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lokisgoodgirl · 3 months ago

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Lies Like Liquid [Loki x Reader]

A link to my Masterlist is HERE Summary: Loki's typical antics at a party hit different. (w/c 2.5k) Warnings: 18+ only. Smut. Loki x Female reader. Snippy Loki/ enemies to lovers. Mild jealousy. Mild angst.

The crowd blurred as you wobbled on your heels towards the bar, trying to look casual. Rogers, Natasha, Clint—all of them with their heads thrown back at some perfectly timed joke while music thumped in your ears.

Loki leant against the polished marble counter—the soft amber bulbs around the mirror making his watchful eyes shine; immaculately tousled hair drifting down his shoulders.

He lifted a martini to his lips and sipped gently, the smoulder fixed on you.

One elbow rested on the bar, his ankles crossed, his body impossibly long and lean and wrapped in an expensive suit that was just the right side of tight. No tie tonight, just an open collar with a triangle of milky skin that you wanted to graze your teeth against as his eyes rolled back and a gurgle of your name choked from his throat—

Don’t talk to him. Don’t embarrass yourself. Don’t look at him; that’s what he wants. But your heart rattled faster as his cologne prickled deep inside your nostrils: warm, spiced, filthy.

“You look particularly agreeable tonight, Agent,” Loki said as you propped your elbows on the bar, eyeing your cleavage carefully in the mirror. The god’s stare traced your profile as intricately as though it were his fingers. “Did you do something with your hair? Wash it, perhaps?” “You’re one to talk, Agent,” you said, tongue lingering on the T.

Out of the corner of your eye, the god stiffened. He hated all that Agent stuff. Resented it. Except when he was curling the word around his own tongue, ready to spit in your directing with his dumb, mind-numbingly sexy voice—

“Nevertheless,” he said, strained, ‘that colour suits you.” “Black?” “Mmm.” “Everyone suits black.” Loki chuckled softly, sliding the base of his martini glass closer across the bar. His body followed. “Not so, Agent. In fact, my brother looks particularly ghastly. Deceased, in fact. You look rather…” “Yes?” Your breath hitched as Loki bent ever-so-slightly to your ear, heat skating down your cheek. “Hot,” he whispered, making one syllable stretch to two. A tingle rushed over your body. You turned fractionally just as the shit-eating, devastatingly attractive smirk spread across Loki’s lips. The one Stark used in the ad reels. The one that the public loved; and the one that you loathed—even if you did have a screenshot of it on your phone for masturbation purposes. Needs must. He might be a dickhead, but you had eyes.

“What do you want, Loki?”

He pressed a hand to his chest, wounded. “Want? Darling, you came to me.”

“I came for a drink—you were in the way. It’s the only way to numb you out.” His jaw dropped a touch, affronted, but those eyes sparkled. Crystal sang as he swirled the fancy glass against marble and leant back, the buttons of his shirt straining as he let out a small, harassed sigh. “You really must try one of these, they’re quite terrible.” The tightness in your chest loosened. “The Starktini?” “The Starktini,” he confirmed sombrely. “Sherry instead of vermouth, can you believe it? What is he thinking. All the money in the realm, and no class.”

He took another sip, draining the glass, observing you through narrowed eyes. “Another one, Mr Laufeyson?” Fresh lipstick, ruffled hair, apron tied too tight, shirt unbuttoned to the tip of fancy lingerie. You rolled your eyes as Loki swivelled to face the waitress. “Please,” he said, low and unbearably smooth. “And one for my friend here, too. Particularly dirty, if you don’t mind.” “Of course Sir; I know the way you like it,” she said huskily, sliding her eyes to yours. You cocked an eyebrow as she sashayed to the liquor bottles further down the bar. “Particularly dirty?” you hissed. “Are you kidding me?” “Are you jealous?” Anger scorched up your spine. How dare he—standing there with his stupid, devastating cheekbones and muscles shifting beneath his shirt as he plucked the stem of a fresh glass from the waitress’s hand. Your eyes flickered to a small piece of paper stuck to the bottom, several looping numbers visible. Loki winked lightly at her as she moved to a pissed off looking Barton, peeling the paper off. “I’ll leave the two of you to…” You gestured in the air.

