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sunnie-angel · 5 months ago

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Nothing Fucks With My Baby (Part 2)

link to part 1

jason todd x f!reader

summary: jason has always feared he’d be the monster of his life. what he doesn’t realize is that between the two of you, you will always be the bigger monster, and you will love him anyway.

tags: violence, murder, implied child abuse, manipulation, implied sexual content

rating: mature | wc: 5.8k

a/n: this plot bunny took over my brain and wouldn’t let me go until i’d finished it. reader’s pov can get pretty twisted, so please mind the tags on this one and let me know if i’ve missed any.

Lucy Nesbit dies remarkably young. Only eight years old and she had drowned in a stormwater overflow. Poor thing, the adults had all said. Should have minded her step better, shouldn’t have been playing in dangerous places. The school had held a week of mourning. A tragedy. It hadn’t taken much effort to kill her. A sharp shove, then kneeling on her back until the bubbles stopped, and suddenly there went Lucy. Stones thrown at recess, scissors searching for your hair, harsh names and turned backs all stopped with just a few moments of effort.

The killing of Lucy Nesbit is likely the most important lesson you learned from that school. No one at the foster home had noticed you come home soaking wet, blood on the tip of your shoe. No one had asked you any questions when you didn’t gasp with the rest of your class as the principal announced the death of poor little Lucy, gone too soon. Nobody had noticed that you had been the one to make the world a less scary place. It is a lesson you keep close to you.

Only Jason Todd had noticed anything different at all. Found you in the corner of the yard staring down at the pavement during recess. Tucked his hands and looked up at the sky, squinted.

“Don’t need me to look out for you anymore,” he sighs. Nudges your shoulder with his and says “Lucy won’t be pickin’ on you again.” He’s right, of course. She won’t be doing anything important really.

“Sometimes I wished she’d die so they’d leave me alone,” you whisper. “‘Cause it was bad when you were there but when she’d wait for you to leave it was always worse. Does that mean I’m a bad person?” It’s a thought that’s crossed your mind before. Is there something so wrong, so terrible about you that the well-fed well-heeled could just look at you and know there was something awful about you? The same thing that led to getting left behind, bullied, belittled. Had Lucy Nesbit taken one look at you and known you were something to be destroyed?

“Nah. You’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be best friends with anyone bad.” He grins at you, front left tooth still missing from where you’d helped him pull it out three weeks ago. The bell rings, shrill and discordant, signaling the end of recess.

It’s only years later that you understand the tremble of her lips and the wobble of her chin before she would call you names, dig her nails into the meat of your arm, lead the other girls in pretending you didn’t exist. Lovely Lucy Nesbit, sweet cheeked with glossy curls, had been afraid. She should have been. The new girl who’d only moved to the Alley recently after her father’s embezzlement conviction, oh she should have been afraid of the children chewing her up and spitting her out like a rotten peach. Instead, she chose someone else to make afraid. The little girl with only one friend and no one waiting for her at home. All of that glitz and Diamond District shine wasn’t enough to bury the ugly truth of Lucy.

Jason Todd dies at 11 years old. He dies at the hand of the Batman, Gotham’s own protector.

Three weeks after Catherine had died and two weeks after he stopped showing up to school, Jason shows up at your foster home. More particularly, at the window of the bathroom you’re currently hiding in. The knocking startles you, hands coming away from where they’d been pressed to your ears to block out the fighting. He grins and waves at you through the window, suspicious smears across his nose and temple. You have to stand on the very tips of your toes to push open the latch but you manage it. He presses his face to the bars, hands wrapping around the solid metal.

“Jason?” you ask, tone tinged with wonder. “What are you doing here?”

“Jus’ wanted to tell you I’m okay.” Something smashes within the house and the voices raise. “Couldn’t stick around for long after the funer— after. Didn’t wanna stick around to see if they’d stick me in a place like this.”

“But what are you going to do? Where do you live?”

“Found an empty building that’s pretty warm. Sometimes I find stuff and Mr. Baker at the garage buys ‘em from me so I can buy loads of snacks. You know—” there’s a loud pounding on the bathroom door, staccato sharp, that causes you both to jump. One of the older foster kids yells at you to hurry the fuck up, then slams on the door again for good measure. In a hurried whisper, Jason continues “You know the old building across the park with the purple window sills? Come find me there.”

The night Jason Todd dies, you’d managed to sneak out again. Knew from previous trips the best way to get to the old house was to go out the back and use the garbage bins to boost over the fence. Jason’s not there when you let yourself in, hands careful to put the loose board back exactly the same. He does this sometimes. ‘Finds’ things to sell to Mr. Baker so he can come back with candy from the bodega to share with you. You settle yourself in to wait in the blanket you’d snuck out for him when there’s a noise from the lane behind the house. Clutching the scratchy blanket closer to you, you feel your way through the dark, breath held in your chest like a treasure. The slats nailed over the painted window sills have just enough of a gap that you can see between them without being seen yourself. What you see out in the night causes you to grip the old wood until splinters dig into your palms.

The Bat holds Jason in his grip even as he struggles, even as he swears. Jason’s angry, snarling face is nothing like his smiles for you. The Bat shakes him as Jason tries to twirl out of his grip, head lolling like a doll’s. Jason goes limp as he is bundled into the looming machine parked down the lane. The last thing you see of him is his eyes, wide and fearful.

Jason Wayne puppets the body of your friend for years after. He is not the boy that stood between you and Lucy Nesbit and matched her stone for stone. This Jason Wayne smiles for pictures without baring his teeth as a warning. He doesn’t remember cruel words or the way the world works. He doesn’t remember the lessons and the secrets the two of you had passed between you. No, this Jason Wayne doesn’t remember you at all. The only explanation is that your friend is dead. The fine sweet thing with his round cheeks and charming school uniform you only glimpse in the paparazzi photos printed in gossip rags half-melted into garbage heaps is not your friend. Just another leech of the city with pretty powder and paint, fattened on too much while there exists too little.

You get the news that Jason Wayne has died while at your third foster home since the one Jason had found you in. You find out the same way everyone else in Gotham does, the public broadcast of Bruce Wayne’s press conference. It steals the breath from you, the anger that slams into you. Heat surges through you and it is all you can do to uncurl your fingers from their fists. It hadn’t escaped you that four months after Jason Todd died there was a new Robin in town. That this Robin had a gaped tooth grin that would make even the dull mourning for a girl you hated seem bearable. The red rimmed eyes of Bruce Wayne on the staticky screen of the common room television confirms what you already know: Bruce Wayne is the Bat and he has killed your friend twice over.

Screaming into your pillow that night, your understanding of how the city works crystallizes. The Bat does not protect you, does not make your city better. He takes and he takes until there is nothing left for you. He throws out in a week food that would sustain you for a month, drops money on batted eyelashes and shiny new toys for him to destroy more of the city with. He is not the saviour some people say he is. He will not save you.

You are the Alley girl with the strange knobbly knees and the eyes that see too much. You will save yourself. You will keep your lessons about the ways the world works and what it takes to change them close to your heart.

The City of Gotham is never short of two things: crime and government money to prosecute it. Certifying as a court stenographer isn’t cheap, not with juggling your ejection from the foster system at 18 and having no funds to speak of. Second and third jobs keep you afloat until the scholarships and grants kick in. But by 20 your future is secured, government pension squirreling away into your accounts. You even manage to buy the house with the purple windows. It goes for a song on account of the murder that took place there all those years ago, but brand new flooring takes care of the more suspicious stains. It should be enough, to have saved yourself. It isn’t.

Every day you go to work and dutifully take down every damning word said. You record the lies and the horrors and the not guilty verdicts and every word you transcribe breaks your faith a little more. You have not saved yourself. The world has not changed, you aren’t any safer than you were at 13 and scared that the drunk man calling out crude words might actually carry them out on your walk home. No safety exists save for the pretty little lie you had painted for yourself. The only thing that has changed is that you are not scrabbling in the dirt.

Somewhere along the way, in the mess of bureaucratic paperwork that had become your life, you had forgotten the lessons you were meant to remember. Forgetting had not served you well. It takes a drunken night out gone badly to force you to remember.

A coworker pressures you to come out with the rest of the stenographers, a newly opened bar just close enough to the edge of the Alley to give the old money blood suckers the illusion of danger. The dance floor is crowded but you choose to stay hunched over your drink, wary of this glittering crowd. A man sidles up to you, rests his forearm against yours and offers you a smile that reeks of Texas oil wells and Manhattan construction firms. You look him in the eye as he fumbles through some pickup lines, nearly sick with the realization that he doesn’t recognize you. DUI, ran through a school crosswalk at the end of the school day, one child dead and two permanently disfigured. Got off with community service and a hefty donation. He wants to fuck you.

The police find him behind the bar the next morning, throat slashed and wallet missing, and chalk it up to a mugging gone wrong. He should have known better than to go flashing so much cash so close to where criminals live, the news anchors tut. Unable to withstand the scandal, the bar closes. You savour the top shelf whiskey bottle you’d bought at their closing, the same one he’d tried to buy you and drug you with, and attribute the glow in your belly to having done a good thing. His driver’s license finds a home under your living room floorboards.

The Red Hood arrives and the Alley almost seems to reverberate with the shockwaves. Still, pretty young things with a hankering for a bit of rough to tell all their friends about with champagne glasses in their hands and haughty titters wind up dead. You don’t recognize all of them from work, some of them you simply want power over. To reveal to these silver spoon fed creatures exactly how fragile their influence is. Disposing of them does not save you, but it makes you feel safe to know that the world does not turn solely around those shiny, fragile things. You are careful and you are not caught.

At the courthouse, you watch the aftermath of the Hood’s vendettas play out. Chat about cases with your coworkers between trials just to get a feel for what his game is. He’s an unknown to most of them, but not to you. You look at how the number of drug convictions of minors plummet this quarter, watch at how fewer pimps get brought in for killing their girls, note the way gang violence reduces down to just the Hood’s own orders and you understand. Whoever the Hood is, whatever he is, he knows the same lessons engraved on your heart. That the world is not safe unless you make it, and that the world doesn’t care what methods it takes to get it done.

Your first run in with Gotham’s newest crime lord isn’t planned. Quite specifically, you had never intended to make your way onto his radar at all. He had different plans, however. Taking out the garbage, you all but trip over his feet one late night. He’s slumped against your fence with one hand pressed against his neck. Blood dribbles between his fingers, dark under the fluorescent burn of the street lights.

The gun pointing at your head does not dissuade you from attempting to push him into a standing position.

“If you wanted to die in my yard, the least you could have done is climbed in through the back,” you say, voice measured and cold. “I’m not letting you bleed out in my front yard and make me a target for whoever carved you that second smile.” That jolts a reaction out of him, gun wavering from it’s unerring focus on your face. “So what we’re going to do is get you out of the open and then I’m going to call whoever you want to come stitch you up.”

A man of his size dwarfs the chair set in your kitchen but he will not be moved from his vantage point. Defensive, back to the wall and all entrances in sight. The wound still bleeds sluggishly. Determined not to have this man die in your kitchen, not when he’s actually out there doing some good in the world, you lay out your first aid kit and go for his throat. The gun jamming into the side of your ribs immediately lets you know just how badly you’ve not thought this idea out.

“You’re still bleeding, pretty badly too. I just want to take a look to see if I can patch you up long enough until whoever gets here can do something.”

The moment draws out, neither of you saying anything. With every breath you can feel the muzzle of the gun dig into you further. Something must read as sincere on your face, not that you’d ever be able to name what it was, and he reaches up for his helmet. Pushes a button at the nape of his neck to release it, before deliberately placing it on the kitchen table one handed. He smiles at you with bloodied teeth and, oh, that’s your boy.

“Well,” he rasps, “get to it.”

At that exact moment you press down with gauze, forcing a grunt out of him. Good. Jason’s scared you enough for a single lifetime. Trying to secure the gauze with medical tape and spite, you’re forced to lean into him until the feverish glow of his skin warms your own.

“Not afraid ‘m gonna bite?”

“I know you’re not going to hurt me because you’re my best friend and I wouldn’t be friends with a bad person.” Leaning back, you inspect your work. Shoddy, but it’ll do until someone actually medically trained can stitch him up. Finally, you let yourself actually look at him. Behind the domino mask you’d swear there’s slack jawed wonder. A brusque knock at the back door interrupts the moment and then great big hulking men are carrying Jason away. You know he’ll be back.

The next time you run into the man who might be Jason, you are tripping out of a bar on the arm of your next pretty bright thing, too whiskey-headed to tell that you’re nowhere near as disoriented as you should be after what you’d knocked back. He knocks over a homeless man’s collection bowl and snickers when the coins get knocked down a grate. Grabbing your wrist, he tugs, pulls you into the side alley and tries to pin you behind the dumpster. The broken bottle shard is already in your hand when the man drops down dead. A neat hole in his head sending droplets all over your blouse. There’s no way dry cleaning will save it. The Red Hood steps into sight, gun muzzle lowered. And just like that, Jason Todd — not Jason Wayne — is back from the dead.

Jason kisses you sweetly for the first time after he drives you home from the traveling fair that had set up on the outskirts of the city. The feeling of his lips — soft, chapped, heartbreakingly gentle — slots something broken back into the hollow between your ribs. He kisses you and the axis of your world shifts. He kisses you, and you know that he will look at you like you are everything good and kind that you pretend to be if only you will love him back. The tender thing in your chest growing claws, fanning hunger into conflagration. Loving him will save you both.

He pulls back and you let him. Look up at him from below mascara-lengthened lashes and allow yourself a smile. Fiddle with the hem of your dress and tell him haltingly just how much you’d enjoyed the evening and how excited you were to do this again. Jason’s declared himself as yours for the taking and you will not let him slip through your greedy fingers.

You let Jason court you. Accept the flowers he brings to your door with quiet murmurs of appreciation. Wear soft dresses that invite him to touch but are just enough out of season for the weather so he’ll wrap his own jacket around you. Send him off to patrol with packets of his favourite candies tucked into his jacket pockets and laugh with him over the meals he cooks for you in the same kitchen he had nearly bled out in. You would have done most of these things for him anyway, but now they are your weapons. Each action meant to pierce another hook into his heart until he is as unable to leave you behind as you could him. You will never believe the world is safe without him in it.

The number of Gotham’s most elite reprobates coming to unfortunate ends zeroes out. You’ve got the prettiest up and comer on your arm these days, with his many scars and fearsome attitude. Jason in his many forms makes the world a better place, makes you safer with every bullet lodged in a skull. He is not the same boy that yelled at Lucy Nesbit for you or split a chocolate bar with you in an abandoned house. The cracks show through. Violence drips out of his every pore despite his hand wringing to you late at night. You are his confessor and absolve him of any sin. A fangless creature is useless to you, though you would grudgingly love it nonetheless.

The first time Jason sleeps with you, you engineer it, encourage it. Why? Because it ties him to you. Binds him through sweat and flesh in a way that nothing else but the kiss of death can. Lean in and wrap your arms low around his stomach as he drives you home on his motorcycle. Linger in his good night kiss before inviting him in to see how the flowers he gave you are doing. Sweep your hair away from your neck as you bend down to place his mug of tea on the rickety coffee table. You close your eyes and smile where he can’t see at the feeling of warm lips pressed to your spine.

It’s slow. It’s sweet. You’ve never felt like a more precious thing than in his arms. He looks at you like you’ve hung the moon in the sky and set the sun to burning. You kiss his scars and tell him to give you his stories when he’s ready. One day there will be nothing you don’t know about him. If Jason wasn’t in love with you before tonight, he is now.

You are told the tale of Jason’s deaths and rebirths only once, but it is enough to open up the yawning chasm of fear under you again. The world is not safe, not for Jason, not for you, not when so many of your enemies still walk this side of the grave. Gotham is safer after the Red Hood. Jason is still in as much danger as he ever was. The horror, the possibility that he could be cut down — by Falcone, by Sionis, by the Joker, by the Bat — it shakes you to your core. You want to scream, to rage. What you do instead is kiss Jason on the forehead and let him go to pieces in your arms.

Jason always says you bring out the best in him. If that is true, then he brings out the darkest parts of you. The parts that twist and grow cold until you see the world as sets of acceptable losses for acceptable benefits. In your eyes, any loss is acceptable for Jason’s sake. He becomes lighter after the revelation, no more secrets between you he says. Accepts your heartbreak on his behalf with teary eyes and a wry smile. The day he tells you that Bruce — his father, the Bat — had been the one to carve him open the time he’d turned up in your garden is the day he becomes wholly yours.

“Jason, Jason he shouldn’t have done that to you,” you say gently, cupping his wet cheeks in your palms. He won’t look you in the eyes.

“He was— he was lookin’ at me like I was the monster, like my murderer wasn’t standing there too,” he confesses. “I just wanted him to love me like when I was a kid.” He shatters. “I just wanted to feel safe again.”

“Oh honey,” you coo, shears tucked into your hand. “I love you, and you’re no monster to me. You know me, do you think I could love something truly evil? You do so much good, you help so many people and you ask for so little in return,” your gaze is tender, loving. “I’d keep you safe, Jay, if I could. And I’d do it because I love you. Someone that won’t do that, well, it’s no kind of love at all.” You see the blow land, have already calculated its trajectory and velocity.

“I don’t— but he loved me. He loves me,” Jason insists, plaintive and raw voiced. “Doesn’t he?”

“I think he might’ve once. When you were younger, sweeter. But Jason, everything he’s done since then hasn’t been love. If he still loves you, it wouldn’t matter that you came back different, came back changed.” You can feel the last threads of his relationship with the Bat fraying under the blades of your words. It’s time to make the final cut. “Can you really say he loves who you are now?”

Jason asks, once, if you ever thought about kids.

“I thought maybe I’d foster some day. Save some poor kids the same trouble I went through, so that others don’t run off scared like you did.” It’s a lie, of course, but you know it makes him feel better to think of you as anything but selfish. “Not now though, not with the way the world is.” You rest your head on his shoulder, curl your fingers into his shirt. “Besides, the life you lead is dangerous enough. It would be cruel to bring children into our lives right now. Maybe one day, if the world ever becomes a little safer.”

He hums, thoughtfully, and leaves the matter there. But the seed has been planted in the dark corners of his mind and one day they will bear fruit.

The house with the purple window sills is officially only a home to you, but Jason comes round for dinner, to spend the night in your bed so often, that it may as well be his home too. He listens to you talk about your long days at work, the court cases that worm their way under your skin and won’t leave until you purge yourself of them. Really, he’s more horrified than you were at the beginning of this at how badly broken the system is. You give no names, simply the crimes and the sentences, and even those details are too much to bear.

One night you come home from work silent. Red rimmed eyes dry and sightless, you collapse into him. It takes an hour, more if you count the time spent panicking over a hypothetical injury, to coax the story out of you. A snake in the grass of a financial adviser, stolen pensions, and three suicides. All charges dropped. The testimony of crying grandchildren still not enough to make a difference. It is the first time he demands a name from you. It is not the last.

The day your old foster father comes across your judge’s docket is the day the world finally feels less terrifying. He is acquitted, of course. The testimony of trauma victims are notoriously inconsistent after all, if the witness is truly traumatized and not just lying for attention. It hurts to hear his public defender say those things, but it does make what you have planned easier.

The moment Jason comes through the door you are on him. Clinging to him all weak limbs and fought back tears. He holds you gently and strokes your hair.

“I need… I need you to do something for me Jay,” you whisper into his chest.

“Just gotta ask baby.”

“I need you to kill somebody and I need you to let me watch.” He stiffens under you, but you will not lose him here. “D’you remember when you came to find me at the foster home, the one with the yelling?” He nods, presses a kiss to the top of your head. “That foster father walked free today, acquitted and all charges dropped. I need to know he’s not gonna stay that way Jay, that someone cared enough to stop him, or otherwise I’ll go crazy.” He exhales sharply through his nose.

“I’ll take care of him, jus’ like I take care of all those names you give me. But do you hafta be there? Isn’t it enough to just know he’s dead? I don’t wanna drag you down into the dirt with me.”

“You’re not tainting me, honey. You’re freeing me.”

You watch the man die, a slow drawn out thing as he begs for kindness. His pain means nothing to you. Only the final blow, dealt by Jason’s bloodied hands, shifts the burden of memory from you. You stop being afraid of this particular threat. The body is found scattered across the railroad tracks. Police mark it down as a suicide.

This victory is twofold. Your world is a little safer and Jason has killed for you, on your express order and with you as witness. There is no greater high than this, the power that sings through your blood. Jason will reshape the world to keep you safe. Now you will reshape the world for him.

It takes three more months of witnessing his work and not flinching before Jason brings him to you. In the end, it’s really quite simple. You ask for the chance to show Jason how much he is loved, to let you take care of this one thing to keep him safe. He puts up a token fight, insistent on keeping your hands clean of his business, but the two of you know that your hands are far from pristine. The Joker is bound at your feet by the end of the day. A quick drag of your wrist and he is just another thing to be taken out with Saturday’s trash to eventually be illegally dumped in the harbour. Jason sobs in your arms that night.

He is not the boy you’d wished to have returned to you as a child. Jason is not quite the Bat’s son, or the weapon of the League either. He is some half-raised creature of the city’s own design and you love him because of that. You know he does not see you half as clearly as you see him, but you will accept his wonderful naïveté for all the ways it will let you protect him. Protect you by extension. Jason’s trust, his devotion to you, it is everything you’ve ever wanted. It is more than you have ever expected to have. That forgotten little Alley girl, now the centre of someone’s world.

And so you plan. A list of names a mile long of people who make this city worse just by breathing. Kingpins and crime lords and all their networks, culled from your networks and court cases. Heroes and vigilantes who already work tirelessly to hamstring the work the Red Hood does, uncaring of all the lives he’s saved. A list that, when all of the occupants are dead, will mean you are finally safe in a world that belongs to Jason. Convincing Jason, with all of his infinite love for you, to wipe the slate clean of them all is still no easy matter. Instead, you let the Bat make your argument for you.

Another bar, another drunk cell-less jailbird, only this time you know that Jason is waiting in the shadows, that the Bat is in the rafters. The man stumbles, his too shiny shoes catching on the cracks in the pavement. Jason moves to raise his gun and a flicker of metal sends his aim wide. The man on your arm shies at the sound of gunfire but your grip is iron. A body slides between Jason and his prey and you refuse to let this one escape. The pen knife lodges beneath the jaw bone, catches on something and sticks. His death rattle is unsightly but he goes down easy, life slipping away down the sewer grate. A booted step, heavier than Jason’s, causes your head to snap up.

A wraith looms over you and it’s pure terror that sends your stomach into free fall. The Bat turns on you, advances until your back is pressed up against the brick. A gloved hand reaches for you but pulls back like stung when a bullet narrowly misses a finger.

“Last warning. Back. Off.” growls the modulated voice of the Red Hood. He prowls forward, legs eating up the distance. The Bat simply grunts. Back to the wall, you try to inch away, but the feeling of cold metal stops you. The cuff around your wrist cinches shut so tightly you can feel the bones of your wrist grind together. You whimper, high in your throat. Jason’s fist goes crashing into the cowl.

“I said back off!” the Bat catches his next punch, before returning a hit of his own.

“She just killed someone in cold blood, Hood. You’re protecting a murderer.”

“At least she did something, Bruce! D’you even know what that man did? What you let him do to this city?” he screams the last word then headbutts the Bat.

The alley descends into a flurry of blows, bodies colliding with metal and concrete. Neither of them notice you pick yourself up from knees and flee. Home’s not safe, not until Jason tells you. But he’ll come back for you. You’ve gotten so good at waiting for Jason, what’s a few hours more?

He finds you in the safe house he’d made you memorize the address of way back in the infancy of your relationship. Nerves have you sitting in the dark, too afraid that even a light will give you away. It is a cold kind of silence that blankets the small kitchen with its empty cupboards. Dried blood has started to flake off of your skin and you begin to pick at it. For a moment, the repetitive motions distract you until you can’t bear the prickly feeling on your skin anymore. With a clatter you rush to the tap, the trailing handcuff clanging against the metal sink. A stone rolls in your gut and you retch until there is nothing left in it. Everything rests on this. The future rests on this. You lean back and rest your forehead on the cool edge of the sink.

