#its not well enough paid to live alone in my city at least

[postmoderntongues]

Sucking dick for drugs is prostitution not consent. I'm sorry for what you went through. I hope you can heal. I know sometimes it is hard to accept your full trauma.

It wasn't so cut and dry, we were really super close and loved each other a lot but I wasn't the kind of girl he dated. He wasn't creepy or pushy at all he is still somebody Im close with and its just something we sometimes laugh about like how wild we were as kids. He was my FP before B so I wasn't opposed to fooling around. It was the most shallow tip of the depravity iceberg when it comes to that year. He was the shot caller of the whole operation. When he got into cars or went to off campus houses to do dealer shit he aways brought me along with him as backup because he said people get disarmed and are less likely to pull shit when you have a female with u but I was also big/strong enough to hold my own if things didn't go well. We never ran into any trouble. He taught me a little bit of Russian and how to hold my hand under my shirt or in my pocket to look like I was armed (which we couldn't be because he lived in the city during Stop And Frisk).

We met because I bought a tab of acid off of him, my first ever, and when he heard it was my first he said I shouldnt do it alone and smoked me out and showed me cool cartoons all night and it was great like really great guy never did me wrong once. I liked him enough that I would had hooked up with him if he'd even just asked me. It got around school that I was good at sucking dick and he told me he'd give me acid if he could see what the big deal was and I asked for 3 tabs expecting 2 but he agreed to 3 plus some weed and what was left of a gram of Molly after a night out and a plastic bag full of room temperature fourlokos that somebody had paid for weed with instead of cash which was great bc we were still years too young to drink. But like I said it wasn't like he was paying me for what I was doing the transactional element was more about me not expecting it to change our relationship and not telling anybody and like to make it less weird if it was just like business between bros. There was also a thing about my gender situation and the local attitude toward it more like matter of fact we were about things the more likely that we wouldn't risk bringing his sexuality into public question. And like he was fun he was a shock-junkie like me so wed put gore on instead of porn and try to outdo each other trying to make the other one tap out with the most fucked up ultraviolence we'd heard of since the last time.

And then like it just became a convenient arrangement for both of us like I wanted to get high he wanted to get off other than with B its probably the sexual experiences with a male that I feel best about neither of us were weird about it I always felt completely free to say no and it wasn't something he ever did with anybody else and it wasn't like it was ever proposed bc i was desperate or had no money or was already fucked up on more than just weed and adderall. Again it was something I would have done for free the transactional element just made it easier to be casual. Like I blew him and his polish friend together once in a dark backyard at night for no other reason than the fact that one of my worst habits is that I match people's freak and then escalate. I got a bunch of weed after but it wasn't part of the arrangement they just gave it to me after because then it was easier to kind of contextualize the situation of being uncoerced by delusions of romance on either side.

And like I thought that was how u became somebody's favorite person or at least cemented your importance to them so as long as I liked the person I was always chill with whatever things escalated to because like that's what people who liked each other did if neither of them were repulsively ugly. I agree that prostitution is never consensual but he wasn't buying my consent he was buying my silence to some degree but I have no bad feelings about it when I think about it its just something funny and edgy and kind of wild that went on when I was a teenager. I think he just kind of knew I was doing something for him and he wanted to feel like it was a 2-way street and knew i wasn't interested in reciprocal sex and we both liked that it was a little fucked up.

[nothingunrealistic]

text translated from french by google:

The actress Eva Victor, revealed by the series Billions, divides her time between big productions and indie works. She came to visit us during her last stay in Paris.

In the series, you often play young people from Gen Z who question their environment. Are you as committed as the characters you play?     Eva Victor: I had the chance to play roles of people who try to do good. I like the idea that my generation wants the world to be better, that they at least have this hope. As I can be quite pessimistic, it's inspiring for me to play them.

You are on strike right now. Yes, in support of the Writers' Guild of America (WGA). I feel lucky to do it with the other members of my union, SAG, knowing that we are acting for those who are doing least well: many do not even earn enough to be entitled to health insurance (the threshold being set at $27,000 per year). This is insane.

Negotiations are moving slowly. Yes, because studios and streaming platforms want to continue making billions at our expense. They are not ready to give up what they have acquired on our backs. Right now, they want the right to our image forever by using Artificial Intelligence to eliminate our jobs. It's frightening. They don't want to recognize the value that we artists bring to the world. This is senseless, and devastating. There, they want to drag things out so that we end up giving up. We have to hold on.

You are also an author, with texts published in the New Yorker. If I couldn't write, I don't know what I would do. I'm so grateful that it was a job, that I was able to make money from my writing. People sometimes think that writing or acting are dream jobs, and therefore they don't deserve to be really paid. No, it’s work, daily, solitary, complex… It must be valued!   

You were born in Paris. How did you move from France to Los Angeles? Yes, I was born here, in the 1990s. My mother lived here for around ten years, she was an architect. And about a year and a half after I was born, she moved to San Francisco where she met the man who raised me with her.

How did you start acting? I knew I wanted to be an actress when I was 18. I studied theater in college, then I moved to New York and I was like, “This has to work!” I started auditioning, I acted in a few plays, I made my own little videos that I put online. I did that for about two years, it put me on the map. And I was on the set of a film for the first time and I understood that this was what I wanted to do.

On your social media bio, you put the pronouns “she” and “they”. I feel pretty fluid, and I think that attitude translates into everything we do. I wouldn't call myself an actress, for example, I just do what I want to do, when I can. Here you have "iel", but it's less common, right?

Yes, it remains within a restricted group of people. I love when people use “they” or “she” interchangeably, because it reminds me of my fluidity. And I like it when it confuses people. I think we live in such a binary world that this stuff deserves to explode and go beyond the binary.

Are you viscerally New Yorker? I love this city. But now, I left New York and traveled a lot for two years. Every time I go back, I tell myself that it is a magnificent city, like Paris, with its particular magic. You can walk, the streets are lively... It's difficult to feel alone there.

Unlike Los Angeles? I'm from Northern California. I spent a lot of time there last year to see my family and enjoy the nature which is more easily accessible there than in New York. There's something truly beautiful about being in a cabin, alone, in the California wilderness.

Do you need solitude? I need a lot of time to think. So yes!

Are your stays in Paris a kind of pilgrimage? I try to come back here once a year. To recharge my batteries, to visit the place where my mother gave birth to me. You imagine? It's the 1990s. This woman is pregnant, alone, American. I think what if she gave birth to a baby in the middle of the night in Paris, in a city where she didn't speak the language very well, and in a hospital surrounded by French nurses smoking cigarettes while she gave birth, I can do everything!

When you are in Paris, do you feel connected to her? Everytime! We each have the same tattoo of Île Saint-Louis on our arms. When my mom got the tattoo, she almost fainted, but it was really cute. One day, we will come and settle here to grow old together. A day.

note that the word translated as “actress” in the lead section of the article is different than the word eva uses when they say they wouldn’t call themself an actress. though the latter is the same as the word used to describe eva in the headline 😒

[cephalopodvictorious]

Lmao ok, and I'll also tag @plzdonthitmewithyourcar since they also asked in the tags

So back in college I took two trains (in NYC) to get to school in the city, and I would always be in the back car on the train to be closest to the exit by home, but one day, my friend was making a transfer that would be easiest if she was at the front of the train, so whatever, I get in the wrong train car. He, on the other hand, was having a shit day and wanted to go to Jamba Juice, but his day got worse because his job hadn't paid him, and he wasn't going to risk an overdraft on an impulse smoothie, so he decided to just get on the train and go home early

So its two stops later my friend makes her transfer, we hug, she runs off the train, and I am now stuck on this train alone for another 40 minutes before I make my transfer

Except I look up and catch the eye of his guy who is just. very handsome and has these beautiful brown eyes, and he's definitely interested, but not in a leering sort of way, and when he sees me notice him, he gives me a small smile from across the crowded train. So I give him a little smile back, and we basically spend the next 40 minutes appreciating each other across the train. At one point I try to be slick about it and he catches me staring at his reflection and he's visibly smug about it lord have mercy

But this is NYC and it's the middle of the day so the train gets packed and I lose sight of him and I go "ah, well, that's that" and I settle in to fuck around on my phone. We reach the stop I transfer at, I get off the train - and there he is on the platform, also looking surprised to see me, but kinda pleased

He kinda tips his head and pulls out one ear bud, so I pull one out and he goes "hey uhhh, can I get your number? It's fine if its no, I just gotta at least ask of I'll kick myself all week about it, ya know?"

And he was so fucking sweet and I cannot stress enough how warm his eyes are and how gentle his vibe is, and the way that we were now out in the open and he was standing close but not blocking any escape routes, despite being a tall, large dude in a tight space, and I thought "yeah fuck it!" and gave him my number

Just then another train pulled in and we said hasty goodbyes and separated. We both didn't realize that we got on the same train, just in different cars. He lived in my neighborhood a few stops past me

When I got off the train he was already texting asking me to a bar, but I texted back that I would prefer coffee. He said that was cool, but asked if there was a specific reason no bars, just for his own planning purposes, and I said I couldn't get into bars as I wasn't 21 and he immediately texting back asking how under 21 I was, and if he'd made a grave miscalculation about my age on the fly. I told him I was 19 and in college and he texted back "oh thank god" because he was 22 and in college, and we decided to get coffee and see if we clicked. We clicked. We talked for hours and ended up wandering the neighborhood for hours holding hands, until he walked me home

My mom's demon dog, who bit literally everyone that wasn't the immediate family (he was a three legged shelter dog who bit out of fear of even the nicest people) raced out of the house and I thought "ah, this is where I lose him", and the dog didn't bite him. He leaned his weight against his knees tucked his tail and looked so confused and let this huge dude pat him and say hi and play with his ears a little and then limped back into the house, looking bewildered. (I would later find out that there is not a dog or baby that doesn't also pick up on the vibe and realize that he's actually lovely, and that they all immediately love him too)

So naturally, we've been together 14 years as of this spring, married for two as of this summer

There's a bunch of other silly little things, because apparently our lives had been accidentally entangled romcom style since the start and we'd been orbiting each other the whole time without knowing

my husband was at a bar with friends tonight and apparently he was telling the regulars about how we met because they didn't believe in real life meetcutes and he needed them to know it's possible 😭

[gotnofucks]

A Man’s World

Pairing: soft!dark!Andy Barber x Reader

Summary: To advance in a man’s world, you must allow one to own you. He promises you success, as long as you give yourself to him.

Words: 3.1k

Warnings: Dub-con (at the beginning), smut, language, implied age gap, poor knowledge of law and legal system, 18+ ONLY

A/N: This is my late entry to Berry’s Sugary 4k Challenge (everyone go and send some love to @donutloverxo​ for being so awesome. I am also dedicating this fic to Lexi ( @bluemusickid​ ) who’s had a difficult few weeks recently. I hope you feel better my love.

Sweat was building under your top hat, the urge to itch making you frustrated with the delay. The officer before you was young, probably your age and fumbled with the papers you had handed to him. You tried to relax, almost as nervous as the man in front of you and tried to console yourself with the fact that he was far too jittery to look at you long.

No one will find out, you’re safe.

“Sir?”                                                                                  

You chewed your chip, feet tapping irregularly on the ground in agitation.

“Sir?” The officer said again, peering at you worriedly. You quickly pulled down the rim of your hat, still not used to being called ‘sir’.

“Uh, yeah. Yes.” You said, clearing your throat and trying for a deeper voice. The officer handed you your papers back, all signed and stamped. “Thank you.”

He nodded slightly and motioned for you to wait while your client was brought out. This was the first time you’d been out in the open alone, the fear of discovery clashing with the freedom that ran in your veins.

“Did you bail me out?” A rough voice asked. You looked up at Mr. Lane, a huge mountain of a man who towered over you. You nodded and offered him your hand to shake, wincing as his rough palms scratched against your soft ones. He looked doubtfully at you and you could understand why. You barely looked like a person who belonged in the police station, no matter as a man or woman.

“I am Mr. Barber’s assistant. He was busy with a hearing and sent me to bail you out. If you’d follow me to his office, he’d like a word before we proceed to your trial next week.” You explained, a little more confident. You knew the work, you knew the ways. You only needed to sell your lies to make your truth valid.

Mr. Lane nodded, following and entering the coach outside the station after you. He sat across from you, eyes narrowing as he ran over your soft features, the clip clop of the horses the only sound within.

“You old enough to be an assistant, boy?” Mr. Lane asked, and you scowled. Oh, how you’d like to tell him you were old enough and good enough to be not just an assistant but also a lawyer. You could be the one representing him in court and making him a free man. You should be that one. But, alas, this world doesn’t see women doing much rather than peeling potatoes and popping out a child every second year.

“I am.” You replied in a gruff tone that made it clear you weren’t about to entertain more questions. Your companion nodded, looking out the window and into the streets where peddlers screamed about discounted watches and handkerchiefs and buttons. Not many people had cushioned coaches like this, but Mr. Barber insisted one for your travels.

The journey to the office was quick and silent and you gestured Mr. Lane to follow you up to the top floor where your boss sat in his office. Some people nodded at you, now getting used to seeing you here though they didn’t stop to talk. You had never spoken much to anyone here outside of the receptionist who was deaf in one ear and considered every man under the age of 40 was a boy.  

“Wait here, I’ll let you in in a moment.” You said and had Mr. Lane take a seat on the benches outside. Then, you knocked softly and entered, shutting the door after you. Andy was sat behind his desk, frowning at some paper, and beckoned you closer without looking up from them. You walked over to him, licking you lips softly.

“Sit.” He said, taking your hand and pulling you into his lap. You positioned yourself on his thigh, squirming a little. He scribbled something in the corner of his paper before pushing it away with a sigh, turning his face to you. His eyes, bluer than the ocean at the docks, glittered at you and a small smile curled on his lips. With a practiced move, he removed your top hat and released the band that held your long locks tied together at the top.

Running his fingers through your hair, he leaned closer to press a kiss on your lips. You instinctively kissed back, holding onto his shoulder and moulding your lips to fit his.

“How did it go?” He asked, caressing your cheek softly. You fingered his collar, not looking in his eyes.

“I was worried someone will see through me.” You softly murmured. “There were so many men out there.”

Andy chuckled, pressing another kiss on your lips as his hand sneaked around your waist to bring you closer.

“There are always going to be men around. But you must remember you’re better than them. Better than any other son of a dick out there pretending he is the boss.”

You looked at him at that, taking in his beautiful face that had you smiling and crying in equal parts. You could tell exactly how that well-groomed beard felt between your legs, how those lips could make you utter the filthiest of sounds and curses and how those large hands touched you in the dark of the night.

“Better than even you?” You tentatively asked and Andy smiled, taking your hand and bringing it to his mouth.

“You’ve always been better than me.” He said. You blinked and looked away, his gaze far too intimate to hold. Try as you might, you could not figure this man out. Months you’d spent with him, living, and working and being his any way he asked, and yet he was as much a mystery as he’d been the first time you met.

“Uh, Mr. Lane is waiting outside. Should I call him in?” You asked and he nodded, squeezing your side before releasing you. You put your hair up again and wore your hat, hiding your face under its shadows and calling the client in.

When a girl turns a certain age, she is expected to find the most eligible bachelor and flutter her eyelashes in a bid to secure a match. Your mother threw grand balls for your sisters and was planning an even grander one for your introduction to the society. But you had had enough of dancing with lecherous bastards with as wandering hands as their eyes. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being bound to one of them, so you took your chance and ran.

Leaving behind your quaint town, you entered the bustling city with an assortment of clothes and a heart full of hope. It took you a week to understand that this was no place for you, no place for a lady who dreamt of being her own person. No one wished to employ you, a young girl who had no business demanding pay and rights.

However, in this bustling city of strangers, you found a man who wished to own you. Andy Barber told you in no uncertain terms that he would not hire you as long as you dressed like a woman, but he also promised that he could train you to be better than any other man. Provided, you give yourself to him. You weren’t naïve enough to pretend to not know what he was asking for, but you were desperate enough to say yes. This was better than a marriage anyway. There too, a man would have parched his thirst over your naked chest, but at least here you could learn and get paid for it without being bound to him.

Andy was not unkind. As a mentor, he was strict and meticulous. He worked you hard, taught you well, gave bitter feedback but praised you just the same. As a lover, he was exacting, exploring your chaste body with touches rough and soft, demanding response and reverence. The first night you laid with him, he spent hours worshiping you. His lips, lined by his bushy mustache, traced your face and neck, roving over each contour of your body until his mouth had tasted all.

The modesty you had guarded forever was bare to his gaze, but he didn’t lust like a man who cornered women in dark alleys. He had knelt before your open legs like men of cloth did at the lord’s altar, kissing the dewy folds of your sex with so much passion and delicacy that you had indeed felt like a goddess. Never had you imagined a man to put his mouth there, not when your mother had told you it was unclean. Andy, on the other hand, tasted it like he tasted absolution in your nectar.

He taught you more than simply law. The pleasures of flesh, of learning to please yourself and your companion were lessons that took place in the dark of night. He whispered things that Satan preached in your ear, seducing you into sin that you soon came to crave.

“Touch yourself”, a command he gave often. Nothing pleased him more than seeing you bring yourself to completion with your eyes trained on him, thoughts full only of him and how his body rocked yours.

You had done a great many things with him, things that had you flustered for days on end whenever your thoughts would turn to him, but what you were doing now was nothing short of scandal. It was blasphemous, something that would ruin you way more than if people found you falsely parading as a man in the city.

“Andy!” You hissed, pushing against him to no avail. He had dragged you into the men’s room inside the courthouse, cornering you against the wall and pressing his body flush to yours. He was wearing his best clothes today, about to represent an important man in a case that had made the front page for two weeks straight. Time together had been more work than pleasure, and it seemed Andy had reached his breaking point right before the trial started.

He started working on the buttons of your waistcoat, a frenzy in his eyes. “I need to take you now. This might as well be the most important case of my career, and I’ll begin it by being inside you, and end it just the same!”

You moaned, letting your hands roam his body as he finally undid your waistcoat and shirt, frantically ripping away at the bandages that bound your breasts. As he took one of your hardened nipples in his mouth, you palmed his pulsing hardness from over his pants, shivering at the thought of feeling it inside you again.

He scared you like this, for someone could walk in and see the illustrated Andrew Barber making a beast with two backs in the male room with someone who greatly resembled a man. He will be ruined. You would be ruined. And as of now, the very thought of that caused wetness to pool in your underpants.

“Get on your knees and taste me.” He urged, pulling out his cock and pumping it. “As you sit beside me today, I want you to have my taste in your mouth. One day, I’ll sit beside you too.”

You were a gently bred lady of impeccable reputation, but you sunk to your knees with the practiced move of a street woman to take him eagerly in your mouth. Oh, if your proper mother could see you, sucking a man like a whore in the damp men’s room, her teachings of propriety and modesty all but forgotten. But nothing made you feel more than a woman that receiving Andy like this. His desire, his need for you burned in his eyes and you lapped on those flames to quench the thirst in your heart.

His hand moved behind your head, easing you into taking him deeper. “Look at me” He whispered, and your eyes met his, shining with unshed tears. He did this to you, reduced you to who you loathed to be and yet loved. Swirling your tongue over his soft skin, you bobbed over his length, the squelching sounds filling the small room.

Just like always, you tasted his power and his yearning. The milky drops of precum coated your tongue, your nose taking in the smell of his musk as he groaned above you. He reduced you, but then why did you feel raised?

“Touch yourself, let me taste you too.” He ordered, and you complied. Your hand slipped inside your pants, finding your moist core. Generously lubing your fingers in your slick, you rose on shaky knees and presented your wet fingers to Andy who sucked them eagerly in his mouth. Warm, wet, his tongue took in your taste with relish.

You couldn’t stop but stare into his blue eyes, eyes that should have haunted your nightmares, but you only saw them in sweet dreams. “Kiss me” You begged, and he did. He kissed you like a man starved, like a man who could suck out your soul and draw it in himself. He kissed you like dew kissed the morning grass, like the colours of rainbow that scattered in the sky to paint it pretty.

“Tell me where you want me, how you want me.” He said, surrendering control. You stilled, hands resting on his chest. How were you to lead him when he was infinitely more experienced about the art of making love?

“I – I want you inside me.” You softly said, eyes fluttering as you shy looked away. Why was saying what you do so many times so difficult.

“Inside where?” Andy asked, tilting your chin up again. You gulped, your face and chest flushed.

“In my – in my” You stuttered, fearing to speak the word he spoke often. “In my pussy.”

You would have thought he would ravish you as soon as you said the words, instead he brought you closer and nudged your nose with his. His breath came out in erratic spurts, his need evident in his gaze. “You will put me inside you, however you want. It’s time I let you take some lead.”

Holding his gaze, you pumped his length gently before turning around and presenting him your ass. You struggled to position him, trying to place his tip at your opening. He didn’t move an inch to help you, only chuckling slightly when you huffed in frustration. Finally, you felt him at your slit, and you slid him between your folds carefully, trying to coat him in your wetness like you’d seen him do.