Loki straightened, swallowing hastily. He raised a finger, his brows rising. But you were already several steps deep into the crowd, pushing past a tipsy Rogers dancing the Macarena to a Scissor Sisters song. The bodice of your dress felt unbearably tight, party smoke clinging to the back of your throat like ash and making your eyes sting. A hand cupped your bicep. “You alright?” Wanda dipped, catching your eyes. You waved a hand, plastering on a smile. “Fine. I’m fine, just Loki being a—” “A delight, I’m sure,” Loki drawled. Even over the music, his voice was clear as glass. Wanda’s face scrunched, her gaze shifting over your shoulder. You whipped around, hoping your tits hadn’t shifted from the impeccable cleavage you’d assembled earlier. “Let me guess, this is the part of the dancefloor you want? Planning on standing here yourself, glowering at everyone having fun?”

Loki frowned, and for a moment, just one, you felt a sharp stab of guilt. He placed the martini glass on a small, round table to his left.

“Actually,” he said, unbuttoning a cuff and folding it up to the elbow. “I was going to ask if you wanted to dance.” Behind you, Wanda gasped. Loki Laufeyson did not dance. And certainly not with you.

There were many things you could say at this moment, do, in this moment while Loki Laufeyson folded the second sleeve up his muscled forearm up with skilful ease. Tell him to fuck off, give him the middle finger, laugh at him before he could laugh at you. Seconds shifted as you waited for the familiar smirk, but it didn’t come. He extended his hand.

Loki’s chin lowered, his eyes glimmering in light refracted from the disco ball, the hand cupped outward unmoving. And so, you took it. Wanda gasped again.

Loki’s thumb slid up your palm, pressing into the soft skin before guiding you gently across the dancefloor. Bodies moved, the room blurred for the second time that evening, but this time, a flutter rose in your belly as Loki turned and pulled you flush to his chest. Your cheek brushed his, hands knotted at his shoulder as the opening beats of Rosenfeld thumped through the speakers. Eyes sliding to Loki’s, you tried to stifle the urge to suck against his neck; absorb the deep scent of him that wafted from beneath his collar.

He began to sway. And then, his lips brushed your ear. “Move, Agent,” he said, deep and utterly filthy. Loki’s knuckles trailed down your spine, palm settling on your lower back and shifting in time with the grind of your hips. His hair grazed against your cheek as your bodies slid together, the satin of your dress water against his shirt. The world slid beneath you feet as Loki pushed you outwards, spinning on your heels, stars bursting in your mind. He pulled you to his chest with a soft thump and the muscle beneath your breasts shook under his chuckle. “I thought you couldn't dance—” “I can do anything, Agent,” he murmured, hands resting on your hips. His eyes narrowed lightly. “Anything.” You snorted, blowing a strand of his hair with it. It floated back, sticking to your mouth. Loki’s fingers slipped between you, pinching it away. His thumb grazed over the plump of your lower lip. “Do you believe me?” It struck you in this moment how inconceivable it was that Loki was grinding against your stomach; that you were shifting in time with it, your hips swaying against the hard expanse of his hips. That you hadn’t punched him in the face yet.

“I believe that you’re full of shit? Does that count?” You half-hoped he couldn’t hear you, but the twitch of Loki’s lips proved he did. God, you wanted to slam your pussy down on the meat of the thigh sliding against your leg. You wanted to yank his hair down and kiss him right on his poisonous mouth as he pushed his femur against your clit; edging you into a shuddering mess hanging in his arms like a doll. A warm flush slid between your legs.

Loki spun to the side, and the world upended. He’d swept you into a dip, his face inches from yours, and his eyes rising slowly from your lips to your eyes. Somewhere, Rogers whooped.

And there it was…the shit eating smirk.

You snapped to reality, pushing against Loki’s shoulder. He brought you upright with a deep crease slicing through his forehead and mumbled something as you pushed through the crowd, Do It For Me ringing in your ears.

Fuck, fuck, fuck.

You grabbed a Starktini from the bar, necking it and ignoring Barton’s yelling before making your way to the fire exit. The balcony was too crowded. Cold air hit like a slap, rippling over your bare shoulders and up the flounce of skirt. Your fingers curled against the fire escape, forehead resting against your hands. Fuck. You’d let him get under your skin. You’d promised it wouldn’t happen again.

