rooms, correct?”

The innkeeper squinted at Marinette. “Aye, girl.”

She pursed her lips then nodded. “How much for lodgings then?”

“We've got a room with a double bed, three with a single, and two twin rooms.” The innkeeper responded, empty grin curling into something more twisted, “The singles are a gold each per night, the rest are two gold each per night.”

“That pricing is outrageous!” Damian scowled.

Narrowing her eyes, she ignored Damian and hummed. “I see,” she glanced back at Jason and raised an eyebrow.

He nodded in return.

“Then I will purchase the room with the double bed.” She stated, plucking two gold coins from her purse and placing them upon the bar counter.

The innkeeper nodded, sliding two keys over to her. “Excellent choice, my lady, your room is on the left at the very end of the corridor upstairs.”

Jason prickled at the addressing title given to her, gripping the hilt of the gun he had reached for with whitening knuckles.

Marinette picked up the keys and stared coolly at the innkeeper before taking a few deliberate steps back until she was once more beside Jason. There, she handed him one of the keys.

Silence permeated the room for a minute as the rest of the family communicated through glances and facial movements alone.

Bruce sighed, breaking the stalemate, and placed four gold coins on the counter as well. “We'll take two singles and a twin as well.”

The innkeeper chuckled, passing four more keys over. “Wise decisions, Traveller. The twin room is the last door on the right along the corridor upstairs, and the two singles are the first two doors on both sides.”

“Now answer our questions,” Dick demanded.

The innkeeper glowered at Dick. “What I meant by your kind, was that you're the kind of folk who trouble follows. The travellers that poke their noses where they don't belong. And as for the howls, I wouldn't know. I've never seen what makes it because I stay inside where it is safe. Those who don't stay inside... well their screams, remaining bloody streaks, and disappearances are evidence enough for me.”

Marinette grimaced. “I am going to retire to the room now.”

Jason startled at her words and stared at her concern. “I'll, uh, join you. If you don't mind.”

“You don't have to for my sake.” She responded.

“It would ease my conscience if you weren't to go up alone.” He grit out.

She bowed her head for a second, “then your company would be most appreciated.” She began to make her way towards the stairs up to the rooms.

Before she reached the first step, the innkeeper called out. “My apologies, my holy lady, I did not intend to discuss such gruesome conversations before you that would offend your delicate holy constitution.”

“I appreciate your concern, however, I think you will find it was not my delicate holy constitution that was offended, as much as it was the wish for some privacy after a long and tedious journey. Thank you very much.” She spat in response, voice as acetic as an alchemist's corrosive acid.

The innkeeper raised his hands in a placating manner. “My sincerest apologies then, my lady.”

Marinette took that as a cue to continue upstairs, with Jason on her heels.

Once they reached the door, Jason snarled. “How dare that fucking bastard call you his lady, I'm going to put a bullet through his fucking skull.”

She sighed and went up onto her tiptoes so that she could place a kiss on his lips. “Perhaps wait until after we sort out the cause of the ancient necrotic magic plaguing this place. Though I'd like to rip his tongue out his mouth before you get to have your fun.”

Jason unwound marginally beneath the kiss, his fury was still palpable, however. “Hmm, I would like to watch you do that, my love.”

“Of course you would. Now, let's enjoy some much-needed privacy together. As much as I adore your family, there is only so much time spent travelling I can spend with them without wanting some peace and quiet to cherish you, my knight.” She remarked, opening the door with the key in the meantime.

———

Lounging upon the double bed, Marinette hummed as she gently carded her fingers through Jason's hair—his head resting on her lap and a soft smile gracing his face as he gazed up at her.

She paused her humming, face creases in mild displeasure, as a loose lock of her hair fell across her face. After a few half-hearted attempts to blow it out of the way, she closed her eyes and sighed—fingers twitching to a stop.

Jason raised an eyebrow and reached a hand up to her face, cupping her cheek for a few moments before tucking the loose lock of her hair back behind her ear. “Something on your mind, sweet priestess?”

“Ah. No, not really, no. I was just…” She sighs, lips twisting with faint distress, her earlier mask of determination faltering in the privacy of their room. “I'm worried about you. About this place. It's not safe and I'm worried if we fight anything here, whether it be the cause of the howls, a godforsaken Akuma, or even those creepy fanatics again, you're not going to make it—survive another close call.” She inhaled sharply. “I dread to think that should it come to it, the resurrection rituals won't work for you any longer.” Tears springing to her eyes as she voiced her doubts.

Jason frowned, “Oh,” He fumbled for words, shifting himself up into a sitting position so he could properly cup both sides of her face, and pull her into a gentle kiss on the lips. Pulling back, he took a deep breath, “oh, my holiness. Oh, my love. As long as I've been by your side, you've never let me fall, and your goddess and her pantheon don't seem like they'll let me die anytime before you. Not after the deal we struck, and I promise you, my priestess, that I don't intend on ever breaking that deal.”

“I know my knight, I know.” Marinette mumbled, tugging Jason into a tight hug as soon as he pulled away from the kiss, “but will there be a choice? Have you not forgotten your revival sickness we've yet to find or create a cure for? And not to mention the rumours about what has happened to the others who were also brought back by that awful Lich!”

Grimacing, he idly rubbed the back of his neck. “How could I fucking forget, I've hurt everyone I care about, especially you, thanks to that…”

She hummed once more. “And yet, none of us blame you for that, my love.”

“You should.” He argued weakly.

“I will never!” She retorted.

Their conversation lulled as they relished in the other's embrace.

Minutes passed before Marinette pulled away from the hug. She huffed, fingers twitching and nose scrunching up. “Jason, my red hooded knight, and love of my life.”

Jason squinted at her, “Yes…?”

“Wou— Can— What if I—.” She frowned, searching for her words, before settling on words she knew by ritual. “It would ease my mind if you were to be bestowed with some form of protection magic. Would you accept such a blessing from me?”

He remained silent for a few moments. “Of course I would, sweet priestess. I trust you, and I trust your goddess and her pantheon.” He closed his eyes and glanced away. “But shouldn't you save that magic for yourself, or when we're out in the fucking fray.”

“My powers will replenish come dawn, and the protection will last until then. I'd rather be certain in knowing you'll be safe whilst we sleep here.” Marinette answered, leaning forwards to cup his face in her hands.

Jason opened his eyes and looked back over at Marinette. “Alright,” he reluctantly conceded, “but only if it can also be applied to you.”

She stared at him then rolled her eyes, the corners of her lips twitching upwards in amusement. “I shouldn't have expected any answer but that from you. Luckily I've still got enough divine power to cast those two protection wards on the both of us.”

“Good!” He grinned cheekily.

Rolling her shoulders, Marinette mentally went over the incantations that would be used in this specific warding. She locked eyes with Jason and tilted her head to the side, “you first my knight.”

Squinting at her suspiciously for a few seconds, he eventually relented and shrugged. “As long as you've got enough divinity to protect yourself after, my holiness.”

“I will, trust me.” She responded, closing her eyes for a brief second before muttering the ancient celestial words of the language of the guardians. Her eyes filled with holy light, glowing like two sparkling suns. Whilst her hair began to shimmer and float as though underwater in sun-dappled waves. Swiftly she made an elegant hand gesture as continued to murmur the incantations. The shimmer in her hair and glow of her eyes flared for a split second as her words and hand gestures crescendoed, before flickering out like a snuffed candle.

As the golden radiance faded from Marinette, a similar golden glow began to settle around Jason. That too faded but a split second after appearing.

“Your powers never cease to amaze me, my holiness,” Jason murmured, staring at where the soft golden glow had radiated around him. Carefully he moved to hold her hands in his own so that he could press gentle kisses to them.

She giggled, blushing profusely. Although a smirk formed on her lips at his words. “Oh? Then where was this adoration of yours, my knight, when I magically mended those noble finery clothes of yours that were so unfortunately ripped just the night before we were to attend a masquerade, hmm?”

“Hey! Fucking–! Argh!” Jason sputtered for a second and then twisted around to grab a pillow from the bed, throwing it at Marinette. “Just cast the fucking protection ward on yourself!”

Marinette cackled as she fell back against the bedding from the impact of the pillow. She dramatically threw an arm over her face and cried out in mock distress, “oh no, oh dear! It would seem I have been most verily betrayed by mine own knight who was sworn to protect me, and yet! Here I lay, bloodied and betrayed! The world is fading from my grasp, I see the light of my goddess and her pantheon beckoning! Oh, whatever shall I do?”

“It would seem my last assassination attempt failed, sweetest priestess. Fear not! I shan't fail you again.” He declared equally as theatrically, grabbing the other pillow and throwing it at her as well.

“Ah! I have perished. What a shame, I am unable to cast that protection ward on myself now. Oh no!” Marinette continued, flopping onto her side and sticking out her tongue in mock death.

Jason snorted, “My assassination may have succeeded, but I cannot live with myself in this world without my love any longer. With this knife,” He stole back one of the pillows, “I shall perish besides the light of my life! Bleh.”

He flopped against the bedding beside her, a few seconds passed before the two of them burst into more laughter.

A few more moments passed before he elbowed her lightly. “Come on, your turn!”

Marinette wheezed and waved a hand, muttering the incantations between breaths. The radiance glowed around her, eyes and hair glimmering as they did before. Then as she reached the end of the incantations once more, it all faded away again. “Happy?”

“Indubitably, my love.” He responded.

She pressed a quick kiss to his lips. “Good!”

———

| Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed this little fic! Comments, likes, and reblogs are much appreciated! |

| Fun fact: this was supposed to be longer but I wasn't happy with how the last part was going and so I cut it. So if people enjoy this one, well I'll just have to finish the follow-up piece to this fic, won't I. Ironically the part that was cut got more into the gothic horror and the main reason behind the title but I decided to focus on the romantic fluff as the end point instead. Flowed a little bit better. |

| This piece was inspired by a d&d campaign i joined for a few sessions. It was set in a creepy little hamlet with an incredibly creepy innkeeper who forced our party into signing a contract before we could spend outrageous amounts on gold just for a single night's stay. And uh turned out the dude was a demon we just sold our souls to, and then all but one of the party ended up leaving the inn to try our chances against the horrifying plague-like monsters outside, aka the whole reason we brought rooms in the first place! |

| Also feel free to send me any asks or comments with any questions you have regarding this fic, I’ll be more than happy to answer! |

| @jasonette-july-event |

#Maribat #MLB x DC #DC x MLB #Jasonette #Jasonette July #Jasonette July 2021 #JasMari #MariJay #Marinette x Jason #Jason x Marinette #Jasonette July Week 1 #Jasonette July Day 2 #Jasonette July Protection #Amidst the Howls of Death Your Divinity Gives Me Breath #AtHoDYDGMB #Sham's Posts #Sham's Writing #Sham's Fics

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bi-bard · 4 years ago

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First Impressions- Spencer Reid Imagine (Criminal Minds)

Title: First Impressions

Pairing: Spencer Reid X Reader

Requested: Nope! PLEASE SEND IN REQUESTS!

Musical Prompt: First Impressions from First Date

Word Count: 927 words

Warning(s): Awkwardness, so much fluff

Summary: (takes place in the earlier seasons but I don’t have a place to pinpoint it) Garcia has always thought that she’d be great at playing matchmaker. However; she may have been a little bit crazy when she cooked this combination up... or maybe she saw something that the average person couldn’t.

Author’s Note: I write for Spencer a lot... but he’s not the only character that I write for... you can find a list linked at the bottom of the imagine.

-------------------------------------------------

I sighed as I walked into the restaurant. I was a little overdressed but Penelope never really told me what a good look for this place would’ve been. I just went with whatever outfit I thought looked good. I didn’t even know who I was looking for. What do I do about this?

“Excuse me,” I asked a hostess while she wasn’t super busy. “I’m meeting someone. The reservation was under Reid, I think.”

“Oh, yes, follow me,” she nodded to the side.

I smiled and followed her. There was a booth against the wall where a man was sitting by himself. Menus in the middle, two glasses of water. It looked like he didn’t move until I had shown up.

Also... Garcia set me up with someone who looked like a teacher’s assistant. I was told FBI agent. Granted, Garcia worked for the FBI and she looked nothing like her job title described.

“Thanks,” I said softly as I sat down. “Spencer?”

“(Y/n),” he asked back. I nodded. He gave me an awkward grin. “Nice to meet you.”

“You too,” I replied. “So... you and Penelope work together?”

“Yeah,” he nodded. “I work in the field.”

“Nice,” I grabbed a menu, looking over the dishes.

We avoided conversation while we picked out what to order. We ordered quickly, each quietly thanking the waiter. I bit my lip.

“How did you meet Garcia,” Spencer asked suddenly, catching me slightly off-guard after we had not talked for a while.

“We went to school together,” I said. “We spent a lot of time together and managed to keep in touch. She’s played match-maker with me a few times now... didn’t usually end up going well.”

“Why?”

“They think with their dicks,” I replied bluntly. His eyes went wide. “She promised that you weren’t the same. She called you a genius.”

“Oh,” he nodded. Spencer was blushing now.

“Is she right,” I asked. He blinked at me a few times. “Are you a genius?”

