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westside-rot · 8 days ago

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Talk To Me Nice

Pairing: Terry Richmond X Black reader

No warnings for this one. Hopefully there aren't too many errors cuz it's only lightly edited. I'm trying to squeeze in my last post of the year lol

This little idea is the result of a writing prompt and @megamindsecretlair keeping me honest about writing something every day. Figured I'd share the results with whoever else wants to check it out.

“That’s a bit harsh my love…”

After spending the last 20 minutes filling your home with negative energy you expected reciprocation. Instead you were being derailed with a new form of gaslighting, the kind reserved for evolved men who appeared harmless on the surface but harbored a petty side few got to see. Though impressive, you knew Terry was only using kind words to paint himself the victim. It didn’t matter how many steps ahead you thought you were. The guilt still hit with the same bruising force.

Six months of newlywed bliss cruelly interrupted by disappointment you never wanted to feel so early into your marriage. Perhaps there was a better way to convey that hurt to your husband. Maybe sitting him down for a mature conversation would’ve spared you from the growing pressure around your temples and the rawness in your throat from all the yelling you’d been doing. You were convinced the window for apologies and grand romantic gestures had closed. He'd started it. You were damn sure going to finish it.

You pushed through your doubts and committed to your frustrations with arms folded tightly across your chest, the initial urge to roll your eyes shifting to a hard, resolute stare. “Well Terrence sometimes harsh is necessary.”

He scratched his beard and nodded as though you’d just agreed on what to have for dinner. Silence took over the room once again, intensifying the conflict between you. His eyes never broke contact.

“Are you done?” From anyone else the question would’ve triggered your inner toxic and possibly resulted in the police being called. But there was note of calmness in your husband’s voice that exonerated him from the accusation before it became your new truth. Terry wasn’t being dismissive. He was simply better at regulating his emotions. His inability to stop wringing his hands together revealed the stress hidden within. For a second time you were forced to ignore your guilt for the sake of winning. Mirroring his casual demeanor, you continued to stand firm and prepared for whatever he intended to say next.

“I must’ve imagined sitting in premarital counseling for all those weeks. Or maybe I was the only one taking it seriously. That must be it 'cause at the first sign of a problem you’ve broken every promise we made to each other.” His words landed direct hits on your conscience. Everything holding you together began to cave under the weight of his response. Terry wasn’t wrong. Instinctively, you went into defense mode anyway.

“That’s not fai—”

“Nah, you’re not about to interrupt me. I let you speak. You’ll show me the same respect. Understand?” The natural base in his voice instantly got your attention. Yes sir rang so clearly in your mind you weren’t entirely convinced you hadn’t said it out loud. You prayed Terry couldn’t somehow feel the lust pulsing alongside everything else flooding your system. One day soon under normal circumstances you were going to explore his newfound aggressive side. How, you weren’t entirely sure. With a new goal seared into your brain and soaked through panties clinging to your ass you managed to retain a sense of dignity as you obeyed your husband’s command.

“You’re my wife. One day you’ll be the mother of our children. I refuse to let them hear us talking crazy to each other, so I’m gonna need you to find a better way to communicate your feelings. If I need to sign us back up for therapy I will but this shit ends tonight.”

All the fight drained from your body. Shame took its place. In its presence you were finally able to recall those important conversations leading up to your wedding, the dreams you shared, the legacy you wanted to create. If not for your anger you could have revisited them sooner and found a better use for them. Now you were facing an evening apart, perhaps more depending on how long Terry held on to a grudge.

All you could do was stare at the ground and wait for it to be over with. Hopefully you’d find a way to sleep knowing you had failed your first test as a wife. When your lip started to quiver you promptly bit down on it to keep your hurt feelings in check. You hadn’t behaved in a way deserving of care but when Terry's long fingers reached out to palm the side of your face you sought out his warmth like a needy kitten.

“Now you’re breaking my heart.”

“I can’t help it. Did you have to be so mean?” Though you found your ability to speak you burrowed your pout lips further into his hand. The loudest person in the room didn’t deserve to cry. If you were lucky you'd disappear and rematerialize tomorrow with more sense.

“It got your attention. Besides, I thought harsh was necessary. Or does that only apply when you’re cursing me out?” He chuckled. You weren’t persuaded by the playfulness in his voice to look up. Terry initiated the gesture with fingers affectionately placed beneath your chin. It wasn’t lost on you that he'd repositioned your face at the same proud angle you held while lecturing him as if two nights apart somehow equated to years of neglect. You wanted to look away but soon discovered his eyes remained steadfast and beautiful in the aftermath of the storm you’d caused. They connected with your soul in an instant providing a gentle assurance that you were safe with him.

The words flowed through your upturned lips effortlessly. “I’m sorry baby. You didn’t deserve all those ugly things I said to you.” Before you could say more he captured your face in both hands, stroking your cheek with his thumb.

“You’re already forgiven my love.” Terry’s lips grazed yours as he spoke. The distance was torture. Finally, after what felt like an unbearably long time, he covered your mouth with his, reestablishing his dominance with a tenderness that sets your heart and mind at ease. It was a proper reconciliation, but it also wasn’t enough. Not after the way you behaved tonight.

You treated the sincerity on his lips as your own personal buffet. When it became difficult to breathe you pulled away to regain control over the situation. “I still have a lot to make up for.”

A smile tugged at his lips as he pushed the curls back from your face. “We both do. Your approach needs some work, but you had a right to be upset with me.” You nodded and yet nothing in you wanted to celebrate the vindication. You were simply relieved to know you hadn’t caused any irrevocable damage by overreacting. Even more relieved to see him smiling again. "I think my beautiful and extremely childish wife should get the honor of going first.”

The frown you attempted to hold cracked under the pressure of his wide grin. You hate being teased. You were also guilty on all counts and willing to take your punishment. “I suppose that’s fair.”

“It’s very fair.” He mumbled between prolonged kisses down your neck.

You exhaled and curved your fingers over his broad shoulders. It was becoming harder to think or even breathe with him sucking everywhere his lips could reach. “Can we talk it out like grown-ups tomorrow?”

“Of course, baby. It's mandatory from now on.” When he spoke the guttural quality possessing his voice registered deep in the places he’s yet to touch. You felt painfully empty but knew you wouldn’t stay that way for long. At the rate his lips were moving you weren’t convinced you'd make it past the couch. You preferred the comfort of your king-sized bed the scene of your crime was a fitting place for getting down on your knees to make proper use of your mouth.

Terry surprised you when he broke the suction on your collarbone to reunite at eye level. There was a noticeable glint of mischief in his eyes before he bent down to throw you over his shoulder. You squealed and braced a hand at the center of his back for support you really didn't need.

"You better not drop me trying to be cute!"

"I was planning on letting you off easy tonight. Now I'm thinking your apology needs to be as loud as all that shit you've been talking."

"Yes daddy. Remind me what all these big strong muscles are really for. Also, please send help!"

With a single act you reclaim the home you’ve built, your gasps and combined laughter echoing along the walls as he carried you upstairs.

#terry richmond fic #rebel ridge fanfiction #x black reader

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novaursa · 5 days ago

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Legacy (the north and the south)

- Summary: Tywin was the man who saved you from Robert's wrath. He was also the man who doomed you.

- Pairing: targ!reader/Tywin Lannister

- Rating: Mature 16+

- Previous part: homesick

- Next part: sisters

- Tag(s): @sachaa-ff @oxymakestheworldgoround @luniaxi @alkadri-layal @butterflygxril

The raven arrived early in the morning, its cries echoing across the stone corridors of Dragonstone. The castle was shrouded in mist, the waves crashing relentlessly against the cliffs below. You were sitting in your chambers, cradling Maelor in your arms while Damon played with wooden soldiers on the floor. The warmth of the fire contrasted with the chill that lingered outside, but the peace of the morning was soon interrupted by a knock on the heavy oak door.

A servant entered, carrying the sealed letter. "My lady," he said respectfully, offering the parchment.

You handed Maelor gently to his wet nurse and took the letter, the seal unmistakable—the direwolf of House Stark. Your heart quickened as you broke it open, your eyes scanning the words written in Jon’s unmistakable hand.

“From Jon?” Tywin’s voice came from the doorway, calm yet piercing. He entered the room, his keen green eyes narrowing as he studied your expression.

You nodded, rereading the letter before speaking. “Winterfell is his again. Sansa is safe.”

Tywin approached, standing beside you. “And?”

A shadow passed over your face as you continued. “Rickon… he’s dead. Killed by Ramsay Bolton.” Your voice caught, and you paused to compose yourself. “Jon says there is still no word of Bran or Arya.”

Tywin remained silent for a moment, his jaw tightening. “The boy was a casualty of war. The North would have suffered greater losses had the Boltons not been stopped.”

You turned to him, your eyes sharp. “He wasn’t just a casualty. He was a child. My family.”

Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver, though his tone softened slightly. “I do not diminish his loss. But this is the cost of reclaiming Winterfell.”

Your fingers tightened around the parchment as you continued reading. “Jon plans to come here. He wants to meet Damon and Maelor.” You paused, the next part of the letter weighing heavily on your heart. “And he intends to speak with you, Tywin.”

A flicker of something crossed his face—curiosity, perhaps, or annoyance. “To what end?”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “Jon says he will demand justice for what has been done by your family to his.”

Tywin’s expression hardened, his features a mask of control. “Justice,” he said, the word laced with cold amusement. “The Starks have always had an idealistic view of the world.”

“Jon is no idealist,” you countered, your voice firm. “He’s been through too much to cling to fantasies. If he seeks justice, it’s because he believes it’s owed to him.”

Tywin exhaled slowly, his hands clasped behind his back as he turned to the window, gazing out at the misty sea. “He may demand what he wishes, but justice is not so easily defined. What does he expect? For me to undo the past?”

“He expects accountability,” you replied, your voice softer now. “He’s lost so much—almost his entire House. He blames you for what Boltons did and for the death of his father.”

Tywin turned back to you, his gaze piercing. “And do you?”

The question hung in the air, heavy with unspoken meaning. You met his eyes, your heart torn between loyalty to your husband and the pain that lingered for your family. “I don’t know. Roose followed your orders for the Red Wedding, the rest of it was done by him alone,” you admitted quietly. “But Jon deserves to be heard.”

Tywin regarded you for a long moment before nodding once. “Very well. Let him come. I will hear what he has to say.”

You nodded, your shoulders relaxing slightly. “Thank you.”

Tywin’s gaze softened, and he stepped closer, his hand brushing against your cheek. “I understand what this means to you,” he said quietly. “But do not let sentiment cloud your judgment. The world is not built on fairness.”

You placed your hand over his, your heart heavy but grateful for his understanding. “I know.”

As the day stretched on, the letter weighed on your mind. You found yourself watching Damon and Maelor more closely, their innocent laughter a reminder of what was at stake. Tywin’s words lingered, but so did the promise of Jon’s arrival.

The North and the South would meet again, but this time, it would be in the halls of Dragonstone.

The war council convened in the Great Hall of Dragonstone. The dark stone walls, lit by flickering torches, seemed to absorb the heated conversations as lords and knights debated the many pressing issues facing the realm. At the head of the long table sat Tywin Lannister, his presence as commanding as ever. Beside him, you occupied a seat of equal prominence, your gaze steady as you listened intently to the discourse.

Maps and reports were spread across the table, but the topic dominating the room was not one of politics or armies—it was the juvenile dragon that had made its home in Dragonmont. The beast had eluded every attempt at capture, growing bolder and more dangerous with each passing week.

Tywin tapped his fingers against the polished wood of the table, silencing the room. “The creature cannot be ignored any longer,” he began, his voice cutting through the tension. “It is a liability, one that poses a threat not only to this castle but to our control of the realm.”

Ser Jaime Lannister, seated further down the table, leaned back in his chair, his golden hand resting on the edge of the table. “A liability that breathes fire,” he quipped, though his tone lacked his usual humor. “If we can’t trap it, how do you propose we deal with it?”

Varys, standing near the shadows as was his custom, interjected smoothly, his hands folded before him. “Perhaps the question isn’t how to deal with it, but rather how to use it.”

All eyes turned to the spymaster. Tywin’s gaze narrowed. “Explain.”

Varys stepped forward, his silken voice carrying easily across the room. “The dragon is young, yes, but it is still a dragon. A creature of power, a symbol of strength. Instead of attempting to subdue it through force, perhaps we should consider… nurturing it.”

The suggestion drew murmurs from the lords, some of them uneasy. Tywin raised a hand, silencing them once more. “Nurturing a creature that has already killed men? Do you expect it to be tamed?”

“Not by just anyone, my lord,” Varys replied, his eyes brilliant with calculated intrigue. “But there are two in this very castle who share its blood. Your sons, Damon and Maelor.”

The room fell silent, the weight of Varys’s words sinking in. You stiffened slightly, your gaze darting to Tywin. His expression remained unreadable, though his fingers stopped their rhythmic tapping.

“You propose I send my children into a lair with a creature that has killed grown men?” Tywin said coldly, his voice dangerously low.

Varys inclined his head. “Not immediately, of course. The creature is still young, impressionable. Dragons have always responded to those with Valyrian blood. The sooner a bond is forged, the greater the control. If one of your sons were to claim it, my lord, it would no longer be a liability—it would be an asset.”

A murmur of agreement rippled through the room, though some lords exchanged uneasy glances. Tywin’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes searching your face. “What is your opinion on this?”

You hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing heavily on you. “I won’t deny that Varys has a point,” you said carefully. “But Damon is only three years old, and Maelor is barely out of the cradle. It’s too dangerous.”

“And yet your ancestors bonded with their dragons at a young age,” Varys pointed out gently, his gaze sliding to you. “Your blood allowed it. Why should your sons not have the same potential?”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line, his focus returning to Varys. “You suggest we gamble the lives of my heirs on the whims of a dragon.”

“I suggest you secure your house’s future,” Varys countered smoothly. “Two dragons are better than one, my lord. And with a Lannister’s hand on their reins, the realm will bend the knee without question.”

Jaime, who had been silent until now, leaned forward. “You’re assuming the dragon will accept either of them,” he said. “What happens if it doesn’t? If it sees them as prey instead of kin?”

Varys spread his hands in a gesture of feigned helplessness. “All things in life carry risk, Ser Jaime. But this is a calculated one.”

The room fell into a tense silence as Tywin considered the spymaster’s words. His mind weighed the potential benefits against the undeniable dangers. Finally, he turned to you once more. “You are the only one here who understands the bond between dragon and rider. If this course is pursued, it will fall to you to guide them. Can you do that?”

You took a deep breath, your heart heavy with the implications of what he was asking. “I can,” you said quietly, “but only when the time is right. Damon and Maelor are too young now. Forcing it would be a mistake.”

Tywin nodded once, his decision made. “Then we will wait. The dragon remains undisturbed for now. But preparations will be made. If the creature cannot be bonded to one of my sons, it will be dealt with.”

The lords murmured their agreement, the tension in the room easing slightly. Tywin dismissed the council with a curt wave of his hand, and the men began to file out. Varys lingered for a moment, his expression unreadable, before offering a slight bow and disappearing into the shadows.

When the room was empty save for Tywin and Jaime, the latter rose to his feet, a faint smirk on his lips. “A dragon bonded with the blood of Lannister. It’s a strange thought.”

Tywin glanced at him, his expression unreadable. “Strange, perhaps. But necessary.”

Jaime shook his head, his smirk fading into something more thoughtful. “Let’s just hope it doesn’t see Damon as dinner.”

Tywin said nothing, his gaze shifting to the door as if already contemplating the battles yet to come. You placed a hand on his arm, drawing his attention back to you.

“This isn’t just about the dragon, is it?” you asked softly.

“No,” Tywin admitted, his voice quieter now. “It’s about ensuring the legacy of this house—whatever the cost.”

The sea breeze swept across the battlements of Dragonstone, carrying with it the scent of salt and the promise of change. You stood beside Tywin atop the castle's walls, your eyes fixed on the horizon where ships emerged from the mist, their sails bearing the stark grey direwolf of House Stark. The sight filled you with a strange mixture of pride and apprehension.

“They’re here,” you said softly, the words almost lost to the wind.

Tywin’s gaze remained steady on the approaching fleet, his expression unreadable. “Punctual,” he remarked, his voice carrying its usual commanding tone. “As expected of the North.”

You turned to him, your lips curving into a faint smile. “I didn’t think you’d appreciate Northern punctuality.”

“I appreciate men who understand the value of time,” Tywin replied, his eyes never leaving the approaching ships. “Your adopted Stark child appears to have that much sense, at least.”

Your gaze returned to the sea, the sight of the ships stirring memories of Jon—his determination, his sense of honor, his quiet strength. “Jon isn’t like most men,” you said, almost to yourself. “He’s been through so much, and yet he’s still standing.”

Tywin’s silence spoke volumes, his mind likely dissecting every possible outcome of Jon’s arrival. “The question is whether he’ll remain standing after this meeting,” he said finally. “The North has a tendency to act before thinking.”

You shot him a look, your amusement tinged with exasperation. “Jon isn’t Robb.”

“No, he isn’t,” Tywin agreed, though his tone carried a note of caution. “But he is still a Stark. And Starks are ruled by their emotions.”

“Perhaps,” you conceded. “But Jon’s emotions are tempered by experience. He’s seen things most men couldn’t imagine, let alone survive.”

Tywin’s gaze shifted to you briefly, his green eyes seeing through you. “You seem eager to defend him.”

“I’ve raised him,” you said simply, meeting his gaze without flinching. “And he’s been through enough betrayal for one lifetime.”

Tywin’s expression hardened slightly at your words, though he said nothing. Instead, his attention returned to the ships, which were now closer, their banners fluttering in the wind. The soldiers aboard could be seen moving about, their armor shining faintly in the sunlight.

“Cersei won’t like this,” you said after a moment, breaking the silence. “The idea of a Stark setting foot on Dragonstone—of all places—will drive her mad.”

Tywin’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Cersei’s opinions are of no consequence. She can seethe in King’s Landing while I ensure this house’s future.”

You folded your arms, leaning slightly against the stone battlement. “Still, she’ll see it as a betrayal. First me, now Jon. In her eyes, we’re all traitors.”

Tywin exhaled sharply, a sound that could have been amusement or irritation. “Cersei has always been blind to the larger picture. She clings to power with the desperation of a drowning woman, never realizing the waters are rising because of her own actions.”

You watched him closely, his words a rare glimpse into his thoughts about his daughter. “And you?” you asked softly. “How do you see this?”

“I see it as necessity,” Tywin replied, his tone measured. “The Boltons are finished, the North is once again Stark territory, and Jon Snow has proven himself capable. If an alliance with him strengthens our position, I’ll entertain it.”