“I lied.” Your ankle gave way, heel snapping through the grate and sending you wavering to the guard rail. Suddenly Loki’s arms were around you, but you flapped him away. “Piss off, Loki,” you gasped, gripping the rail. “I’m fine. Jesus…you scared the shit out of me.” The angles of Loki’s face were illuminated in moonlight: brows lowered; mouth drawn tight. You sighed. “What do you want?” “I lied,” he said again. Now you remembered. “Well, what’s new? It’s your thing.” He frowned. “Well, it is,” you said, exasperated. “Never with you.” His eyes were a storm of wretched midnights, but his jaw trembled. You noted the strain of his shirt buttons, the creases forming with each deep, measured breath. A tremor passed through his features as he said. “Before, when I said I could do anything—I lied.” “Oh?” “I couldn’t hold on to you.” Your heart dropped somewhere around your knees. “Well, yeah, I guess. It was about more than just the dancing though, you know that, right?” “Mmm.”

In the time it took to look up, Loki was standing in front of you; the heat from his chest radiating the space between your bodies. He licked his lips, and they shaped words you never thought you’d hear. “Is it too late for us?” he asked softly.

“Loki…” “A month is a long time to spend with only one’s thoughts for company.” “Hardly. You were on a mission with Barton and Lang.” “Mentally alone, if not physically. You should hear the things they consider stimulating conversation. Do you know what a blumpkin entails?” He waited, a shadow flitting across his face. “Because I do.” You bit your lip, chest shaking with ill-advised laughter, and when you looked up, Loki’s smile was waiting. The real one. And then, your throat tightened. “You took the waitress’s number.” “Did I?” Loki’s voice went up an octave. “How strange,” he mused as a long finger tapped at his chin. “I distinctly remember not taking her number. In fact, I believe it might still be on the bar. Perhaps Lang will find it—perhaps he’ll finally experience the blumpkin he seeks.” “You winked at her.”

Something shifted inside you as the words shaped your tongue; thin threads of hope winding snug around your insides, the lie of your indifference circling like liquid down a drain. Loki shrugged lightly. “I had to give her something. What was I to do? The woman was clearly smitten—and I’m nothing if not benevolent.”

You rolled your eyes again. “Don’t…” he said, stepping closer.

One arm rose against the wall behind you, his skin silver in moonlight. “You know how that drives me to the brink of sanity.” “Maybe that’s what I want.” “Is it?” His eyes flashed, gaze dropping to your lips. “Well, it’s working.” Your chest ached with the effort of holding in the need to hyperventilate. This was everything you’d wanted as you lay in bed alone, everything you hadn’t dared hope for. That he would fight for you. And yet…With Loki, there was always an ‘And yet’.

But tonight, you didn’t want to think about that. Not yet.

Like a dream, you fingered the open collar of Loki’s shirt, grazing a nail across the exposed skin. He shivered. “Darling,” he whispered, and then, your lips were on his. One kiss slipped into the next like words, the groans deep in his throat and the fingers winding in your hair like blazing starlight. “Up, up,” you gasped between kisses.

Loki obliged, large hands dipping to your thighs and hoisting you against the polished outer walls of Stark Tower with a squeak. He fumbled with the line of your underwear, a mumbled fuck it preceding the warm fizz of his magic against your skin. Your fingers ripped at the buttons of his suit trousers, delving for the unbearably hard cock pressing against your cunt. Every vein, every velvet ridge, every inch that made him whimper when you traced it with your tongue. Loki’s breath was heavy, misting against your cheek as he breached with a broken chant of your name. Your head fell back against the wall, his mouth working down the valley of your throat as his hips rolled, filling you. “Loki, god…yes,” you panted to the darkened sky. He mumbled something unintelligible against your skin as your fingers twisted in his hair and the part of yourself that hoped this could be real burned brighter. There was nothing but here—nothing but the press of his flat stomach, the feel of his fingertips curling into your thighs and the seal of his cock unwinding your doubts with every thrust.