“Based on evidence,” he replied. I raised an eyebrow at him. “Well... I-I have an IQ of 187, I can read 20,000 words per minute, and I have an eidetic memory.”

“20,000,” I asked. He nodded. “Impossible.”

“I can!”

“I’m so testing you later,” I said through a laugh. There was a moment of silence.

“What else did she say?”

“Well,” I stopped for a moment as the waitress put two plates down. “She started with awkward... a little nerdy... sometimes you ramble. Then, she said you were sweet and kind. She was certain that we’d get along.”

“Well, that’s very nice of her,” Spencer mumbled.

“What did she say about me?”

“What?”

“What did Penelope tell you about me that made you agree to this,” I motioned in between the two of us.

“Well, she said that you were nice and confident,” Spencer said. “Also intelligent, funny, and...”

“Your eidetic memory slipping,” I asked, a small smirk.

“No,” he shook his head. “She... she said that you were ‘Smokin’‘.”

Spencer put air quotes around “smokin’”. I laughed in shock, placing my hand over my mouth. He moved to take a sip of his drink.

“Do you agree with her,” I asked.

“I-I...”

“Is that a no?”

“No! I mean, it’s not a no,” he rambled. “I wouldn’t say that word, I would use something different.”

“Really? What word would you use?”

“Well,” Spencer chuckled nervously. “I... I think I’d say lovely, pretty, cute, beautiful... all of the above.”

“That’s very sweet,” I replied, just starting to blush a little bit. “I have to say that you’re pretty handsome yourself.”

“Oh... thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” I said.

We continued talking and eating. It was strange to feel so listened to. It was strange to see someone so nervous. He rambled a lot. Random facts and strange stories. Spencer was interesting and kind.

After dinner, Spencer walked with me to my car, commenting on how he lived nearby and could make it home on his own. I stopped by the driver’s side door and turned to face him.

“So,” Spencer trailed off for a second to clear his throat, “can we do this again?”

That made me pause. After such a long line of failures, did I want to walk into this game again? I bit the inside of my cheek, looking down. He was different. He was different from every other guy I had met... every other guy I had tried to date. I had a great time tonight.

“You don’t have to say ye-”

“Sure,” I cut him off. Spencer’s eyes went wide. “There’s a new movie coming out next Friday that I really want to see. Want to join me?”

“That sounds great,” he smiled... and it wasn’t a nervous smile this time.

“Okay,” I nodded.

Spencer nodded back at me. After a moment of silencer, Spencer leaned down and kissed my cheek. I felt my face heat up as he moved back.

“I’ll talk to you later,” I said.

“Yeah,” he replied. “Good night.”

“Good night.”

Spencer started walking off, waving at me as he went. I waved back before going to get in my car. I sat there for a minute before putting my hands over my face, my smile becoming ridiculously wide. I jumped when my phone went off.

From Penelope: How did it go?!

I chuckled before sending a quick response.

To Penelope: Maybe you’re an okay matchmaker

From Penelope: I expect details tomorrow.

To Penelope: Maybe ;)

I chuckled again before starting my car and starting my drive home.

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#spencer reid imagine #spencer reid fanfiction #criminal minds imagine #criminal minds fanfiction #imagine #fanfiction

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cherienymphe · 5 years ago

Text

Call Me Ransom (Ransom Drysdale x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON CON! IF THIS OFFENDS YOU PLEASE DNI! YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!

Summary: Ransom has always been nice to you. You never thought to question it until it was too late.

There were very few instances in your life where you regretted any of your choices. There was the time your aunt told you to stop messing with that small hole in the ground when you were 7. Not only did you regret disobeying her for your sake, but for your cousin’s too as the both of you were chased by bees. Once, in middle school, your best friend had told you not to go out with the most popular boy in your grade. You found out why when you realized he’d only asked you out on a dare.

When every member of the Thrombey family told you how horrible Ransom Drysdale was, you didn’t listen.

It wasn’t that you didn’t believe them, per say. Sure, you’d seen how horribly he treated his relatives. How nasty he was to Fran, and sometimes Marta too. You’d seen it with your own eyes, and while it definitely bothered you, you couldn’t help but feel that he couldn’t be all bad. After all, he was so nice to you. He had been from the very first moment you’d been hired.

Fran was friends with your mother, and when freshman year of college came around, and you were in desperate need of a job, Fran was the one to put in a good word for you with Harlan Thrombey himself. He was an old eccentric man, full of so much life at his age. You’d seen how he behaved with Marta and often found yourself hoping you never lost your spirit either when you got that old.

Your first encounter with Ransom wasn’t the best as far as first impressions went. It was during winter break of the first year you’d gotten hired. You’d only been working there for a few months but had still yet to see the infamous “shit stain” as Meg liked to call him. You were helping Fran, in the process of going from room to room, changing the sheets. You weren’t aware that he was home, and so when you opened the door of one of the guest bedrooms, you were met with the half-naked sight of him. He was in the process of changing clothes, and the sight startled you, causing you to drop the sheets you were carrying before hurrying out of the room, a thousand apologies slipping out.

When he found you, you were downstairs, wiping down a window, trying to erase the memory of his bare chest and thick thighs from your mind. You felt him rather than heard him and turned to face him with a fright. He was so close, and you stumbled back as he ran his blue eyes over you with an unreadable expression. You had swallowed, glancing down at the sheets in his hand before hesitantly taking them as he handed them to you.

“Hugh, I’m… I’m so sorry. I didn’t know that you were here, and if I’d had any idea I would have knocked.”

You were quick to stutter out an apology. After all, you’d heard the worst things of him for months, and you were genuinely afraid of losing your job because you walked in on Hugh Ransom Thrombey while he was changing clothes. He was an asshole, everyone had told you, and you believed it. He made “the help” call him Hugh for Christ’s sake.

He didn’t respond at first, simply opting for looking down his nose at you. You took another step back, heart racing as he eyed you. You felt like you were going to be sick as you waited for him to say something, anything. You were expecting the worse to come from him. An insult, a slur, a threat of losing your job, but he said none of those things. He simply said:

“Call me Ransom.”

He had brushed past you before you had time to respond to that, leaving you to blink in confusion.

It was the beginning of an odd and unexpected friendship…if you could call it that. The two of you weren’t attached at the hip or anything every time he came to the mansion, but sometimes he talked to you. Sometimes before leaving the house, he’d asked what you thought of what he was wearing. If he saw you struggling to lift something, he’d come by and help without saying a word. He’d snap at Jacob or, hell, even Linda if they were rude to you over something that was, 9 times out of 10, out of your control.

You’d always throw him a small appreciative smile, tentatively at first as you were still wary of him.

“Thank you, Hugh,” you’d say.

His reply would always be the same.

“Call me Ransom.”

It became sort of an inside joke between the two of you. You’d continue to call him Hugh, because you just didn’t feel right calling him Ransom. Not only was he technically your employer, but he still required Fran and Marta and anyone else who worked for the family to call him Hugh. It didn’t seem fair, but he would smirk every time, that strange look in his eyes as he told you to call him Ransom.

He treated you differently, and it didn’t go unnoticed.

“Are you fucking Ransom?” Meg asked you one day.

You’d blanched, eyes going wide as you paused in the middle of your dusting. She pressed the juul to her lips, briefly turning away to exhale as she waited for you to answer.

“No,” you gasped, blinking at her in confusion. “Why…why would you ask me that?”

Meg rolled her eyes before falling back into the chair.

“…because he treats you like a human being, and Ransom doesn’t treat anyone even remotely decent unless he’s fucking them…or trying to,” she explained, eyeing you.

“No,” you reiterated, frantically shaking your head.

She threw her hands up in defense.

“Hey, I just wanted to ask what no one else had the balls to,” she said, and you paused again.

You blinked, lowering your arm as you stared at her in horror.

“What does that mean?” you whispered. “D-do they think…? Does everyone think that?”

She pulled another drag before nodding.

“Yeah,” she said, exhaling with a shrug. “I mean, it’s no big deal. It wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Well, maybe he has no interest in doing that with the employees here anymore,” you murmured, turning back around.

You heard her scoff.

“Yeah, right. Ransom passing on the opportunity to stick his dick in anything that moves? I don’t think so…”

“Well, he has,” you defended. “He had the chance. Plenty of them, in fact.”

You didn’t know why you were so defensive. Maybe it was because you felt like he was your friend. You believed the stories about him, you did. You saw with your own eyes how he talked to Jacob and Walt, sometimes. For some reason though, he didn’t treat you that way. Was Meg right?

“Look, (Y/N). I know he’s nice to you,” she started, sounding closer. “…but listen to me when I say he’s just biding his time. After all, that first chance he did have, you, how did you put it, ran away like a scared chicken? He’s just being smart about it this time around.”

She placed her hand on your shoulder with a sad smile as you turned to look at her.

“You’re so nice. Nicer than he deserves, and I really just wish he’d quit playing games with you. Nothing good ever comes out of it.”

You contemplated her words as she walked away, suddenly feeling foolish. Was Ransom really just playing nice, earning your trust just to strike?

A year and a half later you still thought about that conversation from time to time. Mostly on how wrong Meg had been. Ransom had never been anything but nice to you, and even you couldn’t believe he’d be that motivated to “play games” with you for the better part of two years. His odd behavior towards you still threw you for a loop, sometimes. Especially considering how cold and callous he was towards everyone else, but you’d just accepted that for whatever reason, he treated you differently.

Maybe he took pity on how skittish you were. That definitely seemed like a more plausible reason. Ransom probably thought you were a pitiful mess, not worth toying with. That was more than fine with you. On the off chance he brought a guest to the home, you saw how he treated them the morning after. How distant and malicious he was as he, sometimes quite literally, shoved them out of the door. He’d been so nice to you. You didn’t think you could handle it if he treated you that way.

You stepped into the house early that morning, prepared to begin your shift. However, you’d barely been in the mansion for five minutes when Ransom found you.

“(Y/N), there’s a broken vase upstairs that needs to be dealt with,” he said, and the way he rushed it out told you all you needed to know.

“What did you do this time?” you asked with a sigh as you straightened.

He smirked, a small chuckle escaping his lips as you followed him out of the living room and into the hallway.

“I had too much to drink last night. Decided to come by here and sleep it off. I didn’t realize I’d broken the damn thing until I woke up this morning. I’m hoping I can replace it before Harlan notices. Either that, or I’ll just tell him Fran swiped it.”

You frowned at him as you followed him up the stairs.

“Hugh,” you reprimanded.

He smirked, glancing at you.

“I’ve told you a thousand times to call me Ransom,” he said, stopping at one of the guest rooms. “It’s in here.”

You pushed the door open, walking inside to assess how big of a mess it was. You scanned the room, a frown making its way onto your face as you noted that not one thing was out of place.

“Hugh is this the right…,” you trailed off as you turned and watched him shut the door behind him. “…room?”

He chuckled, reaching behind him to lock the door, head tilting as he studied you.

“What are you doing?” you quietly asked, a feeling of dread settling in your stomach.

“I wanted to talk to you…alone,” he added as he walked towards you.

You started to take a step back before deciding against it, eyes flickering between the locked door and him.

“…okay,” you responded in an unsure tone.

However, he didn’t say anything as he approached you. Your eyes were wide, lips parting in shock when he reached out to pull you closer, leaning his head down as he tilted yours up. Your eyes remained open when his lips softly met yours, a million thoughts running through your head when he kissed you. His lips were soft, the softest you’d ever felt, and you almost let yourself enjoy it.

Almost.

You stumbled back in shock, reaching up to brush your fingers along your lips as he heaved a sigh. He sounded annoyed.

“Hugh…we can’t. I work for your grandfather and, by extension, you. I-I can’t do that,” you protested.

The corner of his lips quirked upwards just the tiniest bit. If you didn’t know any better, you’d say it was a smile.

“No one is going to care. Thanks to me, they already think we’re having sex every time I come around, anyway.”

Your heart skipped a beat, a small gasp escaping you as you processed what he said.

“…what? Is that why you’ve been so kind to me? So your family would think we’re sleeping together…just to make it easier for us to actually sleep together?” you quietly asked.

“You seemed like the kind of girl who wouldn’t jump right into things. I had to soften you up somehow…”

You blinked at him, throat tightening as your eyes began to burn. His eyebrows furrowed, smirk growing as he took in your reaction.

“Did you think I was being nice to you out of the kindness of my heart?”

The way he asked that was so condescending, and it made you feel stupid. You looked away, and you heard him scoff in disbelief.

“You did,” he said, more so to himself.

You took a deep shaky breath, licking your lips as you fought not to cry. There was the most awful pain in your chest. You thought he was your friend…

“Look, Hugh…,” you started, looking at him.

His nostrils flared.

“Call me Ransom-.”

“I take my job very seriously, Hugh. Okay? Fran stuck her neck out to get me this job, and I’m not going to screw it up by…by screwing you.”

He straightened, pushing his shoulders back as he looked down his nose at you.

“I’m sorry if I led you on or made you believe something that wasn’t true. I genuinely thought you were my friend. I realize, now how foolish that was, and I’m sorry,” you whispered, walking past him.

His hand covered yours when you went to open the door, and you looked up at him. He was so close, chiseled features hardened as he hummed at you.