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy with the weight of the past and the uncertainty of the future. The waves crashed below, their sound a steady rhythm against the silence that stretched between you.

Finally, Tywin spoke again, his voice quieter this time. “Do you trust him?”

The question caught you off guard, though you didn’t hesitate in your answer. “I do.”

Tywin’s gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he turned back to the sea. “Then let us hope your trust is not misplaced.”

You followed his gaze, the ships now close enough to make out the direwolf emblems clearly. The sight filled you with a strange sense of both hope and foreboding.

The wind carried the salty spray of the sea across the rocky shore of Dragonstone as Jon Snow and his men disembarked from their boats. Clad in dark furs and armor befitting the harshness of the North, they moved with quiet purpose, their eyes scanning the formidable fortress looming above them. Davos Seaworth stood at Jon’s side, his steady presence a stark contrast to the tense expressions of the other Northern men.

At the head of the welcoming party stood Tywin Lannister and you, flanked by Jaime, Varys, and a host of household guards and attendants. The Lannister crimson and gold stood out prominently against the dark grey skies and the volcanic black stone of the island. Tywin’s eyes were fixed on Jon, assessing the young man with the cold precision he was known for.

As Jon and his men approached, you stepped forward, breaking protocol with a determined stride. Jon’s grey eyes widened slightly as you closed the distance, your pale hair catching the light of the overcast sun. Before he could say anything, you enveloped him in a warm embrace, your arms wrapping tightly around him.

“Jon,” you said softly, though your voice carried enough for everyone to hear. “It’s been too long again.”

Jon stiffened, clearly uncomfortable under the gaze of so many powerful men. “It has,” he replied awkwardly, his arms hesitantly returning the embrace. His gaze darted to Tywin, whose expression was as unyielding as stone.

Davos cleared his throat, stepping forward to save Jon from further discomfort. “May I present Jon Snow, King in the North,” he announced, his tone formal but respectful.

At this, Tywin’s eyes narrowed slightly, his lips pressing into a thin line. Jaime’s healthy hand rested casually on his belt, his expression unreadable, while Varys watched with quiet curiosity.

You, however, seemed entirely unbothered by the title. Pulling back from the embrace, you took Jon’s face in your hands, your violet eyes scanning his features with a motherly intensity. “You’ve lost weight,” you said, your voice laced with concern. “And you’ve been fighting again. I can see it in your eyes.”

Jon’s cheeks flushed faintly, and he shifted on his feet. “I’ve had… responsibilities.”

“And you’re not taking care of yourself,” you replied firmly, brushing an imaginary speck of dust from his shoulder. “It’s just like when you were a boy. Always too serious.”

The Northern men behind Jon exchanged uneasy glances, unsure how to respond to the unexpected display. Even Davos looked slightly amused, though he wisely kept his expression neutral.

“Mother,” Jon said quietly, his voice tinged with embarrassment. “There are… people watching.”

You smiled warmly, unbothered by his discomfort. “Let them watch.”

Finally, you released him, your hand lingering briefly on his arm before you gestured for him to follow. “Come,” you said, turning back toward Tywin. “There’s someone you need to speak with.”

Jon’s gaze shifted to Tywin as he approached, the older man standing tall and unyielding as ever. Tywin’s piercing eyes locked onto Jon’s, his expression betraying nothing but a cold, calculating air.

“You must be Jon Snow,” Tywin said, his voice calm but edged with authority.

Jon nodded, his posture straightening under Tywin’s scrutiny. “I am.”

“You’ve come a long way,” Tywin remarked, his tone neither warm nor hostile. “And for a purpose, I presume.”

“I have,” Jon replied evenly, his gaze unwavering. “There’s much to discuss.”

Tywin studied him for a moment longer before nodding curtly. “Then let us not waste time.”

As Tywin turned and began walking toward the castle, Jaime fell into step beside him. Varys lingered near the back of the group, his watchful eyes taking in every detail.

You walked alongside Jon, your hand resting briefly on his arm as you leaned closer. “You handled that well,” you said softly, a faint smile playing on your lips.

Jon glanced at you, his expression softening slightly. “I’m not sure I did.”

“You did,” you assured him. “Tywin respects strength. Show him that, and he’ll listen.”

Jon nodded, though his shoulders remained tense. “And what about you? Will you listen?”

“I always have,” you replied, your voice gentle but firm. “And I always will.”

As the group ascended toward the fortress, the sound of the sea fading behind them, the weight of the impending discussions loomed heavy over everyone. But for now, Jon was here, and you were determined to stand by him, no matter what the future held. The North and the South were about to collide, and the world would never be the same.

The Painted Table in Dragonstone’s council chamber was a masterpiece of craftsmanship, its intricate carvings depicting every mountain, valley, and river of Westeros. The torchlight cast light over the map, making the painted seas shimmer as though alive. It was around this table that warlords and kings had planned their conquests, and now, another pivotal moment was unfolding.

Jon Snow stood at the far end of the table, his posture straight and resolute. Beside him, Davos Seaworth hovered silently, his experienced eyes scanning the room. Across from them, Tywin Lannister sat at the head of the table, his expression as cold and unreadable as ever. To his right, you sat with quiet grace. Jaime Lannister leaned casually against a pillar nearby casually like always, while Varys stood in the shadows, his hands clasped before him, a faint smile playing at his lips.

Jon’s eyes swept the room, taking in the power gathered before him. He drew a deep breath, his voice steady as he spoke. “I came here for justice.”

The room stilled, all eyes on him. Tywin’s gaze didn’t waver, though his fingers tapped idly on the edge of the table. “Justice,” he repeated, his tone carrying a faint edge of mockery. “A vague term, often misused. What form of justice do you seek, Snow?”

Jon’s jaw tightened, but he held his ground. “For the deaths of my family,” he said firmly. “For my father, who was betrayed and executed. For my brother, murdered at the Red Wedding. For my stepmother, who died defending him. House Lannister’s hands are soaked in Stark blood.”

The accusation hung heavy in the air. Jaime stiffened slightly but said nothing, his eyes flickering briefly to Tywin. You reached out and placed a hand on Tywin’s arm, a subtle gesture meant to steady the mounting anxiety.

Tywin leaned back in his chair, his expression as cold as steel. “Your grievances are well known,” he said coolly. “But war is not won by clean hands, nor by mercy. Your father, Eddard Stark, chose to defy the crown. Your brother, Robb Stark, declared himself King in the North and took up arms against the rightful king. The consequences of their actions were inevitable.”

Jon’s voice rose, a spark of anger flashing in his eyes. “The rightful king was a tyrant who murdered innocents. You chose to stand by him until it served you to betray him. Don’t speak to me of rightful kings, Lord Tywin.”

The room grew colder, the tension palpable. Tywin’s gaze narrowed, but his voice remained calm. “Mind your tone, boy. You stand here as a petitioner, not an equal.”

Before the tension could escalate further, you spoke, your voice gentle but firm. “Jon, this is not a battlefield. It’s a council chamber. Speak plainly, and let us find a path forward.”

Jon’s shoulders relaxed slightly, though his resolve didn’t waver. “Very well,” he said, his voice steady. “The North has bled enough for the South’s wars. We’ve fought for kings who’ve betrayed us, and we’ve been punished for our loyalty. I’ve come to demand two things: justice for my family and recognition of the North’s independence.”

A murmur of surprise rippled through the room. Jaime arched a brow, his expression one of faint amusement, while Varys’s smile widened ever so slightly.

Tywin’s lips thinned. “Independence,” he said slowly, as though tasting the word. “You seek to break the Seven Kingdoms apart.”

“The North is already apart,” Jon replied. “We’ve always been different—our customs, our gods, our way of life. The Iron Throne has brought us nothing but suffering. Let us govern ourselves, as we did before Aegon’s conquest.”

Tywin leaned forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “And what will you offer in return for this independence? Loyalty to a crown you no longer recognize? Trade agreements? Military aid? Or will the North retreat into its icy wasteland, leaving the rest of the realm to fend for itself?”

Jon met his gaze evenly. “The North will not retreat. We’ll fight for our survival and for the survival of the realm. But we won’t bow to a king—or a queen—who sees us as nothing more than a tool.”

You watched the exchange carefully, your heart torn between the two men. Jon’s words carried the weight of his father’s honor, but Tywin’s pragmatism was undeniable. Finally, you spoke again, your voice calm but resolute.

“Perhaps there’s a compromise to be found,” you said. “One that ensures the North’s safety and autonomy without severing it entirely from the realm.”

Tywin’s gaze flickered to you, his expression thoughtful. “Compromise is not my preferred method,” he said, though there was no malice in his tone. “But I am not blind to the value of the North.”

Jon’s jaw tightened, but he inclined his head slightly. “Then let’s find that compromise. But know this—I will not leave here without securing my family’s future. The North remembers, Lord Tywin.”

The room fell into silence once more, the weight of Jon’s words settling heavily over everyone. Tywin’s strategic mind was already turning over the possibilities, while you sat quietly, your heart heavy with the knowledge that this was only the beginning of a long and difficult road.

The Painted Table had seen the plans of conquerors and kings, but today, it bore witness to something far more uncertain—the hope for a future where the North and the South might find common ground, however fragile.

The day’s negotiations ended in stalemate, the members of the war council disbanded, each retreating to their respective quarters with heavy thoughts. No agreement had been reached between Tywin Lannister and Jon Snow, their views seemingly irreconcilable. Though composed, Jon’s frustration had been evident as he left the Painted Table, and Tywin’s silence spoke volumes about his unwillingness to compromise without gaining something in return.

As the sun set below the horizon, casting an orange glow over the Dragonstone courtyard, you sought out Jon. He was standing near the cliffs, gazing out at the crashing waves. His shoulders were stiff, his posture rigid as he appeared lost in thought. Beside him, Ghost sat vigilantly.

“Jon,” you called softly as you approached, one hand resting on Damon’s shoulder while the other cradled little Maelor against your chest. Damon walked beside you, his small feet padding softly on the cobblestones.

Jon turned at the sound of your voice, his brooding expression softening slightly as he saw you. His gaze flicked to the two children, his brow furrowing with curiosity.

“I thought you might like to meet your brothers,” you said warmly, gesturing toward the boys.

Jon’s lips parted slightly in surprise, but he quickly composed himself. “Brothers?”

You nodded, kneeling beside Damon to encourage him forward. “This is Damon,” you said, ruffling the boy’s silver-gold hair. “And this little one,” you added, lifting Maelor slightly, “is Maelor.”

Damon eyed Jon curiously, his eyes wide as he clutched a small wooden lion in his hands. Maelor gurgled softly, his tiny fists waving in the air.

Jon knelt to Damon’s level, offering a small, hesitant smile. “Hello, Damon,” he said gently. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Damon tilted his head, studying Jon for a moment before stepping closer. “You’re big,” he observed matter-of-factly, his voice innocent.

Jon chuckled softly, glancing up at you. “He’s observant.”

“He gets that from his father,” you replied with a faint smile.

Jon’s expression shifted at the mention of Tywin, though he quickly turned his attention back to Damon. “Do you like it here on Dragonstone?” he asked.

Damon nodded, his grip on his toy tightening. “It’s loud. The waves are loud. But I like Viserion. She’s big too.”

Jon’s brow arched in mild surprise. “You’ve seen her?”

“Seen her?” Damon echoed, his tone incredulous. “She’s my dragon!”

Jon glanced at you, a faint smile tugging at his lips. “Your dragon, is she?”

You laughed softly, adjusting Maelor in your arms. “He’s not entirely wrong. She’s protective of him. And of Maelor.”

Jon’s gaze softened as he looked at Maelor, who was now babbling happily. “They’re… beautiful,” he said quietly. “Both of them.”

“Thank you,” you said, your voice tinged with emotion. “They’re the reason I fight, Jon. For their future. Just as you fight for yours.”

Jon’s expression grew somber, his dark eyes meeting yours. “Do you think Tywin understands that?”

“He does,” you said after a moment. “In his own way. But he’s also a man who doesn’t give without taking something in return. It’s how he’s survived this long.”

Jon’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “The North isn’t something to bargain with. It’s my home. My people.”

“And Tywin sees it as a key piece of the realm,” you replied gently. “But that doesn’t mean there’s no hope. These things take time, Jon. And you’ve already proven yourself stronger than most.”

He sighed heavily, running a hand through his dark curls. “It feels like I’m fighting against a mountain.”

“Mountains can be moved,” you said softly. “But it takes patience and persistence.”

Damon tugged on Jon’s sleeve, drawing his attention. “Do you have a wolf?” the boy asked, pointing to Ghost.

Jon smiled faintly, reaching out to scratch Ghost’s ears. “I do. His name is Ghost.”

Damon’s eyes widened. “Can I pet him?”

Jon hesitated, glancing at Ghost. The direwolf stared back, his gaze calm and steady. “He won’t hurt you,” Jon said finally. “Go ahead.”

Damon stepped forward cautiously, reaching out to pat Ghost’s thick white fur. The direwolf remained still, his ears flicking slightly as the boy’s small hand stroked his side. Damon’s face lit up with delight.

“See?” you said, your smile returning. “Even Ghost knows you’re family.”

Jon chuckled softly, standing and watching as Damon continued to pet the wolf.

You and Jon Snow continue to stand on the edge of the courtyard, watching as Damon eagerly followed Ghost, his small feet pattering on the cobblestones as he giggled with delight.

Jon’s expression remained thoughtful, his eyes fixed on the horizon. “Do you truly think he’ll listen?” he asked quietly, his voice breaking the silence. “After all this—will Tywin Lannister agree to anything?”

You sighed, folding your arms as the weight of the question pressed on you. “Tywin is… complicated,” you admitted, your gaze shifting to the keep where the man in question likely sat in calculated thought. “He doesn’t respond to emotion or appeals to honor. He needs something tangible, something he can’t deny. Proof.”

Jon frowned, his brow furrowing. “Proof of what?”

“That the North’s independence won’t destabilize the realm,” you replied. “That the sacrifices he’s made to secure the Iron Throne’s dominance won’t unravel. Tywin’s a man who weighs everything in terms of power and legacy.”

Jon’s jaw tightened, his frustration evident. “How do you prove something like that? Winter is coming, the Long Night is coming—and if we’re not prepared, there won’t be a realm left to fight over.”

You turned to him, your expression softening. “I’ve tried to make him see that. I’ve told him about the things I’ve seen, the threats that are coming. But Tywin doesn’t believe in visions or warnings. He believes in what he can see and touch.”

Jon exhaled slowly, his hand running through his dark curls. “Then we’re already at a disadvantage. By the time he sees what’s coming, it’ll be too late.”

You placed a comforting hand on his arm, your voice firm but gentle. “Then we’ll find another way to prepare. Tywin may be slow to believe, but he’s not a fool. If he sees the North as an ally in what’s to come, he’ll act.”

Jon turned to you, his gaze searching. “And do you believe he’ll act in time?”

You hesitated, the weight of your own doubts pressing heavily on you. “I hope so,” you said finally. “For all our sakes.”

Damon’s laughter drew your attention, and you smiled faintly as the boy ran toward Jon, clutching a small stick in his hands. He held it out triumphantly, his violet eyes gleaming with excitement. “Jon! Look! I found a sword!”

Jon crouched down, taking the stick from Damon and examining it with exaggerated seriousness. “A fine weapon,” he said with a faint smile. “You’ll make a fierce warrior one day.”

Damon beamed, clearly pleased with the praise. “Can you teach me?”

“Damon,” you interrupted gently, your tone light but firm. “Jon has more important things to do than play swords with you.”

Damon’s face fell slightly, but he turned back to Jon with hopeful eyes. “Will you?”

Jon hesitated, glancing at you before returning his gaze to Damon. “Maybe later,” he said, his voice kind. “But for now, I need to talk to your mother.”

Damon nodded solemnly, though his excitement quickly returned as he turned back to Ghost, who was lying nearby with an air of patient tolerance. The boy reached out to pet the direwolf, his small hands running through the thick white fur.

You chuckled softly, shaking your head. “You’ve made an impression on him,” you said to Jon. “Don’t be surprised if he follows you all over the castle now.”

Jon smiled faintly, his eyes softening as he watched Damon. “He reminds me of Robb when he was little,” he said quietly. “Full of energy, always curious.”

You nodded, your heart aching at the mention of your late nephew. “He’s a lot like Robb,” you agreed. “And like you. Stubborn, determined, always asking questions.”

Jon’s gaze returned to you, his expression serious once more. “I’ll stay,” he said firmly. “I won’t leave until Tywin hears me out—until the North has what it needs. I owe it to my family, to the people who died for it.”

You reached out, placing a hand on his shoulder. “And I’ll stand by you, Jon. Whatever happens, you’re not alone in this.”

The two of you stood there for a moment, the weight of the coming battles heavy on your shoulders. Behind you, Damon’s laughter echoed through the courtyard as Ghost licked his face, the innocence of childhood a brief reprieve from the storm that loomed on the horizon. The North and the South were converging, and the future of the realm hung in the balance.

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fluentmoviequoter · 9 months ago

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Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader (Justice League Unlimited!Bruce)

Summary: When all adults are banished from earth, you join Batman, Superman, Wonder Woman, and Green Lantern in a unique fight to save the world. Along the way, some hidden feelings are revealed.

Warnings: spoilers/rewrite for Justice League Unlimited 1x3 "Kid's Stuff", fluff, mention of beheading, canon-level violence and action

Word Count: 3.1k+ words

A/N: I can't tell you how many times I've watched this show because Kevin Conroy's Batman in the DCAU tv shows is unmatched (and the kids who did the voice acting in this episode did phenomenally). I hope you enjoy and please let me know what you think!🤍

Part 2: Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids >

Picture from Pinterest

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You are in a unique position for several reasons. Being one of the only human members of the Justice League, you find yourself pushing yourself to be the best you can and ensuring that you can keep up with your superpowered teammates. Plus, you are one of the only people who knew Bruce Wayne before you knew Batman, and no matter how much he denies it, you knew after one look that the man under the cowl was none other than your favorite billionaire. When you first arrived on the Watchtower with your fellow vigilante, you wondered if any of the superheroes (especially those who had unique mind powers) could tell that you wanted to be more than fellow crime fighters with Batman. If they did, no one said anything, so your secret crush has remained secret as it grows stronger.

“Bats,” you warn as you duck away from Cheetah’s claws.

Bruce flips away from Deadshot’s line of fire before rushing up beside him. He punches under his jaw, and you watch as Deadshot lifts Bruce off the ground. Bruce throws a batarang, and you slide away from them as Deadshot falls to the floor.

“Guess that’s a wrap,” Green Lantern says. At Bruce’s look, he adds, “Sorry. Been hanging out with Flash too much.”

“I don’t see how that’s a bad thing,” you tease.