“Gods, I never meant to—” You silenced him with a kiss, delving into him with insatiable hunger. I never meant to push you away. I never meant to break your heart. It could wait. Orgasm sparked deep in your belly, rippling like a lit match from gasoline. Your legs tightened around his hips, forcing his cock deeper with an obscene squelch. “Faen, kvinne,” Loki grunted, one palm flying to the wall behind you and squeaking down metal. He bucked up, bottoming out a final, shattering time. Climax ripped through your body like a knife through leather, arms flying around his neck and pulling him close. His belt buckle was ice against your heated thighs, the grind of his hips flattening you to the wall. The god’s groans grew tight; urgent, something new stringing along his back muscles shifting under the drag of your fingernails. “Forgive me,” he sighed. You wondered if he’d stop himself tumbling over the edge if you didn’t. But the time for lies was over. “I forgive you,” you whispered, sucking his earlobe between your teeth. Loki’s guttural groan as he filled you with his cum was the world sliding beneath your feet, breaking apart and starting anew.

Tags in comments ❤️

#loki x reader #loki smut #loki fanfiction #loki laufeyson #loki fanfic #loki imagine #loki x reader smut #loki x yn #loki x you #loki x you smut #loki x female reader #loki x female reader smut #loki oneshot #loki odinson x reader

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sakuravalelp · 4 months ago

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Don't eat anything else - Part 2 - DP X DC

Previous part

Masterpost

This is the only chapter where I'll tag people. Please, if you want to follow the story from this point on, follow the master post :).

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

"You both should stop eating the food." Came Babs voice through the comms. "Danny asked Tim to not eat anything else. We suspect the food may content poison."

Bruce subtly shared a look with Cass before returning to nodding at Masters' proud rambling about his latest contract. They had both stopped eating long ago. The soup was good; Masters’ words about Danny being a good cook weren’t a lie. However, Bruce couldn’t identify the chunks of meat in the soup.

He initially thought it was pork, though the texture seemed somewhat similar to veal. By the fourth piece of meat he ate, he could confidently say he didn't recognize it. When he looked at Cass, he saw her using her spoon to play with one of the pieces of meat on the edge of the plate, a frown hidden behind her polite smile. He was sure then that the meat couldn't be one they had tasted before.

Bruce has tasted every kind of meat that should be available to Masters. He has even tasted exotic meats that Masters would probably never encounter, having represented humanity in intergalactic meetings as Batman. Not being able to identify the meat discouraged Bruce from eating more, and it seemed to have had the same effect on Cass. They had kept their food mostly untouched, using the excuse of waiting for Tim and Danny to return before eating. It was a good call; the meat being poisoned could be the reason it was unrecognizable.

"If any of you feel any symptoms, turn off your comm." None of them made a move to do so, and after a couple of minutes Babs continued, "I'll call Bruce in 10 minutes to create an excuse for you guys to leave."

Bruce would have liked to think that they had not yet consumed enough poison for it to affect them, but there's always the possibility of it being a delayed-effect poison. If Masters' plan with the poison was to kill them, then a delayed-effect poison would allow Masters to avoid being immediately connected to their deaths.

However, Masters shouldn’t have a reason to kill Bruce Wayne and his wards. Unless the man had discovered that they were investigating his contracts, which Bruce doubted. It was more likely that the poison was some sort of chemical restraint or chemical submissive, which would explain why Masters' contracts always seemed to end ridiculously in his favor. It would be easy to make such deals with someone who was drugged to be more agreeable with you.

Not that Bruce would be willing to take the risk to find out, especially with Cass having also ingested the tainted meat. He was glad he had brought the poison antidote kit with him. Despite this, Bruce wasn't sure about cutting the visit short, at least not for all of them. Tim had been gone with Danny for a while now, and if Danny had informed Tim about the food, they were probably exchanging information at the moment. Maybe Tim was in the process of offering Danny help, and Bruce didn't want to interrupt that.

"Renovations will be starting next week, and I'm sure the place will end up being quite popular," Masters finally finished his rambling.

"It sure sounds like it will. You certainly got yourself a great deal with Kensington, Mr. Masters. I'm curious, what is your negotiation method?" Bruce asked, hoping to gather more information.

Masters had been surprisingly adept at avoiding any conversation about the negotiations themselves, always sidetracking the discussion or giving half-answers. Drugs in the food was a good hypothesis and would be the best outcome for them, as such substances usually shouldn’t take too long to get out of their system.