“What if someone walks in?” You asked, hesitating for just one moment.

“They’ll have to wait while we finish. You’re not walking out of here unsullied, so how about we hurry up?”

You pushed back into him, taking him inside your pulsing sleeve with ease. The stretch of his cock had always felt good, a pain that had a lasting effect and reminded you of him. As you moved back and forth, urging him to meet you halfway, you wondered why the self loathing never came. Andy had a way of making you feel like a queen when others may suspect you of nothing more than a whore.

“Andy” You brokenly said as he thrust inside you faster, “I want more. Please.”

He gave you more. He took over, holding onto your waist and sliding home inside you in deep, powerful strokes. You whined under his assault, jerking when his fingers found your nub and mashed it. Praises, curses, words of love and lust that had the power to destroy hearts and armies flowed freely from his mouth, as if the only thing tethering him to this earth was your body.

Your hands went to play with your breasts, a strangled moan caught in your chest. Suddenly, even when he moved inside you with such passion, you craved more intimacy than his cock could offer. You tilted your head to the side, offering him your mouth that he took in a sensual kiss. You were so close that you couldn’t decide what limb was yours and which was his anymore. In the age old dance of sensual love, you became one.

“What do you want?” He asked, and your eyes met his. He asked you this every time, and you had always answered the same thing. But today, this felt different. You were in the courthouse, a lawyer’s battleground and also the place of worship. He was more than your mentor and boss, he was also the man who you had grown to care for so deeply it could only be called one feeling.

“Inside me. I want you to finish inside me today.” You answered and his hands clutched you tighter. You’d never allowed that before, never allowed him to call you his so completely. But you felt compelled by his heat today, by the desperation he never bothered hiding from you. Once, this may have felt like a chore. Today, it was your blessing. “Andy, make me yours.”

He groaned, pumping in you with abandon and bringing you over the edge with his fingers that were running circles around your clit. You moaned loud, blubbering in pleasure that spilled from you, uncaring if someone were to walk in. His thrusts were getting irregular, hips jerking until you felt him twitch and release inside you in hot spurts. Warmth bloomed in your core, your essence mixing with his.

He hugged your sweaty body to his, the wool of his coat scratchy against your flesh. “You were mine, even before. Now, more so than ever. And one day, when you’re ready, I’ll claim you in front of the world as fully as my heart has done in private.”

You felt him run his thumb over your ring finger and licked your lips. He wasn’t asking, and you weren’t answering. But one day, maybe you will. Until then, you were happy to be his beautiful secret, posing as his assistant and learning from him.

“Don’t,” He whispered hotly in your ear, turning you around swiftly. “Don’t think too much. We’ve got a case to win.”

He helped you dress again, buttoning your shirt and waistcoat with nimble fingers. He was getting back to being your boss, and you couldn’t have been prouder of him at this moment. One day it will be you in his spot, you knew it.

“Just one question.” You said, fixing his tie and smoothening the wrinkles on his clothes. He raised an eyebrow at you, softly smiling at the mischievous look in his eyes. “What will happen once I am a lawyer too?”

Andy chuckled, pressing the softest of kisses on your lips. “Whoever wins more cases gets to be on top of course.”

You exited the men’s room with him, head high as any other man’s. As you entered the courtroom, you licked your lips and smiled as you tasted him on your tongue.

[peakyblindersxx]

whiskey buisness - john shelby x reader (part 2 of ?)

read part one here!

a/n: hey loves! i'm finishing up school rn, but i had to get this out and i'm about to start working on a tommy request immediately after i upload this. anyways, i'm so excited to post this series, it's incredible and i can't thank my bestie @stxdyblr-2k enough. she is a fucking genius :)

prompt: you can't get john out of your head. lo and behold, here he is.

warnings: fluff, mentions of smut, angsty af, soft john (ugh my heart)

Despite your best efforts, you'd been unable to stop yourself yearning for John Shelby. Your pokey flat now often lay empty; you were far too busy to mope at home due to your career as a personal assistant to a local solicitor who was allied with the Shelby's, attending rallies and lectures with Ada and the drunken nights you'd spend at various mansions, galleries and club openings with the "razor chasers" you'd become friendly with due to their refusal to leave Ada alone. Yet still, in those odd seconds of calm you seized over a cigarette, the first seconds after a bump of Tokyo, when you carefully applied your makeup, styled your hair or bathed, you'd think of him. The way the pads of his fingertips felt on your skin, how he’d muttered in your ear how pretty you looked.

But this was different to when you were dreaming about John at 15; he was no longer the allusive older brother of Ada who had a string of beautiful girls on rotation. He wasn’t a fantasy anymore. He was true flesh and blood, and for a moment he had wanted you.

It would be delicious if the whole situation hadn't left a bitter taste in your mouth. Of course you came back to Brum to only immediately fuck it up. The first night, and already you were so close to ruining everything? Looking back, now that you were so close with Ada once more, now that you knew who John had grown to be, that night was cringe inducing. Luckily, no one had seemed to catch on. Luckily, you thrived in the Small Heath rumour mill once again. All the gossip about you was mainly about your substance use, the lads you were seen curling up with outside nightclubs, your intelligence, your helpful nature, sometimes your questionable politics but that was all. John's was far darker, stories of blood, death and gasoline. Recently, the tales of his conquests had quietened, but only due to the lurid delight taken by the factory workers in talking about the recent blinding of some poor fucker who'd crossed the wrong person. Obviously, a lot of the detail had to be exaggerated for shock value and to boost the Shelby status, solidifying them as notorious throughout Birmingham city and its rural surroundings. There were murmurs everywhere about the violent John Shelby: ruthless, cocky, vengeful. It seemed impossible that the same man who cracked shit jokes just to see you smile, kissed you with so much desperation, and prioritised getting you off first could cause such harm without an ounce of guilt or shame to slow his swagger.

Whispers of war were far more constant, but then again, people would say anything for a reaction. You didn't bring it up with Ada. You refused to (openly) partake in mindless gossip on principle, yet you were hungry for information about him.

***********

You'd long forgotten whose wedding you were at. Some loyal blinder, a close friend of the Shelby's, the occasion calling for a large white marquee to be built onto one of Tommy's gardens, fully staffed with the best chef and service team money could buy (from a London restaurant at short notice; when Finn told you the extortionate figure Tommy had paid, your jaw had dropped). The cake, dress and decorations were stunning; you weren't sure exactly what the groom had done for the Shelby's but you could only assume the worst for what they'd splashed out on him.

However, thinking like that only spoilt your night: you'd realised at your fifth club takeover, now you repeated it like a mantra constantly. You'd quickly learnt every excess the Shelby's granted to those outside their circle were due to some perceived sacrifice for being associated with them. Well, that's what you chose to believe after John had sent a junior blinder to your office with a bouquet, the Monday morning after he turned you down. So, it was best to smile and take the shit, get paid, and get out as soon as possible. You were to keep your head down until then.

Yet, keeping your head down was difficult tonight. Ada had treated you to a shopping trip to London for the occasion this morning, Arthur forcing the junior blinders to tag along next to you on the train and trailing less than two metres behind you for hours. You missed the days when it was just you and Ada. It was far more simple without the stares whenever the two of you stepped out. Ada had gotten used to it, she'd devised her own methods of being completely alone; complex plans involving leaving a window open, knotting sheets into a rope and twisting her ankles. Not that she minded, she reckoned the suffocation of being a Shelby was much worse than a few bruised ankles.

You were wearing a clingy emerald green dress from some fancy French boutique you couldn't even pronounce, the diamond necklace sitting along your collarbone and the jewels dangling through your ears were on loan from Ada. You felt eyes unpicking you the moment you entered the after-party. Your arm was linked through Ada's as per usual, she looked equally stylish in a peacock blue number that set off her eyes, her delicate features perfected with makeup.

You'd quickly found your gaggle and began drinking and dancing the night away. Whispers about snow arose from your table, people disappearing to the toilets to rail a line on the bathroom counter, then to the dance floor or to the lap of the poor fucker who'd hold back their hair while they vomited in just a few hours. At least the Blinders were polite about it. Isaiah would kill them if they weren’t. You'd let your arm be tugged on various bathroom trips, treated among your group like secret missions although you weren't entirely subtle about it.

What you weren't aware of was across the marquee, you were being watched by the three men in your life who you'd never want to see you in this state: the Shelby's.

"Looks like Finn's taken your spot, John." Arthur yelled in John's ear over the loud music, gesturing to the youngest Shelby sat at the table next to you who was staring up at you in complete adoration as you chatted across him to Michael, seemingly arguing with him. By the looks of it, you were winning.

John pulled a face at Arthur. “Fuck off, old man. That'll never happen. Finn’s too young for her." He immediately regretted the words that had fallen out of his mouth, revealing far too much for his comfort.

"It's not impossible."

"He's just not right for her, yeah?"

"And you are?"

John didn't bother to bless him with a verbal response, instead flipping him off and downing the rest of his whiskey. "It's not like that."

"What's it like then? Because from where I'm sitting, it's pretty fucking clear, John." Arthur slurred, glass of whiskey sloshing onto his sleeve.

"You're too gone to even know you're chatting shit." John sneered, standing up, "I'm off for a smoke and some fresh air. Try not to fuck anything in my absence, both of you."

His brothers cursed him out as he left. John took a second to figure out his route, purposefully having to cross your path, gesturing for you to follow him subtly. He was surprised you came trailing after him, telling Michael that you weren’t done yelling at him and you’d be back. When you were both only metres from the marquee, he knew you were fucked. You were instantly bored, begging him for a cigarette, which he lit for you, shaking his head at your state.

"You're a fucking mess, love." He said, mouth sloping attractively to one side.

"Takes one to know one, John-boy. Where are we off to, then?"

"Somewhere fucking quiet, can barely hear myself think. Plus, you need to sober the fuck up, lass." He said, softly, as he walked across the dew soaked grass. You followed, heels in hand, holding your dress up as not to ruin it. He sighed, taking the shoes from your hands and wrapping his blazer around your shoulders, linking your arm through his for stability. He kept the distance respectful, but there wasn’t any denying the thick tension in the summer air between the two of you. Ahead, there was a small stone bench sat at the foot of one of Thomas' manicured gardens, and John offered his hand to help you sit. You made small talk and caught up on each other's lives, and you noted John only seemed to glow when you asked about his kids. He talked at length, the drink seemingly unhinging his jaw. There he was again, the John you knew and had admired for so many years. You could sit here forever, watching his blue eyes sparkle in the sunlight. Yet, it just wasn’t meant to be. You wished you could stop time just for a bit, give you enough moments to memorize the freckles on his skin.

"You know the night I first came home?" The alcohol and snow had loosened your lips. You were teetering on the edge of your boundaries, but you couldn't care enough to hold back.

"The night where absolutely nothing happened?" He joked, raising an eyebrow at you, cautious that you'd randomly brought it up in your state. "Sweetheart, this can wait."

He was warning you. For a second you managed to bite your tongue, but curiosity tipped you over the edge.

"But something nearly happened, right?"

"Y/N. Don't." He warned, his tone icy, suddenly distancing from you, hiding between an emotional boundary which he didn't wish to explore.

"John, it's just us. Can't we even talk about it?"

"There's nothing to talk about, though. You were off your face then, and now. That's fine. We know where we stand. It can't happen."

"I wanted to. I do want to."

"You don't. Trust me. You need a nice lad who'll marry you and look after you. Just need to keep your nose clean long enough yeah?" He teased, trying to lighten the mood, blue eyes begging you to move on.

Your head turned to face him, your face contorting in a mixture of confusion and irritation. "You don't get to tell me what I want or need. The last thing I want is to marry any lad, nice or not."

"I didn't mean it like that, right? Look, I just meant you deserve better than Shelby scum. You're going places you know? Don't settle for Small Heath." John responded with a pained sigh. He didn’t want to get into it with you; not here, not like this. He'd thought about it, naturally. You were constantly on his mind, yet only problems ever seemed to appear, never solutions. It was best for him to avoid you. Why the fuck did he drag you out here? Horrible idea.

"Your family isn't scum. Where the fuck did you get that from?" Your face was screwed up in genuine rage. "I-"

"Y/N, fuckin’ leave it."

His face had hardened completely now. He'd snapped at you. His voice hadn't raised, it was just the power he spat his order out with. You held up your hands in mock surrender, pointedly taking a cigarette from his front pocket and light it silently, not saying a word.

"Why are you so bothered, anyways?" He asked, breaking the silence like you knew he would. John always had to ask questions.

"Fuck off with that, John. I'm not in the mood."

"What do you mean?" He looked completely lost.

"We nearly had sex. Just sex, nothing else right?"

John remained silent.

"Would it be the worst thing in the world?" You asked, your voice wavering. It was hard enough to get the words out, let alone imagine the response.

"You're far too wasted to chat about this, love."

"John, I’m not-"

"I'm serious. You're fucking mashed like my brothers aren't you? Like all those other fuckers in there." He sounded genuinely angry. In the glow of the sunset he looked so much younger, so hurt and lonely. Why hadn't you noticed before?

He turned to you, eyes widened and shocked at his own outburst. "You're not the only one gone yeah? Ignore me, I'm fucked, sorry."

You reached out your hand and linked your fingers through his in silence, the warm evening wind ruffling your hair and dress, blocked from your skin by John's suit jacket which was wrapped around your shoulders. Not that anyone would notice or care. As long as Ada wasn't with you, you could disappear for hours without any alarm. There you sat in the tranquil last few moments of the day, your hand linked with John's, both beyond tipsy. You weren’t thinking properly but it felt right. You felt safe. You didn't want to have to return to the chaos of the party, to have to catch up on who your friends were currently trying to screw. None of that seemed to matter anymore.

Was it too much to ask for something to be simple? Maybe you didn't have to fuck him. Maybe just these small moments were enough. You laughed at the thought when it crossed your mind; neither you nor John were known for consistency or stability in relationships, you being admittedly rather inexperienced, only having been with a few men, and he had his fair share of escapades. But he was just so different. You wouldn't admit that he'd gotten your attention in any way than purely sexually (which surprised you to admit) and for fun, but you genuinely enjoyed his presence.

He was right though. It wasn't a good idea at all to hook up. There was far too much baggage for both of you to make it worth it.

Just once?

You glanced over at John. He rolled his eyes at you, but the edges of his lips were slightly upturned, his dimples faintly peeking through his defined cheeks.

Just once couldn't hurt.

***

The sky was streaked with shades of gold, amber and blood. John could feel the friction from your knee barely knocking against his, the pressure putting him on edge. In fairness, he had drunk heavily, and that's what happens when you let your guard down around beautiful women. He couldn't believe you had told him you wanted to have sex with him still. He'd chalked the whole situation down to a drunken mistake that would have progressed into a far more significant drunken mistake. Ada would never forgive him if he went for another of her mates. Especially Y/N. No matter if he said that Y/N could be different, that you wasn't just another conquest. But who'd believe him?

Far better to keep his mouth shut.

Far better to play safe.

As you were called back to the party by the gaggle of girls John vaguely recognised from hanging off the arms of other blinders, he realised (despite his state) that you were right. Having sex with you wouldn't be the worst thing in the world. In fact, it might be one of the best.

Just once?

He watched your figure disappear back into the marquee, waiting for you to turn back and look for him. You do. He would have done the same if it was him.

Maybe just once wouldn't hurt.

***

to be continued!

[thebigbadbatswife]

One Single Thread Of Gold Tied Me To You

Summary - Everyone is tied to their soulmate with a red thread tied to their wrist. All except Y/N’s, who’s thread is gold. Tired of waiting for her soulmate to come and find her, she decides to go and find them. It doesn’t go quite how she expected it to.

Warnings - A little angst

[A/N] - This is a soulmate au where you and your soulmate are attached by an unbreakable red thread (or, in this case, gold), tied to your wrist. This was inspired by the song 'Invisible String' by Taylor Swift.

Word Count - 4k

As the early morning sun slowly filtered into your room, through your blinds, you carefully examined the thread attached to your wrist. Everyone had one; it was your link to your soulmate. Yours was different to everyone else though. While everyone had red, yours was gold. As you turned your wrist, it caught the sunlight and glistened a little.

Everyone you knew had always been fascinated by it. As was nearly every stranger you met. Why was it gold? What exactly made you and your soulmate so different to everyone else’s? Questions you had often asked yourself as well. Why were you two so different?

Your family had a theory that whoever it was, they were rich. Very rich. That was surely the reason it was gold. Nothing else made sense to them. Meanwhile your friends were completely convinced that your soulmate was some kind of God.

“Come on, Y/N! It’s the only thing that makes sense!” Tracey said before taking another sip of her third glass of wine. Her usually bright emerald eyes were glazed over from all of the alcohol. “Why else would it be gold?”

“You gotta admit, Tracey might be drunk right now, but she has a good point!” Skylar joined in. She took her brown eyes off the blonde and looked over at you before continuing. “Oh! What if your soulmate is like Wonder Woman or Superman or something! How cool would that be?”

You rolled your eyes and took a sip of your own glass of wine. “Stop it. You’re both being ridiculous,” you had told them because they really were being ridiculous. There was no way your soulmate was a member of the Justice League, let alone an Amazonian Princess or the Man of Steel.

You were, of course, curious of your soulmate yourself. Who wouldn’t be curious of the person they’re destined to end up with? But you didn’t think up the crazy theories your friends and family liked to come up with. Instead you wondered things like, what kind of hobbies do they have? What’s their favourite colour? What type of music do they listen to? Were they a cat person or a dog person? And other things like that.

Another thing about the thread that tied you to your soulmate was that, while everyone could see the thread around your wrist, only you and soulmate could see where it led. While you had always wanted to follow it, you had decided that it would be better to focus on having a decent job and place to live first.

During that time a small part of you had hoped that maybe your soulmate would come looking for you, but since they clearly weren’t, maybe you should? After all, you had a well paying job and a great apartment, so why not? Every job was legally required to allow people time off to go search, so that wouldn’t be an issue. It was paid time off as well so you didn’t have to worry about money. You also had a car so you wouldn’t have to spend a shit ton of money on travel. At least, you hoped you wouldn’t. In truth, for all you knew, your soulmate could be in a completely different country. Now that would certainly complicate things.

Shaking that thought away (because there was no way fate could be that cruel), you got out of bed and set about putting the wheels in motion that would allow you to start following your thread

‘ Welcome to Gotham City! ’ the sign read as you drove past it. When you had told those close to you, your plan, they had been super supportive. Now, if they knew where your thread had lead you, you doubted they’d be as supportive. Hell, even you were rethinking things now. Out of all the cities for your soulmate to be in, it just had to be this one.

How did you know it was this city that they resided in and it wasn’t just another stop along the way? It was hard to explain, but you had a feeling deep within your gut, almost like a sixth sense that just yelled “Yep! This is the place!”.

You felt extremely uneasy as you drove through the city. It was night-time as well which did absolutely nothing to help. Honestly, of all the times to arrive in Gotham, night-time was definitely the worst. Well, there was nothing you could do about that now, you just had to keep on going, so you did.

The golden thread snaked through the gothic city and went from the “posh” part of the city all the way to the worst part of the city. The buildings were run down and most of the windows were boarded up. Each turn you took there were shiftier and shiftier characters on every corner. You started to get the feeling that you really shouldn’t be here. Plus you were starting to wonder if you really wanted to know who your soulmate was if they were hanging out in neighbourhoods like this.

You brought your car to a stop in front of a particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway. A particularly dark and sinister looking alleyway that your golden thread lead straight into. Coming to this part of this city was already a bad idea. Continuing to follow that thread to what had to be your certain doom was even worse. Yet, at this point in your mission, you were pretty much committed.

You couldn’t help out a quiet and very nervous laugh as you climbed out of your car. ‘ This is fucking insane ,’ you thought as you stepped out of your car. Before shutting and locking it (though you doubt that would do much to protect it in this area), you grabbed your pepper spray. ‘ I really hope your worth all this .’

As you followed the thread down the alleyway, you heard a sudden loud bang. A gunshot. You stopped in your tracks and you could feel your heart pick up its pace. Your thread lead in the direction the shot had come from. ‘ I really hope you weren’t involved with that .’ Taking a deep breath, you continued down the alleyway.

The alleyway lead out onto another street. There was a small crunching sound as you stepped out onto the street. Taking a step back, you looked to the ground to see what you had just stepped on. The ground was littered with small shards of glass. Looking up, you figured the shards of glass were from the bulbs from the streetlamps. Something had broken them. It didn’t take you long to figure out what, or rather who ,was responsible.

Further down the street, taking on group of ten men, was none other than Gotham’s Caped Crusader. The Batman.

You quickly ducked back into the alley you had just left. You then carefully peered around the wall, so you could watch the fight. You were well aware of the fact that your thread was leading straight toward the fight. Which meant that your soulmate was involved.