“Your job is to take care of the house. To keep my family happy and make our stay here as pleasant as possible whenever we come around. You’re not keeping me happy, (Y/N), and I’ll be forced to tell my grandfather that you just aren’t taking your job very seriously…”

Your eyes widened as you caught onto what he was insinuating. You stared at him like that for a painful amount of time as your heart broke for a second time that day. You swallowed, allowing the tears to finally spill over.

“You…you would do that…to me? Because I won’t sleep with you?” you spat.

“It just seems to me that you don’t care about your job. I don’t think Harlan would want anyone around who doesn’t put their best effort into their work,” was his response.

You took a deep breath, lips trembling as you glared at him.

“You can tell him whatever you like. There are other jobs. I’m not going to fuck you just so I can keep this one,” you threw at him, snatching your hand away.

Neither one of you said a word as you glared at each other. His jaw clenched, and you could tell that that wasn’t what he had been expecting. Without another word, you turned back to the door, barely opening it when he slammed his hand against it, shutting it. You looked up at him with a glower.

“Hugh-.”

Your words were cut off as he wrapped his hand around your throat, slamming you against it. You gasped, fighting to get his hand off of you when you realized that his other was unbuttoning your jeans. You reach down to stop him, but it was already too late. His fingers were suddenly at your core, grazing along your sensitive flesh as you tried to twist away from him.

Your fight only fueled him, gasping when he pushed one finger inside of you, followed by another. One of your hands clenched around his wrist, trying to get him to stop while the other tried to get him to loosen his group around your neck. He bent his head, kissing along your collarbone as he stroked your walls that were slowly, but surely, becoming slick.

Tears sprung to your eyes all over again once you realized that he was tightening his grip. It was getting hard for you to breathe, and the soft pants that were leaving your lips were growing fainter and fainter. He was pulling you, forcing you towards the bed as his fingers continued to stroke that fire inside of you. When he pushed you back onto it, your vision was spinning, colors blending together, darkness kissing the edges of your sight.

When he finally let go, you were gasping for breath, struggling to sit up as your body tried to right itself. When everything finally stood still, you realized that your pants and underwear were already to your ankles, and with one final tug, Ransom had them across the room. You sat up in a panic only for him to push you back down, shushing you as soft sobs began to leave you.

“Ransom, please,” you begged him, calling him by his middle name for the first time in your life.

He paused, running his crystal gaze over your half naked form, hands sliding up your stomach to push your shirt up, exposing your breasts.

“Say it again,” he quietly ordered.

You saw the glint in his eye, and frantically shook your head.

“No, stop-!”

You cut yourself off in a panic, hands pushing against him as he undid his pants just enough for his cock to spring forward. It was angry and red and leaking with precum as he lowered himself onto you completely.

“Ransom! Ransom, stop!”

It was like you were screaming at the air. He brought one hand up to cover your mouth while the other guided himself inside of you. A guttural groan left his lips as you squeezed him, a hiss escaping between his teeth when his hips met yours. You gasped into his hand, chest heaving as your body fought to get used to the feel of him.

Sooner than you would have liked, he was pulling back only to shove himself inside of you again. His thrusts were slow, but forceful, moving the mattress with the movement. Soft pants were leaving his lips as he hovered over you, working his hips against yours. He slowly slid his hand off of your mouth, brushing his fingers along your jaw as you squeezed your eyes shut.

“Say my name,” he breathed.

You frantically shook your head, fighting the pleasure that was beginning to bubble inside of you.

“No,” you refused, gasping when he increased his pace.

He reached down, pushing his arms under your thighs as he pushed your legs back towards you. An unidentifiable noise left you at the feel of this new angle. He was hitting a spot inside of you that hurt so good, and you dug your nails into his back.

“R-Ransom,” you begged.

Although, now you weren’t sure what you were begging for.

“Again,” he demanded, and you obliged.

Again, again, again. You came around him, milking him, with his name on your lips, begging him to stop. He didn’t. When you clenched around his cock for the third time, duties long unattended to, his hand was on your throat again, telling you to call him Ransom as he coated your insides with a groan.

Tags: @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @sebabestianstan101

#ransom thrombey #ransom thrombey x reader #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale x reader #hugh ransom drysdale #knives out #chris evans #dark fic

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internalsealpanic · 4 years ago

Text

I Will be Your Tim Drake for Tonight (1) (Jason Todd/ Reader)

Summary: Preferring to do anything but your physics project, you decide to accepts Tim’s proposal. It’s simple. He does your project, you try to figure out whether Jason Sionis is criminal. Easy, right?

masterlist

A/n: This takes place in a world where Jason is adopted by Black Mask. Inspired by Building Interest by Zoeleo.

The events and characterization in this story are very heavily based on Zoeleo's Long Term Investment series. It is fantastic and I really highly recommend all of her fics.

a/n: For clarification, Reader does have psychic powers but it only lets her sense people's emotions physically. No mind-reading. Her power is more like an overactive sense of empathy which may force her to dissociate into someone else.

There will be violence and mentions of alcoholism (used as coping mechanism for physical pain) and chronic pain.

As for the additional warning, an animal is harmed but it is barely described. I could not bring myself to actual describe it but the aftermath is described.

I also just converted this from an OC so I apologize for any grammatical mistakes.

Without further a do:

Your skin itches as you make your way through the crowd. It wasn't the suit. After all, Alfred Pennyworth was incapable of doing wrong. It was the sea of hands patting your back, petting your head, and pinching your cheeks made every inch of skin want to slough off. Tim owed you. He owed you big time. Then again he's back at the manor tackling your physics project and making sure Gotham doesn't set itself on fire while Batman is on ‘vacation’.

You should be fine. It’s not like Brucie asked you to investigate a suspected criminal who also happens to be Roman Sionis’ heir. Nope, no pressure there. Thanks Bruce. You’re clad in blue contacts, a black wig, makeup, and a stolen suit. As safe as you felt in someone else's skin, you still felt like you were gonna fall over. Maybe it's because you were dumb enough not to bring your cane.

The room was dizzyingly full of people. Your mind goes haywire. Jumping from one mind to the next. Dipping into every emotion it could stick itself into. It was almost overwhelming enough for you to forget about the ache in your leg. You knew this night was gonna be far longer than you could stand. You needed a drink. Or 9.

"Hey, no drinking! You're underaged!" Dick nearly shrieked, plucking your fifth(?) flute of champagne. You wouldn't be in a few months. Really he was being quite unreasonable to the drunk person in front of him. Looking him dead in the eyes, you wave another server over and take 2 flutes of champagne. "I'm fine Dick. I've drunken harder stuff than this."

"No," Dick said firmly snatching the 2 flutes from your hand.

"Big bro pleeeaaasee" You drawl sweetly knowing Dick was a sucker for that move. Dick tries to look unmoved but you could see in the slump of his shoulders that he wanted to give in. "I'm having an episode," The word episode felt strange and wrong but there really was no other way to describe it. "and I don't have any painkillers on me." You added hastily.

"Fiiine-" Dick whines, resolve crumbling to dust. Handing back only one flute of champagne, he scolds: "Just don't get shit faced. We're here on a mission."

"Yes, motheeeer,"

Without missing a beat, you down it, feeling the tearing in your head beginning to fade.

"Jesus, calm down," Dick said taking the now empty flute from you.

You are less than surprised by the fact that he isn't fazed by being called mother at this point. It might just be the alcohol. The Powers might not understand the concept of fun but they sure do have taste in alcohol.

While Dick lectures you on safe alcohol consumption and Babs laughs unhelpfully, You feel the press of another person's mind. The other 2 seem to notice it too. Being pulled out of their reverie, they turn to greet them.

"Target at 2'oclock" Babs whispers but your mind had for some reason forgotten how English worked. Instead, it drifted to the simple mind coming closer to them. Almost too quickly, you dropped down to your knees. Your joints complained but you could feel your mind smooth as you placed a gentle hand on the dog's fur.

The dog whuffs with glee as if to say "Yes! There! Pat there!".

Absorbed in the dog's uncomplicated happiness, you began to piece yourself back together and the pain in your head receded.

" Who's a good girl? You are! You are!"

The dog yips happily. Its smooshed face pressing into your hand. You forget the party until-

Dick coughs clearing his throat, laughter bright in his blue eyes.

You, for the first time, notice the person beside the dog. It was their target, Jason Sionis, stretching out his hand to shake yours.

"Oh- Uh- it's just your dog- She's- Hi, I'm Tim Drake." you shoot up to shake his hand. You notice the patches of scabs and scars on his knuckles. You’re pretty sure Dick or Tim could give him a run for his money if they didn't have makeup on. Though that just might speak more to their-as Damian puts it- incompetence.

Your eyes flicker to Dick momentarily as he tries so hard not to laugh.

"Well, it was nice to make your acquaintance," Jason says flatly as he turns his attention to Dick and Babs for a more coherent discussion. You weren’t entirely certain that you offended him but you were probably close.

You want to say that it's his eyes that you notice first. They were a striking shade of ultramarine, a terrifying facsimile of the ocean. They made you shudder. You would have rather noticed how nicely he filled out his suit. The man was made of muscle under that well-tailored suit. You file the image for further appreciation later. But, unfortunately, you are far too accustomed to checking your brothers for wounds for your eyes to not immediately flicker towards the scar on his face. It takes everything in you not to stare at the scar cleaving down the flesh of his cheek rigging the right side of his face into a permanent grin. Thankfully, he leaves them saying something about having business somewhere else.

Sure, the guy falls into Gotham’s pattern of ruining your face and turning to a life of crime but so far he hasn’t really shown anything concrete. Plus, he’s really nice to his dog. No one that nice to a dog could possibly be the Red Death, Black Mask’s shiniest, and rumored to be his most brutal, new enforcer. Then again, your mother always did treat Anatoli like a king.

"Tim was right. You can act like him. You even got him shoving his own foot in his mouth down pat. Great job. " Dick chuckles patting you on the shoulder jostling you out of your thoughts.

You sigh. "The next time I go undercover I'm going alone. I don't even know why you're here."

"I think you've demonstrated why."

You- annoyed, embarrassed, and feeling the marching in your skull coming back- jab "Alright Fabio , you befriend Mr.Pretty boy-" .

"That's pretty mean eve-"

"I didn't mean it to be mean-"you honestly didn't but you were byelingual at this point. "-I think he's pretty. Scars are sexy and all of that carp. "

"I am very concerned."

"You should be. I'm out of booze and the dog just walked away. " you hissed rubbing the side of your head before stomping off to look for more drinks.

You feel your head jack rabbiting again. The staff had, as per some evil person's request (Likely Dick or maybe Babs), cut you off from the booze. You find yourself wandering around until your feet take you outside. The cool night air and the nearly freezing bricks sooth you warmed skin as you slide against it.

"What? Did you come out 'ere to watch my dog piss?" a slightly familiar baritone voice chuckled.

"As fun as that sounds, I just escaped Dick Grayson. I believe that, in itself, is reason enough to go outside and take in the 'fresh' Gotham night air. " you snark, looking up expecting him to grin at you but was greeted with a look of concern. You’ve seen it before. Your hand almost automatically makes its way to your nose. You felt a thick liquid brush against the pads of your fingers. If you looked at them, you’d likely see them covered in blood.

You shrug and brush your deep red sleeve against your face. You probably didn't get all of it based on the crooked grin on his face.

"Shit kid, they'll think I punched you." Jason chuckles good-naturedly. You know he's not nervous. He’s charming enough to talk his way out of it.

"Relax, Dick will likely say I deserved it if they do think you punched me but that is highly unlikely seeing these episodes are an open secret after I bled on Mrs. Yavorski's satin dress a few years ago. "

"Well, in that case, you want a smoke? Should take the edge off." Jason says it as a joke holding out a pack of cigarettes to you. Everyone knows Wayne kids are good kids.

You, feeling particularly cheeky, take the cigarette between his lip and take a long drag, inhaling and letting your eyes slide close.

He makes a quiet choking noise. Away from the sea of minds, you can feel his eyes on you. Wide and disbelieving. A cocktail of interest, embarrassment, excitement, and delight swirls in his mind. It might have been attraction or it might just have been amusement. You shouldn't be too surprised by the reaction. Tim is quite the knock out even when he looks dead on his feet. His confusion only lasts five seconds before you cough out "Christ, it's just as bad as Bruce said it was."

You hand him back the cigarette laughing and coughing into your sleeve.

"So, did your brother tell you to apologize?" He says, clearing his throat not really looking you in the eyes. You can still see the faint speck of color on his face.

"Well, he didn't say it. He doesn’t really have to and I do have manners contrary to popular belief. Plus! In my defense, your dog is cute. "

"Lizzie is, isn't she?" Jason smiles patting Lizzie on her head. It was a soft gesture. Something you really didn't expect from a supposedly hardened criminal let alone someone raised by Roman Sionis.

You crouch down to Lizzie's level and put your hands on the dog's face. Lizzie happily nuzzles into your hands.

"You have a dog?"

" Depends, does Dick count?"

Jason snorts. "Do you ever think before you speak?"

"Not when I'm drunk and bleeding, no."

"How drunk are you?"

You mime counting. "As far as Dick knows, I'm 1 to 2 flutes drunk. As far as the staff knows, I'm 7 flutes drunk."