Yet, it didn't explain how Masters' business partners seemed to stay committed to their contracts long after they were made. The furthest they had gotten from them was confusion about how they had reached the point where they accepted the contract's conditions. However, they all seemed convinced they had gotten the best outcome possible, despite obviously getting the short end of the stick.

It pointed to something besides drug usage. Maybe Masters got blackmail material from them while they were drugged? It would be easier to draw conclusions if Masters had even the smallest slip about it.

Masters smiled, taking a sip from his wine. "Ah, it takes years of practice, Wayne. It isn't something one can learn in a day, and only those with the capacity can master it," he said. Then, before Bruce could ask any follow-up questions, he continued, "Now, Daniel and young Mr. Drake sure seem to be taking their time."

"Oh, that doesn't surprise me," Bruce said, shaking his head with a fond smile, playing farther into his "Brucie" persona while lamenting the lost opportunities to get more leads on what Masters was doing. "They're around the same age. Surely they got distracted talking about whatever is of interest to kids their age these days."

"I would be glad if my godson got along so well with your son, Mr. Wayne," Masters said with a practiced smile, though a hint of calculation flickered in his eyes. He gestured vaguely with his wine glass, his tone deceptively sympathetic. "The loss of his family hasn't been easy for him, and building a connection with someone like Mr. Drake could be beneficial. However, it is quite rude to leave the guests waiting. As his guardian, I must address this. I’ll go search for them." Masters stated, standing up from his seat.

Luckily, Bruce didn't need to interject to stop Masters from interrupting his son's conversation with Danny, since the two boys appeared by the door as if summoned by Masters' comment. Danny visibly tensed the moment he spotted Masters standing in his place.

"Daniel, it's good you're finally back. I was about to go search for you," Masters said, throwing Danny a stern look.

Danny opened his mouth, probably about to apologize for the wait, but Tim beat him to it.

"So sorry, Mr. Masters. I had to take a shower before changing clothes."

"Oh, don't worry about it, Mr. Drake," Masters said as he looked Tim up and down, evaluating if what Tim was saying was true. His eyes lingered on Tim's wet hair for a moment, and the tension in his eyes relaxed a bit. "It is Daniel's fault for throwing the soup on you. Now, shall we continue with the dinner?" Masters sat once more on his chair.

"Should—" Danny started, slightly stuttering when Masters' eyes returned to him. "Should I serve new portions? Since the ones on the table are probably cold by now?" the intensity of Masters gaze increased with every word Danny said. In response, Danny lowered his gaze to the floor, and shifted nervously.

Danny's voice was way too small by the end of his sentence, but Bruce could sense some hidden urgency in his tone. Remembering that Danny was the one who had warned them about the food, Bruce could infer that he was trying to further prevent them from eating it. It gave Bruce the impression that Masters had also caught onto that fact, given how tense the man was.

He was grateful for the kid doing their best to protect them, but lamented putting them in a position where they had to risk confronting their abuser. Bruce really hoped Tim had convinced Danny to leave with them. It shouldn't be difficult to create a reasonable invitation for Danny after Masters' comment about how he was isolating himself.

"Good idea," Cass said with a gentle smile directed at Danny before Masters could make any move.

Masters' eyes narrowed slightly, but then he nodded. "Very well. Daniel, go ahead."

As Danny hurried to the kitchen, Bruce shared a subtle glance with Tim, who was retaking his seat beside Cass. Unfortunately, instead of the nod indicating that they could get Danny to leave with them if they created the opportunity, Tim just shrugged. It wasn't the sign for Danny refusing help, but the one for things being more complicated than they seemed. Bruce sighed, and before Danny returned from the kitchen, his phone rang. He excused himself to answer Babs' call, lamenting not being able to take Danny with them.

-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Bruce came back from his brief call with Babs with a worried face that Cass knew wasn't the one he made when actual "family emergencies" happened. It was exagerated and dramatic, it screamed "something terrible had happened," and was perfect for this kind of situations. Bruce quickly ushered Cass and Tim out, apologizing to Masters for the hasty departure. They barely had time to say goodbye to Danny, who had hurried back from the kitchen after Masters had shouted about seeing off the guests.