You look away from John and see three police officers entering the vault. A pink wave follows them inside, and your eyes widen when the officers disappear. Bruce pulls you to his side as John creates a forcefield with his ring, but it fails nearly as quickly as it appears.

When you open your eyes on a floating rock, you’re still tucked against Bruce’s side. You step back quickly and look around. Dozens of rocks surround you and each holds numerous people; adults only, you notice.

“It was judgment day,” Copper exclaims, “and- and we got sent to the bad place. The bad place!”

“Where else were you expecting to go?” you ask sarcastically.

“Snap out of it, Copper!” Cheetah demands as she slaps him.

“Yeah, calm down,” John calls. “We’re probably just in another dimension.”

“I don’t see any children,” Bruce says.

“You would be the one to notice,” you murmur. “It’s not a bad thing,” you add when he directs his bat glare at you.

“That’s because a child is responsible,” a woman wearing a mask interjects as she hovers above you.

“Morgaine Le Fay,” Bruce greets, though he’s prepared to fight rather than exchange niceties and introductions.

“Great, magic,” you mutter as you fall in line between Bruce and Diana.

“I mean you no harm,” Morgaine assures. “My son Mordred has wrought this treachery. Banishing all adults to this shadow realm.”

“Do you think Flash is here?” you whisper to John.

“50/50,” he answers.

“After I spent millennia feeding him, bathing him, preparing him to be a king,” Morgaine continues. “Where did I go wrong?”

“You’re a sorceress. Can’t you just undo his spell?” Diana asks.

“No. He’s got the amulet of first magic. He’s too powerful. But if we all work together…”

“You want us to defeat your own son?” Bruce clarifies.

“So don’t trust me. Let him rule the world and all your children. Here we will stay. Forever.”

“But what can we do? We’re stuck here, aren’t we?” Diana says.

“Please don’t say-“ you begin.

“Not exactly,” Morgaine answers.

“That,” you finish as your shoulders slump.

“The spell only banishes adults.”

“I don’t like where this is going,” you and John say together.

“It’s the only way,” Morgaine says.

“We have to do it,” Clark announces.

John exhales deeply, and you step back to be at Bruce’s side again. Magic has never been your preferred battle, and as Morgaine directs her spell at you and everything turns green, you clutch Bruce’s cape in your hand.

When you arrive in Mordred’s amusement park-turned-kingdom, you’re ready to leave. Being turned into a kid again wasn’t exactly on your superhero bingo card, and as a human, you don’t bring much to the fight anyway.

“I hope this is temporary,” Bruce complains.

You look over at him and feel butterflies in your stomach. Despite de-aging, you still have a crush on Bruce, but it hits harder and faster. You tear your eyes away from him and try to calm your racing heart. Each moment you live as a kid, you’ll start acting more like one.

“You sound weird,” Clark says. “Whoa. So do I.”

Diana looks between Clark and John before straightening her shoulders. She towers over them and smiles. “I kind of like this.”

“Why are you squinting?” you ask John.

Bruce, Clark, and Diana look over after you ask, and you drop your eyes to avoid looking at Bruce again.

“I wore glasses as a kid. Guess I need ‘em again,” John answers.

A pair of oversized green glasses appear on his face, and he jumps in surprise. They’re nothing like what adult John would create, and you stifle a laugh at the sight of them.

“I didn’t even try to make these!” he exclaims.

Clark laughs as Bruce says, “I hope not.”

You pat John’s back as he focuses on making nicer glasses. Once he’s ready and Clark compliments his new look, Diana reminds you that you’re supposed to be looking for Mordred.

“Bet the little punk’s in there,” Bruce says.

He points to the castle looming in the distance and begins running. You run behind him and watch as Diana, Clark, and John fly past you.

“It’s not a race,” Bruce grumbles.

He speeds up, but you keep your pace and make it to the castle all the same. Despite the earlier teasing about John’s glasses, none of you have mentioned any differences between the kid and adult versions of one another. You’re thankful, though, because reliving your childhood is not your favorite pastime. When you enter the castle, you stay behind Bruce as he stands beside Diana.

“The Justice Babies!” Mordred calls before laughing.

“What are you laughing at, precious?” Bruce asks.

“Precious?” you repeat.

“You,” Mordred answers. “Mother sent you, didn’t she?”

“Maybe she wanted a chance to have a normal kid,” you taunt.

“She shouldn’t send a boy to do a man’s job,” Mordred tells Bruce.

He grabs the amulet, and you watch as a young boy’s toys come to life. They grow until they’re giant, and you stumble backward before running for cover. When Clark flies into one of them and is knocked to the floor, you begin questioning if it was truly a good idea to become kids to fight a boy with powerful magic.

“Bruce, batarang,” you request.

He hands you one before running toward Mordred. You wait for one of the toys to run toward you before sliding between its legs.

“I’ll make a laser cannon. No, a missile launcher,” John says above you. “Oh! Oh, I know.”

“Just pick something!” you and Bruce yell together.

You dig the batarang into the back of the toy’s leg and roll to the side as it collapses to the ground before disappearing. Bruce and John take one out, while Clark disables the other with his laser vision.

When you hear Bruce grunting and see him dangling from his cape in the grip of the last toy, you gasp and run toward him. Diana beats you there and catches him.

“You okay, tough guy?” she asks.

“Let go. I’m fine,” Bruce demands as he struggles to get out of her hold.

His shoulders drop and his cape surrounds him as he sulks. You don’t ask the same question Diana had but thank him for the batarang as he passes.

“That’s not fair,” Mordred complains.

“Get him!” Bruce calls.

You run behind Diana and aren’t surprised when you’re all encased in ice. Mordred is powerful, and you and your fellow “Justice Babies” seem to be forgetting that. When you fall into a dungeon and are freed from the ice, you scoot toward Bruce. One of the cells opens, and red eyes glow within. You clutch Bruce’s cape and watch as a small demon walks out.

“Etrigan?” Bruce asks.

He steps away from you, and his cape slips through your fingers. You stay behind John’s forcefield as Diana lifts Bruce out of the way of Etrigan’s flame. Diana has been closer to Bruce during this mission than usual, and the butterflies in your stomach start causing more pain than happiness as you wonder if they’ve been hiding feelings for one another in the Watchtower, too.

“Don’t hurt him!” Bruce yells as Clark pulls Etrigan away from you and John.

Etrigan bites Clark’s arm, and he calls, “Tell him that!”

“C’mere,” you tell Etrigan. You crouch to the floor and pull him into your arms. “Stop!”

He calms down, and Diana helps Bruce up as Etrigan cries. You look at Bruce and shrug.

“He’s just a baby,” Diana says.

“And he needs more than a hug,” John adds, waving his hand in front of his nose.

“Now, that is a job for Superman,” Bruce says.

Bruce takes Etrigan from your arms and passes him to Clark. When Bruce takes your hand to lead you out of the dungeon, you nearly trip over your own feet. You’ve never been more ready to grow up before, you think.

Mordred’s new kingdom is comprised mostly of children doing what they were never allowed to do before. When you walk through the paths surrounding what used to be the center of the park, you are surrounded by children doing dangerous stunts and breaking rules.

“You two, knock that off!” Clark demands when he sees two boys playing with wooden swords.

“What are you gonna do? You’re just a kid,” they taunt.

Clark shoots a laser between them and answers, “I’m the kid with laser beams coming out of his eyes.”

“That’s just gonna scare them,” you interject before they run away screaming. “You can’t threaten kids the same way you threaten criminals.”

“Then what do we do?” John asks.

“Tattle,” Diana answers. She flies to an elevated area and yells, “That’s enough!”

Everyone freezes, and you find yourself reaching for Bruce.

“You can’t tell us what to do! You’re not our mom!” someone replies.

“No, but I promise you we will find all of your moms and I’m gonna tell!” Diana answers.

“Well, what should we do?”

“Go outside and wait for your parents. Now!” Diana demands with a hand on her hip.

“Man, your girlfriend sure is bossy,” John tells Bruce.

“Shut up,” he replies before leaving John’s side.

Those butterflies in your stomach become dead weight. You stall behind John, but he turns to look at you.

“You like Bruce,” he accuses.

“What? No!” you answer too quickly. “We’re friends.”

“Mmhmm.”

John gestures for you to come with him, and you follow Bruce together. You know that John knows more than he ever lets on, and if anyone found out about your crush, you suppose you should be glad that it’s the one who can keep a secret. Better him than Wally.

“He’s almost asleep,” Diana whispers as you look into Mordred’s hideout. “We can take him.”

“I’ll make a lawnmower and chew him up,” John suggests.

“A lawnmower?” you repeat incredulously. “Why?”

“I say we get that amulet away from him first,” Bruce says. “We’ll split up and sneak behind him. Then Lantern can do his thing. But no mowers.”

“Why?” John questions.

“Because it’s stupid,” Clark answers.

“He’ll hear it, too,” you whisper with much more kindness than Clark.

“I guess I’ll go with Clark,” Diana says. “Unless I should go with you,” she tells Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce answers.

John sees your eyes drop and says, “Clark can go alone. I’ll go with Diana.”

You appreciate it but shake your head because you don’t want to be left alone with Bruce.

“Whatever,” Bruce repeats.

“Go,” John whispers.

You lead Bruce around the side of the cave, and John shakes his head as he watches you go.

“What’s with them?” Clark asks.

“Really?” Diana questions.

“Man, for somebody with fifty different kinds of vision you are so blind,” John responds.

“What?”

“Is that a claw?” you ask Bruce as John tries to get the amulet.

“Unfortunately,” he answers.

He may be young, but his sarcasm hasn’t changed a bit. You lean against him when John’s claw wavers before disappearing. The amulet falls to Mordred’s chest, and Bruce moves you carefully as he calls, “Get the amulet!”

You join Bruce, Diana, Clark, and John in a failing attempt to hold Mordred down and take the amulet. He uses his magic to grow and throws Bruce and Diana off of him before standing. A young girl is standing nearby, and you take her hand to lead her to safety as the others fight Mordred.

“Bats!” you yell, just as you had as an adult this morning.

Bruce looks back and sees the living gargoyle chasing him and John and directs John toward a small bridge.

“Close the door!” you yell as Bruce enters the castle.

Diana closes and locks the door behind him, and you listen to John come up with complicated plans to stop Mordred as Bruce thinks.

“Forget it!” Bruce calls after John mentions giant handcuffs. “We’ve got to focus on…” Bruce’s eyes lock with yours and he says, “Never mind what I just said. We’ll take care of everything else. Lantern, you go crazy.”

“What are you going to do?” you ask.

“It’s time for all of us to grow up,” Bruce answers.

He takes your hand before running toward another area of the kingdom. Your butterflies begin reviving, and you wonder if anything will be the same after this.

“Go!” he yells to Clark.

Clark pulls the amulet from Mordred’s neck while he’s distracted by John before tossing it to Bruce.

“This is the most dangerous game of keep away I’ve ever played,” you yell as you take the amulet from Bruce and run it to Diana. Diana throws it to Etrigan, and you flinch when he bites into it. The wave of purple magic that escapes it is unsettling, but you don’t take your eyes off Mordred.

“I already absorbed too much of the amulet’s power,” Mordred says as he stands.

He uses his magic to suspend all of you, and Etrigan, upside down in the air. He pulls a sword from a nearby stone, and it turns purple before reappearing as a curved blade.

“I’ll take care of my kingly duty myself,” he declares.

“Is he really going to behead us in an amusement park?” you ask with your arms crossed over your chest.

“I’m scared,” the girl you helped earlier says. “I want my mommy.”

Mordred lowers his blade to say, “You don’t need a mommy. You’re better off without one. Trust me.”

“Ooh, mommy issues,” John muses. “Those ain’t easy.”

The girl begins crying and Clark taunts, “Some king.”

“I’m not impressed,” Diana agrees.

“What’d you expect? He’s a boy doing a man’s job,” Bruce finishes.

“You don’t know what it’s like being stuck as a kid,” Mordred says.

“Since you’ve had all that power, you could have been a man anytime you wanted. I think you’re too chicken to grow up.”

“Yep, big chicken. That’s what you are,” John agrees, flapping his arms like wings. “Bock, bock.”

“Face it, precious,” Bruce continues. “You like being a little mama’s boy.”

“I’ll show you!” Mordred yells. “I’ll show you all.”

“Sure, you will,” you agree with an eye roll.

“And when I am a true king, I’ll start with the human!” Mordred adds, pointing to you.

Bruce looks at you, but you keep your eyes on Mordred as he spreads his arms and is surrounded by purple ribbons of magic. Etrigan claps as Mordred’s spell spreads, and he reappears as a man.

“I’m older than you now,” Mordred says as he turns to face you.

The magic released his spell, and you catch yourself as you fall from the air.

“You sure are,” Bruce says.

Mordred disappears, banished by his own spell. As an adult, he couldn’t stay, and now you can only wait until Morgaine does her part. Bruce steps to your side and you turn your face toward him.

“Are you okay?” he asks.

“Yes,” you answer just before Morgaine appears.

“A bargain is a bargain,” she says as she waves her hand before you.

The spell is lifted, and you are an adult again in only a second. You hadn’t prepared for the change in size however and are pressed against Bruce’s chest with the sudden growth. He makes no move to get space from you, though.

“Mommy,” Etrigan coos at Diana.

She drops him and steps back. You chuckle at the scene and Diana looks at you with furrowed brows before smiling and rolling her eyes.

Morgaine opens a portal, and Bruce places a hand on your hip as he steps around you.

“Wait,” he calls. “What happened to Mordred?”

“My spell gave him eternal youth but now that he’s broken it all he has is eternal life,” she answers.

“Circumstances aside, it was kind of enjoyable to be a kid again,” Diana says.

You walk to Bruce’s side and watch the happy reunions of children with their parents.

“I’m sorry,” you offer softly.

“For what?” he asks.

“You just- you didn’t get to be a kid like the rest of us.”

“Perhaps Diana was right. It wasn’t completely unenjoyable.”

He turns toward you, and his arm is pressed to your shoulder.

“You’re telling me the big, bad bat had a little bit of fun?” you tease.

“You never talk about your childhood,” he deflects. “So, I’m sorry if this brought up bad memories.”

“Just dead butterflies,” you answer.

Bruce glares at you, but it’s the one unique to when he’s reading you.

“Is that why Lantern sent us off alone together?”

You look down as you nod.

“My butterflies are alive and well, and happy to wait for you,” Bruce murmurs.

“Butterflies or bats?” you ask.

“Should we be having this conversation in an amusement park?”

“You’re right. Let’s go to Metropolis and make the cover of the Daily Planet so Clark has to write all about it.”

Bruce sighs, but he takes your hand as he leads you outside the amusement park. He presses a button on his utility belt and the Batmobile pulls up a moment later.

“Bruce,” you say once you’re inside. “You were a really cute kid.”

“You were really bad at eye contact,” Bruce counters. “Or was that just with me?”

“I guess crushes aren’t just for kids,” you muse.

“Maybe Diana will stop pestering me to ask you out now.”

You nod as you watch the road before you. It takes a moment, but you finally understand what Bruce just said.

“What?”

#hanna writes✯#bruce wayne x fem!reader #bruce wayne x reader #jlu!bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne x y/n #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne imagine #dc comics x reader #fem!reader

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ephemerensis · 6 months ago

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Cologne // Tim Drake x GN! Reader

hay guys! where Tim Drake and Red Robin (ur bodyguard for the time being) smell suspiciously the same— it’s like you can’t even tell the difference! no angst, this took me so long oh my goodness i’m gonna stick to writing what i know. stay tuned for hurt/angst i have a lot of grievances to spit out! not proofread.

Part 2

—

Gotham was the last place you’d expected to be sent off to, but it’s where you found yourself now. Despite being disgustingly crime ridden, it was the center of trade, commerce, business, and more importantly— information. Which is precisely what you’d been sent to offer.

Your family’s company recently made a ground breaking discovery in pharmaceuticals, creating a drug that could limit the spread of cancer cells without traditional side effects; YB-V they called it. However, the by-product of production was much more severe, resulting in a chemical compound capable of mutating all the cells in a person completely to become something other as if they belonged to a different entity. Given the right motivations and means, the cells could be manipulated by a third party, turning them into fully conscious puppets of some sort.

With data leaks and security concerns, and the serious nature of the consequences if your drug had fallen into the wrong hands, you were sent to deliver the research and development to the production team personally; placed in charge of overseeing production until launch.

Which all sounded good in theory, but as you found yourself twiddling your thumbs in a blacked out office space, getting briefed on the gravity of the situation by a police task force with some vigilante character hanging around behind you, you began to question what it was all worth.

“So let me get this straight, an email between Wayne Corp and ourselves was leaked and now a couple big shot villains want to steal it? What kind of bad guy reads emails?”

A burly officer with a thick white mustache and a pair of square set glasses cleared his throat awkwardly, “That’s correct.”

“Some tech team,” you scoffed. “I’m the only one that can access any of the files, it’s all biometrically locked. While this certainly puts a damper on my day, we should be able to proceed normally.”

“They have your identity too,” the figure in the back voiced. Red Robin, you’d been informed, one of Gotham’s crime fighters in spandex (allegedly.) Up until now he hadn’t spoken a word, loitering while the police explained everything to you.

“Which is why we brought you here,” the commissioner pipped, reaching for his coffee mug as he spoke. “Red Robin has agreed to watch over your activities for the duration of your time in Gotham. For your safety, and ours.”

Have this guy tail you? As if. You were occupied enough without having a stranger watch your every move. A vigilante at that, it’s not like you could look at his resume and review his history.

“While that is a gracious offer, I have my own bodyguards. They’re well trained and—“

“Not for Gotham, you don’t.” Red Robin stepped out from the corner he’d situated himself in, arms crossed and a frown plastered on his face. “And unless you want to stay in a bunker for three months, I’m your best bet.”

Silence fell as you stared at the masked man, contemplating your options. The underground bunker was out of the question. On top of running production, you had a company to run and a reputation to upkeep; meetings, galas, charity events to attend. And as much as you hated to admit it, they had to be right. Gotham knows Gotham, and with the crises you’d witnessed on screen it was clear their criminals were on a polarly different level.

Pressing your hands to the table, you stood up and turned around, “I see. And you being around won’t make me more of a target?”

“Not even you would know I’m there.”

Closing the distance between the two of you in a few paces, you stuck your hand out to him, “In that case, I look forward to working with you Red Robin.”

Standing near him, the faint smell of lavender was imminent and something deeper lingered under it, an amber of some sort. It was pleasant; Red Robin had good taste in cologne. And that is all you needed to trust him.

It took a second for him to shake your outstretched hand. In your palm, his grip was firm, rough gloves pressing into your satin skin. Secure, you’d decided, secure and reliable.