You watched the fight intensely, both intrigued and terrified to figured which one of the men was on the end of your thread. There was a voice in the back of your head praying hardcore that it was the hero in the centre of the fight.

Batman was a blur of black and dark grey as he rapidly made his way through the group of men. With a variety of different punches, kicks and gadgets, he made short work of them. During his combat flow, you followed your thread with your eyes and a small gasp left you as you realised who the other end was attached to.

Holy fuck. You’re friends had, kind of, been right. While your soulmate wasn’t Wonder Woman or Superman, like they had suggested, he was apart of the Justice League’s ‘Big Three’. Your soulmate was Batman . At least now you knew why he hadn’t come looking for you. He’d been busy saving the world.

Now you had to figure out how to approach him before he ended up disappearing into the night.

Exiting your cover, you took your thread between your finger and thumb and gently tugged on it a couple of times.

Batman looked at his end of the thread curiously as your tugs had gotten his attention. Then his head drifted upwards, following where it lead till his eyes settled on you.

If he was shocked, he didn’t show it. He just stood there, his eyes never leaving you. Part of you wanted to cower away from the intense stare, but you willed yourself not to. He was your soulmate, and you weren’t a criminal,  you had no reason to be afraid.

“You shouldn’t be here,” he said, finally ending the silence between you. His voice was deep and almost robotic sounding. Probably some sort of voice modulator to help hide his identity, you figured.

“In Gotham? Yeah, this place really sucks,” you replied, thinking about all the things you had heard about this city, “but I came here to find my soulmate; to find you.”

“You shouldn’t have.” His voice was sharp and serious as he spoke. He also sounded irritated at your sudden appearance, which caused you to frown. That couldn’t be right… could it?

“What?” You hated how meek and pathetic your voice sounded, but you couldn’t help it. Wasn’t this supposed to be a happy moment? One of the happiest in your life in fact. Instead you felt like you were being scolded rather than meeting the person who was supposed to be your other half.

“I didn’t want to meet you. Now I suggest you go home. It’s not safe here.”

What? You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. There was pressure behind your eyes and your throat tightened. You took a shaky breath as you took a step backwards away from him. It quickly sunk in that the man you’d been destined to be with, the man you had thought about since you were old enough to understand the concept of a soulmate, wanted nothing to do with you.

“I-I’m sorry I disturbed you.” Your voice broke as you fought back the tears that threatened to fall. You weren’t going to give him that satisfaction. You then turned around and ran back toward where you had left your car.

As fast as you could, you started your car up and made your way to a safer part of the city. It didn’t take you long to find a somewhat empty parking lot to park in. Once the engine was off, you screamed and aggressively slammed against the wheel as you let the tears freely fall.

You felt like a complete and utter fucking idiot. Of course he didn’t want you. You’d probably just get in the way of him saving the world or something like that. Besides, what was that article you had seen a few months ago? Something about Catwoman and a relationship between the two? While it happened very rarely, some people in the world had been known to reject their soulmate because they had found someone they deemed better. Is that what had happened? Whatever the reason, you could feel your heart breaking.

You had used to think that, out of all the members of the Justice League, Batman had been one of the cooler members. Now all you could think was that he was a massive jerk.

Maybe it was your own fault for romanticising the whole thing and thinking that your meeting would be something out of a fairytale. Apparently fate was far crueller than you could have ever thought it to be.

Bruce watched as she ran away from him, back down the alleyway she had come from. A small voice in the back of his head told him to go after her. To grab her, hold her close and apologise, tell her that he hadn’t meant it. He ignored it and headed off in the opposite direction, back to where he had left the batmobile.

Over his comms, he heard a barely audible sigh and he could easily picture his butler and lifelong friend shaking his head in disappointment. No doubt he was going to get an earful once he got back to the batcave. Well it certainly wasn’t the first time.

As the batmobile pulled up in the batcave, he could see Alfred waiting for him. ‘ Here we go ,’ he thought as he got out of his car and removed his cowl.

“I don’t want to hear it,” he stated as he walked past him and toward the batcomputer. He set his cowl down on the desk. Even as the words left his mouth he knew he had wasted his breath. If there was one thing that Alfred had done consistently since Bruce had started down this path, it was letting him know when he disagreed with something he did.

“Was that really necessary Master Bruce? She’s come all of this way…” Alfred started, but ended up trailing off. There was a small moment of silence before he continued. “You know, I remember a small boy who couldn’t wait to go out there and find…” Before he could finish what he was saying, Bruce promptly cut him off.  

“What would you have me do, Alfred?!” His voice echoed off of the cave’s walls and disturbed some of the bats still hanging on the ceiling. Bruce gestured toward his equipment and the display cases that held some rather badly damaged batsuits. All of them testaments to injuries that had come far too close to killing him. “Would you really have me force this life on to her? The dangers, the no guarantee I’ll come home…” He took a deep breath and rested both his hands on the surface of his desk. “She deserves so much better.” His voice was quiet, but still easily heard in the, almost, silent cave.

“With all due respect, sir, I believe she should be allowed to make that decision, not you,” Alfred replied before leaving the batcave, not giving Bruce a chance to respond.

He looked in the direction of the stairs that lead up into the manor. The direction that Alfred had headed in. Was he right? Should he be leaving it up to her to decide what she wanted? But with all the dangers he faced nightly… No, it was better for him to stay far away from her.

Over the following week Bruce found himself distracted. It didn’t matter where he was, what he was doing, he couldn’t focus. And considering what he did once night fell over Gotham, to say being unfocused really wasn’t good was a complete understatement of the situation. He had been having far too many close calls recently.

He couldn’t get it out of his head. The way she had looked at him as he told her he didn’t want to meet her, that she should leave. Alfred’s words echoed in his mind and he found himself questioning the decisions he had made that night. Something that Bruce rarely, if ever, did. Everything he did was meticulously planned and there was never any doubt when he made a decision. Was this what happened once you met your soulmate and rejected them?

Bruce was sure that the rest of the Justice League had taken notice. With how off beat and slow to react to certain things, it would be hard not to. Of course, if they had, none of them had mentioned it to him. Apparently they knew better. For the time being, at least. He was sure it wouldn’t be long before they did try to pry into his personal life.

Which lead him here. On the roof of the building opposite of Y/N’s apartment building. He hadn’t needed to do any extensive research to find her, or learn her name, because he had been in this exact spot a couple of years ago.

Two years ago Bruce’s own curiosity had gotten the better of him. He blamed Clark and his soulmate, a reporter by the name of Lois Lane, for it. He had seen them one too many times in the Watchtower together and had found himself wondering who exactly his soulmate was and what they was like. As a result, he had gone looking for them. Not because he wished to finally meet them, but so he could make sure his soulmate was safe and happy. And she was, so he had left. Only ever checking up on her every now and then to make sure she had stayed that way.

He looked down at the golden thread that came out of his gauntlet and lead down toward the apartment he’d been watching. Both as Bruce Wayne and Batman he had made sure to keep it well hidden. With its unique colouring he couldn’t allow anyone to see it. It would be all too easy for his enemies to find her if they did see it.

He knew that by being here he was easily undoing everything he had done to keep her safe, but, then again, had she not done exactly that when she had tracked him down in Gotham? Besides, and while he would never say it out loud, Alfred had been right. It should be up to Y/N to decide whenever or not she wanted all the baggage that came with him being in her life. Baggage that had driven more than one person from his life…

He shook that thought from his head and got up from his crouched position on the roof. Bruce then leapt from the roof and allowed himself to fall for a couple of seconds before opening up his cape and let it catch the wind that was rushing past him. He silently glided over to her apartment’s balcony.

Y/N was in her apartment alone. She was sat on her sofa, the light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room.

Bruce was unsure of how exactly to go about this. Back in Gotham he had originally thought of approaching her as Bruce Wayne, but quickly discarded it. Bruce Wayne showing up at an out of the way apartment building was sure to garner attention. As would Batman using the front door, so the balcony had seemed to be the best option. But now that he was here, he wasn’t entirely sure it was.

Should he just knock? That seemed like the best way to go about this. It was going to scare the everloving daylights out of her, but he could deal with that.

He gently rapped the glass of the balcony door with his knuckles. As he had expected, Y/N leapt up from her seat. A bowl and the contents of the bowl followed her and scattered across her carpeted floor. She spun around and when she saw him, the look of shock on her face quickly turned to anger. Her eyes narrowed and he swore that glare would be enough to make even the toughest of Gotham’s thugs would cower at its intensity. Maybe she would deal with his life better than he thought.

After a minute of glaring at him, she turned around and walked toward the lightswitch. At the same time, she gestured for him to enter.

“What the fuck do you think you’re doing here?” she demanded as soon as he had entered the apartment and shut the door behind him. The rage in her voice was evident and Bruce was sure he could cut the tension in the room with a batarang.

“I came to apologise,” he said, his voice gentle despite how distorted his modulator made it sound. Y/N scoffed immediately. He didn’t blame her. If he was in her shoes, he wouldn’t believe him either. After all ‘Batman’ wasn’t exactly known for making apologies.

“Yeah right.” She rolled her eyes and crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m being truthful. I… I shouldn’t have said what I said. It wasn’t right.”

“Then why did you say it?” A fair question and one he had an answer to. Before he even said it, Bruce was aware how cliché it sounded.

“I wanted to keep you safe. This life isn’t for everyone.”

“So without even meeting me, you decided that it wasn’t for me.” She shook her head. “That’s not your decision to make!” she yelled at him.

“I know. It’s been pointed out to me before.” In fact that night in the cave wasn’t the first time Alfred had told him that. “But that’s why I’m here now. To give you all the information you need to make that decision.”

You listened intently as Batman explained the dangers of the life he was leading. The dangers that effected the people in his life in one way or another. He also made it a point to reiterate the fact that when he left at night or was summoned by the Justice League there was no guarantee he would return. You asked the occasional question, but for the most part you just listened to him to talk and let his words sink in.

You got it. You understood the very clear concerns that Batman had about this whole thing, they concerned you as well, but you weren’t about to let it deter you. You wanted to know your soulmate. Even if it ended horribly, like he was saying it would, you felt it in your core that you would regret not knowing him, especially if the worst truly did happen. And you told him so.

“Even if you’re not wearing a mask, this life is dangerous. Anything can happen.”

“Anything could happen to me when I leave my apartment each day.”

The superhero life wasn’t special in that regard. As you spoke, your voice was a lot calmer than it had been earlier. In fact, as he had spoke and explained you had found your anger slowly fading. You still wanted to slap the jerk superhero before you, but that was a considerable downgrade from your overwhelming need to deck him when you first saw him standing on your balcony.

“It won’t be easy.”

“I’ve never backed down from a challenge before.”  

You admired his commitment to deter you, but it wasn’t going to work. You were too stubborn to let it. Something you were positive he was learning very quickly.

“There’s nothing I can say to convince you that this is a bad idea, is there?”  

“Nope.” You made sure to pop the ‘p’.

Batman sighed deeply. You watched as he looked away from you and toward the golden thread that linked the two of you together. You could almost hear the gears in his brain turning as he thought. Then he was looking back up at you.

“In that case then.”

You watched as Batman brought his hands up to his cowl. Your eyes widened and you couldn’t help the small gasp that left you as he removed the cowl and revealed his identity to you. Bruce Wayne. While you didn’t live in Gotham City, you were well aware of Gotham’s favoured son. You would’ve had to have lived underneath a rock to not know who he was.

And apparently your family had been right on the money, literally. Not that you cared about the money, you weren’t superficial like that. Personality was far more important than the material items someone may or may not have. In your eyes, at least.

You both stood in silence, his blue eyes studying you, probably trying to gauge how you were going to react. To be truthful, you weren’t entirely sure how to react. Except maybe…

“Well, it’s… it’s nice to meet you Bruce Wayne. I guess this is the part where we forget about what happened and start over?”

“If that’s what you want.”

“It is.”

Yeah, sure, this was probably going to end horribly, but you were looking forward to the adventure that lie ahead.

[myherowritings]

hearts intertwined | t.s.

— You and Todoroki have been roommates for months now but have barely had more than a two minute conversation. When quarantine hits and everyone is on lockdown, you find yourself forced to spend more time with him and actually end up...enjoying it? 

pairing: todoroki shouto x reader word count: 3,055 genre: roommate au, pro hero!shouto, fluff warnings: suggestive content, 16+, mc and todo are both mid-20s

a/n: this is written as part of the crackhead sanctuary’s server collab! (pls excuse my server name lmfdkgfdg i have terrible naming skillz) i hope y’all enjoy and pls lmk what u think!! xx sof

In many ways, Todoroki Shouto was the perfect roommate. 

He cleaned up after himself, always made an extra serving of food and set it aside for you (though it may only have been because he sucked at measuring out ingredients rather than him intentionally planning on leaving you leftovers), and generally kept his volume to a minimum when entering the apartment at ungodly hours of the night. 

There was also the fact that he was the most attractive person you had ever shared a living space with in your life, and seeing him shirtless on his way to his bedroom from the bathroom was a definite bonus.

But despite all that, he was never someone you considered yourself close to.

You needed help paying for rent and expenses and he happened to be a friend of a friend of a friend who was looking for a place in the city to stay. Call it a divine intervention, a gift from the gods, or even fate… But you still wouldn’t consider yourself his friend.

It wasn’t as if you didn’t want to befriend him--Todoroki seemed like a sweet person. It was more along the lines of neither of you having the time. While you spent most of your day in the lab studying and doing research, Todoroki was always working in his office or out in the field to fulfill his new hero duties. 

This quarantine was probably the first opportunity either of you had to be in the same building for more than thirty minutes at a time. Which was why, as the two of you sat side-by-side on the living room sofa, no one knew exactly what to say.

“So, the weather--”

“Looks warm out--”

Both of you opened your mouths and shut them at the same time.

“Sorry,” Todoroki said with a small smile. “You first.”

“I-- Oh… It was nothing,” you managed, clearing your throat in an attempt to compose yourself. “Just trying to make some small talk.”

With a tight-lipped smile and wide eyes, you slowly craned your head away from his view. Who admits they’re trying to make small talk? That breaks all the rules of how to properly talk to someone.

The faint sound of the television playing old infomercials buzzed in the background while you and your roommate sat in silence. You never struggled to talk to him during those brief moments of passing, so why now? 

Looking at the screen to pass time, you noticed an outdated commercial of an older Tamagotchi game playing and felt yourself breaking out into a grin.

“Aw, I miss that game!” you cried as you turned to Todoroki with an excited glint in your eye. “Don’t tell anyone, but in elementary school I used to play it in class and since I was such a goody two-shoes, the teacher never suspected a thing.”

He raised an eyebrow in response. “I see we have ourselves a rebel in disguise here.”

“It’s our little secret, though. To everyone else, I am the epitome of innocence.”

You couldn’t help but notice the way his gaze travelled down your body and lingered on where the fabric of your oversized pajama shirt stopped and the expanse of your thigh started. 

“Sure. I believe you,” he said in what was almost a teasing tone. 

You felt your face growing hot but you paid it no mind. 

“As you should,” you sniffed, crossing one leg over the other haughtily. When he chuckled, you turned back to him. “How about you? Are you a secret bad boy who played with his Tamagotchi in the back of class?”

Todoroki shook his head. “I never had one. I actually never even knew what it was until high school, I think.” 

“Really?” Your eyes widened. Sure, the hand-held game was marketed to girls, but to never have heard about it through your whole childhood? You weren’t sure how that was possible. “Not even your older sister had one?”

Now, you didn’t know much about his personal life (whether or not he was dating someone, if he slept on the left or the right side of the bed, which leg he put in his pants first, et cetera), but you did pick up on a few things about his siblings from the previous interactions you’ve had with him.

“Not to my knowledge,” he said, looking away thoughtfully. “My father never afforded us such luxuries.” 

You frowned. “What about toys like Pokemon? Oh! Or Yu-Gi-Oh cards?”

“Yu-Gi-Oh cards?” repeated Todoroki slowly, as if he was unsure what you were talking about.

Your jaw dropped in disbelief. “You never played--? Oh, never mind. How about family games like Twister or Just Dance?” 

As far as you were aware, Todoroki Shouto came from a rather affluent family. So it was a wonder why he never participated in at least one of these experiences that characterized a whole generation’s childhood.

Again, he shook his head. “Never did those either. I wasn’t exactly allowed to play with my siblings, let alone other kids my age. My father always made me prioritize my training.” 

“That’s not right of him.”

You winced. Of course he never had the opportunity to have a “normal” childhood. How could you be so insensitive? It was no secret Endeavor had a troubled relationship with his family, but you weren’t exactly sure to what extent. You didn’t focus much on the whimsical world of heroes and, ever since you were a child, you know you wanted to pursue the field of research rather than use your quirk. The lives of heroes--even top ranking ones--was something you never paid much attention to. Still, even you have heard some gossip about the estranged Endeavor. 

“Sorry for pressing you,” you said, toying with the hem of your shirt. “I didn’t mean to be so insensitive.”

He gave you a nonchalant shrug and a small smile to let you know it was okay.

“Don’t worry about it, Y/L/N. You didn’t mean to,” he comforted. “Besides, it’s been a long time. It would be useless to hold a grudge against my father for this long.”

You tilted your head to the side. “Forgiveness, huh? That’s very mature of you, Todoroki. I think I admire you.”

His shoulders moved upward in silent laughter. “Thank you. I admire you, too.” 

Ignoring the faint heat you felt in your cheeks, you beamed. “Thanks. Anyway-- You know what I just realized?”

“What?”

“You did not have a childhood.”

While his face remained passive, you could have sworn you saw his eye crinkle in amusement.

“I suppose I can’t argue with that,” he said in agreement. “My youth was spent quite differently than most.”

You nodded profusely. “Right. And while I don’t think there is anything inherently wrong with that, per se, it could be beneficial to do these things you haven’t had the chance to!”

He examined you curiously as you bounced up from your seat on the sofa with an excited grin. After a few moments of silence, he craned his neck, prompting you for clarification.

“You’re bored on lockdown, I’m bored on lockdown,” you stated matter-of-factly. “What better time to reclaim your childhood than now?”

Todoroki didn’t bother to hide the small smile making its way across his face at your determined words. “Okay, then. Count me in.”

- - - - -

When you decided you wanted to help your new friend Todoroki reclaim his childhood, you expected your days to be full of cute Beanie Babies and Webkinz, as well as the presumed amounts of chaos that followed edible bubbles and candy kits. And while the first few days of the week consisted of that, the tone changed rather drastically when a certain game was introduced. Of all things, what you expected least was to be practically panting on top of Shouto as you braced your muscles and tried not to collapse onto him.

“Left hand, blue,” he called after flicking the spinner. 

How he managed to turn the spinner with one hand and keep his body balanced with the other on a Twister mat without toppling over was a mystery to you.

Stupid heroes with their stupid, bulging muscles, you thought crossly as you relived your many previous losses. You tried to ignore the bead of sweat dripping down your face as you struggled to stay up. 

Somehow, you turned your head just enough that you had the perfect view of Todoroki’s flexed triceps as he held himself in a modified pushup position of sorts. There was a look of concentration on his face and, while you found his furrowed brows to be rather cute, you still couldn’t help but focus your attention on his arms. He had a lean type of muscle that you thought would feel especially comfortable wrapped around your waist-- 

“Y/L/N, do you forfeit?” 

You blinked, feeling lightheaded both from this game which you lacked the stamina for and from the lack of oxygen that travelled to your brain as you held your breath while staring at Todoroki. 

Once your mind processed his words, you huffed. “Forfeit! Me? Never! Why would you think that?”

“Because I called ‘left hand, blue,’ minutes ago and you still haven’t moved.” 

Blood rushed to your face and you were thankful you had the exertion to blame it on. It wasn’t your fault Todoroki’s arms were so toned and strong and...distracting.

“No,” you said, unsure if there was even a question asked for you to reply to. “I don’t quit!”

Your eyes scanned the mat feverishly, looking for a blue circle to place your left hand on that would cause the least amount of strain. Shouto had already won the first two rounds and you’d be damned if you were to let him win again. (As much as you loved witnessing him succeed, your pride would simply be too hurt if you lost a third time in a row.) 

“Find a spot yet?” he asked in amusement. “I’m not sure how much longer my arms can hold.”

Of course, just the mention of his arms drew your attention from finding the optimal Twister position to staring stupidly at his triceps again.

As you attempted to tear your gaze away from him, you spotted hints of a smirk lingering on Todoroki’s face.

Did he notice your staring? There was no way… 

You looked at him, wide-eyed and dubious, and almost choked when you saw his shoulders start to shake as he tried to hide his laughter.

His laugh was muffled by his shirt in an attempt to keep his volume down, but it still rang rich and deep in the air. It was the first time you heard him laugh like that and you wanted to do anything to hear it again. 

With a shake of his head, he removed his hands from their spot on the Twister board and sat upright beside you.

“I concede,” he said when he saw you eyeing him with curiosity. “You win this round. My arms were getting too sore.”

