#i really had no desire to worry about fundraising and it was going to be such a time suck but you know

[justalittlebluetiefling]

.

Well, I didn't get the coaching job which is really fine in the end because it would have been super stressful. And I never actually wanted to run a program. I mostly applied because I care about the kids and they asked me to. Honestly, the thing I'm the saddest about is that I know how she's going to spin it and they're going to think I'm not involved in the program anymore because my friend isn't the head coach, but it's really because this lady has some weird vendetta against me and I can't just TELL the kids that because she's their coach and I want them to respect their coach.

The Athletic Director did ask me multiple times to talk to her about being her assistant because I guess they had multiple kids go into his office to say how much they want me there but it ultimately came down to the fact that she's been a head coach of a program before.

I don't know. I'm going to be sad for a while. This was 50% of the reason I moved back to this town and I love these kids a lot, but I do not trust this person as far as I could throw them and I'm not interested in pretending that I agree with her for the sake of peace anymore.

[justlemmeadoreyou]

Double The Cravings*

a/n: this was a request by @cicicavill7 (sorry i didn't post the entire ask it was too long 😭😭😭😭😭)

Summary: you're very pregnant, and harry has to go to a fundraiser. you don't feel like eating because of your growing body, feeling insecure but harry's always there to take care of his pretty pregnant girl.

Words: 3.7k

Warnings: smut, fluff. mentions of pregnancy, insecurities. p in v sex, sex while pregnant, creampie, aftercare, kissing.

*

"You look absolutely stunning, darling." 

Harry's warm breath tickled the shell of your ear as his arms wound around your waist from behind. His large hands came to rest reverently on the swell of your pregnant belly, cradling the twins you were carrying. 

You bit your lip, smoothing the silky fabric of your dress down self-consciously. While you didn't doubt Harry's sincerity, it was getting harder to feel confident about your changing body lately. Your cravings had been intense and unrelenting, and you felt like you were gaining more weight than a typical pregnancy.

"You really think so?" you asked, unable to mask the uncertainty in your tone as you examined your reflection again. "I feel like this dress is getting a bit snug..."

Harry's brow furrowed, and he turned you to face him, tilting your chin up with one finger. "Of course I think so. Have you looked at yourself? You're glowing, Y/N. Absolutely radiant carrying our babies."  

He leaned in and nuzzled his nose against yours affectionately. "I've never seen anything more beautiful than you right now, my pregnant little wife."

You felt your cheeks warm at his words, ducking your head bashfully. It was getting more difficult to accept the compliments the further along you got. Your hormones were all over the place and you felt big and awkward rather than the radiant fertility goddess Harry seemed to see.

Sensing your reticence, Harry cupped your face in his large hands, forcing you to meet his intense gaze. "I'm serious. You're so bloody gorgeous, Y/N, especially with this new lush, curvy figure of yours." His eyes burned with sincerity and...something darker as they raked over your body. "Gonna let me show you later just how much I appreciate these new assets?"

Despite your fluttering nerves, you felt desire curl low in your belly at the rumbling promise in his gravelly tone. Harry always had a way of making you feel utterly desirable and worshipped.

"If you insist," you murmured demurely, though you knew he could see the want simmering behind your eyes.

Harry groaned, ducking to capture your lips in a searing kiss. "Cheeky girl. You know I do." He punctuated his words with nibbling bites along your jaw. "Going to cherish every new inch of you, angel."

A fluttering in your stomach prevented you from getting too carried away. You placed a hand over Harry's where they still cradled your bump.

"Alright, alright, down boy," you giggled breathlessly. "We've got somewhere to be, remember? And these two are getting impatient."

Chuckling, Harry pressed one more smoldering kiss to the corner of your mouth before releasing you. "Fair point. Shall we, my pregnant goddess?"

With a wink, he offered his arm which you took with an eye roll and a fond smile. Despite your persisting insecurities, you felt reassured by his doting attention as you exited your bedroom.  

This fancy fundraiser gala had been on your schedule for months, a can't-miss event Harry had been looking forward to all year. You'd been nervous about going, worried people would judge your ever-expanding figure. But Harry had been adamant that you were going to shine like the stunning, fertile vision you were. Now you were just hoping you could make it through without any embarrassing incidents.

Your breath caught as soon as you stepped into the opulent ballroom of the posh venue, immediately feeling underdressed and frumpy next to the glamour of the high society crowd milling about. 

Harry, always in tune with your wavering confidence, leaned over to murmur in your ear. "Try to relax, love. You're the most beautiful woman in the room, and not a single person here holds a candle to you carrying my children."

You flushed at his ardent assurance, trying to calm your nerves as he led you toward the refreshments. Of course, not five minutes after arriving, the doubts began creeping back in. 

All of the hors d'oeuvres being offered were deliciously unhealthy, aromas of rich foods and sharp spices assaulting your sensitive, pregnant senses. Your mouth watered just looking at the arrays of canapes, bruschetta, sliders, and mini quiches laid out enticingly. 

But your hormonal self-consciousness quickly took over. You worried about stuffing your face and exploding right out of this tight dress, about people watching you pile food onto your plate and whispering behind your back. About looking sloppy and out of control.

So despite the intense cravings rumbling in your stomach, you shyly waved off the passing servers offering treats and settled for sipping some water and nibbling on a few breadsticks. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see Harry frowning in concern, his brows drawing together as he watched you avoid most of the appetizers. But he didn't comment, simply squeezing your hand reassuringly and turning to engage in conversation with some donors.

As the evening wore on, your stomach was grumbling so loudly you feared passersby could hear it over the music and mingling voices. Your cravings were getting worse by the minute as you tried desperately to ignore mouthwatering aromas wafting all around. You pressed one palm against your belly, rubbing soothing circles as the babies kicked in protest.

"I know, I know," you whispered, feeling guilty already. You didn't want to deprive your little ones of anything, but the thought of stuffing yourself in front of all these judgemental rich folk had you paralyzed.  

You jumped slightly at the feeling of a large hand settling over yours on your bump.

"Everything okay?" Harry ducked his head close, green eyes full of concern as he searched your face. "You've hardly eaten anything all night. Are you feeling ill?"

You bit your lip, averting your gaze briefly as you weighed whether or not to open up to him. After a beat, you decided there was no sense in hiding it; Harry could always see right through you anyway.

"No, it's not that exactly. It's just..." You sighed, gesturing vaguely around the ballroom. "I feel so out of place here. Like everyone's judging me for how big I've gotten already. If I gorge myself on all the food I want, I'll probably tip right over."

A soft, sad look flashed across Harry's face. "Oh, my sweet girl." He pulled you gently into his arms, stroking a soothing hand down your back. "Is that why you've barely touched your plate tonight? Because you're self-conscious?"

You nodded against his chest, comforted by his solid warmth and the faint whiff of his cologne amidst the richer scents of the food. "I know it's ridiculous. I should be listening to my body's needs, not worrying about stupid societal expectations. But I just...I feel huge already, and my cravings have been so intense this pregnancy. I'm scared if I give in, especially to this rich food, I'll get even bigger and--"

"Y/N." Harry pulled back, cupping your cheeks to force you to meet his suddenly intense gaze, brow furrowed sternly. "You listen to me right now, alright? That's nonsense and I won't hear another word about it."

You swallowed thickly at the fierceness in his expression, heat pooling in your belly at the hint of that commanding "dad" tone you'd come to crave during your pregnancy.

"You are...stunning. Incredible," Harry breathed, his warm hands drifting down to splay reverently over your belly, like it was the most precious thing he'd ever held. "Have you looked at yourself lately? You're absolutely glowing, every inch of you fuller and softer and just...exquisite." 

His voice lowered to that rumbly timbre that could have you melting even at your horniest. "It's been a struggle to keep my hands off you as you fill out, love. Seeing you all lush and fertile like this..." He groaned softly, burning gaze raking over your body. "It's everything to me, and don't you dare deprive yourself or our babies with these silly hang ups."

You were panting softly by this point, squirming under his heated stare and the blunt weight of his words. Your arousal was a thick, heavy thing thrumming through your veins as Harry laid his desires out before you.

Harry's lips quirked in a heated, knowing smirk. He leaned in close, his plush mouth brushing the shell of your ear. "So I'm going to take you around this buffet...and pile both our plates high with anything and everything you've been craving, my insatiable girl."

A shudder rippled through you at the low, gravelly promise in his voice. Harry nipped at your earlobe teasingly before pulling back, satisfaction glinting in those emerald depths as he took in your flushed cheeks and parted lips. He knew exactly how to unravel you.

"Then tonight, after we get home..." Harry's large hand drifted down to palm your lower belly, fingers splaying possessively. "I'm going to worship every new lush inch of you. Indulge my own cravings for this luxurious fertile body of yours."

You bit your lip on a small whimper, already aching for his touch. This man would be the absolute death of you.

Chuckling darkly, Harry slid his hand into yours and began leading you back towards the lavish buffet spread. Your cravings had reached a fever pitch between his heated words and the enticing aromas surrounding you. Hunger and arousal swirled dizzily within your core.

True to his promise, Harry loaded up two plates with every kind of indulgent treat - rich canapes dripping with cheese and pesto, crispy bacon-wrapped prawns, creamy mushroom vol-au-vents, and far too many miniature quiches and savory tarts to count. When you tried to protest the overflowing portions, he merely fixed you with a stern look until you subsided.

Finally, when not another morsel could be crammed on, Harry handed you your precarious tower of food with a soft smile.

"There we are, my perfect girl," he murmured, stroking a knuckle down your flushed cheek. "Now eat up for me, won't you? Gotta keep your strength up for later."

You swallowed thickly, throat suddenly dry under the heated promise in those guileless green eyes. "Yes, Harry."

The next hour or so passed in a lush, sensual haze. You found a quiet corner to tuck yourselves into, allowing you to relax and satiate your fierce cravings under Harry's reverent, watchful gaze.

With each sinful bite, each savory indulgence on your tongue, you felt your nerves melting away, replaced by the most delicious anticipation. Especially when Harry's eyes would hungrily track the movement of your lips around each morsel, his large hands roaming possessively over the swell of your belly and newly full curves.

More than once, his deft fingers slipped a decadent bite past your lips, emerald gaze darkening in blatant lust each time you laved your tongue along the thick pads to clean away any lingering flavor.

By the time your second plate was nearly cleaned, a delicious lassitude had settled over your limbs. You were absolutely stuffed and sated, the fierce edge finally shorn off your hunger. You felt...content. Sexy, even, the way Harry's heated stare roved over your figure.

Sitting back with a small sound of satiation, you let your free hand drift down to caress your rounded belly. You could've sworn you felt the twins doing pleased little flips and kicks within, satisfied by your indulgence. You smiled tenderly, lifting your eyes to find Harry watching you with naked adoration glowing in his gaze.

"Look at you," he murmured reverently, using his thumb to gently wipe away a stray crumb from the corner of your mouth. "Positively radiant and plump, my gorgeous, well-fed queen."

Then, to your utter delight and arousal, he leaned over and pressed a lingering, openmouthed kiss to the swell of your stomach, humming in contentment. "We'll have to ensure we get you home soon...I have some urgent worshiping of my own to take care of."

By the time you finally tumbled through the door of your flat, lips swollen and gasping from the heated make-out session during the Uber ride, you were both achingly worked up.

No sooner had Harry kicked the door shut behind you than he was pressing you into the wall, large hands roaming greedily over your body. The sound of your muffled moan against his mouth only spurred him on, his grip tightening possessively on your hips.

When you finally parted, panting, his eyes were blown wide with sheer animal need. Harry wasted no time in shucking his jacket and tie, practically tearing apart the buttons of his shirt before moving on to divesting you of your clothes.

Your dress was peeled down over your curves and dropped unceremoniously to the floor in Harry's haste. Soon you were bare before him, the crisp air caressing your flushed, overheated skin and the delicious ache between your thighs.

Harry hissed out a breath, strong hands mapping the lush new terrain of your body with unbridled reverence. He swallowed hard enough for you to see his throat work convulsively.

"Fucking perfection," he grated roughly. His palms smoothed over the gentle swell of your belly, fingers splaying in wonder before sliding up to cup the full, sensitive weight of your tender breasts.

A strangled sound escaped your lips as he rolled the pebbled peaks between his fingertips, the jolt of sensation arrowing straight between your legs.

"Look at you, love," Harry crooned, nudging your thighs apart to slide one thick, muscular thigh between them. You cried out softly, canting your hips to ride the delicious friction provided by his leg. "All lush and fertile and utterly exquisite. Made to be lavished and cherished. To be devoured."

His mouth was on yours again, hot and wild and devouring you just as promised. You dimly felt him undoing his trousers, kicking them and his pants aside until he was finally as bare as you.

Then Harry was everywhere His huge hands spanned your back in a heated caress as his mouth mapped every new heavenly curve and swell of your body. His broad shoulders rippled between your splayed thighs, tongue swirling hotly over your peaked nipples until you were mewling. And still he paid reverence to your heavy, aching breasts and rounded belly, pressing fervent, worshipful kisses over every inch.

By the time the slick, insistent pressure of his cock nudged against your dripping entrance, you were already trembling all over, heat coiled impossibly tight in your core.

"Let me properly cherish you, my queen," Harry rumbled, the words a gravelly prayer as he slowly, achingly buried himself to the hilt within your welcoming heat. You both groaned in unison, your walls fluttering maddeningly around his thick length as he stretched and filled you completely.

That first slow drag nearly had you shattering right then and there. Each thick inch of Harry's cock glided along every perfectly swollen, sensitive inch of you as he thrust home, dragging against that sweetest spot inside over and over again.

His large hands cupped your ass, hips rolling in a torturously languid grind, burying himself deeper with every unhurried stroke. He was devouring you from the inside out, cherishing every silken inch, and the utter reverence in his gaze as he drank in your pleasure had you spiraling higher.

When one hand came up to cup the flushed, damp curve of your cheek, the tender intimacy of it nearly undid you.

"I love you," Harry breathed, mouth finding yours in a claiming, soul-deep kiss as his hips picked up their pace, driving into you with reckless abandon now. "All of you, every lush curve. My everything, my goddess, my gorgeous wife. Mine."

You were powerless against the tide of sensation and emotion Harry wrung from you, spiraling higher and quaking apart on a broken cry of his name. Your climax swamped you with blinding pleasure, pulling Harry right over that dizzying edge with you as your convulsive inner walls dragged him under.

He buried his face in the curve of your neck with a soul-deep groan, hips jerking erratically as he poured himself into you. You clung to him as if he was the only thing anchoring you to this world while wave after wave of bliss wracked your joined forms.

By the time the tremors finally began to ebb, you were both slumped bonelessly against the wall, sweaty and utterly spent. Harry shifted just enough to pull you more securely into his arms, face still buried in your neck as you both caught your breath.

Gradually, he began nuzzling soft, reverent kisses along the slope of your shoulder, across your collarbone, up the column of your neck. His large hands stroked soothingly over your back, your sides, cradling you close against his solid warmth.

"My everything," Harry murmured, the words a hushed vow against your overheated skin. "So incredible, so loved."

You hummed softly in contentment, nosing into the damp curls at his temple as you basked in the afterglow. Despite the lingering tremors shooting through your limbs, you felt completely at peace bundled in Harry's embrace.

One of his hands drifted down to settle over the swell of your belly, fingertips tracing idle patterns across the taut skin. "Thank you, darling," he said quietly. "For taking such wonderful care of our littles ones. For giving me this precious gift."

Tilting your head, you met his shining emerald gaze with a tender smile. "As if you need to thank me for that. This—" You placed your hand atop his, cradling the firm roundness. "This is our gift, H. One I'll never stop being grateful for."

Harry's face did that crinkly thing where his eyes squinted with the force of his smile. Leaning in, he brushed his lips sweetly, reverently across yours.

"I love you incredibly, Y/N. Every inch of you, always."

Those words, combined with the sheer depth of adoration in his gaze, had your heart turning over in your chest. You tucked yourself further into his solid frame, relishing his strength and the soothing drag of his fingers over your sated body.

"I love you too," you whispered. "More than anything."

You stayed like that for a long while, trading soft caresses and murmured endearments, until Harry insisted on getting you into a warm bath to relax properly. He drew the water himself while you waited on the plush bed, arranging the tray of sumptuous treats leftover from the gala.

When he emerged wearing only a towel slung low on his hips, you felt your breath catch at the sheer masculine beauty of him. Harry merely quirked an amused brow at your reaction before holding out one large hand.

"Shall we, gorgeous? I'll even feed you those petit fours you've been eyeing, if you'reopen to it."

You took his proffered hand with a giggle, allowing him to lead you to the ensuite bathroom where aromatic oils wafted through the air and the enormous tub awaited. Harry situated you between his legs, your back to his chest, before plucking one of the miniature chocolate cakes from the tray nearby.

He presented the treat before your lips with a soft, "Open up, darling," and you obliged with a smug grin. The rich sweetness melted over your tongue as you accepted each bite Harry slipped past your lips with careful reverence.

Eventually, you drifted off into a light doze, replete and cocooned in Harry's tender embrace. He continued soothing you with quiet praise and gentle caresses, not even bothering to rouse you until the bath water started to cool.

You awoke to Harry murmuring instructions to dry off and slip into some comfy pajamas. He watched you through hooded eyes as you complied, admiring the new softness and curves that pregnancy had gifted you. With a tender smile, he ushered you back toward the bedroom, already turned down and cozy.

As you snuggled beneath the plush duvet, Harry slid in behind you, his chest warm against your back and one large palm splaying over the firm swell of your belly. You sighed in pure contentment, feeling cherished and utterly adored.

"I meant what I said earlier, you know," Harry rumbled, the words a quiet rumble against your nape. His thumb stroked soothing arcs over your stomach. "This new lush, fertile body of yours is utter perfection. I'll never stop worshipping it, worshipping you."

You bit your lip on a pleased smile, arching back against his solid frame. His free hand slid around to cup your breast, and you shivered at the careful, weighted touch.

"Let me take such good care of you both," he murmured, ducking his head to trail kisses along the sensitive curve of your neck as he cradled your heavy breast. "Make sure you stay well-fed in every way, satisfied, comfortable...like the goddesses you are."

With a blissful sigh, you melted fully into Harry's tender embrace. Every word, each featherlight caress was a balm to the lingering worries of your earlier self-consciousness. He adored this pregnancy body - round and soft and beautiful - and you knew he would move heaven and earth to ensure you felt utterly cherished and revered through it all.

Safe and loved in Harry's arms, you allowed your eyes to slip closed once more, reassured that whatever cravings or changes came next, you wouldn't face them alone. You'd meet them together.

*

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[catboymoments]

Different anon here. I understand people being upset and angry, but I was in Ukraine when the war started. My family were lucky enough to get out but so many others weren't, we spent so long worrying, working on humanitarian efforts and such, and we still make sure now to donate to other causes such as Gaza.

But although I myself came away with it with open eyes and a strong desire to help, my brother wasn't the same. He's quite a bit younger and was so deeply traumatised from everything we all saw. He had nightmares for months after, and always acted as if the war could crawl into Germany (where we stayed for over a year before we moved to the US to be with family).

He refused to put his backpack away at school and always kept it in arm's reach, he hoarded snacks under his mattress, he all but shut down at school and resisted learning German but at the same time shied away from other Ukrainian students because he couldn't hear the war stories without a panic. And he insisted on waiting by the mailbox, outside, backpack at the ready waiting for news from his old best friend (which we still haven't really gotten; we hope they made it to another country and just haven't wanted to stay in touch).

When we made it to America, we got him some help thanks to charity and put more into teaching him English and he's starting to recover, making friends at his newest school and finally feeling safe. All this Gaza stuff is not helping though. He's fourteen now and his classmates at high school keep sending him things on Instagram or Discord or text messages about the war with no warning or spoiler tags. Many times my parents have taken his phone away, but he has a couple other friends from Ukraine and Germany he needs to stay in contact with so they can't bear to do it for long. He can't block them either because apparently fourteen year olds take it as an affront on the friendship, and often we are late due to having one car between the four of us to attend different places (my parents and I to our jobs, my brother to school) and by far the easiest way to get that cleared is having him message someone in the same class to tell the teacher in advance if we're stuck in traffic.

Some bots have caught wind and have sent some pretty horrific things, to the point where even a simple fundraiser post (often with rightful messages of desperation) can wind him all the way back.