The sound of the window jimmying open causes you to jump, whirling around to face the threat. It’s Jason, only Jason, flailing around in the dark. The streetlights reflect off of his helmet, revealing the cracks in the patina. You launch yourself at him, fingers curling into the collar of his coat. He smells of blood and grime, but beneath it all, warmth. Jason crushes you to him, hand cradling the back of your head with a tenderness that overwhelms you.

“M’sorry I’m late baby,” he murmurs. “Why’s it so dark in here?” Unable to form words, you simply shake your head and press yourself closer. Fear has always dogged you, but never have you gotten so close to the source of it. Jason raises a hand and wraps it reassuringly around your wrist. “Let’s get some light and we’ll get this thing off of you,” he says while stroking a thumb over where the cuff digs into your skin.

You have to stifle a giggle at the absurd parallel to the night he tore back into your life. The two of you sat at a table tending to wounds inflicted by Gotham’s self-titled vengeance, the uncertainty of the future hanging over you. Hands gentler than they’ve ever been, Jason traces over the blooming bruises on your wrist, handcuffs discarded on the table.

“He’s never going to stop chasing me, is he?” you whisper, slow fear poisoning your voice. “He’s never gonna stop trying to take me away from you. Not while I’m alive.” Jason trails his grip to your palm and turns it over, brings it to his lips and places a featherlight kiss on your fourth knuckle.

“No, baby. Not while he’s alive.”

#jason todd x reader #jason todd x you #jason todd x y/n #jason todd fanfiction #jason todd fic #red hood x reader #red hood x you #red hood x y/n #red hood fic #sunnie writes 🌻

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aewon · 3 months ago

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yang jungwon- ache for you

jw x f!reader ☯︎ fluff, angst ☯︎ cursing, suggestive ☯︎ wc 842 ☯︎ not proofread

You considered Jungwon one of your close friends, having grown up next to each other and your families being close.

Where you were, he was.

And you hate to admit it, but over time, you grew to have a crush on him.

You can’t help it! He’s grown to be such a good person, not to mention handsome.

You’re certainly not the only one either.

It’s almost everyday you hear one girl or another talking about Jungwon.

You know they envy you for being close to him, but even so, you think he only sees you as a friend.

So, you’ve kept your feelings secret.

There have been numerous times where you’ve wanted to confess, but chickened out every time.

You can’t help but swoon whenever Jungwon talks about you to others, which is why when you hear him mention your name, you can’t help but listen around the corner of the hallway.

“She’s so fucking annoying. I get we’ve been friends since we were kids but it’s like I can never escape her. She’s always there, always clinging to me somehow, I wish she’d just back off.”

You feel your heart crack as you take in his words.

Is this how he’s felt about you all along? Or was this a recent feeling?

Either way, tears prick your eyes as you take a step back.

Without warning, someone turns the corner, coming into direct contact with you.

You look up and see Jungwon, a confused look on his face.

He sees the tears in your eyes and knows.

“Y/N…I-”

You put a hand up, telling him to stop.

Turning around, you begin walking away.

“Y/N, wait!”

His hand makes contact with your shoulder, but you shrug it off.

Making your way into the girls bathroom, somewhere he can’t follow you, you sit on the sink and let the tears flow, trying not to make any noise.

Jungwon stands outside the bathroom, trying to coax you to come out and talk to him.

Only when the bell rings do you hear footsteps leaving the area.

You freshen yourself up, splashing some cold water on your face before heading to class.

You spend the next few days completely avoiding Jungwon who is still attempting to talk to you.

Why? You’re giving him what he wanted.

He even came to your house, asking to see you but you told your parents you didn’t want to see him, to their surprise.

They begged you to tell them what happened but you refused.

Despite everything, you don’t want Jungwon getting into trouble.

Jungwon feels like his world is crashing down.

He knows that what he said was true, he did feel suffocated by you, but he didn’t go about it the right way.

He only started feeling this way recently, wanting space from you for a while.

No, he doesn’t hate you, he just wanted to spend some time apart.

Now he feels terrible for what he’s done.

He didn’t miss the side eye your parents gave him, wanting to know why their daughter refused to see him. He wanted to confess, tell the truth but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

As he lays in bed after another unsuccessful day of trying to talk to you, he thinks about the past 18 years of his life.

You’ve always been there, by his side through everything.

And now, he’s possibly ruined everything.

Jungwon reevaluates everything.

Why did he say what he said?

Because he felt suffocated by your presence.

But why?

He’d never had a problem until recently.

As he scrolls through your instagram, he looks at your most recent post.

You’re beautiful, you always have been.

Even at a young age, Jungwon thought you were pretty.

You’ve grown into an amazing, beautiful young woman.

He feels an ache in his heart at the thought of losing you.

He thinks about you, about your smile, your laugh.

Without realizing, he’s begun to ache somewhere other than his heart.

Looking down, he groans.

Now he has to go take a cold shower.

The next morning, you make your way to school, headphones in not hearing the footsteps behind you.

Jungwon throws himself in front of you, grabbing your shoulders so you stop.

Looking up at him, you try not to lean into his touch that you’ve missed so much.

“What,” you say, giving him a cold stare.

“I realized why I said what I said. It’s because I’m so infatuated with you, that I thought pushing you away would push my feelings away. I love you and I’m sorry.”

You freeze up under Jungwon’s hold, processing his confession.

“What?”

“I. Love. You.”

You feel tears begin to cascade down your cheeks, yet this time they’re not sad tears.

“Jungwon, you idiot.”

“I know,” he pulls you into a hug.

Wrapping your arms around him, you squeeze him tightly.

He pulls away, cupping your face and kissing you gently.

You kiss back, sighing in content.

When you walk into school, hands intertwined, you feel revived.

sorry for not posting for so long, hehe

tagging @pshbites cause she wanted me to ☺️

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ultr4vjolence · 1 year ago

Text

@ULTR4VJOLENCE MISC RECS .ᐟ

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AARON HOTCHNER

ᥫ᭡ a joyful future

a criminal minds big family!au where aaron gets the love and security he deserves.

ᥫ᭡ agents and asphodel

you hand in your resignation to the BAU.

there is no fanfare, no warning. one minute you’re there, and three weeks later, you’re gone, ousted at the insistence of strauss. but an unknown past holds the key to your personal horror story, one that you thought ended years before and is back with a vengeance — one set on taking you far, far away from the people you call your family.

ᥫ᭡ of terrible coffee and late-night rides

he watches you. maybe the two beers are going to his head, despite his infamous reputation as a heavyweight — all he knows is that his eyes follow as you slip through the crowds, sending beaming grins to some people you know from the office, and... you don’t know, do you? you don’t know how you make people feel. how you make every person you lay eyes on feel like they’re the only one you see; like they’re one in a million. important. you capture their attention with just one look and you keep it, too. you never go away — you burrow yourself into his brain and make a place for yourself there and—

their brains. that’s what he meant.

or: moments throughout your relationship with one aaron hotchner.

ᥫ᭡ moments

agent aaron hotchner, your boss, absolutely hated you. he was suspicious of your true intentions. but you were determined to prove yourself to him, no matter how long it took. or— the long, painful, winding road it takes for you and aaron to get your happily ever after.

ᥫ᭡ intelligence & issues

you’ve been working for the BAU for almost a year now. you know how you feel about your supervisor, but you also know it’s a lost cause. when the next case the BAU is assigned takes the team to your hometown, will it bring the two of you closer, or rip you apart for good?

ᥫ᭡ a hard day’s night

after graduation from the FBI Academy, all new agents go through a year of new agent training before becoming official agents of the bureau. by some stroke of luck, you get assigned to complete your training with the department you’ve always wanted to join— the behavioral analysis unit. you signed up for a year of profiling, case work, and catching serial killers, but you’re in for more than you could ever dream of…

ᥫ᭡ wanna be yours

professor hotchner’s criminal law class has a reputation. professor hotchner has a reputation. on your first day, you manage to draw his anger. he seems to hate you. what happens behind closed doors... that’s a different story.

ᥫ᭡ accidents

as the newest member of the BAU, you had nothing but professional respect for your boss, ssa aaron hotchner. sure, he was an attractive man, but your mind had never strayed even close to considering him as anything more than a capable and accomplished unit chief. this changes drastically through a series of “accidents” and in the end, there is nothing professional about your relationship anymore.

██▒▒▒▒▒▒▒▒ 20%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ SPENCER REID

ᥫ᭡ 3

is it okay to do wrong things for the right reasons? they say the road to hell is paved with good intentions (feat. unsub reader). this is not a love story. there will be no happy ending.

ᥫ᭡ phoenix

it’d been 10 weeks since spencer died in your arms. at least, that’s what you thought. (rewrite of the emily/doyle arc with spencer taking emily’s place)

ᥫ᭡ be a rebel, be bad, stay here and cuddle with me

“i love you, i love you,” he murmured between pecks. tangled in the sheets, his long arms still enveloped your form as he peeked up at the small clock on the bedside table behind you, a heavy sigh promptly escaping his lungs as he read the time, “but i really gotta get up and go to work…”

ᥫ᭡ here to misbehave

spencer spots you at a nightclub and quickly becomes smitten. only problem is he’s an FBI agent and you’re under 21.

ᥫ᭡ domesticity

reader gets worked up watching spencer with kids. he notices.

ᥫ᭡ santa’s gift

reader asks her husband what he wants for christmas.

ᥫ᭡ sunscreen & statistics

reader asks for spencer’s help putting on sunscreen (and washing it off after).

████▒▒▒▒▒▒ 40%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEGON II TARGARYEN

ᥫ᭡ when the world is crashing down

your family is house celtigar, one of rhaenyra’s wealthiest allies. in the aftermath of rook’s rest, aemond unknowingly conscripts you to save his brother’s life. now you are in the lair of the enemy, but your loyalties are quickly shifting…

ᥫ᭡ north to the future

the year is 1999. you are just beginning your veterinary practice in juneau, alaska. aegon is a mysterious, troubled newcomer to town. you kind of hate him. you are also kind of obsessed with him. falling for him might legitimately ruin your life… but can you help it? oh, and there’s a serial killer on the loose known only as the ‘ice fisher.’

█████▒▒▒▒▒ 50%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ AEMOND TARGARYEN

ᥫ᭡ the pawn in every lover’s game

when you’re ten, your father sends you to king’s landing to befriend a princess and woo a prince. a lioness growing up amongst dragons is a dangerous thing indeed.

ᥫ᭡ children of the empire

you are the eldest daughter of rhaenyra, princess of dragonstone, and twin to her heir, prince jacaerys. when your younger brother assails your uncle in a childhood squabble, your grandsire, the king viserys, offers your hand in marriage as payment for aemond’s lost eye. plighted in a match that is beheld by many and desired by none, you find yourself alone in a nest of vipers, forced to watch as your mother and the queen maneuver and vie for influence within the court and the realm. despite your youth, fears, and insecurity, you know you must apply your will and wits to one claim or another, but this choice becomes more and more difficult as you find yourself further entrenched within the family who would see your mother and siblings fed to the flames.

ᥫ᭡ studious

your marriage to the one-eyed prince is not as romantic as you hoped. the wedding night is beyond awkward and confusing, and afterward, your husband seems more than content to ignore you. but you keep finding yourself drawn to him, and the strange way he makes you feel.

ᥫ᭡ to make them love me (and make it seem effortless)

you clutch the collar of his shirt. “why do you want to marry me, aemond?”

he looks down at you, and his hands twitch by his sides, no doubt wanting to feel your warmth permeate through your clothes. he can feel your heart hammering underneath your ribs, and he’s sure that if you slide your hands lower, you could feel his racing similarly. your body melds so perfectly to his, and you breathe in sync, as if engaged in a dance of their own. every molecule of your body thrums to life underneath his fingers, every second that passes between you is charged with a tension that threatens to push the both of you over the precipice, and still you do not see.

he hates that, even with one eye, he does.

you await his answer with bated breath, but he sees the way your eyes briefly flicker down to his lips.

ᥫ᭡ take me to the lakes (where all the poets went to die)

you and prince aemond hadn’t seen each other for years since you left the red keep. now, you’re back.

ᥫ᭡ comet donati

sex, drugs, boy bands. you are a kinda-therapist recruited (via nepotism) to help comet donati through a recent crisis. things are casual with aegon, very not-casual with aemond. loosely inspired by one direction.

███████▒▒▒ 70%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ JOEL MILLER

ᥫ᭡ i know it when i see it

it’s the golden age of porn. sex and sin are the national pastime. you fled your suffocating small town to make dirty movies in the big city. you’re paired with joel miller for your first scene.

pornstar!joel miller AU

ᥫ᭡ allowed to be happy

while snowed in on a scouting mission, you tell dina the story of how you and joel met.

ᥫ᭡ mercy.

in a dog-eat-dog world of sliced throats and broken bones in exchange for primal survival, begging for mercy should have been the very last resort.

especially when a certain survivor was holding you at gunpoint.

ᥫ᭡ mr. rattlebone

settled in at jackson, joel and reader avoid their feelings for each other for their own safety.

ᥫ᭡ guard duty

guard duty was absolutely the worst, you thought to yourself with a bitter sense of resolution, but at least it meant some peace and quiet. the watchtower was set directly above the main entrance gate to jackson, a closed off wooden structure with stairs leading to the inside and an outer catwalk circulating it.

sometimes, the town could get on your nerves with how full of life and bustling it seemed to be; but you wouldn’t trade it for anything in the world. that sort of thing was a hidden oasis in a world like this, almost too good to be true, and you knew you were lucky to be part of it, even if it meant never ending guard duties at the early hours of morning, when the sun still wouldn’t be out for quite some time.

you sighed again.

“if you sigh one more time,” joel muttered in a monotonous voice, “i swear, i’m gonna throw you outta this window.”

ᥫ᭡ too early, too cold

early mornings are always slow, specially during winter.

█████████▒ 90%

𖥔 ˑ ִ ֗ ִ BELLAMY BLAKE

ᥫ᭡ sub rosa

it’s easy to think that you’re swimming in the sky. floating with the stars, weaving between them, part of the sky, the way you always dreamed you could be.

or, a clarke griffin!twin, bellamy blake x reader rewrite for the 100. complete.

ᥫ᭡ in this new light

slow, soft and sleepy morning sex.

ᥫ᭡ pretty fixation, wicked temptation

you and bellamy had spent a one-hundred-and-twenty-five years in cryosleep. a century of not touching each other catches up to both of you but finding somewhere to satiate your urges undisturbed is quite difficult. maybe a new planet will be just the place. but first, what’s a little challenge to heighten the tension?

██████████ 100%

A C C E S S G R A N T E D. . .

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hollandorks · 2 years ago

Text

in flames

battisnon! bruce wayne x CEO! vigilante! reader

summary: The reader encounters the Batman when stealing information from a murdered man one night. The next day at a meeting to merge her business with Wayne Enterprises, she meets Bruce Wayne for the first time--and he has a cut on his face exactly like the one she gave the Batman. When sparks fly, will they go down in flames?

a/n: look it's me back with another "oneshot" in which I'm too long winded! This one's smutty and full of banter--enjoy! (and yes I do have to use this gif whenever there's something sexy in the content oops)

***not affiliated with middle of the night***

*content is NSFW. 18+*

word count: 10,497

The window opened with barely a creak. Y/n slipped through carefully, quietly, every one of her senses on high alert.

Getting caught at an active crime scene would be a terrible look for her company, to say the least. Especially the night before a huge meeting about a potential merger.

But that part of her that had always existed–the part that fought against injustice, no matter how big or small, the part that used her position in life for good–wouldn’t let this rest.

A man had been murdered, after all.

A man who was a murderer himself. A man who hurt people, repeatedly, for his own gain.

She left the window open the barest crack in case she needed to make a quick getaway, but still closed enough that it didn’t look like it had been tampered with. She’d learned that lesson the hard way over the years she’d been doing this.

She waited a beat in the silence of the night to make sure nothing was stirring.

The penthouse apartment was utterly quiet.

She knew from a couple of hours of observation that there was only one cop posted outside the apartment door and another in the lobby. She guessed they hadn’t expected anyone to come in from the roof. And hadn’t that been how the Riddler had gotten in to kill the mayor the year before? GCPD were never going to learn.

Y/n bit back a sigh. A year, and things in Gotham were still shit.

Well, she was working on that. Not only did she shore up charitable donations in the city, but she also had taken notes from the Batman and decided to take matters into her own hands–in secret of course. She did good work with her money and her company by day, and a different sort of work by night in disguise.

While she didn’t have the gadgets or physical strength like Batman did, she had her own set of skills. Namely, plenty of friends in places both low and high, willing to help her out because they all owed her favors. She dealt in secrets, and secrets were what led to real change in the city.

Not violence. Not death. Not even good, old-fashioned police work.

Secrets from the right person leveraged in the right way wrought change with little effort.

And secrets were what she was currently after.

The man who’d been murdered–a former city councilman who had just announced his run for Senate and his plan to eventually run for president–was scum just like all the powerful people the Riddler had murdered a year before.

Y/n didn’t condone murder, but she did believe in bringing the darkness into the light. That part of the Riddler’s manifesto, at least, she could get behind. As fucking crazy as the guy was, she really couldn’t blame him for wanting to correct some of the shitstorm that was the city of Gotham. His methods had been all wrong, though. She didn’t hurt anybody. She merely told the truth about them.

It was pure chance that her target had been murdered. There had been a string of robberies in the upper class neighborhood–and this time, the apartment hadn’t been empty as expected. The thieves had killed him in their surprise. It had always been her plan to rob the man, just not his valuables. She was after his secrets so she could expose him and ruin his political career.

Now one man was dead and the thief turned murderer was in a jail cell. The city was lauding one and villainizing the other. But they didn’t know what she knew, what she was seeking to reveal to the city at large.

Y/n knew the truth. Not only was the Senate campaign paid for with all kinds of dirty money, but that money had also been stolen from all kinds of charities–several of which y/n was directly involved with and one she had started herself.

Even if she hadn’t been involved in the aforementioned charities, her blood would have curdled at every other secret this former councilman had hidden. The skeletons in his closet were overflowing, all clambering over each other, multiplying the more she dug.

And apparently, the man was old fashioned and had several paper copies of his nefarious dealings hidden in a personal safe. The police had checked the other safe, the one the thief had been trying to get into when he shot the former councilman. All along there had been another, smaller, much more important safe underneath the man’s desk.

It was this safe y/n aimed for.

She bent underneath the desk and got to work picking the lock.

It took nearly ten minutes, not her best work, but finally the damn thing opened with a soft click. Sadly, her informant hadn’t known the code, but y/n was adept at safe cracking and lock picking.

Every hair on the back of her neck rose.

It was instinct born of her nightly activities, or it was the soft movement of air as someone snuck through the apartment, or maybe it was the barest sound of a shoe against the hardwood. Somehow, she very suddenly knew she wasn’t alone.

Y/n didn’t hesitate. She whirled and threw one of the many knives on her at the person sneaking up behind her. The aim was to scare, not to kill. In the same moment, she grabbed everything from the hidden safe and tucked it under her arm.

The knife nicked the side of the Batman’s jaw as he easily stepped out of the way.

Shit, she thought, because she had expected another thief or maybe a cop. And he was close, closer than she’d expected.

She hadn’t expected Gotham’s favorite vigilante to be right behind.

The Batman didn’t hesitate either. He darted forward so fast she barely saw more than a blur of shadow. With a curse out loud this time, she dodged, hip banging painfully against the corner of the desk as she moved out of the way.

“It’s not what it looks like,” she said in a low voice.

“It’s exactly what it looks like,” the masked man said. They were both keeping as quiet as possible. She didn’t think either of them would want the cop outside knowing someone had broken into the apartment.

He lunged. She ducked under his arm and kicked at the back of his knee. He grunted but didn’t go down. She frowned but had no time to alter course before his hand grabbed her upper arm and yanked. All of the papers she’d taken scattered across the floor.

Y/n chopped at his elbow, hand stinging as it connected to whatever his armor was made out of.

“Ow,” she muttered as she tried to release herself from his tight grip. Damn, he was strong. She aimed a kick towards his balls but his free hand caught her ankle. Now he had her arm and her leg. She bared her teeth at him and forced herself closer to take him off guard. He wasn’t easily fooled, though, and only held her tighter.

“I’m not stealing, you fucker,” she hissed. Her chest pressed up against the hard planes of armor. Batman stared down at her, eyes almost blank underneath the mask. He was taller and broader than her, and showed no signs of his grip lessening.

“Then why did you take papers out of that safe?” he asked in a gravelly baritone that made her shiver. She hadn’t realized that the Batman was…kind of hot.

“Take a look at them and you’ll see why.” She wriggled again but he didn’t let go.

He stared down at her for a long moment. Finally, he moved enough to bend over and gather up the papers with one hand. His other hand still had her by the wrist.

“I’m not going to run,” she said with an annoyed sigh. “I’m doing what you do–fixing corruption.”

The vigilante straightened and glanced at the topmost paper in his hand. He frowned.

“Is this all true?”

She craned her neck to see what, exactly, he was looking at.

“Yes, it’s all true.” She gave up trying to get out of his hold. He was too strong, too fast. “That’s all I was after. I have a contact at GC1 news I was going to send it to. Make it public that this guy was a piece of shit who’s better off dead.”

Batman simply stared at her. The cut across his jaw was shallow but bleeding steadily.

“Then why break in?” he finally asked.

“Why’d you break in?” she countered. His grip loosened slightly. She silently began to count down. She didn’t want this asshole taking her hard-earned information to the police or anyone else. She wanted it public and she needed the papers in his gloved hands in order to do so.

“I’m investigating,” he said with a slight narrowing of his eyes. “And catching thieves.”

“I’m not a thief!”

She used his distraction to yank her hand back, grab the papers, and dart away.

Batman caught her by the suit at the scruff of her neck.

Rage welled up inside y/n and she struck out with her leg. In the same movement she twisted to face him. Her foot connected with his chest. He barely moved. He didn’t make a sound, either, as if she was simply an insect bothering him.

“If you’re not a thief,” he said while blocking the blow from her fist. She kept backing up towards the window she’d left cracked, even as they exchanged a flurry of blows. “Then why did you break in? Why did you throw a knife?”

She almost winced. “You snuck up on me, okay? You were closer than I thought. I wasn’t aiming to hit you.”

“But you were aiming to steal.” Again, he caught her by the ankle as she tried to kick him. She growled as she was forced to hop on her other foot to remain balanced.

“Yes, we went over this. Nothing else nefarious is going on.” She crossed her heart with her free hand for emphasis.

Quicker than she thought possible, the Batman released her foot. It knocked her off balance and she stumbled.

He pulled off her mask.

Her heart stopped. She froze, panting heavily from their little bit of sparring, and stared at him in fear.

“Don’t–” she said, but no other words would come.

“I’m keeping this,” he said as he held up the mask. “Do what you want with those papers. Then stop breaking into places.”

He had her mask. He was looking her dead in the eyes. She might not have been easily recognizable like other wealthy CEOs in Gotham, but if her merger with Wayne Enterprises went through the next day…her picture would be everywhere. And then he’d know who she was.

She half-snarled and darted towards her mask. The Batman easily kept it out of her reach.

“Give it back!” she said in a voice that was much too loud.

They both froze as the apartment door clicked–a key in the lock.

Shit, the cop was coming to check on them.

She and the Batman exchanged a glance.

Her mind tripped over itself trying to get past her fight, flight, or freeze instincts all warring for attention. She needed her mask, but if she got caught…it was over.

Fuck it, she had to leave the mask.

“Fucker,” she mumbled to the other vigilante as she fled for the window. He didn’t stop her.

As she closed it behind her, she chanced a glance in the window. The Batman was gone. A cop was walking through, shining his flashlight over every shadow.

Y/n stared for a beat longer.

Then she scrambled up to the roof to grab her things and run like hell.

First she had information to leak to the press. Then she had a board meeting to prepare for. At least she had the files now.

She could get revenge against that asshole vigilante some other time.