After hearing the sweet sound of Todoroki saying, “You win,” you let yourself collapse on the floor, rolling onto your back to get a clear view of your cream-colored ceiling.

“For some reason, I sincerely doubt that your arms were getting sore,” you said, stretching your own--genuinely sore--arms out in front of you. “But seeing as I was about to fall flat on my face if I waited any longer… Thank you for conceding.” 

“Doubt I’d be sore?” he repeated, craning his neck to peer down at your face. He placed his left hand on his right bicep and gently massaged it with his thumb and forefinger. “What for?” 

By then, whatever rational thought was left in your brain had been fully replaced by Shouto’s arms and Shouto’s arms only, and you couldn’t even complain. 

“Mmm, what did you say again?” You blinked, clearing your throat. You suddenly had the desire to chug a cool glass of water.

Todoroki’s only reply was another small--almost imperceptible--smirk. It would have been easy for someone to miss, but to you, someone who was perhaps being more attentive to their roommate and newfound friend than they’d care to admit, it was clear as day.  

“You’re totally messing with me!” you groaned, covering your face with your hands as you continued to lie with your back on the floor. “Aren’t you?”

He let out a breathy laugh and shrugged, the corners of his lips quirking upwards. “Sorry. It’s just cute seeing your reactions. I didn’t know you liked my arms so much.”

You could’ve sworn he flexed once more for dramatic effect and an indignant squeak escaped your mouth.

“I-I don’t!” you protested, making sure to look anywhere but his arms. “I just never noticed how...proportionate they were before! Just thinking about how da Vinci would admire them. For scientific purposes, of course.”

“Sure.” 

You gaped at the knowing look on his face. “How did you even notice? Aren’t you a bit of the oblivious type?” With wide eyes, you slapped your hand over your mouth. “Wait-- I’m sorry. That was rude to say.”

Todoroki waved it off with a smile to show he wasn’t offended in the slightest. “I guess I was rather oblivious in the beginning of high school. But as I grew up I became more accustomed to picking up on such things.” 

You hummed in silent contemplation. Of course he had to have grown used to people making moon eyes over him. He probably got it all the time.

“I usually pay it no mind,” he continued as he stood up, peering down at you sprawled out on the floor. “But when you do it, I find it sort of cute.” 

As if he didn’t just say something that caused your heart to skip a beat, Todoroki extended a hand out to help you up.

Ignoring the heat rushing to your cheeks, you gently placed your hand in his.

“Thanks,” you murmured as Shouto pulled you off the mat and towards his body, a feeling of lightheadedness overcoming you at the sudden motion.

One hand held yours while his other was placed firmly above your elbow to help you steady yourself.

“You okay, Y/L/N?” he asked, a hint of concern in his voice as he watched you regain your balance.

“Oh, yeah! No worries. This happens all the time, to be honest,” you admitted, vaguely taking note of how your chest was almost fully pressed against his. “Whenever I move my head too fast I get a bit dizzy. And whenever I stand too fast my knees sort of just crack.” 

Your words did nothing to soothe the worried furrow between his brows.

“Is...Is that not normal?” 

He blinked.

You grimaced. “Okay. Guess not. Maybe I need to work out more.” 

“You can work out indoors with me,” Todoroki suggested with a small smile. He looked so sincere you were just about to agree until he opened his mouth for a second time-- “As long as you don’t spend the whole workout gawking at my arms.”

With an indignant cry, you pulled yourself away from his loose grip, face burning with such intensity you wouldn’t be surprised if he were able to sense the rise in temperature. “I never gawked at your arms.” 

He hummed. 

“Well, okay, maybe I did,” you relented with a huff, bending down to fold up the game mat in front of you. “They look very strong. Being a hero must be hard work.”

Todoroki shrugged, helping you clean up. “It’s worth the toll it takes. I can imagine your research requires hard work too.” 

You tried to hide the look of surprise on your face. You briefly talked to him about what you did during the roommate-finding process, but you didn’t think it was anything interesting enough for him to recall. It brought an odd warmth to your stomach knowing he cared enough to remember. 

“I guess. But I’d say it’s nowhere near as difficult as hero work,” you brushed off. “Not everyone has what it takes to be a good hero.”

A faint blush colored his cheeks as he followed you into the kitchen for a glass of water.

“There are lots of great heroes,” he stated, filling up two cups and handing one to you. 

“Yeah, there are. And greatness is one thing, but you’re a good one-- In the heart.” Your gaze flitted to his, unsure why you were filled with the sudden urge to have such an intimate conversation after a game of Twister. Still, you rolled with it. “I know we haven’t talked much prior to this lockdown...but even I can tell how caring you are. And I’m looking forward to getting to know you more.” 

A comfortable silence filled the air as he took a seat beside you. If Shouto was taken aback by your sudden compliment, he did a good job at hiding it, simply giving you a small smile as he let his shoulder rest against yours. You glanced over at the point of contact and bubbled with elation. 

“Todoroki?” you called quietly, the edge of your pinky brushing against his. 

He looked down at the gentle touch of your hand and didn’t move away. Instead, he took the initiative and placed his fingers on top of yours, his hand surprisingly soft despite the calluses on his fingertips. The back of your neck heated at the sudden movement, but you decided you rather liked how his hands felt on yours. 

“Hmm?” 

“Thanks for letting me drag you along to play these childhood games,” you said, letting out a sigh of contentment. “It’s a nice change of pace while we’re stuck indoors.”

Shouto shook his head. “I should be the one thanking you. These are much better childhood memories than the ones from my actual childhood,” he admitted with a light laugh. “I’m glad we had the opportunity to spend more time together, Y/L/N.”

By now your fingers were intertwined with his, his thumb lightly stroking the peak of your knuckle.

He continued, “I hope this continues even when quarantine is over.” 

“I hope it does, too.” You couldn’t stop the grin from spreading wide across your face as you nuzzled your head on his shoulder. “Let’s keep making memories together, okay, Todoroki?”

“Happily.” 

[triptuckers]

New In Town (part five) - Kaz Brekker

Request: nope Pairing: Kaz Brekker x reader Summary: Kaz finds out who has been stealing from him Warnings:  language, mentions of fighting/violence but no blood Word count: 1.8K A/N: he is hereeee hehe PREVIOUS PART | NEXT PART TAG LIST (all grishaverse fics): @ayushmitadutta @mrs-brekker15@dancingwith-sunflowers @thegirlwiththeimpala @parker-natasha@story-scribbler@romanoffstarkovs@daliareads@meiitanoia @itsnotquimey@sanktaesperanza @whymyparentscheckmyphone @aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 @marlenaisnthappy @brekker-zenik @just-deka @graceknxwlson @the-very-tired-mess@whymyparentscheckmyphone@aleksanderwh0r3 @ilovemarvelanne1 TAG LIST (Kaz Brekker): @mufnasa @Janesofia7 @stairscortana @parker-natasha @illicitghosts @brick-by-brick553 TAG LIST (New In Town): @calums-betch add yourself to my tag lists here

After stealing a necklace and a crate full of jewellery, you developed a taste for sneaking around behind the Dregs' backs. This is not at all like your job back in Ravka, but you're getting the hang of it. A part of you prefers stealing for yourself over taking jobs from others.

At least this way, you get to be the one to make decisions. You get to decide wether or not to go through with a job, who you steal from and who gets hurt.

Back in Ravka, there had been a number of jobs that went wrong, and it mostly resulted into you fighting for your life. You won, but your opponent often wasn't so lucky. You'd hurt more people than you intended, but at least you got paid.

In Ketterdam, you had yet to fight someone to the death. You tried to avoid it. You stayed in the shadows, at a distance of the Barrel and its gangs.

As the weeks went by, you didn't have a lot of trouble. You listened in on Kaz' meetings with the others, and successfully stole four items they also had their eyes on. They still hadn't figured out it was you, and you took pride in that.

You occasionally ran into Jesper in the streets, but judging by the way he spoke to you, he still thought of you as a nice girl who was a bartender, and now worked at a cafe.

Only you didn't work at a cafe. But you trusted Jesper not to look further into it. You had the feeling he trusted you.

Given that you really like Jesper, you sometimes feel bad for sneaking around behind his back. But to see their confused faces when you outsmarted them again, was priceless.

And you didn't take all of it, anyway. You only sabotaged the jobs you wanted. Some jobs required more than one person, so you couldn't interfere with those. And you didn't want to take everything from them, just enough for you.

You got better at climbing buildings and jumping from roof to roof. You taught yourself how to pick a lock after you watched Kaz do it from a distance. It took you a few tries, but eventually, you got it right.

After spending so much time in Ketterdam, you started to feel at home. You didn't really have a lot of friends besides the people that lived in the same building as you.

Sometimes you wanted to tell Jesper all of it when you saw him in the streets. But you had quickly changed your mind when you saw them caught in a fight with a rival gang, and you saw they all knew how to fight. You didn't think they'd be too happy to find out you had been stealing from them.

So Ketterdam was nice, but also kind of lonely. In Ravka, you had a few friends. They didn't know what you did for a living, but they didn't seem to care. Everyone kept secrets.

You thought no one knew of your life in Ravka, so you were surprised when you heard a new name whispered on the streets of Ketterdam.

It was a name you hadn't heard in a long time. In Ravka, there had been whispers of a thief that worked so well, no one knew who they were. The Ravkans claimed the thief moved so swiftly, they became one with the shadows.

Without even knowing they were talking about you, one of your friends had once excitedly whispered to you about the so called shadow thief.

Though you hated the name, you were also a bit flattered they even gave you one. It meant you did your job good. And it also meant they hadn't discovered your identity yet.

You figured the people of Ketterdam had no way of finding out you are the thief they talk about. After all, the name was spoken for the first time weeks after you arrived. No one would be able to tell it was you.

You're walking down the streets, on your way back to your apartment. When you first got to the city, you didn't dare walk through the Barrel. But now that you've been there for a while and know the streets pretty well, you decide to take a shortcut.

Even if some drunk gang member would approach you, you had your weapons. As well as the escape routes you could take. All you had to do was climb up a building with a fire escape, and you'd be able to get away.

It's dark outside, but it doesn't scare you. You're listening to the sounds around you because even though you're familiar with the streets, it's still the Barrel. And you're still a girl walking home alone.

Your hand is on your knife that's hidden away in your coat pocket. It's only a little further to your apartment. Suddenly you get an uneasy feeling in your stomach and listen carefully for any sounds you might hear.

The most important lesson you learned was to trust your instincts. And right now, they are telling you you're being followed. You keep walking, pretending you haven't noticed them.

When you walk around a corner, you pull your knife out of your pocket. But before you can turn around and push the knife against their throat, something hard hits you behind your knees, knocking you to the ground.

You groan as you fall to the floor but are up again in seconds. It's dark, and you can't see who your opponent is. You dodge a second swing of a long object, and dart forward, ready to punch your attacker.

They raise their weapon to swing at you again, but you are quick to grab it and give it a hard pull, yanking it from their hand.

It catches them off guard. They stumble and you notice the way they clutch one of their legs. You raise the weapon - which you realise is a cane - and glare at your attacker.

'Give me a reason and I'll fucking crush your skull with your own cane.' you say. 'And I'm warning you, don't fucking test my patience.'

To your surprise, they chuckle lightly at your words.

'You won't do that. Because you won't get paid for that. No bodies if there is no payment.' says a raspy voice.

'What the fuck are you talking about?' you say.

'I'm talking about what you used to do for a living in Ravka, shadow thief.' he says. 'Mostly stealing, but sometimes things didn't go the way you wanted. If someone died, you demanded extra payment. Collateral damage.'

'I don't know what you're talking about.' you say, hoping you sound confident. 'If you're after my money you can piss off because I don't have anything on me and I don't intent on inviting you into my home. So get lost.'

You can see he wants to say something. You toss the cane toward him, it hits him in the stomach and he doubles over, gasping for breath.

'I wonder who you are without that cane to swing at people's knees, Brekker.' you say.

It didn't take long for you to figure out who it was. Only one person in Ketterdam walked around with such a recognisable cane. Kaz Brekker, Dirtyhands, the one who had been planning all of your jobs for you.

'So you know who I am.' he says.

'Everyone in Ketterdam does.' you say.

'But not everyone in Ketterdam knows who you are.' says Kaz. 'You did quite a good job at keeping your identity hidden. Jesper tells me you work at a cafe, but every time I walk by, you're not there.'

You narrow your eyes at him. 'What do you want?' you say.

'I want you to know I know who you are, I see you. I know of all the jobs you did back in Ravka, I know your reputation. Now I am the only one who knows you are the shadow thief people whisper about. Imagine what I could do with that information.' says Kaz.

You're silent as you listen to him. Was he really going to threaten you?

'I could sell that information to the highest bidder. I'm sure there are people in Ravka who lost a lot because of you. They'd be happy to know who you are.' says Kaz.

'Be my guest.' you say. 'I can handle it. If all you wanted to do was to threaten me, I think I'll go now.'

'One more thing.' says Kaz. 'Why do my jobs for me? And don't deny it, I know it's you.'

You shrug. 'It's easy.' you say honestly. 'You plan it out, you do the hard work, all I have to do is make sure I arrive before you do.'

'But now I know it's you, I can take precautions against you.' says Kaz.

'Can you, though?' you say with a mischievous smile. 'You don't know how I get the information.'

You step closer to him, still smiling. 'I look forward to seeing what kind of precautions you're going to take. We'll see if they can really stop me, Brekker.' you say.

You step back again. 'Next time, if you want to talk, just knock on my front door. I'm sure it's easy for you to follow me to my apartment. I'll have fresh coffee ready for you and we can talk like civilised human beings.' you say and you turn around and start to walk away.

'Except for we're not civilised human beings, shadow thief.' you hear Kaz say as you walk away.

You smile to yourself as you keep on walking. You didn't know what Kaz thought he could do to stop you. If you are right, he didn't know how you got the information on his jobs.

He'd have to be patient, like you. You didn't know just how much he knows about you. He knows of your past, he knows you steal from him, maybe he'd guessed at your skills.

You'd have to be careful. He'd try to make sure you won't do his jobs for him anymore. And you have the feeling he knows very well how to play dirty.

But two can play that game.

A/N: If you want to request something, make sure to read my house rules Here’s the list of characters I write for. Everything that I have written can be found on my masterlist. Please don’t repost my work, as I spend much time and effort on it!! Thank you for reading! Much love, Marit

[marsbutterfly]

Skyfall

Summary: When you are hired to kill the most dangerous mafia boss, things get a little complicated.

Wattpad Version! | AO3 Version!

|◁ II ▷|

“This is the end

Hold your breath and count to ten

Feel the Earth move and then

Hear my heart burst again”

7:34pm

The clock on your wrist tics quietly but in the silent room, it nearly sounds like bombs being dropped from above. Not a word is exchanged between you and the man sitting across the room but you know exactly what he wants.

In his hand rests a dark colored suitcase, you can barely tell until the light hits his belt ever so gently but you finally see the gun he’s been carrying.

You take a deep breath, getting up for your seat. The sound of your heels clicking on the floor fills the atmosphere as you walk towards him, the smirk on his lips is undeniable and you don’t understand what he has to be smiling about.

He stands up a second after you and walks in your direction, bumping against you and dropping his suitcase and the papers in his hand. In response, you throw on the floor the suitcase you once held. 

The man apologizes profoundly as you help him collect the papers on the floor. You say over and over that it is ok, while all the curious eyes in the room land on you. As you stand up, you hand him the suitcase you once had in your hand and he nods, thanking you for the help and apologizing one last time.

You begin to make your way back to your car, the smirk on his lips still engraved in your brain as a chill travels down your spine. “Why was he smiling?” You ask yourself not wanting to admit it but you are a bit scared of knowing the answer.

Though once you open the suitcase, you understand why. Inside, rests the pictures and information of your next target, the millionaire leader of an enemy gang. Though you don’t enjoy taking sides, you’ve been paid a large amount of money to take her out, more than you have ever made.

The war between these two gangs has been going on for the longest time and you have killed enough people on both sides to earn a fair amount of enemies, but this time you couldn’t help but feel a sinking hole opening in your heart.

Hanji Zoe has always been the deadliest member of the underground group. Her kill count is even higher than yours, at least 500+ heads under her belt. They say her torture methods surpass even the ones they use in hell.

She’s known as the Devil herself.

“For this is the end

I've drowned and dreamt this moment

So overdue, I owe them

Swept away, I'm stolen”

8:15pm

Your keys unlock the heavy doors of your house and somehow the marble floors feel colder than ever. Your shoes rest in their designated spot by the coat holder and you throw the suitcase on the couch.

Two cups rest on the counter near the bar area inside your home. One of them contains what you assume is whisky, due to the color and the amount of ice in the cup, it has always been her favorite after a work day.

The lipstick marks are fresh meaning she has just now gotten home. Upon paying closer attention, you realize the shower is on and steam is coming out of the bathroom. You think about joining her but ultimately decide to have a drink first, trying to forget about your next target.

Gently, you take two rocks of ice and place them in the clean cup specifically placed out for you. Pouring yourself a single shot of whisky, you walk towards the balcony feeling as the cold air of the night hits your face.

You knew this day would come but you hoped it would take longer. 

Deep in your own thoughts, you don’t realize the water has been turned off in the bathroom and wet footsteps approach your body.

It’s not until her wet arms wrap around your black dress that you realize you are no longer alone. Her face is buried in your back and you can see steam leaving her arms as the hair on her skin stands up.

The tattoo of your initials on her hand still brings butterflies to your stomach. The memory of the night she got it is still one of your favorite moments you spent together, especially since it was after your first date and she told you she knew you were the one.

“I missed you.” She says, placing a kiss on your skin. You can feel as her breasts are pressed against you and a gasp leaves your body.

“I missed you too.” You reply, a disobedient tear rolling down your face as you chug the contents of the cup in your hand.

“What’s wrong?” She asks, placing her hand on your waist as she turns your body around so you can face her. She is a few inches taller, nothing too extreme but enough to make you look up at her gently.

Her thumb brushes the tear on your cheek before rubbing it above your lips. You take a deep breath, gathering the courage to tell her the news you just received.

“You are my next target.” You say and Hanji nods, a sad smirk on her lips.

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together” 

9:00pm

The brush goes through her hair with ease for the first time, as if she took care of the tangles in the shower already knowing what the news you were bringing would be. After shower moments were the ones where Hanji was the most vulnerable.

She would simply close her eyes and appreciate the attention she’s been given as she fades in the echo of your voice. You hum a melody quietly, Hanji’s favorite song in the hopes to bring her any comfort at all.

Your tears drip down your nose onto her scalp as you put her hair in a ponytail, attempting to help her get ready for the party she will be attending in an hour. At the highest floor of the second tallest building in the entire city.

“How are you going to do it?” She asks, lighting a cigarette and blowing the smoke up in the air while trying to make rings out of it. You giggle, touching her shoulders before sliding your hands down her arms.

You notice the goosebumps rising on her skin and can’t help but smile at how she reacts to your touch. “Must we talk about it?”

“I need to know.” She replies and you nod, sighing heavily while finally agreeing to talk about the elephant in the room.

“I’ll be on the roof of the Paradise building. I am pretty sure they will send someone to watch me do it.” You begin, spraying the bottle of perfume around her and noticing as the drops of liquid fall on her tan skin, masking the smell of the cigarette.

“But they might not.” She says and you shrug your shoulders.

“They might not.” You say quietly.

“I wouldn’t expect any less from this city’s top 1 assassin.” She says, taking your hand in hers and planting a soft kiss on your palm, leaving behind the red mark of her deep colored lipstick.

She stands up, allowing the robe to fall to the floor and reveal her naked body. You can’t look away from the perfect shape of her breasts, the line that goes through her abdomen from a previous surgery and all of her battle scars.

“Make me yours one last time.” You say, pulling your shirt above her head as you expose yourself to her and she nods, a devious smile curling up on her lips.

You see a few old bullet wounds, some healed while others are still healing. Every single one of them tells a story about who she is and how she has lived her life but your favorite story has always been the one of how she lost her eye.

It was three years ago, the day you met. How could you ever forget?

“Let the sky fall

When it crumbles

We will stand tall

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

Since you were a teenager, you’ve been good at killing. First your shitty parents and every family member who sided with them, including your own brother and sister. Finally being able to control your life, you decided to make a living out of it.

This career put you through college where you earned a chemistry degree, learning how to mix your personal kinds of poison, some of which no one has ever even heard of which makes it hard for the police to find who was responsible for it.

At first, you would go for basic targets: rapists, animal abusers, anyone who dared hurt another soul but word got out of how excellent and quick you were at your job and your number of clients tripled and your name was in everyone’s mouth.

One day, you got a call from a blocked russian number. A smile creeped on your lips as you heard a familiar voice over the phone, Erwin Smith. The man who gave you a chance to grow in this life and made you who you are today, your mentor.

“Y/N, I’m dying.” He says, his voice is faint and you notice his life force is fading away. 

“I can tell.” You reply trying to lighten the mood and he laughs.