I understand both perspectives, as someone who survived a war zone and as someone who has seen the many different ways it impacts people. It's trauma, plain and simple. And during these times, especially with the election, people need to engage with the world safely. My brother likes your Owl House content and I make sure to send it to him by message so that that's all he sees, but not everyone has something like that.

Of course, it's up to you. Making this blog safer for Gazans with firsthand trauma is probably going to do more long-term good than sparing others secondhand trauma. I'm just asking you to consider all angles here.

Sorry if I have mixed up everything, English is my third language and I asked my mom to proof it (whose English is a lot stronger as she has a talkative job these days, but is still not her mother tounge).

Oh I didn’t. Think of it from this perspective. Thank you for telling me this, I was wrong and I’m sorry.

[knifedancer]

The Kissing Booth

Marinette's class opts to run a kissing booth for their school fair fundraiser. Unfortunately Chloe drops out at the last minute and Marinette is selected to replace her. She's really uncomfortable with being a 'kisser' at the booth but then something unexpected happens...

Also posted on AO3.

“I don’t know about this, Alya!” Marinette anxiously tugged on the fabric that would be her blindfold for the next hour. It was canary yellow with little bees and flowers embroidered on it. She had handmade one for each participant.

“Come on, girl! You agreed to the kissing booth idea when we were planning what our school fair project would be,” Alya replied.

“But I didn’t plan to participate! This is so humiliating,” the bluenette bit her lip as she mentally panicked. “Why did Chloe have to back out at the last possible minute?”

The other girl shook her head, “Doesn’t matter. Don’t you see? This is your chance! You’ve been in love with Adrien since collège and we’re in lycée now. You’re no longer that short, awkward classmate that tripped over herself in Sunshine’s presence. He’ll kiss you and it’ll be magical. You’ll get married and have three kids and a hamster named—”

“Marinette, it’s your turn at the booth!” Rose’s excited voice called out from the other side of the curtain. The girl in question felt the pit of her stomach drop at the pronouncement, being overtaken by nerves.

“Look, I pulled some strings so you won’t be scheduled for the same hour as Adrien. That way he can come and support you instead of being tied up at the other side of the booth from you. Now get out there!” Alya shoved her from the small prep area they had curtained off and towards the back entry.

Marinette knew the booth set up by heart as she had helped design and build it. It was a long chute with two aisles that led to a set of booths where a male and female student would stand. Both booths were separated by a barrier and an exit curtain would lead the attendees away. Six students in total had signed up to be participants, equally split between sexes, and all had to be eighteen to avoid extra approval paperwork with the school. A few student staff members would stand at the entryway, before the two aisles diverged, to collect the required entry fee. Next to the entry was a bulletin board where the current participants’ photos would be posted. Participants would sit or stand at the booth while blindfolded, kissing whoever approached. They had set the whole thing up to keep things as anonymous as possible so that other students wouldn’t feel pressured to go one way or another, avoiding embarrassment, and keep from any awkwardness happening after in school.

It had been a good plan but Chloe, who had initially volunteered, had decided to flake out at the last possible moment. It left them in a lurch as they needed another female student to take her place and there were very few girls in the class that were eighteen that were willing to fill in: Juleka and Marinette. The Adrienette club, consisting of their various friends from Bustier’s old class, had tapped the designer to do it. She was very uncomfortable with the idea and expressed her desire not to participate – she hadn’t even had her first real kiss yet! No, she didn’t count the ones as Ladybug! – but they were adamant. They had brushed off her concerns without a second thought. It didn’t help when they heaped on the guilt about not being able to reach their fundraising goal for their class trip without their sixth person. Railroaded into accepting, the bluenette had been barely holding back a panic attack ever since.

The Ladyblogger gestured for her to take a seat on the stool and helped her put on the blindfold. “Alright, there you are! Now…I know you’re nervous but don’t worry about it! You’re going to be fine! But, if it helps, I’m your first customer,” with that, Alya gave her a friendly peck on the cheek that caused them both to laugh. “Don’t worry, you got this.” With that, she turned Marinette towards the front of the booth and exited the area, leaving the girl alone.

The young designer sat and wondered who might come to her side of the booth. With her luck, Adrien wouldn’t come at all. Not that she was necessarily hoping for that outcome. She had been waiting for three years for him to notice her, three years to figure out a way to tell him how she felt, three years of helping him with dates or gifts for other girls… Was someone worth waiting for that never noticed you or thought of you as anything more than a friend? She wanted to matter to someone! Marinette had resolved herself to let the silly crush go.  She had grown into herself since making that decision, becoming more confident and outgoing, losing her stutter, as well as finally gaining a little height (170cm). She was finally taller than her maman! Plus the physical exertion she experienced as Ladybug left her with athletic, lean muscles stretched over a pear-shaped frame. She wasn’t as curvy as Alya or Mylene, but she was happy with her more feminine curves. Even with all those changes, Adrien had still not noticed her, so she felt more assured than ever that she made the right choice.

An hour of time can pass in a blink of an eye or feel like a lifetime. For Marinette, it was the latter. After a little while, she found herself still sitting alone. She had propped her elbows up onto the small counter of the booth and rested her head on her hand. The walls themselves were not very thick so she knew Kim, who was sharing other side of the booth for the hour, had received several customers. Satisfied ones at that, if the moans and giggling were any indication.

‘Jeez, Kim… I’d tell you to get a room but you actually have one already…,’ she thought to herself as she blushed from a particularly raunchy noise. ‘Guess I didn’t have anything to worry about, no one really wants to kiss me.’ Tears pricked at her eyes behind the blindfold at that thought. Not that she wanted to be kissed by any random person, especially for her first kiss, but it still wounded her feelings a little. Almost every girl worries that she could be unattractive, Marinette was no exception.

And so, time passed awkwardly accentuated by muffled noises from next door. When it got closer to the end of the hour, Marinette could hear a commotion towards the entryway but could not make out what was being said. She could vaguely hear Alya questioning someone, but the response was lost on the bluenette. She wished she was up there instead, handling angry customers had become second nature to her from all her years working at her parents’ bakery. Anything was better than just sitting here!

Within a few minutes the commotion outside had stopped and she could hear footsteps approaching. “Miss Dupain-Cheng, your hour has finished. It is time for Miss Kubdel’s shift. I have come to retrieve you,” came the familiar voice of Felix. Adrien’s cousin was still the haughty boy he always had been but had mellowed out enough to participate in class fundraisers. Like Marinette, he had also gone through changes over the last three years. While Adrien had the height and strong shoulders, he had taken more after his mother – a lithe form with lean muscles. It turned out for the best, allowing the model to take on more androgynous looks that appealed to Gabriel’s larger audience. Felix had grown to over 180cm, developed broad shoulders and a bulkier muscular structure, and began styling his hair in a shorter version of the Harvard Cut. He still wore the same formal clothes but now had the stature to match his superior attitude. He certainly cut an intimidating figure.

Marinette untied her blindfold, sliding from the booth to join him by the exit curtain. She rubbed her eyes with a stretch, feeling stiff from sitting for so long. “Thanks, Felix. That was a long hour! How did we do on fundraising so far?”

“It appears we made our goal,” he replied blandly.

“Wow, really? Mon Dieu, I guess Kim was really popular!” Felix seemed to stiffen at her statement but did not say anything. “At least whatever we raise from the third shift can be used in our rainy-day fund.”

Felix, ever the gentleman, lifted the curtain aside for her and she nodded her thanks. They politely parted ways – he back to the front to monitor security and money handling practices; Marinette back towards their classroom to grab her wallet so she could enjoy the rest of the fair. Walking among the booths, she selected a one serving a delicious pasta before moving on to the crafts areas. Everyone was so creative and excited!

Her perusal of some bracelets was cut short when someone tugged hard on her elbow. Catching herself from falling over, she looked over to find a very frustrated red head. “Hey Alya, what’s up?”

“Girl, what is going on between you and Felix? Because he made a huge scene earlier at the booth!”

“What scene? There’s nothing going on between us, you know that…,” came Marinette’s puzzled reply.

Alya led her away from the busy booth areas and towards a quieter corner, pulling out her phone and presenting it to her friend. “Here. Watch the video I took during your shift.”

~~~ The Video ~~~

The camera shook as it came into focus on the entryway to the kissing booth. A small crowd of students had gathered near the bulletin to see who was participating and the schedule of kissers for the day. Ivan and Juleka were standing next to the collection box that they would add to as students approached. Suddenly a male student walked back through the entry and angrily huffed as he left, followed by another and another. Some asked for their money back but were otherwise either disappointed or angry looking as they left.

“What the heck is going on…,” came Alya’s disembodied voice as the video began progressing into the entryway. First down Kim’s area, where one could clearly see the jock lip-locked with a guy in a ponytail and red football jersey. Then the camera traveled back up the chute and into the other side.

There, Alya encountered a small crowd of agitated students that were stopped. Pushing through, Felix’s towering form was seen at the front. He had planted himself in the middle of the chute, arms crossed, glaring down anyone that dared to pass him. When one brave boy tried to step around him, Felix appeared to snarl something, too low to be heard by the camera, before the unknown boy paled and backed off. “Any other takers?” Felix asked the crowd calmly, staring them all down. “No? Then please leave.”

“Hey! You can’t stop paying customers… I want a kiss from the hottie in the photo!”

“Yeah, I want a kiss too!”

“I wouldn’t mind more than a kiss, if you know what I mean!”

“Ooooh!”

“Not before I get my turn with her!”

“It’s not like she belongs to you, man!”

Many in the crowd echoed similar sentiments, not noticing the darkening countenance of the tall young man in front of them. Felix uncrossed his arms and advanced, looming over the first student that insinuated getting more than a kiss from Marinette. The crowd’s mutterings had fallen silent, those in the front trembled or shivered from the look on Felix’s face. He seemed to exude a deadly aura, even the light in the room seemed to dim in his proximity.

“Excuse me? Who do you think you are, you sexist guttersnipe? It appears your parents raised you to think of women as merely playthings to be owned or used,” he slowly looked around, making sure to glare into the eyes of all those present. “You all disgust me. The person down this chute is a respectable, hard-working, intelligent young lady that does not deserve your slimy paws or ghastly thoughts directed toward herself. I will not let you proceed. Regardless of gender, none of you are worthy of her time. Leave immediately or…,” his voice seemed to growl with malice, “I’ll make you leave.”

The crowd dispersed back to the front with nothing more than upset mutterings. The recording drew closer to Felix, who had turned to look with mild interest. “What do you think you are doing? We’re trying to run a kissing booth here!”

“I know, Césaire, and I have a booth to protect,” he replied nonchalantly.

“By what, scaring off all our customers?!” Alya questioned angrily.

“Alya, I’m sure there’s a good reason Felix did that,” came Adrien’s soothing voice. He must have either joined in the investigation or split off from the crowd that had been excused.

“Quite right, cousin. Miss Dupain-Cheng was incredibly uncomfortable about the prospect of performing at the booth as a participant today. No one should be forced to do something that they do not want,” Felix remarked as if schooling a student that had asked a dumb question.

“Excuse you? Marinette didn’t have an issue! She would have told me!” came the blogger’s offended cry.

“Yeah, Felix. Besides, it’s not hurting anyone!” Adrien contributed.

The emerald eyes of the boy in front of them flashed and narrowed on them. “Did you even bother to ask Marinette how she felt? Or, knowing you two, bother to listen?” Felix crossed his arms and stood straight again, taking advantage of the additional 5cm he had over Adrien to now loom over the two friends. “Let me take your silence as a no. You didn’t ask, you didn’t listen. You pressured her until she agreed and then forced her to partake in an activity that she did not want to do in the first place.”

“But she…we didn’t think…,” began the other blond, cowering from his cousin. From his stance one could almost imagine a cat with its tail tucked between its legs while in the presence of a larger predator.

“That’s right, you didn’t think, cousin. You’re both no better than the ignoramuses I have been chasing off. You assigned me security for the day and that’s what I’m doing. Her welfare matters more than your ridiculous kissing booth,” he responded coldly.

“And how are we supposed to make up the money that we just lost to refunds? That had to be at least two dozen you chased off!” Alya questioned, clinging to her anger.

Felix clicked his tongue, looking less deadly than before but no less commanding. “Forty-two in total were sent away. If you’re concerned about the money, then I will pay triple for all the kisses Miss Dupain-Cheng was to give today.”

The camera had picked up Alya and Adrien’s choke at the statement but, before they could reply, Felix pointedly looked at his wristwatch. “Seems the hour is up. I will escort Miss Dupain-Cheng out to make sure she is not bothered by any lingering riffraff. I will join you at the front of the booth to settle the payment after.” With that he turned and walked down the chute towards the booth area.

“What the hell was that abou—,” Alya’s voice was cut off with the end of the recording.

~~~ Back to Present ~~

Marinette stood stunned as her friend took back her phone. She had never seen Felix be so protective before! Especially of her! She pressed a hand to her heart as it raced in her chest, hearing the blood pumping loudly in her ears.

“So? Did he say anything to you?” Alya demanded.

“No…he didn’t say anything about that…,” the girl replied slowly. “All he said was that we reached our goal…”

“Damn right we did, because he paid triple the rate for every person he turned away,” her friend exclaimed. Then her face changed to one of concern, “Was what he said true? Were you not comfortable participating as a kisser?”

Marinette winced and looked down, mumbling, “Yeah… I didn’t want to participate but none of you seemed to listen… I’ve been on the verge of a panic attack since yesterday and it was a relief when no one came to kiss me during my shift.”

Alya threw her arms around her and hugged tight, her tone contrite, “I’m so, so sorry! I should have listened to you. Can you forgive me?”

The designer returned the hug with a small smile, “Done. Just don’t push me into these things again, okay?”

They pulled apart with a giggle of agreement, the bespectacled girl grabbed her shoulders and looked curious. “So…Felix really didn’t say anything to you? Did you tell him how uncomfortable you were?”

“No, nothing…,” Marinette replied confusedly, replaying his words from the video in her mind. Her heart began to race again; she needed to talk to him! She glanced down at her phone to check the time, noting that he should be helping with the tear down right now. “Alya, I gotta go. Call me later, yeah?”

With that, she took off running. She summoned every Ladybug reflex she had and dashed through the throngs of people that still drifted between the food and craft stalls. She finally made it back to the booth location and looked around, not seeing the tall blond anywhere. Marinette approached Ivan, “Have you seen Felix?”

“Uh…yeah, I think he was taking the collection box back to the classroom,” he replied. “Good work today, by the way! I heard you were the big money maker!”

Marinette blushed and took off again, heading towards the main building. She slid to a stop at the classroom door and threw it open with a loud bang. Felix looked up from his task with a glare before realizing it was her. “Would you please close the door? I should have locked it while I was counting but didn’t think anyone else would come in here.”

She gingerly closed and locked the door, unsure how to proceed with this conversation. “Felix… Alya told me what happened at the booth earlier.”

The blond stiffened and sat back in his chair; he pinched the bridge of his nose with his free hand. “I see. I’m sorry if I overstepped—”

“No, no, you did the right thing! It’s just...,” Marinette pulled at her fingers as sought out what to say. “How did you know I was uncomfortable? I mean…the rest didn’t seem to notice and…”

As she rambled incoherently, Felix had gotten up and approached the table in front of her. He sat on the edge of the desk and sighed, “I notice everything about you, Marinette.”

Marinette met his eyes with a jolt, staring into them as if trying to figure out her lucky charm. “Why?” was all she could manage, her voice taking on a fragile tone.

“In these three or so years that we’ve attended school together, I’ve grown to respect and admire you.” The blond’s voice dropped to a quiet, humble murmur, “Because you matter to me more than you could ever know.”

Not breaking eye contact, she stepped forward into his personal space. She reached out her right hand and hesitated, watching to make sure he was comfortable with it, before settling it on his left pectoral. She could feel his heartbeat beneath her fingers, pounding the same tempo as her own. His eyes were wide with surprise and she could hear his fingers gripping the edge of the desk so tightly that it creaked in protest.

“…Part of the reason I was so uncomfortable today was because I’ve never been kissed before,” she stated hesitantly. She noted the way the muscles in his chest seemed to tense beneath her hand at the confession. “For a long time, I thought it was just because no one was interested in me...” She saw his brow furrow and lips open as if to refute her statement, but Felix stopped when she applied just a little pressure.

“I think I was actually just waiting for the right person,” her hopeful blue eyes met his stare. She was scared of being rejected but, as soon as she saw how he had reacted in the video, she knew she had to take the chance. Because he had somehow wheedled his way into her heart without her noticing. “Felix, I…”

The boy’s hands released the table and one reached up to gently cup her cheek, as if holding a precious jewel. The other came to rest over her hand on his chest. He gazed into her eyes; she watched as something seemed to melt in their depths. Her left hand came up to cover the one on her face, leaning into it with a small smile. Marinette had never felt so safe and treasured. She could feel his heartbeat pick up slightly. Felix looked down at her lips as he leaned in, stopping just as their noses touched. She knew he would not proceed without her consent. They made exhaled a shared shaky breath, as if under great strain, before she closed the distance for him.

His lips were warm and slightly chapped from being in the sun all day, but she had never felt anything so soft before. His lips moved against her own and she eagerly matched his rhythm. The hand on her cheek traveled down to her lower back and pulled her close, her body fitting perfectly between his thighs and against his broad frame. Her hand, now free, moved to the back of his neck and toyed with the soft short hairs there. They kept the kiss languid and gentle, neither wanting to push too far.

When they finally broke away, their faces had matching ruddy complexions. She gently bumped her nose against his, reveling in their new found intimacy. Felix chuckled and wrapped his arms loosely around her, keeping her against his chest but making sure she didn’t feel trapped. Marinette felt some of her old anxieties creeping in. “Was…was that okay?”

“More than okay, my dear. I admit, I am not versed in the art of kissing either. But, if you so desire, I would be willing to practice with you…,” Felix offered slyly, leaning in to nuzzle her neck. “Perhaps for the rest of our lives?”

Her breathing hitched at the implications of his words. Marinette imagined what a life shared with him would be like, the joy and warmth, the teasing and banter, protected and treasured… She felt an overwhelming sense of rightness at the prospect. She must have been lost in thought for too long because Felix leaned back with a look of concern.

“Marinette, I didn’t mean to make the assumption—” he was cut off by her finger to his lips. She smiled at his expectant but shocked face.

“Less talking, more practice, hot stuff.” Felix broke into a grin then happily pulled her into another kiss. The second of many in their future.