And just as he’d promised, you hardly noticed him. On the contrary, you were also never attacked; not in the days following the abrupt meeting, nor the week after that, nor the month after that. There was the occasional mention of trouble, or something that went bump in the night— but whether it concerned you or not it didn’t matter. Nothing ever happened.

When he was tucked away it felt like he was really gone, not even the eerie feeling that followed being watched lingered. The only thing that drew you back into the reality was when you’d catch the scent of lavender lingering or in the few cases where he’d appear before you. In his absence you felt almost lonely, despite your work occupying it all. So you soon found yourself leaving notes.

“Bought coffee for the office.”

And he began to write back.

“Just black next time, thanks.”

…

“What’s your favorite color?”

“Cornflower blue.”

“That’s a dumb name. Your costume is red, I think you got out branded by Nightwing.”

“In my defense, I didn’t design it.”

…

He didn’t say much in them, nothing that you could glean in depth anyway. But you found yourself oddly pleased with his nothing. It’s not like you cared so desperately for his identity, that was his to keep of course. You did care for his presence. Something about it was magnetizing, and because he hardly appeared before you, these were the tidbits you found yourself drawn to.

Not that you’d kept them, he would see. Despite knowing the situation you were in, it still felt like a strange game— where he knew every detail about you, and you knew nothing of him. Your feelings, at the least, these you could keep on your own.

“Do you need lab access? I know you follow me in, but if there’s an emergency or something…” Production and distribution for YB-V was run by Wayne Corp and like all things related to your project it was kept secure in an underground bunker while you worked to transfer the information your company developed.

While the scientists and developers were mainly in charge of carrying out the project, none of it could move forward without you. The security system had been meticulously set up so that you, and only you, could access the files with the research and instructions. And beyond even your capabilities, every stage written into the plan had to be completed before the next could be unlocked. So you had to be there, supervise and guide them during the entirety of the process.

Archaic, you’d decided. But necessary according to the rest of the world.

Red Robin accompanied you on these trips. Being underground and all, it was one of the few moments he went with you rather than watching from afar.

“No, I’ll find a way in if I need a way in.”

You looked back at him questioningly. You didn’t doubt his capabilities of course, but he said it with such ease, “Is it that easy to break into? I should increase security.”

He scoffed, crossing his arms. “It’s secure. I’m the issue.”

You turned back around shaking your head with a snort. He was growing on you, sass and all. Stopping by a display of notes and charts, you looked them over to ensure they aligned with protocol.

“I have to attend a gala next week, by the way.”

He hummed in response, a couple steps behind you like he usually was when you visited the lab.

“It’s at Wayne Manor… and I can get you an invite. Security is stricter than it is here, I’ve been told. It’d be troublesome to sneak around.” Ruffling through the papers, you extracted the one you needed, holding it up to your face.

“And I don’t have a date,” you added.

“…are you asking me out?” You could hear a hint of a smile in his voice, making your face burn red at the accusation.

You set the paper down, abruptly whipping around with the most serious expression you could muster, “Strictly for my safety! I don’t know how credible everyone attending is and—“

The smile on his face shut you up. Embarrassed and slightly dejected you looked around the room for something else to lock eyes on, clearing your throat.

“I would’ve loved to, but I won’t be there. Something came up that I need to take care of. But like you said, security is strict, you’ll be safe,” he interjected before you could say anymore. Honestly you couldn’t even be mad, he let you down so sincerely you had to believe it. The small smile plastered on his face and the gentle tone he used in opposition to his usual curt one melted you down far more than you would’ve liked it to.

“Right.” It took you a second to cough anything out, like you were thirteen and starstruck again by any character that tossed you a bone, “so much for you or the bunker, I could’ve hired the Waynes’ security.”

But you were disappointed, and his answer did surprise you. Busy? He hadn’t left your side your entire stay as far as you were aware, granted you couldn’t see him 95% of the time, but in principle.

He must’ve picked up on your downtrodden state because he leaned in teasingly, that familiar lavender scent washing over you, “You have your own bodyguards though, right? They’re well trained.”

You wondered what color his eyes were behind the mask, a warm brown or a melancholy blue. Either way you’d decided you were done for, his were the type of eyes you could drown in; “Not for Gotham, I don’t.”

The night of the gala you didn’t expect much. You were supposed to represent your company of course, as their Gotham socialite, and you were to meet with your business partner. Up until now everything had been transactional, taken care of on invisible ends. Which was fine, but to maintain business relations you had to show up to these things.

And so it was about as dry as you’d thought it to be. Most of everyone was twice your age, many were so stuck in their desire for affluence it radiated off of them like maggots in a burn pile. Supposedly it was a charity gala, in reality it was an egoistic echo chamber and you were in no position to defy it.

Flitting around you sipped your champagne and made conversation and promises that didn’t matter until a hand graced your shoulder with the lightest touch, it felt almost invisible. Turning around you saw a boy with raven hair and the tamest of blue eyes. And he looked to be around your age, a moment of respite at last.

“Hi,” he breathed the word into a smile that was dazzlingly honest and strikingly warm in juxtaposition with the mood of the room.

“Hi,” you shook the hand he offered to you. His hands were rougher than you’d imagine an aristocrat’s to be, littered with callouses you attributed with a dedication to some sport, “I’m Y/N, I don’t think we’ve met before?”

“Sort of, I’m Tim.” In your correspondence with Wayne Corp, Tim had been your main contact; at least for big ticket decisions. In other words, he was your collaborator and your business’ partner. In your head you recalled all the times you poked fun at the archaic way he wrote his emails, like he was 52 and balding— in reality he was just the opposite.

“Oh! It’s nice to finally meet you! Thank you for working with us, we couldn’t have progressed this far without Wayne Corp.”

“On the contrary, thank you for trusting us. This project’s been a huge safety concern for you I’ve heard.”

You laughed, shaking your head, “Not at all! I have one of the best vigilantes in the city.” But this, he should’ve already known. Red Robin had to be cleared for access to certain things, and you’d corresponded as much through your emails. “I must say though, I was disappointed it wasn’t Nightwing at first, he used to be my favorite.”

Tim blinked at you for a spell and you couldn’t read his expression. Pleasant and cordial with some twinge of underlying distaste was the best way to describe it, something in the way his eyes glinted with a malice behind his smile. “Has that changed?”

He must love Red Robin.

“I suppose,” growing on you was an understatement. It was a strange ordeal because he wasn’t real. No name or title you could address, but everything you learned about Red Robin made you want to know more about Red Robin. He was magnetizing. “Have you met them? Is it a normal Gotham thing?”

“No,”his response came swiftly, “they’re usually in other parts of the city and I’m never out at night. Married to the office.”

“I see.” That would explain the emails.

“Do you… want to dance?” He extended his hand to you graciously, but with a gentle hesitance that made him seem softer than he was. In a way you felt like you were betraying your vigilante delusionship, but he hadn’t agreed to go with you and Tim was charming enough. Besides, business relations.

“Of course.” Placing your flute of champagne on a nearby table, you took his arm as he led you to the floor. He smiled in a demure sort of way that made your heart flutter like the excitement you’d felt interacting with Red Robin. Maybe you just liked the attention that much, that must be the correlation between the two.

“Do you know how to waltz?” Typically galas didn’t have much dancing at all, let alone organized ballroom dancing, but leave it to the Waynes to find a way to stun the crowd with their class and extravagance.

“Sort of, I’ve taken rudimentary classes.” Like when you were five.

“Perfect,” he grinned. He placed his hand faintly on the small of your waist while the other found purchase in your opposing palm, “I’ll lead. Just follow along, you’ll be fine.”

Miraculously you were fine. You started out with your eyes glued to the floor, following after him and avoiding his toes. But once you’d gotten into a rhythm, it all felt like floating.

“You haven’t stepped on my toes once,” he joked. Up close and under the mesmerizing ballroom light he looked angelic, the way the light caught in his lashes and the reflected off the blue of his eyes—like little golden flecks glimmering under supple flowing rivers.

“I’ve been trying not to!” you laughed.

“You look beautiful,” as if his eyes could get any more mesmerizing, they softened somehow with his words, “outfit and all.”

“Thank you,” at this you averted your gaze, and prayed the lighting didn’t highlight the flush of your cheeks. Out of being flustered or embarrassment, you didn’t know. On the one hand, a rich, beautiful, respectful man was complimenting you. On the other, you were wearing cornflower blue because it was someone else’s favorite color. Like you were twelve again and going to some middle school dance where you wanted to impress your hallway crush.

“Your Getty pictures don’t do you justice,” he continued. “Don’t get me wrong, I haven’t seen one bad photo, but you always look so serious and intimidating.”

It never occurred to you he’d Googled you before, it made sense now how he was able to single you out in the crowd. Maybe the thought was so foreign because you’d never paid him any mind, but now you were thinking you should’ve. At the very least because it’s polite and helpful to know the bare minimum, but if you were honest with yourself it’s because he struck a curiosity in you that needed to be sated—too breathtaking to be real and all you’d known was his face and arresting demeanor.

“Because I am serious and intimidating, I’m very good at my job you know. You’re not the only one married to an office,” you boasted. In reality you hated work, but worse still was posing for pictures. Especially at crowded social functions your parents ushered you to where you didn’t know a soul, you simply didn’t know what to do with yourself in front of a camera—that was your excuse anyway.

“That explains the dancing,” he quipped with a sideward smile.

Your eyes widened slightly in shock as your mouth fell open to scoff. “Hey! I thought I was doing pretty good!”

He burst into a contagious laughter that hypnotically made you follow suit. But you wouldn’t settle for that after all your efforts to keep up. With a look to the wayside, you pretended to lose touch of the tandem between your steps and lurch forward, consequently stepping on his polished brown loafers. And then it was his turn to be shocked.

“Woah! So much for trying,”Tim teased. Not that he lost his footing, he was as stable as ever. In his eyes you swore there was a glint of mockery, as if he knew and anticipated it.

“Oh did I hurt you,” you feigned concern before slipping into the most innocent smile you could muster. “I’m a terrible dancer, I can’t help it.”

“Aren’t you petty?”

“You have no idea.”

“Petty and pretty, how dangerous.”

Before you could fire some witty retort you noticed your steps slowing to a halt with the swoon of the music. He’d brought his hand above you to spin you once, slowly. The other on your waist moved to your lower back to support you as he pulled you into a dip and all you could do was follow. Something about the atmosphere had your heart palpitating. Or maybe it was the way he was looking at you, like you were an art piece on display, overhead light illuminating behind him as he stared down at you like an angel emerging from the heavens.

Sundering you to the earth, you couldn’t fixate your eyes on anything else, and though it was only for a moment it felt like eternity. You were close enough now for the scent of his cologne to waft over you faintly amongst the throng of strongly powdered people in the room. Lavender. A familiar lavender with all the base notes that’d been lingering around you for the past few weeks. Your look of awe faded to confusion.

Red Robin’s.

“Is that—“

But he wasn’t looking at you. Instead you followed his gaze down to your chest, eyes widening as you saw the little red laser mark hovering over your heart. Before you could react, you felt the air get knocked out of your lungs as Tim shoved you away. The sound of the gun firing pierced cleanly through the noise of the glitz and glamour, and something burned across the skin of the side of your arm.

You couldn’t tell if it was broken glass that cut you or something else, you couldn’t feel much of anything with the adrenaline flooding your body. Scared and discombobulated, you scrambled backwards as panic set into the crowd.

In the midst of the onset of gunshots and people scattering towards exits, Tim had rushed over to you. Kneeling beside you, he gave you a quick look over and gently pulled you up by your uninjured arm. As soon as you were up he rushedly dragged you away from it all, winding through the hallways of the manor wordlessly. Though it was probably for the better, because you didn’t have an ounce of air left in your lungs trying to keep up with his pace or a thought in your head after what you’d just witnessed.

The further you trudged along, the heavier your limbs felt and the harder it was to pry your eyes open after blinking. Which was strange, you hadn’t lost so much blood, but it must’ve been the confusion of it all or something you ate. A couple halls and turns later you arrived at a room. He ushered you inside, seating you on the bed before rummaging through the drawers.

“Are you alright? Does it hurt badly?” from the drawer he procured a bandage. He sat himself next to you, promptly wrapping the cloth tightly around your arm.

“No, it’s not bad,” truthfully it felt numb, which you couldn’t decide was a good or bad thing. You couldn’t think much of anything, focused on keeping your eyes from fluttering shut.

“I should’ve known they’d do something,” he’d muttered. As he finished, pushing himself off the bed, your head suddenly felt too heavy to hold up and your eyes too tired to function.

“Hey… are you okay? You don’t look so good.” He pressed the back of his hand to your forehead, feeling nothing abnormal and deepening his concern. But you couldn’t process what he was saying. With a lilt, you fell to your side, feeling the injunctive relief of not having to hold yourself upright.

He undid your bandages to look at the wound again before scowling as it dawned on him, “Tranquilizers.”

After rewrapping your arm, he hurriedly stalked towards the door, “You’ll be safe here, I’ll send someone.”

With whatever consciousness you had left you managed to slur a sentence, “Where are you going?”

“To find my brother.”

If he said anything after you didn’t hear it, because the moment your eyes fluttered shut, they stayed shut.

You didn’t know how long you were out. Not terribly so. When you’d awoken, it was still dark out. Tim must’ve flicked the light off when he’d left too, the only light that flooded in was from the streetlamp out the window. The drugs hadn’t cleared your system yet if the pounding in your head and brain fog you were experiencing was any indicator. And they didn’t even hit you directly, who knows where you’d be if they did.

In the streets you could hear the panic of people and the wail of police sirens, which would’ve settled your stomach if not for the fact that it clearly wasn’t over and the police weren’t entering.

You jerked your head towards the door as a loud thud sounded just outside of it. Looking around the room for a place to hide, there was none. And if there was one, you couldn’t see it with the lights out. Some commotion followed before what sounded like a body hit the floor.

Not knowing what else to do, you wrapped yourself in the bedding, pulling it to the floor behind the bed and huddling there. At the very least, no one knew you were in there but Tim, and surely he’d locked the door.

Nope.

The sound of the knob turning made your blood run cold. You drew the blankets tightly around yourself, hoping you’d amalgamate into the cloths if you’d clutched them tightly enough.

With the bed obscuring your view, you couldn’t see the perpetrator and you didn’t want to. You screwed your eyes shut as footsteps creaked on the wood pacing towards you. Against your will, you hands couldn’t cease trembling and you wondered if the other person in the room could hear your heart beating out of your chest.

This was it. If someone wanted to swoop in, now would be great.

The footsteps halted on the opposite side of the bed. You considered jumping out at them, throwing the blanket and bolting for it, but your limbs felt like they were filled with lead. And in any case, if they were armed you were done for anyway. So you held your breath and willed them away instead.

To your horror they’d started again in your direction. Silence. And then a hand touched the blanket and you couldn’t help it, you shrieked and covered your head with your arms.

But instead of force or a bludgeoning, they’d knelt in front of you, gently grabbing your arms as you thrashed. A familiar voice called your name out a couple times before you recognized it and opened your eyes.

“Hey, hey, hey, it’s me! You’re okay,” in the dark you couldn’t really see his face but it was Tim’s voice that called to you. Delirious and reeling, the relief flooded your body so intensely, the tears didn’t even have time to well before they were streaming down your cheeks.

Throwing your arms around him, you sobbed for all you were worth, “I was so scared, why’d you just leave me!”

You felt him stiffen beneath you at the sudden intrusion before softening and patting the back of your head with a gloved hand. “I’m sorry,” he whispered.

And it felt so safe there, in his arms, secure but soft all at once. The familiar lavender mixed with the champagney smell from the gala soothed you in a way you’d never thought you’d needed.

“I thought they were gonna get me,” you choked out between sobs. This was in no way attractive, “and then I’d get kidnapped, and everyone would turn into puppets!”

“I’m sorry,” he said again. Not mocking or laughing at you like your more awake self would’ve expected, he was mellow about the whole thing. Sorry and really sorry for it—and it wasn’t even his fault.

When you calmed down enough to sound coherent, he pulled back to wipe the tears from your cheeks.

“Let me see that,” he nodded towards your bandaged arm. You stretched it out for him and he undid the gauze, “This doesn’t look too bad. Shouldn’t scar.”

Procuring new dressings, he took his time with it this time, applying a salve before wrapping it around you again.

“Tim?” you said his name just to say his name, because you liked the way it felt to say and you wanted to hear him speak. Instead he paused before resuming his work, “I’m Red Robin.”

“Oh.” That’s embarrassing. You were so certain of it too, but he did say he would send someone and he was probably with his family or waiting outside for things to settle. So instead you got the infinitely intangible Red Robin, “I thought you were busy.”

“Plans changed.” He was never this curt with you, not after knowing you anyway. He had to maintain secrecy, you knew this, but he’d find ways to say more anyway.

You flinched as he constricted your arm with the bandage, “You’re pulling it a little tight.”

This made him pause again, letting go of the wrap altogether this time as the circulation breathed back into your marrow.

Exhaling, he ran a hand through his raven hair, “I’m sorry.”

You blinked at him, still fighting to keep your eyelids open but worried nonetheless. This was unlike him, “Red?”

“Sorry, I’m just on edge. I should’ve known, I could’ve prevented this,” shaking his head, it was if he made up his mind, “Everything is transferred now, the project can wrap up without you. We’ll get you on the next flight back tomorrow.”

Somewhere in you an inkling of anger stirred, as if you were an object that could be sent as needed. But the strain in his voice was evident, how could hold a grudge against that? “I don’t want to leave yet.”

“You’re going.”

You huffed, “I’m not. And you don’t have to watch me anymore if it’s too much, I never expected that from you! You’re here now, you didn’t have to be, but you are— that’s more than my useless bodyguards or Wayne security have done and they’re paid for it. You put up with me and nothing has happened to me. I’m sorry for being so vulnerable, that’s my fault. Don’t you dare berate yourself, you haven’t done one wrong thing!”

He said nothing, just stared at you with something like curiosity. Under the pale moonlight and with his face obstructed you could only speculate.

You stuck out your injured arm to him again, urging him to take it, “Hurry and finish, I’m still sleepy.”

Wordlessly he finished binding your arm. As soon as he was done you fell on his shoulder, closing your eyes.

“Tim—“

“I’m not Tim,” he reiterated. There was something in his tone that you couldn’t quite place; annoyance?

“Oh,” you mumbled, feeling sleep creep up on you again, “you smell the same... I think I like him.” Surely it’s fine to confess this much, or that’s what you told yourself as you started to drift off, words slurring and thoughts blurring, “you should meet him, he’s a big fan.”