“Will you still work for the next boss?” He asks, coughing out a liquid which you could only assume was blood. 

“If that is your dying wish.” You respond and he hums in agreement over the phone, “Then yes.”

Later that week, two men showed up to your house to escort you to Erwin’s funeral. The rain poured over his coffin, hiding away the tears of those who loved him.

Surrounded by at least five men sat a woman in a black coat, her eyes looking in your direction as she took the cigarette to her lips. The tattoos on her leg on display for anyone to see, you could’ve sworn she was silently flirting with you.

And in a moment of weakness, a car drove by shooting up the place completely. Of course they were received with a buffet of bullets as well, but nearly a third of the people around the casket were now dead.

As a bullet makes its way towards you, the brunette with danger in her eyes rushes forward to protect you only to receive the bullet with a glass platter. Needless to say, an uncountable amount of shards found their way into her eyeball.

While she bled in your arms, you tried to make sure she remained awake.

“What’s your name?” You ask and she smiles, bringing your hand towards her lips and licking your thumb with a palpable sexual energy.

“Hanji. Hanji Zoe.” She replied, “The new boss.”

“Skyfall is where we start

A thousand miles and poles apart

Where worlds collide and days are dark

You may have my number, you can take my name

But you'll never have my heart”

10:05pm

Once you are finished redoing Hanji’s hair, she stares at the closet before finally picking out a blood colored suit. No shirt underneath, she places the blazer right above her nipples, only enough to cover them while allowing the rest of her breasts to be exposed.

You on the other hand plan to dress yourself in a completely black outfit hoping to blend into the darkness of the night. Luck was on your side for there were no stars to brighten the sky, allowing you to take complete cover.

As far as you know, nobody is aware of your relationship with Hanji, not even her subordinates. Keeping business away from your private life has always been a priority, even before you committed your first paid killing.

She places a final kiss on your hands and one of your lips, though it does not feel like a goodbye and you sadly accept any kind of comfort you can find.

When her car is out of view, you decide to go up and take a shower by yourself. You wanted to decline this job, to throw everything away: your reputation, the money and simply run away with Hanji to a place where you could live your lives.

But you can’t. Before even knowing who your targets are, you are always made to sign a consent form and if broken, it would cost you your life.

The warm water hits your face and you can still smell Hanji’s strawberry shampoo in the air mixed with the fading smoke of her cigarettes. You begin to remember every shower you spent together, every kiss you shared at the most exquisite places around the world.

Hanji always knew how to make you feel like the luckiest girl in the world. Eventually, you can no longer if the water streaming down your face comes from the shower or your tears.

As you finish your shower, you begin to get ready. The black outfit had never been colder and the unsettling feeling at the pit of your stomach still remains. While putting a mask above your face, you look at your rifle.

It has your initials and Hanji’s secretly carved on the side and on the other it has the date you started dating. A good luck charm, as she liked to call it.

Tonight will be a fucking awful night.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

1:53am

Hours have passed since you've been sitting at the top of this building by yourself, looking through the binoculars at the party happening not too far away.  In the end, they decided not to send anyone to watch over your shoulder as you do your job.

The richest and most powerful people in town were all attending and, even though they wore masks, you could still tell exactly who they were. The years of analyzing and recognizing targets from afar has given you the extraordinary ability to identify covered faces.

By the bar, you see her as she rests her arm on the glass top. She looks beautiful. Her whiskey brown eyes match the liquid in her cup as the black mask covers her features. For a second, you could’ve sworn she looked directly at you.

The instructions were clear: at 2am, a single bullet should be shot directly to her head, killing her instantly. So you position your gun, looking through the lense as Hanji disappears in the crowd for a bit before returning to her usual spot.

You sigh, stopping the tears that attempt to cloud your vision. Your finger slowly moves towards the trigger, as if time itself is desperately trying to stop you from killing your loved one, but it doesn’t matter. No one could stop you now.

Counting the seconds, you make sure the shot to her head is clear and you pray she won’t suffer at all. “Goodbye, my love.”

Time nearly stops once you pull the trigger. You watch closely as the bullet goes through her brain and blood splatters across the clear counter causing every person in the room to desperately run for their lives, not knowing they are all safe.

Only one man stands in the room and he raises his glass at you for he is the only one who knows no more shots will be fired. The asshole who hired you to kill the love of your life. Fucking Zeke Yeager.

With every ounce of your body, you decide that killing him isn’t worth it. He deserves to live to suffer in the future.

You bring your body back up, beginning to disassemble your rifle. It takes you less than a minute to be on your way and you can hear as police sirens approach the building in front of you.

“Where you go, I go

What you see, I see

I know I'd never be me

Without the security

Of your loving arms

Keeping me from harm

Put your hand in my hand

And we'll stand”

Finally getting back to your house, you throw the bag containing the gun on the couch before plopping your body right beside it, a long sigh escaping your lips.

Your eyes then notice the packed bags, all ready to leave as soon as possible. The clicking of heels comes from the other side of the house and you smirk, rushing your thumb through your lips.

“I feel bad for the lady you hired to die in your place.” You say, turning around and propping your chin on the back of the couch.

“Would you prefer if I had died in her place?” Hanji asks, rushing her hand through her freshly shaved head in an attempt to get rid of any hairs that still remain attached to her.

“Of course not, love.” You reply, walking towards her before taking the glass of wine from her free hand.

“Hanji Zoe is dead and the witness to it is Zeke Yeager himself.” She says, a devious smile on her lips.

You can’t help but link your mouth with hers, tasting the delightful mixture of alcohols she has had tonight. Her hands travel through your body, exploring every inch of your skin before gently brushing against your inner thigh.

You gasp gently, nearly melting in response to her actions. God knows you want to melt but you don’t have time.

“It’s 4:25am, the plane leaves in 35 minutes so we should go.” She says and you nod.

You grab one of the packed bags plus your rifle and she grabs the rest before extending her hand to you, hoping to walk away from this life with you by her side but not before staging your own kidnapping and death, everything so no one would ever look for either of you.

Once done with arrangements, she smiles. 

“So where are we going to make our new home?” You ask.

“My home is wherever you are.” She replies and you feel your cheeks getting warm before she continues, “But I was planning the Carribeans.” 

“Fuck yes.” Is all you say and she laughs, squeezing your hand as you both say goodbye to the apartment you’ve shared for years. Leaving behind a life of danger to live together in the house of your dreams, far away from all the negativity.

Just you and Hanji. And maybe a few cats and dogs along the way.

“Let the sky fall (let the sky fall)

When it crumbles (when it crumbles)

We will stand tall (we will stand tall)

Face it all together

At Skyfall”

[mystic-deep]

“You don’t know how to beg, darling.” | Nanami Kento x fem!reader

♡ ♡ ♡ description: Married life is never easy, but you and Nanami always made it work. How could a little text cause the end of it all?

♡ ♡ ♡ warnings: cheating, swearing, nsfw, rough kissing, fingering;

♡ ♡ ♡ notes: this will be a two-part story if people find the first part interesting enough. guess I was craving a bit of heartache from our favorite ex-salaryman haha. it's not proofread so please show mercy.

♡ ♡ ♡ word count: 2.7k

“God I hate this fucking job.”

With your face buried in your hands, you muttered to yourself in the almost empty cafe. That’s how it all started, with a very honest complaint, followed quickly by “I wish I was at the beach”, to which you received a small chuckle. With tired eyes, you looked to your right to the man that, unknowing to you at that time, would become your husband.

“You too, huh?”

That’s all it took, just an acknowledgment that you weren’t the only one suffering at the hands of capitalism, and you were instantly attracted to this handsome and somewhat intimidating man that was offering you a sympathetic smile.

Two hours later, with your opened laptops now completely forgotten, and a constant order of caffeine drinks, you both came to the conclusion that you enjoyed each other’s presence, thus deciding to meet up again the following day. Then the day after that and then the day after that, until about a week later, when Nanami asked you out on a proper date. About three months in your new relationship, you moved in together and about half a year later, you were married.

A match made in heaven, that’s what you two were. It was plain for everyone to see how good you were together. You both enjoyed similar things, you were both foodies, you were successful in your respective careers, even in terms of looks you would catch envious glances as you both walked down the street hand in hand.

You never had a fight, you never argued - it was always a well-balanced relationship. You were a team and you both worked hard for the same goal, to leave your well paid jobs and bustling city for the quiet and relaxing beaches of Malaysia.

It wasn’t always easy, sacrifices had to be made, and there were times when you both arrived home so overworked that you would collapse on top of each other, not even bothering to take off your clothes. It was worth it though, or at least it would be once you were in your little house by the beach where you wouldn’t have to worry about your boss or clients calling you, where there were no deadlines or targets to be reached. Only the sun, the waves, a cocktail and a good book and who knows, maybe even children.

Yes, a proper plan for a proper future and everything was going great, until your husband had forgotten to turn off his phone and left it on the kitchen island. Your hand reached for it on instinct when it made a little buzz, thinking it was probably nothing more than a notification or a message from a client.

“Thank you for the gift, daddy! Can’t wait to show you how good it looks on me!” That was the message, quickly followed by a few kisses and then the screen went black.

The towel that you were using to dry your hair had fallen to your shoulders as you gripped his phone and stared at it in disbelief. Nanami was in the shower, you both arrived at the same time and he was gentleman enough to let you go in first. He was probably texting this person when he heard you turn off the water, and most likely forgot to close the phone.

You knew what this meant, you didn’t want to admit it but there had been signs going back to a few months ago. Date nights that were abruptly cancelled, a new expensive car even though you both had promised to cut back on your expenses, the fact that he barely touched you even on days when you were both free.

It’s not that you were dumb, far from it, but you were so in love. You were so in love with the man that had been your husband for four years now, you were so in love with the idea of a future with him - where you could get to enjoy your lives and build a proper family. That love made you blind, even now with clear evidence in front of you, the idea that Nanami was cheating on you just seemed so surreal.

What exactly had happened? What happened to the two of you that were so perfect for each other? What happened to the man who couldn’t keep his hands off of you, the one that had fucked you silly on every piece of furniture when you first bought your expensive penthouse? What happened to showering together in the morning because you didn’t want to part even for five minutes? To waking up to the smell of fresh coffee and pancakes on weekends, to holdings hands while whispering to each other in quiet cafes, to all those little moments that you treasured so much - and that you were now questioning if you’d ever get to experience them again.

All the love and care that he had for you was now being directed to another. You had lost a battle that you didn’t even know you were fighting, and the outcome was a tragic heartbreak.

That night, curled into a ball on your side of the bed, you sobbed quietly to yourself while your husband was sleeping. With trembling hands you clutched the bed sheet, your tears wetting the pillow case. You knew that there was no way for Nanami not to hear your little whimpers or feel how your body was trembling, but he made no movement. He said nothing and you said nothing and the silence fell between you heavier than a cover made of lead.

It was after a month, and the work of a private investigator, that you gathered your courage to confront your husband about his affair. As he sat at the kitchen table, lazily drinking his coffee and reading the newspaper on a Saturday morning, you handed him a folded paper.

“Sign here.”

He looked at you from behind his reading glasses and arched a brow at the piece of paper that was handed to him. He folded the Financial Times neatly and placed the paper on the table before turning his attention to the document. It must have been a complete shock to him, because he just stared at the divorce papers for several seconds before he finally made a sound.

“What...what the hell is this?” He got up from his chair, eyes narrowing at you in a threatening way.

“Divorce papers. I thought you were smart enough to read.”

“Have you lost your fucking mind?” His voice was shacking, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the papers in his hand.

“I thought there was no need to involve lawyers since we signed a prenuptial. Let’s finish this quickly, like removing a band aid.”

“Why? Why would you want a divorce?”

You had been calm up until that moment. You thought to yourself that you had cried until your tears had dried up and you had screamed until you’ve lost your voice and that all there was left to do now was to end it quickly and be done with it.

Oh but no, Nanami Kento wouldn’t let you leave without hurting you one last time. He wanted you to say it- he wanted to see the damage and pain he had caused.

“Because you’ve change! Because I don’t recognize the man that I’ve married! Because you’ve stopped loving and respecting me! Because you’re fucking a god damn college student! A little whore that has been riding your dick in hotel rooms and empty parking lots for a designer bag!”

Your face went bright red as you shouted your accusations, feeling the pain of the first discovery washing over you once more.

“This isn’t what-”

“This isn’t what? What lie do you plan on telling me? That she’s some poor relative and you’re just such a good Samaritan that you had to help her out? Tell me, how many of your family members call you ‘daddy’?”

Nanami’s hand slammed the kitchen table with such force that it made all the cutlery and dishes to jump up. He took off his glasses and angrily placed them in the pocket of his sweatpants. With just a few steps he had you trapped between the wall and his strong chest, his large hand gripping your chin.

“Why can’t you be quite for once? Why can’t you just shut the hell up and listen!” You’ve never heard Nanami raise his voice at anyone before let alone you. Sure, he could be extremely intimidating when he wanted to, but he always considered it was classless to scream. The anger flashing in his eyes and the grip on your chin were clear signs that he had lost whatever composure he had left and that a storm was coming.

As though sensing that you wanted to open your mouth and protest, he smashed his lips against yours and bit with savagery on your bottom lip. You let out a whimper and he took full advantage of that to slide his tongue inside your month. He kissed you like he had never kissed you before and it made your head spin. It was so rough, so primal - it almost felt like he was trying to eat you.

Your hands landed on his shoulders and began to grip his shirt like your life was depending on it. You were losing -you were losing your mind to this intense feeling that was building in your stomach. There had always been passion between the two of you but nothing close to this raging fire that was threatening to consume you.

When he finally pulled away, your head felt light from the lack of oxygen and your eyes looked at him in a dazed way. Smirking, clearly enjoying the fact that he still had such a strong effect on you, he began to part your legs with one of his knees, his right hand finding its way in your loose curls. He pulled on your hair harshly before his mouth went to attack your neck.

“You always get to decide, don’t you darling?” He let his teeth sink into the soft flesh, chuckling when you let out a little squeak. “Let’s start dating, Kento. Let’s move in together, Kento. Let’s get married, Kento. I don’t want to be married anymore so let’s get divorced, Kento.” Each word that was rolling out of his mouth contained so much bitterness and it stabbed you straight in the heart.

“Even my fucking dream, you couldn’t even let me have that. Oh no, you just had to make it yours.” You were so caught up in the hurtful things he was saying that you hadn’t noticed his hand travelling to the waistband of your shorts until he started rubbing your clit through the thin fabric of your panties.

“Kento...oh, Kento, please!”  Please what? You didn’t even know what you were asking for. – ‘Please stop saying such horrible things, you’re breaking my heart. Please don’t make it sound like I’ve stolen your dream away from you. Please touch me more, touch me and remember how much we used to love each other.’

“You don’t know how to beg, darling.” His long fingers pushed the panties to the side before skilfully playing with your folds. “Ah, so wet for me already. You’re really hoping to get fucked, huh?” Without much trouble, he pushed two fingers inside your tight hole and began to pump them in a slow rhythm while his thumb pressed against your clit. His other hand cupped your breast before pressing his palm on your swollen nipple, his mouth returning to devouring your neck.

You were so close, with your back pressed on the wall behind you, you were so close to climaxing that every hair on your body was standing up. Then, just as abruptly as it started, Nanami retrieved both his hands and took a step back, enjoying your dishevelled state.

His rough hands landed on your shoulders and he pushed you gently on your knees, your face just inches away from the growing tent in his pants. “All you have to do is ask, darling. All you have to do is beg me to fuck you and maybe I’ll be generous. Tell me what you want.”

At this point you were ready to break. It had been too much - your heart just couldn’t take it anymore. It was hurtful enough to realize that your husband had fallen out of love with you but to find out that he never loved you to begin with? It felt like the whole world would come crumbling down.

Now you stood there, on your knees, looking up at the man who wanted to take everything from you, wondering what should you do. It would be so easy, just to beg like he had asked and let him bend you, let him break you. You would become just like that poor little girl he was fucking for fun, disposable the second he got bored with you. No matter what you chose, you couldn’t go back to the way you were. The life that you thought you two had planned together would never come to be.

With that thought in mind and whatever strength you had left, you pushed yourself up, propping your back on the wall. “I need you-” You looked straight into his eyes as the next words left your mouth. “-to sign the fucking divorce papers.”

His fist hit the wall next to your head with such force that your heart stopped beating. There was a small part of you that knew, even if he hated you, Nanami would never raise his hand to hurt you.

Looking up to meet his frightening expression, you held your ground knowing that there was no turning back at this point. He said nothing more - he threw you one last angry glance before storming to your shared bedroom. He emerged minutes later, completely dressed, fished his car keys and his wallet and he was out the door. You knew exactly where he was going but at this point you didn’t care anymore.

With trembling feet you wobbled to the bedroom and began to pull out the suitcases and boxes that you had prepared in advance. You had rented a small apartment, a far cry from your luxurious penthouse, but it was close to your office and you couldn’t afford to throw money aimlessly at this point.

As you threw your belongings in the suitcases, you made sure to leave behind every single gift he had ever given you. You didn’t need his coats, his jewels, his watches, his bags or shoes. Everything that you wanted he was no longer willing to give you and so you left only with what you had bought yourself.

He could keep the penthouse too, his little mistress will probably be thrilled to finally move in the expensive apartment complex and be showered with gifts without having to worry that the evil wife will catch them. That is until some new little thing would come along and she will be tossed to the side and forgotten. Nanami might have indicated that he had never loved you, but you were also sure he didn’t love this girl either.

As your packing was nearly completed, you looked at the photo album left on the bed, wondering what to do with it. You knew that if you left it there it would quickly find its way to the trash, and even though it hurt to remember, it hurt more to think such memories would be discarded with such ease.

You picked it up and when you did, a small flyer fell from between its pages. You picked it up from the floor and stared at the words “WELCOME TO MALAYSIA!” written in bold colours on the pamphlet. You had it ever since you went to the travel expo a year ago, a little glimpse to what was to come, but you guessed you didn’t need it anymore.

As you moved to throw it in the trash bin, you suddenly stopped. His dream, his dream, the words just kept coming back to you. No, this was your dream as well! This is what you worked for so hard every day! This was what you’ve postponed having kids for! This was all the birthdays and parties that you couldn’t attend because you were working overtime. This was all the money you stopped yourself from spending on little goods that made you happy. He could have the penthouse, he could have his luxury brands, he could have to expensive car and hell, he could even have his happily ever after. However, he would not claim your dream and stop you from achieving it.

You carried all the boxes and suitcases to your car and got in, already forming a plan and how you could move to the sunny beaches of Malaysia in just a few months. As you drove away from the apartment complex, your phone let out a little buzz. Stopping at the stoplight, you checked your messages and saw that Nanami had texted you.

‘I’m on my way home, let’s have a proper talk.’ A few seconds later, another text. ‘We can work this through, you know I didn’t mean everything I’ve said.’ You scoffed and stared angrily at the screen. ‘Wherever you’re going, that’s no longer my home.’ You texted back quickly before the light went green. ‘Tell me when you’ve finished signing the papers and I’ll tell you where to send them.’ You threw your phone on the empty seat as the last massage you’d ever write Nanami was being sent. ‘I will never beg, I will never bend and you will never break me.’

[cranetreegang]

The Hardest Things are the Honest Truths: Lucio x FemApprentice

A/N: So, I love Lucio. I don't know why, but I just do. I wish there were more scenes of him reflecting on his past though. So that's what this is. Just a brief roast session with some fluff afterwards. RIP my poor baby boy... but he gotta hear it. I have some more parts for Lucio that I'll hopefully post soon. I've also been working on a Julian piece that I'm really excited to share soon! Anyways, any feedback is always welcomed!

Summary: The Apprentice, Evie, wonders if she made a mistake binding herself to Lucio. She hopes that her faith in him isn't misguided, and seeks consul from those who knew him.

Word Count: 2300

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I watched Lucio play with his two dogs with a hint of a smile. Seeing him like this almost made the earlier fiasco seem misplaced. The look of disappointment in Asra’s eyes was not something I could shake off though. Had I really made such a grievous error in binding myself to Lucio?

“You seem troubled.” Nadia had managed to stand next to me without me noticing. I hid my surprise well and I nodded quickly.

“There’s a lot about magic I’m still learning. I think today just proved it.” I said.

“Mistakes happen. Although, this mistake was a fairly large one.” She smirked.

I let out a defeated sigh. “Indeed it is.” I agreed.

She frowned then turned around to leave. “I recommend the bath house. It might serve you well to help clear your head.” Nadia said over her shoulder as she left.

It didn’t take a genius to get the hint. Lucio, still distracted with his dogs, didn’t notice Nadia and I’s exchange. I bit my lip on whether to let him know I would need some time alone. I figured he wouldn’t care, so I headed towards the bath house.

I got to the marble room and was taken aback by its grandiose. The room had pillars at the far edge that overlooked the city below. The sun was beginning to set, giving the steaming waters a warm evening glow. Smells of lavender and incense filled the air and I felt my shoulders begin to drop. A bath was a good idea after all.