Afterall, he had paid for them…

~~~Author's Note:

"Best investment I ever made." - Felix, on his wedding day.

[qkdlfhwm23]

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

바이로즈 어플 후기 채팅 만남 사이트 앱 리뷰

Q: I was puzzled when I heard that you established an NGO. Was he originally interested in social movements?

A: There was no plan to register an NGO from the beginning. In fact, she didn't like the idea of using a celebrity's name to do something. Whether it's non-profit or commercial. She was extremely reluctant to capture activities with a camera because it was viewed as an event. I started my acting career on the theater stage. My family was also starving, but there was a time when helping others felt like a luxury. The hardened thoughts at that time lasted quite a long time. The same goes for volunteering abroad. I thought, 'There are many people in need in our country, so is it necessary to go overseas to do volunteer work? So I didn't do any official volunteer work at all.

2016.08.16 Interview with Sisa Journal Actually, when I went to volunteer in Indonesia, I had a quarrel with the PD of the broadcasting company. I went to do relief work, but I thought it was like holding an event for making paintings. But he told me, "You built one house with your own hands today, but if you tell the story of this place, the number can increase to 10 or 100." In fact, I heard that many people showed interest in disaster-stricken areas after the airing of a documentary about earthquake damage in Indonesia and Haiti.

Influence seems grandiose, but in fact, it starts with really small things, right? As my work became known, even my fans came to have a good relationship with Raphael's house. From then on, I had a desire to use my influence in a good place. I wanted to do social contribution activities through cultural contents that I can do well.2016.08.16 Chosun Ilbo better future interview However, he said that he was also worried that his activities would be seen as hypocritical actions to create an image. Gilstory is the result of such thoughts. He thought that he could be freed from misunderstandings if he created a 'frame in which Kim Nam-gil participates' in a group's activities, not in the activities of actor Kim Nam-gil. So, in March 2012, he created 'Gilstory', a cultural and artistic social brand, and started full-scale public interest activities.

Since then, Gilstory has developed into a non-profit organization. The trigger was Typhoon Haiyan, which caused great damage to the Philippines in November 2013. A fan in the Philippines sent him a photo of typhoon damage along with a letter asking him to pray for the Philippines. In December of that year, Gilstory started a global crowdfunding project to help victims of the disaster. In just one month, close to 400 supporters from all over the world, including Japan, the United States and Australia, as well as Korea, donated 35 million won.

At the time, Gilstory was not a non-profit organization, but it could have been a legal issue, so everything from donation details to receipts was disclosed on the website, and the entire process of fundraising and execution was thoroughly managed so that it was transparent. Taking this as an opportunity, Kim Nam-gil decided to register Gilstory as a non-profit organization with the organization's transparency and sustainability in mind, and in February 2015, Gilstory became a non-profit private organization affiliated with the Seoul Metropolitan Government.

Currently, Gilstory, as an NGO that claims to contribute to society through culture and art, is engaged in various activities related to culture. I've heard people say "you're not that kind of person". I tell people around me that I'm not nice. You can be selfish in a relationship and hurt someone. It's not that I'm a good person and I want to do good things because I'm a good person, but I'm fulfilling my social responsibility because I want to be a good person. I believe that people can change because I change little by little while doing that kind of work.2019.10.28 《Kim Hyun-jung's Center View》 Episode 1

[pynkhues]

Hey! I’m re-watching GG 4x13 and I’m a sucker for the rio / beth / nick angst. Do you know of any fics that have flirty beth x nick vibes which showcase rios jealousy? Our boy is really wearing his heart on his sleeve at the end of the series and i’m loving it. We were robbed of season 5!!

Hey! He really is and we really were. I still can't believe we're not watching a new season right now.

Tragically, I don't think there's many fics featuring Nick period, let alone ones which play into the angsty love triangle. It's such a shame because I thought the dynamic was really fun, especially given Beth and Nick weren't even into each other and Rio kept revealing his hand over nothing, haha.

But! There are some, and some really great ones too!

(Under a cut so I can include excerpts! 😊)

It’s sudden, the anger that bubbles up and bursts. He came barging in here, upending her plans, throwing her whole evening out of alignment, making her feel all kinds of things she has no business feeling, and for what? To piss off his brother—cousin—whatever?

“I’m not a...a toy,” she bites out, startling him into looking at her. His eyes are dark and unfathomably deep, one eyebrow arched in question. “You don’t get to argue over who gets to play with me.”

He laughs again, but it’s so brittle the sound seems to break apart the moment it meets air.

“That what you think’s happenin’?”

“Isn’t it?”

Shiver for Me by ms_scarlet / @mego42

Nick invites Beth to a fundraising gala to help her network, and they run into Rio. Sexy dancing ensues, and Beth and Rio's history leans heavy over both of them. All of Meg's fics are great, but this one has such a terrific underscore of sexual tension and really leans into Beth's ambition and desire to prove herself. It works on so many levels, and I love it a lot.

-----

And she’s staying in her lane. She’s keeping her head down.

The event with Nick doesn’t really count, right? It’s barely related to Rio at all. She’s being smart and building a new business relationship. She doesn’t have any fancy family members to make all her crimes go away.

She could use a city councilor owing her a favor.

If It Feels Good by @septiembrre

When Nick invites Beth to the gardening program's annual fundraiser, Beth struggles with the implications. This one isn't finished yet (although fingers crossed part two's still coming!), but it's such a great set-up. It's got great Beth POV, flirty Nick, inevitably jealous Rio, and feels full of promise.

-----

“Seriously, Chris. Why’d you bring her here?” Marissa repeats her question.

Rio takes a long swig of his drink. It’s some craft beer that Nick brought over. He had picked it up at a local micro brewery that he’s been goin’ on and on about. Something about some pre-campaign event he’s hosting in their fuckin’ outdoor beer garden.

“It’s nothin’,” he answers flatly.

Marissa throws her head back, and nearly cackles. “It’s not nothing, don’t give me that shit.”

Rio rolls his eyes. There’s no one like family to call you out.

(without) recourse by mydearmoon

Okay, this isn't exactly what you're looking for, but Nick's there, and it involves snarky Rio POV, haha. After Beth leaves Rosa's in 4.06, Rio's interrogated by his family, especially by his cousin, Marissa. This is just really fun, with some delightful dialogue and rich Rio backstory, so it's worth checking out.

-----

“Don’t worry, Elizabeth kept me company while you were out there catching balls,” Nick winks at her. It’s meant as a slight to Rio and football, more than a compliment to her.

Nick’s comments must roll off his shoulders because Rio doesn’t react. He does finally look at her as Nick keeps going.

“You keep running up and down that field for four years and whatdya’ got to show for it, Cam Newton?”

Rio’s face is blank - peaceful, almost. Like he doesn’t hear the fighting words coming out of his cousin’s mouth. Beth frowns and shifts her attention back to Nick.

Watermelon Sugar by zetuslapetus / @querenaxx

A college AU focused on football player Rio, this fic recaptures canon dynamics in the new setting so well. It's fun and sexy and full of charm, and has bonus Ruby x Stan which is v important for me personally.

Those are some that I really love, but I'm sure there are more out there! If anyone reading has any recs for anon, you should add them!😊

[thewheezingwyvern]

For Arcane April, maybe Shinso w/let’s say number 12? I’ve really been loving any Siren!Shinso stuff I can find. Thank you for your writing! It’s a pleasure to read 💕

This took longer than I thought but then again this ended up longer than I thought. I wanted to try and take like an urban fantasy spin on this but go a bit...grittier? idk. This was just where my brain took me so I hope you like it! <3

Gossamer Web

Siren!Shinsou x Thief!Reader (a bit of sexual tension)

Warnings: Brainwashing, Dubcon (kissing) and blackmail

It was just another party, a gathering for some fundraiser or another that he honestly couldn’t even remember anymore. When you held a position like Hitoshi, seated among the rich and influential, a certain degree of public relations was necessary. And doing events for charity in the eyes of the public was just another part of maintaining his image.  While Shinsou couldn’t remember what party he was even throwing anymore, his assistant would inform him later, he did like to think he knew the face of every important figure in the city. And plenty abroad too.

So his surprise was quite palpable when he saw you.

His lifestyle constantly had him around pretty people, coiffed and waxed to perfection, top of the line brands to smooth over any flaws that could possibly be present. Pretty faces to hide pretty fangs and pretty paint to coat their pretty claws before sinking them into someone. However, yours was a very different sort of attractive. Naturally at an event like this your makeup was applied and done so artfully, but it was in such a way that it enhanced what you had rather than attempted to bury whatever perceived flaw could be seen.

Most women attended these events hoping to look like the most beautiful one in the room, while the men sought to look the most powerful. But you moved and spoke and looked with a different purpose. You were searching for something. Indigo eyes slipped down to eye the gossamer threads of your dress, a stunning thing of spun shadow that fit your body like a glove. But it was only more exquisite whenever you moved, showcasing the elaborate enchantment that was woven into the very threads. Stars would wink and burst from your body, along with tufts of purple black clouds. But strung on a simple silver chain was the bespelled glow of a crescent moon. 

HItoshi found himself breaking away from whatever boring conversation he was caught in to approach you, eyes glinting with interest. You were even more stunning up close, showing that you held a natural glow all on your own. With every step closer, the wink of starlight woven into your hair like constellations would catch his eye, beckoning him further to you. Whatever witch had magicked your clothes and hair was very talented and knew what they were doing.

“You look a bit lost.” he said to you after drawing very close to your back, close enough that it pulled a startled squeak past your lips, “Can I help you find something?”

Hitoshi deliberately laid the smooth demeanor on thick, a crooked smirk quirking on his lips. If he wasn’t so good at reading expressions, he might have missed the string of emotions that flitted across your face and in your eyes but he caught them. First surprise followed closely by recognition which melted to a look of worry or fear. And then it was gone beneath the smouldering curve of a coy smile.

“Hmmm and what if I just found it?”

A line he’d heard before but there was something lacking behind the delivery. Shinsou couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there wasn’t enough spice between the lines that gave the tell tale sign of someone looking for a quick fuck. Curious. A charming smirk wormed its way onto his lips, hiding the way his mouth had already began watering at the prospect of finding out more of what you were looking for. Anyone who came here with a purpose usually intended to use something against him. 

“Well I guess that depends,” Hitoshi purred lowly to you, “what was it you were planning to do after you found me?”

This would have been the perfect opportunity for you to make another pass at him. To hint at how you wanted to be pressed against him in the throes of passion or whatever other way that it could be worded. But you completely skipped over that chance. One of your hands drifted up to toy with the luminous crescent moon that hung around your neck, deep and thoughtful eyes assessing him carefully.

“I guess I just wanted to see the man behind the name in person.”

A predatory glint sparked in his eyes, indigos boring into you as he drew impossibly close. Even through the well made fabric of his Armani suit, Hitoshi could feel the warmth of your body. He tilted his dark lavender head, drinking in the sight of you and how you seemed to fidget with him drawing nearer. The CEO decided he was going to make use of a power that he had at his disposal that very few people knew about. 

He tipped your head up to look into his face before purring out, “Tell me your name.”

The magic woven into his very vocal cords twisted around you, bewitching you, until a glaze had fallen over your eyes, pupils swelling beneath the grip of his enthrallment. It was almost unfair how easily he could twist people to his whim with the power of his voice, have them spill their deepest secrets and desires to him. So to hear your mouth and tongue curl delightfully around your real name, it sent a surge of satisfaction.

“A beautiful name, Kitten.” a thumb traced along the curve of your jaw, “What were you really looking for tonight?”

“You keep the Wayfarer’s Orb here, third floor behind a wall of several enchantments and and a summon from the Infernal district,” you recited to him almost dreamily, “I’m going to steal it.”

Hitoshi tilted his head, dark smirk on his lips, “And what else? I know you didn’t risk pissing me off just for that.” he pressed a taunting kiss to your temple before leaning back, “Tell me the story while you walk with me, I want to hear all about it.”

He pulled your body close to his, your side pressed up against his as he led you away with an arm wrapped around your waist possessively. To anyone else, it would just appear as if he had found a new play thing that he was taking off to have some fun with. And in a way that was true. Indigo eyes swept over your delightful body and he couldn’t help but think how satisfying and how it would be to see you a broken little mess under him. A wet tongue snaked out to lick at his lips, arousal spiking in him. You’d look so pretty arching your back, column of your tender throat bared for him to bite as he speared inside of you.

“The orb was just a bonus and a way to cover my true intentions. I’ve already begun uploading valuable intel from your security databases and placed trackers so I can find more information about you and sell it.”

“What a clever little thing…” Hitoshi hummed down at you, fingertip tracing small circles on your hip, “And I’ve no shortage of enemies so you could charge whatever you wanted and they would pay it.” He led you deeper into his mansion, guiding the way up to the wing where he kept the stone you had planned to take, “You looked scared when you saw me...did you know that I’m a Siren?”

“Suspected but wasn’t sure.” 

The dry drone of your voice was so satisfying. It was a song in and of itself, tongue curling around your forced submission to him anything he wanted you to. Hitoshi only stopped guiding you when the both of you reached the room which held the Wayfarer Orb on a pedestal. It was a smooth, polished stone of milky white with flashes of crimson red flecked throughout its surface.  He had acquired it at least a year ago, an ancient stone said to help bring protection to the owner. It seemed necessary given how rapidly he had grown his empire.

“Look at me Kitten.” he yanked you to him, the sweet swell of your breasts pressed against his front, “Would you like it if I kissed you?”

He would be lying if he said that he asked this question with completely innocent intent. The thought of claiming your mouth was tempting but he wanted to know if you had at all been tempted by him in the brief time he spoke with you. Or while you did your research. Hitoshi swept a thumb along your lower lip, parting your mouth for him as you stared blankly at him.

“Yes.”

Shinsou dipped his head and brushed his mouth faintly against yours, murmuring, “When did you start feeling attracted to me?”

“We’ve met before. Enji’s holiday gala. We danced together.”

Now that was interesting. He pulled back, brows shooting up as he looked down at you. Despite how closely he studied your face, the sweep of your cheek bones, the hue of your eyes, he couldn’t remember you at all. Indigo eyes lidded lazily, a stray fingertip dragging along the arch of a brow.

“Why don’t I remember you then?”

“I spiked your drink with a memory potion.”

Shock zinged through him then. It had been proper years since the last time anyone had gotten the jump on him and yet there you were, speaking only honesty for his ears as his voice compels you. Had this encounter never happened, he never would have known. If you could pull a stunt like that then the skills you have were unspeakably valuable and he had every plan to use them. Shinsou chuckled softly before dropping the enthrallment of his voice around you. 

The world came spinning back then, awareness creeping into the edges of your thought as you tried to grasp just where you were. By the time your pupils had refocused, he was crushing his mouth down onto yours. A muffled squeal was his answer along with you pushing at his chest. But the sensuous way his mouth moved against yours had you melting in his arms, soft moans humming in your throat as he kissed you.

When he finally broke the kiss, both of you were panting while you glared daggers up at him.

“What the fuck?!” you ripped yourself free of his grasp, staggering backwards with a hand clutched to your mouth, “What’re you doing?!”

The look of frustration blended heavenly with your flustered expression. Mirth spilled over in his open mouthed smirk. Casually he slipped his hands into his coat pockets, cocking a brow and half lidding his eyes at you. Tilting his head to the side, a soft laugh rumbled in his chest, drinking in your more outraged expression.

“Nothing you don’t want me to do, Kitten.”

“And how do you work that out?”

“You told me yourself.” Hitoshi gestured out towards the vault, hand showing you the glint of the Orb you came to steal, “Along with your goals. Your suspicions proved right.”

“Shit…”

“Now here’s how things are going to go,” he slowly advanced on you, “you’re going to put those skills of yours to work for me.”

You glared at him, “And if I refuse?”

“Well, I use my abilities and have you out yourself to every powerful figure here tonight.” that smirk widened, “You’re that one thief that’s been targeting all the high rollers, aren’t you? I imagine that they would all love to meet you.”

Fear flooded your eyes then, “You...you wou-”

“Wouldn’t I? If you’ve done your homework about me then you know how much of a dangerous man I can be.”

You had done your homework and that was truer than you would like to admit. Hitoshi’s public image was great but if you dug a little deeper, strange disappearances that surrounded him. Brainwashing you and having you out your secret to some of the most influential people of the city who would love to see you punished for your work. It would be the end of you and he knew you would have no choice but to work for him. 

And that was how you, The Firefly, thief of rich assholes extraordinaire, came to work for Shinsou Hitoshi. Through blackmail and the threat of one of the most powerful men in the city ruining you.

[pearl-star]

Two Way Link

When Marinette cracks and gets akumatized, it’s not what she’s expecting. Hawkmoth is equally confused and more worried than she is. Turns out the mindlink is a two way streak, and her earrings make the link even stronger. Needless to say, some secrets got revealed.

Marinette had allowed herself to imagine herself as an akuma before. It was kind of hard not to when their class started bets for if Marinette or Adrien would get akumatized first. It also didn’t help after seeing Chat Noir’s akumazation first hand. If she ever got akumatized, Hawkmoth wouldn’t win. Oh No. The world would be in ruins. So if it wasn’t already an obvious goal, Marinette made it her mission to never even let a butterfly touch her. Of course she’s only human, and when she’s sleep deprived and dealing with a lot of extra stress her emotions run rampant. Not only did she deal with both night and day akumas for the past week, she also had extra work planning the fundraising events and the school trip. Include all her requests from her friends for different things and her regular school work, Marinette was already at her breaking point. Top it off with a couple idiotic stories from Rossi while the girl would slip in comments dissing the bluenette, and you got the recipe for a perfect akuma victim.

Marinette wasn’t even in the right headspace to try to hold off her emotions. She simply nursed her large cup of coffee, that may or may not be the 6th cup of the day, as she stewed in her seat. Why was her class a bunch of idiots? Like Marinette cared for them still, don’t get her wrong, but they hanged off her every word like it was air. Why didn’t they get curious and do a little research of their own? It would have saved everyone the trouble. And Adrien’s dumb high road advice would do more harm than good. He’s worried about Lila getting akumatized? Try the whole class when the truth gets out. Of course, Marientte had almost been akumatized because of Lila. Maybe she should have slipped that into her conversation with Adrien. That might have changed his mind. It didn’t matter much now though. She had just begun to speak normally around him. He might think that Marinette was lying about it to make him see her way, and that wasn’t a risk she was willing to take.

No one even noticed the butterfly coming into the room. It was only noticed when it landed on the coffee cup that Marinette held and the glowing mask appeared on her face. Very quickly, the class turned around and stared at their class rep. Marinette merely blinked a few times before groaning. “Really!? Come on! I was doing so good until now. Okay, you know what, fine. You want to akumatized me? Whatever. Just put the butterfly somewhere other than my coffee. I need that if I’m going to make it through today. You’re to blame for this, by the way. You couldn’t have just stopped with the akumas for the day could you. I mean one a day is bad enough. Why did you have to do two in one day? And at, like, 2am dude? Really?” Hawkmoth was just confused as the rest of her class. Marinette’s face scrunched up before her jaw dropped. “WAIT! GABRIEL AGRESTE!? YOU’RE HAWKMOTH!!?” The class paused before freaking out. Hawkmoth paled. He didn’t even get time to do his monologue before the girl started to speak out at him. As he started to reading deeper into her thoughts, he realized something. “You’re… Ladybug?” He was honestly surprised that this clumsy girl could possibly be Ladybug. Marinette just scowled. “Oh stop. I can feel your judgment from here. It’s a secret identity for a reason. Of course I’ll act differently with magical jewelry. Except, you don’t act too different than you do in real life. Maybe treat your son better, will you? He needs to have a backbone for when Rossi and Cholé drape themselves over him.” Cholé gasped and Lila tried to turn the tale but Marinette continued.

“I’ll give Cholé the benefit of the doubt since she had been childhood friends with him, but what Lila’s doing is bordering of sexual harassment. And you employed her as a model too. Like do you even care about you own son’s mental well-being?” Gabriel made the mistake of thinking about Lila and Marinette’s face shifted from shock to neutral. “Okay, so you made her spy on Adrien and report back to you as well as cause akumas. Got it. And that’s an interesting fact about her willingly getting akuamtized. Too bad my class has become too ignorant to realize that every word she says is nothing more than bull crap.” Hawkmoth, Gabriel, should have tried to rein her in. However when he tried it, magic was interfering. It was something that Nooroo had warned him about once before when he expressed the desire to akumatized Ladybug or Chat Noir. They would naturally have more resistance to him, especially Ladybug since her powers balanced for good and becoming evil would take drastic measures. Before he could try to act, the girl spoke again. “Oh, it’s nice to know that you at least let Nooroo talk. Seriously, I forgot about that whole Sandboy fiasco for a second. You couldn’t have at least allowed Nooroo to enjoy his whatever number cycle in peace. You had to traumatize so many people by creating their nightmares.” No one noticed as Adrien slipped away to transform.