Cass noticed a subtle shift in Danny’s demeanor as they prepared to leave. His shoulders dropped slightly, and there was a fleeting look of relief in his eyes. However, that relief was overshadowed by the palpable fear that clung to him; his tense posture betrayed the anxiety he was trying to hide. It was hard to leave him behind, and Cass almost ran back when she caught sight of Vlad’s possessive hand on Danny’s shoulder and his venomous, angry eyes as she was walking out the door.

As soon as they were in the car, Tim immediately began checking the vehicle and himself for hidden microphones, with Bruce and Cass following his lead with little more than a raised eyebrow. Tim’s decision to search for bugs made sense once he explained that Danny’s room had been bugged,

"Honestly, Danny's so careful with his actions and words everywhere, I wouldn't be surprised if the whole property is bugged."

The drive back to the house they had rented was tense, the atmosphere in the car thick with unspoken concerns. Tim decided to use the ride home to update them on what he had seen. In turn, Bruce spoke about the dinner with Masters, detailing their regrettable failure to extract any additional information from the man. The evening ultimately boiled down to the suspicion that the food had been poisoned. Cass remained silent, not feeling up to talking.

She had her doubts about the food being poisoned; even if the poison hadn't shown any symptoms, her past training should have allowed her to identify it if she had consumed it. It seemed unlikely that Masters possessed a poison so sophisticated that she couldn’t detect it, and the thought only deepened her unease. She though back to how their hosts acted at the start of the dinner.

Danny looked like he was carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. His eyes darted nervously between them and Masters, his hands trembling slightly as he served the food. The guilt and fear radiating from him were almost palpable, as if he believed he was committing an unforgivable sin by offering them the meal.

Masters, however, didn’t seem like he was planning to poison them. He behaved more like Damian’s classmates had when they once tried to trick him into eating non-vegan food at a gala. His smile was too easy, his gestures too casual, like someone who thought they were pulling off a harmless but cruel prank. It felt like he was purposely feeding them something he knew was outside their comfort zone and ethical beliefs, testing their reactions with a detached amusement.

From the very beginning, Cass had felt a deep discomfort about the food. The way Masters and Danny acted around it had set off her internal alarms. When she took the first bite of the meat, something immediately felt off. The texture was unfamiliar, and the taste was oddly unsettling—not in a way that clearly indicated poison, but in a manner that was subtly disturbing, she didn't know what she was eating. It made her skin crawl, and she couldn’t bring herself to take another bite.

The car coming to a stop in the house’s garage jolted Cass out of her thoughts. They all exited the vehicle, and Jason’s motorcycle was parked beside them as he opened the door. tightly clenched jaw. Like the rest of them, he was frustrated by their inability to take Danny with them, but he wasn’t vocalizing it because he was also worried about what they had eaten.

Once the door was opened, Bruce was ready to rush into his bedroom to get the poison antidote kit, but Jason stopped him,

"Hold on old man, I want to know what the note the kid gave Tim says. It may even say what poison was used; save us time."

"Mnn" Bruce said with a slight nod, and Tim started unfolding the paper in response.

The folded paper was as small as a pinky, but once unfolded, it revealed a full letter-sized sheet, and the text filled at least half of it. Tim skimmed the text as he usually did before reading aloud, but his face quickly drained of color. His eyes widened in horror and disgust. Instead of reading aloud, he kept running his eyes over the first line repeatedly, his gaze darting between Bruce and Cass. His jaw was clenched tightly, and he struggled to keep his composure, fighting against the bile rising in his throat. Cass couldn’t help but frown deeply, a growing sense of dread settling in as she wondered what the paper could possibly contain.

"Forgot how to read, replacement?" Jason said, his tone lacking its usual edge. He stood beside Tim, his expression a mix of uncertainty and concern, unsure whether to reach for the paper or not.

Tim takes a shudering breath, and Cass herself can't help but shift in her place, her anxiety growing, as they all wait for Tim to gain back his voice and finally read what Danny's note says.

"The meat on the food is human meat." Tim finally says with a strained voice.