I stripped myself of my clothes and sank below the warm waters. I emerged with a relieved sigh. I went back under the waters then emerged once more. I faced back towards the entrance and froze at the sight of Lucio.

I dove under to hide my bare self. “What’re you doing here?” I hissed.

Lucio gave a dazzling smile that I was sure won over his fair share of enemies. “I was wondering where you went. I got worried.” He said; seemingly genuine.

“So, you thought it best to just watch me as I bathed?” I grimaced.

“What? No! I only just arrived. I swear.” He had his hands up covering his eyes, but he lowered them with a smirk. “I mean, it’s not like you have anything to be embarrassed about. You have a very... ,” he paused, his glowing eyes dancing with want, “beautiful body.”

I felt the heat of his words overcome the warmth of the waters. Before I could say anything, the doors opened.

“Evie!” Portia greeted with a beaming smile. She walked past where Lucio stood. I wasn’t sure how to warn Portia of Lucio’s presence. She didn’t give me room to talk as she launched into a story about her day and began to undress. She joined me in the bath and sat across from me.

I nodded along with her story, but would steal glances towards Lucio, who seemed content with sitting at the bath’s edge. His feet kicking in the water absentmindedly.

“And then they expect me to clean it all up! It’s outrageous.” Portia huffed.

“Couldn’t agree more.” I debated about leaving when the door opened once more and Nadia strolled in. Even in the steaming waters, my body had gone cold. She spared Portia and I a raised brow.

“I’m to assume the Count isn’t here?” Her question had an edge that made me inwardly flinch. Lucio was shaking his head while mouthing, ‘Don’t say I’m here.’, as if anyone but me could hear him.

“The Count? As in, Count Lucio?” Portia wondered.

I spared her an awkward smile. “You and I both had a long day.” I bit my tongue for a moment. If I say he’s here, then Portia would be upset with me. If I lie, then that could be even worse. “I don’t see Lucio here in the bath with us.” A semi-lie, but better than the truth. He technically wasn’t in the bath with us. Lucio gave me a pleased grin, which I tried to ignore.

Nadia nodded before disrobing. She held herself regally and effortlessly as she glided into the bath. I was envious of her ability to be noble in practically any setting. Lucio’s eyes were eagerly trailing after her. His hand reached out to touch her, but he resisted at the last moment.

“I’m glad to see you’re taking full use of the bath house, Evelyn.” Nadia sat between Portia and I. She swirled her white wine in a glass that probably cost more than anything I had ever owned.

“It’s quite nice. Very relaxing.” I hummed. At least it would be relaxing, if Lucio wasn’t hovering around us.

“So, what’s this about Count Lucio? What’s going on?” Portia inquired.

Nadia smirked as she rolled her head over to me. “Go on. Explain what you did.” Her voice purred.

“Yes! Tell them how you rescued me from that awful room.” Lucio encouraged.

I let out a quiet sigh. “I was investigating the Count’s murder. And… I ended up finding Lucio still in his room.”

“He was alive?!” Portia screeched then covered her mouth at her outburst. “I mean, was he alive?” She said, her voice muffled behind her hands.

I shook my head. “Not exactly. He was stuck between the world of the living and death. So, I… helped him by…,” I bit my lip and I couldn’t bring myself to look at Porita’s curious gaze.

“Go on. Tell her.” Lucio was now laying behind me. He had his head propped up by his golden arm while his other hand swirled in the water next to me.

“I bound Lucio to me.” I finally said.

“You did what?!” Portia exclaimed. “Did he threaten you? Was he going to hurt you if you didn’t?”

“Hurt you! I can’t believe she would suggest such a thing.” Lucio scoffed.

I shook my head. “No. He didn’t. I was just trying to help.”

Nadia let out a chuckle between her sips of wine. “And now you have Lucio attached to you. I couldn’t think of anything worse.”

Portia nodded in agreement. “And I thought my day was bad. You clearly win, Evie.”

Nadia and Portia both giggled. Lucio plopped down next to me with a disgruntled huff.

I bit my lip as I looked between Lucio and Nadia. For everyone reacting like this, one would assume I had shackled myself to the most vile man in existence.

“Nadia… I hope you don’t think of this as inappropriate. But, I was hoping you could tell me about Count Lucio.” I said.

Nadia and Portia exchanged glances to one another, concern spread across both of their faces.

“You don’t even know who I am?” Lucio sputtered before calming down. “Oh, sweet Evie, I could tell you all about me. It’s my favorite subject, you know. ” He ran his finger down my shoulder to my elbow. He pressed his nose against my hair as he whispered, “You need only ask.” I had to contain the way his ghostly touch made me shiver. I was thankful he moved away from me, but he was still too close for comfort.

“Quite amazing. You bound yourself to someone you didn’t even know. I can’t tell if you’re naïve, idiotic, or selfless.” Nadia’s eyes were downcast. “But, I suppose if you did know, you wouldn’t have done it.” She swirled her glass in thought. The setting sun glinted against the fine crystal, making it dazzle. “I don’t recall much of my time with him. But, from what I remember, Lucio was… how to best put it?” Nadia hummed in thought.

“An Egomaniac?” Portia blurted out then covered her mouth again. “I’m so sorry, your grace.”

Nadia laughed and nodded. “No. That’s exactly it. Selfish. Entitled. Volatile.”

“Rude. I heard he loved to throw things at the servants anytime he was annoyed.” Portia chimed in.

Out of the corner of my eye, Lucio was completely taken back by their words. I felt a bit sorry for him. “He doesn’t sound like a good person.” I sheepishly said.

“That’s because he wasn’t, sweetheart.” Nadia chuckled. “He was only interested in what best served him. He didn’t care about what I, or anybody else wanted. Especially not the people of Vesuvia. Even though he claimed otherwise. His incompetence has led to a decline in the city, that I’m now having to fix. ” She scoffed. “The only thing he might’ve really cared about were his dogs. If that.” Nadia took a long sip of her wine, the cup was nearly finished.

“He cared about his hair.” Portia giggled.

“Ha! Yes. His looks. I will admit, he was very easy on the eyes. And very, very nice in bed.” Nadia had a playful smirk toying on her lips. “Although, needy. I couldn’t have any fun without him. He was always so desperate for any kind of attention.”

Lucio crossed his arms in an obvious pout. I felt their words slicing into me as if they were speaking ill of me.

“Surely, there must’ve been something about him that wasn’t completely terrible?” I asked, begged really, for any kind of redemption for him.

Nadia frowned, her mind years away. “If there was, I don’t remember." She met my eyes with a soft smile. "Perhaps, you’ll find something in him worth saving. Because I never could.” She finished her glass then rose from the warm waters. “All this talk of my dear husband makes me in need of another bath.”

She stalked out of the water and put back on her silk robe. She spared me a sideways glance. “If Lucio were a whore, I would’ve paid good money for him.”

“And as a Count?” I wondered.

She smiled, the answer laid within her ruby eyes, before she sauntered away.

Portia also got out of the bath. “I suppose that was a long enough soak. You coming?”

I looked from her then down to the deflated form of the Count. “Not yet. I need a few minutes to process… well all of it.”

Portia gave me a pitying smile. “I’m sure it’ll work itself out. Don’t fret!” She smiled sweetly at me. She left the room and I was alone with Lucio, who was sulking next to me.

“That was pretty brutal. Are you alright?”

Lucio’s brows furrowed and he shook his head. “I was alone in that room for three years. Not one person came to see me. Not one. And to find out it was because they all despised me.” His head fell and he looked on the verge of tears. I placed my hand on his. The energy between us briefly merged together and he jolted in place.

“What are you doing?” He asked, his glowing eyes wide with suspicion.

“I… trying to… comfort you?” I felt silly as I explained myself. He stared at our hands then back to me.

“I don’t need your pity.” He spat.

“I’m not pitying you.” I quickly said. “I’m empathizing. What they said, I could feel that it hurt you.”

“You felt…,” he let out a huff as he rolled his eyes, “Of course you did. This bond we share. Seems we’re more linked than I originally thought.” Lucio frowned.

“Seems so.”

There was a long pause between us. I wasn’t sure how to break it, but Lucio did it for me. “Do you think less of me now? Do you think I’m a-a-a self-centered, idiotic, whore?” Lucio snarled with disgust.

“Were you?” I asked.

He looked offended then grimaced. “I… I didn’t think so. I don’t know.” He was quiet as he hesitated on what he wanted to say. “Being alone in that room… I didn’t have much else to do, except think. And the only thing I could think about was if things went… differently. ”

“What would you of’ve done differently?” I wondered.

He wrapped my hand with his and stroked over the top with his thumb. He let out a sigh then whispered, “I don’t know.”

“Well, if you don’t think you’re an incompetent whore, then what do you think of yourself?” I asked.

Lucio stared into the sunset as he thought over my question. “I’m not sure.”

I furrowed my brows as I thought over what to say next. He was lost. A feeling I recognized all too well. “I see it as you have two options. You can either pout and deny what they said. Or, you can accept that you lost yourself at some point. And do something about it.” I stated.

“Pout or change.” He chuckled, but it was bitter and didn’t reach his eyes. He looked at me. “What should I do?” He asked quietly.

I was surprised he would ask me, a stranger by all accounts, for advice. “I don’t believe you want to be all those things they said.” I confessed.

His brows rose. “You don’t? How? It seems to be the common opinion of me around here.”

I bit my lip as I wrestled with my confliction to tell him the truth or not. But, the truth was what he needed right now. “I believe you’re capable of changing. I don’t think you’re truly evil at heart. I think you care about more things than yourself. I believe you can take accountability for your past actions, and move towards a better future.” I paused before adding, “But, you’re the only one who can make that choice. No one else can. I can help you, but I can’t force you to change. That’s something you’ll have to do.”

Lucio was silent, pondering over my words. “That’s quite an optimistic vision you have of me.” Lucio’s eyes fell and he leaned his head on my shoulder. “Perhaps I can try to make it come true.” He whispered.

“I want to help you.” I whispered back to him. “We’re in this together now.”

“Mhm… together.” He squeezed my hand. “I couldn’t have asked for a better partner.”

“Me either.” I whispered.

He moved closer to me with a soft sigh. “Stay with me a while longer?”

“Of course.” I laid my head against his and we watched the sun dip below the horizon.

[skellebonez]

I hear people talking about Sandy basically being a human shield and it gave me an idea with #79 for Silktea Angst. Huntsman notices some scars on Sandy's back and when he tells Huntsy he got them while protecting his friends it leads the spider demon to think, less then highly of team MK. (not that he thought highly of them to begin with) - Pixel Anon

Well I can’t argue with that! After all... I was hoping to expedite a chapter two of a certain fic I started...

How did you get that scar?

Huntsman went over his clothes one last time before returning back to the spider lair, making absolutely sure there was no left over cat hair clinging to his coat or pants. No one could know where he just was. No one could know anything about the conversation he and Sandy has just shared. No one could find out about...

A shudder wove its way up his back, born of concern and fear of being discovered. He couldn’t believe he told Sandy that much.

But he did. He hadn't told the other man every single thing, but if anyone knew he'd certainly have hell to pay. Something about Sandy, the warmth and openness he held despite what Huntsman had done, just drew all of it out of him. Maybe it was the fact that the warmth he exuded was such a stark contrast to the coldness added to his home since the Lady Bone Demon arrived.

He couldn't even blame it on the idea that the tea was secretly a truth serum. He'd told everything before he'd even taken that first sip.

And then that smile...

A thump resounded through his chest.

... oh.

"... oh no," Huntsman whispered to himself as he snuck back into his home, careful not to alert anyone to his presence and careful not to let his internal revelation stumble him as he felt that same odd thump in his chest as before. The one from when the other smiled at him, the second smile that was far softer than the ones he was greeted with before.

It was at that moment Huntsman knew... he may have messed up.

~

"You're back sooner than I expected," Sandy said nonchalantly as he opened his door at 5 past midnight the next evening. He gave him the other kind of smile, the one that was too wide and open for his liking, and welcomed him inside without question.

Huntsman hadn't needed to sneak out this time at least. He'd had time to plan, make sure that he covered his tracks properly like a good hunter did when going after their prey, and to come up with a reasonable explanation for his absence in the night. Given what they were planning behind the Lady Bone Demon's back that was easy enough.

While Syntax would be a better lead for finding certain things they need they needed him back in the lair to plan and build. Huntsman, on the other hand, could sneak and find and bring things back much easier than his more technologically impressed counterpart. And while he may have lied about where exactly he was going to hopefully get what he needed, Sandy...

He knew Sandy wasn't just muscles and tea, even if he had mocked him for it before. The boat he lived on was proof enough of that.

"I want to tell you more," he started slowly, sitting down on the couch and watching as the calico cat that had approached him last time stood and sat on the arm across from him. "And... Ask for your assistance."

Sandy paused what he was doing, tea cups only left partly filled for a moment before he continued as. "With what?"

"My Queen has a plan," Huntsman began, and this time he didn't hold anything back.

He told Sandy about what really happened at the festival. How he'd seen her true face after stealing the demon revealing mirror. How MK had snuck into their lair and had fought Spider Queen in shrunken form (he did not miss the shock and confusion and then a sad realization on Sandy's face at this revelation, but shouldn't he have known that already? it wasn't that long before he'd gone to retrieve the flower in the first place). How they had a plan, something that may just be enough to halt her provided they were able to complete it. How he and his two counterparts had looked at their plans and realized they may not have enough time on their own.

How Sandy's offer was probably one of the only things he could think of that could help them at this point. When they were quickly running out of time.

Sandy had brought him some tea half way through his explanation and said nothing the entire time. Just kept watching him and nodding his head to show he was listening.

"And now you know exactly the depths of the trouble we're in," Huntsman finished gravely. He held his empty cup in his hands, glowering down at the loose leaves in the bottom.

"I'm gonna be honest with you," Sandy started, swirling his own cup with a far off look on his face. "I didn't... I didn't know most of this. MK never told us about going into the sewers."

"What?" Huntsman asked incredulously, looking at the other in disbelief. "You can't be serious."

"I am!" Sandy insisted, face firm and worried. "Until last night I didn't even know it was the Lady Bone Demon you were working for! He hasn't told us any of this, just that someone was working with the Spider Queen and that's it. This explains his reaction to the game though..." He trailed off, looking deeper into his cup as if the tea would spill all of the secrets he needed to know.

"I thought heroes were supposed to be more honest than that." Huntsman scowled, jolting a bit as the calico climbed into his lap. At least this time he didn't have to worry about removing every cat hair, stray cats were common in the city and it wouldn't be odd for him to encounter one while out, though he would certainly still try.

"MK's a good kid," Sandy said softly, standing with a sigh and rubbing the back of his neck. "But... I think he thinks he has to deal with this on his own. To prove something."

"That's stupid."

This time Sandy leveled him with a glower, rough and harsh and not unlike the one he was met with during their fight. It made him freeze, a cold shudder running through him at the memory of the scenery around them he'd watched whiz past him as he ran.

The mountain that was more crescent moon hole than mountain now.

But that glower only lasted a moment, Sandy sighing and rubbing his face. He looked... tired. More tired than just from staying up late... had he slept after their last encounter?

"MK's not stupid," he defended as he sat back down. "But I can't deny that his choice to not tell us anything, no matter the reason, is foolish at best and dangerous at worst. I need to talk to him."

"Will he believe you figured all this out on your own?" Huntsman raised an eyebrow. The calico's claws dug into his legs as she, he was certain the cat was a she now, made herself comfortable.

"No. But I don't have to tell him you told me now if you want these two visits to remain a secret. I'll tell him you said something when I got the flower that was making me worry and that I put the pieces together over the last few days."

This made Huntsman pause himself, looking at Sandy with a narrowed gaze. "That's... shockingly generous of you."

"I know what wanting privacy feels like," Sandy said easily and something akin to a cold knife stuck itself in Huntsman's stomach as he remembered their fight once again. "...Thank you."

Again, this surprised Huntsman (there was a lot of that about this night it seemed). "For... what?"

"Telling me all this," Sandy said with a gesture of his arm and that damn smile. "You didn't have to. But you trusted me enough to do that anyway."

Trust... did Huntsman trust Sandy? Or was his just concerned enough for his Queen and his own life to push any distrust aside for the sake of their survival? Or was he just lonely with only a distracted queen, his old companion, and the newest addition who he already didn't see eye to eye with as regular company that didn't show frustration at his presence? So lonely that someone smiling at him so genuinely made his heart (yes, he was certain that was his heart now) thump harder than he ever remembered it doing in his life.

"... don't mention it," it what he chose to reply with instead of confronting any of those thoughts head on. Especially that last one.

He could unpack that later. Or never. Preferably never, but something told him that wasn't going to happen.

"Well!" Sandy suddenly announced, standing up and clapping his hands dramatically with that too wide smile back on his face. "I'm hungry! And I have just the perfect snack for this next batch of tea!"

Before Huntsman could argue that he wasn't hungry himself Sandy had turned around and was off into his kitchen, the sudden movement making the calico cat startle and jump off Huntsman's lap.

And then the spider demon was alone.

The temptation to take what he needed from the boat, wherever it may be hidden, and leave was strong. So strong. But he knew that if he did that the rest of his plan would be for nothing. He knew they needed more time and that wasn't something they could buy. Not anymore, not when the Lady Bone Demon had so much of what she needed already. But more help could make up for that time... and as much as he knew that his Queen would be furious with him for going behind her back, for seeking help from one of the Monkie Kid's friends of all people, he cared more about them living than her wrath at this moment.

Maybe he would have felt different if he was faced with that wrath head on, but he wasn't.

So instead, for whatever reason he told himself that wasn't just "sheer curiosity", he stood and followed the other man part way into the kitchen as quietly as he could manage and watch. And then he noticed something he'd seen before.

He couldn’t help but stare. He had noticed them during their first encounter on his boat, but hadn’t paid attention, really. Too focused on the conversation at hand and worrying about how this could all go horribly wrong. But now... now he couldn’t help but stare at Sandy’s back, wide and vast and muscled and scarred. Little nicks and wide chasms of slices and cuts and stabs littered his spine and shoulders, each of varying levels of age and healing. So much more than on his chest.

Sandy said he didn’t fight unless he had to, so... Huntsman had to ask.

"How did you get that scar?"

"Which one?" Sandy countered almost immediately, and Huntsman realized he may have been more aware of his surroundings when in his own home than Huntsman had given his credit for.

"Any of them. All of them. Take your pick."

He didn't look away from his back. Sandy didn't turn to face him.

"Most of them are old," Sandy started, the scars moving as his shoulders moved to prepare whatever it was he was making. "Pretty obvious some of them are recent. I told you I don't like to fight, but my friends..."

Sandy trailed off, most likely looking for the right words to explain. But Huntsman realized the implication long before he had the chance.

"Don't tell me you've been making yourself a meat shield for your friends," he said with a scowl. The idea of him doing that for people who were supposed to be heroes... for some reason he didn't like that at all.

"I wouldn't put it that way," Sandy countered, turning around with a plate of some kind of cup up sweet. "They don't really like it, but if my friends are in danger I want to protect them. Sometimes I forget I'm not invincible like other people."

"Wow, sounds like bad decisions are just a theme for us," Huntsman said under his breathe with a scowl, regretting saying that the second it left his mouth.

Sandy hadn't seemed to have heard him though, or if he did he made no indication that he had been offended by the statement. Which... seemed to be a pattern with the other. He didn't seem to get offended by much unless you were hurting his friends directly.

... Huntsman realized he had no idea what that felt like on either end.

But it struck him as odd, and foolish. His friends should be able to take care of themselves. He'd seen even the human scholar fight during the festival and in the celestial realm, he wasn't nearly as strong as everyone else but he put up a decent defense. For Sandy to jump in front of them to take a blow, and for them to allow him to do that...

He scowled even deeper than before. Had they no pride? No shame in letting someone else take the hits for them like that? Foolish indeed!

"You gonna sit back down?" Sandy asked after a moment, shocking Huntsman from his thoughts, gesturing to the couch. "You still haven't told me what you need."

"You sure you trust me enough to give it to me?" Huntsman asked as he sat back down, reaching to push away the plate of sweets from his side of the table. He had no interest in food at the moment.

He didn't get to do that, Sandy's hand reaching out and grabbing his wrist instead.

His hand was warm and firm and calloused from years of whatever it was he had done before and from working on tech. His fingers slipped under the cuff of his coat slightly and Huntsman could have sworn that the other man could feel how fast his heart had begun to beat in response.

"I told you before," Sandy started, pushing his hand back away from the plate. It was that Huntsman realized he had slipped something into his hand. "I don't trust you, not yet. But I offered you that second chance."

"Y-yeah," Huntsman stammered out as he wrist was let go of. He yanked it back, looking down at what was in his hand. Another tea bag and a different sweet. Store bought and wrapped. A simple fruit flavored hard candy, nothing more. But given to him all the same. Something he could choose to eat when he wanted... or not at all. Maybe that meant something, maybe it didn't.