—

i have a final in 5 hours please with me luck (it’s 2am)

#tim drake fanfic #tim drake #batman #dc #tim drake x reader #red robin x reader #tim drake x gender neutral reader #tim drake fluff #tim drake imagine #bodyguard trope #i can’t write like this #stick to what you know

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dilemmaontwolegs · 1 year ago

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Belle Mort || LN4

AN: this was deep in the archives of abandoned fics but figured I’ll just post it anyway.

Pairing: Lando Norris x vampire!fem!reader

Summary: Your paths weren’t meant to cross - he was a famous driver and your brethren were the thing of myths and nightmares.

Warnings: smut, major character death

He didn’t belong here.

You could only surmise Vinny let him in the club because he knew an easy target when he saw one. Rich, young and handsome - he was ripe for the taking. A part of you knew not to get involved but, unlike your brother, you had a small conscience, especially when it came to the pretty, blue-eyed man who had shared your bed.

Making your way across the busy dance floor of Belle Mort, you snaked between the women who were selling themselves to the richest man one sway of their hips at a time. You slapped away roaming hands that tried to pull you into their laps and glared at the men until they looked away with wounded egos.

Your brother spotted the target and you stepped lightly in your high heels as you dodged the revellers, finally making it in front of the handsome man. “Qu'est-ce que tu fais, garçon perdu?”

Lando smirked as he cast his eyes over your body, the tight fitted dress hiding very little of the body he knew intimately. “I don’t speak French.”

“I know.”

His hand caught your waist and pulled you closer, his lips brushing your cheek. “You didn’t call me.”

You rolled your eyes at the need that laced his words, but it would have been a lie to say you hadn’t thought about it. You had even kept his number when you should have deleted it. Your worlds were so far apart you didn’t see the point in making it more than a one night stand, it was safer that way. “I know. Find another bar.”

“I like this one.” His hand tightened and his thumb brushed over your ribs, tracing the curve under your breast. His smirk grew as he felt your ribs expand with the sharp intake of air you took.

“You’ve never been here before.”

“How do you know that?”

“Because I own it.”

“Co-own, dear sister,” Nix added as he stepped to your side. “And if Lando wants to party then who are we to deny him.”

You narrowed your eyes at your brother. “It’s bad for business.”

“Why? Because you mixed it with pleasure,” he laughed as he ruffled your hair, cracking your neck as he pushed you away to leer at the man himself. “I can see the appeal. No one can deny you have good taste, it’s just a shame you always leave them broken.”

“What’s he talking about?” Lando asked as he helped keep you steady from your brother's push.

“Nix has always been jealous of me, haven’t you?” you taunted him. “Always wanted my dolls for himself.”

Nix’s jaw ticked and if the music wasn’t so loud you probably could have heard a tooth break. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

“I’m on a break,” you stated, catching Lando’s attention as you grabbed his wrist and started to drag him to your office before freezing. Your hand met bare skin and you held your hand out to your brother. “Give it back. Now.”

Nix rolled his eyes but reached into his pocket to return the watch he had easily lifted from Lando. The glass and diamond face slapped into your palm but you curled a brow at him and cleared your throat, waiting for the rest.

“You really used to be more fun,” he grumbled as he returned Lando’s wallet too. “Don’t worry, the condom is still in there.”

“And the cash?”

“I don’t think that is really your worry, but yes, cash too.”

Nix disappeared into the crowd and even you found it difficult to trace his movements but he was one of the fastest vampires you knew.

“Interesting family you have,” Lando commented as the music was cut off with your office door.

“You should be more careful,” you warned as you slid the security chain onto the latch. “This side of town could get a guy like you killed.”

“A guy like me?” he asked as he accepted the whiskey you poured, neat. “Handsome?”

“Well known,” you corrected, despite his knowing smirk. Of course you found him handsome, or else you wouldn’t have let him fuck you in the bathrooms of another nightclub in the city. You had a business meeting, with a wolf no less, and the owner had left you displeased, so you found another form of pleasure in his den. “Where you go, pictures are taken. That is bad for my business.”

Who knew what illegal activities those pictures or videos might capture and be uploaded. Voices had been silenced for less in the dark alleys around the club - but the bodies were never found.

Lando took a sip as he weighed your words of warning, but it didn’t stop him wanting to go another round with you. He knew you were different from the moment he saw you. Determination and strength rolled off you as you stalked through the club to a door labelled ‘staff only’. A different look of determination had been seen when you emerged, scanning the crowd for someone to use - he had come to the club for the same reason.

“I can be invisible, when I want to be,” he promised as he followed you to the desk you leaned back on, crossing your heeled ankles in front of you. He placed the glass on the wood beside you and smelt the smooth spirit on his breath when he kissed the corner of your lips. “But I wanted you to notice me, again.”

His hand ran down your thighs and your ankles uncrossed. He took the space given and parted your legs so he could step between them and steal your moan with his kiss. His tongue parted your lips with the same confidence he parted your legs and he hummed when your hands slipped under his shirt, your nails dragging down his spine.

“I’m going to fuck you on your desk and every time you have a meeting here you will think of me.”

Desire pooled between your thighs at the promise and when his fingers found your body bare beneath the dress he felt it slick and warm. “You like that idea don’t you?” he chuckled in your ear, the deep timber of his gravelled voice making you clench around his fingers before they withdrew from you. “Turn around.”

For a woman who considered herself to be the bossy one, you were quick to follow his instruction and it didn’t go amiss from the smirk on his face. “I don’t remember you being this demanding last time,” you said over your shoulder, feeling the air on your skin as he pushed your dress up over your hips.

“That’s because you looked like you needed it more than me.” He flipped his wallet open and pulled the condom out, tearing through the foil packaging before rolling it down his hard length. With one swipe of his arm he cleared space on your desk and started to push you down before he changed his mind and spun you to face him. “Actually, I want to see your face when I make you come.”

The mahogany wood was hard under your ass and you spread your knees for Lando to step between. His cock pressed to your entrance and he watched your lips part as he slowly began to stretch you, inch by inch, until he was fully sheathed inside you.

“You’re going to call me, aren’t you?” he asked with the teasingly slow retreat he made. He stopped just short of leaving you empty and made no move to fill you again. “I’m not going to fuck you until you answer me.”

You tried to shuffle your hips closer but he held them tight and your feet were off the ground so you couldn’t move, not without revealing your unnatural strength. Finally a frustrated sound left your lips and he smiled triumphantly when you agreed. “Now would you please fuck me?”

He answered with the snap of his hips and you moaned in unison as he filled you completely. The computer screen came to life and the mouse moved with the rocking desk and the cup of pens tipped over, scattering among the mess he had already made. Stars danced across your vision and your body pulsed with the deep bass that made it through the soundproof door.

“Lando,” you moaned as you tipped his head back, baring his neck as you felt your canines elongating behind your lips. The throb of his rapid pulse invited you to taste him and you dragged your nose over the vein, inhaling the rich scent hidden beneath his cologne. “You shouldn’t have come here.”

He shivered as your teeth grazed his skin but he was too far gone in his pleasure to question the sharp points. Just a little sip, you told yourself.

Lando gasped as pain flared, but just as quickly as it came it bled to a burn that felt better than any high he had ever had. He couldn’t breathe as you sucked at the puncture wounds, filling your belly with the same need you had for his cock.

He couldn’t explain how he found himself sat on the couch in your office with you on his lap, he had only blinked. You were high on him, making silly errors like using your speed and strength carelessly. You weren’t new to this life, but you were acting like it with him.

“Why did you come here?”

His head fell back and his eyes closed as you took your pleasure in riding him. He couldn’t think, there was only the tight feeling in all his muscles as his orgasm threatened to shatter him beneath you. “Just wanted you,” he choked as he bucked his hips up to meet you. “Again.”

You cried out as your climax peaked and Lando followed, unable to hold back with how tight you felt around him. Your head spun as the high receded, but you wanted more - it was the curse of immortality, you always wanted more.

You turned his head and struck again, lapping at the twin lines of life blood running down his collar. Cursing inwardly, you realised you were taking too much, you always took too much when you played with your food. Lando’s eyes fluttered shut and his breathing laboured, his skin fading before your eyes. Nix was right, you always left them broken.

“Fuck,” you growled at the thought of losing another man. Tearing the skin from your wrist you made what was possibly the second biggest mistake of your life, the first would always be asking for this life. Your blood was thicker and darker than his, staining his lips as you squeezed it out before the wound could heal.

“Wake up…” You prayed you weren’t too late, the seconds ticking by with quiet reassurance that time would continue to move on even if Lando never did again.

—

Nix crashed through the office door as dawn approached and the club closed. His black eyes found Lando’s body on the couch and a sneer carved across his lips. “What a waste.”

You barely lifted your head from your hands as you sat at your desk. You had felt lethargic from a full belly and drained veins. “I didn’t mean to.”

“You never do,” he snickered. “There will be people looking for him, I’ll have Vinny dump him in the marina - another rich boy who partied too hard.”

Lando gasped as he jolted upright, his eyes ringed red from the transformation, and a war waged within you. Rage exuded from Nix as he realised the danger you had put the entire coven in and his features sharpened as his fangs pierced his lips. “You would bring the Council down on our heads, sister?”

“I said I didn’t mean to. I just couldn’t stand to see another die because of my weakness.”

“I would rather you have just killed him.” Nix pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. To change a human required petitioning to the Council, and permits were rarely given this century - and certainly not to those well known. People tend to notice when someone doesn’t age at the same rate: Jennifer Anniston, Cillian Murphy, Paul Rudd, Joseph Gordon-Levitt. Those half breeds could get away with it for a little longer but they would soon be faking their own deaths to keep the secret of their heritage.

“Take him to the mountains,” Nix said as he crossed the room to where Lando writhed in pain on the carpet, the transition destroying his delicate human cells for something much more robust. “I’ll tie up the loose ends here.”

Nix took the car keys from Lando’s pocket and checked his watch. There was still enough time before dawn came to wreck the car off the cliffs and into the French Riviera. When the car was found empty they would assume his body was carried out to sea. Lando Norris was dead. Lando de Belle Mort had risen.

#lando norris fanfic #lando norris imagine #lando norris x reader #vampire!reader #f1 fanfic #f1 imagine #formula one imagine #formula 1 fanfic #formula one fanfiction

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bri-cheeses · 5 months ago

Text

Our Little Secret - Part 2

| Rosekiller microfic | Word count: 787 | Part one is here |

“Can’t you just tell me plainly like any other normal person?”

Evan ignored that.

“Ravenclaw party. Fourth year.”

“What?” Barty asked, shocked back into bewilderment once more.

“That’s when I figured out I liked guys.”

Barty’s response was a beat late. “Uh… okay?”

“Do you want to know how?” Evan pressed. He took a step forward. He wasn’t sure whether he was gratified or angry that Barty took a step back.

“Yeah, sure,” Barty huffed. “Whatever gets you to finally spit it out.”

Evan closed his eyes. Barty’s barbed words were almost enough to stop him from saying it, but he had already made up his mind. And he doubted that their relationship could really be salvaged now that they had both managed to mess it up so terribly, so really, there was nothing holding him back anymore.

He opened his eyes slowly, calling to mind dim lights, bad music, and too many teenagers in one space. He took a deep breath.

“You were dancing with this girl,” he began slowly. “I don’t even know who it was, because I didn’t spare her a second glance. Not when you were there next to her, dancing and smiling like you were having the time of your life. And then you looked back over to me and somehow you smiled even wider, then gave me this stupid little wink and in that moment all I could think was how much I wanted to kiss you.”

Barty’s breath hitched. Evan ignored it.

“Olivia Gleaves, fourth year again. The first ever girlfriend you had, who I hated so fiercely that Cas had to corner me and tell me to knock it off, that you were my best friend, yes, but that didn’t mean I could feel entitled to being your number one person all the time. And so I shut up and stopped glaring and I was a good little “best friend” until you two broke up three weeks later.”

“Barret Fay, fifth year. The first guy you ever kissed. Coincidentally, I broke my hand that night, and a dent found its way into the wall. Lucky for me, I suppose, that we had a big Transfiguration paper due the next day and I could easily write it off as frustration with schoolwork.

“December 16th, fifth year. We got caught under the mistletoe, and instead of laughing it off and kissing me on the cheek like you had with every single one of our friends, you refused to even touch me and spent the dinner afterwards eating in complete silence, and I made sure to never walk through doorways with you again during the holiday season.

“Cooper Covenhelm, sixth year. The first actual boyfriend you ever had, and the first guy to threaten me to stay out of the way and to not talk to you unless I absolutely had to. So I took the back burner for the next two months and let Regulus fill in as your best friend, then tried not to let anything slip when you finally cornered me and asked why I had been avoiding you. I don’t remember what I said, but you broke up with Cooper a week later and I felt so relieved I could hardly breathe.

“There are a bunch of other things I could talk about. The runs I started going on just to get a break from you and clear my head. All the people who threw themselves at me but I rejected because I was too hung up on someone else. The way Regulus figured it out at the end of last year and actually looked sad on my behalf, because, I’m assuming, he knew how impossible it was, too. The fact that I lied about what I smelled in Amortentia, the way literally everyone else in our friend group has figured it out, that time that you accidentally stole one of my shirts and I didn’t say anything because I liked how you looked in it… the way you kissed me last night, then told me just now that it was a mistake and I should keep quiet about it.”

“So you’ll excuse me if I’m a little angry right now. But I’m sure that you’re right. It was a mistake, and I’ll keep quiet about it because that’s what I’m best at, isn’t it?”

Evan waited a beat for Barty to say something, then shook his head when nothing came. He should’ve known better than to expect anything, honestly.

“I’m going to breakfast,” was all Evan said. And he turned around and walked away, cursing Barty for never being able to see him as anything more than a friend, and hating himself for hoping that he ever would.

(Part three)

#rosekiller #evan rosier #barty crouch jr #slytherin skittles #marauders era #rosekiller microfic #my microfics

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w4w4lycsss · 5 months ago

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ok i just had an idea from morgie x reader

Maybe where Morgie and Reader's children travel to the past with Chloe and Red, where they try to get to know them more since in the future their Morgie and Reader separated just like Hades and Maleficent I don't know xd

I clarify that if there is something wrong with the writing, it is that I do not speak English and I am using the translator.

ANNOYING CHILDREN | MORGIE LE FAY

summary: You and Morrie meet your twin children without yet knowing that they are your children, looking more like two annoying twins wanting to know everything about your relationship. Pairing: Morgie Le Fay x male!VK!reader a/n: It's like one in the morning in my country, it's not my best work in terms of narrative

You were proud to have earned the respect of Uliana and the VKs, you were one of the calmest and most collected, you thought before speaking, and you were quite different from Morgie, which made you a dynamic couple. You planned the pranks and he executed them, in short, that's how you fell in love.

It was a day like any other, you were sitting on Morgie's lap while he talked to his friends and planned his next group disaster, trying to include you and get your opinion. Maleficent, Hades, Hook and the two of you were taking a break from Uliana after she had turned into a flamingo, the whole scandal of her giving you a headache.

You played with your hands in his hair as you talked about how you could hide from getting caught when you heard two kids arguing as they approached you; a girl with long, straight hair wearing a sweater with drawings in the center next to a boy with short hair of the same color and style as her wearing a blue jacket over a white shirt.

"Speak you!"

“No, you speak!”

"Because I?"

“It was your idea, Red trusts you.” The girl frowned at him, who rolled his eyes in response and shyly approached you, being followed by the girl steps away.

“Um, Y/N?”

You looked away from your group of friends, looking at the kids (a year or two younger than you) with a raised eyebrow. Morgie placed his hands gently on your waist as he leaned in to see what was happening.

“I'm Mason and this is my sister Harriet, we're new and we wanted to know if you could give us a tour of the school because we heard you're a prefect.”

You raised an eyebrow and looked the brothers up and down before giving a quick glance to Morgie for his opinion, who gave a casual shrug.

“Okay, but make it quick. Follow me.” You climbed off his lap, giving him a kiss on the forehead before beginning to lead the children.

It was much more awkward than they expected, Harriet was trying to ask you about your relationship quite directly while Mason tried to shut her up and ask about school to cover it up. At the end of the day the twins walked into Red and Chloe's room frustrated.

"How did it go?" The one with blue hair asked.

"A disaster."

“I'm sure he hates us.”

“Whoa, what happened?”

“It seems like he hates children.”

“No matter what we do, we don't know what happened to make them break up!”

“We cannot prevent an event that we do not know about.” Her brother concluded.

“What is your parents' relationship like now?” Chloe asked carefully.

The twins turned to look before Mason let out a sigh. “We grew up in Auradon, we don't know much about Morgie because Y/N…”

“He never tells us anything about him.” Harriet continued. "It's not…" “A good father, neither of them.”

“We also want to get along with our parents.”

Red suddenly jumped out of his bed, having an idea. "I just thought of something! Do you know the reason for your separation?”

“Father always mentions betrayal, but he has denied many times that it is infidelity.”

“Do you remember the story of the chains?”

“Do you think that's it?” He turned to see his sister.

“Wait, what chain story?”

“Father told us of a ‘legend’ of a man who was tied underwater with chains by his lover to ‘protect’ him from worse harm.”

“We never really gave it any importance, but what if that 'worst damage' that he told us so much about was the barrier?”

“Has Y/N misinterpreted Morgie's act?” The redhead asked.

“No, he must have pretended that he felt hatred! Their separation was not for lack of love!” The younger sister let out an excited squeal.

“That does not mean that it is still difficult to avoid their separation, it was not in adolescence.”

“Wait, Mason, I have an idea!” His sister screamed again, grabbing him by the shoulders.

Morgie laid his head on your lap like he was a dog seeking attention, watching you read your book of sorcery and trying to memorize as much as possible.

“Are you going to go to class?”

“No.”

“Then put the book down and pay attention to me. I’m definitely more interesting than an old book.”

You put the book down with a sigh, setting it aside on the grass where you were sitting. They were both under a tree skipping classes; Maleficent and Hades were somewhere together while Uliana and Hook are probably strutting around looking for a victim.

“Morgie, you know I need to perfect my spells…”

He took your now free hand and placed it in his hair as a sign of wanting affection. “You are already very good at magic.”

“I'll use you as a lab rat.”

He swallowed, even though he knew it was an exaggeration. A cheeky smile traced his lips. “If I can stay by your side longer, I would be delighted.”

You rolled your eyes, unable to hide your smile. "It's ok, you win. We should do something more fun.”

“How about bothering Maleficent and Hades?”

“You're like a little child.”

“I appreciate it.”

You ruffled his hair. “Accompany me to leave the book in my locker and you have me at your complete disposal.”

They both got up, linked their hands and walked through the school hallways.

“Do you really use your locker?”

“Only for books that really serve as jokes, you don't?”

“It's like a warehouse for the gifts you give me.” He gave your hand a squeeze, a gesture that made you look away with a blushing smile.