Plagg flew out of his pocket and had the audacity to be laughing. “What is so funny?!” He demanded. Marinette was akumatized! Not only that, but she was Ladybug. Ladybug was akumatized and the akuma won’t be purified. Nor would any of the damage be reversed. Not to mention that his own dad was apparently Hawkmoth. Plagg caught his breath and was able to speak. “I’m sorry, but it’s too funny! This love square you guys had going on was great entertainment already. Top that with what Spots is doing and it’s gold.” Adrien decided to ignore what Plagg was saying for now and transform instead. While he was doing that, Marinette decided to discover something very important: what Gabriel’s motivation was.

Marinette clamped a hand to her mouth as she pulled the memory from his mind. Then that shock turned to hot rage. “ARE YOU KIDDING ME?!?” ALL THIS TIME YOU HAVE KEPT YOUR WIFE IN A GLASS COFFIN IN YOUR FUCKING BASEMENT LAIR?!?” Hawkmoth actually flinched from the raw power and anger she emanated. He made the mistake of recalling the peacock miraculous, setting the girl off on another tangent. “AND YOU’RE ALLOWING NATHALIE TO USE A BROKEN MIRACULOUS?!? Wow! Just, Wow!” Maybe if he detransformed and left now, he wouldn’t have to face the girl’s wrath. Nooroo’s powers allowed them to feel the strength of a person’s emotions. Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s emotions showed that even without powers or a miraculous, she would kill him with her bare hands. If he was told a day before that she would be capable of murder, he would never have believed it. Now though, he was scared.

It was at that time that Chat Noir decided to bust in. He was both shocked and impressed that Marinette was still holding out. Maybe if he destroyed the object now she won’t be transformed. Of course would that negatively effect her somehow? Before he could ponder it longer, the girl in question acted first. “You better meet me in front of your mansion and give me both the butterfly and peacock miraculous. You also better fire Rossi and put a restraining order on her so she can’t touch Adrien again. Otherwise this cup will be replaced with your neck.” Marinette crushed the cup with her hand and the butterfly flew out. Standing up, she called on her transformation before her kwami could protest. She swiped the akuma out from the air and looked around. The whole class was quite. Lila didn’t even try to say anything, and in fact she shrunk under her stare. “Alrighty then. Time to go kitty.” She walked calmly out of the room, ignoring everything that just had happened. Chat paused before following her.

Back in his lair, Gabriel detransformed from shock. Nooroo tried to hide his smirk. Wordlessly, he went back into the main part of his house and approached Natalie. She looked confused. “What’s wrong? I thought you were finally akuamtizing Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Gabriel just shook his head and held his hand out. He was slightly shaking. “Just give me the peacock miraculous. Turns out, she’s a lot more dangerous than expected.” Natalie wanted to question her boss, but he seemed to be in shock. She did as asked and followed him as he walked out the front doors of the mansion. Outside was a smiling Ladybug and a concerned Chat Noir. Ladybug’s smile looked dangerous, like she was giving a warning. When Gabriel willingly handed over both miraculouses, Ladybug laughed. A dangerous sweetness dripping out. “Thank you! Also you better be honest with what you’re wife was doing with the miraculous when the police question you. I’ll see if the damage can be undone without the potential for ending the world. Oh also I will be taking your son away. He deserves better parents and I’m sure that mine will spoil him. Chat you take his assistant, I’ll grab him. It’s time to drop them off.” Chat grabbed Natalie and had her over his shoulder before she could react. Ladybug did the same to Gabriel, ensuring that neither could make a grab for their miraculouses.

A lot of things happened on that day. Hawkmoth and Mayura were announced to be defeated. Gabriel confessed to having Lila work for him both as a spy and as a willing accomplish for Hawkmoth. Adrien’s mom was brought to a hospital and Master Fu repaired the peacock miraculous and reversed the damage done to both her and Natalie. Lila was taken off to serve time in juvie and the two adults went to jail. Adrien was not to blame and was unofficially adopted by Marinette’s parents, which resulted in him spending a lot of time at the bakery. Adrien’s mom and Gabriel both revealed how she was forced into the marriage and forced to use the miraculous against her will. She got a divorce and ensured that Adrien got therapy. He was able to quit modeling and even got a restraining order against Lila just in case. He revealed himself to Marinette after a month and they decided to date. Her class did everything to make it up to the bluenette, but she merely shrugged at their words. She could care less now. They only wanted her to be their friend again because she was Ladybug. She and Chat announced their retirement to Paris two weeks after Hawkmoth’s defeat, although she still got to see Tikki and Plagg. It seemed like getting akumatized was the best thing that had happened to her.

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Okay my Jake fanfic request is one where Jake is soft Jake and in a newish relationship and unlike the other fanfics he wants sex but doesn’t know how to go about initiating it because he is afraid he’s reading signals wrong and doesn’t want to be too direct and Y/N notices his nervous behavior when things are intimate and tries to give him opportunities to initiate it

Tentative

words: 2,4 k

warnings: NSFW, smut

enjoyyy :)

“Oh my god, Jake that was perfect.” You sighed, dropping your fork onto your empty plate.

The dinner your boyfriend had made for you had been one of the best things you had ever eaten, he had even made your favorite chocolate cake for dessert.

“I had no idea you can cook like that.”

Jake just rubbed his neck, clearly happy but also a bit embarrassed about the amount of praise you were giving him. “Well, you said you were having a hard day, so I wanted to do something nice for you.” He murmured, smiling softly at you. You beamed back, you had really hit the jackpot with Jake.

The two of you had met at a fundraiser you attended with some colleagues from the law firm you worked for and had been dating for about a month now. One of the first things you had learned about Jake Tapper was that while he was confident and assertive at his job as an anchor, he could be pretty shy and quiet in private. That didn’t bother you at all though, he was one of the funniest, sweetest and most considerate people you had ever met, and he treated you like a queen.

After dinner you poured yourself a glass of wine and retired to the couch with Jake. You started a movie, but soon you moved closer to him, cuddling against his side and tentatively stroking his leg.

He turned his face away from the tv to look at you. “You are so beautiful, Y/N.” he whispered, and cupped your jaw to press a soft, chaste kiss to your lips. Kissing him still made fireworks go off inside you every time, even after a month. You put an arm around him, pulling him closer to deepen the kiss.

He still was a bit tense, but when you slid your tongue across his bottom lip, he groaned and relaxed against you. As you pressed your body even closer to his, you could feel the hard bulge that was slowly beginning to form in his pants, and it made you clench your legs in arousal.

You hadn’t had sex with Jake yet as both of you had agreed to take things slow, but you definitely wanted him, a lot. Maybe tonight was the right time.

Carefully, your hands wandered to Jakes lower back and pulled the hem of his shirt out of his trousers. As soon as you felt the smooth skin of his back under your fingers, your resolve to take it slow crumbled, and you tried to climb on Jakes lap, desperate to feel his hardness pressed against your core.

But Jake broke the kiss, looking flustered and a bit unsettled.

“I’m sorry, baby, I really need to use the restroom.” He spoke, and before you could reply, he got up and almost fled the room.

+++

As soon as the door of the bathroom closed behind him, Jake pressed his forehead against in and let out a staggered breath, his fists clutched at his side.

Swearing quietly, he readjusted his pants to relieve some of the pressure. Walking away from the situation had been hard, but he needed to stop before he lost control over his actions. You were so perfect, beautiful and pure, and deserved that he waited for the right moment to take it further. The worst thing he could imagine was pressuring you into something you didn’t feel ready for yet.

If he thought about it, you had appeared pretty eager back on the couch, but what if he was just reading the signs wrong and hurt you in the process? He couldn’t stop ragging his brain about it, afraid he could do something wrong. You had been the one suggesting taking things slow, and Jake respected that, because he respected you. He could just hope that he wouldn’t snap and let himself get carried away the next time a situation like that came up.

When he finally felt a bit more collected and controlled again, he splashed some cold water into his face and decided to go back to see you.

+++

Back in the living-room, you were slightly confused and a bit uncertain as well. Hadn’t Jake enjoyed himself? Why had he stormed out of the room like that?

You took a sip of wine and hoped he would come back soon, you were the kind of person to address situations like that heads on, you would just ask him what the problem was.

When Jake made his way back to you, he looked a bit more pulled together again, he had readjusted his shirt and fixed his hair. When he sat back down next to you, he took your hand and started talking.

“Y/N, I’m so sorry if I went too far earlier, and made you feel uncomfortable.” He said, his voice was serious and there was a pleading look in his eyes, like he was really worried.

“Jake, no, everything is fine. You didn’t do anything wrong, I enjoyed what we did very much.” You replied, squeezing his hand to reassure him that you were telling the truth. “I know we agreed to take things slow, but-“

The shrill ring of your cellphone interrupted you, it was your work phone, so you quickly took the call.

“There’s a problem at the firm, trouble with a client, I have to run. I am so sorry, Jake, thank you for the amazing dinner, I’ll call you tomorrow and we can finish our conversation.” You pressed a quick kiss to his mouth and grabbed your stuff before hurrying out of Jakes apartment, leaving the man alone with his thoughts.

+++

You spent the car ride to work going over what had just transpired between you and Jake. He was clearly extremely careful around you, and you appreciated that, there were way too many men who thought they could just take what they wanted without consideration.

But it was evident Jake desired you and wanted more. Was it possible that he was just too shy, or anxious to pressure you? By now, you were aware that could be at bit uptight as well at times, maybe he just needed a nudge in the right direction?

You decided to lay it out for him, dropping some hints so he would see that you were perfectly fine with him taking what he wanted. After all, actions spoke louder than words sometimes.

+++

A week later, you were sure that things were moving in the right direction. You had been dropping subtle hints at every chance you got, casually touching Jake whenever you could, fixing his tie, squeezing his thigh when he was sitting next to you, pressing your body extra close to his when he was kissing you. You just wanted him to feel more comfortable around you, but he was still a bit too hesitant for your liking. You had to up the game.

Friday night, after a hard week of work, the two of you were having dinner at a nice, elegant restaurant. Afterwards, you invited Jake over to your place for a late-night drink, and hopefully more.

“Make yourself comfortable, I’m just going to change into something a bit more casual.” You said, before making your way to your bedroom, leaving the door slightly ajar.

After waiting for a minute, you called out Jakes name.

“Baby, could you please come in here for a second and help me?”

Jake came right away. “What do you need, Y/N?”

You stood in front of your floor length mirror and looked at Jake through the reflection, a small pout in your lips. “Could you unzip me please? I can’t reach all the way back.” You asked, and pointed to the zipper of your dress, all while trying to make your voice sound as innocent as possible.

You saw Jake swallowing visibly before he stepped up behind you. Feeling him so close, you had to fight the urge to just press your backside to his body. No, you told yourself, you had to be patient and do this on his terms.

Carefully, Jake reached out to brush your hair away from your back, and when his fingers slid over the skin of your neck, you could barely stifle a moan, your skin tingling where he had touched you.

Slowly, Jake pulled down the zipper on the back of your dress, revealing your smooth skin and black lace underwear to the cool air of the room.

You observed Jakes reflection, the way his eyes darkened, and his gaze was fixed on the bare skin of your back, wandering further and further down. There was a light flush on his cheeks, he was clearly worked up.

“Thank you so much.” You whispered and let the fabric of your dress fall to the floor, leaving you only in your matching panties and bra.

Jakes face took on an almost pained expression, and he tentatively reached out to let his fingers trail down your spine.

“You are breathtaking, Y/N, absolutely gorgeous.” He murmured, and you sighed and leaned your head back against his shoulder.

“Kiss me, Jake, please.” You whispered and reached out to place his other hand on your hip.

Jake let out a low groan and leaned down to press feather-light kisses against your exposed neck, his thumb softly brushing over your hipbone.

You keened into his touches and felt wetness starting to pool between your legs.

Looking up to meet your eyes in the mirror, Jake spoke out, his voice breathy and a bit stained. “Is that alright? Please tell me when it becomes too much for you.”

“Its not too much, quite the opposite in fact. Please don’t stop.”

“Are you sure?” he asked, and his eyes were so open and warm that your heart gave a little tug in your chest. He was so gentle; you almost couldn’t believe it.

“Absolutely sure.”

It felt like a weight had dropped off Jakes shoulders, his hand on your hip tightened and pulled you back against him, your ass grinding into the bulge in his trousers. The moan he let out was deep and wanton, and your need for him hit you with full force.

Jakes other hand swiftly unclasped your bra, sliding it off your arms to let it join your dress on the floor. Turning around to face Jake, you took his face between your hands and gave him a deep, passionate kiss before beginning to open the buttons of his dress shirt.

“You’re wearing entirely too many clothes, baby.” You murmured, sliding the shirt off his shoulders before brushing your palms over his muscled chest. His skin was warm and soft, and you pressed little open-mouthed kisses to it while you carefully undid his belt-buckle to pull his trousers down.

Jake was panting hard by now, and when you palmed his erection though his boxer shorts, he lost his tight control. Grabbing your hips, he spun you around to push you onto your bed, laying down on top of you.

“Jake, baby, I’m yours. I trust you.” You whispered, looking him deep in the eyes so he could see how serious you were.

Jake kissed you deeply before his hand trailed down your stomach, finding it’s way between your legs. He slowly pulled your lace panties down, throwing them onto the bed before one of his fingers carefully dipped into the wetness between your legs. You threw your head back into the pillows and moaned loudly when he started to softly stroke your clit with his thumb, moving his fingers against your core until you came with a small sob.

Jakes eyes were fixed on you as you came down from your high, his pupils were blown, and his erection was visibly straining against his underwear.

You reached out to lightly tug on the hem of his boxers. “Wow.” you panted. “I definitely need you to get you out of those.”

Hastily, Jake pulled the last article of clothing down his legs, and the sight of his hard cock sent another surge of arousal through you.

“Do you have a condom?” he asked, and you reached over to your nightstand to hand him one.

After he had put it on, you slowly spread your legs, making room for Jake to lie between them. He lined up his cock, and gave you another deep look, almost as if he was asking permission.

“I want you, Jake, please.” You whined, and when he pushed into you and began to move, your whines turned into breathy moans, your breath hitching with every thrust he gave.

His eyes were fixed on your face the whole time, dark and warm, drinking in your pleasured noises and little squirms as you fell apart under him.

“So perfect, baby.” He murmured under his breath “You feel so amazing.”

You cupped his jaw and pulled him into a kiss, softly biting his bottom lip, something he apparently enjoyed as his thrusts were getting slightly harder. You reached out to softly tug on his hair and he groaned, burying his face in the crook of your neck.

Jakes hand sneaked back between your legs to circle your clit, and the combined stimulation made your entire body tingle and burn with pleasure. Every stroke sent a new pulse of arousal through you, and when he softly bit your neck, you lost it.

You chanted Jakes name, clinging onto him as your climax pulsed through you, making you walls flutter and clench around his length.

Jakes grip on you hardened for a moment, he gave one last deep thrust and stayed buried deep inside of you as he found his release.

A moment later, all tension left his body and he collapsed on top of you. You started to softly stroke his back, enjoying bathing in the afterglow while having him so close.

After a while, he carefully pulled out and propped himself up to look at you, a slightly worried expression on his face. You were sincerely hoping he wasn’t still being unsure about this.

“I can hear your thoughts from here, Jake. What is wrong?”

“Are you alright, baby?” he murmured, and you just let out a short laugh.

“Alright? I’m more than alright. “you said, smiling at him to reassure him just how good you were feeling. “That was amazing.”

“I just didn’t want to feel like I expected anything from you.” Jake said, sounding slightly relieved now.

“Stop worrying! You didn’t, baby. But I expect you to do what you just did again, and very soon.”

“I think that can be arranged.”

[heauxplesslydevoted]

Green-Eyed Monster (Ethan x MC)

Summary: During a fundraising event for Edenbrook, Ethan’s jealousy gets the better of him.

Warning: NSFW!! 18+

Author’s Note: I wrote this 3 times. I hope you enjoy

2nd Author’s Note: Ethan is canonically rich. And I like reminding y’all of that fact.

Tags: @fanmantrashcan @ao719 @x-kyne-x @colourmeshy @writinghereandthere @paulfwesley @ramseyandrys @a-i-n-a-a-s-h @perriewinklenerdie @aworldoffandoms @thatcatlady0716 @drakewalker04 @canknot @hatescapsicum @lapisreviewsstuff @akacalliope @senseofduties @badchoicesposts @ethandaddyramsey @the-soot-sprite @chasingrobbie @zodiacsign1 @choices-lurker @miyakokurono @trappedinfandoms @my-heart-beats-for-ya @adrian-motherfucking-raines @riverrune @edith-eggs1 @thatysn @bellcat2010 @theeccentricbibliophile @lion-ess24 @contrerascecile @junehiratas @choices-love-affair @openheart12 @kaavyaethanramsey @caseyvalentineramsey

~v~

The ballroom of the Four Seasons is lit beautifully, the Dom Perignon is flowing freely, and he has some sort of fancy crab cake in his hand, but Ethan couldn’t care less about any of it.

He hates parties. That’s not a secret, everyone knows it and he’s always been vocal about it. The board thought getting all of Boston’s elite hoarded into one room was a sure fire way to get them to open their pockets. And by the looks of it, it is working. But Ethan doesn’t care. He doesn’t care about the pomp, the circumstance, the luxury of this ball, or the money that went into it.

He has eyes one one thing, and one thing only. Or, one woman only. Naomi Valentine.

There aren’t enough words in any of the languages he’s fluent in to describe the way she looks. Her normally curly hair is bone straight, falling right down her back, a few strands tucked behind her ears. He likes it like this, his view of her face unobstructed.

And her dress. Scarlet red, downright sinful, the neckline so deep and plunging, it shouldn’t be legal to wear it in public, the material clinging to her like a second skin.

He’s been quietly observing her all evening, watching as various men - and some women - fawned over her, flirted with her, flaunting their wealth, as if she cared about any of it. The only thing Naomi wants is for these people to write checks and save their place of employment.

She danced with politicians, attorneys, trust fund babies, real estate developers, the works. She’s currently swaying on the dance floor with some guy, though he can she’s not into the dance. The mystery man is talking, but he’s not holding her attention, not in the slightest.

But the mystery man makes a mistake. Ethan watches as his hand slides down her back, landing on the swell of her behind. Not wanting to cause a scene, Naomi simply twists out of his grasp.

Naomi has the situation under control. He sees that clearly, but Ethan doesn’t care. He doesn’t like that someone else is touching her, especially so intimately. Anger swells in the pit of his stomach.

He can’t stop him himself, even though he knows he should. He gets up from his seat at the bar, leaving the tiny crab cake, and marches over to where they’re at.

Wanting to make his presence known, Ethan clears his throat. The action garners Naomi’s attention and she stops dancing.

“Ethan!” She exclaims brightly. “How nice to see you.”

“Rookie,” Ethan greets back, purposely ignoring the man she’s standing next to. “Care to dance?”

“She’s a little busy, pal!” Ethan hears the man talking, his shrill voice a nuisance in Ethan’s ear, but still he pays it no mind.

Naomi is nicer than him though. She smiles at the other gentleman politely. “I’ll save a dance for you, Carl! And you can tell me all about your new yacht.”

That seems to do the trick as the man steps aside and walks off.

Ethan holds out a hand for Naomi, which she eagerly accepts. They begin swaying in time to the music. “You looked like you needed a save. That guy was too handsy.”

“I was managing him just fine, but thank you anyway,” Naomi replies. “He was just so dull. Most of these people are.”

“I’d never know it by looking at you. You have a much better poker face than I do.”

“I grew up around people like this. I know how they operate. Give them a few well-placed compliments, and they’re putty in your hands.”

Ethan doesn’t have a reply for her. He just holds her close, vaguely aware of their surroundings. “Have I mentioned how beautiful you look tonight?”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. Red looks good on you.”

“It happens to be my boyfriend’s favorite color,” Naomi explains, her hand mindlessly stroking the back of Ethan’s tuxedo jacket. “I wanted something to really wow him tonight. Do you think it’s working?”

“Oh you have no idea how well your plan is working, Rookie.”

She pulls back only slightly, looking at Ethan’s face. His blue eyes have grown darker. “I think I have some idea the effect I have on him.”

Three months. It’s been three months since that fateful night at Ethan’s apartment where he kissed her. After that, the doctors decided to see if their mutual attraction towards one another was worth exploring.

And while no one else knows of the relationship, opting to keep it just between them for as long as they could, Naomi and Ethan had never been happier.

“You look so beautiful tonight, and every guy in here is ogling you.”

“Ogling?” Naomi rolls her eyes. Ethan could be so dramatic when he wanted.

“Yes, ogling. I’m not a fan of it.”

“Well, you’re going to absolutely hate what happens later,” Naomi says with a sigh.

“Why, what happens later?”