The warmth that seemed to linger on his wrist felt like it did though.

"Now, what do you need? I can't guarantee I have it, but I'll do my best to help."

Huntsman's scowl remained on his face as he explained what materials they needed and what they were hoping to find to expedite a few certain old creations in their building of what they needed.

His scowl remained as Sandy handed him everything he needed, bidding him a safe return to his home with a yawn when he made his leave.

It remained as he rushed back to the lair, back to his Queen, to present the treasure trove they needed to get everything back on track. As Syntax looked at him in suspicion. As he returned to his own quarters holding his wrist, wanting to feel the same warmth around it that was now missing again. As he snuck a cup of hot water into his room and he dipped the tea bag into it and waited.

It only dissipated as he opened the hard candy, popping it into his mouth as he took a sip of the new tea.

The natural sweetness of the new tea tea mixed with the mouth punching sourness of the hard candy.

Huntsman couldn't help but smile, just a bit, as the flavors mingled in a way he knew many people would find unappealing. But he loved it. Sour and hard mixed with sweet and smooth.

The big guy was more insightful than he thought.

[anechomirrored]

Fandom: Original Work

Rating: T

Prompt(s):"What are you doing?"

Warnings: hunted, chased, taunted.

It was hard to breathe.

Minnow kept running, her feet pounding the pavement. Her eyes were wide, taking in her surroundings in the way all prey did, rapidly and desperately.

The creature behind her let out a rumbling guffaw as if it was pleased by her rising panic. In truth, it likely was. The fear meant she would push, that she would take risks, make mistakes, not plan for the inevitability of it outlasting her frenzied pace with its controlled lope.

She took another turn sharply and lunged. The momentum took her over the crumbling ditch and into the bushes on the other side. She paid no heed to the branches clawing at her shins, tearing at her skin. The bushes gave way to slim trunked poplar trees, these gave way to maples and evergreens. She didn't stop. She couldn't, not if her intention was to live.

This was not the first time that she had encountered this entity. She had been holed up on the edge of this empty city for almost a month now. She should have known that her presence would draw attention. She had been too injured and so, so tired.

It's arrival had started with a dream. A dream about a strange black bird. It feathers sleek, stomach gaunt and eyes bright with a hunger she had only known in the darkest months, when no traditional means of food were to be found. She woke with a cold sweat and had heard its strange laugh retreating into the night.

It did not make itself known futher.

Not right away, at least.

The first time she saw it she was foraging. The city had resources, that was why she was here after all.

Even after The Fall most of the towns and cities still had plenty of resources to pick through, if one was foolhardy enough to enter.

The shadows were long in those streets and ghosts walked the dilapidated sidewalks. It was unadvisable to traverse it alone but Minnow had little choice these days.

Once she had traveled with others. Cook and Shaker had been her favorites. Riddle and Mouse had been good company as well but their memories hurt. She hoped they were still safe at Settlement Rock.

A sudden drop in the terrain jarred her knee and she stumbled forward with a cry, barely able to remain upright and in motion.

"What are you doing?" A voice growled in the shadows behind her.

" Do you remember me, Little Sparrow? I am the ravens on the lampposts. The voices on the wind at night when you huddle amongst the wreckage of humanity and pretend to sleep." Its voice was like a base drum, sending verbrations through her.

She continued forward her knee protesting at her weight and her continued motion. She could hear the faint rushing of water. Her pulse beat heavily in her skull.

The creature behind her was death. It smelled of sun dried bones and something acrid. As she took in breath after laboured breath she caught the distinct taste of copper on the wind as well.

'Don't look back.' She thought, 'It only speaks because it wants you to lose your nerve.'

"Not so, Sparrow. I speak because your body is failing you and I no longer need to save my breath for the hunt." the creature taunted.

Minnow's next breath was drawn sharply, a cry escaping her lips.

" Your heart hammers in your chest, Your soul shakes, they form the sweetest song for me as you struggle for breath. Won't you slow down and let me hear what other songs it can sing?"

Minnow gritted her teeth and pushed her screaming limbs to keep the pace.

The crashing of the underbrush behind her was joined with soul chilling laughter.

Keep. Running.

There was a sickening moment in which minnow felt the ghost of a touch graze her shoulder. This happened just before a loose stone sent her tumbling down a ledge she had not seen.

Her grasping hands met air, her feet fought for purchase but found nothing.

A pair of eyes shone above her. Their hunger impossibly tangible. Minnow made impact with the frigid waters below, the ones she had thought sounded so much further away.

As the current swept her flailing form downstream a creature called Hunger watched intently.

"You always find a way to leave me wanting little Sparrow." He rumbled. " No matter, I will find you again."

[bush-viper-cutie]

Chapter One: The New House

Pairing: Snape x OC

Word Count: 2,472

Rating: E

Plot:  Severus, forced to live with his parents once again, moves into a new house with them… except the house itself isn’t new. Its old, very old indeed.

Warnings: none

A/N: Snapetober! I will be posting chapters often to this slice-of-life gothic slow-burn romance I have in my head :D Not following any prompts but I hope the general atmosphere of these chapters are spooky? Mixed with some gothic… maybe some supernatural elements ahead ;) Enjoy :D

Posted: 10/1/21

Chapter List

Next Chapter –>

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~*~*~ = time skip

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Severus Snape hated his life. His parents were awful, his family had no money, no support from anyone, and everyone he'd ever known hated him. The majority of his 20 years of life had been like that, except for a small bit of it where it wasn't, where it had been alright. For a few quick years, he had one friend who understood him, although it was now as he sat in the backseat of his father's car, looking up at the clouds, that he wondered if she ever did.

The clouds coated the sky, covering every sliver of sunshine with thick grey. No light broke through and as a result, everything looked as miserable as his life felt. The droning of the car engine and tires on concrete grated his ears as he tried for peace of mind.

His father's suitcase - sandwiched above Severus' trunk and his mother's large bag - dug into his side, poking at him deeper with every turn the car took. They'd been driving for almost an hour but he knew they weren't even close to their destination; they were still inside the city, still inside its limits. He didn't need to know where they were going, even if he'd like to, he knew his father couldn't afford to move to any city nor any country home close by.

His mother sat quietly in the passenger seat, watching classy houses with nice, white picket fences and short little rose hedges pass by as they drove. She looked away from the window when they stopped at lights or when his father needed to look at the map for directions; Severus suspected she didn't want to know if any of the four-member families out on their daily evening walk around their block looked in to see who owned the beat-up little pile of scrap metal driving by their house.

He didn't care though. He hardly cared about anything lately. The last time he could remember caring was the scroll parchment he'd received for graduating Hogwarts. That was all he'd wanted for two years. After he'd lost his only friend - his only best friend - he focused on school and school alone. He thought everything about his life would change the second he got hold of that certificate. For a few long days it had felt like a first-place trophy, but it wasn't. It was what it was: A certificate, of completion, of participation. Nothing more.

Maybe he could have been something. If he'd gotten a job, saved up while living with his parents, and finally moved out, leaving them behind forever... But he didn't do that. He spent two years wasting time meddling in a bigoted cult working, selling potions for scrap. Hardly making enough to stay off the streets pretending like it was better than living at home just because the new sinking ship he'd found himself in was with his friends. Maybe eventually he could have made it work if it hadn't been for the Aurors who busted their small section of Death Eaters dedicated to making money selling illegal potions.

He supposed they threw themselves a party, thinking themselves big-shots, catching a handful of young adults making money out the back of a shady pub. He remembered the headline in the Daily Prophet: "Fourteen Death Eaters caught and awaiting sentencing". He supposed his mother thought herself a saint now too, bailing him out, saving him from days of "possible abuse" as if it were any worse than the prison he'd lived in all his life.

At first, he couldn't figure why - not for the life of him - she'd even care what happened to him. He wasn't a child and he wasn't her problem anymore. He knew she derived some sick pleasure knowing he not only owed his existence to her but now his freedom as well... and then it all came out. They bought a new house and it wasn't built to be kept up by two people, hell not even three but he was sure his extra pair of hands would come very handy to them.

They didn't even need to pay him. Not only was he their child, but that bail money was something he couldn't even attempt at paying back, and not because it had been a lot. She'd paid it in wizarding money left over from her witch days and she knew his wand had been broken as part of his sentencing. He'd have to beg some stuck-up department deep in the government for a wand permit which cost money. Then he'd have to buy himself a new wand, then work to pay her back all while "bumming" it at home while his father yelled about getting a "real job", one that didn't involve "devil magic" in the "devil society" that was the wizarding world. And he was sure he wouldn't be able to show up for work with a bruised eye or swollen jaw, even if by some miracle his employer could look past his new criminal record.

He held in a wince as the car turned again and the top luggage fell onto his head. He was back to old habits trying to pretend he didn't exist.

"Hey," Tobias said, glancing at him in the rearview mirror. "Fix that."

Without a word, Severus shoved the luggage back onto the pile behind the driver's seat and sat back. They were on the outskirts of society now. The scenery had turned to country, and the smog of the city had cleared, though the skies were still dark.

His father stopped for a few moments and refolded the map on his lap. His mother carried on watching the world outside, unresponsive to either of them or the happenings inside the car.

"What's that say," Tobias handed Severus the map and lit a cigarette while he waited, not bothering to open the window.

Severus brought the map up to his eyes and squinted. His eyesight was poor and worsened by the approaching dark. "S-starts with 'c'..."

"S'got a double 't' or 'h'?"

"'H'." Severus handed it back and Tobias started driving again.  He took several turns and headed onto a rougher road.

Within minutes the tame country became wild and morphed into a long stretch of woods. For the first few minutes, he hadn't even noticed despite being completely focused on the environment that passed them, like his mother still was. The first few trees seemed to go on, and just when he thought they'd clear them and continue driving past open fields, the trees persisted until he realized they were deep inside a forest now.

A few more minutes passed and they finally did exit the forest into a wide field of dead chopped trees cleared to the side on either edge of the steep hill the car was climbing. Severus sat up finally, hearing his spine crack and snap into place after being hunched over for the better part of the day. He liked the colorful mushrooms and bright green moss growing on the black logs of the discarded trees.

"Here," Tobias grumbled, rolling down the window. He flicked his cigarette butt and rolled it back up.

Severus sat forward and looked out the windshield up at the house they were approaching. It was large and clearly abandoned, probably for a good decade. The shingles were covered in dead leaves, the paint was chipping, the windows were gray and smeared with dirt likely blown during wind storms. The porch was missing a step and the columns holding up the covering were slanted. It was more yellow at the top and browner at the bottom - rot on the foundation most likely.

He slumped back in his seat. At least, if it turned out horrible, if it came down the second they stepped inside, or the walls melted from mold before their eyes, their old home was still waiting for them, the cursed thing. Almost all houses back home on Spinners End were abandoned. No one to sell to, no one to buy decrepit eyesores in the shadow of rundown factories. But at least he still had the option if it all went wrong.

~*~*~

Severus stuffed his suitcase into the closet, kicked it in, and shut the door. Unpacking could wait. He turned around and looked at his room as a whole. It was small, located up the stairs in a corner. It had a slanted roof which was odd, considering there was a third floor above him. It would do though, it was on the opposite side of the house as his parent's room, so it would certainly do quite nicely.

He moved to the window and looked out to watch the mist settle below. His father was gone to town to purchase things they'd need: a lighter apparently for the fireplaces since this house was built before furnaces and never renovated. He felt like a poor house servant to a rich Lord, but it was better than feeling like a roach in his old home. They needed coal too, or maybe wood, whatever old metal kitchen stoves and ovens used.

Severus walked out of his room to look down the hall again. It was a larger house than he was used to - it practically felt like a palace - and was sure it would take a few days to memorize how to find the correct corridor places.  It wasn't Like Hogwarts, which typically took several years to memorize the right paths.

He walked down the opposite way he came and observed the way the dust clung to the walls giving the blue wallpaper a very muted look. The original owners liked their colors, practically every room had a different color to it. Corridors were blue, bedrooms green, dining room orange, library red, kitchen white, bathrooms pink... At least none of the colors were very offensive to the eyes, even without the dust they were all very muted and earthy.

He had explored the bottom floor, the second floor had all the bedrooms, and the third-floor stairs must be around somewhere, hidden. As he walked a new corridor he noticed there were spaces on the wall which had, at one time or another, held frames or mirrors but they were long gone. He turned the corner to a long hallway with very tall windows on one side. He could see the mist again and possibly behind it was more to the forest surrounding the house. He mentally noted which turn brought him to the back wall of the house. He walked on and at the center were the stairs to the third floor tucked into a gap in the wall opposite the windows.

The handrails were covered in dust and between the wood pillars were cobwebs that swayed as he crept up. There was an open floor filled with ghostly sheet-covered furniture. A chandelier holding half-used candles lay on the floor with a long chain still connected to the ceiling. Its crystals refracted light from the large windows on either side of the room.

He sat on a couch - not bothering with the cloth - and sighed. Eventually, they'd put him up to getting all this old stuff down so that his father could sell it, although, they'd already been inside once before and said they couldn't find the stairs to this floor - or large room.

He got up and walked back down the stairs peering into the small crevice between the handrail and wall. When he reached the bottom step he noticed the indent on the edge of the left-hand wall and pulled on it. A little ring popped out and when he pulled on that, the wall rolled out. No, it was a door. He pulled it further and closed it behind him. He stepped back against the windows. The wallpaper blended seamlessly and would have been hard for him to tell that it was a door at all. He pressed the blue-colored ring back against the wall and walked back to his room.

~*~*~

Severus heard a car door slam and sat up in bed. His father was finally back with the supplies to hopefully get dinner started. His nap must have been a few hours because the sun had already dipped below the tree lines.

"Severus," his father called out to him, his echoes from one side of the house bounced off every wall to reach Severus' ears. "Now."

He swung his legs over the bed and left his room, stumbling down the dark hallway towards the front of the house. He stopped at the foot of the stairs looking down. His father was smoking again and had dropped several grocery bags on the floor. He blew the smoke out of his mouth and looked up at Severus, then motioned for the bags and pointed in the general direction of the kitchen.

Severus obeyed and carried them in, placing them on the counter - which had been dusted - and started taking out the contents. The only modern appliance in the house was the fridge, tall silver and brand new; it must have been the real major cost of the house.

His father had bought a large head of cabbage and a pack of sausages. There were matches but no coal which means they might be having cold soup for dinner again. He put everything away and came back to stand at the door.

He stepped aside as Tobias entered the house again. Severus thought about stepping out and walking around for a bit, not wanting to be in the same house as his parents, but felt the distance between his room and theirs was enough for today.

He turned to the stairs and saw his mother holding the banister looking down at him.

"Tomorrow there'll be a list of chores for you in the kitchen," she said. Her stiff voice echoed throughout the house and she kept her eyes on him waiting for a response.

He gave none and she left, unbothered. It was the way of their relationship. She'd ignore everything he said, and he'd do the same. He walked up the stairs, hearing how they creaked and groaned under his weight, echoing off walls and resonating down the hall. He headed to his room and closed the door. It was only around nine, fully dark, but he was done with the day. Dinner wasn't worth facing them and staying awake any longer wasn't worth the boredom and loneliness.

He took his pillow out of his trunk and fell onto the bed, almost disappointed it didn't break and send any amount of adrenaline or chemical of any kind to his brain. He moved his pillow, slid his arm under it, and closed his eyes.

~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~ * ~~~

Chapter List

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[miyomiikonran]

Whumptober 2022 Day 5

I'm just quickly gonna throw it here as I'm not only late but on my way to work :'D Stay tuned for another one at the end of the day cus I need to catch up .u.

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Today's theme: Every whumpee's needs

Chosen prompt: Blood loss

Universe: Cyberpunk 2077

Character/s: Isei & his lil brother Tetsuro

Word count: ~1300

Tw: Violence, child abuse mentioned, hemophilia

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Practice makes a master they say. Well, Isei for sure had some practice with sneaking around and stealing already, despite being only 16 y.o. In this city where everything happens fast, you have to live fast and it seemed kids had to grow up fast as well. Especially when you're a runaway kid taking care of another, smaller kid, with hard to explain actions on your record. You know, like killing your abusive mother, who's acting skills were always so great that police would rather believe her than a kid. Fuck them all.

This evening was just another one in a row of his escapades. Go out around late evening, look for some drunk folks hanging around clubs and going home late at night, steal either money or something that can be sold easily. That was it, simple. But nothing went right that night. First, he lost a chance to take some lone gal's jewellery while she was almost passed out by the bar, but some friends of hers popped up, so he managed to get only a small ring off her hand, while her neck shined with gold necklace. Such a waste. Then... Well. There was a reason why he mostly targeted women. Even more so around their home district, where men were mostly gang members, scavs or smugglers with influential friends. Last thing he wanted was to get fucked up by someone's gang mates. But that particular guy... He didn't seem dangerous. No sight of a gun and he watched really closely, no visible cyberware anywhere other than his face, sitting alone and seemingly drowning his pitifully sad mug into more and more and more alcohol. And he was paying with cash, which was unusual. Probably just got paid, so he expected his wallet to have some good cash. Bar was crowded, it seemed like a perfect spot... He waited till the guy was barely awake, dozing off one time after another in between his drinks... Just get his wallet out of pocket and take off. He had some weird feeling whenever he looked at him, but there is no good catch without risk, right? He was almost there, hand sneaking in his pocket...when guy grabbed him with some crazy reflex, staring him down with this blank stare in his eyes... A smile creeped on his face when he tried to get his hand off and run, but his grasp was hella strong.

- Some lil worm crawled in there, huh...? - he stated more than asked, but Isei didn't care to answer, he just tried to jerk off his hand, but even with his other hand trying to pry a stranger's fingers open, it was no use. It couldn't be just a human hand, despite its fleshy looks. He knew well enough he was fucked at this moment...he just didn't realize how much. At least not till blades slided out of man's knuckles, stabbing his wrist, slowly pushing in the flesh, making deep holes that started bleeding immediately. That's when his instincts kicked in for real, his insides burning, his mind shouting "GET OUT" at him, and so he grabbed nearby glass, still halfway full and shattered it on the guy's face, scratching his own fingers and finally making him let go in a cascade of curses.

Isei immediately took off, running out of the bar pushing aside some new people just walking in... But the guy decided to not let it slide just like that. He went out after him just as he was about to turn into another alley, gun in his hand... And his reflexes turned out to work great even with alcohol stabbing him right into his eyeballs. Sharp pain went through his shoulder joint, as a bullet went all the way through it and hit the wall in front of him. Whoever that was, he wasn't fuckin around, he was trying to aim for the head and who knows if he wouldn't score that headshot if not for the amount of alcohol he drank. At least that was in the boy's favour, there wasn't a way in hell for him to catch up and so he got away.

But... That wasn't the end of his problems. He got away, but he was left with nasty, heavy bleeding wounds. He already knew better what's gonna happen if he doesn't stop the flow in couple of minutes. Maybe he fled death at the hands of that guy, but his hemophilia was just waiting for something like that to happen...

When he made sure he got far enough, he found a place to sit and tore his t-shirt into pieces, helping himself with a small knife he had. He first used it to cut off the blood flow with tight strap around his arm and to patch his hand up the same way. However, his shoulder was much worse, he could feel blood dripping on his back, in front half of his chest was already red. It was a long time ago when he last felt that... Scared. His head and heart were pounding like crazy. This is bad. This is fuckin bad. He just pressed his teeth hard, knowing this would hurt like hell and first stucked some cloth deeper into the wound and then wrapped it around with the rest of the material he had left. It's not enough. He could feel how quickly blood was seeping through. Think think think! Then, a spark, a memory popped up. That can he got from a bag he stole some time ago. He has to get home fast. This instant. It was something about quicker healing. It was his only shot.

* * *

Loud banging on the door in the middle of the night wasn't anything unusual in this area. Every child knew better than to answer it, just ignore it as long as the door seems to hold on, as long as it doesn't seem too dangerous, so you would have to hide or run away. But this one weak bang? Just one, single one? Tetsuro immediately felt something heavy inside and ran to the door from his makeshift bed. He looked through the hole stepping on a wooden step his brother made him, just to be sure and opened it once he saw who's on the other side. They had a couple of simple latches and a lock, so it took a second especially when his hands started shaking.

- Isei! - little boy's voice was clearly scared, no wonder, he never came back home as bloodied as tonight, not as weak, he was barely standing on his feet and everything seemed to spin right before his eyes. He held onto the wall walking inside and went straight towards the second bed on the floor, stumbling and simply falling onto it, probably staining it with blood too.

- Lock...the door. Get me that spray, that... damn metal bottle. - he mumbled, turning around. His hands were shaking, it was so cold around despite it being the middle of the summer. Kid just ran around trying to find it, it took him a while, but at this point, whatever, he can't do that alone anyway. Once he came back to him, he just pointed at his back.