–

Y/n dressed carefully for her meeting the next morning. It never hurt to dress to impress, she reasoned. She needed to look strong, capable, but not dowdy. Men were simple creatures and she figured Bruce Wayne was no different. If she could impress him, the merger would go through.

Her pantsuit was simple and black, tailored to perfectly accent her body. Underneath she wore a red silk shirt–red for power, red for purpose. Red to match her favorite lipstick.

The news played in the background as she finished her makeup and hair. The information she’d given the news was already everywhere. She tried not to feel too smug, but it was hard. She’d taken that bastard’s reputation down, sent it to hell where it and he belonged. And now investigations were starting–investigations that would hopefully help the people he wronged. That would give money back to the charities and families he had stolen from.

She was so focused on her triumph that she didn’t have time to be angry at the asshole vigilante who’d stolen her mask. She could get another one made–but it would take a while. It was custom made, bulletproof and made to perfectly fit her face. Maybe this time she’d request it hook to her suit, too, that way it wouldn’t be so easy to steal next time.

She and her team were the first ones in the boardroom at Wayne Enterprises. They were early, but only by a few minutes. She shuffled her papers quietly and pulled up the current contract on her laptop. They would be discussing terms in that meeting and hopefully everyone would win. In another tab she had cost and profit projections in neat little graphs.

Merging with Wayne Enterprises was going to change her life. Her business would thrive even more, have more reach, be able to give more to charity. She knew Bruce Wayne liked charitable giving–his parents had been philanthropists and he had started a relief. She had made sure to include all this in her pros and cons list that she’d emailed the Wayne CEO at the beginning of the merger talks.

“Good morning,” said a member of the Wayne Enterprises board from the doorway. She and her team stood and started shaking hands.

Bruce Wayne was the last one in the door. He didn’t shake anyone’s hand, merely went to the opposite end of the conference table from y/n.

As they all sat, Bruce Wayne looked up and met her gaze.

They both startled.

Recognition flitted across his face before he could hide it.

Her own mouth parted in shock.

Bruce Wayne had a long cut across one side of his jaw. A cut that perfectly matched the one she’d given a certain vigilante the night before.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

–

“–not saying that we shouldn’t, but after all the bad luck with the Riddler last year–”

Bruce Wayne interrupted y/n with a growl in his voice. “Bad luck? Bad luck? He’s a psychopath who murdered people and blew up half the city! It’s not–”

“You know what I meant!” she shot right back.

There had been a moment, at the beginning of the meeting, where everyone was introduced and the terms of the contract were read aloud and y/n and Bruce had simply stared at each other. The moment stretched into silence, and all she could think was, Holy fucking shit.

Bruce Wayne was the Batman.

It had devolved from there.

Bruce had immediately shot down several of the terms she had insisted on, which pissed her off. Her rebuttal had been appropriately angry, which had pissed him off. Every beat of her heart had her more and more worried he’d reveal her identity and she’d be fired on the spot.

After half an hour, they’d argued about several things, and she finally started to stop worrying about him outing her.

That didn’t mean he didn’t piss her off with every word out of his mouth.

Now, here they were, half-shouting at each other from across the long table, both of them the only ones standing. Bruce had his hands flat on the table as he shot daggers at her with his eyes and his words. She stood with a hand on her hip, just as angry as she was.

The worst part was, they’d been using an intermediary to even draft the contract they were there to discuss. And now he suddenly had a bunch of issues with it? It was in his fucking favor.

There was a soft clearing of a throat that shut them both up mid bickering.

“I think we should table this for the day,” said the intermediary. She was pretty sure he wasn’t there to act as a literal mediator. “We can reconvene at the same time tomorrow. Why don’t we have both sides draw up new proposals in the meantime.”

Everyone was staring at them, at their behavior, and it only served to piss her off more.

“Well I’m okay with getting this finished today,” y/n said petulantly. She glared at Bruce Wayne.

“Let’s table it,” he said as he glared right back. She had a feeling that he was only saying that to disagree with her, not because he actually thought it was a bad idea.

She ground her teeth together so hard she was pretty sure the whole table could hear it. “Fine, same time tomorrow.”

She was too angry to feel embarrassed at her squabbling with the CEO of Wayne Enterprises like two rival schoolchildren. Not only had this fucker taken her mask, but he also was trying to fuck her with her company too. All this work she’d put into the contract, into the merger, and he was blowing it off like it was nothing.

She stormed out of the room without another word, headed straight for the elevator, and muttered curse words under her breath the entire way. It didn’t help her feel better, but she had to blow off some of the steam rising in her somehow or she was going to burst into angry flames and take down the whole building, his apartments included.

Inside the elevator, she took a deep breath. She’d have to rewrite the entire contract, which would probably take all night. The only thing that made her feel better was that Bruce Wayne had to do the same thing if he wanted any of his terms put up for consideration.

She imagined him in his full Batman costume pouring over the contracts and snorted to herself. Of course, he probably just had someone do it for him and send it to him to review, but the mental image cheered her slightly.

As if her thoughts had conjured him, a hand caught the closing elevator doors, and in stepped Bruce Wayne.

The doors slid closed beside them.

Y/n had to bite her lip to keep from making a rude comment. There were several of them warring to get out at once.

“Mr. Wayne,” she said instead, but she let all of the built up anger and venom come through her words.

He put his hands in his suit pockets and sighed. She had to admit, even as mad as he made her, he looked damn good. He was wearing a tailored dark blue suit that made his blue eyes pop. His long, dark hair was tousled as if he’d woken up right before coming to the meeting. He was tall, his shoulders broad, and his damn jawline was so sharp it looked like it had cut itself with the damage her knife had inflicted. And the cut along the jaw just made it worse–he looked mysterious, handsome, like he was full of secrets waiting to be discovered. Which, she guessed, he was.

He stared down at her, back ramrod straight, and seemed to grow in the small space. He reached a hand out and without looking hit a button that made the elevator stop.

She simply waited. She was pretty sure she knew what was coming. She crossed her arms and raised an eyebrow.

Bruce leaned in very close–close enough that she could smell whatever fresh scent of shampoo or deodorant he used. It was a masculine scent that made her pulse jump as he got close enough for her to feel his breath.

“If you tell anyone,” he said in a voice that definitely dredged up all sorts of images of darkness and shadows and bat wings. It also made her think of silk sheets and shadowy beds.

Feeling bold, y/n stepped closer. Their chests brushed now. “Is this a threat, Mr. Wayne?”

Something flashed in his eyes and her traitorous body decided to get really, really turned on. His jaw clenched so tightly she expected to hear an audible snap. She could practically see his internal struggle not to be an asshole and it made her want to laugh. It was almost too easy to rile him up.

He took a step back, expression suddenly vulnerable. “It would be…very bad for me, and those close to me…if you told anyone. So, please. Just don’t–please.”

She softened a little. She hadn’t expected the please. “Hey, I’ve got a big secret too, remember? I won’t tell.” He gave a single sharp nod. “I want my mask back,” she added.

“No,” he said as he leaned against the elevator wall. She could see their reflections in the shiny metallic ceiling. He was a blur of dark blue, she a pop of red. Opposites, of course.

“Why the fuck not?” she asked. She crossed her arms again. The softness she’d felt towards him was completely gone just like that.

Bruce straightened and got into her space again. Granted, it might not have been on purpose since he was so tall and the elevator was small. He lowered his voice, eyes flickering to her red lips, and said, “To keep you out of trouble.”

Y/n had no excuse for what happened next. As if possessed, she matched his step forward and let her hand slide up his chest to his shoulder. He swallowed hard, seemingly nervous.

“I can get into all kinds of trouble without the mask,” she murmured. Her eyes traced his lips this time.

And maybe it was because he was handsome and he was there. Maybe it was because they shared so many similarities. Or maybe she wanted to one up him somehow, and knew this would do the trick.

No matter the reason, y/n stretched up and captured Bruce Wayne’s mouth with her own.

He froze for a second, going unnaturally still, before he seemed to shake it off.

She couldn’t help the small groan that escaped when his tongue traced her bottom lip or the one that slipped out when he grabbed her waist and pulled her flush against him. One of her hands slipped inside his suit jacket while the other tangled in his hair. He groaned this time, and it went straight through her like a meteor, lighting her on fire as it went.

Her back bumped against the cold elevator wall, the railing digging into her, and she let herself be lifted so her ass sat on top of it. It was barely big enough to balance on, but provided enough leverage for Bruce to slide between her legs. She could feel his arousal press against her, right where she wanted him, and she couldn’t help the small shift of her hips.

Bruce grabbed her tighter.

She bit his lower lip and grinned when he jerked back.

“That was for being a jerk earlier,” she said.

He stared down at her. His dark hair was mussed. The blackness of his pupils had almost overtaken the bright blue.

Y/n lifted her hips to grind against him. His breath shook, eyelids fluttering closed. He felt so good against her like this, warm and strong and solid.

But then he let go and stepped away from her. He straightened his suit and wiped her lipstick off of his own mouth.

“Was it something I said?” she asked, teasing to cover up the hurt that was stinging through her like small thorns.

“I shouldn’t have done that,” he said. He jabbed the same button from earlier and the elevator lurched into motion once more.

She frowned at him. He didn’t bother looking at her. “So you’re going to leave me and my business high and dry?”

No answer. She scoffed. “And here I thought you were different from the typical rich man.”

His shoulders stiffened but he still didn’t say a word. Above their heads, the elevator counted down as they slowly got closer and closer to the ground floor.

“Don’t you live in the penthouse?” she asked with another frown, distracted from her annoyance by the descending numbers.

“Yes,” he said, but didn’t elaborate.

“Then let’s go up there so you can give me my damn mask back.”

The elevator dinged as they reached the lobby.

“No,” he said over his shoulder as he stepped out.

She watched him stride away on impossibly long legs.

“Fuck,” she said, half annoyed with him, half with herself. She wanted to chase after him and slap some sense into him. Or chase after him and kiss him again. Her whole body tingled from the adrenaline of their meeting followed by quite possibly the best kiss she’d ever had.

And he still wouldn’t give her damn mask back.

With another soft growl of frustration, she stepped out of the elevator. She had no choice but to head home and start working on the damn contract. That, and she had to order a replacement mask. Hopefully her supplier still had her measurements on file.

–

The next morning, y/n decided to do something stupid.

She left two hours early for their makeup merger meeting and stopped at the reception desk with her most winning smile.

“Good morning,” she said brightly. “They messed up my order this morning so I have an extra latte. Do you want it?”

“Oh–Yeah, sure, thanks. I was running late this morning so I haven’t had time to get coffee,” the young girl said. She took the proffered coffee and inhaled deeply with a soft sound of appreciation. “You’re a lifesaver.”

“Oh, don’t worry about it, it was free.” She smiled again. It definitely hadn’t been free and was, in fact, part of her stupid plan. “I’m just heading up to see Mr. Wayne. He forgot to give me the code to get up there. I don’t think he’s awake yet.” She winked and laughed. “We’re going over this merger contract some more before we bring all the big boys in on it.”

She waved a file folder in the air. It was a copy of her amended contract, to be fair. And she did want to talk to Bruce about it. But she also wanted to maybe snoop around and get her mask back and maybe also find out where he hid his Batman armor.

“Sure, no problem,” the receptionist said cheerfully. She scribbled a note with one hand and sipped her coffee with the other. Y/n relaxed. She thought for sure she’d be told a very firm no. She’d imagined Bruce being summoned from the top of the tower to come curse her out in front of all of his employees. She supposed being a CEO in her own right made it easier to get into a forbidden space. Hell, this girl probably thought she and Bruce were going to go over the contract naked.

And wasn’t that an idea.

Y/n thanked the girl and practically skipped to the private elevator she was directed to. It gave her no small amount of joy to get one up on Bruce again. She spent the whole long ride up to the penthouse smiling as she imagined the look on his face when she interrupted his breakfast.

She knew it was stupid–really, she did. The merger was tentative now because of their show in the boardroom and she was sure their kiss hadn’t helped matters at all.

She didn’t stop and question why she was doing this or what she hoped to get out of it. Mostly she wanted to bother Bruce, get her mask back, and maybe, hopefully iron out some of the kinks in the merger plan. She had a feeling they would both be better without an audience.

The elevator made no noise as it slid to a stop and opened its doors.

Y/n stopped in her tracks.

Wayne Tower’s penthouse was…like the inside of a gothic church. The ceilings were tall and sweeping, full of detailed arches, sculptures, and well, a lot of dust.

“Hello,” said a soft, accented voice. She turned and saw an aging man with a cane, his salt and pepper hair styled perfectly neat, his clothes pressed and clean. “Is Mr. Wayne…expecting you?”

She didn’t miss the way his hand strayed to his side and the telltale bulge underneath his shirt. He was armed. His expression was polite, kind even, but there was a glint in his eyes that said he meant business.

She held up her trusty file folder. “I came to go over some stuff about the merger. I’m y/n. I don’t know if he told you about uh…our argument in the meeting yesterday, so I’m here to apologize and smooth things over.” She shrugged as if sheepish.

“The day you apologize is the day my father becomes mayor,” said a familiar voice.

She turned, and there was Bruce. He was dressed in dark sweatpants and nothing else, running a towel over his damp hair. She hated that her entire body reacted to the sight of him shirtless. He was muscular. Scarred, too, but it made sense with his nightly activities.

Her mouth was too dry to talk. Finally, she cleared her throat and said, “Well, you better get out the confetti because I really am here to say I’m sorry.” Okay, maybe it hadn’t actually been part of her plan but…she could say two little words in exchange for saving the merger.

Bruce and the older man exchanged a look. Bruce made a dismissive wave. The man nodded once and disappeared down a hallway.

They stared at each other in silence. Bruce slung the towel over one bare shoulder. She tried not to stare, she really did, but it was next to impossible. God, did he have to be so fucking good looking on top of everything else?

“How’d you get in here?” Bruce finally asked. He crossed his arms, which only served to show off his biceps and pectorals.

Stop staring! y/n mentally shouted at herself. She tore her eyes away and met his gaze.

“I flirted with the receptionist,” she said. She was rewarded with Bruce’s shock. He opened and then abruptly closed his mouth before he schooled his expression.

“Poor Stella,” he said after a beat.

She couldn’t help her laugh. “I bought her coffee and told her the truth. I came to talk about the contract. And…okay, maybe I wasn’t going to apologize, but I did intend to smooth things over. That counts for something, right?”

Bruce’s lips compressed like he was trying not to smile. “I should have let Alfred shoot you.”

She let out a startled laugh. “I did sneak into your home, so…”

“Well, come on then,” Bruce said, gesturing for her to follow him.

“Where are we going?” she asked uncertainly.

“We’re going to have breakfast and go over the damn contract.”

“And you’re going to give in to all of my demands and grovel at my feet, right?” she said to his unfairly muscled back.

He turned his head just enough that she could see his arched eyebrow.

“Hey, it was worth a shot.”

Breakfast went well, at first. She and Bruce joked together like they were old friends as they ate. He told her about the time he’d snuck out on break from college and had tried to sneak back in, only for Alfred to catch him and threaten to shoot him.

Then the talk shifted to business, and they started arguing all over again. She shouldn’t have brought up the controversial Renewal Fund, she knew that, but it had been an accident. An accident that pissed Bruce off, apparently.

“I’m just saying that we should have more checks and balances,” she said through gritted teeth as Alfred cleared their plates. He was Bruce’s butler, apparently, though he seemed more like an uncle or something.

“I don’t disagree,” Bruce said. He rubbed the space between his brows with his thumb.

“You are literally disagreeing!” She threw her hands in the air in exasperation.

“Not about that!”

“Then what? That the Renewal Fund wasn’t used to fund the corrupt? That it wasn’t an absolute shit show?” She tapped her pointer finger on the table with every other word.

Bruce stared at her. “All of that is true.”

“You are so–” She made a frustrated noise. “So fucking annoying!”

“If you would listen to me for a moment, maybe you wouldn’t get so frustrated.” He glared at her between his fingers as he continued rubbing at what was apparently a massive headache caused by her.

“I am listening! I don’t–I mean, come on, you run around dressed as a bat every night to try and make a goddamn difference in the city. And now suddenly your morals change?” She smacked her hand against the wood table so hard it hurt. “Of course I’m frustrated.”

Bruce’s gaze went flat. “That has no bearing on what I do in my company,” he finally said after a long pause.

She inhaled deeply. “Shouldn’t it, though?”

“What are you saying?” Both of his palms were pressed flat on the table. Every line of him was rigid as if he were about to snap.

“Jesus, if you’d chill for a second,” she muttered, then straightened. “I’m saying that my company is charitable. That’s one of our core values. We hire the underprivileged, we give back to the community, we work to build up Gotham brick by brick. And what does Wayne Enterprises do? Give to charity once or twice a year? Sometimes help with relief funds where there’s a flood caused by a psychopath?”

“You’re saying you don’t think this will work because I’m not charitable enough?” Disbelief colored his tone even though his face remained carefully neutral. His nostrils flared though as he breathed in deep and let it out, the only sign she was truly getting under his skin. “Because I shut down the Renewal Fund?”

“I know what you do every night. I commend it. It’s–actually pretty fucking amazing. But that’s only one thing. Bruce Wayne, CEO, can do…so much more in the light of day. Why do you think I do both, too? So all I’m saying is, maybe if we join forces….we can really make a change. At night and during the day. You understand?”

Bruce stood abruptly and started pacing. “You shouldn’t be doing that kind of stuff.”

“Neither should you,” she said dryly. “And that’s not stopping you.”

Bruce paused in his pacing. He opened his mouth but she interrupted, her annoyance rising all over again.

“I swear if you say it’s different for you, I’ll punch you so hard you’ll forget your name.”

He closed his mouth again.

“Seriously,” she said. She stood to better face him. “You’ve got some kind of weird savior complex going on and it’s getting on my nerves.”

He raised one dark eyebrow. “Savior complex?”

“Yes!” She resisted the urge to stomp her foot like a child.

“And you’re qualified to comment on this after–” He pretended to check a watch he wasn’t wearing. “Only knowing me for about thirty-two hours?”

“You’re not as much of a mystery as you like to think, Mr. Wayne. You run around every night and yes, you do plenty for the city. But you think you have to do it alone. I don’t know if it’s because you think you’re better than anyone else or what, but newsflash–other people want to help Gotham too.” She crossed her arms again and stared him down. His eyes narrowed. “Other people can help Gotham.”

“It’s dangerous,” he finally said after a long minute of glaring at each other.

“No shit, Sherlock,” she said. She couldn’t help the roll of her eyes that went along with the words. “I’m not hurting anyone. Hell, I usually wait until places are empty to steal information. That’s what I deal with–secrets and information. I’m barely in danger.”

“How do I know you won’t steal information from me?”

She grit her teeth. “Are you doing anything illegal? Other than, you know, being a vigilante, I mean. I don’t care about that.”

“No.” His jaw flexed and he looked away.

“Then what the fuck is your problem?” She’d been doing so well at squashing the annoyance that kept rising within her. “Are you just trying to be an asshole? You lose nothing with this merger, don’t you get that? All I’m asking is for you to use your fucking money for good. You know, I bet your dad would be so disappointed that–”

“Get out.” The words were a growl. All at once something in him shifted and she saw a shadow of a cape and mask. Something in him was all predator now.

She hesitated. She hadn’t meant to actually piss him off. “Bruce–”

“Get. Out.” He pointed a single, threatening finger. He seemed to loom even larger, his body taking up twice the amount of space with its anger.

“I just meant that–”

He took a step forward and damn it if she didn’t feel a small jolt of fear. She scrambled to grab her stuff.

“The meeting is canceled,” he said in a calmer voice. “Now get out.”

“You’re canceling?” She paused in the process of gathering her things. “No way. I’m going to talk to your board about canceling the merger, I–”

“Not the merger, just the meeting.” Without another word, Bruce turned and left. She imagined a shadow following him, a physical manifestation of his anger. Somewhere, a door slammed.

Grinding her teeth, y/n grabbed all of her stuff and stomped back to the elevator. “Stupid, stubborn, asshole of a man,” she muttered the whole way. Sure, maybe she shouldn’t have brought up his dad. But she had a point and he knew it. That was why he was so pissed off.

And canceling their meeting? What a dick.

She stopped before hitting the button that would take her to the lobby.

“You know what?” she said out loud. “I’m just going to wait.” She glanced around at the imitation of a spooky castle. “Hear that?” she shouted. “I’m not fucking leaving until you see sense!”

Her voice echoed around the space. She half-expected a hoard of bats to take off from the rafters far above. She bit back an almost hysterical laugh. Maybe there were bats hiding up there. That’s probably where he got the idea from.

She leaned back against the wall next to the elevator.

“Am I going to have to have you arrested for trespassing?”

Y/n jumped. Standing in the entrance to a hallway on her left was Alfred, the butler or…whatever he was. Security. Uncle. Bruce hadn’t ever actually clarified that point.

“Oh–Uh–” It was one thing to try to get back at Bruce. Alfred, frankly, intimidated her. And he seemed nice, unlike Bruce, which made her loathe to get on his nerves. “I was just–”

“I take it the meeting didn’t go so well?” he said, letting her off the hook.

She relaxed slightly. “Oh, it went perfectly. We yelled at each other for half an hour, debated the morality of vigilantes, and then when I accidentally brought up his dad, he kicked me out.”

Alfred’s eyebrows practically disappeared into his hair. “Oh?” he said.

Right. She probably wasn’t supposed to know that Bruce was Batman. “I uh…we actually met the night before last,” she said. “He stole my mask.”

She was impressed that he didn’t show any emotion. “Did he?”

“And I cut his face. It was an accident, but at yesterday’s meeting I noticed and…well. You probably know what I noticed.”

Alfred hummed and relaxed his posture. “You didn’t tell anyone?”

“Like I said, he stole my mask. I don’t give a shit what he does.” She shrugged. It was the truth. “All I want is for this merger to not only benefit our companies, but Gotham too. And for some reason the guy who runs around at all hours of the night protecting the city is suddenly waffling about using some of his buckets of cash to do some fucking good.”

Alfred did the last thing she expected. He laughed. “Oh, I like you. Come on.” He waved her over and went to, of all things, another elevator.

“Where are we going?” she asked, wondering if maybe there was a dungeon beneath this place that Alfred was tricking her into. “And why does this goddamn tower have so many elevators?”

Alfred put in a code and stepped inside an elevator that was a lot…grungier than the others she’d been in inside of Wayne Tower. He pressed his thumb to a keypad and entered another code. He then hit a button labeled only B before the thing started to lower. Basement, maybe?

“This one is only for Bruce and I.”

“Are you taking me to the dungeon?” she asked with a raised eyebrow.

Alfred chuckled. “You’ll see.”

“So that’s all it takes to get into Bruce Wayne’s inner sanctum, huh?” She leaned against the side of the elevator. “Sneak into the penthouse, pick a fight, and reveal that I know his deepest secret to his…uncle?”

“Butler,” Alfred said. He shifted grip on his cane. “And Bruce needs someone to pick a fight with him.”

“I really feel like you’re about to lock me in a dungeon.”

The elevator jerked to a stop. There was a gate across the opening that rattled as it parted.

Alfred gestured for y/n to step out, so she did. She was surprised to see Alfred was staying inside. He winked at her and was gone as the elevator ascended again.

“Is she gone?” Bruce’s voice echoed around her and a chittering noise started in its wake.

The space around her was…dark. She was standing on a platform with steps in front of her that led down to a wide open space. The edges of the area were in deep shadow and everything echoed strangely. Her eyes lifted to the dark ceiling and–holy shit, those were bats.

Her gaze landed next on two words carved into the stone overhand: Wayne Station.

“No, actually, she’s not,” y/n said as she followed the stairs down to where Bruce was. He had a shirt on now, at least. He was standing at a desk with several computer screens, hunched over as he scribbled something down. All around them were tables, computers, various tools, random pieces of Batman’s suit, two motorcycles, and a car on a ramp with one of those cloth covers over it.

Bruce whirled at the sound of her voice. “What–”

“Alfred let me in,” she said with a triumphant grin. The pen in Bruce’s hand cracked from the force of his grip.

Bruce growled and turned back to what he was doing, unceremoniously flinging his pen to the side. “Alfred,” he muttered as if it were a curse.