You opened your locker, which had several magic books as you had said, what stood out the most were the photographs of you and Morgie stuck on the walls, along with some roses or letters that he sent you between classes. On top of your usual pile of books you found a letter that didn't look like the ones Morgie gave you.

You extended your hand to take it, looking at the back:

by: M. y H. L.F. to: Morgie and Y/N. “To save your future together, we love you.”

#descendants x reader #descendants rise of red #fanfic #male reader #descendants #gn reader #morgie x reader #morgie le fay #descendants morgie #morgie le fay x reader

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gothic-thoughts · 8 months ago

Text

Keep Our Mouths Busy

Sanji Vinsmoke x Black Fem Reader Angst

DomesticAU, ModernAU, Drunk Sanji

CW: Sanji yelling and breaking a bottle, reader has oral fixation, banging on doors, anxiety/stress reliving tactics

TW: drunken anger

Word Count: 1196 (give or take)

Any French translated via DeepL

Sanji came back late at night, slamming the front door closed, startling you out of your sleep. You roll over in your shared bed and go to walk downstairs. You step off the last step into the living room to see his tie and blazer discarded on the floor near the front door and upon hearing soft cursing followed by the sound of glass hitting the marble countertop, you slowly walk to the kitchen.

"Il ne m'écoute jamais, putain(Never fucking listens to me).” He mutters, messily filling a shot glass with whiskey, “Jamais (Never does)."

The slight sway of his body showed that this wasn’t his first drink of the night. He downs the glass in one gulp before slamming it down next to the bottle of whiskey before he picks it up, looking at the label and scoffing with a sarcastic smirk.

“Great... maintenant, je suis un putain d'ivrogne comme lui (now I’m a fucking drunk just like him)!”

He throws the bottle to the floor, making it shatter against the tile, shocking you out of your drowsiness with a loud yelp from where you stood in the doorway. Sanji turned to face you, leaning back against the counter.

“Have your lost your mind!?” You yelled, staying in the doorway to keep your bare feet from the sharp shards and alcohol littering the floor, “The hell is your problem?!”

“Qu'est ce que tu fais ici (What are you doing here?)”

“Why are you drunk, you were at work!”

He kept staring at you wordlessly, you don’t even think your words were getting through to him in this state. Sanji picked up the shot glass again, taking another sip as if it was still full before slamming it back on the counter. He clearly wasn’t in his right mind so you backed up a little, but he took a step forward, glass crunching under his dress shoes with his eyes still intensely locked on you. He clearly had no idea how scary he looked right now.

"Qu'est que tu veux(What do you want)?”

You back up again, stepping out of the kitchen, “In English, I can’t--”

"I said what do you want?" He snapped, slurring, “Why you down here so early?”

"First of all, Vin, it's 12 am," Your eyebrows raise, “Second who the fuck are you getting loud with?"

He stepped forward again, eyebrows furrowing. "Vin...? What are you talking about? My name is Sanji."

“Not when you're being a dick and breaking shit.”

He squints then struts towards you making you immediately keep your distance with tears burning your eyes, preparing to fall and your heart racing unsure of what he was going to do but he didn’t seem to care if he even noticed. He just followed you backwards, strides longer than yours as you hoped he wouldn’t have to hurt him.

“Tch, you think I’m being a dick?”

“Yes, you are and I'm calling you your first name until you remember how to act right.”

He stops walking when he notices tears of frustration brimming your eyes, right before you jog upstairs, leaving nothing but the sound of your bedroom door slamming before locking it. He stumbles upstairs, gripping the banister tightly until he reaches the top floor then staggers and throws himself at the door, banging his fists against the door several times.

"Baby, open the door." His voice contrasts with his actions heavily, “C’mon, you can’t just lock yourself in there, open--”

“Stop banging on the fuckin' door before the neighbors call!”

"How was I being a dick, I barely said anything to you!”

"You actin' like you ain't break a whole bottle in my vicinity then walked up on me like we was bouta fight."

“I didn’t, I was just-- I just..."

"Ion even wanna hear what you think you did cuz why else would I be in here?"

"I'm... I’m not...” He stops banging, finally gaining some self awareness as he leans against the door, “I'm... merde, I'm scaring you--"

"No shit, so calm the fuck down."

"You know I’m not mad at you, cheri, right?”

"I'm not asking you what you're mad at, I'm telling you that you need to relax."

You could hear his quiet, shallow breaths almost like he was panting just to calm down. Part of you wanted to help and hold him but you thought it was best to keep your distance until you were sure he was calm. Your heart pounded in chest with each of his breaths until they became deeper and more focused. After a few seconds, he knocks softly with one knuckle like he always did, making you let out an audible sigh of relief.

"Mon chéri... I'm okay, now. You can come on, okay...? Please, I'm calm now."

“You sure?” You ask, despite already being at the door, ready to see a non-threatening expression.

"Yes baby, I promise..." He sighed. "Just come to me, please? I'm sorry."

“When I open the door, I’m finna slap you.”

"You can slap me all you want, chéri, I earned it. Just open the door for me...?"

You unlock and open the door, revealing your tear-streaked cheeks and bloodshot eyes to him as you anxiously chewed on the gold chain hanging loosely around your neck. His eyebrows rise with more worry but as soon as he opened his mouth, you slapped him across the face, turning his head and making his hair flip to the side. He slowly reached up to touch his face, feeling the spot that you had slapped while the necklace fell from your mouth when you opened your mouth.

“I....” You sniffle, “I thought you were going to hit me.”

"No, no! I would never hit you... I would never; why would you ever think that?"

“I-I don't know, you're drunk.” You fumble with the chain again, placing it back in your mouth, “And you smashed a fuckin’ bottle and you were yelling a-and banging on shit so I thought you were mad enough to--”

"To hit you, no. Never. I'm sorry, I was upset and I wasn’t thinking about my movements or tone."

He sighed, rubbing his hand over his face a few times. He stepped closer, slowly reaching to cup your face in his shaking hands, looking down at you with sad, apologetic eyes.

"But I would never hit you. Never... Never, baby.”

“I didn't know, you're usually flirty when you're drunk and I just assumed the worst when walked up on me like that.”

"Yeah, I know, but tonight I drank because I was angry, I didn't become it.”

You sniffle a little, trying to get over it but your heart is still racing and he could tell by the way you were still gnawing on your strings so he steps closer and gently pulls your necklace out before replacing it with his middle and ring fingers into your mouth and watching you nibble lightly.

“Don’t like when you chew on your chain, charmant(lovely). Don’t want you breaking it.”

He pulled you into his chest, hugging you while the thumb of his free hand effortlessly caressed up and down the back of your bonnet as he held your head. He kisses your forehead, breath still reeking of whiskey.

"I’d never hurt you." He said quietly against your head, “I’d never, please forgive me, baby.”

You nod against his chest, snuggling closer. After several silent seconds of lightly grazing your teeth just about his knuckles for comfort, you grab his wrist and pull his hand away.

“What even happened?” You ask

“The old man benched me again, this time for the whole shift and we had fight in front of the restaurant. Shouldn’t have taken it out on you though."

#black reader #x black reader #black writers #black fem reader #x black fem reader #one piece #sanji x black reader #sanji vinsmoke x reader #vinsmoke sanji x reader #sanji x reader #one piece x black!reader #one piece x reader #sanji one piece #sanji fluff #sanji angst #vinsmoke sanji #one piece sanji

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cjlouwho · 2 months ago

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Hi , your take on the fake mouth static part truly inspired me lmao so here's a snippet tell me what you think ( english is not my first language so cut me some slack, will you )

The steady thrum of helicopter blades filled the cockpit as Tommy Kinard piloted the 1801 chopper through the open skies above California. His hands, steady on the controls, betrayed none of the turbulence within him. The mission—a rescue for two stranded hikers—required precision, but Tommy’s focus faltered as thoughts of Evan flooded his mind.

Evan. No one else called Buck by his first name, and for good reason. It was a privilege Tommy had earned during their time together, a sign of the intimacy they had shared. That intimacy had been Tommy’s undoing.

He told himself it was for the best. Evan deserved someone who could give him everything—a forever home, unconditional love, stability. When Buck asked him to move in, Tommy had wanted to say yes. But his insecurities screamed louder than his heart. What if Buck saw through his calm, stoic mask and didn’t like what was underneath? Tommy couldn’t bear to watch someone as bright and full of life as Evan fall out of love with him. It was safer to walk away.

Or so he thought.

A jolt rocked the helicopter, snapping Tommy out of his thoughts.

“Engine failure,” he muttered, alarms blaring as the cockpit lit up in red. His voice sharpened. “Mayday, mayday—this is chopper 1801 ! We’re going down!”

The chopper spun wildly, the earth rushing up to meet them. Tommy fought the controls until the last moment, but the impact came hard and fast, silencing everything.

When Tommy opened his eyes, the world was a haze of smoke and pain. He was pinned in the cockpit, his side burning where a jagged piece of metal had pierced him.

Fumbling for the radio, he pressed the button. “Dispatch, this is 1801 . Do you copy?”

Static crackled before a familiar voice broke through. He immediately recognised the voice as non other than Maddie and it seems she recognised him instantly as well : “Tommy? Oh my God, what happened?”

“Crash,” Tommy rasped, coughing weakly. “It’s bad. I’m pinned… and bleeding out.”

“Help is already on the way,” Maddie said, her voice shaking slightly. “Tommy, stay with me, okay?”

Tommy closed his eyes, his grip on the radio tightening. “Maddie, I need you to do something for me.”

“Anything,” she replied without hesitation.

“Patch me through to Evan.”

At Station 118, Buck was mid-conversation with Bobby when Maddie’s voice cut through his radio. “Buck, it’s me. It’s about Tommy.”

Buck’s heart stopped. “What happened?”

“There was a helicopter crash,” Maddie said, her voice strained. “He’s alive, but… he doesn’t think he’s going to make it. He asked for you.”

The air left Buck’s lungs. “Patch me through,” he said quickly, stepping away from the others.

A crackle of static, and then Tommy’s voice came through, faint and strained. “Hey, Evan.”

“Tommy,” Buck said, his voice tight with emotion. “What the hell happened?”

“Engine failure,” Tommy replied, his tone resigned. “Guess my luck ran out.”

“What ? ,” Buck snapped. “It's okay Tommy you’re going to make it. Maddie said help’s on the way.”

Tommy’s silence stretched before he spoke again. “I'm out of time Evan . I just wanted to tell that I’m sorry . For everything. For walking away.”

Buck swallowed hard, his throat tightening. If this was the end he might as well gets some closure “Why did you do it, Tommy?”

Tommy’s voice broke. “Because I was scared. I knew I wasn’t your forever. You’re... everything, Evan. And I thought if I moved in, you’d see the cracks. You’d see who I really am and decide you didn’t want me after all. And I couldn’t live with that.”

Buck’s breath hitched, his throat tightening.

“But I was wrong,” Tommy continued, his voice cracking. “I fell for you, Evan. And I should’ve trusted that you meant it when you asked me to stay. I love you. I’ve always loved you.”

Buck squeezed his eyes shut as his heart broke all over again. Then he smiled faintly, forcing his voice steady. “Sorry, Tommy.....(terrible fake mouth static)...trouble reading.... (even worse fake mouth static) ...can’t hear you.”

“Evan—”

“You’ll have to tell me again,” Buck interrupted gently. “When we pull you out of there. So stay with me, okay?”

So yeah that's what i came up with for now , what do you think ?

You came to my inbox and wrote a whole damn fic without letting me know exactly who you are and where to find you????

Risky business!

#I love it omg #bucktommy

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scaredycatwrites · 5 months ago

Text

Quiet Comfort

Pairing: Morgie le fay x gn reader

Prompt: you were a victim of one of Uliana's outbursts and Morgie finds you in a quiet part of the courtyard and tries his best to comfort you.

Warnings: accidental hitting, crying

a/n: I love Uliana's character honestly so much but i just felt this was a cute idea, this is the first time i’ve posted a one shot so apologies if its badly written.

Word count: 1,851 words

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

Being a VK was fun most of the time, you and your friends would have fun pulling pranks, terrorising the other kids and causing mischief in general but of course it came with its issues. Uliana was a great friend, but she was prone to outbursts of frustration and anger, especially if someone bested her at something, and today happened to be one of those days where someone decided to test Uliana's patience when she was talking down to them. Now usually you and the rest of the VK's could calm her down after a while making her feel better by reminding her that she can get them back next time but she was not in the mood for that today.

“Uli, don't let it get to you, we can get them ten times worse next time.” You spoke attempting to comfort the sea witch. But she wasn't in the mood letting a growl leave her. “Not now Y/n I don't wanna hear your attempts at helping!” Morgie and the others watched as you attempted to calm her down knowing it was probably not the best idea. You looked at her before trying once more. “But Uli, it's not the end of the world, we can get that spoiled princess back I know we can!” The others knew the look Uliana wore well, she was frustrated and at her breaking point. Uliana then snapped. “Oh my god Y/n do you ever know when to stop talking!? Just shut up! I don't need to hear your pathetic attempt at comfort! I don't want your pity!” The sea witch exclaimed her tentacles flinging out in frustration to hit at anything she could around her, unintentionally smacking you as she did so.

Most of the group backed up to let Uliana take her frustrations out on the surrounding area however Morgie was focused on the way you stood still for a moment as you put a hand on your face where the skin was turning a purplish red on the surrounding area of where Uliana's tentacle had caught your cheek. He could see the way your eyes threatened to spill tears and in a matter of seconds you seemed to excuse yourself mumbling an apology before doing a speed walk turned jog away from your friends.

You made your way to one of the quieter courtyard areas of Merlin Academy and sat on one of the corner benches, soft sniffles turned to silent sobs, occasional hiccups leaving you while you let out your emotions. The truth was you'd been dealing with some other stuff and this was the last straw to set off your tears you'd been holding in for a few days. It was definitely needed but inconvenient that it happened during school hours, you'd be mortified if anyone saw you crying like this, it made you feel weak and vulnerable, something you were taught by your parents that villains should never be.

Your worst nightmare began as you heard the softest little. “Hey..” come from the entrance to the courtyard, you knew those steps and that voice anywhere. Morgie. You turned your head away trying to stop the little sobs and hiccups from leaving you, taking a shaky breath you stuttered out a broken. “G-go away M-morgie.. ‘m fine..” Morgie slowly made his way closer to the bench you had sat on and sat on the other side keeping distance between you for a moment. “You don't have to be fine, it wasn't exactly a nice situation to be in, I saw how she caught your face, that must've hurt, trust me I know she's caught me a bunch before.” He half joked trying to lighten your solemn mood. You appreciated the boy's words but still felt uncomfortable appearing so vulnerable. “Morgs I'm fine.. I'll put some ice on it or whatever.” You mumbled trying to hide the shaky tone but unfortunately for you Morgie could hear the shakiness.

Morgie then shuffled a little closer to you on the bench placing a hand on your arm hesitantly which made you jump but you didn't move his hand away. “Y/n, you don't have to hide your emotions from me, I'm not gonna make fun of you, we're friends, I'm here for you.” You felt your heart ache slightly, it was difficult for you to be openly emotional due to your villainous upbringing and Morgie knew that pretty well having grown up in similar conditions yet he seemed so soft and gentle and kind with you all the time. “Morgie, why'd you come looking for me.. You know I would've been fine on my own.” You finally glanced at the boy next to you, your face tear stained and puffy from your crying, yet that didn’t seem to phase him all too much. Morgie slowly reached a hand up, using his thumb to wipe away any tears left, the gentle motion caused your cheeks to flush a faint shade of pink although it partially blended with the red tone of your skin from the crying which you were thankful for. “I know you say you would be ok on your own but i wanted to come and check in anyway, you mean a lot to me and i want you to be ok..” Morgie attempted to hide the faint blush on his cheeks as he confessed this to you.

Morgie let out a small hum, taking a breath as he spoke in a much softer tone than his usual excitable one. “You know, i thought you were very brave to try and help Uliana, you’re always positive about things which are hard to find in a villain, you’re kind Y/n, it’s hard to find that, even in those royal snobs.” His words made the corners of your mouth turn upwards ever so slightly producing a small smile. “Morgie.. You’re so sweet, I don’t understand why you are though, Uliana’s probably gonna kick me to the curb for trying too hard to be positive.” This caused Morgie to frown. “Not on my watch, besides you did nothing to warrant being kicked out of the group. Uliana is just having one of those days, it’s not your fault at all. I’m sure if we talk to her later she’ll probably be fine with you,she just needs to cool off.” You gently nodded and took a breath realising how silly you probably sounded worrying about being kicked out of your friend group.

You hadn’t even realised that Morgies hand was still resting on your cheek until you felt yourself leaning into the touch. He seemed to continue the gentle rubbing motion with his thumb, no longer wiping away tears but just comforting you with the gentle touch. You let out a comforted hum as he stroked your cheek, the touch was so soothing, it felt intimate in a way but you didn’t want to assume anything about the way Morgie was being. The moment of gentle touch and quiet lasted for what felt like an eternity before Morgie spoke up. “Hey Y/n, i care about you, so much.” You let out a small laugh. “Is that so? I didn’t think that villains were supposed to care about anything.” Morgie smiled a little as he rolled his eyes. “Well if that's the case then maybe i’m not a total villain because i seriously care about you Y/n, like a lot.” You looked at Morgie not expecting him to be genuine but there was nothing but genuine adoration in his eyes. “Oh.. oh Morgie that’s so sweet of you.. I care about you too.. And I seriously appreciate how kind you’ve been to me.”