"I should probably get you back to your brother then" Jason laughs, pulling you by the arm. You notice for the first time just how big his hands really are.

"No, I-"

Gunshots. Pain. Panic. They ring in equal measure to you as a black van pulls up in the alley.

"Fuck! Box!"

A man in a dark suit crumples to the ground. You recognize him. He was part of Jason's security team. In a flurry of movement, Jason's by his side. You think he's checking the injuries- which in your opinion is at once the smartest and dumbest move you could do in this situation- but he-is in fact-checking for a gun.

Gun in hand, Jason begins shooting at the men.

You think to grab a stray brick or something but you knew your best chance was to crouch low and maybe convince Jason to do the same. But based on the murder radiating from him, that was highly unlikely.

Lizzie runs out in front of them to protect Box and Jason. It goes as well as expected.

Lizzie whines into your touch. The tendrils of your mind desperately trying to keep Lizzie there. You want to scream. Your mind surges trying to dip into someone else but Jason's anger and grief consume you. You want to charge at them, rip their throats out, tear them limb from limb. But it's Jason who does it. His body launches forward faster than you could speak.

The men in masks were just as fast. One of them incapacitates him with a well-placed metal pipe to the head. His whole body hits the pavement with one loud thud. Your breath catches.

"There's two of them,"

"What do you mean there's two of them?"

"The boss said black hair, blue eyes, and a fucked up face"

"Did he say what kind of fucked up?"

"Not really"

You want to squawk about how nosebleeds don't really count. Given, it is bleeding like it’s auditioning to be the next Niagara falls.

"Just take them both!" barks a rough voice from the van.

You think to make a break for it but fast as you are(not really). Your head was still ringing and you couldn't really take them out on your own.

You hold your hands up in surrender. "I'll go quietly. I know the drill. "

The men look at each other clearly confused by your cooperation but not really willing to question it.

They throw cuffs on your wrist and literally throw you into the van like a sack of potatoes. Not that they treat Jason any better. He looks dizzy and pale.

"Are you-"

With a heave, he throws up on "your" shoes. You want to laugh. You really do. You also just want to cry.

Tim is going to kill you. No, Alfred will. If you’re lucky-which you never are- Dick will suffocate you with a hug before they ever get to you.

Maybe just maybe, the kidnappers will do it for you.

Yeah, right.

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x oc #jason todd #tim drake #batfam #barbara gordon #dick grayson #false face au #batsis #damian wayne #batfamily x reader #nightwing #dc fanfiction #dc comics

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bisexualsforprompto · 5 years ago

Text

Of Roommates and Red Heroes Chapter 1

AO3

One (You are here) Next

One- Of pilots and new beginnings

Jason Todd ran, ran away from the legacy he could never fill. The one he was still expected to fill. Didn’t they know? Didn’t they know he had changed?

God, was had he even changed? It’s not like he could ever make up for what he did. But he couldn’t wear the colors of the Robin ever again either. He crossed a line, he was past the point of no return.

And Bruce couldn’t let him forget it.

As far as Jason was concerned, he didn’t deserve a redemption.

He didn’t deserve a happily ever after.

Dick (in more ways than one): [is online]

Lil bro Jason: [is online]

Dick (in more ways than one): Come back.

Lil bro Jason: No.

Dick (in more ways than one): Please, Bruce didn’t mean it.

Lil bro Jason: Honestly I give zero f*cks if he meant it.

Dick (in more ways than one): So that's it. You’re just solo now and we’ll never see you again?

Lil bro Jason: You are welcome to visit when you’d like, along with Steph, Tim, Barbara, etc etc. I don’t want to see him again.

Dick (in more ways than one): He’s your dad!

Lil bro Jason: Godammit Dick! He’s not! Open your goddamn eyes! He’s not our dad, he’s a man who just uses us for his dirty work!

Dick (in more ways than one): I can’t stop you from doing this, but just talk to Bruce at least, if you don’t you’ll regret it, trust me I know.

Lil bro Jason: [is offline]

•~•Sunday Nov.17, 8am EST•~•

Knock, knock, knock.

“Mr. Todd.”

Knock, knock, knock.

“I’m coming, I’m coming.” Jason said as he peeled a case file off his face, he’d fallen asleep the night prior reading it. Jason walked over to the nook where he kept all his ‘borrowed’ GCPD case filed which just happened to go missing from their archives every so often. For some reason, Jason liked to review case files. A lot. Maybe it was living with a detective for so long, but he felt at home in his own little world of files.

Jason brought a hand to his head, trying to shield his pounding headache. He remembered going out to the bar, but not much else. He brushed his hand down his face to feel stubble, another thing he’d have to deal with later. He fixed his hair a little bit before getting off his brown leather couch. He checked out what he was wearing, only pants. He sighed and picked up a plain black t shirt off the ground. Sliding it on, Jason walked over to the door and opened it.

Of all the things he was expecting today, he wasn’t expecting his landlord in full suit and tie showing up at his door. Unfortunately, it was his reality. A tall slim and bony man in a tacky olive green suit and oversized brown plastic glasses was holding a clipboard and pen in his hands.

“Mr. Jason Todd?”

Jason sighed, “That’s me.” The man looked him up and down. Jason was about to yell at him for judging but decided against it.

“You’ve been behind on your last payment for this flat. You have one week or you will be evicted.” The man said properly, leaving directly after despite Jason’s protests. Sighing, Jason shut the door.

He hadn’t found work in a long time. He’d been fired from his last job for drinking, and he couldn’t change his ways after being Red Hood and working with Batman. He went by the same mantle but working with Bruce did a number on him as always, only this time it was a positive change. He couldn’t work and make dirty money off drug cartels anymore, Red Hood was a lone vigilante but Jason Todd could only find himself doing honest work. Honest work that was very difficult to find in this day and age.

The only thing Jason could think that would save him would be getting a roommate. Jason sighed once more, all Gothamites were bat-shit crazy (pun not intended) and there was no way in hell he was taking Bruce’s blood money. Jason started drafting an ad and put it on Craigslist. The best he’d be able to do, hopefully before the date he’d be able to meet all of the candidates to make sure they weren’t insane.

‘Searching for a roommate in a flat in Gotham Sun Apartments. $500 per month expected. Contact xxx-xxx-xxx for more information. (Images attached below)’

Jason rubbed his pounding temple, all he could do was wait.

•~Friday Nov. 22, 10am EST~•~•

“Voyage.” Marinette called before stepping into a black portal. She whimpered as she landed in a dark alley. “Tikki, Kaaliki, divide.” She whispered. “Spots off.” She was released from her heroine persona. Marinette was bloody, bruised and confused. She didn’t know where Kaaliki had taken her but she hoped it was far away from Paris. Marinette walked warily out of the alley to see a beautiful city full of life around her. Many people walked past and she could hear snippets of conversation, only something was off about them…they were in English! Marinette realized, could Kaaliki’s Portal have taken her to America or England? Thank god for Madame Bustier’s lessons or Marinette wouldn’t be able to speak a lick of English, she was practically fluent after all of her lessons. Marinette took out her pigtails and slid the bands onto her arm, she checked her purse, Tikki and Kaaliki were in there as well as $2000. Master Fu had given it to her before her...departure.

Marinette continued down the street hoping to find some sign of where she was. Pedestrians gave her strange looks, most likely because of all her evident injuries. Marinette passed by street signs, all to generic to tell her anything. She accidentally bumped into a small girl wearing a sweatshirt that read “Gotham University”.

Marinette knew it was a stretch, it could just be a random sweatshirt but still she was determined to try.

‘Gotham University’ she typed into Google. Bingo. ‘Gotham University is a college in Gotham, New Jersey, America.’ So could she be in America? Marinette surveyed her surroundings, the most prominent building read Wayne Enterprises. ‘Worth a shot’ she mused. ‘Wayne Enterprises, Gotham’. Millions of hits, now she knew she must be in Gotham. Marinette continued to walk the streets to solve her next problem, where could she stay the night?

Marinette sighed turning corners, looking for any signs around. She felt a rumbling in her stomach, she couldn’t remember the last time she ate. Marinette couldn't see any food places around. She wandered around looking wildly for a café, bakery, restaurant, anything. She didn’t even realize she was on a collision course until she bumped into a muscular boy, about 4 years older than herself with black hair with a white streak in it and blue eyes.

•~Friday, 9:40am EST~•~•

Jason groaned as he got up. He wasn’t drunk like most nights before. He immediately went to check his computer, still no hits on Craigslist. Jason sighed, he didn’t know what he’d do if he couldn’t get anyone to rent with him by Sunday. He refused to move back into Bruce’s mansion again. Jason picked up his apartment keys and went to look for some food, he couldn’t find a solution to a problem without food or caffeine (Tim had rubbed off on him more than he wanted).

Jason opened his door and walked down the hall, he opted for the stairs as he didn’t feel like interacting with anyone at the moment. Jason brushed past the Gothamites on the street feeling extremely aggravated. He got lost in his own world of annoyance and didn’t even realize when he ran into a small blue-haired girl.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry!” Marinette said turning pink. She backed away feeling extremely embarrassed, “I just wasn’t looking where I was going and-“ Jason recognized that she wasn’t from Gotham. She just didn’t have that shrewd personality that came with the territory of being a Gothamite. For some reason it made him feel warmer, and his anger felt more soothed.

“It’s ok little lady, really. What brings you to Gotham?” Marinette stared up into the caring blue eyes of the boy she ran into. “I uh, well, um nothing in particular. But would you mind showing me somewhere to eat?” She asked, not wanting to revisit why she had to leave Paris. He seemed caring enough, hopefully he’d take her somewhere to eat. The man nodded, “Of course. I was headed to a café myself little lady. Hey, what’s your name?” Jason could respect that the girl didn’t want to talk about why she was here, after all, Jason didn’t like talking about his own past.

“Marinette.” Marinette blushed. “Alrighty then Marinette, I’m Jason. I’ll take you somewhere.” Jason wanted to scold her for putting so much trust in a stranger blindly as she followed him, after all this was Gotham but he just silently thanked that it was him who got to her instead of some creep. Jason led her to the Garden Café right next to where his flat was.

It might’ve been one of the only places in Gotham that wasn’t completely littered with garbage. It had beautiful flowers and an outdoor patio where patrons could eat. Jason lead Marinette to an empty black table and pulled out a metal chair for her. “Merci!” Marinette smiled, “Thank you, I mean.” Jason made the connection, “So are you from France?” Marinette nodded, “Yes, Paris actually.” Jason nodded, “What's it like there?” Marinette sighed, “Well aside from the terrorist, it’s beautiful and a great place to live.” Jason didn’t even had a drink yet but if he did, he would’ve spit it out right on the spot. “Did you just say terrorist?”

“Um yes, I assumed it was common knowledge. I mean I know Ladybug reached out to the Justice League many times…” Jason gritted his teeth, the damn Justice League. His father’s call no doubt.

“So whos Ladybug?” Marinette pondered what to tell the man across from her, on the one hand, he was the only kind one to her, but she didn’t want to accidentally give away her identity. “She along with Chat Noir, are magical heroes who wield jewels that give them power. Hawkmoth, the terrorist, wants them, because with them he can make a wish and have absolute power.” Jason's eyes widened, sure her story seemed like a poorly written children’s TV show but from the little time he’d known Marinette he’d figured a lot out about her, and he trusted that she wasn’t a liar. And wasn’t a very good one at that. Living with the world’s greatest detective, as much as Jason hated to admit it, did have some perks, Jason could read people without knowing them for long.

“I guess it’s not ideal to escape a terrorist and end up in the crime capital of the world though,” Jason said, he couldn’t imagine why anyone would rather be in Gotham than anywhere else. Marinette hadn’t known it was the crime capital of the world, she wondered why Kaaliki’s voyage sent her there. Maybe she was meant to resume being a hero in Gotham?

“Y-yeah.” Was all Marinette could stammer out. Talking to Jason made her realize so many things she had to do, she hadn’t had much time to think about what it could be like living in another country. She didn’t even have a place to stay yet!

“I know this might be a touchy subject, but...how’d you get those bruises Buttercup?” Marinette touched her hand to her face and ran her fingers down one of the scars. “H-Hawkmoth.” At least it wasn’t a complete lie. She saw Jason clench his fists.

Jason was seething, he couldn’t believe the league would ignore this! One look at this girl would prove that they should’ve listened. If Jason was still aligned with Bruce he would’ve had some choice words with him, instead he decided that he’d notify Dick and possibly the Outlaws the next time he saw them. Jason couldn’t help but feel awful for the girl, he knew what it was like to feel like you couldn’t escape the clutches of a madman. He’d lost a bit of soul to Joker. He wanted to run his fingers down all of her scars and just make everything better, she didn’t deserve that kind of torment. If anything, he did.

“Say Buttercup, where are you staying?” Jason asked before the waiter came to take their orders. Marinette answered the waiter with a simple sandwich and Jason ordered the same. “Um well...I don’t really know yet,” she responded to his previous question.

Unacceptable, she was staying with him now. “How about you come back with me Buttercup. I know we just met, but I don’t want you sleeping on the streets. Gotham is dangerous.” Marinette blushed, just now noticing the nickname he gave her. “I couldn’t do that to you!” She protested.