“The auction.” Naomi swallows hard. “I’m one of the doctors participating in the people auction.”

“What?”

“My friends all volunteered, and they signed me up as well. I couldn’t say no, they all think I’m single and it’d just raise too many questions.”

Ethan frowns. The thought of these rich scumbags fighting over a chance to take his girlfriend out on a date didn’t sit well with him. It was annoying enough not being the only one she danced with throughout the evening.

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Naomi continues. “But they sprung it on me yesterday, and I knew you would be upset. Please don’t be mad at me.”

He sighs. “I’m not mad at you. I just don’t want anyone else getting a chance to wine and dine you.”

“You worried I’m going to leave you for one of these pretentious bores?” Naomi smiles, teasingly. “You know better than anyone that rich and old happens to be my type.”

Ethan’s hand travels down the small of her back, and he feels her shudder under his featherlight touch. “What did I tell you about calling me old, Naomi?”

“I like seeing you jealous,” Naomi continues.

“Is that right? Was that your plan all along, to make me envious of the other people here tonight?”

She shakes her head. “No, it happens to be an unintended outcome of the evening, but I’m happy nonetheless.”

Without warning, Ethan pulls Naomi flush against him. A quiet groan escapes her upon contact with him. She looks around to see if anyone heard anything. Thankfully, everyone else is too wrapped up in their own dancing.

Ethan lowers his head close to her ear, just to make sure no one else is listening. His breath is warm on her neck and he feels her shift her weight from one foot to the other, squirming. “I’m really tired of sharing you.”

“Oh, really?” Ethan can hear the challenge in her tone. “Well, there’s still a few more hours left in the evening. I think you can be a team player until then.”

“But I don’t want to be a team player.” His hand is on her hip, squeezing so fiercely through her dress, Naomi is sure she’s going to bruise. She likes it. “You, in this god forsaken dress, waltzing around here with men that would kill for even 5 minutes alone with you? How ever will I survive?”

“You’re a patient man,” Naomi says. “You’ll manage.”

Ethan spins Naomi away from him, and she twirls back into his arms. The song that’s playing reaches its crescendo, and he can tell it’ll be over soon. “I won’t. I want you all to myself.”

“Yeah?”

“I want you, all alone with me, in our room,” Ethan whispers.

Naomi surprised him earlier, getting them a suite for the evening. She knew that with all the drinking they’d be doing, driving home was going to be impossible. Plus, it’d be a fun little retreat, a romantic night for just the two of them.

“I want you out of this dress,” Ethan continues. “I want you under me, writhing uncontrollably.”

“Ethan…”

“Saying my name, just like that. Or louder, I’m not a picky man.”

Thank God he’s holding her, because her knees are buckling. Liquid heat pools in the pit of her stomach, and she rests her head on Ethan’s shoulder. She pants hard, trying to keep her composure. They’re in a crowded room, full of colleagues and Boston’s most influential residents, and she’s getting dizzy with desire.

“That sounds fun.”

“You think you can make it upstairs in 10 minutes?” Ethan asks. The song ends and he steps back, letting Naomi go. She wobbles slightly, adjusting to standing on her own two feet.

Once she’s steady, Naomi clears her throat and locks eyes with the man in front of her. “I’ll meet you there in 7.”

~v~

Naomi makes it to their suite in 6 minutes, tops. As soon as she saw him swagger out of the ballroom like the smug jackass that he is, she grabbed another champagne flute and quickly downed it, letting the bubbles coat her tongue. Once she’s done with that, she makes her own exit and heads off to meet Ethan.

Their suite is lovely, with a gorgeous view of Boston Common. On any other day, Naomi would be able to appreciate that, but not now. 

She pushes open the double doors to their bedroom, and she finds Ethan. He’s staring out the window thoughtfully, but her entrance gains his attention.

He checks his watch with a smirk. “You got here sooner than I anticipated.”

“What can I say? You were down there making some pretty hefty claims. I had to see if you were really going to put your money where your mouth is.”

“I plan on putting my mouth on a lot of different places, Rookie.” Ethan shrugs off his tuxedo jacket, tossing it onto a nearby chair and he loosens the cuffs of his shirt. Slowly, he walks over to the large king-sized bed and sits casually. Crooking a finger, he summons Naomi over, and she nearly trips over herself in a rush to be near him.

Neither one of them speaks as Ethan silently appraises his girlfriend, figuring out where to start first.

He picks her feet, and he bends down, his fingers reaching her ankle where the shoes are strapped. “How attached are you to these shoes?”

Of all the things he could’ve said, that wasn’t what she was expecting. “W-what?”

“I’m trying to figure out how much care I should exercise with them,” Ethan explains.

“They’re Aquazzura and they cost me $800. If you break the strap or the heel, I can’t be held responsible for whatever harm comes your way.”

“Even if I replace them?”

“Even then.”

“Fair enough.” Ethan carefully unbuckles her heels and she steps out of them. He trails a finger up and down the back of her calf, reveling in the softness of her skin before looking up at her. “Take off your dress.”

“You don’t want to do the honors?”

“Trust me, I do. But if I get my hands on it, I can’t promise that I won’t rip it off of you.”

Naomi’s very tempted to let him do just that, but she reaches around and unzips it herself. It falls to the floor in one fell swoop, and she steps out of it.

The dress didn’t call for a bra, so Ethan is rewarded with an uninterrupted view of her. He sucks in a deep breath at the sight. Naomi in that dress was a vision, but this is her in his favorite form.

He hooks his fingers into the waistband of her thong and he slides it down. She does the rest of the work and impatiently kicks it away.

And now she’s just standing here, stark naked, subject to his piercing gaze while he’s still fully dressed. The obviousness of the power dynamic makes her shift uncomfortably.

Ethan grabs her hips and pulls her forward, so she can straddle his lap. His hands find her face and he cradles it. “You’re so beautiful.” His mouth crashes against hers, not allowing her the chance to reply to the compliment. 

Naomi grabs hold of his shoulders in order to not fly backwards due to sheer force. Ethan set an undeniable tone. Urgent, hot, demanding. His hands keep her in place, locked in the sensual embrace. Not that she’d ever willingly leave his arms, now or ever.

His tongue invades her mouth, clashing with her own and he groans. He can still taste the champagne on her, something light and bubbly. It’s intoxicating.

All too soon, Ethan breaks the kiss, leaving Naomi breathless and buzzing with energy. His hands leave her face and roam freely, exploring.

“I have a challenge for you,” he says, his lips finding the column of her neck.

He sucks on her pulse, and she finds it hard to concentrate. “Huh?”

“I want you to stay quiet. Absolutely no sounds.”

“I thought you wanted me saying your name.”

“You will,” Ethan assures her, and the promise makes her stomach clench. “But right now I want you to be quiet.”

“And if I don’t keep quiet?” Naomi challenges. Ethan cups one of her breasts in the palm of his hand and squeezes, the pad of his thumb circling her nipple.

“Then you don’t get to cum. I go back downstairs and I leave you here like this.”

“You wouldn’t dare.”

With a raised eyebrow, Ethan pulls at her nipple, twisting it between his thumb and index finger. Naomi gasps. “Are you willing to challenge me on that?”

Naomi’s head is fuzzy but she swallows hard. She nods, not willing to test him on this front. “Fine. I’ll be quiet.”

Ethan smiles. “Good.” He kisses her with a renewed energy and his unoccupied hand travels down to her thigh, his nails scraping against the flesh. 

Naomi bucks in his lap. She’s shaking and her fingers are digging into his shoulders. The anticipation of what he’s going to do is killing her and she’s almost afraid to breathe.

His finger slides between her thighs teasingly, and before she gets a chance to respond, Ethan slides a single digit between her folds. It catches her by surprise and she gasps.

Ethan tsks one disapproval. “Silence, Naomi.”

Fuck you, she thinks, but she obeys regardless. Her nails dig deeper into his shoulder blades and she tries her hardest to stay quiet.

He moves at an unnaturally slow pace, not allowing Naomi to settle into a rhythm. Any other time, she’d spur him on. “Harder, deeper, more,” is what she wants to say, but he’s cursed her with silence. Instead she buries her face in the crook of his neck.

Ethan continues his torture, enjoying the view. A hot and bothered Naomi is a sight unrivaled, and he’d keep her like this forever if it was possible. He can feel the tension rolling off of her in waves, all the muscles in her thighs and abdomen tight with the effort it’s taking to keep quiet.

He adds another finger and groans. “Fuck, Rookie. You feel so good. So tight, so wet, and all for me.” 

She needs to breathe. Her lungs are tight, her chest heaving against his, but he has her walking a tightrope right now, and one false move can end it all.

“You’re so beautiful like this,” Ethan continues, the rough pad of his thumb sliding against once, twice, three times. “And you’re all mine. How did I get so lucky?”

Naomi’s skin flushes furiously. He knows she’s has kink for him talking during sex. On their volition her hips rise and fall, rise and fall, trying to keep pace with him. As soon as she does, his fingers slow down, dragging her from the edge of ecstasy, before speeding up again.

He does this repeatedly, the randomness of his movements making her head spin. Every nerve in her body is on fire, and she can feel the pressure building in the pit of her stomach.

So close, so close, don’t stop, plays in her head on a continuous loop as Ethan keeps working against her. The pressure builds, a heat settling in her veins and before she can stop herself a quiet, “Yes,” slips past her lips.

The energy in the room changed instantly. Ethan stills his fingers, then removes them, and Naomi feels the panic bubbling up and she pulls back to look Ethan in the eye.

“Oh, Naomi,” Ethan frowns.

“Don’t stop.”

“You violated the deal, Rookie. You were supposed to be quiet.”

She could cry in this moment, the frustration too much to bear.

“And you were doing so good,” Ethan adds, kissing the side of her head. “You were so close, weren’t you?” He toys with her, his finger sliding up and down her slit, doing nothing more than teasing her entrance.

When she’s back to herself, and not the ridiculous mess of flesh and lust that he’s reduced her to, she’s going to fucking kill him.

A whimper is pulled from her throat when his fingers plunge into her again.

“Come on, Naomi, I’m allowing you to use your words. Tell me how close you are. Let me know how badly you want to cum. You’re right there.”

Naomi really doesn’t not want to give him the satisfaction of begging, stroking his ridiculous ego, but there’s no room for foolish pride when your boyfriend has his hand between your legs.

She moans, broken and terse. Now that she’s finally allowed to talk again, words escape her.

“Please…” is the only speech she’s finally able to muster up. Groundbreaking.

“Please, what? What do you want me to do to you?” His finger thrusts into her again without warning, slow and languid. “Do you want me to do more of this?”

“Yes! Ethan, please dontfuckingstop!” She’s not sure if the words are coherent, but she doesn’t care. She got them out, and that’s what matters.

Ethan smiles, his mission accomplished. “See? That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

The teasing doesn’t register because all Naomi can focus on is the pounding of her pulse, the feeling of his hands, the smell of his cologne. She can feel it building again, the fire deep in her core. She’s so close. So cl–

He stops. Again. This time, he wraps an arm around the small of her back and flips them, Naomi’s back hitting the soft down comforter dramatically.

Now she wants to scream at him. “Ethan, I seriously cannot–”

Ethan doesn’t give her a chance to chastise him because in a flash, he’s dropped to his knees, his hands on her ankles pulling her forward on the bed with an unexpected roughness.

“Be as loud as you want now, Naomi. I think you’ve more than earned it.”

His beard scrapes against her inner thigh, and god, she’s glad she convinced him to keep it. Slowly his tongue darts out, flattening against her folds.

Her hips fly off the bed against her will, arching to meet his mouth. Grabbing a fistful of his hair, Naomi pulls, keeping him in place. “Fuck!”

The expletive works as encouragement and Ethan continues this work, his tongue alternating between expertly lapping at her folds and flicking against her clit. Naomi grips his hair tighter, earring a deep growl from Ethan. The vibration alone is enough to send her flying.

“Please, right there,” Naomi begs. If he kept it up just a little while longer, she’d finally get to taste the release he’s denied her.

His fingers nudge at her entrance again, sliding in with ease, and lips wrap around her swollen nub and he sucks hard, and that’s all it takes.

Her orgasm is something that’s long and drawn out, a culmination of teasing, anticipation and sheer relief. Her entire body goes tense as the sensation holds her in a vice grip, and then finally, she relaxes, falling back onto the bed.

“You okay?”

She can’t tell if Ethan’s genuinely asking or if he’s being cocky. It doesn’t matter either way. “I’m dead. You killed me. RIP Naomi.”

“Yeah?”

Naomi nods. “Yeah.”

“Good. Because we’re just getting started, Valentine.”

Ethan stands up and quickly unbuttons his shirt, letting it slide to the floor next to her dress. Next are his shoes and pants. Any other time, Naomi would be right there with him, on him liking a second skin, helping him get rid of the clothes, but every bone in her body feels like it’s been replaced with Jell-O. She’s content just watching this time around.

He slides his boxer-briefs off, not intentionally putting on a show, but Naomi can’t help but stare. For all the compliments he pays her, Ethan, naked and painfully hard with arousal for her and her alone, is a masterpiece.

In a flash, he’s all over her, his hands interlocking with hers above her head, pressing her into the mattress. Ethan captures her in a heated kiss the moment he enters her, swallowing whatever guttural sound she was going to make.

His thrusts start out slow and measured, but they quickly grow more frenzied as his control over the situation slips. Naomi arches, desperate to meet his pace, but she’s crushed under him, pretty much immobile.

Needing to do something, Naomi swings her thigh over him, the heel of her foot pressing into his lower back. The pressure forces him deeper, something she didn’t think was possible.

Her head snaps back pressing further into the mattress and Ethan takes advantage, his mouth finding purchase on the exposed skin, planting hot, open-mouthed kisses along the column of her neck before sinking his teeth in, biting down hard before soothing the flesh with his tongue.

That’s going to leave a mark, but that’s nothing Naomi can bring herself to care about because the mix of pain and pleasure is heady and all-consuming.

The obnoxious bite is a sign. He wants to claim her, mark his territory. She knows he has a possessive streak, but this is new.7

“Ethan, oh god.”

She can feel him smirking against her, and his thrusts pick up in tempo once more. “Say it again,” he demands, groaning into her skin.

“Ethan,” Naomi repeats, her voice going up an octave. He’s about to make her cum again, she can feel it.

He frees her hands, and while she enjoyed the intimacy of the position, she’s glad to be free. Her hands roam, one gripping the hair at the nape of his neck, the other digging into his shoulder blade. His hands grip her hips, somehow pulling her even closer. 

“How close are you?” Ethan asks, his voice gruff.

“V-very.”

The thrusts become sloppier as they both chase the inevitable release. Soon the only sounds that can be heard are their shallow breaths and their slick skin colliding against each other.

Fire floods Ethan’s veins and he reaches between them, pinching at her bundle of nerves once more. A pleasant growl settles in his chest at the way she clenches around him.

“Let go, Naomi,” Ethan demands. “Right now.”

The command is more than enough to send her over the edge again, her body tensing, toes curling. She comes undone with a silent cry, her nails piercing into the skin of his back.

Her release triggers his own. It doesn’t take much, one more deep thrust and he moans, spilling inside of her, hot and urgent.

He rolls off of her and Naomi inhales deeply, not realizing just how crushing his weight was. Neither one of them says anything for a while, just trying to catch their breath and get their heart rates back down.

“Fuck,” Naomi says, still shaky and breathless. She turns her head and looks at Ethan with a smirk. “I should get you jealous more often.”

~v~

The couple takes their time getting dressed again, not yet ready to go back downstairs. They lazed around in bed for a while before taking the world’s quickest shower and searching for their clothes that are scattered around the suite.

“How long have we been gone?” Naomi asks, sliding on her shoes.

“Too long.”

“I know my friends are wondering where the hell I am.”

“I’m sure you’ll find an excuse.”

 “Of course. I’m nothing if not quick on my feet.” Naomi turns around and sees Ethan readjusting his bow tie in the mirror. She walks over and leans into his side. “Is it bad that I just want to stay up here with you?”

“Don’t tempt me.”

“What if I want to tempt you?”

Ethan groans and drops a kiss onto the side of Naomi’s head. “You little seductress. Don’t you have an auction to be a part of?”

“About that, I wasn’t thinking. If you’re really uncomfortable, I won’t do it.”

Ethan dismisses the statement with a hand wave. “Nonsense. You’re a big girl, I trust you, and if you want to do it, you should. Besides, I have a feeling you’re going to make this hospital a lot of money.”

“Okay.” She spins around and poses dramatically. “How do I look?

“Like you just got thoroughly ravished by your boyfriend. Absolutely perfect.”

Naomi makes it back down to the ballroom by herself. It’s later in the evening, so more people are out on the dance floor, and the drinks are still flowing.

Sienna is the first one to spot her. “There you are! I’ve been looking all over for you. Were you getting any of my texts?”

“Sorry, Si. I haven’t checked my phone all night.”

“Where the heck have you been?” She asks.

Naomi shrugs, noncommittal. “Wandering around mostly. This hotel is huge, I almost got lost.”

“What happened to your hair?”

Naomi touches the crown of her head. While she was getting freshened up, the humidity of the shower made her curls come back, so she decided to throw it in a messy bun.

“I got really warm,” Naomi explains. “It was too much effort to keep it down, and it was making my neck and back hot.”

Sienna seems to believe the excuse because she simply shrugs and nods. “Okay!” She grabs Naomi’s hand and drags her along. “Come one, Dr. Banerji says it’s almost time to start the auction.”

All of the people participating in the people auction line up on stage, as Naveen acts as the emcee.

It wasn’t just people auctioning themselves off for dates. A Celtics player offered up seats in the VIP suite at their arena, restaurants offering certificates to get private dining experiences, Ethan even offered up his box seats at the Citizens Bank Opera House for one evening.

When they got to actually auctioning off dates, Bryce was naturally a hit, with two women bidding back and forth until $1500 was reached.

“And for our next participant of the evening, we have Dr. Naomi Valentine!”

Naomi steps up to the podium next to Naveen and she’s met with polite applause from the audience. She’s never been shy before, but being part of the crowd and looking down on them are two different experiences.

“Let’s start the bidding at $100.”

“$100!”

“$150!”

“$150, do I hear $200?”

“$250!”

“Someone’s eager!” Naveen teases. “How about $275?”

$400!”

“$450!”

This goes on for a while, various men throwing out numbers, vying for Naomi’s hand.

“$2000!” Naomi scans the crowd and sees it's the guy she was dancing with earlier before Ethan cut in Carl Something or Another.

“$2000! $2000 going once, going twice–”

“$15,000!”

The number is so not what Naomi was expecting to hear, she nearly loses her balance. Holy shit, someone wanted to spend that much money? On her?

Murmurs fill the crowd as the guests all turn to one another, gossiping aloud.

“$15,000 going once, going twice, sold!” Naveen scans the audience and chuckles. “Sold to Edenbrooks’ very own Dr. Ethan Ramsey! Step up and come greet your date, son!”

Naomi’s eyes nearly bug out of her head as Ethan saunters onto the stage, a lopsided grin on his face. Naomi can feel the arrogance rolling off of him in waves.

All of the Edenbrook employees in attendance immediately begin talking. Of course there was talk of Ethan and Naomi maybe being a thing, but this confirms it.

“What on earth are you doing?” She asks, looking around. Everyone’s staring at them.

“Bidding.”

“A small down payment on a house?”

“What? I can afford it.” Ethan shrugs. “Besides, you couldn’t have possibly thought I was going to let someone else get this honor.”

Naomi narrows her eyes at him and laughs. “You know, you’re really crazy when you’re acting possessive and jealous.”

“I know.” Ethan steps forward and wraps an arm around Naomi’s waist. “And you love it.”

“I kind of do.”

He kisses her, earning a few whoops and whistles – and one rogue “Get it, Nay!” from Sienna – from the crowd. When he pulls away, the apples of Naomi’s cheeks are a deep red, not used to this level of attention all at once.

“So, now that I’ve proved my point, how about we get out of here? I think I need to take you on a date that’s worth $15,000.”

[bigfan-fanfic]

Who is Batdad closest to outside Wayne manor? Does he have much of a life outside of the Wayne's? Who would Batdad consider his closest friends besides his family?

Honestly, Batdad doesn’t have much of a life outside of the Waynes. He doesn’t really have anyone other than the League to talk to. Clark would probably be his closest friend outside of his family because in a lot of ways they are similar.

Okay, let me talk about this. ( I came back up and decided to answer more concisely above and put this under a read more because it’s very, very long, and I cried three times while writing it and I have never had any visceral reaction to what I write ever before... oof. Just be warned if you ever feel anxiety or pressure that basically, that’s what follows)

Batdad basically denies his own wants and dreams because he wants to help Bruce. What this means is that no matter what Batdad wanted to be before (maybe he and Bruce were dating and he confessed his desire to be a writer and Bruce allowed himself the fantasy and said they’d buy an island somewhere, and Bruce would lounge on the beach and supply Batdad in kisses while he writes the best book ever), by the time Bruce gets back to Gotham from his training, Batdad has had to become what Bruce would have been if Thomas and Martha were there. 

He’s a public figure and philanthropist, carrying the legacies of Martha and Thomas on his shoulders. He has to keep Martha’s business running - no, not just running, thriving - and deal with corrupt officials, corporate espionage, and greedy businesspeople all but threatening him to take Wayne Enterprises public so they can trade stock, all while making sure Thomas’ charities are well-funded and the money is actually going where it should (see earlier greed, corporate and personal). This is all while having to attend galas and functions and fundraisers and events or risk pissing off any one of these people who can turn his life into hell - missing one event can lead to being blacklisted and then that means nobody goes to a charity gala, which means that there’s no hospital built for those in the Narrows.

All this and also consider that everybody in high society sneers at you because the only reason you’re there is because you’re engaged to Bruce and you lived with him ever since Martha and Thomas died. You’re besieged on all sides, because the snobs hate you, the press wonders if you’re even qualified to run a business, and there’s always envy and hatred from below because why aren’t you doing MORE to help them? You haven’t been trained in this - your parents were upper-middle-class at best; you met Bruce by chance, so it’s just you and Alfred and this crushing, all-consuming PRESSURE and the fact that none of it is enough, you aren’t doing enough, it’ll never be enough.