“He said you need someone to pick a fight with you. All I did was tell him I knew your secret and poof, here we are.” She greedily took in the space around her. It was so interesting. She had a feeling she was seeing a manifestation of Bruce’s mind. There were blueprints, all kinds of gadgets in various stages of completion, and a dummy dressed in his Batman armor and mask.

“He–” Bruce muttered something else she didn’t catch.

“Listen, I can pick a fight if you want, or you can show me all of this cool stuff.” There was almost a giddiness rising within her. He had so many cool gadgets, things she’d never dreamed of having. No wonder he was such a good vigilante.

Bruce glared at her for a moment before turning back to whatever it was he was doing. It looked like he was making notes on a blueprint of some sort. The drawing looked like a car. Kind of. “It isn’t stuff,” she thought she heard him mumble, but she wasn’t sure.

“Ooh, okay, fine. Let’s pick another fight. Will you get pissed off if I start moving stuff around?” It was too easy to tease him, she thought as she reached out and lifted something that looked an awful lot like a grenade. Her fingers had barely wrapped around it when Bruce’s hand shot out and grabbed her wrist.

“Put that down.”

She grinned at him and obliged. “That’s a yes, then. What if I touch this?” she asked as she picked up something that looked like the armbands he wore on his wrists. It was a lot heavier than she expected. Goddamn, he wore those things every night? Her wrist felt like it was about to break just from holding it.

He snatched it from her.

A small laugh escaped her lips. “You’re too easy a target.” She reached blindly for something else.

He caught both of her wrists in his hands this time. “Stop doing that.”

“Who pissed in your wheaties this morning, huh?” she asked as he yanked her away from the tempting pile of stuff.

“You did,” he said. He still hadn’t let her go.

“Listen,” she said after a beat. “I didn’t mean to–bring up anything by mentioning your dad, okay? I was frustrated.”

“Understatement of the year,” he muttered. He glanced away but didn’t let her go.

“I’m going to let that one slide because I really am sorry.” She shrugged as best as she could from within his grip. Her eyes trailed past him, over his shoulder, and she jerked. “Hey! That’s my fucking mask!”

She yanked hard against him but he didn’t let her go.

“I told you, you’re not getting it back,” he said firmly. He was scowling down at her.

“You fucker,” she said. “I already ordered a new one, anyways. Made some improvements.”

He sighed long and loud through his nose, eyes closed as if he were trying to find inner peace or something.

“Will you let me go?” she asked.

“Will you stop touching stuff?” he asked, eyes opening. She didn’t miss the way his pupils expanded as he continued to stare at her.

“That depends,” she said with a bold step forward. “Is there anything I am allowed to touch?” She said it so seductively that there wasn’t a question about her meaning. She let her chest brush against his.

Bruce said nothing but his grip loosened.

She slid one of her hands up his chest and rested it on his shoulder. “Do I really piss you off that much?” she murmured.

“Yes.”

“So you don’t like me…at all?” She pressed herself closer against him. His sweatpants did nothing to hide the fact that he at least liked her some.

“I didn’t say that.” His hands fell to her waist, his touch burning hot even through her clothes.

“Should I get on my knees and beg for your forgiveness?” she asked in a low voice. Just imagining it turned her on so much her breath stuttered. Bruce’s fingers flexed against her and she felt the words go straight through him as his cock twitched against her stomach. “Or maybe you should get on your knees,” she murmured as her hand tangled in his hair. His eyes fluttered closed for a second.

“Which one will make you shut up faster?” he asked after a second. His blue eyes flashed as they opened again.

She laughed and leaned up to whisper in his ear. “Sounds like you want my mouth full.”

Bruce stopped breathing for a split second. Then his lips were crashing against hers. Her back smacked against the nearest table. He was everywhere. The warmth of his body surrounded her and she again had a moment of thinking he was larger than he was. His hands strayed up her shirt, the calluses on his bare palms dragging a shiver from her as they scraped across her skin.

This time he bit her lower lip and the mixture of pleasure and pain had a soft noise escaping from her before she could stop it.

“You’re so infuriating,” he said against her lips. “You drive me crazy.”

“Right back at you,” she said and kissed him again.

“I mean it,” he said as his nose traced her jaw. He pressed a kiss against her pulse. She was certain he could feel the way it suddenly jumped. “I have never been so aggravated by a person before.” He kissed down her neck and sighed into her skin. “And I’ve never wanted someone so much.”

“Then do something about it,” she said with a challenge in her voice. It didn’t come out as strong as she’d hoped though, because his lips were distracting her, and one of his thumbs had chosen that moment to brush the underside of her breast through her bra.

In one swift movement he had rid her of her shirt. His eyes were hungry as they took her in. “You’re beautiful,” he said.

“Finally, a compliment,” she said but the words choked off as his lips touched the top of one breast and then the other.

“One of us has to be nice,” he said, and the way his breath brushed against her skin made her shiver. He glanced up at her through his dark, dark lashes.

“I can be nice,” she said defensively. What she really wanted to do was demand that he touch her already, but that would defeat the purpose of her comment about being nice.

Bruce quirked an eyebrow at her. “Oh?”

She pulled him back to his full height and settled on her knees before him. And bless him, he had some sort of cushioned mats underneath the tables so she wasn’t on hard concrete. Her hands settled on the backs of his thighs as she leaned back enough to stare up at him.

“I can be very nice,” she said as she tugged his sweatpants down.

His breath and hers both caught when his cock sprang free. Her mouth practically watered at the sight. His hand caressed the back of her head encouragingly but he made no move to force her forward. He simply watched, and waited.

She licked the underside of him slowly. Her reward was a choked noise. His hand tightened spasmodically on her head but again, he didn’t force her forward.

She licked him again, experimental this time, letting her mouth very slowly explore him, moistening him so when she decided to, her lips would slide right over him.

She took the head of him in her mouth first and swirled her tongue. This time he moaned out her name. The sound of it made her squeeze her thighs together. Her want was a living, breathing thing within her. She didn’t want to tease anymore. She took him into her mouth fully, swallowing him as deep as she could.

The sound Bruce made was desperate. It echoed around them and only served to make her hungry for more. She was doing that to him. She was making him feel that good.

Her head bobbed, his hand a gentle guide on the back of it, the noises he was making becoming more frequent the more she moved. His body trembled. She wasn’t entirely sure he was breathing, either.

All of a sudden her mouth was empty as he jerked away from her. It was instinct to follow but he tugged gently on her hair to stop her.

“My turn to be nice,” he said, voice deeper than she’d ever heard it. He guided her upwards and kissed her so hard it left her breathless. He palmed one of her breasts with one hand and her ass with the other. Then her bra was falling off and to the floor.

“You?” she said on half a gasp. “Nice?”

He grinned at her. “I can be very nice.”

He unzipped her skirt. It puddled around her ankles. She kicked off her shoes and the skirt in anticipation.

“Yeah?” she said as both of his hands gripped her ass and pulled her closer. She wiggled against him, his cock against her bare stomach about to drive her wild with need and they hadn’t even done anything yet. “Prove it.”

One of his hands was between her legs before she finished speaking. He brushed a thumb against her clit through her underwear, making her squirm. He leaned down to kiss the pulse point in her neck again.

She made a noise of complaint when he stopped touching her but all he did was lift her so she was situated on the table.

“Spread your legs,” he said and her body instinctually obeyed without her permission. He pulled down her underwear. His eyes were hungry as he lowered himself to her knees. He was devouring her with his gaze. His lips parted as his tongue darted out. She knew that tongue was about to be on her and the anticipation was killing her.

“This is the part where you beg for forgiveness,” she said in a breathy voice. All of her bravado went out the window as he smirked at her and traced a finger through the wetness between her legs.

He moved teasingly slow as he continued to trace her, staying just outside where she wanted him, every other pass stopping to circle her clit. He kissed the inside of one thigh and then the other. Then he paused, staring up at her with eyes like blue flames, and lifted one of her legs to rest on his shoulder. The new position made her lean back against her hands.

She moaned at the first touch of his lips. His tongue gently traced her clit and she squirmed all over again.

“Bruce,” she said like a plea.

He listened to her unspoken demand and inserted a single finger into her so slowly she wanted to scream. His tongue worked her clit as his finger moved in and out of her. The sensation started to build and build and build. She reached out for an anchor with one hand, something, anything to keep her grounded. Her fingers threaded into Bruce’s hair. He hummed against her, eliciting a moan from her as the vibrations moved through her body.

“Fuck,” she said because there was no other word for it.

He pushed a second finger inside her. His movements started to quicken.

Her orgasm built within her as he moved faster and faster. The sensation of his tongue on her clit coupled with two of his fingers inside her was almost too much. She couldn’t catch her breath.

Bruce slid a third finger inside her and every muscle in her body clenched around him.

She shuddered as the orgasm washed over her, pleasure rolling on waves throughout her body.

When she opened her eyes, he was staring at her. Somehow, that was hotter than anything he’d done up until that point. The look in his eyes, feral and hungry, made her feel more naked than her actual nakedness.

“How do you want me?” she asked, voice thick in the wake of her orgasm. Her body shuddered with an aftershock and Bruce’s piercing blue eyes didn’t miss any of it. He stood slowly, the bulk of him seeming to unfold little by little as he towered over her. He pulled his shirt off with one hand and somehow kept eye contact the whole time.

He stepped between her legs and she shivered again. The air was cold but the warmth pouring from Bruce’s magnificent body was enough to keep her from feeling it.

“How do you like it?”

God, his fucking voice. Deep and sexy and with a hint of a growl that turned her on.

How did she like it? Was he serious? She just wanted him inside her, she didn’t care where or how.

“Just fuck me,” she said when she could find her voice.

“You’re so bossy,” he said with half a smile as he bent to kiss her.

She clutched his shoulders. “I mean it, Bruce,” she said with as much bravado as she could muster. “Fuck me. I have an IUD so we have nothing to worry about.”

“Are you sure?” he asked after a second. He studied her face calmly as if she weren’t half-mad with lust. As if his cock wasn’t dripping for her, angled perfectly to go inside her.

“I don’t know how I could make my consent any clearer.” She rolled her eyes. Then she realized that maybe Bruce wasn’t sure. “Are you sure?”

“Yes,” he said against her lips, and then pushed into her so suddenly she cried out.

She said every cuss word she knew which only served to make him laugh. The vibrations traveled between their connected bodies in a delicious way. He stayed still for a moment, letting her adjust to him, his lips moving up her neck and to her breasts and to her lips.

“Fuck,” Bruce said as he began to move. She agreed with the sentiment. With her leaning back on the table, him between her legs, the angle was just right to immediately send shivers up and down her spine. Every thrust made her muscles clench.

The feel of his cock within her was almost transcendent. She grabbed him tightly, pressing their bodies together, keeping him close to her as he thrust in and out.

He slid a hand between them to circle her clit and she cried out as she came almost immediately. When she opened her eyes she expected to see that she had burst into flames. Bruce was staring at her again, his expression tight.

“You’re beautiful when you come,” he said and the words almost made her do so again.

“I bet you are too,” she said with a grin. She wrapped her legs around him so that their bodies were flush. The new angle made them both gasp. His big hands splayed across her back and her own hands tangled in his hair. He seemed to like it when she pulled, so pull she did.

“Y/n…” he said into the crook of her neck. His thrusts picked up speed. She saw stars as his cock hit her just right, over and over and over. The grip she had on his hair was a lifeline now, the only thing grounding her and keeping her from exploding into a million tiny pieces.

“Come inside me, Bruce,” she said. It wasn’t at all bossy like she’d intended it, but he groaned anyways.

He rocked into her, harder and deeper than before, the sweat on their skin making their chests slide together. His fingers deftly swept over her clit again. Her cry echoed, almost a scream, as she came for the third time.

Bruce wasn’t far behind. His thrusts stuttered, rhythm uneven, as his hips jerked into her. She could feel it spill out of her even as he continued to move.

“Fuck,” he said as his hips slowly jerked to a stop. They were both panting.

“Fuck,” she agreed. She was still clinging to him. They stayed tangled together for a minute more. Her body shivered with aftershocks every few seconds. Her mind was blissfully blank. Her limbs were warm, her body languid. She felt completely wrung out in the best way possible.

Bruce kissed her jaw. His hands rubbed idle circles against her bare back. It was…sweet. She liked it. Usually the men she fucked pulled out and yanked their clothes back on in the same movement.

“I had no idea Bruce Wayne was such a…generous lover,” she said, breath still heaving.

“Now you know all of my secrets.” He toyed with her hair, his face softer than she’d ever seen it. She let her legs fall from around his waist. He stepped back, sliding out of her, and passed her a small towel from God only knew where. “It’s clean, I promise.”

“I highly doubt I know all your secrets.” Their eyes met and they shared a smile. She cleaned herself up to the best of her ability. “I’d like to, though.”

“Oh?” he said, and there was a vulnerability in his expression that wasn’t there before.

“Feel free to say no, but I’d like to take you on a date.” She nudged him gently. She pulled her bra and underwear back on.

“I’d like that. But I should pay.” He pulled up his sweatpants but left his shirt off. She couldn’t say she minded the view.

“Oh, I only meant I was driving. You’re definitely paying.”

He laughed, long and loud, and the sound stirred something in her gut.

“Who knew that all you needed was to get laid to loosen up?” she teased as she gave him another playful nudge.

“I doubt this is what Alfred had in mind when he said I needed someone to pick a fight with,” Bruce said with another slight laugh. “But it worked, didn’t it?”

Y/n glanced around, suddenly panicked. “There aren’t security cameras in here, are there?”

Something glinted in his eyes. A playfulness, almost. “No, there aren’t.”

She squinted at him, suspicious. “If you tell me know and I find out you’re beating off to the tape every night–”

He laughed again, this one a short, surprised burst of sound. He raised his hands as if in surrender. “I promise there’s not.”

She finished straightening her hair with a soft hmph. “Fine, fine. Date’s still on then, I guess.”

Bruce leaned in and brushed a kiss to her temple. It was as if he couldn’t help it. As if the sex had softened all of his rough edges. Maybe it had softened her, too, because she couldn’t drum up an ounce of annoyance at him if she tried. In fact, she leaned into the touch.

“Seriously,” she teased as she bent to pull her shoes back on. “It’s like you’re a different person.”

“What can I say?” he said. He spread his hands. “You’re not all bad.”

“Does this mean you’ll accept all my terms with the merger?”

There was a long, long pause. “Absolutely not.”

She snorted, and they fell into what was becoming their new routine of bickering as they went upstairs to get lunch.

#battinson x reader #batman x reader #bruce wayne x reader #the batman fic #battinson fic #bruce wayne fic #the batman 2022 #the batman #battinson #bruce wayne

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imauthicktic · 1 year ago

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Kyoutani Kentarou x flirty!crush!gn!reader

Description: flirty reader always spends time with their crush, however, their crush is super clumsy and happens to take the guys down with them

A/N: honestly just so fluffy and cheesy I LOVE and I also plan on doing this for other characters but I had this one done and just haven't posted it yet. I just wanted to give yall some other ✨content✨ while I work on the other requests 😊

You and Kyoutani were heading to the cafeteria for lunch. As usual, Kyoutani was holding your bag and his hand was on your lower back as he directed you through the traffic of students as you rambled on about a show that you’ve been watching lately. He doesn’t respond much other than a small grunt to let you know he’s listening and an occasional question when the characters or storyline gets a little confusing. He took you to the food line and grabbed the food for both of you. “Wowww Kyo! You know what food I like? You really pay attention to me, huh?” You wiggle your eyebrows and bump his hip with yours lightly. Kyoutani turns his head with a slight blush and pays for both of your meals. “Hey! Wait! I was supposed to pay today,” you whined and gave a small pout at him. “Just buy snacks later and we’re even,” he said gruffly. You give him a bright smile as you grab your guys’ food and walk over to the table you two usually sit at.

Kyoutani sits across from you as you two eat. He likes watching your facial expressions when you talk so he thinks he has the best seat in the place. He was getting distracted by how cute you are when you’re talking and wasn’t paying attention to the conversation at all. That is until you slip off your shoe and dig your toes under his pant leg to grab his attention. He jumped a bit in his seat at the feeling of your tiny foot caressing his shin. “How the hell is your foot so cold even if you’re wearing socks?” He grumbles out. “Sweet boy, you stopped paying attention to me,” you giggle at his embarrassed expression, “I asked if you wanted to try a bite of my food? I see you got something new today and I wanted to try it.” He looked at your food, then your drink, leaned forward to let you take a bite of his meal and nodded his head towards your drink. “I’d actually like to try the drink you brought today. Ya know, in exchange for that bite,” he gave a small smile to you as you grabbed your drink to hand it to him. “Let me know if you like it,” you smile sweetly as he takes a sip. “I can bring you some if you’d like my love,” he nearly spit out his drink at the nickname.

He should be used to it at this point. You’ve always been sweet to him with these nicknames. He honestly adores it, but you don’t need to know that yet. You usually give all your friends nicknames. Even some of his teammates who you’ve known far longer than you’ve known him. You were their friend since elementary school, so you were around all the time and didn’t like how everyone thought Kyoutani was some terrible person. You made it your job to get to know him and he can easily say you’re the closest person to him. The one who genuinely cares about him and his well-being. But my love is something he’s never heard you use so genuinely. It gave him butterflies and he just wants to do everything he can for you to call him that genuinely for forever.

Soon, lunch was finished and you were getting up to throw both of your trash away. Kyoutani was not far behind as he matched pace with you heading to your next class. However, you were distracted talking about a project you have in another class that you were unaware of the ‘wet floor’ sign. It almost happened in slow motion. Your shoes lost their grip on the freshly cleaned floor and you let out a squeak as you grab onto the closest thing to you… which just so happened to be Kyoutani who ungracefully fell on top of you on the ground. He effectively pinned you down to the ground. “Ow, ow, ow,” you mutter out as you rub your head softly. “God, you’re always a damn klutz,” Kyoutani muttered with amusement in his tone as he has a small smirk and blush on his face. You let out a small bashful giggle, “Kyo, while you make a great weighted blanket, and I’ll probably ask for you to be one in the very near future, we should get off the floor in the middle of the cafeteria,” you say with a smile.

Kyoutani rolled his eyes as he stood up and grabbed your arms to help you up from the ground. After getting back up on your feet, you fix your uniform while Kyoutani flicks your forehead. “Wha-! What was that for?” you whine softly. “That’s for pulling me into your fall, idiot,” he chuckles softly before he wraps an arm around your waist, “You okay though? You didn’t hit your head too hard did you?” he asked. You smile softly at his concern, “I’m ok, Kyo~ Not the first time I would’ve fallen for you,” you giggle as you lean in and kiss his cheek softly. Kyoutani’s face turned bright red. “So… date after practice? You can come over and be my weighted blanket while I make you watch that show I was talking about and some takeout?” you suggest cutely. Kyoutani let out a soft sigh and nodded his head before looking off to the side. “I guess that doesn’t sound too bad,” he mumbles out before looking into your eyes again, “it's a… it's a date,” Kyoutani says before kissing your temple softly as his hand around your waist goes to hold your hand. He tugs your hand lightly, “C’mon. Sooner we get this next class over with, the sooner we have our date,” he says in a surprisingly soft voice. You smile brightly as you squeeze his hand softly, “Can’t wait,” you say sweetly.

Lmk what you guys think!! Requests are still open for the event!!!

#haikyuu x reader #haikyuu #kyoutani kentarou #kyoutani x reader #hq kyoutani #kyoutani kentarou x reader

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saber-monet · 11 months ago

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“They’re talking shit” manifesting technique

“Let them talk shit” Method

So this is the technique that I used, and still currently use as an over-thinker to manifest my desired reality and maintain my desired mental state.

So back in college, I was insecure. The type of insecure, where if I hung out with friends and then I left the room, only thing that would be racing through my mind would be the idea of them talking about me behind my back. Like Just talking the most shit and calling me out of my name. Granted these are the types of friends I had back then, I now know better.

So here was the pattern :

Every time I left the room, and I felt insecure about something I had just said or done, I would imagine them saying bad things about me or finding me weird of off putting. The things I would imagine them saying, would break my heart. So I put a stop to it.

And I recognized those people were not in the room with me and I was using my imagination to hurt myself .

I could have been imagining them saying anything because I have that power and I’m choosing to see them saying most terrible things about me. So, I made the decision to imagine them still talking shit, but this time it was about all the good things I wanted.

( you have to keep the same hater energy when you do this btw)

Example:

“Who does she think she is? Just because she has a great body and works out and is always in a happy state of being. She think she’s better than us. 😒. she think she’s rich too. She only has about $100,000 in her bank account. The rest is tied up in the stock market and crypto currency. So she technically doesn’t even have that much money. 🙄”

“ she wants to be an influencer sooo bad .ugh, So what if your YouTube channel grew by 200,000 subs in less than 3 weeks and you’re getting amazing sponsorship oppertunities. So what bitch you ain’t pewdie pie. You don’t even have 1,000,000 subs yet . Pipe down”

So in those examples, I just affirmed a reality where:

- I great healthy body

- im in a happy/content state of being

- $100,000 in in my bank account

-I have plentiful bountiful investments/crypto currency

-my YouTube channel successful

-I’m getting great sponsorship opportunities

And because I used other people to affirm those for me, it’s a stronger self concept/reality. Because I’m affirming it in, first person, third person and second person( by default).

This technique works with any “negative” dominating emotion.

So if you were anxious or have anxious dominant feelings. Start affirming, anxious thoughts that you would WANT to have.

For example:

“I hope my professor doesn’t hate me for being more educated/smarter on the subject than he is 😭. Like I get he spent years in school studying this stuff, but it comes easy to me and surpass his expertise every time without fail. I hope he doesn’t think I’m trying to show him up😰”

“ I hope the bank doesn’t get suspicious about how much money I’ve been depositing into my account. 😥Plus I’ve been getting so much money this year from random sources, in such large amounts, I’m kind of worried that the IRS is going to get involved and make filing my taxes a little complicated this year.☹️”

So, in those two short sentences, you just affirm that

you’re smart,

you’re doing well in the class, and

you’ve been getting large amounts of money throughout the year, from expected and unexpected sources.

Remember if you want it, you can get it. Try “under-thinking” , it’s easier than you’d expect. No matter what state you are in. If you were able to tell a consistent story about how you want to be, you’re good.

* when I use the word “negative”, I’m talking about the words you are using to describe the situation. Because by default every situation is neutral. It doesn’t become positive or negative until you choose to assign it a value .

Don’t force yourself to be happy, force your thoughts to tell a better story. One that wouldn’t mind living out and experience. And the only except thoughts that affirmed the reality that you want. From any angle. You have to learn when and how to work with your emotions. Emotions are only bad if you identify them as bad.

When you come up with any other examples, please, I would love to hear them. share them with me.

#self concept #scripting #manifesting #affirmations #mindset #law of assumption #soft black girls #neville goddard #reality scripting #reality tinkering #your desired reality is in evitable #edward art #mental health #you are not your thoughts #thought control #saber monet #if you want other examples leave a ❤️ in the comments

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hassedah · 6 months ago

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Beliath meets MC's family:

Hi! How are you? I hope you are well! ^^

Here's Beliath's part for the headcanon: the boys meet MC's family.

I hope you enjoy it, the next one should normally be on Ivan. ^^

Have a good day and take care of yourself! ^^

-----

He couldn't be less stressed. Seriously, nothing could be worse than your encounter with his mother, who tried to kill you both, as well as his sister and everyone in the manor. That meet with your parents? That's nothing, after all, they're certainly not going to try and kill you both in a demonic ritual to gain power. So, Beliath simply observes the landscape through the car window while you're driving, he's in a great mood and chats to you about anything he can think of. Ethan has ordered you not to give him the wheel under any circumstances, and from the look on the doctor's face, it didn't occur to you to disobey him. But the closer you get, the more questions Beliath asks.