“It’s not a problem, Buttercup, really.” Marinette sighed, she felt grateful for Jason. Maybe she was being too trusting, but she had no other options. “As long as you let me pay you something.” Jason thought about it, he didn’t want to put this poor girl out but then he realized,

“I think there's a way we can help each other.”

#Of Roommates and Red Heroes #Jasonette #Maribat #miraculous fanfic #LadyArrow

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chronicbatfictioner · 4 years ago

Text

Exchanges and Compromises - Chapter 12

It was decided then that the Talon - Dick Grayson - should accompany Jason to the Wayne Manor. The Oracle has decided that being the only one without 'attachment', i.e. normal people's identity that could be used against them.

The pretty little kitten's name, Jason eventually found out, was Tim Drake. And he would be providing one of the exit strategies. His home, apparently, was right next to the Wayne Manor. His words about knowing of losing parents through violence only made sense after Jason googled the name, and discovered the news article on the kidnapping and murder of Jack and Janet Drake, Tim's parents. It was apparently quite a news back then, only Jason never heard of it since he was already residing in Eth

He was right when he guessed - mostly through his manner and speech - that Tim Drake was rich. The Drake House - although smaller than the Wayne Manor - was still bigger than most homes in the suburbs that Jason knew of. Plus there was a massive yard, sky-high fence, several garages, a greenhouse, and a garden.

And then there were the tunnels.

Tim said that according to the Waynes' side of the architecture, the tunnels tend to lead to nowhere, and were not sturdy enough to be explored. Tim, however, had explored the tunnels when he was really little - as in ten-year-old 'little' and discovered that most were natural tunnels and have exits.

"I hope you've explored with someone who's like, my size." Jason reminded him just as they laid down the plans to him.

Tim glared at him top-to-bottom and then glared at Dick.

"Yeeeah... he's definitely not my size." Jason pointed out. Dick might have been muscular, but more on the lean side. Jason was built like a brick house and a few inches taller and wider than Dick.

"If it's any consolation, I didn't need to squeeze through anything when I went," Dick told him.

"I'll map the dimensions of the exits, anyway, just in case. We went with cameras back then." Tim said. "And now that we've covered the exits, how about the entrance? Would you rather walk right up there and say something along the line of, 'hey, I'm here to deliver the next Wayne heir. And by the way, you owed Talia Al Ghul some child support, but on the bright side, you won't need to pay 'em anymore,'?"

"Yeah, that sounded like a really quick way to get into an altercation." Jason retorted.

"I advise you, Tim, to take them there. Sort of like safety in numbers scenario - whatever happened, the Waynes won't be able to... make Jason and Damian 'disappear' because someone else already knew of their presence in Gotham." Barbara advised. "I've put the articles on stand-by, and shall have Vicky Vale start sniffing around by one week."

"We've got Grayson here as an extra pair of watchful eyes, so to speak. I don't think they'll do anything dramatic." Jason reminded. "Also, if they think they could kill me and take Damian just like that, they might be in for a surprise. Damian isn't... easily persuaded through blood and gore." He stopped short of accidentally revealing that the 'training' he and Damian returned from when they discovered the death of Ra's and Talia at the Algol Island had been Damian's 'training' in death and destruction. Colloquially referred to as the 'Year of the Blood', Damian was sent to retrieve a number of relics from around the world; most held in private collections by colonists who had acquired said relics from native people by force. Combine 'acquisition' and 'force', it was safe to reason that said 'colonists' would have had armies protecting the relic. And Damian had gone through them fairly easily.

And bloodily.

But that was not something Jason would reveal. It would be up to Damian's discretion - later or never - to tell his father. Surely he would not wish to have such thing revealed to a group of people calling themselves 'heroes'.

"I'm in favor of the more the merrier, really. In spite of me being the so-called 'extra' pair of eyes, Tim Drake has higher visibility when it comes to... well... the common people..." Dick remarked. "There might not need to be blood and gore in the immediate future. Plus, I'm not there as a Talon."

"You're there as Damian's guard, the White Ghost. Anyone familiar with the lores surrounding the Al Ghuls would not suspect a thing..." Jason started.

"Can I be the blue ghost, instead?" Dick wanted to know, grinning impishly.

Tim, too, was grinning impishly.

"What," Jason growled, suddenly realized that he was being played.

"I kinda liked blue better than white, y'know?" Dick replied.

"You're not taking this seriously, are you?"

"Oh, I am. I mean, there's a kid's life on the line; a lot more money than I'd ever seen if they were in the form of unpopped corn kernels; heritage; people of Gotham, etc, etc... why wouldn't I take this seriously?" Dick replied as he walked away from the table. "But I still think I look better in blue, right?" he added, pulling out a set of costumes from the cabinets. It was modeled after Jason's costume - "to have a more cohesive look between us," Dick had said. And it was in blue, whilst Jason's was in green.

He groaned exasperatedly. "There is no blue ghost in our ranks..."

"Well, they don't need to know that, do they?" Dick reasoned.

Jason glared at Tim for help. But the boy shrugged, "he's had that made since the day you came. He actually has several sets of those... He said your outfit made for pure awesome day clothes. I, too, worry about his fashion sense."

"Why." Jason partly wanted to know, partly wanted to know what the hell he'd done in the past that landed him with the Marx brothers right there. His costume would work well for the desert - where the Al Ghul's strongholds were mostly at; the jungle surrounding the Al Ghul Island where Damian and Talia would reside during the summer months; or in combat. For daily use, however, Jason would have worn normal suits. "For the love of all things mighty, you folks didn't look through my suitcase, did you?"

"Oh, we know of the suits. The normal people suits, don't worry. I have those made for Dick, too - in blue as per his insistence." Oracle intoned. "And no, Richard, you are not wearing costumes when you walk to the Waynes' front door."

Thank god for the voice of reason.

"Aww... buuuut, it will be more impressive!" Dick wailed, dead-set looked crestfallen, and gave puppy-dog eyes toward Oracle. Jason sighed again. For what seemed like the umpteenth time of the day.

"No means no, Dick. Now, if you'd come up straight from the desert and whatnot, that wouldn't be so strange. But you - and by 'you' I meant Jason and Damian - arrived in Gotham more than a week ago and stayed at the Ritz, 'fer cryin' out loud!" Oracle snapped back.

"Ritz this ain't, but I agree, if we've stayed at the Ritz, there would be questions as to why hasn't anyone seen us. My costume isn't exactly made for urban living." Jason pointed out. Dick was still sulking, but it looked like he - thankfully - finally conceded.

"Fine, I'll wear the monkey suits..." he grumbled. Jason mouthed a 'thank you' toward the projection.

"Okay! Next, backstory excluding the fact that... Talia and Ra's' being murdered and stuff - that what you're planning to say right, Jason?" Oracle continued, ignoring Dick's whines.

"Yes, there's no point in hiding it since Wayne would want to know who the mother was, and we have set out news stating Ra's and Talia Al Ghul being killed in an airplane crash," Jason told her.

"I've seen that news and marked all the news portals that mentioned them. I would like you two to keep an eye on Bane's reaction, as minute as they might be. Dick?"

"Got it. If he as much as breathe wrong in Damian's direction, we kill him." Dick replied. To Tim's and Jason's withering glare, he demanded, "what?"

"Why can't we just have Tim accompanying me, anyway?" Jason finally blurted. "He could jeopardize the whole thing."

"No, he's not. He's just pulling that one out of his ass. He's not gonna kill anybody, right Dick?" Oracle prompted. "Plus, it would be fairly odd if Tim Drake accompanies you, as he himself is quite a well-known individual within the city."

"Hhh... alright..." Jason still grumbled but decided to let it go for now. There were far more important objectives to be had.

"I much prefer Grayson to be with us as well, Jason." Damian suddenly piped up. He has been sitting there, at the head of the table, watching the processions. "With most adult's predisposition to undermine non-adults, Grayson's presence there could deter anyone from trying mischief right away." he reasoned. "Timothy, while I daresay have sufficient combat skills when required, has the benefit of being a public persona while being a child and thus would not come across as strange that I - as a child as well - should come to him first and foremost for assistance."

"Why, thanks, Damian. I think..." Tim replied.

"That is... quite an interesting psychological insight, and validated our plan, I think," Oracle remarked after a few seconds of silence. "Okay, gentlemen? Shall we get the plan rolling, then?"

"We shall," Damian replied. "I cannot wait to see how my father will react."

#Jason Todd #Tim Drake #JayTim #Red Ghost!jason #Stray!Tim #Talon!Dick #Damian Wayne #Damian Al-Ghul #Dick Grayson #Barbara Gordon #Oracle!Barbara #Batless!AU

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another-writer · 5 years ago

Text

Tactics

Summary: You and Bucky can’t take a hint.

What can I say? I’m a sucker for the simple, straightforward cheese.

Your foot tapped the floor of the lift impatiently as you rode up to your floor of the compound, arms stuffed in the pockets of your coat as you relished in the warmth of the building, ears and fingertips still red and stinging from the New York winter.

The black dress and new heels you had been saving for this very occasion hadn’t been worth it and it was for that reason, you realised, you felt disappointed with how the night had gone. It wasn’t the restaurant, or the portion sizes of the food (though you had been hungry from about ten minutes after you had finished eating), or perhaps even your actual date. Just that the effort had resulted in a waste of time.

You weren’t generally a completely confident person; you were content with how you looked, you just wished that … you looked better. But tonight while you were getting ready, you readily admitted to yourself that this was a rare occasion where you looked really good.

When you entered the common area, you weren’t surprised to hear that your fellow teammates were still awake. You heard Bucky and Tony in the kitchen. You almost drooled at the smell of Alfredo sauce wafting though the air.

‘So it sucked?’

You quirked your eyebrow at Tony’s remark. ‘How did you know?’

Tony shrugged half-heartedly as he took a sip from his mug. ‘He’s a dick, I could tell.’

You smirked, unable to argue. ‘If you knew, why did you let this happen?’ you half-cried, making Bucky snicker.

‘Would I actually have been able to stop you?’

You opened your mouth wordlessly for a moment. ‘I- p-probably,’ you managed lamely.

Tony shook his head, waving sardonically as he left. ‘You’ll live,’ he hollered over his shoulder.

You sighed and shrugged your coat off and tossed it on the side of the nearest chair. Bucky smirked as he focused on the pot on the stove, sleeves of his henley pushed back to his elbows.

‘So … good night then?’ Bucky tried.

‘It wasn’t good and it wasn’t terrible. I can barely remember it.’

‘Oh that’s so much worse.’ Bucky shook his head and lowered the stove.

You hummed in agreement. ‘What are you making? I’m starving.’

‘Reheating Sam’s leftovers he really wanted but was too slow to call dibs on,’ Bucky replied nonchalantly. ‘You want some?’

‘Is there enough?’ you asked, smile taunting your lips. ‘I know your diet, I’m pretty sure you eat enough that equates to the body weight of the average manatee.’

Bucky choked on his breath, emitting a brilliant laugh. ‘What?’

You snickered at his response. ‘I’d love some.’

‘Where’d you guys go?’

‘Some sushi place upstate,’ you replied, tying your hair back in a loose bun at the nape of your neck and pouring water out for the both of you. ‘I don’t have anything against sushi but we didn’t eat a lot and he made it pretty clear from the start he was gonna foot the bill so I just let him take over.’

Bucky frowned as he divided out the pasta into two plates; you noticed that there was significantly more in the one he handed to you and you smiled gratefully.

‘Sounds like a jackass,’ he managed around a mouthful of food.

‘He …’ Your defence faltered as you unsuccessfully stifled a smirk. ‘He wasn’t terrible, just … dominant. I think he had a superiority complex.’

You flicked the floor lamp on evening out the light with that coming from the kitchen and sunk back into the sofa.

‘So … a jackass,’ Bucky repeated.

You chuckled and licked some stray sauce from your lip. ‘This is so good by the way, Sam’s gonna kill us.’

‘I mean he’ll try.’

You laughed. ‘Believe me, Barnes, you’re second on his hit list from the time you held Redwing hostage.’

‘Just second? I’m insulted.’

‘You lost out to the guy who took his wings for a joyride. It was a tough decision.’

Bucky snickered and the both of you relished in the comfortable quietness that settled until he felt a strange sense of guilt.

‘For what it’s worth, ‘m sorry your date sucked.’

You shrugged and hummed appreciatively as you ate. ‘’s okay,’ you replied uneasily. ‘It’s not like I got attached to the guy …’

Bucky frowned. ‘But?’

You felt your cheeks heat up. ‘Nothing,’ you replied.

‘But …’

‘Buck, I’m serious,’ you laughed almost nervously under his comically suspicious stare. You held his gaze for approximately five minutes before you felt your resolve start to crack. ‘’s embarrassing,’ you groaned eventually, digging the point of your heel into the ground and setting your half-full plate on the coffee table in front of you.

‘No more embarrassing than accidentally calling Steve dad.’

You and Bucky stared at each other for a moment, the anecdote hanging in the air.

‘Scott?’

‘Scott.’