Oh, and at this point, you’re probably only in your mid-twenties at the latest. And it only gets harder because Bruce is back and crime fighting and now you have to worry about him dying on patrol, so every night you’re there to assist him (sleep? don’t know her) and patch him up and support him every day even though he pretends a little too well to be a drunken boor and a cheating asshole (sometimes he isn’t even pretending) and help him when he gets frustrated and then you adopt a kid after your first day off in years (day off, what’s a day off, you haven’t slept enough since you were eighteen and Bruce left you and Batman came back but you haven’t said a word about it) and now there’s school and making sure Dick eats enough and is happy and doing good and doesn’t get overworked on patrol and stressing on whether or not Dick is okay whenever he leaves the Manor and again, none of it is ever enough.

You feel like you’re in your fifties by the time you hit thirty and the Justice League forms and that means SO much more work not just physically but emotionally because Bruce can’t meet anyone new without determining a thousand different ways to kill them if necessary (except for Talia, apparently. And Selina. And Silver Freaking St. Cloud. And Julie Morrison. And any number of dalliances Bruce has had because somehow they’re all smarter. or stronger, or maybe he just has a weakness for tall women who don’t take his crap. Is that what you do? Is your loyalty and consistency and unconditional love actually what lets Bruce walk away so often to a woman’s bed? Is it because he knows you will still be there? Is it because you have put so much of yourself into this life, into your children, into the Wayne Legacy of Perfection and Excellence that it would kill you to leave? Is it because you’re just another tool to him, one that will be quickly replaced when you succumb to sleep-deprivation, or that thing you’ve heard about in the news where people are dying from overwork so often the Japanese have a name for it, or the fact that you’re doing the work of ten, no, twenty people and not once have you ever complained to Bruce or begged him like any reasonable person would to stop this vigilante nonsense and actually LIVE), but now you have to coordinate meetings and a thousand different secret identities and make sure everything’s kosher and nobody’s fighting and of course Bruce has a beef with the nicest freaking guy in the League and Clark keeps coming to you to see if you can help them work it out.

Oh, and then there’s Talia, aka the thorn in your existence and her child who literally has tried to murder you for the crime of being married to Bruce years before he had even heard of Talia, and now on top of all the above, you have to balance getting to know the kid and be reminded day in and day out by him that you aren’t enough, that Talia has such a deeper connection to Bruce, that you are an obstacle to his happiness, that she’s so much smarter and stronger than you, that you are weak and everything you touch becomes weak and tainted by you. And not to mention that you still aren’t doing enough because Gotham’s underprivileged are screaming in pain from everything they deal with and at least you are fed and clothed and you have a family you can support and you are rich and you need to be doing MORE. 

And nobody else in the League can even come close to understanding you because wow, you do so much, do you ever take a break? You come this close to crying when Oliver remarks that if he had to do that much work, he’d go back to the island he was stranded on for five years because he’s joking. For anyone else your life would be a living hell and he’s joking. How do you do so much; do you ever sleep; hah, Bruce, your husband is showing you up! And this is when they even acknowledge you, and you feel like a major-league prick for even thinking these thoughts because Bruce and the League put their lives on the line every day (oh god they’re always in danger and the stress of losing your boys - which has happened to you already - and Bruce and your friends who are the only ones you can ever actually talk to without worrying that you’ll give away someone’s identity) and you’re complaining about a little bit of paperwork? You get to go to parties and meetings while your husband fights to save lives and you’re complaining? How selfish are you? All you do, everything you do, it isn’t enough, it’s never enough, there’s always MORE MORE MORE and it never ever stops.

Jason is dead, Jason comes back, Dick is beaten within an inch of his life, the Joker kidnaps Tim and you are hanging by a thread because the last time the Joker took one of your kids and you couldn’t find them meant that there was an empty bed and too many memories but no time to grieve because Bruce threw himself into work without a care and you needed to do even MORE because you can’t lose him too. And even the League was supposed to help with this but it doesn’t because you can’t bear to lose anyone, because they’re family and not only that, the world has gotten careless because the supers will save them and crime is actually going UP somehow and if even one of the League dies, a city could be overrun by now because the police and government are all but useless and the skies are filled with supervillains and the only thing stopping the world from falling into utter disrepair is the League, and thus you. And through all of this you have to be doing better, have to be doing MORE because every new thing means all the rest of your work becomes that much harder and you haven’t slept properly in a decade now and you feel ancient but still, you can’t complain, you haven’t earned the right to complain because you are never hungry and you never go without and there are so many people who need your help and charities that depend on you to function and kids that need fatherly advice and affection and a League that needs managing and you don’t have time for a breakdown because if you’re gone for too long everything collapses and everyone you love suffers and forget about therapy because who the FUCK could you ever talk to about any of this without either revealing a hundred secret identities and putting everything at risk or sound like a whiny crybaby?

Selina and Talia are back and hovering around your husband again and they flirt with him like you don’t exist and it’s not his fault and you love him but you see Talia every day in Damian’s voice and manner and don’t even think about talking to Bruce about his infidelity because he has so many more important things to worry about and he’s already apologized profusely and anything else makes you feel selfish and you HAVEN’T SLEPT in what feels like all your life and every moment not filled with work is filled with stress about work and worry because every time you don’t see your boys is a moment they can be dead and you don’t know it and every moment Bruce isn’t at the Watchtower is another moment Lex Luthor has to enact some horrifiying plan or the Joker gets ahold of a nuclear weapon or something else unforseeably terrible happens and it is TOO MUCH but you still need to be doing MORE because it isn’t enough and you aren’t enough and nothing is ever enough.

Is there even a you anymore? There used to be a kid there who just wanted to help his friend when he lost his parents. A kid who got left behind to stay with that friend. A teenager with dreams and hopes and wishes and a sweet boyfriend who could maybe get past his grief and lead a good life with you. A young man with the chance to stop his lover from leaving, to stay with him and not give in. Where did he go? Is he still there, underneath the years? Or is he gone, and this being made of stress and fear and feelings of inadequacy and stifled complaints and sadness gone unsaid and trauma left to fester all that you are? That kid you once were gets further and further away with everything you do to help, every time you keep silent  because what good would it do to scream the way you want to, the way you’ve needed to for so many years but never let yourself?

And yes, your boys and your husband make it better, make it worthwhile, but it remains that you feel old, you’ve been tired since you were still 19. Your days are consumed with stress and your nights are filled with fear. And you can never say this now because it has been years, and you’ve lost that chance. The guilt would throw Bruce off his game and if he’s off his game, he could die and all of this would be for nothing. Quite against your will, you’ve been trapped in a no-win situation, and even death is no escape because you know that without you, it all comes crashing down and game over. You are Atlas, holding up the world and knowing that you have just enough strength to hold it up for eternity. And no one will release you from your prison.

But you have to endure it, and smile while you do so because if Bruce ever knew (or if he even cared to look), it’d all go falling down. You are the support, and the support’s support, but no one ever thinks that you might need assistance. What do you have going on? Being a dad? Working? Attending parties? It isn’t enough and you know it isn’t enough and everybody knows that it isn’t enough and they always, always need MORE.

I wonder now how Batdad does it. How he doesn’t break down crying. And part of that is because he is fictional, and I never thought about what it would be like to go through that level of pressure every day of your life. I hope someday Bruce comes to his senses. That even if he doesn’t let go of his grief, maybe he stops being Batman. And stops training Robins. Because yes, he gave them a home, but he manipulated them into being what he is. Who knows what good Dick could have done if he had just been Bruce’s adopted son. Maybe a philanthropist. Maybe he just would’ve had a happy life instead of one where he could die every day. Where he constantly has to reopen the wound of his parents’ deaths to convince him to keep at it. I want them to realize that they don’t have to, anymore.

But they won’t. Because they aren’t real. And they exist for our entertainment. And because we’ll keep reading the comics and watching the movies and playing the games, Bruce will always be Batman and never come to terms with his parents’ deaths in a healthy way and there will always be more threats to existence and even just to him personally.

And Batdad too, is trapped.

[well-lets-go-write]

A grand ol’ time

Part 1 

Rated: SFW - language 

Word count:  4061 

Hope ya enjoy. 

(Y/N) an SOA for the BSAA has recently returned home from a grueling extensive mission in the jungles of South America. The mission was routine and went smoothly with no casualties, something rare for the BSAA. Her partner and long time friend Joseph were stuck in the office going over each individual report from the mission and compiling them for the derector, the night dragged on late into the early hours of the morning. Both Y/n and Joseph had called it a night when the motion sensitive lights flickered off for the umpteenth time, reminding them of the late hours and lack of people. Joseph left first after some convincing, tiredly trudging out to the elevator. Y/n let a long almost roaring yawn roll out with a large stretch before standing from her desk. Grabbing up the loose paperwork and scattered files, neatly stacking them together and tucking them under her arm Y/n turns on her heel and swiftly grabs up her overly large ‘purse’ before heading for the elevator at the end of the corridor. 

       Y/n had decided to head not to her apartment downtown, almost an hour drive away, but to the small spare apartment at the top floor of the BASS headquarters. There only to remind Y/n that she, like many others, is permanently married to her work. During the slow elevator ride up Y/n pondered giving up her apartment for living here, it would make things easier on her when she does get off time, but she quickly reminded herself of why she stopped using the spare apartment, her mind wandering back to him. Violently she shook her head of the thoughts, forcing them back for another time. Luckily the elevator came to a stop snapping Y/n of her self induced trance. The hall was dimly lit with small light fixtures mounted in between the other apartment doors. Y/n sighed again, the sight an all too familiar one, a reminder of better times from years past, but now a reminder of her endless loneliness. 

Huffing in tired frustration Y/n made her way down the hall to the welcoming red door to her apartment. Rifling through her purse Y/n found her large obnoxious key ring, noting the amount had become ridiculous. It took her a good minute to locate the correct key for the door and deadbolt, a small gold key with the number 86 engraved into the grip, she examined it for a moment, running her calloused thumb over the number a few times, fondly remembering the day she got it, her eyes drifting to the matching key still hanging on the ring, a slightly larger key, silver with the letters C.R engraved into the metal. Another sigh forces its way out at the sight of it in her hand, knowing it shouldn’t be with her. A low growl leaves Y/n lips as she roughly jams the key into the locks and throws the door open, the force sending it into the wall with a slam. Y/n didn’t flinch as the sound echoed through the small apartment and out into the hall, instead welcoming the intrusive noise, welcoming anything really. With her foot she clumsily kicks her leg to close the door with another loud slam, almost falling to the floor in the same instant. Catching herself at the last moment on her brown leather recliner, doubling over the back into the seat of the cushion face first, her legs swinging over from the momentum flipping her out of the chair onto the floor. 

“Yep.” Y/n commented aloud to herself with an extra popping of the ‘p’ before standing back up in front of her recliner. Y/n threw her purse onto the small loveseat across from her and the files down on the oak coffee table. The small sounds of her moving about her apartment filled the area with almost obnoxious echoes, the silence that clung to her was deafening, irritating her to her core. Y/n shook her head of the thought and moved to her bedroom, pulling out years old pajamas she’d forgotten she owned and headed for the adjoining bathroom.

The hot steaming water washed away her worries and frustrations, Y/n was finally able to let her muscles relax and sink into the water. She didn’t linger in the bath however, opting to get into bed as fast as she could. Lying there for hours staring up at the cracking popcorn ceiling, the desire to sleep gripped her mind, but the pent up energy was reaching its peak, now forcing her to stay awake. There in the dark of her bedroom, in the middle of the night she hears the smallest kock on her front door, a peculiar time for visitors was her first thought. If it had been any kind of adversary they wouldn’t have been so kind as to knock first. 

Tired and sluggish Y/n stumble to the door, nearly tripping over the corner of the coffee table on her way. But outside the door was no one and nothing, nothing except a small green envelope with fancy raised gold letter reading her name. Stranger yet there was no evidence other than the envelope that anyone had been in the hall. Peaking out of the door she saw that there were no other envelopes left and the elevator was shut, along with the single door to the stairway. Locking every lock on the door Y/n flops down onto the obnoxiously large loveseat and examines the letter thoroughly before reading it. But there was nothing too strange about it. The letter read simply, 

Dear Y/n,

You have been invited to the masquerade ball of the century. Please do join us for a night of anonymous celebration. 

Rules. You must wear the colors given. No taking your mask off. Attendance is required. 

We do hope you have fun. Please be prepared the night of June 25th.  

Y/n initially paid no mind to the letter, believing it was nothing more than another prank. But her suspicions were quickly swayed by Joseph the next afternoon. 

-------

Outside the cafeteria Y/n walked alongside Joseph down the many halls to their shared office. Y/n explaining the previous night's events, but her partner was quiet the whole way, this fact confused and frustrated her. “Why aren't you saying anything?” Frustrated, she roughly pulls the envelope and letter from her bag, the small parchment becoming even more folded and scrunched up in Y/n fist. “I have proof see.” Y/n barely got the sentence out before Joseph grabbed her wrists and the letter and pulled them into their office, Joseph gesturing to be quiet the whole time. 

Nearly slamming the door shut Joseph throws his things onto his desk before retrieving an identical envelope and letter from inside his briefcase. The only difference was the name and color of the envelope, Joseph’s was an off navy blue with silver lettering. Y/n examined the letter the same as she did hers, and it was identical. 

“What the fuck dose it mean ‘attendance is required’? Under the authority of who?” Y/n questioned. Her annoyance at the situation was growing. Joseph sat beside Y/n on the small office couch, a look of contemplation and pleading overtook him. 

“Look it’s a weird thing the financial backers like to put on every few years, it’s mandatory that the invited SOA’s, Captines, and their lieutenants attend.” Joseph paused to survey the room a moment then whisper, “Technically we’re not supposed to be sharing this information.” The severity of the situation finally dawned on Y/n. She could only nod in response. 

“What’s with the whole color thing?” She whispered out, her face contorted in confusion. Joseph looked over Y/n’s envelope. 

“Easy, green and gold. Go with a green dress, the mask they provide will probably be gold.” Joseph explained while gesturing to his own envelope, "I'll be in some kind of blue and silver." Y/n though frustrated understood, but was more annoyed that from this point on they couldn't talk about it, the 25th nearing in only two days. 

----------

Y/n during the evening had slipped out of the BSAA's perimeter and into the city. At first she was shocked by the changes the metropolis had undergone. Y/n was lost in the world of light. But eventually she found a small clothing store with beautiful red, black,and pink dresses on display that pulled her in. Y/n found a simple yet elegant emerald green dress with an evenest green lace wrapped deletitly around the bodice, the skirt was long loose and wavy. A simple guarantee she'd be able to move freely. Y/n stored the dress in a long black clothing bag before rushing back to the BSAA. She tried it on only once, and in spite of how she felt about this event, she felt pretty. 

---------

When the night arrived Y/n felt nervous. Of what, she wasn’t sure, she knew she could always find Joseph, but it was something else, in her youth Y/n had never really participated in the norms of teens, so this is new territory. As she sat on the loveseat in her small apartment waiting for some mysterious weirdos to escort her to the ‘fundraiser’ she all but wished to be suddenly thrown into the middle of a war zone. But here she sat, dolled up to the best of her abilities and dressed to the nines waiting. Another surprise were the men who picked her up, dressed in well tailored tuxedos and full face covering white mouthless masks. Before she took a signal step out the door they handed her a beautiful white mask with gold trim and white gold jewels. Y/n got the hint and secured the mask before they left for the secret hall. The windows of the van they rode in were blacked out, and she was the only other in the vehicle with them. If she had not been reassured this was the norm, things would have gone very differently. 

25 minutes later they had arrived at an underground parking garage, from there she was led to an elevator, a short ride later and Y/n was standing before a grand ballroom suited for royalty. The hall itself was at least four stories high, pillars supporting the ceiling were lined with lavish gold, chandeliers hanging to match the beauty of polished white marble and glittering gold. It was stunning. The hall was filled with attendees, beautiful dresses swaying together on the dance floor, groups of men huddling together in the far corners while the younger agents enjoyed the event with glasses in hand. The festivities were in full swing and Y/n had never felt more out of place, everything about this atmosphere was forigne to her. Hesitantly Y/n moved over to one of the pillars and watched on in awe at the pure, anonymous joy the countless others were partaking in. Many paired off couples were dancing rymithly to the somewhat dated music. Y/n was in a way envyus of their uncaring amusement. Finally able to gather her thoughts Y/n began to search the clumps of groups for Joseph.

But so far there was no sign of him, blue or silver were the only two words running through Y/n mind. When out of the corner of her eye the smallest reflection, a glint of chrome shining in the light caught her eye. To her left stood a broad shouldered man, tall weaning a navy blue suit, a dark metallic gray tie and an almost mirroring shining silver mask with a deep velvet blue trim. Y/n wasn’t positive if he was in fact Joseph, but all the identifiers they had discussed lined up with the man before her. Who was now eyeing Y/n with a matching smirk. 

“Something wrong with my suit?” He asked Y/n while also successfully gaining her attention. Y/n couldn’t pinpoint his voice, but she was oddly calmed by it. 

A bit flustered Y/n rushed out, “No. Not at all, y-you look good is what I mean.” If it wasn’t obvious before that Y/n was out of practice in social gatherings, it was now. The gentleman laughed a warm low laugh, his covered face lighting up, a smile growing over his lips. 

“Thank you.” The man in blue stated first. “You look pretty good too.” He commented seconds after, sliding the flirtatious compliment in smoothly. Y/n thought her knees were going to buckle at the man's pleasant remark. She was able to stable herself on a small champagne table, but she overestimated her own weight and fell forward into the man's arms. Who gladly caught her, wrapping an arm around her waist and the other stabilizing her by the shoulder. "Fallin` for me already?" The man in blue asked coolie. Y/n was now a flustered mess, all the while still held securely in the looming man's arms. 

She all but jumped from the man's hold, wiggling away, but not far. "Sorry about that, lost my footing there." She rushed out in a signal breath. Y/n was now searching for another distraction from this situation, but for some unknown reason she didn't want to leave this man in blue's side, she enjoyed talking to him. In spite of herself  she commented, "Ya know this sorta thing ain't really my scene but I do see why some people would enjoy it." Y/n admitted, almost immediately regretting it.

But the man’s welcoming warm smile never faltered. “I’m right there with ya, especially with dancing.” He then admitted. The man scrunched up his nose causing the mask to shift up ever so slightly before awkwardly chuckling out, “But- uh, what is your scene then?” The question was innocent, but now it was his turn to be tongue tied. Y/n was at a loss for words, forgetting what she even did during her rare off time.

"Oh nothing special, I enjoy astronomy, especially violet stars and exoplanets. Actually they've made a recent discovery of an extraordinary exoplanet, it's very angelic in appearance." Y/n was now on a rumbling spree, space and the stars captured her soul years ago, and something about this man in blue caused her to feel so carefree, able to speak her mind, to imagine. "I sometimes dream of seeing them for myself." She commented finally. 

The man in blue couldn't and didn't take his eyes off of her, even with her face hidden behind the doll-like mask he could see the passion and joy light up her whole being. In that small moment he could see her, smiling staring up into space, seeing things he could never imagine. But for him her eyes held the universe. Turning abruptly the man grabbed up two glasses of champagne, handing one to Y/n and sipping off the other. Y/n was apprehensive but gladly drank the single glass of champagne. Feeling the tension slowly dissipate, Y/n loosened up enough to keep her anxieties at bay. But the silver masked man interjected  "I know someone else who also loves space. She used to tell me all about the celestial bodies." The man spoke fondly of this person, his eyes lighting up with a far off passionate memory.