"Where were you going for fun? It looks like a small town. -There's a park in the centre of town where we used to meet up for a chat after classes. -I see. There wasn't much to do… -There's a shopping centre nearby and a café. -Sounds boring… Isn't there a nightclub? -I didn't go to nightclubs when I was underage and no, there aren't any… the only nightclub is the Moondance. -Pff, I think I'd die of boredom… Well, it's nothing against you or your town, it's just that there's not enough activity for me… -We used to get together a lot at the clothes shop too and at the beach in the summer. -That's not going to convince me that it wasn't supposed to be boring," replies your vampire with a pout. What are we going to eat? -I don't know. -Do your parents know how to cook? -Yes, they can. They can cook. -Good, or can they just cook pasta? -They can cook better than Vladimir and Ethan, if that's what you're worried about. -It's no great feat, even with one hand tied behind my back and a blindfold on, I could cook better than them. -I know, I know, Beliath," you smile, patting his thigh, "you're an excellent cook, no one can do as well as you. Are you happy or do you want more compliments? -Keep saying what an exceptional person I am, your compliments warm my heart."

You laugh softly before starting to list all the compliments you can think of, which seems to be enough for Beliath, who grabs your hand to kiss it.

"You mustn't get home too late, my skin looks terrible if I don't get my ten hours' sleep. -Your skin is always beautiful, my darling. And in the worst case, we'll be sleeping at my parents' house. -Could I see your room at your parents'? -I'll see… if you're nice during dinner. -Hey! I'm always nice! You've never met a nicer vampire than me! I'm the best! -Okay, if you want," you answer, laughing. You're the best, but I won't show you my teenage bedroom unless you're nice. -I'm sure there are star posters all over the walls, just like in the films, and maybe some stuffed animals too, and a chair that used to be your wardrobe. -You're well-informed, aren't you…" you say, giving him a quick glance. -It's because of all the teen series I've watched. -I'm sorry to tell you that teenagers in TV series generally have a much more eventful life than ours… -Rah, boring! You're not sneaking out? Parties till the sun comes up? Chaotic proms with whirlwind romances? Urbex? I've heard it's all the rage at the moment, with lots of young people doing it at Moondance! -Well, you can do those things, but they rarely end up with vampires, dead people or werewolves hiding in the dark corners… "

There was a short silence before you felt Beliath lean towards you, a brief glance towards him and his mischievous smile made you sigh.

"It wasn't because of Urbex outing that you fell into the mansion? -What do you want, Beliath, my life is worthy of a teen series," you joke. -It's a bit like that series," continues your partner, "you know with the girl at highschool who falls in love with a vampire who has a brother… what's that series called again? -That's far too vague a description for me to give you an answer, Beliath. -Yes, they go to school and fight other vampires. -That's what I'm saying, it's just too vague for me. -Maybe… I'll ask Ivan when we get home. I'm sure he knows. -Try to find out more information about it, even Ivan won't be able to answer you otherwise. -She's got one friend who's a witch, and the other's a blonde. Rah, I can't remember. The mayor, his son was a werewolf and there were deaths all the time."

You smiled as Beliath continued to give you information about his series, each one as vague as the next. This kept him busy for the rest of the journey, because even when he'd parked outside your parents' house he still couldn't remember the name of the series, but he'd told you about at least the first two seasons.

"It's all right, Beliath, we'll ask Ivan when we get back. We've only just arrived."

Your vampire leaned back in his seat to observe the house before exclaiming.

"MC! There are garden gnomes! It's a real series house! -Well, not everyone considers garden gnomes a threat to their flowers."

The jab at Vladimir, who wasn't there to defend himself, made your partner laugh. You parked just outside the house before getting out of the car. Once he was beside you, he slipped his hand around your waist before kissing your temple, then your cheek, then the corner of your lips. You laughed before gently pushing him away.

"Beliath, concentrate a little, my darling. -I won't be able to kiss you as much once we're at the table, let me refuel first, I'll be very nice afterwards I promise!"

You rolled your eyes in amusement at his pleas before taking his face in your hands to kiss him back. Even if Beliath didn't tell you, you could see that he was much more clingy and tactile with you since his mother attacked you.

"Happy?" you asked after you'd moved away. -Mh… can I have one more to be sure?" asked Beliath with a smile. I haven't had time to think about it too much… "

You gave in to kiss him again and felt his arms close around your waist to pull you closer.

"MC, bunny, you're not going off to war, there's no need to kiss each other like that."

You sighed as you waited for the voice of one of your parents before letting your head fall back against your partner's neck, just above you you could hear Beliath laughing softly.

Your parents were waiting for you on the doorstep, and on seeing them Beliath immediately began his charm routine, which couldn't have worked any better. He was charming, the ideal son-in-law, polite, funny, helpful, and above all, his loving gaze and gestures of affection never ceased towards you.

"You make a lovely little couple," exclaimed one of your parents. It reminds me of my youth and our first family meal. Do you remember that too? -Oh yes, a nightmare," your parent winced at the memory, "I ran over your grandmother's rosebushes when I parked. She sulked for the rest of the evening and chased me away before dessert. -That's not going to happen to me, I'm not allowed to touch the car," joked Beliath. -Aren't you driving? -Ethan lent us his car to come here," you explained, "and I've been instructed not to let that dear boy touch it. -I drove his car into the ditch once, and he's never forgiven me. -Oh! You weren't hurt?! -No, the car, on the other hand," joked your vampire before laughing."

You continued chatting in the entrance hall. Then your parents invited you into the living room, where you settled down for an aperitif. Beliath was next to you on the sofa, while your parents sat in the armchairs. Throughout the aperitif, your vampire led the discussion with ease, seeming totally in his element and occasionally stopping briefly to kiss your hand or cheek before answering a new question from your parents, who were totally under your boyfriend's spell.

"What about your parents? What do they do for a living? -My father died before I was born and my mother, well…"

Beliath smiled mischievously and, sensing the nonsense coming, you cut your partner off before he could start talking nonsense.

"She's dead too. -Oh," exclaimed your parent, "that can't be easy, you've been alone for a long time? -Only a few months, Beliath laughed and you frowned, hoping to persuade him to keep quiet."

At least her laughter could always pass for stress or embarrassment, which it really could be, you know that your partner often sweeps problems under the carpet by joking about them.

"And you have no other family," worries one of your parents. -I have an older sister. We get on very well. -It can't be easy every day. You're young. -Oh, it doesn't matter. I've got MC so it's all good."

You were saved from further questioning by the ringing of the oven bell as your parents got up to prepare the main course in the kitchen and put the aperitif away. You took advantage of this moment to turn back to Beliath.

"Don't tell me you were going to talk about the fight between us and your mother? -It was a joke to see how he would react. -A human probably wouldn't find it very funny. I think my parents would freak out if you told them your own mother tried to kill you in a demonic ritual."

Beliath shrugged with an amused look before leaning in to kiss your cheek.

"Don't tell them that, all right. -Right… sorry, darling, I didn't mean to upset you," replied Beliath with a smile that he wanted to be contrite but was far too amused. -I'm not upset. I was just afraid of what you were going to say. -I won't say it… even if it's the truth. -A truth my parents aren't ready to hear. -And yet, you don't think they'd be proud to have a child who dared to fight a powerful succubus to save partner. -I'll fight all the succubi you want, my love, but you must never tell my parents. I don't think they'd be thrilled to hear the news. -Not thrilled? When their child has the courage to slay a demon to save frail partner? smiles Beliath before kissing you. -My frail partner, who also happens to be half-demon and half-vampire. -And who raves every day about the power and courage of the person he loves. -You don't have to charm me, my darling, I've been charmed for a long time. -I have to tell you how exceptional you are! I could compliment you for hours and never get tired of it."

You smiled in amusement at your vampire, before kissing him, Beliath responded to your kiss with passion before being interrupted by a call from one of your parents in the dining room. You got up to join them and the discussion continued in a pleasant manner as the dishes were served. Beliath was tasting every dish and singing the praises of your parents' cooking. You could tell by the look on their faces that they were flattered, and also that your parents had outdone themselves in the kitchen in terms of the quantity and quality of the food.

"Do you cook?" one of your parents finally asked. -Yes, I do. I do most of the cooking with Raphaël. -Béliath is very talented in the kitchen and it's always a pleasure to eat what he's prepared for us," you added. -Don't the others cook?"

You exchanged a glance with Beliath before sighing at the same time.

"He could probably cook, but that would be risking setting fire to the manor," you reply. -Aaron and Ivan still manage well. -Yes, they can make pasta, that's something… but Vladimir and Ethan. -Well, I don't mind cooking with Vladimir, but I don't want Ethan in my kitchen. I like him a lot, but I sincerely think he confuses cooking with scientific experimentation… sighed Beliath. -It can't be as bad as all that, try one of your parents. -Vladimir nearly blew up the microwave… three times."

Your parents were silent for a moment before looking at each other and back at you, obviously expecting a joke, but you said nothing more and after a moment one of your parents exclaimed.

"And I thought I wasn't very good in the kitchen… -They're making an effort, though," you tried to temper. Vladimir managed to make sandwiches last time."

The discussion turned to the cooking skills of each of your housemates, you didn't hesitate to criticise Vladimir and Ethan's cooking and your parents seemed quite curious. This went on for a long time before the discussion turned to other subjects.

"MC didn't tell us what you do for a living? -What do you mean? -What's your job?" rephrased one of your parents. -I'm a barman," smiled Beliath after giving you a smile, he was proud to have remembered the lie you had planned for this situation. -Barman! -Yes, it's a rather amusing job, I talk to people all night long, they tell me their gossip, I know everything that's going on in the city without even needing to watch the news or open a newspaper, the music's pretty good and on top of that I know how to make excellent cocktails! -Oh, we'll leave that to you next time. I'd love to try a cocktail made by a professional."

The discussion continued for a long time as your parents began to tell you about the parties and outings they used to go to when they were young, you winced at some of the information you would have preferred never to know, but it didn't faze Beliath at all as he also recounted some of the evenings he had spent at the manor, sometimes stopping for a brief moment to stroke your hand or your back, as if not being in contact with you seemed unimaginable to him. Talk of your parties at the manor slowly led to talk of your flat-sharing.

"I understand you live in a shared house," one of your parents asks. Who owns the house? -Vladimir owns it. -That's not a very safe way to live," worried one of your parents. Aren't you afraid you'll have to move from one day to the next? -Not a chance with Vladimir," you immediately reassured your parents. No matter how much he complains about us being there, he can't stand to be alone and he needs us for a lot of things. -I confirm. We only let him go shopping once with Aaron, and he didn't come home all day. We had to go and look for him. He'd got lost in an IKEA and couldn't find the way out."

Your parents remained silent for several seconds looking at you before you sighed.

"The worst thing is, I'm not even surprised. -The worst thing is that he doesn't assume it. He told us he wanted to redecorate and that he hadn't seen the time, while we found him sitting on a sofa like a kitten abandoned in a cardboard box. -Your flat-share looks… rather hectic," said one of your parents after glancing at your other parent. You must not be bored. -Everything's fine most of the time," reassured Beliath with a smile, "it's just that we're rather… -Original? you offered. -Exactly."

Your parents looked a little worried but Beliath resumed the discussion as if nothing had happened and after a few minutes they seemed to have completely forgotten their worries. They finally got up to fetch the desserts from the kitchen, and your vampire took advantage of the moment to turn towards you, dropping his head on your shoulder and mumbling.

"Oh MC, I'm exhausted. It's been years since I seriously socialized with humans without using my vampire powers. Tell me it's almost over? -There's still dessert and coffee, darling. -I can't… well… maybe if you kiss me… -Béliath -A little one? I feel faint."

You sighed, as amused by his behaviour as by his complaints, and then kissed him. You felt your partner smile under the kiss and you parted just before your parents returned to serve dessert. The discussion then resumed about the flat-sharing.

"But now that I think about it, it must be tiring being a barman, isn't there too much noise for you during the day? It can't be easy to rest after a night's work. -Vladimir and Raphaël are very sensitive to noise so we're careful, you explain, and Béliath is a very heavy sleeper. He wouldn't wake up even if the roof fell in on his head. -It's because I'm helping Aaron to look after everyone. Once I've decided to sleep, there's nothing to wake me up for. -It must be nice to be able to sleep like this," says one of your parents. Me, the slightest noise wakes me up. -Pleasant, it depends for whom," you reply. It's rather difficult to wake him up. I have to shake him. -All you have to do is try to make like Sleeping Beauty, maybe I'll wake up with a loving kiss. -I can imagine, Sleeping Beauty is fine with me as long as I'm not forced to fight a dragon with my bare hands. -And a werewolf?"

Your parents looked at you strangely as you burst out laughing, then you shook your head.

"Leave poor Aaron out of it, darling. The others give him enough of a hard time as it is."

The discussion returned to poor Aaron and his workload, about which your parents were a little worried. At one point, without you knowing when, Beliath moved his chair closer to yours so that you were shoulder to shoulder. Sometimes he would lean over and kiss your cheek or whisper something in your ear. Finally, you accompanied one of your parents to the kitchen while Béliath was monopolised by the discussion with the other. Kidnapping would be a more accurate word, given that he couldn't leave the discussion to come and help you.

"He looks charming," smiled your parent as you were left alone. I've rarely seen such a smiling young man. -Beliath is a very sunny person," you replied. He's almost never in a bad mood and he knows how to put a smile on other people's faces. -I'm glad to hear that. I was a bit scared at first when you told us you'd found love. We imagined the worst, and what an idea it was to go out doing urbex, you could have hurt yourself or even worse.

You heard Beliath stifle a laugh in the dining room and sighed.

"I'm fine. I've already told you. I met Beliath in this manor and we both fell under each other's spell. Nothing more serious happened. -All the same. I don't mind. You look healthy, but we didn't hear from you for several months, we were worried sick. -I know, I'm sorry, but you see everything's fine now. -You can't imagine how worried we were. I never thought I'd see you again."

You continued to reassure your relative before returning to the dining room. As soon as seated, Beliath kissed your hand again before smiling mischievously, you didn't need to be inside his head to know that he had heard the whole discussion, your gaze didn't convince him to keep quiet and before he could say anything you kissed him, silencing your partner immediately. Meanwhile, the coffees were served and Beliath took his and resumed the conversation.

After the coffee, the discussion went on for a long time, Beliath and you were both getting tired and all you wanted to do was go back to the manor and get some rest. Unfortunately, your parents didn't think so and continued talking without giving you a chance to make them understand that it was time for you to go home.

Finally, after yet another pointless discussion about the weather and the seasons, you managed to tell them that it was time for you to go home and get some rest. Your parents followed you into the hallway, continuing to chat, and finally, after promising them several times that you'd see them again soon, you got in the car to leave.

Once on the road, Beliath let his head rest against the window before sighing.

"I'm not going to Moondance tomorrow. We're taking Ethan's portable DVD player and having a movie and spa night."

You nodded without taking your eyes off the road. You arrived well after midnight and decided to go up to your room after briefly telling Vladimir and Raphaël about your evening. After changing into more comfortable clothes, Beliath dropped onto the bed, and you came over to lean against his shoulder.

"We won't have had time to visit my teenage bedroom," you whispered before kissing him. You're not too disappointed? -We're going back there anyway. -There's no doubt about it, my parents adore you. -Everyone adores me, I'm an exceptional person and I have a partner who's just as exceptional as I am. Am I not the luckiest vampire on the planet? -You're very lucky indeed," you laugh. I must be too, to have you in my life."

#moonlight lovers #moonlight lovers béliath

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call-me-maggie13 · 1 year ago

Text

Mary whacks the back of her head, snapping her head forward and knocking her book awry.

"What the hell?" Beatrice rubs the spot Mary hit, flinching when Mary raises her hand to scrape down her face.

"You squint any harder, your face is going to freeze like that." Mary squints her eyes and scrunches her mouth, leaning forward until her nose is nearly touching the book Beatrice is reading. "You need glasses."

"I do not!" Beatrice scoffs, turns to Shannon indignantly. "Do you hear your wife?"

"Yeah," Shannon doesn’t look up from her easel. "She’s right, Speedy. You can’t see. I’ve been telling you that for years. But what do I know? I only taught you how to ride a bike and drive a car and write a check and - "

"Yeah yeah, we get it, you were parentified, moving on." Mary waves her hand dismissively and Shannon pokes her head out from behind the painting to stick her tongue out at her. "Beatrice, you need glasses. You’re fuckin’ blind."

"Why would you think that?"

"The State would like to present exhibit A, if it so pleases the court?" Mary stands, rolls her wrist in a feigned curtsy to Beatrice.

"Oh, you took one class in pre-law and it was on accident, shut the hell up."

"I presume it doesn’t please the court," Mary chuckles, turning back to Shannon bemused. Beatrice throws her book at Mary’s back, she misses and it sails through the air, hurtling in slow motion towards Shannon’s easel.

In this moment, Beatrice realizes three things.

1) She probably should have joined a sports team like Shannon had suggested when she was twelve, Shannon’s always right about things like this. Not only would it have improved her aim, but it also would have given her a chance to outrun Shannon.

2) She needs glasses. Desperately. Mary was less than two meters away from her, there is no reason she should’ve missed that throw.

3) She is about to die. If that book even touches Shannon’s easel, not to mention the canvas Shannon has been diligently working on for the last month, Beatrice will not have enough time to apologize before Martha and Rich are shopping for her coffin.

There are three things everyone knows not to mess with around Shannon: her art, her sister, and her music. At this rate, Taylor Swift bursting through the door to formally apologize for Beatrice’s blunder wouldn’t be able to save her.

And the only person Shannon loves more than Beatrice is Taylor Swift.

Beatrice turns to run but she’s not fast enough, she hears the book make contact and Shannon yelps and screams a slew of curses as Beatrice runs from the room. She doesn’t even stop to apologize, there’s no time, she has to save her breath in case she has to hold it while she hides from Shannon long enough for her to stop being angry.

"BEATRICE NO MIDDLE NAME MASTERS, I SWEAR TO GOD!" Shannon’s voice echoes down the hall Beatrice darts through, opening and closing doors frantically searching for the best hiding place. But this is Shannon’s house, no one knows it better than Shannon.

Except Mary.

Beatrice hides in the utility closet behind the water heater until she hears Shannon storm past her, peeking down the hall before creeping back to the living room in search of Mary.

There’s paint all over their new carpet, the mixing palette overturned on the ground, smearing red and blue and purple into their brand new, white carpet. But the easel is still upright, and the canvas is still in its place.

"Mary," Beatrice whispers, still hunched over and nearly crawling.

"Oh no, kiddo. I’m not getting you out of this one. We haven’t had this carpet one month — one month, Beatrice. Haven’t had it thirty-one days yet, and you’ve already stained it. Stained! You ruined our new carpet and now Shannon will never forgive me for egging you on, you are a terrible sister-in-law." Her tone is light and teasing, but there’s a little rawness in her words that strikes Beatrice between the ribs.

"Don’t talk to her like that," Shannon mutters and Beatrice nearly jumps out of her skin, turning and bracing for her punishment. "She didn’t mean to. That’s what happens when we throw things at each other. We’re adults, we should’ve known the risks. I shouldn’t have been painting on the new carpet anyways."

"Shan, I will pay to have this cleaned, I’m so sorry! What can I do, tell me, what do I need to do?" Beatrice fights the urge to get down on her knees and clasp her hands together and beg for Shannon’s forgiveness.

"You can start by washing this paint out of my hair and end by seeing an eye doctor." Shannon scrubs a particularly difficult stain on her shirt, fingers dyed blue.

"Yeah… maybe I do need glasses… what’re you working on anyways?" She reaches for the canvas only for her wrist to be slapped and pulled away.

"I would show you but it’s not like you could see it anyways." Shannon’s nose twitches when she lies. It has the entire time Beatrice has known her. It’s how Beatrice always wins when they’re playing poker and how she always knew when Shannon was upset with her in the beginning. Shannon hated getting upset with her in the beginning, because Beatrice could shut down for two or three days if she thought Shannon hated her, so Shannon buried a lot until Beatrice started to trust her. To trust herself.

"Is it for my birthday?" Beatrice hates her birthday. Always has, probably always will. Shannon’s nose twitches when she glances at Mary.

"Dude, isn’t your birthday in like three months?" Mary calls everyone dude when she’s lying.

Beatrice’s birthday is in exactly eleven days, sixteen hours and twenty-two minutes. But she’s not counting. Shannon is, but Beatrice isn’t. Because Beatrice hates her birthday.

Always has.

Beatrice doesn’t respond to Mary’s fib, takes the cloth from Shannon’s hand and wipes away a red streak across her cheek.

"Bathroom or kitchen?" Shannon grins and grabs a dining chair, drags it in front of the sink and turns the water on. Beatrice gathers her shampoo and conditioner and a towel from the bathroom while they wait for the water to get warm. Beatrice folds the towel over the edge of the sink and Shannon leans back, hanging her head over the basin. She winks at Beatrice while she wets her hair, smile warm and dopey and so Shannon that it makes her chest ache.

"I love you, ya know?" Beatrice pauses her movement to meet Shannon’s gaze. "You’ve always been my favorite, Speedy. Even when you’re ruining my new carpet or stealing my favorite cardigan or scratching my car. You’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me."

Beatrice doesn’t fight the tears in her eyes, leans down to press a kiss against Shannon’s forehead and lingers in her embrace, in the turpentine and acrylic paint and lemongrass shampoo scent that Shannon has always carried everywhere she goes. If Beatrice could bottle the smell in a jar, she would carry it with her everywhere and take a deep breath of it when she needs to settle her nerves.

Shannon is the best thing that’s ever happened to Beatrice too. But she knows this. She’s known since the night before her thirteenth birthday when Beatrice asked her what she could give her as a gift and Shannon had responded with simply a hug. And when Beatrice had asked why, Shannon had smiled and said that’s what sisters are for, isn’t it?

Something that had been broken in Beatrice for as long as she could remember was repaired that day. Something was fixed and it made her hold her head a little higher and walk a little faster and smile a little brighter. Because she had a sister. She had a sister that wanted her.

She has a sister who loves her more than gifts.

"Where’s this coming from, if you don’t mind my asking?" Beatrice scrubs the shampoo into Shannon’s hair, smiles at the deep sigh she exhales at the action.

"I’ve just been thinking a lot recently. About you, about me, about family and what it means. I know I tell you all the time that I love you, but I feel like sometimes you don’t understand how much I mean it. How much I love you." Shannon allows her eyes to slide closed as she relishes the way Beatrice is massaging her scalp. "You’re a good sister, Bea. You always have been. I took a while to figure it out, but you? You had it right from the start."

"You’re a good sister too, Shannon. In fact, you’re my favorite sister." Shannon rolls her eyes at Beatrice’s remark, but pulls Beatrice’s bubbly hands from her hair to hold them in front of her face.

"You’re easy to love, you know that, right? You’re easy to love and you deserve to be loved and you deserve happiness. You know all of those things are true, don’t you? Because I know I’ve told you them, but I can’t make you believe something, my bumble Bea." Beatrice nods softly, her cheeks wet and eyes burning. "Good, and if you ever start to doubt any of those things, just tell me and I’ll remind you until you can’t help but believe it."

Shannon kisses the inside of her wrist before releasing her hands, just before the line of soap and water. She hums quietly while Beatrice washes the paint from her hair, the water racing away red and blue and green. She scrunches most of the water out of her hair before helping her upright, gently raking the brush through her hair and folding it into a French braid.

If Beatrice had a strand of ribbon to tie around the end of her hair, it would’ve been just like when they were kids.

Shannon kisses her cheek before Beatrice is allowed to depart, three short squeezes on her shoulder before she’s asked to help Mary clean the paint from the carpet.

One, two, three.

I love you.

Find more here!

Beatrice tries on every set of frames in the store. Yet somehow, she hates every pair more than the last. She’s halfway through her second round when Shannon squeezes her shoulders. Beatrice sighs.

"It’s okay, you can always try contacts." Her hand is soft and warm and has green paint dried underneath her nails.

"You know I can’t." Beatrice doesn’t like things in or even near her eyes. The idea of stabbing herself on purpose every day to put in and take out contacts makes her ill. Her single attempt when she was 16 had made her violently ill. For three days. "It’s just - I don’t know. I feel like they’re going to change my life or something."

"Oh my sweet, darling bumble Bea. Glasses won’t change your life. Not as much as me killing you because you take more than three hours to decide on them." She chuckles and scrunches her nose. "Just a smidge."