You smiled weakly; the story usually would have had you doubled over and laughing in the most unattractive way. You leaned back into the couch, sinking into the cushions and slumping with your legs stretched out, holding the base of your glass over your stomach. It felt so good especially after sitting up in an uptight high-end restaurant with an uptight high-end CEO.

Bucky smiled warmly at your posture; it was almost comical seeing you dressed to the nines with your make up still intact, slouched back as if you were in the middle of a binge-watch. The dim glow from the kitchen highlighted half of your face, and the low light from the floor lamp shrouded the room in a warm layer of comfort. He had noticed fairly quickly that you hated bright lights at night.

You groaned self-deprecatingly. ‘I mean, I just want to settle down. I think I want to get married one day,’ you mumbled quietly, though the silence in the room made it so that your voice was clear and loud as day.

Bucky didn’t seem thrown by your confession. ‘Why’s that embarrassing?’

You fixed him with a stare: Seriously? ‘Because it’s … I don’t know.’

‘’s very eloquent of you.’

‘Bucky,’ you groaned, slumping to the side and leaning against the armrest.

‘What’s so bad about that?’ he asked, a nervous laugh wavering his voice, trying to diminish any tension you felt.

You shrugged, even though you knew the answer to his question. ‘Just feels weird to want something like that, doing what we do.’

‘Take it from the hundred-year old guy who’s in his twenties,’ Bucky smirked, ‘you’re allowed to want normal things.’

The corners of your mouth twitched into a small smile, appreciating his humour. ‘Thanks. ‘m sorry if I made things all serious and stuff.’

‘[Y/N], it’s fine,’ Bucky chuckled at your posture (lack of posture?). ‘But … you weren’t pinning all of this on that guy, were you?’

You lifted your head, eyes widening and brows creasing at the ridiculousness of his question. ‘God, no,’ you declared, the dramatics of your voice making Bucky’s eyes soften fondly at your quirk. ‘It’s not like I got my hopes up for a first date with a guy I don’t know but … I want it to happen one day.’

Bucky nodded in understanding. ‘So if it’s not a dominant CEO with a superiority complex -’ you snorted ‘- then what are you looking for?’

You shrugged again, feeling as though you were under a spotlight; as if moving away from it, you gathered yours and Bucky’s plates and moved towards the kitchen, gesturing for him to keep sitting when he moved to help you.

‘I dunno, what does anyone look for? Just a guy with common sense.'

‘Allow yourself one luxury,’ Bucky called from the armchair.

‘If you don’t think common sense is a luxury, you clearly haven’t dated much.’

Bucky smirked. ‘I don’t know whether now’s a good time to brag or not.’

Perching on the arm of the sofa next to him, you ran your hands through your hair, feeling second-hand embarrassment at yourself, unable to stop thinking of the last few hours.

‘You have rights.’

‘True, I don’t think I ever dated anyone who lacked common sense -’

‘Shut up,’ you groaned. ‘In my defence, I didn’t pick him, this wasn’t my choice.’

‘Who set you up - Sam?’

‘Natasha. I didn’t think it would be this bad.’

Bucky’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, as though he was both confused and in thought.

‘Wouldn’t have thought so either, myself,’ he said.

You could practically see the gears turning in his head, and suddenly felt as though you were on the same wavelength.

‘Because Nat’s not bad at anything,’ you said, the realisation evident in your voice. ‘Which means she set a bad date on purpose.’

‘And not that it’s important, but I’d like to know how she knows a douchey CEO anyway,’ he added.

Why would she do that? you wondered. It wasn’t as if you were hurt per say, but the chances of Natasha screwing you over accidently in the dating department were incredibly slim. So what was the point?

‘Natasha’s not spiteful,’ you said. ‘Like, there’s no agenda here or anything.’

‘Maybe there was,’ Bucky said nonchalantly, triggering your mind to worry. ‘Did you steal any of those kale smoothies she has?’

You snorted, wondering whether Bucky was trying to make you laugh or was being dead serious. ‘Those were hers?’

‘She’s suddenly really obsessed with them.’

‘I didn’t take any of her stuff, Barnes.’

‘See, now you broadened it to stuff, which makes me wonder what you have done.’

Natasha couldn’t help but roll her eyes as she retreated back to her room, having had enough of yours and Bucky’s conversation.

‘Maybe Sam dared her.’

‘Why are you so desperate to make Sam part of this?’

She listened to you analyse your date and her potential motives with the same in-depth, manic red string habit you would use for scoping out enemy bases and proximity targets. And she grew further frustrated when Bucky returned with the same energy, strategising with you. You were both enjoying yourselves, rebounding off each other, energising one another.

‘We stole his food, we need leverage.’

‘You stole his food.’

‘You were complicit.’

And she wondered how neither of you had realised how well you went together. Natasha knew that being so direct as to tell both of you this would injure your egoes. She knew that there were underlying feelings between you and Bucky. And listening to your banter with him, and your inability to pinpoint why she would set you up on such an awful date was almost hurtful.

And she wondered what she would try next to get you both to realise how dense you two were being.

#marvel one shot #marvel imagines #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes imagine #bucky barnes one shot #Bucky Barnes #imagine #one shot #why do you queue like you're running out of time

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takadasaiko · 4 years ago

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Compromises (a Veronica Mars one shot)

FFN II AO3

Summary: Logan has been in limbo since returning from deployment, spending every night at Veronica's, but never actually moving in. When he starts looking at buying a place of his own, both he and Veronica find themselves having to answer the tough question: what do they really want?

This particular story was requested via a prompt from @elby3000 : "I want to take a shower so you should probably join me. It’ll save water."

Yeah.... it kind grew beyond that, but there are definitely shower shenanigans involved :P

Compromises

The sun was streaming in through the bedroom window, pulling Veronica reluctantly from the ease of sleep. It was Saturday. And early. Too early for the sun to be peeking in and waking her up. She rolled over with a frustrated sound, fully intending on putting her back to the offending ball of light, wrapping an arm around her boyfriend, and falling immediately back to sleep.

Only she found an empty space where Logan had slept the night before. That's right. She forgot. Apparently the Navy has managed to train his ability to sleep the day away right out of him. He'd likely already been up for hours if the cool sheets on his side of the bed were anything to go by. Awake and productive like a real, functioning adult. It was still a concept she was wrapping her mind around some days.

Veronica yawned and stretched as long as her body could reach. She supposed she should try being a functioning adult too, even if she was getting a later start. She should go get curtains. That would keep that sun out.

After another few moments of procrastination she finally rolled off the bed, bare feet hitting the carpet of the bedroom floor and she sauntered tiredly towards what smelled like breakfast. Okay. She could get used to Adult Logan. Especially if Adult Logan was cooking breakfast for her.

"I smell bacon!" she announced over the sizzling as she rounded out of the bedroom and into the hall.

She found him leaning on the counter opposite the stove and scrolling through something on his laptop. He turned at the sound of her voice, that lopsided smile of his tugging into place. "Did it call to you?"

"It did. Loudly and flavourfully."

He quirked an eyebrow at that. "It called flavourfully, huh?"

She smacked him on the arm playfully and his grin returned. "Tell me there's coffee already made. Then I'll start making sense."

He twisted around to flip the bacon. "It's been in the pot for a couple of —" She grabbed the pot and poured the dark coffee into a fresh mug. "Okay. Don't say I didn't warn you," he finished.

Veronica made a face at the burnt coffee, but he didn't seem to notice, his attention re-focused on his laptop. She poured the remains out into the sink and started a new pot. "What's got your attention this morning?"

"Looking at apartments," he said, turning the computer so she could see.

"For that price tag, we call those condos," Veronica answered as she peered at the very nice layout with an address not too far from there. Funny what a few miles up the beach changed. Gotta love Neptune.

Logan huffed a laugh and turned back to the bacon. He fished it out of the grease and onto a paper towel to pat it dry, then dumped a couple of eggs in the scramble.

"You thinking about having some lady friends over that you don't want me to know about?" she teased as she stole one of the barely-cooling pieces of bacon.

"Oh yeah. Definitely. Rave parties every night, wild bingers. Like college all over again."

"Or high school."

He made a noncommittal sound as he stirred the eggs and shrugged. "I need to get my stuff out of Dick's place."

"Why?" Right after Logan had gotten home from deployment Dick had told him that he needed the guest house that he rented from him for another friend coming into town. Logan had talked about getting a place then, but Veronica had just signed the lease where she was and had roped him into helping her move in. One night led to the next and it wasn't like he would have been sleeping at his old place anyway. Somewhere along the way he'd moved anything that would have gotten in Dick's buddy's way into one of Dick's many guest rooms in the main house and still used that as his home address for any official paperwork.

He dumped the eggs out onto a plate for her. "Apparently his dad's selling the place."

"Did you ever have a lease when you were in the guesthouse? If so, he can't just kick you out, even if he sells it."

"We don't. It's not a big deal. I should have done this after I got back. I've just been putting it off."

It was strange. Logan hadn't moved in, per se, and she wasn't sure she even wanted to start in on what it would take to contemplate it officially being their place versus her place that he slept over at, but she did know that she liked having him there. It was nice - comforting, even - to have him so close after they'd been away from each other so long. She'd gotten used to it faster than she ever thought she could. It was one thing if he just had a room or a guest house he rented from his best friend - a crash pad, really, for between deployments - but if he had his own place, what was that going to do? Would he suddenly want to start sleeping over there rather than here, remembering how much more he enjoyed his million dollar condo on the beach lifestyle versus her rent controlled three story walk-up on the beach? He'd have room for his weights and his surfboards, and all the other things still stored at Dick's place. Then what? Veronica's little apartment would gather dust while his neighbors gave her that look 09'ers gave to the riffraff that stumbled in where they didn't belong. That was his world, not hers and she —

"Veronica?"

The spiraling slammed to a halt as Logan's voice cut through. She blinked hard.

"Coffee's ready."

"Yep," she answered automatically.

"You okay?"

"Yep."

"So do you want to?"

Oh. He'd asked her a question. Shit. "Want to….?" she prompted hesitantly as she poured the fresh coffee into the mug. That smelled glorious. She might actually be able string coherent sentences together with that stuff.

"Go with me to check a few out today," he said in a tone that clearly meant he was repeating the question.

"Oh," Veronica manages, finding that clever gaze of his fixed on her expectantly. She took a long sip of scalding coffee and a deep breath. "What I want-" she set it down on the counter and moved forward, her fingers dancing around the hem of his pajama bottoms and up under his t-shirt, nails scraping lightly against bare skin and she saw him draw in a sharp breath - "is to take a shower. You should probably join me. You know, save water?"

"I think I could get behind that," he answered, his voice low and amusement dancing in his eyes as he ducked down, catching her in a kiss. Veronica felt his arms go around her waist and a muffled laugh escaped her as he hauled her off her feet. She shifted, arms around his neck and legs around his middle as he started back towards the bathroom, the list of available condos left forgotten on his laptop.

------

Several weeks later Logan finally managed to convince her to go with him to check out what he was still determined to call an apartment rather than a condo. The building wasn't technically a high-rise building, sitting at five stories tall with a separate garage rather than street parking. You needed a fob to get past the gates and there was an elevator up to the floor with the specific unit he was looking at. Logan was not nearly as amused as Veronica was with herself when she asked - in a quality 09'er impression that she had perfected years before - where the doorman was and why they'd have to fob themselves in. What if her hands were full of all the clothes that daddy's money had bought her? She thought she saw Logan roll his eyes at that one.

The condo was beautiful, even if she wouldn't admit it. The floor-to-ceiling windows reminded her of the guesthouse at Dick's that he'd stayed at, but this one looked down over the ocean instead of on level with it. There were two and a half bedrooms, two bathrooms - the one attached to the master bedroom making her just a little bit jealous with its deep soaking tub - a massive kitchen, and a deck that looked out on the ocean as well.

"Do I even want to know how much something like this costs?" she asked, joining him on the deck where he was leaned against the railing, taking in the view. He liked it. She could tell he liked it.

"Do you?"

Veronica loosed a long, loud, dramatic sigh. "Yeah. Hit me."

"Just under two."

"Two what?"

"Million."

She nearly choked on her own breath. "A month?"

That finally broke the love affair gaze he had going on with the waves rolling in and he turned to look at her, laughing. "A month? Seriously? I know I threw money around when we were younger, but hell, Veronica." He turned back to the view. "No, overall. Might be over with taxes."

"Oh," she managed. "You want to buy it."

"Yeah."

"Why?"

"Why not? It's an investment. I'm not going anywhere permanently and there are a few other perks." When she crossed her arms to wait on what those were, she saw him give her a quick glance, almost like he was trying to make adjustments for his example. "Next spring you won't have to deal with the idiot AirBnB renters you know will be in the complex raging all night. You can just come crash over here."

"What if I like my idiot AirBnB renters?" Veronica snapped, the question sounding absurd even as it left her lips. She'd grown up in Neptune. She and everyone else knew spring breakers were what they were. No one liked them.

Logan quirked an eyebrow at that. "You spent a Skype session that took me three days to secure last March to bitch about spring breakers in general. That was before you rented a place right on the beach."

"So's this place. What's the difference other than the price tag?"

Logan loosed a long breath, frustration clear even if he looked like he was desperately trying to keep a lid on it. "Okay, what is it you hate?"