- Unwrap it. Spray the hell out of it...on that hole. - he said it as simply as possible, but the kid clearly had some doubts looking at that bloody mess.- Do it damn it! - he grumbled, his voice sounding so weird at this point, harsh and raspy. His vision soon got all black as he passed out just like that.

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I have so much written with this guy and still I had a problem writing it x'D Either way, meet another one of my babies who's come a long way from his original Wakfu universe, this time he wasn't even mine to begin with, but belonged to @ironic-artist , from who I kind of "adopted" and developed him further, especially in this universe. And gave him a little bro. Maybe one day I will post a whole series of writings with him? Who knows?

[batsandbugs]

Bats Bugs and Boomerangs Chapter 1

A/N: Hey everyone, coming at you with another series! This is actually for a late secret santa gift exchange! My recipient was @m3owww​! Her fandoms were Maribat and Avatar the Last Airbender, so I thought: Why not both? She already had a Maribat characters in the show type fic, so I created a fic where they watched the show. It slowly spiraled out of control though, so this is Chapter 1. I’ll eventually have the batfam (and Marinette) react to the whole series, so comment here and on ao3 what you want to see. So Phi, this is kinda like the gift that will keep on giving? Maybe? I hope you like it anyway. Enjoy! 

Our story begins on a frosty winter evening, outside Gotham at Wayne Manor. Marinette sat in the library working on an assignment for her History of Fashion class. She was alone, because Damian, Dick, Tim, and Bruce were out on patrol, with Barbara on comms. Tikki, unless eating or involved with a transformation, spent her time sleeping due to the freezing weather. While the other Kwami either resided in the box or roamed the grounds, and generally stayed out of the human's way.

Marinette gazed out the window, snow falling softly through the air, covering the ground and the tree branches. A crackling fire warmed the room. She shifted, and a painful ache shot through her leg. Marinette glared at the offending appendage, which was the reason she wasn’t out with the team tonight.

Her Miraculous could cure any injury sustained on the battlefield, it didn’t help her one bit when it came to her own natural clumsiness. She hadn’t paid attention as she’d walked out of class one evening. The dim lighting hid a black ice patch and she slipped and fell. Thankfully, her ankle was only sprained and not broken, but she would be out of commission for at least two weeks. Probably more if Alfred got his way.

Speaking of the elderly butler, he strode into the room carrying a tray of tea and cookies.

“Good evening Miss. Marinette. Need another refreshment?”

She sighed at the cold coffee dregs in her mug. “That would be nice, thank you, Alfred.”

He hummed, grabbing a teacup, and pouring her a serving. “How does your leg feel today? I notice you were leaning heavily on Master Damian after supper.” He handed the cup to her and the warmth was a welcome sensation for her chilled hands.

“Yeah, he’s been nice helping me around.” Nice was a misnomer, more like extremely overprotective. He point-blank refused for her to stay at her own apartment, mostly due to its location on the fourth floor with no elevator access. He all but forced her to watch him pack her essentials to bring to the manor while she recovered. Since then, his attentiveness in ensuring she had what she needed within reach and helping her to class had grown. It was a tad smothering considering his usual aloofness, but she enjoyed his actions for the affection it implied.

“It’s throbbing and hot and feels worse than it did three days ago.” She took a tiny sip of the tea and relaxed into its spiced aroma. Alfred made the best tea.  

He nodded. “It will feel uncomfortable for a while until it starts to mend. Just continue to rest and remain off it and you will be back to carousing around the city like the rest of them in no time.” He poured his own tea and seated himself in the plush armchair across from her spot on the couch.

“Oh, Alfred you say that as if you would not be right there along with us if age allowed,” said Marinette with a grin. The stories Dusu could recount about the elderly miraculous holder were nothing short of entertaining, and she knew damn well Alfred had the same need for action as the rest of the Waynes and their assorted allies.  

“I’d do nothing of the sort,” he said primly, taking a sip of his tea to hide the tiny smirk on his face. Marinette couldn’t help but laugh.

The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant silence. Despite the pain in her leg Marinette pushed through it and finished her assignment, while Alfred read until it neared time when patrol ended. He bustled up the remains of the tea and promise her a fresh cup when he finished seeing everyone arrive safely.

Later, although she could not say how long, she was buried deep in a book and didn’t notice when Damian entered the room until he sat next to her on the couch.

“Good evening angel.” His hair flopped in his eyes, loose and damp from the shower. In his hands, he held a tray with two cups of steaming tea.

“Thanks.” She took the proffered cup of tea with a smile. “How was patrol?”

“Boring,” he sighed. “You certainly are not missing anything.” If he wouldn’t have taken offense to it, Marinette would have described the look on his face as a pout.

“What about the drug seller Tim tracked to the lower docks?”

Damian shrugged. “Gone silent after we busted the last shipment. Seventeen years in and maybe the criminals finally figured out committing crimes in the same city as a relentless vigilante team is a bad idea,” he said with a raised eyebrow and a smirk. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from giggling. It was a common joke among the family that Gotham’s criminals never learned.

“I think it means we’re doing our job right,” said Tim walking in with a steaming mug. Marinette opened her mouth, but he cut her off. “Don’t worry, it’s decaf.”

“Like Pennyworth would let him drink anything else this time of night,” scoffed Damian, while taking a sip of his tea.

“I’m perfectly capable of monitoring my own caffeine intake, thanks,” Tim said in offense, seating himself across from the couch in the reading chair previously abandoned by Alfred.

“No, you’re not,” called a voice from the hallway. Dick walked in with a large mug of what was undoubtedly hot chocolate. “The last time he didn’t check your drink after patrol, you used coffee instead of water to brew another pot, and then added four whole bottles of five-hour energy. You didn’t sleep for three days.”

“I also solved five crimes, figured out where the Penguin was hiding, and streamlined the dropbox submission system for Wayne Industries. Life requires tradeoffs.”

“No that’s just you, ignoring basic human necessities. Anyway, besides Tim’s caffeine addiction, what are we talking about?” asked Dick.

“The reason for the lack of crime,” offered Marinette.

Dick shrugged, “Happens every year because of the weather. Even criminals get cold. They’ll return to their usual transgressions once the weather warms.” He took a sip of his hot chocolate.

“Tt. Weak,” muttered Damian.

Tim rolled his eyes. “Not everyone receives extreme weather training under threat of dismemberment, demon brat. We should take the opportunity to enjoy the break.”

“Tim, your version of a “break” involves paperwork,” chided Dick.

“It’s not my fault the rest of you people don’t have lives. I’m a remarkably busy person. And what is this, the-criticize-Tim-hour?”

“Oh, only an hour?” smirked Damian. “I thought it was a continuous event, one could choose to participate in whenever the mood struck. I will have to file all my complaints immediately.”

Tim pouted. “Marinette,” he whined. “Can’t you control him?”

She shrugged, “What do you expect me to do? I’m his girlfriend, not his minder. Besides, they criticize because they care.” She laughed when all three boys snarled their noses at the prospect of feelings.

“Marinette, angel, please; never say that again. I criticize because I am right, and they should know it. Not because of any high-minded ideals such as genuine affection.”

“Okay, okay, enough,” said Dick. “If we have a bit of a break, we should do something! Together, as a family. I think Cass and Steph come back in two days.”

“Grayson, just because your girlfriend is off-world visiting family and you have nothing to do does not mean it holds true for the rest of us.”

“Exactly!” exclaimed Tim, “Except not quite, because I don’t have a girlfriend, but I just said I’m busy. R&D is rolling out a new prototype next week, and I have two board meetings scheduled and-”

“Not to mention,” Marinette cut Tim off. He could talk about his schedule forever because he just had that many events. “I can’t move around, what would we even do? Play games?”

Tim rolled his eyes. “The list of games officially banned in our family includes, but is not limited to; Monopoly, Uno, Checkers, Risk, Risk: Legacy, Twister, Jenga, Clue, Guess Who, Poker, Chess, and Go Fish.”

“Oh…” muttered Marinette.

“And that doesn’t even include videogames.”

“After the Wii Bowling incident of 2013, the media room wall was never the same,” Dick said, shaking his head in despair.

“I actually apologized for that, okay?” exclaimed Damian. “Why do you always have to bring it up?”

Marinette fully intended to ask about the incident later. “Okay, so games are out.”

“Ooh,” Dick’s eyes lit up, “How about we call a Family T.V. Event?”

Tim groaned, “The last time we did that we blew up the shed, and got the police called.”

“Well, we won’t watch a crime show.” Dick turned to Marinette. “Jason picked; we watched Breaking Bad.”

“I can see how that would spiral out of control.”

“The time before that, we set fire to the media room and started a familial feud,” Damian pointed out. “Game of Thrones,” he added when Marinette looked to him for clarification.

“Even worse.”

“Okay, fine, so we don’t have the best track record picking shows. But I swear I have a good one this time.” He paused for dramatic effect. “Avatar: The Last Airbender.”

Tim snorted. “What? Like the kid’s show?”

Damian rolled his eyes. “Really Grayson, a cartoon? I know you are developmentally stuck at five, but not all of us are.”

“I’ve never watched it, but I’ve heard good things about it,” said Marinette. She knew there was a French translation of the show, but she preferred to watch media in its original language. Before moving to America, before dating Damian, her English had not been strong enough to confidently watch a show and understand all of it.

“Perfect!” exclaimed Dick. “I know you three and Cass haven’t seen it, and neither has Bruce or Alfred. I would bet Jason’s seen some of it, but I’ll have to check. Barbara and I have, but that’s fine, she loves the show. We’ll have to see about Steph too, but I’m sure she’ll enjoy it regardless. There are awesome characters, battles, suspense, comedy, and it’s not likely going to inspire us to blow up the shed or tear each other to pieces!”

“I have in no way agreed to this Grayson. Drake back me up.”

Tim paused for a moment, stuck between his need to disagree with Damian and the need to get out of Dick’s crazy plan. Unfortunately for Damian, the former won out. “Actually, you know what, a show could be fun. The episodes are what, thirty minutes? Shorter than Breaking Bad and Game of Thrones.”

Damian groaned while Dick responded happily, ignoring his brother’s distress, “Around twenty minutes actually. We could have the whole show finished in about a week or so.”

Damian turned to her, eyes wide and hopeful. “Marinette, please tell me you are on my side?”

She patted her boyfriend’s arm, “Sorry, mon amour, I’m stuck either way. Might as well watch a show.”

Damian flopped against the couch with a pout. “Betrayed. I have been grievously betrayed by my own brothers and girlfriend. What is this world coming to?”

“Woo!” exclaimed Dick, a wide grin splitting his face. “This is going to be great.”

“This is going to be awful,” moaned Damian.

-0-0-

It took a bit of convincing on the part of Dick to get Bruce and Alfred to agree to the venture. Marinette, after learning the full details of the last two Family T.V. Events, was wholly unsurprised. She also did not know the full extent of what Dick did to get Jason to agree (apparently, he and Bruce were fighting, again, so this was expected.) although it probably involved a bribe. But by the week’s end, the entire family was together, all under strict orders (and puppy-dog eyes from Dick) to be on their best behavior.

Which, without a doubt, not a single one of them knew what that entailed.

The arguing started with seating placement, then about who controlled the remote, then over the distribution of snacks, drinks, blankets, and pillows. At one point Jason pulled a knife, which prompted Damian to pull his knife, suddenly Cass had two shurikens visible (where she even kept them while wearing a tank top and shorts, no one could say), and then everyone was yelling with sharp pointy objects in hand.

Once the argument was firmly under control, Alfred collected the weapons and placed them in a wicker basket, along with all the mobile devices, until the episodes for the night were finished. The only one allowed to have a phone was Barbara who was in charge of checking police scanners for any major trouble while the family took the evening off.

Marinette seated herself curled up against Damian on the edge of the couch. She set her foot propped up on an ottoman so it wouldn’t get jostled, and she could continue to ice it throughout the evening. Damian secured their own bowl of popcorn, so they didn’t have to share it with the others.

“Alright, here’s how we’re breaking this down,” announced Dick, who won the battle for the remote, and therefore the episode schedule. “The episodes are short, at least, much shorter than the last show we watched.” He directed a pointed look at Jason.

“I make no apologies.”

“We’ll watch half a season a day, ten episodes apiece. The closed captions will be on but try to keep the chatter to a minimum.” Marinette held back a laugh. Damian explained no one kept quiet during these nights. Watching the show wasn’t the point of these events; if that were the case then they would just watch it all on their own time. The point was the time spent together. This is why even Bruce, emotionally constipated and single-minded in his pursuits as he was, put away the suit for a few days to watch T.V. with the rest of his collected family. Talking was expected.  

“We will, if you will,” called Stephanie.  

“I take offense to that.”

“Aw just sit Dickie, let’s watch the show,” exclaimed Jason.

“Yes, Grayson you already wrapped us into this pointless venture; we might as well get it over with,” Damian grumbled. Marinette found his hand in the folds of their shared blanket and laced her fingers with his. He squeezed her hand, and, when he was sure no one else was looking gave her a small smile. Marinette smiled back, he pretended to be such a grouch, but deep down he was a giant softy at heart.

Dick frowned, saying “Fine, fine, you don’t have to be spoilsports about it.” And pointed the remote at the T.V. starting the first episode.

-0-0-

It didn’t take ten seconds before the commentary began.

“Four elements?” exclaimed Tim.  “Are you serious? I could name at least a dozen off the top of my head. How are there only four nations? 0/10 completely unrealistic. Political infighting alone-”

“Ah, shut up, replacement.”

“Ruthless fire nation?” said Stephanie. “Methinks a little propaganda might be occurring here.”

“A hundred years!? What, has no one competent been born the entire time?”

Marinette shrugged. “The disadvantages of finite magic systems, Dami. It's learned indifference.”

“Honey, after a hundred years that’s not hoping, that’s naivety,” said Stephanie in response to Katara’s impassioned speech.

“She’s right!” exclaimed Dick.

“We know that, but she doesn’t.”

The show moved on to Katara and Sokka in a boat. Sokka held a spear above the water.

“Is he hunting that fish?” growled Damian.

“Ah yeah, I forgot you may hate the entirety of Sokka’s character,” said Dick with a grimace. “Whoops.”

“She’s not very good at the water moving, is she?” asked Marinette

“Waterbending,” Dick and Barbara said in unison.

Sokka chided Katara about her weird water magic. “Oh, he’s not going to be a dick for the whole show, is he?” asked Steph.

“He gets better.”

“They grew up here right?” asked Damian, as Katara and Sokka become caught in a rapid. “How did they not anticipate an event like this.”

“I knew I should have left you at home. Leave it to a girl to screw things up!”

“HEY!” shouted all the women in the room.

They watched as Katara’s fury built and broke the iceberg behind her.

“Good. Use anger, anger is alright,” Cass commented for the first time.

“Okay, you’ve gone from weird, to freakish.”

“This punk is just asking for a beating isn’t he,” growled Jason.

The beam of energy shot into the air after Katara and Sokka broke open the ice. “That’s not going to cause any trouble,” said Tim, rolling his eyes. “Nope, not suspicious or completely conspicuous at all.”

The scene switches to a metal ship.

“Finally! Uncle, do you realize what this means?”

“Oh, look, the bad guys,” deadpanned Tim. “I was right.”

Jason grabbed a handful of popcorn and shoved it into his mouth “What happened to his fucked-up fa-”

“YOU’LL FIND OUT!”

The scene switched back to Katara and Sokka. The figure is revealed to be a hyperactive little kid.

Damian frowned“Oh, I won’t like him either, will I Grayson?”

Dick tilted his head, “Eh.”

Then Appa is introduced.

“Father, could we-”

“No, Damian.”

They watched the children depart, and the scene moved back to the Fire Nation ship.

“Even if you're right, and the Avatar is alive, you won't find him. Your father, grandfather, and great-grandfather all tried and failed.”

“Well considering the Airbender child has been in an iceberg, it’s not surprising they failed.”

“Because their honor didn't hinge on the Avatar's capture. Mine does. This coward's hundred years in hiding are over.”

“Is it just me or does this angry, emo prince remind anyone of demon spawn?”

“Todd, shut your mouth before I remove your tongue.”  

Marinette leaned in close, “Maybe just a little like you.” Damian looked at her with a betrayed pout.

The scene switched and they watched Aang lie to Katara about the Avatar.

“The air child is guilty. Will cause problems later.”

“Narrative Cass, it’s narrative.”

Damian scoffed. “Miscommunication is plot convenience, and it’s a sloppy one at that.”

They watched Aang’s dream of how he ended up in the iceberg, him waking up to Katara and his introduction to the village.

“Well, no one has seen an Airbender in a hundred years. We thought they were extinct until my granddaughter and grandson found you.”

“Extinct?”

“He went into the ice and woke up to find the world different. Anyone getting serious Captain America vibes here?” said Jason, tone-deaf to the clear horror on Aang's face.

“Jason, he just found out his people potentially went extinct!” chided Marinette. 

“It's not for stabbing! It's for air bending.”

“Please tell me the main character is not a pacifist,” begged Damian.

“Well, he is a monk,” said Barbara with a sorry look.

“I sense he's filled with much wisdom,” Katara says as Aang sticks his tongue to his staff and it freezes.

“I switch back and forth between liking this girl and not. One second she’s got gumption, and the next she’s all starry-eyed and naïve,” grumbled Steph.

“I wonder who that reminds me of,” Damian whispered into Marinette’s ear. She felt her cheeks heat up.

"I'm not naive," she shot back. 

He raised a hand with two fingers close but not touching, "You're a little naive." Marinette huffed, but silently admitted to her boyfriend's point. She had a tendency to believe the best in people; she saw it as a strength and appreciated it in this Katara character, but it was so far from how Damian viewed the world, it honestly confused his siblings when they first started dating. 

Damian confided in her that he found it inspiring. She had been through so much, understood the cruelties of others, and still could see the good in people. 

The scene switched to the Fire Nation ship again, and Iroh explained the concept of firebending to an irate Prince Zuko.

“Finally, a display of actual competence,” exclaimed Damian.

“Enough! I've been drilling this sequence all day. Teach me the next set! I'm more than ready!”

“My tutors would have skewered me if I dared to act in such a manner,” he commented again, softer than the first time. More so that only Marinette could hear. Damian’s family was more than aware of his childhood and what it entailed; Marinette slowly learned with comments like this. She squeezed his hand again and received a small smile.

The scene shifted back to the village where Sokka’s failed “warrior lesson” occurred, and then-

“We don't have time for fun and games with the War going on!”

“What war? What are you talking about?”

“Where have you been, frozen in ice for a hundred years?” joked Dick.

They watched Aang offer to take Katara to the North Pole to find a water bending master. The two children go and play with the penguin creatures, but the tone shifted when an old Fire Nation ship appeared on the screen.

“Bad ship” muttered Cass.

“If you want to be a bender, you have to let go of fear.”

“There are so many things wrong with that statement I don’t even know where to start,” said Tim.

They watch Aang and Katara enter the Fire Nation Ship and wander talking about the war.

“Aang, how long were you in that iceberg?”

“I don't know. A few days, maybe?”

“I think it was more like a hundred years!”

“Are you kidding me?” yelled Jason. “How are they just figuring this out now?”

On-screen Aang stepped on the line of wire, tripping the traps.

“Tt. Amateurs.”

"See, she told him it would be a bad idea!"

A flare rises through the air.

“That’s not going to cause any-”

“Oh, shut up Tim.”

The Fire Prince once again appeared on the screen.

“The last Airbender!”

“I was right,” he mumbled.

The screen faded to the credits, and Dick turned to the group.

“So? What do you think?”

“Slow.”

“Nobody has any sense.”

“Are any of the characters actually likable?”

He frowned. “Okay, okay, so the first episode isn’t the best. I swear it gets better. Back me up here Barb.”

Barbara nodded. “He’s right, it takes a few episodes to build the characters up and we see some genuine action. But by mid-season, I swear you’ll be hooked. And then we’ll get to season two and the best characters will arrive.”

“Hey,” Dick exclaimed, pointing a finger at her. “No spoilers.”

“I thought it was fun,” Marinette offered. “It’s very clearly a kid’s show, but I don’t think that’s a bad thing.” She wasn’t going to say each and every person in the room had childhood traumas, and a show full of lighthearted fun was probably just what they needed. She could think it, but she wouldn’t say it.   

“Thank you, Marinette,” said Dick with a smile.

“I rather enjoyed the elderly tea drinker,” intoned Alfred. “He’s more than he appears to be.”

“Uncle Iroh? Yeah, he’s the best!” commented Barbara. "But everyone is great." 

“Alright, episode one finished, nine more to go.”

“Let’s hope it’s more enjoyable than the last,” uttered Damian, a chorus of agreement followed his statement, but when the show started up everyone grew quiet again.

Marinette was sure whatever happened next, it was bound to be interesting.

Tag List (Although it is on ao3 too) 

@m3owww​ @your-resident-chimken-nuggie​  @loveswifi​ @fusser90​@animegirlweeb​​ @ihavehomeworkbutistillhere​​