Morgie gave a gentle nod as he felt his cheeks flush at your minor confession. “Well I'm glad we’re on the same page about caring for one another.” he half joked, causing you to snicker and nod. “Me too Morgs me too.. I should probably get to my dorm before I get seen by a bunch of snobby princesses, doubt we’d live down me being caught crying with my face in your hands.” This caused Morgie to laugh a little as he hesitated before letting go of your face and standing up. You also moved to stand up, missing the feeling of Morgie’s gentle touch on your cheeks. Morgie then gestured to you to begin walking which earnt an eyebrow raise from you. “Morgie le fay, are you offering to walk me to my dorm?” you teased playfully causing his face to flush pink and he begged you didn’t see, but you of course did. “Well.. um.. Yeah I just thought it would be the polite thing to do.” you let a giggle slip out as he explained himself. “And since when did you care about being polite?” Morgie then shrugged and smiled, beginning to walk off. “Hey if you don’t want me to, I can just let you go alone.” You shook your head quickly before doing a small jog to catch up to him. “I never said I didn't want you to.” This caused him to chuckle as you walked side by side in a comfortable silence for a few minutes towards the girls' dorms. “Thank you by the way.. For uh.. Coming to check on me, you didn’t have to do that.” you spoke up as you approached your room, unlocking your door, standing in the doorway for a moment. Morgie gave a small smile as he spoke in that soft tone once again. “Anytime Y/n, seriously if you ever need anything don’t hesitate to ask me.” you nodded gently leaning your head on the doorframe giving Morgie a lopsided smile. “The same goes for you Morgs, you can always come to me if you need anything, but if you tell the others about me crying don’t forget i know where your dorm is.” You half joked. Morgie shook his head. “I would never, I swear, VK’s honour.” He gave a silly salute making himself laugh and you giggle. “I’ll see you tomorrow Morgie, get to your dorm safe.” Morgie then took your hand in his for a moment pressing a gentle kiss to your knuckles causing your face to flush a bright pink. He bowed teasingly, chuckling. “I bid you goodnight dearest Y/n, sleep well and no more tears tonight or I shall have to return and you will soon tire of me doing this voice.” You laughed quietly at Morgies silly attempt at a princely voice shaking your head and rolling your eyes. “Yes I will, your unroyal evilness.” you teased making him laugh in response before moving backwards into your room giving a gentle wave. “Goodnight Morgie, you dork, you should go before curfew.” “Ah of course, goodnight y/n, don’t miss me too much!” he chimed before you watched him head off closing the door giggling to yourself and shaking your head, a warm fuzzy feeling in your chest as you thought about everything that happened and found yourself anticipating what might happen when you see Morgie again tomorrow.

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

An: I hope you enjoy this, honestly I just wanted to write some Morgie stuff because the world could use more Morgie. This is my first time posting my writing so I'm a bit anxious about it.

#rise of red #descendants #descendants rise of red #morgie le fay #rise of red morgie #morgie x reader #morgie le fay x reader #morgie is such a lil guy

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autumnsxxangel · 1 year ago

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SandRay are an homage to Wong Kar-Wai's Happy Together and in this essay I will..

...actually explain it because I see people catching his homage's to Western queer media, but not really his shout outs to Eastern queer media.

I assumed there would be allusions to Happy Together when I first saw the trailer, but this last episode centered around Ray really cemented it for me. After all, why would P'Jojo reference all these Western queer shows and not talk about what is probably the most iconic piece of Eastern queer media ever?

Wong Kar-Wai & Happy Together

For some background information, Wong Kar-Wai is a famous and insanely influential Hong Kong filmmaker. If you're a film nerd, you probably know who he is and recognize his style. If you like film and metas, I would recommend watching some of his stuff because afterwards, you'll realize just how much influence he still has on modern media, especially in Asia. Stylistically, he's known for rich color grading; thematic usage of music; an unending sense of nostalgia, heartbreak, and missed opportunities; and dialogue that mean nothing on the surface because everything meaningful is boiling just under, left unsaid (If you've watched Everything Everywhere, All At Once, the entire actress universe sequence was an homage to Wong Kar-Wai). His actors always do a phenomenal job because so much of what they need to portray can't be communicated through words. It makes sense why SandRay, aka FirstKhao, were chosen to represent Happy Together as they are the strongest actors out of the group.

Happy Together, simply summarized, is about two men, Ho Po-Wing and Lai Yiu-Fai, who are in a very tumultuous relationship. They end up in Argentina because they wanted to visit the waterfall that's on a lamp that they own. They get lost, end up using all their money, and have to figure out a way to get back to Hong Kong. While there, they break up, get back together, and break up again.

The movie was released in 1997 and is still ranked as one of the best queer movies of all time. The two main characters are played by Tony Leung and Leslie Cheung. You might recognize Tony Leung as Simu Liu's dad in Shang-Chi. Leslie Cheung was in Farewell, My Concubine, and was famously a bisexual man with a long term male partner. This is significant because it was virtually unheard of to be out and open at that time (he made his relationship public in 1997 though he had mentioned bisexuality in earlier years), especially in Hong Kong which was, and still is, very homophobic. Leslie received a lot of hate for his sexuality and androgyny. (If you're interested in learning more about Leslie as a queer Asian figure, this is a good video essay that goes over his work and his life).

Sand as Lai Yiu-Fai

Fai's, and in turn Sand's, character can be summed up by one line, "One thing I never told Ho Po-Wing was that I didn't want him to recover so fast. Those were our happiest days."

Both Fai and Sand are very static, straightforward characters. They stay above board for the most part and work a variety of jobs to survive. They have their morals about what is right and wrong, which unfortunately is both of their downfalls.

In Happy Together, Wing breaks up with Fai because he is bored with the relationship. He basically says, "I'm bored being with you. Let's break up. If we happen to meet again, we can try again." Then he leaves Fai stranded on the side of a highway.

Later, he reappears in Fai's life. The first encounter is a fight, much like Sand and Ray's first meeting in the bathroom. The second encounter is because Wing gets beaten up. He goes to Fai because he knows Fai will feel obligated to take care of him and he does. It becomes the beginning of their rekindled relationship.

Similarly, Sand has a strong sense of obligation. There are already metas out there about how Sand has a bit of a hero complex. He sees Ray too drunk to drive and he had to step in. He doesn't just take the keys and order a taxi. No, he takes the keys and drives Ray. Sand sees Ray being all sad and pathetic and he can't stop himself from helping. It makes him feel useful. It makes him feel needed.

Both of these men are caretakers. They show affection by providing care. Sand ends up cooking for Ray just as Fai cooks for Wing even when he's sick. As an added bonus, they both make fried rice.

Both Sand and Fai are characters that stand completely still. Ray and Wing always know where to find them. Sand can always be found at YOLO and Fai is at his apartment. Because of this, Ray and Wing come and go as they please. They know that Sand and Fai will take them back...until they finally don't.

Ray as Ho Po-Wing

Starting on a base level, both characters are bratty, needy, promiscuous, spoiled, and selfish. But most importantly, they both share a love of fluffy cardigans.

(I also have a theory they keep putting Ray in wife beaters as an homage to the 90's HK cinema style because otherwise...I just don't understand why, as a rich asshole, he's always in wife beaters. By Thai BL logic, he should be in shirts with too many buttons unbuttoned.)

Wing and Ray are both the ones controlling the pace and direction of the relationship. They come when they need someone to nurture their wounds, both physically and metaphorically. They leave when they're bored or have things they deem more important. They both initiate intimacy and won't take no for an answer.

Wing does this by first trying to join Fai on the couch and then chasing after him to the bed and begging him to let them sleep together.

Ray does it by continuously getting Sand to get in the car with him and then using his puppy dog eyes.

They are both also very, very pouty.

Wing's line is "We could start over". He says it every time he comes back after he's the one that ends the relationship. Fai always fights taking him back, but he always does it anyway.

Ray doesn't really have a line yet (unless you count his "na na naa~"s) but he bats his eyelashes and so far Sand has given into him every time. Sand keeps trying to set boundaries, but the moment Ray begs a little bit, Sand crumbles like a house of cards and lets Ray have whatever he wants.

Relationship Parallels

Wong Kar-Wai is known for making movies about star crossed lovers who are meant for each other, but aren't meant to be together.

Like Wing and Fai, Sand and Ray fill in each other's cracks in a way that complements each other. However, because of the nature of the cracks themselves, them complementing each other is exactly what makes the relationship so toxic. One stays and one goes. One takes and one gives. One is steady and one is flighty.

Most of what I wanted to say about the parallels between their relationships is in the character comparison. What I'm more interested in is the future of SandRay's relationship, especially if they continue to parallel Wing and Fai's in Happy Together.

Obviously, Wing and Fai don't end up together at the end. It wouldn't be a Wong Kar-Wai movie if they did. What is interesting is that Fai's relationship with Wing eventually pushes him into becoming something angry and spiteful. Once Wing heals, Fai knows that he'll become bored and want to leave. In an attempt to get him to stay, he steals and hides Wing's passport which is insane because they are both gay men stuck in a foreign country where they don't speak the language.

Wing, of course, leaves anyway.

There is also a third character, Chang, whom Fai ended up liking. These new feelings are what eventually pushes Fai to leave Argentina and move on from Wing and move on with his life.

The question is, if SandRay follows that same path as Happy Together, what will be the passport that Sand tries to hold over Ray and who will be Sand's Chang?

Stylistic Parallels

Smoking

Making Ray and Sand smoke is definitely an homage to Happy Together with the added bonus of being a metaphor. For the most part, we rarely see characters, especially main characters, smoke in Asian media because smoking is reserved for 'bad' characters.

Cigarettes in Happy Together represent boredom. Fai and Wing smoke at the beginning before they rekindle their relationship because they are just moving through life. Once Fai and Wing get back together, cigarettes stop making an appearance. It isn't until their relationship started deteriorating that we see the men smoking again.

This can also be said about Sand Ray's relationship. They started their 'involvement' with cigarettes. However, the last time we actually see them smoking is in ep 2 right before they hook-up. Since then, we have not seen either of them smoking. This probably means that we'll see one or both of them smoking again when their relationship starts to break down.

(In the preview for ep 5, there is an ashtray in the background on the balcony so let's see if Boston finding out about them is a catalyst for them to start breaking down.)

And of course, there is the added homoeroticism of asking for a light.

Ray's Opening and Closing Scenes

Ray's episode is really what made me go "I see you P'Jojo".

Ray's episode starts with a shot of him isolated and in emotional pain. The camera is claustrophobically close and it keeps moving around. He has a little voiceover opening. It's calm, it's contemplative, it's a little existential, and it is irrevocably sad. If that is not a Wong Kar-Wai staple, then idk what is. Even the song that starts playing gives me 80s, 90s Cantopop vibes.

Ray talks about how Mew being his emergency contact and the one he goes to. Fai talks about how Wing always comes back to him and says "Let's start over".

The movie and the episode ends with both of them once again isolated, alone. They've been through an emotional journey and they've technically moved on. But there's always the idea of not being able to fully let go in Wong Kar-Wai's movie. So just like how Fai has physically removed himself from Wing, but not emotionally, has Ray actually fully removed himself from Mew?

Cinematography

Then there's just a collection of scenes that reminded me very heavily of Happy Together and Wong Kar-Wai's style. I would have added pictures from his other movies for comparison, but Tumblr only lets me put 30 images in a post and I don't want to make a 2nd post.

This scene is specifically from the 1st trailer so I hope they keep it in the show.

This one I call the inevitability of falling. Both Sand and Fai realize they're fully committed to their decision to take care of Ray and Wing here.

The end title card

Actually, all of the end title cards give very Wong Kar-Wai vibes. Look at that saturated, neon color grading. Look at the elongated shots. The intense feeling of isolation.

I'm assuming we'll get all the characters at one point, but so far it looks like the end credit cards indicate who the narrator of each episode is.

Anyway, that's it for me! Sorry it was so long and rambling. I tried to organize my thoughts but as I was thinking, more thoughts would pop up and I'd get distracted. If you made it this far, thanks for reading!

#ofts #only friends the series #only friends series #sandray #ofts meta #only friends meta #happy together #i have to post this now because if i dont ill keep writing and ive already spent too much time on this #if anyone has other screenshot comparisons post them #because there are a few more scenes that give me major wong kar-wai vibes #but im too tired to look for them now

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vulpixisananimal · 2 months ago

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(Ramos)

(Wren belongs to @fungal--wastes)

(You gripped the windowsill and looked out on the rainy courtyard. You, Bonnie, Mirabelle, and Siffrin had all returned not too long ago and the whole place was in a panic. After Sif and Mira left, you and Bonnie had convinced Wren, Vixul, and Polaris to help you with the eventual sadness after you fixed Pols mind craft. After that Bonnie got worried about Mirabelle and Sif, so you trusted the three strangers with keeping everyone safe and ran.)

(You found Siffrin passed out, Mirabelle protecting them, and that sadness fighting a couple of strangers.)

(Strangers you knew.)

(You knew their faces, but couldn't put names to them. You couldn't put memories to them. Whatever they did to your head, the connection of what they did and who they are was severed. You know factually they're the ones who controlled you, but. . .)

(. . . They're gone now, and everyone was safe. You had to carry Siffrin back, but that was alright. He was surprisingly light, actually, and his cloak was really soft!)

(There's a knock on the door.)

"Come in." (You sigh, and step away from the window. Isabeau opens the door.)

"Hey Rams." (He says with a weak smile.) "Uh, Sif's feeling better. Do you, want to, uh, visit him?"

(Isabeau had been acting weird, but once you were back he was same as always. You checked everyone for mind craft, but there was barely a trace. You could tell by Isabeaus tone he was asking more for his own nerves than for you to check on Siffrin.)

"Uh, sure!" (You agree.)

"Thanks. . ."

(You exit the shared room and walk down to Isa and Siffrins. Isa knocks on the door, and the curly haired, dark skinned boy called Wren opened it. He was wearing a scowl, but aparently that's how he always looked.)

". . Come in you two." (He left the door open and walked back inside. Following him in, you saw Siffrin lying in bed, his breathing shallow, and a few bandages where there were cuts. Wren walked to one side of the bed and picked up a book, standing to read. Mirabelle sat in a chair on the other side, she was adorned with more bandages than Siffrin. She stood when you two entered.)

"Oh- are you two okay?!? Is everything-" (She starts.)

"Sit down, madame." (Wren interupts, not looking up from the book.) "Or you may open a wound."

"S-sorry." (She sat down again, sighing. Isa walks over to her, you stay at the foot of the bed.)

"Nervous?" (Isabeau asks, kneeling down next to her.)

"V-very." (She took a breath.) "Scared, too, and still a bit angry."

"Because of. . ." (Isabeau prompts.)

". . ." (She huffs.) "Because of those two crabbing idiots who caused this."

(You can related. You want to comment, but you don't. It felt wrong.)

". . We'll catch 'em, Mira." (Isa reassures her.)

"I, I know, but, what if we can't beat them??"

"You beat The King. No?" (Wren comments again from behind the book.) "A man who not only broke a fundimental rule of crafts, but on a continent wide scale? Why are you worried about two overzealous archaeologists."

"Too true!!" (Isa chuckles, patting Mirabelle's back.) "We beat the King! So I know we can do anything!"

"By the looks of things, you already had Perci on the back foot when me and Bonnie showed up." (You finally jump in.) "So, then, I don't think he could beat everyone."

"I-I think most of that was the sadness, to be honest." (She replies sheepishly.)

"Speaking of." (Wren interrupts again.) "You are absolutly sure it isn't a threat? And that it really did just, dissolve into a sugary smelling stone?"

"I'm positive."

"Mhm." (Wren looks up finally, then looks at you.) "Hmm. Ramos, you know mind craft, I'm sure you could check inside Madame's mind to make sure there is no sadness ready to strike."

"H-HUH?!?" (You're taken aback.)

"W-woah! Wait a second!" (Isa waves a hand, worried.)

"N-no no, it's fine! I-I understand."

"But, it's, well-" (It's that you have a bad record with using mind craft on people.) ". . . Do I have to?"

"I encourage it." (Wren replies.) "While I know a fair bit about physical, mental, and craftomical maladies, I cannot work mind craft. So I cannot make sure myself."

". . ." (Isabeau looked to the side.) ". . . If, if Mirabelle is alright with it. A-and, I trust Ramos."

"It'll be alright, Isa." (Mira reassures.)

(You sigh.) "A-alright. I'll, I'll try and be quick, and, not do anything."

(You walk over to Mirabelle and Isa, and kneel down next to her. The look on your face must have given away your nerves, because she smiled wider at you in support. You smile back.)

"Ready?"

"Ready."

(You reach up and make your hybrid rock/scissors sign, and place it against her temple. Show. Danger. Sadness. Show. Danger. Sadness. Show. Danger. Sadness-)

(In a click the world fell into a soup of sounds and sights that you had to focus to tune out. Show. Danger. Sadness. Mind. You focus. Signs of sadness. . .)

(. . . The ebb and flow of Mirabelles mind was chaotic and shifting. You felt like a deckhand holding onto a ships rigging for dear life. You saw glimpses of her memories, of schools, of sadness, of joy, of- stop that, focus. You reach a bit deeper.)

(. . . . . . . You feel something. You did reach to the sadness' mind when you first fought it, but it was nothing but screaming and emotion. You feel a bundle of that emotion, knotted, bouncing around her head at it's own will. But it didn't feel dangerous. In fact, it passed through you, and you felt. . . afraid? Afraid of what.)

(And just as it came, it passed. It wasn't a danger, just emotions. You let go of her mind.)

(Back to reality. You stood up, a faint smell of mint in the air. You shook your head.) "Whatever it once was, it's nothing now. Just a ball of emotions, I've seen it before in other peoples heads."

"Other peoples?" (Wren raises an eyebrow.)

"I-it was for a test!" (Isabeau jumps to your defence.) "Just, y'know, training and all."

(Wren didn't look convinced. Or at least you assume so, since his face didn't even change.) ". . . If it's not any trouble, would you kindly do the same for Siffrin?"

"Is, that nessesary?" (You ask, glancing nervously at the resting rogue.)

"It might be. He was fighting a master of mind craft, after all."

(He has a point, you look to your companions. Mira and Isa both gave you a nod, so you turn back to Siffrin, gulp, and place your hand to their sleeping mind.)

(. . . . Mind. Protect. Explore. Mind. Protect. Explore-)

(The world clicked again and everything melted away, you took a moment to tune your senses out, then focus on Siffrins mind. You had to look for-)

(You're standing at the foot of a favor tree. Bellow you are stairs leading to a black sand beach, above, the sky is lightless and filled with stars. Everything seems lucid yet foggy. It was so, so detailed.)

(Most minds you entered where abstract, some had a bit of physicality, but this was differen't. It was like a whole world inside Siffrins mind. You took a step, you looked around, you could walk. You could still feel your body over Siffrins bed, and move in this, mindscape. It felt like everything was flickering in and out of focus.)

(You reach out, focus, you had to focus. Mind. Protect. Explore. Mind. P-)

(You felt a hand around your throat and you felt yourself slammed into the favor tree. It was blurry, the world still flickered, but you could tell who was holding your neck and was looking at you with murder in their eye. Null.)

<What. Are. You. Doing. Here.>

(I, I was asked to, check, and make sure S-siffrins- your mind was- You feel the grip on you tighten, it, it felt so real how, how is this, possible?!?)

<Get. Out.>

(The figure got clearer. He, he looked like Siffrin, but, taller, and a bit more muscular. They had a a ponytail, a cloak only over one shoulder, and no eyepatch. You were terrified.)

(J-just, I'll be gone just, I need to check, if, there isn't, any mind craft here, or-)

[Oh my! Caught a rat, my dear friend Null?]

(Voice, you, almost recognised it. You look up, a figure jumped from the tree. A lightless body, and a bright, blinding head. They turned to you, eyes staring daggers into you. Loop.)