"What do you mean?"

"You obviously hate something about it, but you hated the last three places too. I thought you would've liked this one."

"Why does it matter if I like it? You're the one buying it."

"Not yet," he popped back, his tone increasingly more strained and he watched her expression carefully. He was looking for whatever she wasn't saying. Damn him. "What's going on, Veronica?"

"Nothing."

"Something is."

She felt her temper flare, even if there was no reason for it to. She knew that. Logically she knew that, but it was like she couldn't stop herself. "You know what, buy it or don't. It's your money, it's your place. If the ritzy, multi million dollar condo is where you feel at home, I say go for it."

And then she was storming out, something in the back of her mind screaming at her that it wasn't fair to do that to him without even trying to figure out why she was reacting this way. It didn't seem to matter, even if it did. She couldn't stop herself.

----------

Logan had been left standing alone on the balcony of an apartment that he wasn't even sure that he wanted to own as Veronica had stormed out. Distant chatter below on the beach joined the sound of the waves and the eventual awkward question if he was done viewing the unit from the realtor that had made herself scarce during the abrupt argument that he'd been blindsided with. He thought he had been asking her opinion. He thought he'd been including her in a life decision. He wasn't sure where he'd gone wrong.

Veronica's phone rolled straight to voicemail when he called. Not once, not twice, but three times over the next hour, and Logan had taken the next several to vent his frustrations with the top down on his convertible, hitting breakneck speeds down the PCH to try to work through some of the confusion he had and give both of them time to breathe. He didn't know what she wanted and Veronica sure as hell wasn't telling him. Every night she wanted him to stay, but she never actually asked him to move in. He'd been left in a sort of limbo, even after he'd explained that he was being moved out of his apartment at Dick's. He had thought maybe he misread her signals and so he'd started looking for a new place. Apparently that had been the wrong move too.

The sun was setting by the time he pulled up to park the BMW along the street outside her apartment and killed the engine. It took another five minutes to convince himself to get out and start up the stairs. He had a key. It wasn't that he couldn't get in, but suddenly in the wake of a fight in which he still wasn't sure how it'd been started, he wasn't sure if he should knock or just walk in. It wasn't like it was his place too. There had been a few brief times that she had referred to the apartment as theirs in some form or fashion. It always caught him by surprise in the best of ways and he had thought she'd follow it up with something that indicated that he actually belonged there permanently, not that it had just been a slip of the tongue, but she never did.

Finally, he dug the key out of his pocket and stuck it in the lock, turned, and pushed the door open.

Veronica was sitting on the couch with a bowl of ice cream balanced on one knee and some show that he didn't recognize playing on the TV. He closed the door behind him, locked it, and circled the couch. "I need you to give me a hint."

"About what?" Veronica asked around the spoon in her mouth.

"What the hell that was."

"I don't know. You're the one that took forever to get home."

The word struck a nerve and Logan felt his temper flare dangerously. "This isn't my home, Veronica," he snapped. "This is your home. Your name's on the lease, you pay the rent, you have all of your shit here. I just sleep over."

"If you need your space go buy your condo," Veronica popped back and it felt like a slap to the face, even if somewhere under the sting he recognized that particular brand of venom in her voice as the type she used when she was trying to hide something else.

"Don't give me that!" he shouted, finally drawing her gaze around. "You want me over here, but I'm still living out of a bag like when I'm deployed. I try to go get my own place and you storm out like I just threw something in your face. I don't know what you want from me!"

"You!" she shouted back, suddenly on her feet, the bowl somehow deposited on the coffee table. "I want you!"

They stood there staring at each other for a long moment after the outburst, her words hanging between them. "I don't know what that means," he confessed softly and without warning she covered the space between them. Her hands reached up to his face, dragging him down to hers and he felt her pull him into a kiss that he was powerless to stop. Suddenly her fingers were pulling at his belt and he was tugging at her shirt. They were moving together and it was sort of an answer to his question. A piece of the answer. He wasn't sure, but in that moment, he just needed to be close to her in any way that he could.

----------

Sex was a good distraction. Sex with Veronica was the best distraction, but when the distraction ended and they were left breathless in bed, pillows thrown to the floor and the sheets crumpled at the foot of it, the questions started to seap back into his mind. Dangerous and loud and swirling, threatening to drag him under and drown him. Sex was good, but if this was going to work - and Logan wanted this to work with Veronica more than he wanted anything else in his life - it had to be more. They had to figure this out.

He rolled over in bed, finding her tugging the sheets up to wrap around herself and he laced one arm around her middle to curl into her, pressing a kiss against her shoulder. In turn, Veronica shifted onto her side so that she could wrap an arm around him and she ran one bare foot up his calf. He shivered, tightening his hold. "Hey."

"Hey yourself," she answered, her voice relaxed.

"I need to know what I did wrong."

And just like that he felt her tense, but he refused to let go. Finally, she turned those clear blue eyes on him. "Do we have to talk about this now?"

"No," he breathed out, "but I want to. Please."

She sighed deeply and nuzzled in, sending a rush of relief through him. "Talk," she huffed and he had to stop himself from chuckling. Instead he kissed the top of her head and felt her nails scrape along the skin over his spine, threatening distraction if he'd let it.

"I just need to know what you want."

There was a long moment before she loosed another breath. "I don't want things to change."

"Veronica, Dick's selling the house and, crazy thing, for all the places that the Navy sends me, they kinda want a home address. I get that it's too soon for that to be here, but -"

"I never said that."

That stopped him. "You never said it… should be either."

There was a lot of sighing coming from her tonight. She moved, nudging him so that he rolled to his back and she eased herself up on her elbows so that she was looking down on him, her expression tight as she worked through what she wanted to say. She started several times, but the words seemed to get stuck somewhere between where they formed up in her mind and when they actually rolled off her tongue. She would open her mouth, close it, and those pretty blonde brows of hers would draw together as her lips tipped down in a frown.

"Veronica," he coaxed, "I just need to know what you want."

"I don't know," she confessed softly. "It was easier when you had a place but just…. chose to stay with me."

"I'm always choosing to stay with you."

"Are you?" she huffed. "Because you've never really lived with me. You're the man that lives in mansions and suites and -"

"Tiny quarters on the USS Truman," he offered the alternative.

That stopped her. "What?"

"Well, you seemed to be really focused on all the crazy nice places I've lived, but you've never seen what the ships we deploy on look like. There's something like five thousand men and women on my ship. I may not have to share my bunk with a dozen other guys, but it's tiny. Makes this place look like a castle."

"I like this place," she said softly.

"Me too."

"But you also like the condo, and if you bought it, someday…. you'd want me to move there."

"I'm gonna tell you something crazy. You listening?" He waited until she nodded and he couldn't stop the small smirk that tugged his lips. "Just because you buy a condo doesn't mean you have it for life. You can sell it. Rent it out even. Not signing my soul over to it."

Veronica snorted a laugh and nudged him hard in the ribs with her elbow. "Asshole."

"Yeah, but you knew that getting into this." He leaned up and pecked a quick kiss against her lips before falling back down against the pillow. "Here's the thing, Veronica: I want to be with you. Where doesn't matter."

"Even if it's a box on the street."

"Okay, I'm going to redirect you back to my earlier statement about the US Navy wanting a permanent address."

"So give them this one."

The statement hit him hard. "You want me to move in?"

"I don't want you to go."

"Getting my own place doesn't mean leaving you."

"But you won't be here."

"And you want me here?"

"I do."

"Okay," he breathed. "Here are my terms."

She cracked a smile at that. "I'm listening."

"I need more than a drawer."

"We might be able to swing that."

"And I need to pay half the rent and utilities."

And just like that he saw her expression darken. "I can pay my own rent and utilities, Logan."

"I'm not asking to pay them for you. If I live here, I'm asking to pay my half."

"And when you're deployed?"

"We'll cross that bridge next time we get there."

She considered that for a long moment. "Done."

"And I want my name on the lease."

Veronica sighed loudly. "You drive a hard bargain, Echolls."

"It's all about compromises, Mars. So I hear."

"Fine."

"Okay," he murmured with a grin, catching another kiss. "Hey, you know what I need?"

"To stop while you're ahead?"

"A shower. Since I'm gonna pay half the water bill, I think it's only reasonable to conserve water."

"Yeah?"

"Absolutely. For the environment."

She choked on a laugh with that one and leaned down to kiss him again before rolling, taking the sheets with her as she started for the bathroom. She turned back to watch him as he stretched out on the bed, grinning at her before finally moving to join her.

-----------

Notes: Have I mentioned that I love the idea of them learning to communicate as adults? Because I love the idea of them having to communicate as adults. Their wants, their fears, and everything in between. Honestly, I just love them.

#Veronica Mars #Logan Echolls #VMfanfic #VeronicaMarsFanfic

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sakuwriteshere · 5 years ago

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The Apple Pie in My Life - Chapter 9 : Lies

Summary: What happened between two best friends when someone messes with their lives? Can the past changes the future or can the future changes the past?

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Female!Reader

Characters: Dean Winchester, Sam Winchester, Female!Reader, OC Abbigail, OC James, OC Alex, OC Purson

Words count: 3707 words

Warnings: Angst, cursed words, mention of vomiting, betrayal

A/N: As per usual, this is unbetated and I’m sorry for any grammar mistakes or error spelling. Comments are loved!

Chapter 9 : Lies

Everything around you felt heavy and weird, like in an eerie dream you knew you were having but couldn’t wake up from. You didn’t know how long it has been nor how you ended up here, but there you were, sitting in the brothers’ motel room, surrounded by people that felt like strangers. The five of you were silent, except for the few sniffling sounds Abbigail made as she calmed down slowly. You took the glass of cold water Sam handed you and drank it at a slow pace. To be honest you didn’t know what you were doing, you went on autopilot mode since James had dropped the news like a bomb: they came from the future and you and Dean were (or will be?) their parents.

“H-how?” You asked in a strangled voice, your throat feeling dry despite the water you’d just drank.

Sam looked at you pitifully. You would think he would be more whiplashed than that after a news like this. He should feel the same way like you or his brother were feeling right now, unless…

Your head snapped in Sam’s direction, the both of you having a silent conversation. Slowly his pitiful face turned into an apologetic one.

He knew. That bastard knew and didn’t say anything!

You looked away, refusing his silent apology and your eyes fell on his big brother. Dean was sitting on the floor, in a corner of the room, his knees bent, elbows resting on them while his hands supported his head. Judging by the way he was staring at the floor, Dean was as shocked as you were.

“How long?” You asked Sam, avoiding his eyes.

Sam rubbed the back of his neck and took his time to answer you, he was choosing his words carefully.

“I suspected something very quickly.” He started to explain. “I just had the confirmation a few days ago.”

“And you kept it from us? From me ?” Dean finally spoke for the first time, an angry glare directed at his brother.

Sam shifted from one foot to the other, feeling bad for betraying his own brother.

“I thought... I thought you suspected something too.” Sam tried to justify himself. “I mean, look at them! It’s kind of obvious when you think about it.” He waved a hand towards the twins but you refused to look at them.

“‘Obvious’?” You chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, Sam! Meeting your kids from the future is something so obvious! Why didn’t I think about that before?” You didn’t care if you hurted him at this point.

“Look, I’m sorry, ok?” Sam said but the tone of his voice didn’t sound as sorry as he said. “They didn’t want me to let you know. They were scared it would change the future if you knew the truth.”

You understood their reasons but you weren’t going to let them know that. You had every right to feel angry. It wasn’t the first time a Winchester betrayed you, after all.

“The thing is,” Sam said after a moment. “I think the past has already changed. Your actual past is different from the one they know.”

Since no one spoke, Sam kept on going with his theory.

“Something happened between the both of you in our past and I think Purson is behind all of it. If we don’t do something the kids might disappear.”

Dean and you reacted right away hearing this. The idea of something happening to them felt like a slap in the face.

“What do you mean?” You and Dean asked at the same time, and for the first time you look at each other in the eyes.

“In their...huh...time?” Sam wasn’t sure how to explain this. “The two of you are like two peas in a pod but here you’re at each other's throat, literally.” You and Dean nodded, agreeing with that fact.

“I’ve been researching and there’s not a lot of information about this demon. I just know that he’s the guardian of the past, present and future. So, I think for whatever reasons, he went to the past and changed yours and Dean’s which will affect your future and by extension, the twins’.”

Dean stood up and came closer to Sam, the shock of learning he’s a father subsided a bit, leaving him in hunter mode.

“If you’re right and that demon really changed our past, how come the kids are still here?” He asked his brother.

“We’re not born yet, in this timeline.” James thought out loud, then turned his face to look at his sister.

Abbigail cocked her head on the side and thought deeply.

“We’ve followed him in this kind of portal. Maybe we’re not dead yet because we’re not even born here?” She tried.

“Yes. Yes!” Sam snapped his fingers, understanding where the kids were going. “All of this resulting in some kind of a…”

“Paradoxe.” Sam and the twins concluded at the same time, realization written all over their faces.

“Calm down Dr. Emmett Brown.” Dean said to his brother, and you couldn’t help but smile at the reference.