"What happened to her?" Y/n asked assuming this woman was or had been lost during a past mission. But the man dispelled the thought with a wave of his hand.

"Nothing tragic." He paused, becoming lost in another memory, "I fucked up any relationship I might’ve had with her." He explained simply. 

Y/n understood. simple mistakes imploding years old relationships. Hesitantly she placed a hand on the man's shoulder, "People are far more forgiving then you're letting yourself believe." He smiled at the thought.

"Sounds like something she would have said, but the thing is, I agree with her." The man paused and a far off lock overcame him, "I don't deserve to be forgiven" His demeanor changed, becoming curt about the topic. Suddenly becoming solum and detached. But Y/n wasn't accepting that. Grabbing his hand with her own, pulling him down to eye level.

"I won't accept that, everyone deserves another chance." Y/n spoke proudly, but her confidence was swayed when the man suddenly pulled back, but a ghost of a smile played on his lips.

Another strange look overcame him, a look of sudden realization and understanding. "You sound a lot like her. But you wouldn't be saying this if you knew what I did." He explained in a sudden but painad manner.

"What did you do?" Y/n asked, her body language and tone now matching his. The man turned away for a moment contemplating what to say.

"I left them when they needed me most, I ran to the arms of another woman in the guise of being in love, when in reality I was scared to fall for her and in the end I hurt her and a once close friend of mine. She hasn't spoken to me since." The man in blue explained woefully, his mind and heart burdened by this. Y/n clearly saw this, but she stood firm in her opinion.

Returning her hand to his shoulder a gesture of reassurance, "If it makes you feel any better I'm sorta in the same boat." Y/n was hesitant to share, but she wanted clouser all the same.

"How do ya mean?" He questioned in return. Y/n cupped both of her hands together over her chest, a clear sign that she was apprehensive, but following a long sigh she explained.

"Well I sorta have this odd rivalry with another agent, and at some point we became friends," Y/n paused to inhale a shaky breath, "Then I fell in love with him." To Y/n the sentence couldn't be voiced fast enough, the shaky breath coming out rushed, a heavy weight resting on Y/n's heart. “When I finally worked up the courage to tell him, he fell in love with someone else." Now it felt as if it was taking all of her strength not to cry. The man in blue could feel this and in the softest voice he could muster reassured her.

“He’ll come around, they always do.” Pausing the man pulled away to blatantly look Y/n over, “And if not, I’d say there's lots of people who want you.” The smallest bit of pink was dusting the man’s cheeks, but his confidence roars more than his words, the thought causing Y/n to blush furiously. But before Y/n could mutter a replay of objection he cut in another surprise. “Would you like to dance?” 

This nearly floored Y/n, “Didn’t you say, ‘you don’t dance’?” She then questioned immediately after. With another wavy of his hand he dispelled the idea. 

“Yes, but I want to dance with you, isn’t that worth the exception?” He remarked cooly. Flustered Y/n accepted his hand as he began to lead them to the dance floor. 

But Y/n interjected, “Do you even know how to dance?” The question came off with far more nervous energy then she would have preferred. But as if on cue when the man in blue pulled Y/n flush to his chest a personal favorite song came on. 

I am not the only traveler

Who has not repaid his debt

I've been searching for a trail to follow again

Take me back to the night we met   

It had been well over a year since she heard this song last, and it was with him. Just the two of them lost in the colors of the setting sun atop the roof of the BSAA headquarters, then and there when they held each other close and swayed to the music encaptivating them. The last night she spoke to him, the last time she lingered in the feelings of love and happiness. 

Now she stands here with another, slowly swaying to the same music, her mind losing itself to the once pleasant memory. But the man in blue pulled her back to the here and now by twirling her out around then back in, now with her back flush against his front. 

And then I can tell myself

What the hell I'm supposed to do

And then I can tell myself

Not to ride along with you

The hot breath kissing the back of her neck, the man in blue was quietly singing along, singing just for Y/n. At first she believed she was imagining his voice, imagining she was back in that moment again. The silver masked man spun her back out, but then pulled her close, now mask to mask he was singing to her all the while staring into her deep e/c eyes. 

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Oh, take me back to the night we met

Tears threatened to fall from Y/n eyes, this just couldn’t be real. And yet there she was dancing with the man in blue, spinning and swaying to a rhythm only her and another soul could know. 

When the night was full of terrors

Gently, as they moved with the music, becoming lost to the world around them, the man in blue raised his hand to softly cup Y/n cheek. 

And your eyes were filled with tears

Without lifting the mask he swiped his thumb over her teary cheek before gently gliding down her face and neck, resting atop her shoulder. Still the two move as one, dancing in a round all over the ballroom, earning gawking expressions and looks of awe from other women. 

  When you had not touched me yet

 Oh, take me back to the night we met

Softly he grabbed her hand and moved it to rest above his heart, his voice growing louder as he sang on to her. 

I had all and then most of you

Some and now none of you

Take me back to the night we met

I don't know what I'm supposed to do

Haunted by the ghost of you

Take me back to the night we met  

  Y/n couldn’t form words, she couldn’t only follow his lead and time, but when the song came to an end she was dipped briefly and suddenly before being pulled eye to eye again. Deep chocolate eyes stared into her, eyes she’d never forget. 

“Chris.”

(End of part 1)

[thekillerssluts]

My Relationship to Performance Has Changed

A great rock-and-roll show means openness, confrontation, and a kind of danger, and those ideas right now feel too heavy to lift.

Last October, before the second pandemic wave took off in New York City, I had one last band practice in my backyard in South Brooklyn. Five of us were working on songs from my new solo record. Normally we’d play in the basement, but it’s pretty low-ceilinged, and we’d read Zeynep Tufekci’s recent Atlantic article on viral spread, so we were all hyper-focused on air circulation. My bandmate Sara had contracted COVID-19—and recovered—in March, but the rest of us had no immunity. Besides, we suspected that we were in for a long winter and might as well hang out outdoors.

It was warm in the sun. After hauling the drums, keyboards, keyboard stands, guitars, and amps outside and plugging everything in, I hadn’t wanted to bother setting up microphones, so we had to play softly to hear ourselves harmonize. When we paused for lunch, someone leaned out of a fourth-story window in the apartment building next door and yelled: “Are you done or are you just taking a break? I have things to do, but I really miss live music!” “Me too, man!” I called back. “Should be just a break.”

Six months and a difficult winter later, the break is ending. I’m seeing more and more Instagram posts for shows that aren’t just wishful thinking. Low-capacity indoor shows are popping up in New York. Outdoor—maybe even full-capacity indoor—concerts are coming this summer. Am I ready to play? Ask me every other day and the answer changes. I’m torn. I’m desperate for sound engineers to get back behind the board and bartenders to start earning tips. I want venues to thrive again, both as places for art in neighborhoods and for the sake of the network that keeps music culture alive in America. I want my booking agent to feel excited again; he loves music so much. And I want musicians to make a living. So many people have been so screwed by the past year. I guess I just want everyone to get paid.

But the actual performance; the rebuilding of the sonic cathedral, as Dave Grohl wrote last spring; communally reaching for rock-and-roll transcendance? I’m not there yet. I’m not concerned that I’ll get sick. I received my second vaccine shot at the end of March and am ready to high-five strangers on the subway. My hesitance has an element of crowd-shyness, which we’ll all get over. But in my own performance, I don’t know how to meet this moment. A great rock-and-roll show means openness, confrontation, and a kind of danger, and those ideas right now feel too heavy to lift.

I used to think of performance in purely aesthetic terms. In the movie La Strada, a clown wearing angel wings does a high-wire act across a crowded piazza. For his finale, he brings out a table on the wire and, while balancing, tries to sit and eat a full plate of spaghetti. The heroine of the movie watches him with an almost religious ecstasy. When I first started performing, I strove for transcendence and stupidity, high concept and low art. My focus was on keeping myself in the air.

When my band Arcade Fire was playing mostly to people who hadn’t heard us before, we felt that the best way to get them to open up was to blow the windows and doors out. At an early show in Lawrence, Kansas, my brother, Win, bashed Styrofoam tiles out of the venue’s ceiling with his mic stand. We pushed as hard for an audience of six people (two of them my parents) upstairs at AS220 in Providence, Rhode Island, as we did in front of tens of thousands in the desert at our first Coachella show (during which I accidentally cut Win’s guitar cable in half by repeatedly smashing a cymbal into the ground).

At a certain point, as people got to know our music, my relationship to performance changed. The energy from the crowd was greater than anything coming from the giant speaker stacks. The audience wasn’t a challenge to overcome, or an opponent to conquer. We became a team. Not in an abstract, lovey way but how a sports team operates—pushing one another to do better, sometimes failing, sometimes frustrating one another, sometimes just joking around.The high-wire act of live performance—Will the music come together?—was still there. I’ve even sometimes tried to make the metaphor real, climbing arena scaffolding with a drumstick in my teeth and a drum strapped over my shoulder to play 30 feet in the air. Some of our crew members hate it—“Will! You have children now!”—but climbing up there doesn’t actually feel that dangerous, and a little nervousness is good. I’m reaching for primate simplicity and catharsis: The crowd needs tension to experience release.But now I have no desire to make tension. I want people to feel safe and comfortable, and I wonder whether creating a feeling of danger and openness is antithetical to that. I know that cultivating a perception of safety and actually making people safe are different. On tour, in a big venue, every night our management and local security have a briefing. It’s partly to set a vibe—People are here for music. Everybody be chill. If some teenager sneaks into a closer section, please let them. But the briefing is also serious—where the medics are located, what the escape routes are. Most of the time, these safety measures are invisible. I worry that post-pandemic precautions, as welcome and necessary as they are, will be depressingly visible. Some elements, such as temperature checks, will be inane. Some, such as requiring vaccination, will be important. Regardless, they will also set a tone—not You are entering a place for music, but You are entering a secure location. Dancing is hard when you’re looking at your feet; singing is hard when you’re thinking about everybody else’s breath. I bet the crowd could get over this. I’m not confident I could. With limited capacities and tight procedures, I worry that the stage will feel like the VIP section of the VIP room at a members-only club. Sterile, lonely, all of us chillingly aware that we are part of a ticketed event.

I have another concern that’s hard to shake. After this pandemic year, I’m more aware of the responsibility I have not only to the people who buy tickets, but to the driver making deliveries to the show and to the family of the woman working arena concessions, people who really don’t care about what I’m doing onstage. Vaccination numbers will grow, and the pandemic will end, God willing. I’m not worried about the spread of the coronavirus in particular. But these links of responsibility remain. The analytical part of my brain turns off when touring starts. Before scrambling back to normalcy, I want to make sure that this sense of connection becomes embedded in how I think. I would really love to just be a musician—but I’m also an employer and a player in an industry that has chewed up and spit out plenty of people, especially in this past year.

My hesitations are all about shows, though, not music. Over the past year, I’ve rarely played music with others—a few practices and filmed performances; work on the new Arcade Fire record in November; a handful of Zooms with bandmates to help a school’s PTA fundraiser or support a candidate in the city-comptroller race. But in all of those instances, I’ve experienced an ease, a rightness to the communication—not through the screen with whoever was listening, necessarily, but the people I was playing with. That connection felt restorative, like having a night of deep sleep that repairs parts of yourself you don’t know how to access.

I know people are ready for live music, ready to forget themselves in a wash of sound, ready to loudly talk with their friends over the song they don’t like that much. And so, for heaven’s sake, go to Neumos in Seattle when shows come back. Go to the Hideout in Chicago. See your favorite band, or somebody new. Plenty of artists don’t share my nervousness. I don’t want to add worry to the world; I’m just figuring out my new relationship to performance.

The magnolias are out in New York, and some of the apple trees are blossoming. Temperatures are creeping past 60. The vaccines keep rolling out. The future seems more possible. If I miss an emotion from live shows, it’s not any moment of transcendence. I miss the time just after, when, dazed and excited, you still feel the reach of some universal gesture, but the only thing concrete is the people around you.

https://www.theatlantic.com/ideas/archive/2021/04/world-changed-what-makes-live-show-successful-didnt-arcade-fire/618625/

[rfaromance]

HyunHyun

Take pictures of your precious moments-- they last longer.

Memories were fleeting, but a photo could last for eternity, transcending the limits that human bodies faced and living for lifetimes.

Thus, as an actor, as an artist, and as a friend, Zen held an immense amount of respect for the work of Jihyun Kim, or as he called him, V. V was a rather modest, mellow, mild-mannered man, but one didn’t need to have an eye for composition to be able to tell from first glance that he was insanely talented. His photographs captured not only colors and figures, but emotions and energy. They touched so many hearts and minds, and it was that ability to strike deep into the core of a person that had actually led to V finding the love of his life.

Unfortunately, their fairy tale came to an abrupt ending, when sorrow and the sea swallowed Rika whole, leaving nothing but her memory, her photos, and her legacy.

Everyone in Rika’s Fundraising Association had taken a hit when Rika passed, but V had suffered the most of all. That was natural, that was expected-- the two of them had promised their lives to each other.

For the longest time, V had been unable to pick up his camera again, and he had withdrawn into his solitude and despair. The RFA had all struggled with how to handle him, how to help him, how to heal him. Only time could heal some wounds, but… surely they could at least extend their hands and show that they would be there for him, in the same way he had supported them in their lowest moments and brought them together?

V saved Zen’s life-- that was no overstatement. Zen would not be here today if not for V’s persistence, V’s dedication, V’s curiosity, V’s kindness. If V could bring him back from the brink of a physical demise, then as his friend… didn’t Zen have a duty to bring him back from his own spiritual death?

These were the thoughts swirling in the young actor’s head as he stood at V’s doorstep, a bouquet of daffodils in one hand and a 6-pack of beer in the other. He had hit a personal roadblock in his own career; while he had managed to land a minor role in this latest play, he was struggling a lot with delivering his lines. Memorization was rarely a problem for him, but he was having an unusual amount of difficulty grasping the tone and the character that he desired. A lovelorn man was nothing new, but a lovelorn man who was lusting after his taken best friend? How much desperation should he employ, and how much support should he balance with it? He had to strike that precarious balance between desire and restraint, between yearning and withdrawing, between lust and level-headedness. Imagine being in love with your best friend!

Zen hadn’t even had a girlfriend since he could remember. He was dating his job, in a sense. This harsh reality only made the time he spent with his friends even more valuable.

Therefore, even though he was going to be working while he was with V, using V to recite his lines, he was still rather excited to stay overnight. V’s house was a considerable distance from his, over by the sea; why did artists have to live in such bizarre, eclectic places?

At least he had brought some beer to help them unwind when they were done.

As the white-haired young man rapped on the door, he was a little afraid of what kind of state he would find V in. Some days, he seemed to be calm and collected; other days, he was completely lost in his thoughts, and his eyes looked so misted and faraway, as if he could hardly see what was directly in front of him. Would V be at peace, or would he be tormented, when he came to the door?

The sea-blue eyes that greeted him twinkled like aquamarines. The pale face before him was aglow like the sun. The smile that greeted him was warmer than a hearth.

“Hyun.” Even his voice felt lighter than usual, like he were breathing fresh air instead of trying not to swallow water. “It’s a pleasure to see you. Thank you for coming all this way.” As refined and polite as ever, but still somehow… more casual. More relaxed. More… at ease.

“You’re the one doing me a favor,” Zen reminded him with a small chuckle. “The pleasure is mine, V. I rarely get to see you these days. How have you been holding up?”

A dark shadow flitted across his gaze, albeit briefly. “I’ve been… better,” he confessed, and he rubbed the back of his head a little sheepishly. He then ran his hand through his bangs--he had allowed his hair to grow out ever since losing Rika a few months prior, and his minty bangs now reached his chin. Getting a closer look at him now, Zen contemplated making a note to bring V some of his special shampoo; he shouldn’t let beautiful hair like that get either too greasy or dried out from improper treatment. “I’ve really been looking forward to seeing you, though,” he added, probably hoping to lighten the mood and alleviate Zen’s concerns.

Zen was still going to worry--he had a bit of a mother hen’s nature--but he would try to keep himself in check and not dote on V too much. They were friends, equals, companions. And besides, V was someone whom Zen respected immensely. Someone whose artistry, and whose beauty (both inside and out), rivaled his own. “I understand,” Zen told him with a puff of his chest. “I’d be excited to see me, too.” He gave his friend a flirty wink and his trademark smile that he flashed to his adoring fans.

If he had done that to Yoosung, the blond boy would have probably complained. If he had done that to Jaehee, the young woman probably would have melted. If he had done that to Seven, the mischievous hacker probably would have winked back. If he had done that to Jumin, the trust fund kid probably would have rolled his eyes.

He wasn’t sure what he had expected from V, but it certainly wasn’t the soft blush on his cheeks and the small giggle that escaped his thin lips. “Never change, Hyun,” he murmured, and then he returned a slight smile of his own, with his upturned mouth and small dimples shining brighter than the sun.

Oh. That’s why Rika had called him her sun.

“R-right,” Zen mumbled as he entered with a respectful bow. After he kicked off his shoes, he turned to V to ask him where to put the beer. “Hey, I brought these for later. Where should I put--”

Why was V gazing at him so intently?

“Yes, you’ll be perfect for this,” he declared at last with a firm nod and a slam of his fist into his open palm. “Hyun, I… Will you accept my apology?”

Always so considerate of others. He was apologizing before Zen even knew what reason he had to be sorry. “Tell me what’s going on, first,” the actor insisted. “I just got here. You haven’t done anything wrong here, or quite frankly, anything wrong that I can remember.” Was this an old wound that V wanted to close? An unresolved situation that needed closure? Zen tried to sort through the jumbled memories in his mind; V had never done anything to truly upset him. He had gone silent and pulled himself away from the RFA for a while, but Zen wasn’t about to chide him for how he chose to cope with his grief.

Zen, after all, had been prone to taking extreme, dramatic actions when he was feeling emotionally charged, too.

“I promise, we will practice your lines,” V continued, as Zen tried to piece together the different elements of what he was saying. “I have a request first, though, if you would be willing to indulge me.”

A request? Zen raised his eyebrows, but he found himself nodding nonetheless. He had no reason to doubt V, to question him, to suspect him. “Whatever you need,” he promised, with another quick wink and a snap of his fingers. “Let me guess. You needed an otherworldly beauty to model for you, right?” He propped one leg up onto V’s dining room table and leaned forward with one arm leaning against his knee, as if he were a ship captain looking out at the sea. “I understand. God made a mistake when creating me, so nobody else quite compares.” Of course, he knew that couldn’t be the case. As far as he knew, V rarely picked up his camera these days, if he even took pictures at all. When Rika died, his muse had died, too. His creative spirit, his inspiration, his drive, his passion… they weren’t necessarily dead, but they were on emergency life support. Zen wasn’t sure what kind of presence, what kind of power would be able to spur V to take photographs once again. He eagerly awaited that day, though.

“You’re exactly right.”

Zen didn’t even realize his mouth had fallen agape until V walked up to him, one hand outstretched to gently cup his chin and clamp his jaw shut. “You’re a marvel, Hyun. I… I’ve been thinking about what drew her to you in the first place.” His voice dropped, choked for a second, when he mentioned his former fiancee. But he kept speaking, pushing forward. “It wasn’t just your looks. It wasn’t just your talent. It wasn’t just your charisma. It was…” He furrowed his brow, as though searching for the proper words to describe what was on his mind. “Your aura.”

Aura?

Burning blue met confused crimson as V stared intently into Zen’s eyes. “You exude an aura of kindness, but also one of intensity. You’re naturally gifted, but you also work remarkably hard. You have a relaxed, likeable, comforting quality to you that draws people in, but when you get immersed in your work, you’re serious, stern, and disciplined.” His fingertips slid down Zen’s neck to his shoulders, and the tender touch sent a shiver racing through Zen’s spine. Was… V always like this when he got into work mode? This was a side of the photographer that he had never seen.

Why did a voice in the back of Zen’s mind whisper to him, “Did Rika ever see this side?”

“You’re a star, Zen, even if you don’t see it yet.” Now V gave him a pat on the shoulder and took a step back. “I want to help you see it, and perhaps expose others to your light as well.” He turned to a bag on his couch and shuffled around for a moment before withdrawing an exquisite camera-- one of the fancy ones that Zen only ever saw paparazzi use. “Would you allow me the honor?”

Only one possible response came to Zen’s brain and to his tongue:

“The honor is all mine.”