"Fine. What five were your favorite?" Beatrice rolls her eyes and Shannon grins toothily, patting her shoulder before speeding away and returning with five frames. She holds them out like a mentor would extend a prized sword to their protege.

Beatrice tries each on again, turning and tilting and spinning and following every direction Shannon gives while she inspects each one intently. Finally, she decides on one. A pair of thin round, wire framed glasses. Beatrice settles for them.

The first time she wears them, she decides she hates them again and they go back in their case for a week. It isn’t until Shannon points to the faded blue stain in her living room the next time she visits that Beatrice wears them again.

She hates it. She hates that she can actually see easier. She hates that she can see each individual leaf on the trees and each petal on the flowers and each crack in the sidewalk. She hates it because it means Mary was right and there’s nothing Beatrice hates more than letting Mary be right. She hates it because Mary doesn’t know how to win with grace, she gets pretentious and persnickety and boastful. It’s annoying.

The first time she wears the glasses to Ava’s, Ava and Diana are in the kitchen making eggs. Diana has shells in her hair and Ava is scrubbing yolk off the wall with a cup of water and dishrag.

"What’s it?" Diana reaches for Beatrice’s face when she steps into the room, eggy fingers grabbing for the untainted glass.

"They’re glasses. To help me see."

"You got glasses?" Ava chirps, still cleaning the wall.

"Uh, yeah. Mary’s been telling me I’m blind almost as long as I’ve known her, apparently she was right."

"She can’t be that right, you tell me I’m pretty all the time and that’s true," Ava teases, finally dropping the rag and turning. Her cheeks are flushed and she’s breathless, it makes Beatrice’s chest tight. "Oh."

The cup slips from her hand, sloshing dirty water when it bounces against the linoleum and splashing across Ava’s feet. Her cheeks and ears burn red as she stumbles over an apology, eyes wide with reverence. She doesn’t stoop to collect the cup, frozen as she watches Beatrice watching her.

She swallows, blinks a few times and shakes her head before restarting. "Sorry, you look… wow. Okay, I’m sorry."

Finally Ava tears her eyes away, face and chest burning deep as she clears her throat and mops up the water slowly.

"Mama red," Diana whispers, rocking into her toes and back. She continues, singsonging, "Tomatillo, tomatillo, toma-toma-tillo."

"Diana." Ava’s tone is warning, it makes Beatrice’s chest warm.

Diana giggles, tucking the fingers of one hand into her mouth and reaching for Beatrice with the other. Beatrice picks her up, settles Diana on her hip and narrowly dodges her attempt to steal Beatrice’s glasses.

"Are you alright?" Beatrice’s skin itches when Ava doesn’t look at her.

"Yeah, yeah… I’m…" Ava sucks in a deep breath, holding it in her chest before exhaling slowly with an easy smile. "I’m good, are you hungry?"

"Not particularly."

Ava nods and avoids looking Beatrice in the face, scrambling the eggs in simple silence.

"Are you… are you certain you’re alright?" Beatrice doesn’t like how Ava won’t look at her, even when she settles Diana in a seat with a pile of scrambled eggs in front of her.

"Yeah. Yeah, I’m alright. You’re just…" Ava’s cheeks burn deep red and she stares intensely at her feet, her hair creating a curtain for her to hide behind. Beatrice picks an egg out of Diana’s hair and resists the urge to brush Ava’s hair out of her face, resists the urge to make her continue. Ava takes a quick, deep breathe before exhaling, "You’re making me nervous."

"I apologize," Beatrice takes a large step back, Ava’s fingers wrap around her wrist and pull her back, glancing up at her quickly before dropping her eyes again.

"It’s - it’s not a bad thing. I don’t - I don’t think. It’s - its - good nervous," Ava stumbles, twisting Beatrice’s fingers. "I’m sorry…"

"Is it the glasses?" Beatrice is timid, pushing her glasses up her nose. Ava looks up slowly, eyes wide and cheeks pink when she nods.

"A bit."

Oh. Beatrice blushes and bites the inside of her lip to suppress her smile.

~*~

There is one thing.

Well, two things. Two little things that Beatrice wasn’t expecting to happen when she started wearing her glasses.

Number one is Diana’s freckles. She has so many. She’s more freckle than not. She has a smattering across her face, splattered down her shoulders and back, sprayed over her legs. Nearly every millimeter of her skin is covered in tiny, pale, freckles. It’s adorable.

"Has she always had this many freckles?" Beatrice is connecting a group of them to form a star across Diana’s back.

"Yeah, Bea. Have you always been this blind?" Ava smiles at her, drops her head on Beatrice’s shoulder.

"It would be a fair presumption, yes." Beatrice rests her cheek on the top of her head, lets the warmth of her touch burn into her bones.

"I have to say," Ava lifts her head up, takes Beatrice’s chin between her thumb and forefinger, tilts her head every direction while watching closely. "They do make you look hot."

Oh god. Oh no.

Beatrice’s cheeks burn a deep crimson red, her heartbeat thrashing in her ears and her heart trying to chisel out from beneath her ribcage. It’s unfair. It’s unfair how easy it is for Ava to do this to her. To make her forget how to breathe and become a complete dunce for ninety seconds while her brain reboots.

"I - uh - thank you." Beatrice can’t look at her. She can’t look at her because of the second little thing she hadn’t been expecting.

The second thing is Ava. Not just her compliments. But all of her. Beatrice can see the way her eyes sparkle when she smiles and her freckles dance when she laughs and she bites her lip when Beatrice tells a terrible joke.

Beatrice was already infatuated with Ava before she could see the crinkle in the corners of her eyes when she makes Beatrice laugh, before she could see the way her nose twitches when she sleeps. Before she knew, without a doubt, Ava is the most beautiful person to ever exist.

Diana twists in Beatrice’s lap and holds up the picture she’s coloring, it’s a very obviously giant orange cat. There’s a shaky house-shaped object, a sun in the corner of the page, and flowers that reach above the rooftop.

"Oh wow, Diana! This is amazing!" Beatrice leans closer to inspect it, traces the sun’s smile with the pad of her thumb. "Tell me about it."

"Arson." She growls his name then giggles brightly, swinging the paper through the air. "Like?"

"Like? Diana, I love your picture." Diana grins and presses a wet kiss on Beatrice’s cheek, thrusting the paper into her chest. "Are you giving this to me?"

Diana nods and Beatrice smiles, "Can I put it on my wall?"

Diana dances in front of her all the way to the wall where Beatrice proudly displays all of the art Diana has made her. Diana points to an empty space and Beatrice tacks the image there, stepping back and admiring the collage of scribbles that cover most of the wall.

"Come on, Picasso." She nods back to Ava, face alight with something Ava can’t name but it’s bright and shiny and makes Ava want to pinch her freckled cheeks.

Diana steals Beatrice’s glasses when she climbs back into her lap, attempting to balance them on her tiny nose. Beatrice laughs and helps her hold the frames in place, Diana grins.

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my-castles-crumbling · 2 months ago

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SO cas…

how do u know if someone’s in love with you?

I’m terrible at reading people- always have been. But I think someone I know might be interested in me. I’m really not sure tho.

She’s been in my eng lit class since sixth form begun (i’m in yr13, so it’s been just over a year) and she was sorta my enemy. We would disagree on the books, our opinions of the characters and we’d get into semi arguments over what we thought in the middle of class (which my teachers luckily didn’t mind cause he’s cool). And we were competing for best grades.

We slowly became friends through our weird competitiveness, and after a few months we were something more than enemies. She invited me to her new year’s party (weird to think it’s kinda nearly 2025 now), I went and we hung out there even tho it was a big thing and a bunch of ppl were there, and then after that we were more like frenemies.

She’s kind of popular and i’m not, and my friends have been teasing me since we started hanging out more that i have a crush on her and we’re gonna start dating, you know the gist.

But I don’t even know if shes into girls.

And I don’t know how I feel about her, I haven’t let myself think about that, I was just enjoying being her friend.

Anyway, we got closer over the spring term and then when we had mocks I had a panic attack, and she really helped me.

And then we hung out over the summer a lot.

More than I usually do with one person, I tend to have a limit with people and then I just can’t socialise anymore, but it’s not so much there with her.

Anyway, since we got back to skl she’s been really touchy, I don’t normally like touch but when she’s doing it, it makes me feel a little warm.

And now she’s sat with me in eng lit, she keeps nudging my arm and resting her head on my shoulder, and last week she looked up at me through her eyelashes, blinked and then asked me to please let her doodle on my hand.

I always let her do that, I like the sensation, and I was just joking around saying no, and she knew that, but like, my friend teased me about it and he said that he’d never heard her say please before.

I rolled my eyes but in hindsight I realised that’s sort of true. She’s polite to people, but she sort of has this air of “i’m perfect” around her that means she doesn’t remember to use manners, I don’t think it’s on purpose, she’s unlearning a lot from her parents, but I realised that i’d never noticed this cause she does use manners AROUND ME.

I don’t know what that means.

Also I think my entire eng class ships us now ngl. They literally are so invested. So’s my eng teacher. He’s gay and he keeps laughing behind his hand when the class makes jokes about us (they’re nice jokes dw).

Anyway, that most of it I think.

I can’t tell if she’s just going along with the joke cause she’s popular and she’s often said she combats rumours abt her dating boys by just letting people take abt it and move on… or if maybe she likes me?

I don’t have any real reason to think she actually likes me. Except this one thing.

I broke a bracelet over the summer from my sister that I love… I have a lot of problems with jewellery, I love them but only very specific things. I hate bracelets I can’t take off quickly in case I suddenly get the urge to have nothing touching my skin. And my sister had gotten me this bracelet with tiny beads (I hate bracelets with beads cause they’re big and press into my wrist weirdly) with a material i actually liked and I fell in love with it and wore it everyday.

And it broke.

And I couldn’t get a replacement cause she got it like four years ago and the brand was a little business in a country we went on holiday to back then.

And literally, when i told her it broke, she learnt how to make bracelets, bought these fiddly things that get tiny beads onto string, found and bought the exact string I liked, learnt how to tie it to make those, you pull and it loses, you pull the string to tighten it (like anklets) tie, and took the beads i’d collected from the pavement when it broke and kept in a little bowl sadly, and remade the bracelet.

She remade my bracelet.

I’d tried, to figure out how I was gonna remake it, but I couldn’t figure it out and it was so fiddly and confusing and she just- did it.

I don’t wanna assume she wouldn’t do that for a friend but- surely that’s a little clue right? That maybe she likes me as more than a friend.

Plus she’s not super touchy. Just with me. And she does like to make things for people but not like that, not from scratch.

Anyway i’m gonna stop now just- yeah help meeee?????? thxxxxxxxxxxx 💕

Hi!

I'm going to be so honest and say I'm terrible at this stuff. But it's obvious that she cares very deeply for you.

My question is, is she very touchy when you're alone? Because you said sometimes she plays things up to combat rumors, but what about when nobody is around? And like...how is she touchy? I feel like I'll lean against my friends and stuff, but I don't really hold their hands or stare into their eyes. So yeah, what does she do when you're alone?

Naming you enemies anon

#ask #asks #ask cas #enemies anon

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electricea · 6 months ago

Text

Get to know me better!

Alias / Name: Jassi - some people call me Jas or Jazz, I remember early on a friend just started me calling 'Jassi' as a nickname and it stuck.

Birthday: November 22nd.

Zodiac Sign: My birthday is a weird day for Zodiac signs - some sources will swear I'm a Scorpio, others will say I'm a Sagittarius - I guess personality-wise I'd align closer to Scorpio but it's tough to say.

Height: Haven't been measured since like high school gym class lol but I'd say 5'0.

Hobbies: Writing, reading, role-playing games, puzzles, model kits.

Favourite Colour: I've always liked blue especially light blue - sky blue. I also really like any colour that's like a cyan or turquoise or aquamarine.

Favourite Book: Currently, Blue Lock - I've been obsessed with it since last Christmas and seeing the movie has only kind of intensified that lmao.

Last Song: Stormy by Nissiy x SKY-HI.

Last Movie / Show: I had the dumbass idea last night to start a movie at like 1am so I had to pause it and sleep but I got halfway through The King of Comedy, as for last show I think it would be Delicious in Dungeon since I was streaming it with a friend.

Recent Read: Haven't read anything terribly recently but there's a lot of great manga volumes coming out this month.

Inspiration: I kind of take inspiration from all around me as opposed to one person or a thing - it's hard to explain, but I just feel like my head is always bouncing around with plot ideas or things Ryuji would like. Inspiration has always just come naturally to me.

Story Behind Your URL: When I rebooted my blog a few years ago and decided to come back to Tumblr after a year long hiatus I was agonizing over a new URL - picking a new URL as well as working on a theme are probably two of my least favourite parts of Tumblr and a friend threw out the suggestion - it's a play on the words 'electricity' and was clever, in my opinion, so I give them full credit.

Fun Fact: Uh, I like turtles? (Both the animal and the chocolate - lol sorry I'm really bad of thinking of fun facts on the fly.)

Tagged by: @scarlxtleaves (Thank you - was cool getting to read yours and get to know you a bit as well!)

Tagging: Honestly I'd be happy to get to know any one of you better so feel free to steal this from me and give your answers!

#( ooc. )

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annikin-annotates · 2 years ago

Text

CamGirlAU - A Proposal

Hiya ya’ll sorry this has been a long time coming! I’ve been super sick and really had to put this on the back burner! It’s my first time writing smut all on my own lmao so please be kind to me! and I know I said this would be a CamGirl fic, but I’m thinking of incorporating Sugar baby/daddy dynamics in here also. either way I hope you enjoy it! also I’m giving my girl @whoahoney some love in this fic, pls follow her; she posts amazing Eddie fics and Stranger Things content.

Pairing: Modern!Aemond x Camgirl!Reader, Honey x Modern!Eddie Munson.

Warnings: Smut minors DNI, Sexual innuendos, Use of Wacky Baccy, Swearing.

Word Count: 4.5k

The incessant blaring alarm pulled her from her slumber for the third time this morning, she let out an exasperated sigh as she snatched the phone from the wireless charger on the bedside table. If she didn’t get up now she’d miss the train and it would then be a 40 minute uber and she wasn’t interested in forking out that much money. Throwing back the covers with a grunt, her legs stretching as she stood to stretch, she gave herself a once over in the floor length mirror in the corner of her room. Pulling on stockings and a black and grey skirt, tucking in a thick black sweater, and slipping on her well loved platform Mary Janes. Her laptop already sat in her bag along with its charger and a book to read - she had the forethought to pre pack her bag the night before, which meant she had time to tie the top section of her hair into a little bun. She headed to the bathroom to brush her teeth before grabbing her bag and her over ear headphones from the stand on the edge of her desk. taking the stairs two at as time as she swiped her keys from the bowl on the kitchen bench yelling a quick “See ya!” to her roommate who was simply known as ‘Honey’.

Winter in Kings Landing was certainly setting, the brisk breeze as she stepped out of the run down apartment in Flea Bottom sending a jolt through her body. letting muscle memory take over as she put her headphones on and made her trek to the station. It was bustling as usual, not that she could care, she had places to be - and luckily she made the train in time, no free seats though; standing it would be. Scrolling aimlessly through social media filled the time, sending out a post on her cam socials

‘Going live tonight my sweets, hope to see you all there.

Planetary_M0ans xx’

There’s nothing that will ever top the satisfaction of watching all the likes, comments and Dm’s roll in. This whole thing started after a particularly terrible breakup, he had called her a prude and she too that personally. When she first started it all - it freaked her out; all the attention from men, she was shy and prior to her first stream had never even taken a nude picture of herself. Now she was ‘Out pasting her pussy on the sidewalk’ as Honey would say; with the most love and respect. Honey was one of her only friends who had stuck around after the break up, picked her up out of her pity party and into what she had called her ‘Villain Era’. Said Villain Era consisted mostly of eating terrible microwaved mac and cheese and posting thirst traps online; and getting paid. So it all worked out in her favour she would say.

The train came to a screeching halt as she got off at her stop, it was only a five minute walk from where she was so sh wasn’t going to be terribly late to class. The door of the lecture hall clicked closed behind her as she quickly found a seat in the back of the room and opened her laptop, beginning to take notes. At least it was an interesting class - Homicide; The class always brought something different each week and the lecturer didn’t act like he was being held at gun point to be there. The single buzz of her phone in her hand pulled her from her focus, she unlocked her phone to see a message from one of her regular viewers Sunfyre96;

‘Wear that red set, you look delicious in it. I’ll tip extra’

Her eyebrow raised, she knew the set they were talking about it wasn’t the first time he had suggested it.

‘Of course! anything else, My King?’ she responded, they had requested that they only be referred to as ‘My King’ the first time they spoke; and he tipped big, it worked for her. The speech dots appeared and disappeared several times she knew he was trying to come up with a snarky response but only returned with ‘Good, I’ll transfer before the stream’. She double tapped the message to heart it ‘Thank you, My King’ was all she responded with before locking her phone; focusing on the lecture once more.

Once again she was thrust into the cold as her lecture finished, she made her way down the steps of the lecture hall and across the Quad to one of the several campus coffee shops. She rubbed her hands as she waited in line rehearsing what she wanted to order, she stepped up to the counter the man at the counter flashing her a smile “Hello! What can I get for you today?” he asked cheerily. She smiled back at him “Uh Yeah Hi, can I please get a Hot chocolate on oat milk and a blueberry muffin please?” she asked, digging out her card from her wallet, half watching him punch in the order. Pressing her card to the reader, the little beep letting her know it had processed, she gave him another smile as she stepped off to the side to wait for her drink.

Once she had received the rich sugary drink that fuelled her very body and her muffin she would save for a snack later, she began her walk to the station to head home. Putting on her headphones as soon as she sat on the uncomfortable arcade floor patterned seats and sipping her drink, staring out the window thinking about all the things she had to do be for the stream. She decided to be a courteous roomie and send Honey a text,

‘Hi my love, Just letting you know that I’m doing aa spicy stream tonight. Just wanted to be a good roomie and let you know xx’ She replied almost instantaneously ‘If King Sunfyre needs a second, you know where to find me x’, she stifled a snort as the text came through, She could always count on her friend to be accepting. The ride home felt much quicker than the ride that morning, the luke warm heating of the apartment foyer taking some of the chill off her bones. she gave the lady at the front desk a wave, to which she received a sour look and a raised eyebrow over the rim of her purple glasses frames. She cringed at the look and started up the stairwell to the apartment, her keys jiggled in the door as she struggled with the lock, it tended to get jammed on chillier days. Finally shouldering the door open she was met with the smell of weed and patchouli candles, she couldn’t help but smirk at the fact that her friend probably had a certain curly haired puppy eyed boy over.

She didn’t bother with calling out, not wanting to disturb whatever was going on in her roommates room. A quick tidy up of her room was the first chore off the list, laying out the requested red set and snapping a picture and sending it to the requester;

‘The red set, as requested. My King’. There was no response, only the ping of her bank account getting a deposit; she went to check on the amount, thinking it would only be $20 like it usually was. Her breath hitched in her throat s she saw not just two but three zero’s “What do you mean $200?!” she exclaimed, immediately sending her gifter a thank you note, and an attached special picture. Before almost slamming Honey’s door open “I’m sorry for interrupting whatever-the-fuck is going on in here but Sunfyre96 just paid me $200!”. Both Honey and her friend jumped in fright, the brunet trying to hide the glass bong behind his back, no doubt spilling bong water on the floor. Honey gasped “No fucking way! he did not!”, all she could do was nod frantically and show her the bank account “Sushi is on me fella’s!” she laughed, so giddy that she was shaking. Her friends toasted counter part grinned at her “Hell yeah, dudette. Get on that grind” he high fived her, she returned the favour. “Anyway! that’s the good news, I’ll see you guys at like 8pm!” she smiled, closing the door behind her and heading back to her room.

Making quick work of cleaning her room and setting up her equipment, making sure everything was clean before changing into her set for the night. She pulled on a silky robe for her own modesty turning on her setup, ring lights, soft box and back drop that hides the rest of her room from prying eyes. Logging into her computer and opening spotify and pressing play on her chosen playlist for the night. Before she stepped back into the mirror to look at herself, the chosen set was stunning; a deep blood red boning and lace a nude mesh not leaving much for the imagination between her legs. But the bra of the set was a quarter cup, so her breasts sat almost uncomfortably high, her nipples nearly popping over the edge of the cup - there was sure to be a nip slip tonight. Not one to waste too much time, she logged into he streaming platform and her work socials and keyed in all the appropriate information before sending out that a link would be dropping in fifteen minutes. Though she sent an early access link to a few of her higher tier subs for a private pre-show, which was mostly just chatting to a few lonely men and women, though some she came to genuinely enjoy.

Taking the spare few minutes she had to pop on a pretty red lip, her patrons loved when her pretty little lips got all smudged - Their words, not hers. And a matching red bunny mask, she didn’t need anyone finding out her identity. As promised she spent the first fifteen minutes talking to her higher tier subscribers, laughing at their jokes and making sure they were well taken care of. She sent out the secondary link - already having it queued to go out after the fifteen minutes was up, her chat exploded with messages and suggestions. Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, “Yes, Yes. Hello my loves! How are you all? I appreciate you all coming by tonight! Let’s get started shall we?” She asked.

Luckily she had bought a sit to stand desk making use of the adjustable settings to get that perfect height, she hooked each of her legs over the arm of her chair causing her tummy to scrunch up. Exposing her clothed core to the camera - running a delicate manicured finger down the centre of the mesh slowly, watching some of the messages roll by each one making a little ping. “Take it off?” she asked innocently “I’ll take it off if we can get my tip jar to $300, I’ll be good to you I promise” she continued, rubbing small circles over her clit, her eyes rolling back in pleasure. Unsurprisingly they surpassed the goal set by well over $600, “Aw! Thank you so much my loves” her voice came out sickly sweet. Unhooking her legs from the chair and standing once more “Can we just admire how stunning this set is? Thank you again to Sunfyre96 for their generous donation. I hope I’m doing it justice” she said to the camera, turning around and bending down. Exposing the soft rounds of her ass as she hooked her thumbs on each side of the band and shimmying it down her legs, she was smart enough to wear her thong over her garter so the pretty stockings and garter remained but her pussy was now fully exposed.

She ran a hand over her ass before giving herself a squeeze before sitting once more, hooking her legs over her chair once more. Her heat was now on full display in all its glistening beauty, she ran two fingers along the slit before circling her clit, she leant her head back against the chair, her toes curling in pleasure “Ugh, fuuuck” she moaned. She picked up the pace feeling that familiar bubble in the pit of her stomach form, though her fingers just weren’t cutting it - reaching for the basket beside her chair pulling out her tried and true wand. She was so used to using it that she didn’t even really need to look to see if it was turned on before she held it to her aching button. Switching her wand to her non-dominant hand using her centre two fingers to sink into herself, she couldn’t contain her moans from that point on.

Oh Gods!

Oh Fuck!

I’m gonna cum!

The ever tightening coil in her stomach finally snapped, she rode out that glorious high with her lip between her teeth - though she was sure the apartment three doors down would have heard her by now. When the slight numbness in her body died down, she leant forward to check the chat which was now flooding with comments taking the time to thank each person personally for their donations. “Thank you for coming by my loves! I hope you all had a wonderful time, I will see you later in the week” she said sweetly, blowing a kiss to the camera and ending the stream.

An exasperated sigh escaped her lips as she stood to clean herself up, putting on a fresh pair of leggings and black thigh high socks with an oversized shirt, a half faded band name printed on the front of it and tour dates on the back. Grabbing her phone from her desk and taking it with her to Honey’s room - making sure to knock this time. Honey and her scruffy haired friend were known to have relations from time to time; it was better for her to be safe than sorry. Only entering when she heard Honey tell her to come in, both of them were under the covers, Honey’s hair was disheveled as she laid on her friends chest; she bit back her grin. “Do you guys still want sushi? I’m sure you both have worked up an appetite” she winked, both of them nodded “Just come down stairs and I’ll order it when you guys are ready” she smiled, closing the door behind her and heading down stairs.