[Oh not even a rat, but a stupid, blinding flea!!!]

(P-please wait I'm-)

[Oh is THAT why you're here? Well in that case then the only pests in our mind is you.]

(Loop walked towards you. You felt your legs quiver, you felt numb, your body felt numb. Loop reaches to you, a knife coming from nowhere and in your face.)

[I have so wished to be able to scream at you personally, Ramos~]

<Agreed.>

(I'll, I'll leave! I'll leave right now!! T-there's no need just-)

[Say, if I stab you, what would happen?]

(Your eyes go wide, breathing fast, you shake your head. Loop nods.)

[Oh yes, what WOULD happen! You see, we can't exactly die~ We just come back after a few days rest as peachy as before! But what would happen to someone like you-]

{Enough. Out.}

(You stumbled back away from the bed, falling on the floor, back to reality. That third voice threw you out, shoved you from the mind. You couldn't make it out, you could only make out, Null, Loop, some dark figure who appeared for only a moment, and, a-and, Siffrin? Did you see Siffrin peaking over the edge of the staircase?)

(You grasp at your throat, breathing heavily. Change, it, it felt so real. You felt like someones hands had been at your neck, someones knife at your throat, but, but your necks fine. Your bodys fine. It's, it's all fine.)

"R-ramos are you alright?!? Is Siffrin alright?!?" (Isabeau rushed over to you and helped you off the floor.)

(You shook your head, stars it felt hot.) "H-he's fine, j-just, I had, a-an interesting experience."

". . . Care to elaborate?" (Wren asks.)

(You look between Mirabelle and Isabeau. It was that private, personal thing you were all asked not to share.) ". . . I, well, it's private."

"My lips are sealed. Tell." (He was giving you A Look.) "I have already kept a number of secrets. If it's no danger to my friends, it wont leave this room."

(You hesitate, waiting for one of the other two to make the decision.)

". . . . You can say it, Ramos." (Isabeau finally speaks up.) "If, it's to make sure Siffrin's okay."

"A-alright. . ." (You breathe in, and out.) ". . . Siffrin has a mental disorder that, well, they have multiple differen't people in their head-"

"Dissasosiative Identity Disorder?" (Wren interupts. Again.) "Or some other non-specified identity disorder. Or do you not know." (You all shook your head.) "Reguardless, I know what this is and how important a secret it is to keep. Continue."

(Hmm, you wonder what that implies.) "Okay, well, when I went into their mind, it was, well, a place. A beach with a favor tree. Most minds are abstract but, not that. I started to poke around and I got slammed against the tree by, uh. . . I-I think it was, Null."

"O-oh!" (Mirabelle perked up.) "I-I mean, I'm, sorry that happened, b-but also, well, glad that, he's okay?"

"I don't think I've met Null. . ." (Isabeau ponders.)

"W-well, well, they told me that there wasn't mind craft, then, a star headed someone showed up-"

"Oh! Loop!" (Mirabelle smiled.)

(You nod.) "Yeah, Loop. They threatened me, I tried calming them down, I heard another voice I couldn't place and, I was kicked out."

"Fascinating. . . You will have to teach me mind craft, Ramos." (Wren looked back in his book.) "That's all I wanted to. . . . Are you sick, Ramos?"

"H-huh? No?"

"Really?" (Wren looked up again with the slightest of smiles.) "Your cheeks are off-shade, is all."

"H-HUH?!?!?" (You slap a hand to your cheek, burning hot?!?)

"Ramos?!?!?"

"A-are you BLUSHING?!?"

"N-NONONONO I'M NOT!!" (You hold up your hands and back away) "N-not blushing here!! Not at all no way now how I don't know why I'd be BLUSHING y-you guys must be seeing things!!"

(Isabeau looked at you, eyebrow raised, arms cross, and a slight smile.) "Do you uh, have something to talk about buddy?"

". . . . . I-I didn't think I did-" (You mumble.)

"Alright, that's enough you two." (Wren waves a hand) "Go have your lovestruck thoughts on the rogue away from me. Gods Polaris is already bad enough."

(You swiftly make your way out, head down. Once out you lean against the wall, panting hard. What, what the crab. Why are you blushing? WHY ARE YOU BLUSHING!?! You, y-you didn't, you weren't attracted to him like that were you?!?)

(You're so caught up in your thoughts you don't notice Isabeau trying to talk to you untill he has his hand on your shoulder. You jump, and turn.) ". . . S-sorry I- I- oh Change Isa I'm so sorry-"

"Woah buddy." (He put his hands up.) "Calm down, you're okay! I'm not mad or anything! Just, checking in!"

"You're, y-you're not?!?" (You were trying your blinding best to keep your heart under control.) "B-but, I, I, wasn't, didn't mean to-"

"Hey, breathe with me? Talk after."

(You pause, but nod. You follow his leade, and breathe in. . . . . And out. . . . .)

". . . Good?"

". . . N-no, but, better." (You rub your shoulder, looking away.) "I, just, o-okay. . ."

". . . . Soooooooooooo." (Isabeau leaned down to be face to face with you.) "He's cute, right?"

"H-HUH?!?" (WHAT?!?)

"What, am I wrong?"

"I-I, I mean n-no! I mean- well, he, uh, maybe, b-but-" (You had to take a second and shake your head.) "I, o-okay well, he, he is kind of cute." (You mumble out the last part.)

"Hmm?" (He was wearing that smug smile of his.)

(You cant look at him, tugging up your bandana to hide your face.) "I-I mean he's, he's cute but doesnt everyone think that?!?"

"Well, kinda?" (Isa put a hand to his chin.) "Sure he gets called cute, but for Odile she said it's more 'wow that's cute' then move on, same with Mira."

". . . ." (Oh no.) "A-and, they, don't dwell on it?"

"Nope!"

". . . A-are, you sure-"

"Positive! You got something in mind?"

(You sink down into your shoulders, tugging your bandana up more.) "U-uh. . . . Well, uh, how, how he, he holds a mug with both hands and takes a big drink?"

"And how he he always has a big stain on his face after?!?" (Isas eyes light up.) "Isn't that the cutest?!?"

(You laugh a little.) "Y-yeah! O-or how stretches before training or a long walk?"

"Oh be still my beating heart. . ." (Isabeau dramaticly holds his chest and mocks a faint, making you laugh a bit more.)

"What about when he's making a fire-"

"'Please be warm please be warm please be warm-'"

"Exactly like that!! It's so cute!!!"

"Oh! Don't forget those chubby cheeks!"

"How could I ever forget those chubby little cheeks-"

(You cut yourself off. You were about to list off every tiny little detail you had noticed about them. The hands, the legs, the hair, the cloak. The way he laugh, the way he yawned. The way they ran and fought. The way they carved. Just, just everything. Dread filled your stomach as it hit you.)

"O-oh, oh stars."

"Heh." (He had that smug smile again.)

(You turn around, headed back to the shared room.) "I'm going to go jump off the roof."

"No!!" (Isa catches up to you, walking side by side.) "How will you ever express your unrequited looooove~"

"Shut uuuup." (You sink down again.) "I'm going through the stages of grief give me a break."

"Oh absolutly not. I survived months of Madams teasing, it's about time I gave back."

"Months?" (You finally got back to the shared room, looking at Isabeau as you enter.) "It took you months to confess to him?"

"H-hey! We were all under a lot of pressure!" (Isa follow you in.) "And hey! That means if you confess to Siffrin soon you'll beat me byyyyyyoooohhiMadamegoodtoseeyou-"

(You turn around. To your unending horror, the Researcher was on her bed reading. Well, she WAS reading, now she was looking at the two of you.)

". . ."

". . . Does being a defender make you particularly weak to short, white haired rogues?"

"Isabeau, please kill me." (You mumble.)

(Isa coughs into a fist.) "I don't think that'll save you."

"It wont." (Odile responds flatly.) "Do you two know how loud you were being in the hallway? By now the whole inn must know your 'secret.'"

"I'll just wipe my own memory that'll work." (You put your head in your hands.)

"Oh it'll be okay buddy, you'll survive!" (Isa pats your back.)

"No you wont." (Odile was back to her book.) "Mirabelle alone will be talking your ear off. Isn't that an entire genre in romance novels?"

"Enemies to Lovers, madame!"

"Exactly."

(You stomp over to your bed collapse. You're doomed. You close your eyes.)

". . . . Who were those guys anyway." (Isabeau ponders.)

"From what Mirabelles description, they both seemed skilled and educated on Island history." (Came Odiles response.)

"Not a lot of people who know about the island."

"True, that could narrow it down. What were their names again?"

"Perci." (You reply, sitting up again. Thank change the conversation moved on.) "Perci and Merlon."

". . . . . Hah! Haha!" (Odile was, laughing?) "Perci had messy hair, didn't he? And a fancy looking vest?"

"Uh, yeah? How'd did you-"

(Odile closed the book she was reading, and turned the cover for you to read.)

("History and identity of Mwudus lost funeral rites." Written by. . .)

"WHAT?!?"

". . . Huh!"

"Percival Monet and Merlon Monet." (Odile reads aloud.) "They have some reputation in historical and craftomical studies. Publishing historical accounts, reporting details on old ruins; they're known to travel the world for their reports."

". . ." (You stare in disbelief.) ". . . They're historians?!?"

"In some way. Perhaps Perci got far too invested in his work."

"Maybe. . . ." (You lay back down and roll to your side. Facing away.)

(They were just, historians.)

(You closed your eyes. You had, a lot to think about.)

#HEHEHHEHE YAAAAAY #isat #in stars and time #art #isat art #isat fanart #isat spoilers #siffrin system au #isat au #sifstem #isat siffrin #isat mirabelle #isat isabeau #isat odile #isat ramos #ramos #wren

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fluentmoviequoter · 8 months ago

Text

Butterflies Aren't Just for Kids

Part 2 of Crushes Aren't Just for Kids

Pairing: JLU!Bruce Wayne x fem!JL!reader

Summary: Bruce hasn't asked you out yet, despite the League's interest in your new relationship. When he finally has enough and takes you away from their prying eyes and endless questions, you tell him why you hid your feelings for so long.

Warnings: fluff!!! John, Diana, and Wally get warnings for being nosy

Word Count: 1.6k+ words

A/N: Have I mentioned that I love this show? I considered basing this on The Once and Future Thing (s1 finale) but think that would be better as an independent rewrite. Also, I love Wally so much!!

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Plenty has changed since Morgaine Le Fay turned you, Bruce, Clark, Diana, and John into kids and back into adults to defeat her son. Bruce learned about your crush on him, as did John and Diana, and Bruce hinted that he’d ask you out soon. Being a superhero vigilante is a full-time job, though, and he has yet to find the time to do that.

Every time you set foot in the Watchtower, John and Diana give you questioning looks. You can tell they want to pry and hear about what’s happening with you and Bruce, but you also know they won’t believe you when you say nothing. Luckily, you still have easy access to all the hiding places Bruce installed in the multi-million-dollar space base.

While you sit in the cafeteria and eat, your thoughts drift to Bruce.��He’s off somewhere fighting an alien with Clark, yet all you want is another quiet moment at his side.

“Hey,” Wally greets as he sits.

“Hi, Walls,” you reply with a smile.

“What’s up with all the weird looks?”

“What do you mean?”

Wally looks down and quickly counts the food items on his four trays. He speeds back into the cafeteria for another pudding, and you brace yourself for the wind that follows his return.

“Everyone keeps looking at you like there��s something big happening. They used to look at me like that, but you’re hogging my attention,” Wally answers.

“Sorry about that.”

“Seriously, it’s impossible to miss all of the looks. John and Diana look ready to snap every time you walk into the room.”

“I hadn’t noticed,” you lie. “I’m sure whatever they think is happening will pass soon and all eyes will be back on you.”

“As they should be, right?”

“Right, Walls.”

You excuse yourself, but not before you offer your cake to Wally. You ignore the looks Wally mentioned as you walk toward J’onn’s station in the heart of the Watchtower.

“J’onn, can you send me home? I don’t think I’ve got anything else to do up here,” you request.

“Certainly. I’ll let you know if we need you to return.”

“Thanks.”

A light blinds you temporarily, and when you open your eyes, you realize someone must have told J’onn you have a new home.

“I have got to talk to John about boundaries,” you mumble as you begin the short walk to Wayne Manor.

A few days later, you haven’t even seen Bruce. You’ve been pining after him for years, though, so what’s a few more days before that date he said he’d take you on? As long as it isn’t a theme park, you think as you walk through the Watchtower.

“We need to talk,” Diana says as she pulls you into a corner.

“About what?” you ask.

“You and Bruce,” John answers, stepping out of the shadows.

“What is this, an intervention? There’s nothing to talk about!” you whisper harshly.

“What happened after we left?” Diana inquires.

“He took me home. If you must know, he implied that he’d ask me out, but that is it! He may not even like me anymore.”

John shakes his head with a knowing look on his face. He can read you too well to lie to him.

“Look, I’m trying to be patient and wait for him to decide, ask, whatever, but it is getting very hard to do with you two drawing attention to us! Booster Gold asked me where the boyfriend was, and he didn’t even know who he was talking about!”

“Booster never knows what he’s talking about,” John argues.

“That is not the point.”

John smirks before he asks, “So, when you and Bruce have kids, do you think they’ll look like you two did in Mordred’s kingdom?”

The door behind Diana opens, and you realize you’ve been having this conversation outside Bruce’s workshop. While he was in it.

“Stop,” Bruce demands.

Diana nudges you, and you push her away. You’ll do something, but not because she encouraged you to, because you want to.

“What?” you ask with an exaggerated pout. “You don’t want to have kids with me, Brucie?”

Bruce rolls his eyes at your reply, but John and Diana stay beside you despite his bat glare.

“Are you going to ask her out?” Diana asks. “Because we’re all waiting for you to do something.”

“Clearly,” Bruce replies. “We’re leaving. Lantern. Diana.”

Before John or Diana can speak again, J’onn transports you and Bruce away. They’re left facing each other with a few answers and more questions.

“Where do you think they went?” Diana inquires.

“I’m- I’m not sure I want to think about that,” John answers slowly. “She is my friend, you know.”

“So is he.”

“Yeah,” John says, his voice laced with sarcasm and disbelief. “Sure, he is. Best friend, really.”

When you arrive in the manor, pressed to Bruce’s side just as you were in the amusement park, you don’t hesitate to turn and hug him. Bruce’s arms wrap around you loosely, and you step back when Alfred enters the living room.

“I’ll assume you’re the reason I’ve been getting so many dirty looks and questions from the League?” Bruce asks.

His lips are up at the edges, and you think he will smile at any moment. You can’t tell by looking at him, but Bruce feels like a kid again when he’s with you. He didn't experience childhood like he should have, so he lets himself be genuine with you. He’s done wasting time, he decides.

“You know, I’ve been fighting by your side for a long time,” you say. “But your hugs are way better than your grappling hooks.”

Bruce shakes his head and leads you toward the couch before Alfred returns with popcorn, a tray of snacks, and your favorite drink that you did not ask for nor mention. You thank him, and he winks at you quickly. He’s glad to see Bruce happy and to have visitors in the manor again.

“I should’ve hugged you sooner,” you muse as you reach for the food. “Could have been spending time here for years by now.”

“Why didn’t you say anything before?” Bruce asks softly.

“Why didn’t you?” you counter. You lick your lips before answering, “You’re important to me, Bruce. I didn’t want to jeopardize our relationship or the team, or, worse, put you in danger by saying the wrong thing at the wrong time. There were too many unknowns.”

“So, you planned to, what? Wait until I said something?”

“Caged butterflies,” you whisper. “Cages don’t hold them very well. I would’ve said something eventually, but Morgaine put me in a position where I didn’t have to.”

“Then, technically, John told me.”

“You’re a jerk, you know that?”

Bruce smiles, and the butterflies you felt as a kid revive to create a hurricane in your heart. He leans in and brushes his lips over your cheek before saying, “I’ve been told… I’ve also been told crushes aren’t just for kids.”

“Jerk,” you mumble again as you turn your face toward Bruce.

“Oh! Oh!” John yells when you step out of J’onn’s transporter and onto the Watchtower. “Someone’s glowing. How them butterflies feeling?”

“Like kids again,” you answer honestly. “I guess I should thank you for forcing me to do something.”

“Lanterns have been making dreams come true for millennia.”

“There’s no way that’s true.”

“You don’t know that. You’re not a Lantern, or a mind reader.”

“It’s not true,” J’onn calls without looking away from his console.

“Man, we need better friends,” John tells you.

“You are my better friend.”

“Save that lovey stuff for the boyfriend.”

“I thought he was Diana’s boyfriend,” you argue, tilting your head as you hide your smile.

“The ploy of a mastermind to learn the truth,” John answers with a shrug.

“You really are spending too much time with Wally.”

John stands and beckons you to follow him. You do so wordlessly, but you run into someone as you round a corner beside him. Bruce grasps your arms gently to keep you upright before dropping his head to look at you.

“Here comes the bride,” Wally sings under his breath.

You and Bruce look up quickly, surprised to see Wally has joined John, and they are watching your interaction with far too much interest.

“And that’s why we’re glad Wally wasn’t included in Mordred’s spell,” you grumble against Bruce’s chest.

“What spell?” Wally asks. He doesn’t give anyone time to answer before he rambles, “Hey, have you told her about your childhood, Bats? I mean, you’re definitely a loner now, but good luck learning anything about him; he’s one tough walnut to crack.”

“I know,” you and John say together.

Bruce tightens his grip on you before requesting J’onn send him home. The Watchtower is no longer a haven from Gotham, not with the League’s new favorite topic of conversation: you and Batman.

“We should buy a vacation house,” Bruce says as you open your eyes in Gotham.

“Yeah. In Coast City, where Ollie can find us and bring the rest of the fan club,” you joke.

Bruce stays quiet for a moment, and you begin to ask him what’s wrong, but he cuts you off.

“Get ready. We’re going on that date I promised,” he says.

“You never actually asked,” you point out.

“Will you go on a date with me?” Bruce asks.

“I’d love to.”

“Then go get ready. I’m taking you somewhere we can be ourselves.”

“Where could you possibly take me that Bruce Wayne won’t be recognized? And if you say an amusement park I will walk out right now.”

“I was thinking Metropolis. The roof of the Daily Planet. I called in a few favors.”

“I take it back. You weren’t a cute kid… you’re still cute.”

“And you still have trouble with maintaining eye contact.” Bruce leads you to the stairs and spreads his hand over your lower back before he whispers, “We’ll work on it.”

#hanna writes✯#bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x you #bruce wayne imagine #bruce wayne fic #bruce wayne #jlu!bruce wayne #justice league unlimited #fem!reader #jlu!bruce wayne x reader

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