~~~

A can in one man’s hand, a glass in the other man’s grip.

While Zen guzzled beer, of his wine V would take a small sip.

A flick of a white ponytail, a shake of minty bangs.

When these two became tipsy, musical numbers they sang.

As their lips became loose, their thoughts began to spill as well.

Some words, some secrets, some things they never had meant to tell.

V was weaker to his wine, and so he was first to speak,

And the sentence he uttered made Zen’s tender heart grow weak.

“I’ve always admired you, though for a while ‘twas from afar.

You have always had the radiance of a shining star.

At first I was jealous of the way Rika admired you,

Until I realized that I felt the same way she did, too.”

He put his glass down on the table, and then bowed his head.

“I was afraid to ask you to model, so full of dread.

Imagine my delight when you agreed with a whole heart.”

And that’s when he moved a bit closer, giving Zen a start.

“I want to remember this day, the time we spent as friends.”

Why did that word seem to rip Zen’s heart into little shreds?

Hyun and Jihyun were friends, and dear to each other for sure,

But would it be a crime if the two of them wanted more?

Zen put his own drink down, then turned to face V’s minty eyes.

“Say what you’re thinking,” he demanded, much to V’s surprise.

“You always hold back, and today I was happy to see

That you were unafraid to ask for a favor from me.”

V looked hesitant, then finally emitted a sigh.

“Promise not to leave me? Promise not to bid me good-bye?”

Zen reached forward and planted his porcelain hand atop V’s.

With his signature wink, he gave his friend’s hand a firm squeeze.

“I shouldn’t speak, not when Rika’s memory is still fresh.

But I’m bearing a large sin that I think I must confess.”

Zen tilted his head to the side, but gave V a brisk nod.

He wanted to hear this confession, no matter how odd.

“Rika was my first love, the light of my entire life.

But life goes on, despite our ongoing turmoil and strife.

If Rika was my sun, then I must find another star.

And it appears to me that I needn’t search very far.”

Before Zen could question what the mint-haired man’s words could mean,

In towards Zen’s face, the photographer started to lean.

A peck on the lips, a delicate brush of skin on skin.

This was V’s secret, this was the young man’s heavy burden.

V tried to pull away as quickly as he had appeared,

And him leaving was the thing Zen discovered he most feared.

So the actor pushed forth, biting onto V’s rosy lips.

He scooted a tad closer, with a shuffle of his hips.

One might have imagined the kiss tasted of beer and wine,

But on the contrary, it was of a flavor divine.

The tastes of elegant mint and a hearty red bean bun.

A flavor that was mature, but in a way, also fun.

Edges of salt and smoke coated this unexpected kiss,

One marred by sorrow but also decorated with bliss.

When the two finally were forced to breathe and break apart,

They were of two bodies, but now bore only one shared heart.

“I…” V began, but his usually level voice trailed off.

“I think you should go,” he whispered, his voice eerily soft.

Zen jumped to his feet, ready to spit out many protests.

But judging from V’s expression, he now needed to rest.

“Thanks for helping me with my character,” Zen said at last.

“I’m sure I’ll remember this day when the stage comes to pass.”

And with a fond farewell, V waved to his friend as he left.

But as Zen closed the door behind him, his heart felt bereft.

His fingers traveled to his lips, where he still felt V’s touch.

Maybe the actor had just walked in there wanting too much.

“Take a picture to preserve moments,” is what he’d been told,

but no photo would last as long as this memory would.

[starryknight09]

That’s not how Ironman goes out

Febuwhump Day 7: poisoning

Read on AO3.

________________________________________________________

Peter pulled his grey hoodie on, practically bouncing on his feet as he finished dressing.  Today was going to be the best day.  He was headed over to Ned’s this morning to work on the new Star Wars Lego set his friend had gotten for his birthday last week, and then he had plans to take MJ out to a new Mexican-Korean fusion restaurant she’d been talking about ever since it opened last month.  They’d been together for almost three months now and he still loved seeing the look on her face whenever he surprised her.

“Peter can you come here for a minute?” Aunt May called from the living room.

“Yeah!” He answered, not thinking anything of it.  He shoved his wallet in his back pocket and toed on his shoes, checking his phone for any messages before pocketing it as well.

He made a detour to the kitchen to grab an apple out of the bowl on the counter, enjoying the crunch of it as he took a huge bite before turning to find May sitting on the couch across the room.

“What’s up?” He asked, barely understandable, around a mouthful of apple.

“Come here.” May patted the couch cushion next to her.  The oddness of the invitation made him stop and focus.  He noticed a characteristic crinkling in the corner of May’s eyes, something she only did when she was worried and trying to hide it.  It was an expression he’d seen more than a few times ever since she’d discovered his vigilante identity.

“What’s wrong?” He moved to stand in front of her.

“Sit down honey.”

“No, I’m good.  I have to get going to Ned’s soon or I’m going to be late.  I promised I’d be there by noon.” He said, checking his watch for show.  The way May was acting made him want to escape.  Made him afraid.

“I need you to sit down.” May patted the space next to her again.

He had the irrational urge to whine, ‘I don’t want to.’  To stamp his feet and refuse.  Because no good news ever came from scenarios like this.  But instead of refusing, he forced his knees to bend and hesitantly sat down next to his aunt.

May reached out to hold his hands.  “Honey, I have to tell you something.”

His heart started racing.  “May, you’re scaring me.”

“You know how Tony had that fundraiser last night?”

He nodded.  Tony had invited him, but it was a stuffy black-tie event, which wasn’t really his thing, and Peter had already had a readymade excuse not to go.  He’d made plans with MJ and hadn’t wanted to disappoint her by cancelling.  Tony hadn’t minded because Peter was heading up to the cabin tomorrow to spend the weekend with him where there wouldn’t be a bunch of uptight old people milling around.

“Well,” May continued, “we’re not sure how it happened yet, but somehow someone managed to slip something into Tony’s drink.”

His stomach dropped out of his body.  No.

“Is he dead?” His voice trembled, afraid to hear the answer.  Afraid that the reason May had positioned him here was to deliver the news that his last remaining father figure was gone.

“No honey.” May reassured him and his eyes closed as he let out a sharp breath of relief.  She squeezed his hands.  “But he’s very sick, and they’re doing everything they can, but we just don’t know yet what’s going to happen.”

He bit his lower lip to keep it from quivering as tears welled up in his eyes.  This couldn’t be happening.

“Why would someone do this?” He managed to choke out the question.

“Oh honey.” May tugged him forward into a hug.  “I know.  It doesn’t make any sense.  They think it was someone from that ridiculous group.”

Peter clenched his jaw.  He knew exactly what group she was talking about.  After Tony had saved everyone, and almost died in the process, a group of zealots had become vocal about how reversing the snap had set back all the environmental progress Earth had made after losing half its population.  They hated Tony for what he’d done.  They believed life had been better before the reversal because the human race was no longer multiplying at a rate that the Earth couldn’t sustain.  Apparently, there’d been less hunger.  Less pollution.  Less war.  But infinitely more heart ache.  Peter didn’t think any of the other stuff even came close to canceling that out.

“I think we should go see him.” May suggested, rubbing his back as she held him and the tears slid down his cheeks.  “Just in case.”

In case he died.  The words went unvoiced.  The very thought that it was even a possibility made him want to scream.  Because of some hate group.  He should’ve gone to that party.  Maybe he would’ve sensed something.  Maybe his ‘Peter tingle’ would’ve caught on.  But no, he’d chosen to hang out with MJ instead.  

“Yeah.” He said, trying to get a handle on his emotions.  “Let’s go.”

“Ok.” May gave him another tight squeeze before releasing him.  “He’s at the compound.  I’ll drive.”

It’d taken months, but they’d rebuilt the compound, like some sort of symbol, bigger and better, in the same place where it’d been desecrated.  Peter usually felt some amount of awe whenever he drove up to it, but not today.  A numbness had descended upon him ever since he’d gotten in the car.  It was as if he couldn’t process any more emotion, good or bad, until he knew if Tony would be ok.  Like a kind of limbo.

The clop of his sneakers on the immaculately polished floors echoed ominously throughout the silent halls. May had tried to throw her arm over his shoulders in support on the walk in but he’d shrugged it off.  Even though he desired the comfort, he hadn’t wanted to be seen as weak by any other Avengers they might encounter.  They already looked at him like a child.

He and May rounded the corner and Peter stopped up short.  Tony’s door was at the end of the hall, and he was almost afraid to cross the remaining distance.  He didn’t want to see him hooked up to machines with wires attached and tubes coming out of him.  Seeing him like that was always hard.  The man was supposed to be larger than life, so anytime something happened where he actually appeared mortal, it was like the cosmic forces were out of sync.

“Come on baby.” May nudged him forward with a hand against his back.

Peter took a deep breath and managed to put one foot in front of the other again.  He could do this.  He had to.  He’d never forgive himself if he didn’t see Tony and something happened.  When they got to his door, Peter paused again, but he forced his hand to grip the door handle and twist it open.

“Hey kid!” Tony greeted him cheerily, sitting up in bed and not looking at all close to death.

Peter froze, not quite believing his eyes.  His gaze shot over to May, wondering if this had all been some sort of cruel trick, but she looked equally shocked.  His eyes darted back to Tony, afraid to believe it.  But the man seemed fine.  Maybe a little drawn and tired but not on death’s door like he’d been led to believe.

He took a halting step forward, not quite ready to trust it, and worried that too much hope might shatter the mirage in front of him.  

“What’s wrong Pete?” Tony frowned.

“You…you’re ok?” He asked, taking another step forward.

“Yeah I’m fine.” Tony held an arm out towards him, encouraging him to come closer.

Peter hurried over to him, grabbing Tony’s arm once he got close enough.  He was real, solid and warm

“You’re ok.” He repeated as if in affirmation.

“That’s what I said.  Try to keep up kid.” Tony smirked at him, and Peter felt his resolve crumble.  Relieved sobs bubbled up and out of him, shaking his frame.

“Shit.  Come here.” Tony pulled him into a comforting hug.  “I’m fine.  I promise I’m fine.”

A minute later Peter heard the familiar click of heels enter the room behind him, but he didn’t lift his head, still working on regaining his composure.

“Oh.” He heard Pepper say in surprise.  “Oh May.  I’m sorry.  I forgot to call you back.  As soon as I got off the phone with you Bruce figured out the antidote and an hour later Tony was fine.  I can’t believe I forgot to let you know.  I’m so sorry.”

“It’s ok.  I’m sure you had a lot on your mind.” May reassured her.

“Still, that’s no excuse.  Oh sweetie I’m sorry I scared you.  It was touch and go there for awhile but Tony’s going to be fine.” Pepper placed her hand on his back.  He really didn’t want her to feel bad.  He tried to pull himself together.  Tony was perfectly fine.  He wasn’t going to die.  

Peter took a deep breath and pulled away, wiping his eyes as he sniffled.

“Sorry.  I didn’t mean to fall apart.” He gave them a tight smile.  “I just—  Well, we thought you were dying.”

“Dying?  You told them I was dying?” Tony threw an accusatory look at Pepper.

She crossed her arms and raised her voice, “We thought you were dying.”

“Pfft.  It’d take more than some crazy zealot to take me out.  Don’t you know me at all honey?”

Pepper rolled her eyes.

“I mean seriously, poison?  That’s not how Ironman goes out.” Tony shook his head and then looked at him with a smirk.  “Right?”

“Right.” He agreed with a nod.

“If anything, it’ll be in a blaze of glory.”

It took every ounce of Peter’s being to not think about Thanos and Tony snapping the gauntlet, coming as close as anyone could to death.

“Yes, at the rate you’re going, you will probably blow yourself up someday.” Pepper deadpanned.

“Hey!” Tony said indignantly.  Peter couldn’t help it.  He snorted out a small laugh, the numbness and fear inside him finally melting away.

“No,” May smiled, joining in the fun, “it’s going to be—”

“Old age.” Peter interrupted, not wanting to think of any other possibility at the moment, not even in jest.

They all quieted down, and Tony looked at him, a soft smile on his face and eyes alive and twinkling.  “Yeah. Old age.  That could work.”

[emospritelet]

Heatstroke - chapter 11

In which Gold and Lacey’s loved ones try to reason with them

[AO3]

x

Gold watched as Lacey scuttled across the diner behind Miss Lucas, very pointedly not looking at him. Neal glanced at him, then turned, following his line of sight.

“Oh, hey,” he said. “It’s your neighbour. Least we know she has clothes, I guess.”

“That was her?” Emma craned her neck, staring as Lacey disappeared through the door. “Holy crap! Go, Pops!”

“I’m not going anywhere,” said Gold repressively. “And certainly not with Miss French.”

Emma shrugged, turning back and slipping out of her jacket.

“Just saying, she’s very pretty.”

“And as I’ve already mentioned,” said Gold patiently, “she detests me.”

“You don’t know that!” 

“She left the diner as soon as I came in,” he said. “That seems pretty clear-cut to me.”

“Poor thing’s probably just embarrassed,” said Neal.

“Yes, anyone prepared to get naked in someone else’s house is clearly a shrinking violet,” remarked Gold, in a very dry tone.

“She was prepared to get naked in front of you,” said Emma. “She wasn’t prepared for someone else being the audience. It would be like me thinking Neal was in the kitchen and doing my sexy dance, and it turns out to be you. Pretty sure I’d go to bed for a week.”

Gold closed his eyes.

“I - really didn’t need to hear about the sexy dance…”

“Embarrassing, right?” said Neal. “Imagine how she feels.”

“Well, maybe it’ll teach her not to flash people,” said Gold. “I have no sympathy. She was probably trying to embarrass me, anyway.”

“Fine,” sighed Emma. “I’m falling back on my ‘you’re both as bad at flirting as each other’ idea. Why don’t you just ask her out, save the poor girl any more humiliation.”

“Ask her out?” Gold stared at her incredulously. “She’s a bloody disaster! And I very much doubt I’m her type.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” He flapped a hand at the door that Lacey had just hurried through. “Look at her! And - and look at me!”

“You’re both short and stupid,” said Neal. “Match made in heaven.”

“I thought you two weren’t going to tease me about this,” snapped Gold, as Emma laughed.

“I see you’re not denying the fact that she’s hot,” she said. “How do you know what her type is, anyway?”

“I don’t,” he said shortly. “I just know it isn’t me.”

“Did she tell you that?”

“Can we just order dinner?” snapped Gold, snatching up the menu. “I have no desire to spend the evening in a futile discussion about Miss French, thank you.”

“Whatever you say,” said Emma, winking at him. “But you know what I’m like after a couple of drinks, so you’d better brace yourself for some questions later on.”

“What can I say?” Neal shrugged as Gold shot him an exasperated look. “I married an investigator. You’re screwed.”

x

Lacey slumped in a chair at The Rabbit Hole, shrugging out of her jacket and draping it over her bag beneath her feet. She watched Ruby weave her way back from the bar, a drink in each hand.

“Here you go.” Ruby put down the glasses, and took the seat across from her. “Let’s see if we can beat last night’s total. It’s not often I get Friday and Saturday off, so I plan on getting wasted.”

“My usual weekend,” remarked Lacey, and Ruby chuckled. 

“Granny’ll probably wake me up at six tomorrow morning on purpose,” she said. “Apparently the best hangover cure is deep cleaning the grills. According to her.”

Lacey shuddered, taking a drink.

“Think I’ll limit my morning activity to yoga and coffee drinking,” she said. “I have to recover by Monday, I have a breakfast interview with that West woman.”

“Zelena?” Ruby’s mouth twisted in amusement. “You’re interviewing her?”

“Sidney’s idea,” said Lacey. “Something about her charity dance thing. I’m hoping she doesn’t remember that I told her to go screw herself when she cut in line at the Dark Star.”

“Well, she certainly likes her fundraisers,” remarked Ruby. “Maybe focus on that.”

“What can you tell me about her?” asked Lacey, and Ruby shrugged.

“Not much. She moved up here from New York a few years ago. There was some sort of rumour going around that she was hiding from something, but I don’t know if there’s any truth in that. She’s kind of - intense. I get the feeling she doesn’t like the Mayor.”

“Why not?”

“No idea. Just caught her giving Regina the stink-eye a few times.”

“Okay.” Lacey hesitated, stirring her drink again. “Sidney said she flirts with Mr Gold.”

“Oh!” Ruby cackled, tossing her hair over her shoulder. “Boy, does she ever. It’s embarrassing! He used to come in the diner for coffee at seven-thirty each morning, and I’m almost positive the reason he’s moved to eight-thirty is because she kept fawning over him.”

“Ugh.” Lacey shuddered. “So I guess the feeling isn’t mutual.”

“No, but she’s not taking the hint,” said Ruby, still grinning.

Lacey took another drink, enjoying the smooth heat of rum on her tongue, and Ruby rolled her shoulders with a contented sigh, glancing towards the bar.

“Pretty quiet for a Saturday, huh?”

“You mean we managed to get a table?” Lacey looked around. “Guess it’s early. Hadn’t planned to leave Granny’s so quickly.”

“Yeah, what’s up with that?” Ruby stirred her drink with a straw. “I get you being embarrassed about the whole kitchen nakedness thing, but Neal isn’t a jerk. Or a creep. He wouldn’t have said anything to you.”

“It’s not him I’m worried about,” muttered Lacey, stabbing at the ice cubes in her drink.

“You’re still worried about Gold?” Ruby shook her head. “I told you, just act like nothing happened. He’ll be fine.”

“And if he isn’t?”

“Why do you even care?” asked Ruby. “You don’t strike me as the kind of person who gets hung up over stupid mistakes. If you were you wouldn’t come out drinking with me.”

“I don’t know!” said Lacey, feeling frustrated. “I’ve done stuff that’s way worse. I once streaked the length of the football field for a dare. In the middle of the last game of the season. The number of people that have seen me naked is actually pretty high.”

“Well, there you go.” Ruby gestured at her. “So why the hang-up over what Gold thinks?”

“I told you, I don’t know!”

Ruby sat back in her chair, brows lowering a little before shooting upwards as she leaned forwards, mouth open.

“Oh my God!” she whispered. “You like him!”

“What?” Lacey stared at her incredulously. “I do not!”

“Oh you so do!” Ruby’s expression was half delight, half disbelief. “This is amazing! You totally have the hots for Mr Gold!”

“Would you shut up?” Lacey snapped, glancing around anxiously to see if any of the Rabbit Hole regulars had overheard. “I don’t have the hots for the guy! I don’t know anything about him, except that he’s really comfortable with getting his cock out.”

“That’s not a bad thing…”

“Ruby!”

“Okay, fine!” Ruby rolled her eyes. “I won’t say anything else about it.”

“Good.”

“Guess you’re in denial. I can wait.”

“Ruby!”

“Okay, okay!”

Ruby picked up her glass, grinning at Lacey over the rim.

“Any bright ideas about that interview you want to do with him?”

“No,” said Lacey grumpily. “If you can think of any, now’s the time to tell me.”

“You could always do it over a nice romantic dinner…”

“Oh my God…”

Lacey slumped back in her chair as Ruby giggled, snatching up her drink and taking a gulp.

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing,” said Ruby, taking a sip of her own. “How about this? Send Darcy over with an invite. Since he’s so adept at breaking into Gold’s house.”

Lacey had to chuckle at that.

“Wouldn’t be surprised if that’s where he’s been eating,” she admitted. “If so, at least I know Gold likes cats.”

“And you’re interested in this little piece of trivia why, exactly?” enquired Ruby, raising a brow.

Lacey opened her mouth, then closed it again.

“I am not interested in him,” she said flatly. “And - and even if I was it wouldn’t matter.”

“Why not?”

“Because he hates me, that’s why.”

“You don’t know that!”

“I do!” she insisted. “He threw a bloody drink over me!”

“You threw one over him!”

“Yeah, but there were reasons!” said Lacey. “And - and besides, we have nothing in common!”

“You’re both blind idiots,” said Ruby bluntly. “Match made in heaven.”

Lacey sighed in exasperation, and drained her glass.

“Right, I’m getting another round,” she said. “The sooner we’re too drunk to even mention Gold’s name, the better.”