She snatched the tv remote from the table changing it to some lofi on YouTube as she sunk into the worn couch with a loud sigh. A soft tail brushed up against her leg, the near silent plop her feline companion made was more than enough to make her heart squeeze. She stroked the soft fur as she posted on her socials;

‘Thank you all again for joining me tonight, As always I appreciate every single one of you!

Planetary_M0ans xx’

The sound of two sets of thumping feet were coming down the stairs, pulling her attention away from her phone and back into reality. Two grinning faces appeared in to the room, eyes hazy and cheeks flushed and sticky; she raised her brows and gave Honey a knowing look as they made their way to the two seater adjacent to hers. The apartment wasn’t in terrible condition, the walls were that weird shade of beige with a satin finish that always made them feel sticky, the flooring was wood up until the kitchen; where ugly apricot tiles started - they were only in the kitchen which was vaguely annoying, why not just keep the hardwood? “-getting?” She caught the tail end of Honey’s question, “Huh?” she questioned shaking off the fog clouding her brain “What are we getting?” Honey asked with a half laugh. Shaking her head once more and opening her phone “Ya’ll still want sushi right? Or we could get burgers?” she asked without looking up. An excited “Oh!” was heard from her companion, looking over the rim of her glasses, her smirk hidden by her phone; Honey snorted at his reaction “Burgers please, oh kind ruler” she laughed, it was one that came from the depths of her throat.

They passed around the phone each of them taking turns in ordering what they wanted from the local burger joint - Joey’s. They all sat and chatted for a while, exchanging giggles and jokes until Honey’s scruffy haired companion - Eddie, broke the giggles “Hey, I uh gave your phone number to my Uncle. You said you were an accountant and I told him you were really good at your job and could help him file his taxes” he said with a sheepish grin. Both her and Honey stared from each other, to Eddie and then back to each other before bursting into a fit of racious laughter. “E-Eddie! That’s not the type of accountant she is!” Honey cackled, slapping him on the arm playfully, “There’s other kind’s of - Oh.” he began before cutting himself off, his face flushing. He looked to the girl opposite him, as she wiped the tears from her eyes with the inside of her shirt “I’m sorry - I” he stammered. She waved him off hardly containing her laughter “It’s no problem at all dude, but I would fuck up your Uncles tax so bad. I’ll send you the details of my actual accountant later though” she chuckled.

Her eyes rolled back in pleasure as she took that first bite of her burger, chasing it with a mouth full of fries “My fucking god! Joey’s never fails us!” she groaned. Her roommate giggled at her “Praise Joey, King of the grill!” she praises in between bites of her own burger, Eddie on the other hand was so consumed in his burger that he said absolutely nothing the entire time, choosing to focus his attention wholly on the food in front of him. “Praise Joey!” she laughed, the three of them had spent many a night drinking and stumbling into Joey’s grill for a late night burger. Sighing in contentment as she popped the last part of her burger in her mouth, slapping both hands on both her legs and getting ups with a sigh “Well! I’m going to shower and go to bed, I’m tired as heck” she said with a yawn.

The steaming water soothed her body and she stepped into the shower and letting her shoulders drop and throwing her head into the water. She spent a while washing and conditioning her hair, and moisturinging after she got out she slipped into her favourite pajama's; yellow and black tartan bottoms and a plain black shirt. The hardwood creaked as she padded across the hall to her room, closing the door behind her as she stepped inside and flicking the light off. She crawled into bed under the cover of darkness and opened her phone once she was situated, there was a notification of a message through Instagram;

Legacy_98 sent you a message request

this’ll be good she thought to herself as she opened her insta and read the message; Hello, I viewed your live stream tonight. I want to know if you would be interested in an arrangement?

Her brows furrowed, she exited out of the message and looked at the profile, no followers, no following and no posts - suspicious. She was very familiar with the type of person she was dealing with here, a total fake - these guys really have to try harder. Switching back over to the message she began to reply; Sure! what did you have in mind? She hit send and exited out of the app, choosing to scroll on TikTok instead.

less than two minutes later came a response; I would like to pay you for private calls and for you to accompany me to events, set your price. I will pay. Her eyebrows rose now she was intrigued, I don’t usually take private clients. She responded. The response bubble popped up You seem to give Sunfyre96 special treatment Was all he responded with, an incredulous laugh escaped her before she replied again. Bold words for someone requesting my services she retorted, her chest puffing at her snarky response I’ll pay you $2,000 a call.

“He’ll pay what?!” Honey exclaimed from the kitchen, watching the breakfast sausages she had sizzling in the pan. “He said he would pay 2k every phone call!” she replied, Honey turned to her friend, the tongs still in her hand “And what did you say?” she pressed. “I said yes - but only if he could provide proof he had the funds!” She said, putting her hands up in mock surrender. Honey’s brows rose higher - if that was even possible, “And how did he do that?” she questioned, turning back to the stove to take the sausages off the heat. “…He paid me 3 grand up front…” she mumbled, Honey’s head whipped around so fast she was sure her friends neck would break “What!” she cried, nearly dropping the plate full of breakfast sausages. She shrugged “I mean yeah, like it’s no biggie if this guy want’s to spend his money on me” she tried to play it cool but her insides were just about vibrating. Honey sighed heavily “If you’re sure about it - just be safe and don’t be stupid about it. Keep your head screwed on; I don’t need another messy girl on my doorstep”. She pressed her hand to her chest in offence “I’ll have you know that this is my apartment!” she laughed “But I will, I promise. that won’t happen to me again” she finished, loading her plate with some eggs, a pancake, some bacon and some breakfast sausage. They both ate together in silence “Where’d Eddie go?” she asked her friend softly, a soft sigh escaped her “Oh - uh, He’s at band practice. They are hoping to be picked up by talent scouts at their next gig” Honey responded, swallowing the hunk of pancake in her mouth.

Nodding to her friend as she thought for a moment, “Why don’t you go and surprise him? take him lunch or something, that’d be cute” she offered, as she stood up and walked to the kitchen to wash her plate. There was a pause, “Hmm, I might. I dunno” Honey replied softly, Her friend rose her eyebrow “What’s the matter?” she asked, taking her friends hand and leading her to the couch. Honey sat with a loud sigh and threw her legs across her friends “I don’t know, I just don’t think we’re going anywhere. Like - I invite him over, we, you know…And then he acts like he’s oblivious to what’s going on” she huffed, crossing her arms over her chest. She sat for a moment to formulate what she needed to say, “Well - If you feel he isn’t giving you the attention your relationship deserves, have a talk to him about it! you never know, he might not know he’s doing it. and if not; There are plenty of hot guys out there! this is Kings Landing!” she smiled, rubbing Honey’s calf soothingly. “You know what? You’re right - life’s too short to do this stupid little dance, I’m going Up-Town right now” Honey said trying to hype herself up.

About twenty minutes later she was left all alone in the apartment, laying on the couch staring at the ceiling - doing nothing. She had tidied the kitchen and done the dishes by the time Honey had left to confess her undying love to Eddie - so she was left with not much to do. Just as she was about to fall sleep; her phone buzzed on her stomach, she picked it up to see a message from Legacy_98;

Are you free to call right now? I would like to talk about our arrangement. She could feel her heart beginning to race as she began to type Uh yeah, sure. Give me two seconds and I’ll call. Quickly jogging up the stairs and into her room, closing the door behind her, perching herself on the side of her bed; pressing the little call icon on the app.

It rang once, twice and picked up on the third ring; “Hello?” a deep, smooth voice asked “Hello, am I talking to Legacy98?” she asked softly, a little unsure of herself. A beat of silence followed the question, “Yes, I am.” was all he said, “Not much of a talker, are you?” she quipped light heartedly. He let out a soft chuckle - the kind that just comes from your nose “No - I suppose I’m not” he responded, a smile toying at the corners of his lips. A sigh escaped her - “Well, my name’s Kit, It’s nice to meet you. I like long walks on the beach and eating shredded cheese from the bag when I’m sad” she wasn’t exactly sure where they reply came from but the rumble of a chuckle over the phone made her smile. A short silence followed as if in contemplation, “My name’s Aemond -” the following sentence that garbled over the phone line fell of deff ears, surely they were joking right? right? Shaking the stunned silence from her throat with a cough “Um, I’m sorry - I didn’t catch that, you said your name was Aemond - right? as in -”. He cut her off, his smooth voice overlaying her own “As in Aemond Targaryen”. Aemond said it as if he and his family weren’t house hold names and constantly on the front pages of magazines, there were fan pages online dedicated to this man. He could feel the tension on the phone line “All I ask is that you come to one event with me, all you have to do is act as arm candy. I’ll pay for all the expenses. If you find you still don’t want to do this - we can go our separate ways”.

Her eyebrows rose as a smirk spread across her face “Deal” was all she said, he made a sound somewhere in-between an acknowledgement and a grunt before he hung up.

Legacy_98: Meet at this address tomorrow at 8am, do not be late.

Planetary_m0ans: I won’t.

She flopped back onto her bed, a satisfied grin on her face and a thrumming in her ears. Things just got a hell of a lot more interesting.

taglist: @adelusionalwriter @princesssszzzz @chainsawsangel @poppyreader @sahanna @hopelesswritergall @arcielee

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summ6rbummer · 2 years ago

Note

patrick hocksetter x female bully victim

ASKFJSKDJHSLA BLESS YOU FOR GIVING ME SOMETHING TO WRITE ILY (PSA) if you like any of my work, pls pls pls request something!! i love writing these!

okay i got this in the bag. im not gonna use a lot of descriptive terms for the girl in this because i didnt get a lot of input WHICH is not a problem but i dont wanna make this unfit for the requester (or anyone frls) anywayss basically the reader in this is has been targeted for quite a few years, starting in elementary with bowers and hocksetter, then in middle school with huggins and criss. i also wasnt sure if this was supposed to be a ship or romantic or not butt im making it a little bit. but not a lot. im gonna js start writing now i hope you enjoy!! also this might be a little long.

little one

patrick hocksetter x female! bully victim

(first person)

tw! stalking - lowkey sexual harassment - mentions of suicide-

first day of 5th grade, stepper elementary school derry Maine. my mom had picked an outfit for my first day, a pair of overalls and a little striped short sleeve with my boots and some ponytails. thinking back, that was an adorable outfit. yet the way i remember feeling when they ruined it was not.

i had that class with dumb and dumber themselves, patrick hocksetter and henry bowers. i didn't know much about them at the time, considering that 5th grade was the first year i had a class with either of them. id heard rumors about henry and some boys he was friends with being huge bullies and to steer clear of them, so when i walked into that classroom on the first day and saw them sitting in the back corner, warning signs flashed in my peripherals.

id always been an anxious kid, hell my parents bothered me about it every chance they could get. anyways, i was already having stomach quivers about starting school, and now i was in the same class as them. of course, as i was trying to lay low, the teacher decided to put me at the table in front of them. i could just feel the terrible intent radiating off of the boys behind me, through the icebreaker games, through math, reading, science, and even recess. recess was where i met my best friend, Emma. she was in the other fifth grade class, with the other two boys, reggie and victor? i think that was his name. she told me all about the things people say about the group.

especially patrick. they say he killed his younger brother with a pillow when he was five. im still shocked to this day about that. but i remember going back to class after that and feeling oddly cold sitting down in front of that boy. throughout the rest of class, i was slowly preparing myself to ask the teacher to move my seat. so when the dismissal bell rang, i waited for the rest of the students to leave, including patrick and henry, to go to the teacher and tug on her sleeve to ask her to move my seat.

the next day, she sat me across the room, next to a boy named jonathan. i was feeling much better about that class, until about halfway through lunch. i was sitting with Emma and Jonathan, chatting about our highscores in dig dug. out of nowhere, it got extremely quiet in the lunchroom. i stopped talking and carefully looked around, before realizing everyone was looking at our table. my blood ran cold as i realized Emma was staring at something directly behind me, dead eyes and mouth agape.

slowly i turned around, only to be met eye to eye by patrick hocksetter. he had a sca smile on holding a balloon filled with something and a thumbtack. before i could even ask what he wanted, he stabbed the balloon directly above my head, letting bright blue liquid splash over my hair, and down my face and clothes. he erupted into laughter, followed by the rest of the boys, followed by scattered giggles across the lunchroom. i coughed in shock, blinking, before the burning sensation set into my eyes. i started crying, and my throat was closing at the smell and my coughing. through my blue blurred eyes, i stumbled up, shoved through the four boys and the rest of the laughing lunchroom and ran out to the bathroom. before i could even make it there, a hand grabbed the back of my shirt.

henry had pulled me out of the bathroom doorway, and now i was surrounded by the boys.

'hopefully that'll teach your stupid fucking girl brain not to snitch to the teacher about us." i heard a voice sneer at me. i rubbed my eyes and watched through blurry vision as they turned and started walking back to the lunchroom. "but we aren't done with you SNITCH" i heard henry yell as i carefully stumbled into the bathroom.

and they decided they weren't done with me. not for the rest of the year, not for the year of 6th grade, or 7th grade, or 8th, or oven freshman year. and each year they got more and more creative. it evolved from shoving me on the playground, to snipping off pieces of my hair when i wasn't paying attention, then when i hit puberty, showing off my bled-through gym shorts, catcalling me in the hallways, and snapping my bra straps. leaving threatening notes in my locker, as well as dead flies, yknow, the usual.

eventually, i got used to the humiliation, but i was extremely surprised that it all came from me just asking to move my seat in fifth grade.

now its sophomore year, and its gotten worse yet better. im only really targeted by patrick and henry, the other two are really just in for the ride. belch, as they call him, is actually kinda nice to me. we have social studies together. i let him borrow a pencil one time and give him homework answers and in return, he kinda started being nice to me. patrick on the other hand was treating me exactly the same. stalking me through the hallways, following me home, leaving me threatening notes, boring his eyes into the back of my head in class, carving his initials into my windowsill....

but it seems like hes become more obsessed than hateful. one time i found a list of my backpack contents inside my pocket. and half the time i dont even know how he finds out some things. its kinda scary. whos fucking kidding its terrifying. and im so fucking tired of it.

he terrorizes me. i sprint home everyday so he cant catch up to me. sometimes they all take belchs car and i hear the engine rapidly approaching me. all these things build up over the days and weeks, and it makes me feel like im genuinely going insane. i have panic attacks on my way to school, i flinch at people trying to hug me, i just live under the freakishly tall shadow of patrick hocksetter. i wonder how he can be so messed up when we're only fifteen.

anyways, back to present day, biology class. which i coincidentally have with both bowers and patrick. lucky me. i sat two desks up and diagonal from both of them, each on either side. it was the second to last month of school, and we were finishing our human anatomy unit.

i was zoned out, listening to the droning, buzzing sound of our teacher's voice. at the feeling of a crumpled ball of paper hitting my shoe, i came back down to earth, glancing over my shoulder at patrick, who had a grin on his face. i slowly reached down and picked up the crumpled note, opening it and reading it.

'you n me behind the school, 3;30. if youre late, pray you're fast enough to get home before i do. which you wont be. thanks little one.'

i let out a shaky sigh when i finished reading the note. then crumpled it back up and shoved a half assed thumbs up under my arm at him so i didnt have to turn around and look at his face.

my hands got clammy as people started to pack up their backpacks, and i felt myself getting a headache as the bell rang and students filed out of the school. patrick and henry sauntered past me, and patrick let his fingers slideeee across the surface of my desk.. like a warning. jesus.

i took a deep breath, preparing myself for what i had in mind about putting a stop to this shit. i held my pen in my hand, in case i needed to use it as a shank.

as i rounded the corner to the back of the school, i saw patrick leaning against a tree, twirling a stick in his fingers. i cleared my throat and anxiously kept walking towards him. he watched me walk halfway towards him, then he pushed himself off the tree and walked to stand uncomfortably close to me.

'what do you want patrick.. '

he scoffed and started walking around me. 'what do i want? well theres a lot of things i want from you.. if youre offering-' he chuckled near my ear, and i could feel him twirling a piece of my hair in his fingers.

i think that was the moment he drove me crazy. i elbowed him in the ribs and spun around, backing away. i could tell i was gonna cry, either out of anger or fear, but there were tears pooling in my eyes.

'im fucking done. what do WANT from me?? I have done NOTHING to deserve this, and yet you still humiliate me, and terrorize me every day. is this really about fifth grade?? because i feel like thats been repaid for a good four years. what do you get from this? do you get off on making my life miserable like some weird perv?? GOD hocksetter im done! im fucking finished! ill have to kill myself before you'll let me live!' i cried, pacing and screaming at him.

i stopped to catch my breath. he looked shocked for a slight second, and then his face went back its natural smirk. he paced towards me, grabbing my face with his hand, squishing my face.

'you sweet little thing. it is repaid. its been repaid for a while. you just intrigue me so much.. i couldn't possibly stop humiliating you.. you're too infatuating.' he stared at every detail of my face, almost mapping it, before he shoved my face away from his hand. he went right back to circling me again.

'yknow.. it was never really about scaring you. i mean of course i enjoyed that part, you're absolutely hilarious to terrorize.'

i almost laughed in disbelief. ive been going through this all for his shits and giggles. what the fuck is wrong with him.

'it really started wayyyy before fifth grade. it was probably around third grade that i noticed you. i think it was when you were in the school concert... i realized how much you stuck out from all the other kids you were singing with.. and i just became infatuated. i think youre real. like me.'

what the fuck is he talking about?? real? of course im real.. what is going on?

he was walking towards me again, and i stumbled a few steps back until my back hit the hot brick wall and i felt suffocated when i realized.

im afraid of you.

'i dont want to be afraid of you anymore. please. patrick please stop doing this to me.' i pleaded, willing the tears back.

he leaned in closer, if possible, pressing me against the wall. i felt him inhale against my scalp, and for a minute, i felt the wind stop blowing and the birds stop chirping, and i could only feel my heartbeat in my ears and could only smell the sweat and bodyspray that came off of him.

then he backed up, pulled his hands off my shoulders, and stepped away. "go. im not done, but you're done being terrorized."

i shuddered. praying he wasn't lying. i slowly turned my back and started walking away, when i heard him call after me.

'hey. just so you know, youre mine. so youre safe for now. but youre still mine. some things are staying the same. go home.'

i turned around again and started walking home, going over what had just happened. on repeat again and again. what did he mean? im real? of course im real..

what the fuck just happened.

ok so i think that was good.. and im done now so thank you sunshine!

-junie

#patrick hocksetter #it2017 #bowers gang #pennywise #derry maine #losers club #belch huggins #henry bowers #victor criss #it 2019 #it #the losers club

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papapascal · 2 years ago

Text

Classroom Crush (Pedro Pascal)

The strap of my bag is practically creating an imprint on my shoulder from how tight I was pulling on it, but also because it’s holding two textbooks, a laptop, and a few folders for my classes today. One of my scheduled classes always gets me feeling giddy and nervous all at the same time. Every Tuesday and Friday I attend the same classroom for two different courses, both of them obviously taught by the same Professor.

Today is Friday, and that means I’ll be there for my Feminist Theory class. History has become my passion, but even more now since the man who teaches them is pretty easy on the eyes. There’s nothing more attractive than a man teaching a women’s history class and knows exactly what he’s talking about. Our class is mostly made up of women, and a few men sprinkled about. Let’s just say this Professor has our undivided attention. Half is looks, half is his exuberant personality, which just makes information absorption a lot easier.

“Are you ready for class?” My best friend appears beside me as I’m in route to class, and the smirk on her face was evident that she was teasing me. She knows I have a crush. “You’ve got this little pep in your step. It’s actually quite adorable. Professor Pascal would be flattered to know how excited you are for his class.” She then gives out a laugh at the way I tensed up and focused on how I was walking so I wouldn’t have that ‘pep’ in my step.

Great, now I’m going to be hyper aware of how I’m walking to his class from now on.

“Oh, shut up!” I grumble.

We turn the corner to head down a hallway when we hear music. It gets louder the closer we get to his classroom.

“Is that—“ F/N begins but pauses to listen closer. “Is that Beyoncé?”

We step into the classroom, following behind other students. They start laughing, and I couldn’t figure out why because they were blocking my view, but when they disperse to head up the stairs to their seat, I see it. Our Professor is dancing. Terribly. And every time Beyoncé asks ‘Who runs the world?’ he’d shout ‘GIRLS’.

F/N began to laugh. I cracked an amused grin.

“What is happening!?” F/N asks loud enough so she can be heard over the music.

“Good afternoon, ladies!” Professor Pascal greets us, ignoring F/N’s question and slightly out of breath.

Behind him is a large screen that has a quote pulled up: There is no limit to what we, as women, can accomplish - Michelle Obama.

Once everyone is seated he uses a small black remote that turns the music off. He perches himself on his stool. He looks very sophisticated for someone who was just dancing to a Beyoncé track—a brown cardigan, a white t-shirt underneath, green, baggy pants, and black, shiny shoes. He’s also wearing a pair of black, bulky glasses on his face. His hair looked groomed but also like he just crawled out of bed. It’s hard to explain, but it looked perfect on him.

“Wow, I’m going to be feeling this in the morning,” he jokes before taking a deep breath. “Don’t question it if I end up laying on the floor in the middle of class.”

Everyone gives out a laugh in unison.

“You’re getting too old, Mr. Pascal,” one of the men in the front says.

Professor Pascal shoots him a glare as his hand reaches back and rubs his lower back. “Fuck you.”

We all laugh again.

“Good afternoon, class! Today is March first, which means for the next thirty days we will be celebrating Women’s History Month, although, we should be celebrating our women and appreciating our women everyday!”

Simultaneously, we’re all clapping.

“Lucky for us though, we get to do just that, even when it isn’t March. There’s people in this world that don’t understand why we devote an entire month to women. I would simply ask them, why not? One day isn’t enough to teach the countless accomplishments women have made that have greatly impacted our history…our lives…our world…and as individuals.”

I’m mesmerized by the way the words flow through his mouth without a slideshow. He knows what he’s talking about. He’s a proud man who is proud to celebrate women. He recognizes women. There’s nothing better a man can do.

He goes on to tie in the quote on the screen before he jumps into the curriculum. He keeps his voice loud and clear so nothing is unheard or misunderstood. He’s confident in his education. He loves women in a way it’s harder for other men to do the same. And how do you not form a crush on someone like that? He keeps my faith in humanity alive.

I enjoy the brief moments he lays his beautiful brown eyes on me.

“I’m going to throw another quote at you, because we like quotes in this class. G.D Anderson—feminism isn’t about making women strong…women are already strong.”

There’s a ‘WHOO’ from the back of the classroom.

“It’s about changing the way the world perceives that strength,” he finishes. He’s quiet for a second to allow us to soak in the words before proceeding. “And you know what, I’ll throw another one at you. Melinda Gates—a woman with a voice is, by definition, a strong woman.”

Clapping fills the room.

“We’re going to name off some strong, impactful women. Just throw them at me.”

“Frida Kahlo.”

“Harriet Tubman.”

“Wilma Rudolph.”

“Clara Barton.”

“My mom.”

“Love that answer!” Professor Pascal exclaims, pointing a finger in the direction of a man who said his mom.

“Me!” I answer loud enough.

He claps his hands together. “Yes!” His eyes are wide and practically sparkling. I couldn’t tell if it was just me but he always lights up when I participate. “If I was capable of doing a cartwheel I fucking would!”

“Give it a try,” one of the students call out.

“Alright!” He raises up from the stool, holds his arms up high above his head, and jerks his body to one side, making it seem as if he was actually going to attempt a cartwheel but not. “I’m kidding, I’m kidding!” He chuckles and slides back onto the stool.

“No, try it!” Another student exclaims.

“I think I’ll have bigger issues than a sore back if I attempt it. Knowing me I’d tumble off the stoop here,” he says, hand pointing down to the single stair that creates a step up to the stage-like platform he’s set up on. “I bet you guys would like that, that’s why you want me to do it.”

“Psh, no,” the same guy he cursed out earlier says.

“I’m too old, right, Randy?” Professor Pascal shoots.

I always forget the guy’s name even though him and our Professor always banter during class. They have a great, playful student-teacher relationship. They’re always amusing the rest of the class. Something inside me envies that…

“I mean, you can prove me wrong right now,” Randy says, shrugging.