“No but Dean we’ve got something working with.” Sam ignored him, you could hear the gears working in his brain. “And I think I know exactly when Purson did something to change your past.” Sam added, making a face when he thought about it. This wasn’t going to be easy.

“What happened during that prom night?” He asked you and his brother.

Once again, the both of you had hard faces at the mention of that particular night.

“Nothing!” You and Dean said at the same time, the anger lacing your tones.

Sam gave you a bitch face, the way you acted was clearly a sign that he was right.

“Ask him!”

“Ask her!”

You said again in one voice. Dean mirroring the surprise on your face but quickly it was replaced with bitterness. How dare he? He was the one responsible in the first place and he was going to drop everything on your back?

You crossed your arms upon your chest and focused on the ugly, dirty wall next to you, refusing to look at anybody.

The room fell silent for a short moment, and Sam’s desperate sigh broke it.

“Y/N.” Sam called your name gently. He knew he wasn’t going to win over his brother so he went for the less difficult person. “Please.”

You shut your eyes and bit your inner cheek. Your resolve to keep it a secret breaking slowly. You hated thinking about that night. It was your most painful memory. That night you learned the hard way that having a normal life wasn’t possible for you. All your dreams and hopes were crushed in one second.

“Nothing happened.” You muttered sadly, you wrapped your arms around you as you fought against the tears. You hated how hopeless you felt every time you thought about that horrible night.

Since no one spoke, you kept on telling your story. “I’ve waited for your brother the whole night. He never came. See? There’s nothing to say.”

“You got balls!” Dean exclaimed, walking back and forth in the middle of the room. “Of course I wouldn’t come after what you did!”

“‘What I did’? I didn’t do anything!” You jumped from your spot, fists trembling from rage against your sides.

Behind you Sam gave the twins a reassuring squeeze, at least you were talking about that night. It was some sort of improvement.

“Oh right! Because you’re a saint! No better, you’re just like those Angels, real dicks!”

“Dean. What did she do?” Sam interfered, he needed to know Dean’s side of the story.

Dean glared at his brother, a vain attempt for him to tell his brother to let it go. He had built a strong wall around those memories. Never did he feel so betrayed since that night. Seeing you with someone else was one thing, the words you threw at him, those really hurt.

“Dean, do it for James and Abby.” Sam pleaded.

Dean shut his eyes and breathed deeply. His resolve crashing down.

“I…” He cleared his throat, the waves in his voice betraying him.

“I came the day before. I wanted to surprise you.” Dean said, a sad smile on his lips as he recalled that day.

You turned around, your brows furrowed as you didn’t remember seeing him.

“I was waiting for you in front of the highschool. When I spotted you, you were with that douche.” He spatted the last word, his face showing his disgust.

“Who?”

“Your boyfriend, Alex.” Dean gave you a face, not falling for the dumb act you were giving him.

“What? No! Why are you making up things?” It was your turn to be angry. It was really a low move from him to lie and turn you into the mean one.

“It’s the truth!” Dean yelled and you were speechless when you saw the pain in his eyes.

“When I came closer you- you were so cold and distant. I didn’t recognize you.” Dean kept on going, truly decided to tell the truth.

“You could have simply told me to leave but no, you had to be mean, you had to hurt me. You were my best friend Y/N, how could you use my deepest secrets to hurt me?” He asked, tears pooling in his eyes.

*FLASHBACK*

As soon as he spotted you in front of the big main doors, Dean climbed out from his beloved Impala, excited to see you and show you that his dad let him borrow Baby for your special night. He wanted to make it special for his best friend.

His smile fell once he stopped a few meters away and saw Alex’s arm draped over your shoulders. He swore you’ve smirked when you saw him. Dean blinked at that thought and the next second he saw you kissing Alex deeply.

Dean didn’t let this bother him and came closer, greeting you and ignoring Alex perfectly.

“Hey Y/N. Long time no see, huh?” Dean tried to be casual but there was something strange about you, he couldn’t put his finger on it.

“What are you doing here, Dean?” You asked, and Dean could hear the disgust in your voice when you said his name.

“Hmm, the prom night? It’s tomorrow, remember?” Once again he tried to ignore all the weird vibes he got from you. Maybe you just had a bad day?

“Right.” This time he couldn’t be mistaken, you really smirked. “The thing is, I don’t need you anymore. I’ve found better.” You said as you wrapped Alex’s neck with your arms, looking at him lovingly.

“Alex? Really?” Dean couldn’t help but laugh at that. For sure you were playing him, it was a very bad joke but Dean couldn’t understand your humour sometimes.

“Hey don’t act like you’re better than him!” You replied angrily. “You Winchesters, always thinking so highly of yourself. You’re just trash! A real pain in my ass.”

Dean couldn’t speak. He had never heard you speak like that. The lack of response just fuelled you to keep going.

“We all know that you’re not the one you pretend to be, Dean. Underneath your whole ‘I could give a crap,’ bad-boy thing that there is something more going on, something ugly and so true. And you spend so much time trying to convince people that you're cool, but it's just an act. We all know that you're just a sad... lonely little kid.” You told him, the dark smile on your lips growing the more Dean’s face fell.

“And you’ll end up alone, Dean. Mommy left you, I’m leaving you. Your dad doesn’t care if you’re on your own or not…” You trailed off, at some point you had let go of Alex and walked closer to Dean, whispering all his darkest secret fears. You were so close to him, your body touching slightly and you laughed to yourself when you felt his body shaking against yours. Slowly you brought your lips to his ears and whispered what you hope would be the last nail in the coffin.

“And one day, little Sammy will leave you too.”

Dean pushed you from him violently, he looked at you with so much hate, his eyes teary. Inside you were gloating.

Without saying a word Dean left, running towards his car. The door cringed and slammed powerfully. You watched him driving away, a pleased smile all over your face.

A job well done.

***

Everyone in the room was speechless once Dean finished to tell his side of the story. You couldn’t believe your own ears. You didn’t remember any of it.

“Why are you lying?” You asked in a shaky voice.

Dean brought his face closer to you and planted his gaze in yours.

“Look into my eyes and tell me if I’m lying!” He yelled at you.

You stepped back, shaking your head no. You believed him but you knew you didn’t say those things to him. Even after all those years and the bitterness you felt towards him, you wouldn’t say it. You knew Dean was scared to be left alone, his family was everything to him.

“I didn’t...I would never...You have to believe me.” You choked on your words, feeling the air leaving your lungs as you started to panic. You didn’t know what was going on anymore.

Sam pressed his body between you and Dean, a hand on each other’s chest, separating you a bit more and he gave you a reassuring smile.

“I believe you, Y/N.” He said gently.

“Sam!” Dean argued, hurt that his brother preferred to believe you instead of him.

“And I believe you too Dean.” Sam said quickly, his voice strong, not a trace of doubt in his voice.

You and Dean gave him a questioning look, not understanding how he could possibly believe the both of you. Sam’s hands fell from your chests and took a step back.

“Remember what we’re hunting. Purson is a demon. I believe you Dean when you say that Y/N had acted that way and I believe you Y/N, when you say you don’t remember any of it. There’s only one explanation possible…” Sam said calmly, everything had finally clicked together.

“She was possessed.” James and Abbigail gasped when the realization hit them.

Hearing this, your heart stopped. How could it be possible? You didn’t remember anything, you weren’t the best hunter in the world but you would remember being possessed if it happened to you.

“Think about it, Y/N. It makes sense. Purson possessed you, demons can read into your minds, knew everything you knew and used it against Dean to hurt him.” Sam explained, oblivious of your distress state.

“I would remember if it had happened. Possessed people can remain conscious, trapped in their own body. I should remember this!” You tried to find a flaw in Sam’s theory, you had to. There was no way you would accept that you’ve been possessed without knowing. There was no way something like this could make you feel so helpless.

“Not if it didn’t want you to know.” And with that simple sentence, Sam destroyed your last hope. Seeing the defeat crawling over your face he quickly added “I’ve been possessed, I know what I’m talking about.”

Knowing that even Sam could have been possessed didn’t make you feel better, on the contrary it made it worse. If even a Winchester could be possessed then, there was no hope at all.

Bringing a shaking hand over your mouth, you started to feel sick, a heavy weight down your stomach. You didn’t care anymore that you were crying, the tears falling freely down your cheeks. Without a warning you rushed into the bathroom and didn’t care if the people behind you could hear the disgusting sounds you made as you threw up into the toilets. You barely register the sound of something crashing in the other room and Dean yelling a ‘Son of a bitch’ at no one in particular.

“Why us? Why do things like these keep happening to us?” Dean asked his little brother, he knew Sam wouldn’t have all the answers but he hoped he would have this one at least, for his own sanity.

Unfortunately, just like Dean feared, Sam didn’t know, a slight shake of his head as a silent answer. Dean sighed and let his body fall heavily on one of the beds, covering his head with his hands while he thought about all those years he had lost, all the pain, fear and rage he had felt, all of this for nothing.

“Dad…” A soft and scared voice came from behind him and Dean tensed at the word, he couldn’t help himself but jerked away at the soft touch falling on his shoulder.

Abbigail stood next to him, hurt written all over her face because of his rejection. He felt bad, so bad, when he saw her face. As he learned the truth behind his past, he had forgotten that Y/N and he weren’t the only ones pushed down into this hellish mess. But Dean couldn’t help them at the moment, he knew the children, his children, needed him more than ever but this was too much, even for him.

As he gave Abbigail an apologetic glance he saw James coming closer, wrapping Abby’s body with his arms, giving her the comfort she needed.

“It’s alright Abby. Give them time.” James whispered into his sister’s hair as he embraced her strongly. Then James stared into Dean's eyes, a strange but somewhat familiar glint in his Y/E/C’s eyes. Dean knew this feeling, he’s seen it in his brother’s eyes a few times, hell, Dean knew he had this kind of flame burning in his own eyes so many times. He knew this feeling. A silent promise.

Everything’s alright. We’ll deal with it. I’ll protect you.

Even though your stomach felt empty, you stayed into the bathroom, sitting on the cold, stained tiles, one arm braced over the toilet bowl, your dizzy head pressed against it. Everything was strangely calm around you, no sound could be heard. It took you time to understand that the Winchesters and the twins had left the motel room. You accepted the loneliness gratefully. There were too many things running into your mind to let you care for the others. Your whole life was a lie, every decision you made since that awful night had been dictated because of a demon who played you. You sniffled a few times as your breath slowed down, coming back to a normal rate. The last of your tears falling down your already wet face, tears coming from the efforts and the pain as you thought about the time you lost.

Suddenly a warm, big hand came over you, stroking gently your back in a soothing manner. You felt another hand pushing away your hair on one side.

“You alright?” Asked a deep but soft voice. You squeezed your eyes even more, a sad smile lifting your lips up.

After everything, he was still the one taking care of you. Knowing what you now knew, you couldn’t understand why he was here. Between the both of you, he was the one who hurt the most. Even though it wasn’t really you, the fact that his best friend was the one who voiced his deepest fears was still a real thing. And yet, despite everything, here stood next to you, Dean Winchester. Your best friend.

Your former best friend.

It was so easy, knowing the truth, to forgive him. You still felt the pain of the betrayal of course, but how could you be mad at him for not coming that night? Who would have come after such horrible words? You pushed him away gently, giving you room to stand up. You didn’t dare to look at him as you walked toward the sink, to rinse your mouth and wiped your face with cold water.

The silence between you wasn’t as heavy as you thought it would be. Dean gave you the time you needed to compose yourself.

“Here.” He said as you turned around, finally facing him. He handed you a necklace; a silver pendant in a form of a sun surrounded by a pentagram.

You took it, narrowing your eyes at the strange object.

“To prevent demons possessing you.” Dean explained and you fell down that hole again. You thought about all the mean things you told him that day, tears pooling into your eyes once again.

“I’m sor-”

“Don’t.” Dean ordered you quickly, his voice a bit raw.

“I should be the one apologizing. I was the one who let you down.” He said, staring at the ceiling as he avoided your eyes, fists clenched tightly against his sides.

“Dean, no…” You trailed off, unsure of what you could say to make him feel better. Why did he always feel responsible for everything? You understood why he did it, you would have done the same thing. The betrayal he felt that day should have been ten times worse yours.

“We’ve lost so many years.” You murmured as you curled your fingers around one of his fists.

The touch surprised him slightly but he let you do it anyway as he lowered his gaze to see that it was your turn to avoid his eyes.

A soft smile stretched his lips as an unknown feeling warmed his body. Without thinking, Dean wrapped one arm around you, pushing your body against his, your face pressed against his warm chest. Your eyes widened at the unsuspected friendly gesture.

“It’s alright.” Dean murmured against your temple.

You closed your eyes and wrapped both of your arms around his waist, accepting the peace even if it was just for a short moment. His silent promise warming your heart and calming your nerves. You pushed back the scary ideas in the back of your mind and just enjoyed the embrace, one you’d missed for so long even without knowing it. However, deep down you knew. You knew it wouldn’t be alright.

It was already too late.

TAPiML tags: @fandomoverdose666 , @eternaleviee , @slytherinrising , @vicmc624 , @music-is-all-i-need ,

#supernatural fanfiction #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester #female!reader #dean winchester x you #spn fanfic #series #reader insert #TAPiML series

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