“There’s nothing wrong with being old, Randy, but if you keep it up you better have quick hands to catch a flying stool. Anyways!” He flashes us a pearly white smile while we all laugh. “We are surrounded by women who are impactful that you forget that you, as an individual and a woman, leave an impact as well. Your actions and voice are just as strong and important.”

He claps his hands together. “Alright, that’s all I’ve got for you guys today! Enjoy your weekend, stay safe, and don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“Is there anything you wouldn’t do?” Randy asks.

“Exactly. Go have fun!” Professor Pascal exclaims.

Everyone begins gathering their belongings and filing out of the classroom while he turns the music back on. He’s back to dancing, even a few students joining him while they’re leaving. I giggle while still packing my things, shoving my textbook and unit folder back down into my bag. F/N gives me a little wave as she leaves without me.

All of the seats are empty except where I’m sitting, eventually standing up and slinging my bag over my shoulder.

“I enjoyed your participation today, Y/N.”

I look over to find Professor Pascal approaching me, hands stuffed in his pants and a thoughtful smile on his face to match his kind eyes.

“Oh, yeah, it’s a good class to participate in,” I say, and it’s the truth.

“Gotta keep it lively in here, you know? People should be excited to learn about women. It can’t just be another history class.”

I pull the strap of my bag tight on my shoulder. “You’re doing a great job at it. Probably one of the best classes I’m taking. And really, it all depends on the teacher when it comes to how we absorb the information. You keep it real and exciting,” I say.

He chuckles, and I notice the dimples in his cheeks. They make him appear younger—child-like.

“Well, I don’t want to hold you up any longer. I’m sure you’d like to begin your weekend,” he says.

My brain immediately flipped through anything and everything I could possibly say to get me to stick around a little longer. I’m not quick with thinking when I’m in the presence of someone I believe is attractive—man or woman—but today it’s going at full speed. “Wait, could you maybe help me out with the paper that is due on Monday? I’m almost finished with it, but just need help with a few info pieces.”

“Absolutely!” He perks up and pulls his hands out of his pockets while I scramble to throw my stuff back down into the seat. “What ya got for me?”

I flip the top open on my computer and my paper immediately pops up on the screen since I was working on it earlier during class while he was discussing a topic I’m writing about. “I just need a few more things to back my thesis. Like, I have an idea of something but I don’t know how to incorporate it.”

Professor Pascal sits beside me.

“I wrote down a few potential pieces to add though,” I say as I whip out my unit folder and pull out a loose-leaf piece of paper that had my written ideas and citations scribbled down on it.

He reviewed what I had written down, nodding his head as he read, and I’m assuming liking what I had written. He points out the best ones to back my thesis, and then he’s rattling off more from the top of his head that could strengthen my argument further.

I enjoy being in his presence, especially this close to him. The aroma of his cologne lingers off of him and fills my nose. He smells just as good as he looks. He’s then pointing to something on the screen, but I’m too busy watching his hand to listen to anything he’s saying. There’s a tattoo between the space that separates his thumb and index finger. It looks like a bullseye. Simple, but makes me wonder what the meaning is behind it.

“You still with me, Y/N?”

I snap out of my thoughts the second I hear my name. “Huh?”

He begins laughing at me, eyes scrunched up to reveal crows feet, and his face looking absolutely squish-able. Who knew men could be adorable? “I asked if you were still with me, but I think that ‘huh’ just answered my question!”

“Oh!” My cheeks fill up with heat, so I know they’re tomato red. “I’m sorry, I think I just spaced out a little. Sorry.”

“Here.” His large hand slides the paper in front of him. “Got a pen?”

I reach down into my bag, and my fingertips touch a familiar plastic, and I fish out a pen, handing it to him. He gently takes it from me and begins to scribble down I guess the information I missed. “Apply this to your fifth paragraph.” He writes the number ‘5’ next to what he wrote. “And then this…” he jots down more words, “for your conclusion.” He writes ‘conclusion’ next to that one. “But your paper is phenomenal so far. How you transition between each argument and topic is beautiful.”

I could kiss him right now. I could press my palms against his scruffy cheeks and press my lips against his and just experience the warmth of him, or even his hand against my neck. For someone who is a very proud woman, I’d risk anything to have a chance with him. He’s too professional to sneak around and create a romantic connection with a student like me. He’s older. Way older. It’s unforeseeable to believe he would pursue someone as young as me.

He’s sliding the paper back in front of me. “I enjoy having you in my class,” he says.

We connect eyes, and for a brief moment his eyes flick down to my lips and then back up to my eyes. It could also just be my imagination. I’d be delusional to think he’s attracted to one of his students. It was my imagination.

“Just finish this up on Monday. You can turn it in late, even. A lot of work has gone into this paper, I can tell. Just go enjoy your weekend, okay?” He smiles softly before getting up from the seat.

I close my laptop and slide it into my bag, along with my unit folder that I slid the loose leaf paper into. “So I get special privileges?”

“If you tell anyone I just might have to kill you,” he jokes. “Now get out. You’ve already wasted thirty minutes of your weekend sitting in my classroom.”

“Alright, alright, I’m getting out!” I pull my bag over my shoulder.

“Git! Git!” He’s waving me out like an old man trying to chase me off his lawn. “Don’t touch that paper until Monday, you hear!?”

I give him a thumbs up while I’m scampering out of his classroom.

#pedro pascal #oneshot #pedro x you #fanfic #short story #pedro x reader

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the-delta-42 · 1 year ago

Text

Pulling the Trigger

Marinette nervously bit her bottom lip; her new school was a boarding school just outside of Paris. Kaalki had agreed to help her get back to the city in the event of an Akuma attack. She’d been forced to change schools after Adrien had gotten her a meeting with his father, Gabriel Agreste, one of Marinette’s idols. In the meeting, Gabriel had torn into Marinette’s designs, belittling them and mocking her choice of style, before tearing into Marinette as a person and her effects on his son and then, quite coldly, informed her that she would never have a future in the fashion industry and if she was ever near his son again, he’d be sure to have her behind bars.

So, here Marinette was, sitting in a hallway, waiting to be called into a classroom full of strangers. No pressure.

PTT

A blonde-haired girl with tanned skin, called Allegra, pulled Marinette through the halls, talking at a mile-a-minute and introducing Marinette to other students along the way.

“Claude, Allen!” Yelled Allegra, waving at a light-skinned boy with brown hair and a dark-skinned boy.

“Who’s this?” Joked the light-skinned boy.

“This is Marinette Dupain-Cheng!” Said Allegra, making the dark-skinned boy choke on his drink.

“That designer you’re obsessed with?” Asked the boy, as Allegra nodded eagerly, “I’m Allen, this wannabe magician is Claude.”

Marinette waved nervously.

“Sorry, we’re not used to being in the presence of a celebrity.” Said Claude, grinning, “Speaking of, what are your next designs like?”

Marinette winced, “It’s not, I’ve, erm, I’ve kinda been black-listed.”

The three froze.

“Um, can I ask by who?” Asked Allegra, her voice strained.

“Gabriel Agreste.” Responded Marinette, as Allegra sighed in relief.

“Oh, phew, for a moment I thought it was someone relevant.” Said Allegra, “The Gabriel Brand has really gone downhill lately, it doesn’t help that the new model keeps making Adrien look uncomfortable.”

“Yeah, she’s always like that,” Said Marinette, folding her arms, “trust me I went to school with them.”

Allegra froze, and then started squealing.

PTT

Adrien’s leg bounced as he waited for class to start. His father had spoken to him last night about how he had issued a restraining order against Marinette, as well as blacklisting her. He’d made a similar announcement at a social dinner with other fashion designers and members of the elite. His father didn’t like the fact he’d been laughed out of a room.

“Hey, dude!” Greeted Nino, Alya and the rest of the class behind him, “How were your holidays?”

“Could’ve been better.” Said Adrien, glumly.

“How’d things pan out with Marinette?” Asked Alya, smirking slightly.

“Terribly, my father issued a restraining order against her and black-listed her.” Answered Adrien, glaring at the table, “All because Lila claimed Marinette was a stalker and was crazy.”

“Lila, said that?” Asked Alya, in disbelief.

“She practically gloated about it at the photoshoot, actually,” Said Adrien, looking around for Juleka, “Juleka, I need to borrow some of your makeup.”

“Why?” Asked the Goth, frowning slightly.

Adrien pulled back his sleeve, revealing crescent-shaped scars all along his arm, “Lila got handsy and refused to let go.”

“Didn’t anyone do something?” Asked Rose, tears gathering in her eyes.

“They did, but father,” Adrien spat the word out like it was a curse, “refused to listen to anyone but his precious little Lila.”

Alya looked Lila up on her phone, dread filling her when the only result was her interview and Lila’s social medias.

“The lying bitch.” Said Alya, collapsing into her seat, “Marinette told me, and I didn’t think to check!”

Adrien glared at the table, trying to set it on fire with his gaze, “Father’s lost two of his biggest sponsors because of this.”

Alya frowned, just as Lila walked into the class.

“You guys aren’t going to believe what Marinette did to me!” Whimpered Lila, as everyone in the class glared at her.

“You mean telling us about your lies?” Snapped Alya, burning holes into Lila’s head.

“I’m not a liar!” Gasped Lila, her eyes darting to Adrien with a silent command to defend her.

“What?” Scowled Adrien, glaring at Lila as well, “If you’re expecting me to defend you, that deal only worked while Marinette was still in school.”

Lila gaped like a fish, as Adrien leaned forwards, “You do know that lying to my father made him lose two of his biggest sponsors? The Cheng’s and the Ricca’s cut their contracts immediately. The thing is, they had a little clause in their contracts that should their partnership with my father was ever terminated for whatever reasons, he would have to pay back every penny they gave him?”

Lila continued to gape, before clearing her throat, “Well, my mother is a Ricca, they’ll be back in the fold soon enough.”

“Lila, they’ve started proceedings to claim the mansion and they’re claiming all the bank accounts in my father’s name.” Stated Adrien, “Your lies have practically cost my father everything.”

“What’s going to happen to you?” Asked Nino, breaking his glare form Lila to look at Adrien.

“Father’s been under investigation, and I’ve been moved into a temporary home.” Shrugged Adrien, leaning back in his chair, “I’m not getting my hopes up about anything yet.”

Lila went pale, if Gabriel went under, she could kiss her dreams of being rich, famous and wanted goodbye. Lila’s eyes darted around the room, before she scarpered out and started to make her way home. Perhaps it was time for a fresh start somewhere else, somewhere far away from this mess.

PTT

“I can’t do that!” Protested Marinette, as Allegra stared at her with starry eyes.

“Please?” Begged the girl, forming a pout, “I can ask him for modelling tips, and you can just happen to be in the classroom?”

“That would only succeed in getting you in trouble, Allegra.” Said Felix, a blonde-haired, grey eyed boy a couple seats away from them. Marinette felt she’d met him before.

“Oh, please, Felix,” Sighed Claude, “just because you can’t meet Kitty section doesn’t meant I can’t meet Adrien Agreste.”

“Ms. Dupain-Cheng, Ms. Grey, Mr. Cadabra, Mr. Ricca, please be quiet and face the front.” Said the teacher, making the four flush.

“Sorry.” They all muttered and focused on their books.

The name Ricca niggled in the back of Marinette’s mind, trying to remember where she’d last heard it. Her Nonna’s maiden name was Ricca. Marinette’s mind screeched to a halt, and the girl’s head snapped up and stared at Felix.

“Is there anyone in your family called Gina?” Marinette asked Felix, making the boy look up.

“Yeah, my great-aunt, she travels around the world, why?” Responded Felix, as Marinette gaped at him.

“Her surname wouldn’t happen to be Dupain, would it?” Questioned Marinette, leaning forwards.

Felix frowned, before he made the connection.

“Holy shit.”

PTT

Candence Ricca jumped when the phone went off, she quickly checked the caller ID and frowned when she saw it was Felix.

“Sweetie, what’s wrong?” Asked Candence, before quickly pulling the phone away from her ear.

“Why didn’t you say Great-Aunt Gina had family here?!” Demanded Felix, making Candence sigh.

“Rolland doesn’t want to be part of the family, Felix-” Felix cut her off.

“No, not him, Aunt Gina’s son and granddaughter!” Said Felix, making Candence frown.

“I thought they were still in China.” Mused Candence, as the dog ran behind her, chasing the cat.

“Marinette’s attending my school!” Said Felix, making Candence freeze.

“Felix,” Said Candence, her tone serious, “Keep Marinette with you, I’m coming to you.”

“Why?” Asked Felix, confused at his mother’s tone.

“Because we’ve been operating under the assumption that Marinette and her parents died in that plane crash.” Growled Candence, before hanging up.

Candence grabbed her coat and walked out the door towards her car.

PTT

Marinette stared at Felix’s phone. She and her parents were believed to be dead? But they weren’t. They were alive. Weren’t they? Marinette pinched herself, wincing as her nails dug into the skin on the back of her hand. Nope, definitely not dead.

“Any idea what that was supposed to be about?” Asked Felix, looking at Marinette.

“This is the first I’ve heard of being dead.” Shrugged Marinette, frowning, “Unless everyone’s actually dead and this is the afterlife.”

“The afterlife fucking sucks.” Said Felix, before looking at his phone, “Should we head outside and meet her, or should we just wait for the wardens to collect us for death row?”

Everyone stared at Felix.

“Boy, you’re a freak.” Said Claude, after a moment had passed.

The sound of squealing tyres made them look towards the window, a woman with brown hair and forest green eyes all but charged out of the car, while a chauffeur calmly started reading a book.

Felix shrunk slightly, Candence was tall and boarder line intimidating and the impassive expression on her face was usually reserved for the paparazzi. Candence stopped in front of her son and looked down at the, ridiculously, short girl next to him. A familiar pair of blue eyes stared back up at her.

“Marinette?” Murmured Candence, frowning.

“Hi?” Marinette gave a small wave.

Candence grabbed her face and looked either side of Marinette’s head. After letting Marinette go, she turned to Felix, “Wait here.”

Marinette and Felix watched Candence stalk over to the school’s receptionist. A moment later, both of them were in the back of the car Candence arrived in, while Candence was snarling down her phone in Italian. Marinette prided herself on how much Italian she’d learnt from her Grandmother, but now she was silent in shock at the number of profanities coming from Candence’s mouth.

The car came to a stop and Candence hopped out and stalked into a building. Marinette paled that the bakery, before sinking into her seat in an attempt to hide from any passers-by. Felix idly watched his mother speaking with one of the bakery’s owners, a short Asian woman who looked confused. His mother’s posture relaxed, before she calmly made her way back to the car. Opening the door, she gestured for Felix and Marinette to get out. Marinette rushed into the bakery as fast as she could, in an attempt to avoid being seen.

“Marinette?” Asked Sabine, as Felix and Candence came in after her.

“Hi?” Marinette waved.

“What’s this about?” Asked Sabine, looking at Candence, “I’m not sure I understand what you meant when you said we’re ‘supposed to be dead’.”

“You were in a plane crash, ten years ago.” Said Candence, “The majority of my family were under the impression that you, Tom and all five of your children were on board.”

Marinette frowned, “What do you mean ‘five’? The only siblings I have are Michael, Skye and Toby.”

Sabine groaned, before locking the Bakery door and leading the group upstairs.

“This is going to take a while.” Muttered Sabine, as they entered the apartment.

PTT

Adrien shifted uncomfortably as Chris ran around being chased by the twins. The rest of the class were scattered around the living room, Chloé was hugging her legs to her chest, in an attempt to prevent either Chris or the twins from touching her.

“Why are we here again?” Complained Chloé, getting scowls from most of the group.

“Chloé, you weren’t invited, you just followed Adrien here.” Said Alix, leaning back against the sofa.

Chloé huffed, but didn’t say anything.

“We’re here to figure out how to get Adrien’s dad to withdraw the restraining order and blacklist on Marinette.” Said Alya, “She’d do the same for us. Now, we need to focus on what Lila said to him and how we can disprove it.”

Meanwhile, across Paris in Gabriel’s office, Gabriel was fighting off an incoming headache.

“The Chengs and the Riccas are willing to come back to the table if you reverse you decision on Dupain-Cheng’s restraining order and Blacklist status.” Said Nathalie, standing by the door, “It would seem your attempt to akumatize her has failed. Again.”

Gabriel groaned, but Nathalie found she had little sympathy for him, “There’s also the matter of Mlle. Rossi, she’s at risk of being sued for defamation and/or slander by a number of parties. A number of Gabriel employees have now come forward and have reported that Mlle. Rossi has been harassing Adrien during the photoshoots.”

“Release her from her contract, as get M. Hayworth on the phone.” Grumbled Gabriel, as Nathalie sent the various messages off.

“Today couldn’t possibly get any worse.” Muttered Gabriel, taking his glasses off and looking up.

PTT

Hector frowned at the letter in his hand. He’d just posted his notice; he was getting too old to deal with the mayor and having to cave to his whims and wants. He hoped Arthur would accept his request.

Contrary to popular belief, he didn’t tolerate Bourgeois, any of them. He only bowed to their wishes because otherwise the school’s funding would ‘mysteriously’ get cut. But, Arthur’s school was independently funded. It had a lot of wealthy doners, preventing Bourgeois from taking full control of the school for their principle. Hector knew he wasn’t a good man, evidenced by his handling of the Dupain-Cheng-Rossi incident. He acted to hastily, due to the fact that Rossi was shaping up to be another Bourgeois. A headache within a migraine, within another migraine. Hector ignored the pain in his chest, putting his proposal to Arthur in an envelope, before getting to his feet and walking out of the school to find the nearest post box.

PTT

Marinette choked on her drink as she saw the headline on the common room tv.

Local Paris School Principal found dead

Marinette quickly located the remote, before turning up the volume.

“Don’t be bemused, it’s just news,” Said Nadja, to the camera, “Earlier today, Hector Damocles, Principal of College Francais Dupont, was found dead near the Eiffel Tower. Police are not treating his death as suspicious, and believe it to natural causes.”

Marinette stared at Damocles’ picture before it faded away as Nadja moved on to other topics she had to cover.

PTT

Arthur Coleman frowned down at Damocles’ letter to him. The Academy had been looking to expand its reach, as well as find an appropriate campus for ‘day’ students. He decided to put the letter to the side and bring it up at the next governors meeting.

PTT

“Don’t be bemused it’s just news,” Marinette idly listened to the TV in the common room, as she scribbled in her sketch book, “earlier today, Gabriel Agreste, Head designer and owner of the ‘Gabriel’ brand, formally ‘Papillon’, has declared bankruptcy. This occurred after two of his main investors unexpectedly withdrew their support after nearly twenty-five years. Neither Gabriel Agreste nor the investors were available to comment.”

Marinette stared at the TV, before Allegra dropped down onto one of the sofas, “Didja hear the news?”

“You know, you have the powerful ability to chew and swallow before you speak.” Said Felix, snapping his book shut, “But of course, you have to get the first word in, as always.”

Allegra chewed a couple of times, before getting up and walking over to Felix, crouched down to they were level and opened her mouth, showing him the mess of chewed food and saliva, “Blegh!”

Marinette internally groaned, before resting her head against her sketchbook. Claude and Allan were greeted to Felix trying to hit Allegra with his book, with Marinette curled into a ball with her hands over her ears, nursing a headache.

PTT

Adrien stared down at the pile of paper in front of him, “You mean I own everything?”

“More or less.” Said M. Hayworth, “The house, the company, practically everything your father had been using.”

Gabriel scowled as Hayworth spoke.

“If he hadn’t made that ridiculous restraining order, no one would’ve known.”

“Oh.”

“As it stands, your father made illegal modifications to your property, as well as some other, far more serious, charges.” Stated Hayworth, “Mdm. Sancoeur has volunteered to look after you while this matter has been settled.”

“Okay, what were the other charges?” Asked Adrien, making Hayworth sigh, before he cast a dark look at Gabriel.

“It came out that your father has some…connection to Hawkmoth.” Revealed Hayworth.

“What the fucking shit?!”

PTT

Ladybug skidded to a stop on the roof of the police station, before looking up at the detective, “Sorry, I’m late. I had to sneak out of my dorm.”

“You’re in university?” Asked the detective, getting a wince from Ladybug.

“No, I’ve started to attend a boarding school.” Answered Ladybug, rubbing her arm.

“And you’ve snuck out and come here,” Said the detective, slowly, “on a school night?”

“You, erm, you said you had a lead on Hawkmoth.” Excused Ladybug, looking up at them.

“Gabriel Agreste had been allowing Hawkmoth to use modified areas of his home as a lair.” Said the detective, “He’s been cautioned and is currently being questioned. We’ve also made sure to confiscate everything he had on him, minus his clothes and glasses.”

“And you want me to go over the stuff and see if any of them are a miraculous.” Stated Ladybug, getting a nod from the detective. “Okay,” Sighed Ladybug, “let’s do this.”

PTT

“Settle down.” Yelled M. Coleman, looking out at the sea of students, “SILENCE!”

Everyone went quiet, allowing M. Colman to continue, “As everyone knows, the foundations beneath our school has started to degrade and, as we are a private school, we lack the funds to repair it.” Coleman took in the faces of the students in the first few rows, “Which is why we are entering a partnership with College Francois Dupont, allowing us to continue your education while were repair and decided what to do with this campus.”

Some muttering broke out amongst the students.

“As of January, everyone will be attending Dupont.” Said Coleman, “We have been allocated dorms by Dupont, so that any students who live further away from Dupont will still be able to attend and keep with any groups they may have made or joined.”

The muttering started up again, as Coleman walked away from his podium, talking quietly with another member of staff.

PTT

“So,” Said Allegra, looking up at the school, “I guess this is the last time we can look at the dump before we go to your old stomping ground.”

Marinette hummed, “Part of me doesn’t want to go back. I haven’t been in contact with my friends there, I didn’t want to find out if they’d agreed with Adrien’s dad. I mean, I know they probably didn’t, but I didn’t want to take that risk, and I didn’t know if the restraining order covered allowed me to contact them, since there were around Adrien so much.”

“Being scared is normal,” Shrugged Claude, playing with his deck of cards, “unless you’re Felix, who has no emotions.”

“Say that again and I shove those cards right up your-” Felix was cut off by Allan clearing his throat, “rear.”

The group silently looked up at the school.

“Two and a half years.” Said Allegra, suddenly.

“What?”

“It’s been two and a half years since Marinette came here.” Answered Allegra, wistfully, “It’s been a fucking ride.”

“You can say that again.” Muttered Allan, before picking up his bag, “I think I can hear the bus arriving.”

“Thank god, I’m freezing my tits off.” Shivered Allegra, getting a snort from Felix.

PTT

Tom helped Marinette carry her bags into the apartment above the bakery, with the latter making sure she didn’t walk into anything. Marinette blinked as she tried to adjust to the darkness of the living room, after placing her bag on the floor, she reached out for the light switch and clicked it on.

“SURPRISE!” Everyone yelled, making Marinette yelp and jump a foot in the air.

All of Marinette’s former classmates, and the friends she made at the boarding school stood in front of her.

“The, the ‘surprise party’ trick,” Gasped Marinette, “is for birthdays only.”

“No, it isn’t.” Disagreed Alya, before throwing her arms around Marinette, “I’ve missed you girl.”

Marinette gingerly wrapped her arms around Alya, “Me too. I’m, I’m sorry that I haven’t been in contact with you.”

“Allegra explained everything, with the whole restraining order and phone troubles you’d been having.” Said Alya, “Adrien’s had his lawyer rescind the restraining order, but I think they’re attempting to use it as evidence in his dad’s trial.”

Marinette winced, before glancing over at Adrien, “Yeah, I heard about that. I’m so sorry.”

“I’m not.” Chirped Adrien, his hair streaked with green, “I brought a copy of the restraining order. And a cigarette lighter.”

Marinette gave Adrien a small smile, before the sound of someone choking got her attention, “Allegra, you're supposed to chew before swallowing.”

#miraculous ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #adrien agreste #alya cesaire #nino lahiffe #lila rossi #rose lavillant #juleka couffaine #chloe bourgeois #gabriel agreste #nathalie sancoeur #original characters #Delta Writes

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