There's a moment of silence in the room. Cass keeps her eyes on Tim, hoping, pleading, to find any signs that what she heard is wrong, but Tim only repeats the sentence. Her stomach churns violently as bile rises in her throat. Without effort, she sinks to the ground, her legs giving out as she begins to vomit. The pounding of her heart fills her ears, as black dots fill her sight and her hands tremble uncontrollably. She is dimly aware of Bruce doubling over beside her, and the sound of Jason hitting the wall.

She ate human meat. It may have just been a bite, but she ate human meat. The dinner had been made from human meat. Her mind recoiled at the abhorrent thought. The thought of the soup they were served makes her vomit once more. She gasps for air, her body shaking as she fights against the rising tide of revulsion, desperately trying to rid herself of the lingering taste and the horrifying realization of what they ingested. She feels Tims hand doing smalls circles in her back and realizes that tears had been falling from her face.

/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-/-

Danny's hands trembled as he injected himself with another dose of ectoplasm. The shaking made the syringe jab painfully as he withdrew it, causing drops of blood and ectoplasm to fall to the floor while the injury quickly healed. Ten minutes of continuous electrical shocks wasn’t the worst punishment he had received from Vlad, but it had the most severe drawbacks. His body had a harder time recovering from electrical damage than from any other kind of harm, and Vlad often exploited this weakness.

He took a deep breath as the last of the Lichenberg marks disappeared from his legs and arms, leaving only the ones he’d gotten from his death. He sat on the bathroom floor, staring at the ceiling, his legs and arms still trembling. He wasn’t sure if the tremors were from the electrical aftershocks or his own anxiety. Vlad had been furious about his little stunt with the soup and had once again reminded him that they weren't eating Danny’s friends because he was such a "compassionate guardian."

The reminder had thrown Danny into a couple of panic attacks once he was allowed to return to his room. He thanks he's advanced dissociative abilities for not having those panics attacks in front of Vlad. He doesn't wan't to know how the man would try to exploit that.

But even as his whole body trembles and aches, he doesn’t regret his decisions. This is his only chance for things to change. The Waynes are a powerful family with connections to the Justice League. While the League has not interfered with what has happened in Amity Park up till now, they might get involved if the Waynes reach out to them. It’s wishful thinking, and he’s risking a lot, but this gut-wrenching dinner has become the first glimmer of hope he’s had since his family’s death, and he’ll hold onto it with his half-life.

Once he's body stops trembling and he's head feels a bit clearer, he needs to text Sam and Tucker. He'll depend on them for this to not backfire on all denizens.

#dc x dp crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp #dcxdp #dpxdc #batfam #bruce wayne #cassandra cain #danny fenton #Sorry for the long wait #I got overwhelmed by the amount of people #And then felt that nothing was good enough to publish T^T #I still feel this couls be better #But I hope you all like it #Danny's plan goes a bit further than only getting the Waynes out #Tim couldn't get himself to read the whole note #He got stuck on the first line #I tried to add more descriptions of corporal expressions for Cass's POV #And a more analytical but worried for Bruce's POV

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karmaphone · 2 years ago

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#yeah I'm sure he would Lizzy.#pride and prejudice #this is in response to her dad teasing her about being a jilted lover to the Perfectly Agreeable Mr Wickham

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mydearlybeloathed · 1 month ago

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── 𝐖𝐄𝐃𝐃𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐂𝐑𝐀𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐒

𝐬𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: you're less than pleased to be marrying the arrogant noble your parents arranged for you. On the day of your wedding, you cross paths with a pirate who seems keen on ruining your big day, and you couldn't be more thrilled.

𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: luffy x fem!reader

𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝 𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 8k

𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐭𝐞𝐧𝐭: minor alabasta spoilers, arranged marriage, I kind of went ham on the descriptions and readers backstory in general, violence, mother issues

𝐚/𝐧: *arises from where i fell off the face of the earth and throws down an offering* greetings.

𝐎𝐏 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

“Respectfully…” You took a moment to compose yourself, sipping from your teacup and raising your eyes to settle on your soon-to-be husband. “You are the scum of the earth, Mr. Toleson.”

Mr. Toleson, quite used to this, only rolled his eyes and moved to pour you more tea. “Pray tell me what I have done to receive such contempt, Miss?”

That question could not easily be answered. Did your contempt stem from your lack of choice, or from Mr. Toleson’s less than agreeable disposition? Or perhaps from society’s overall decision that whatever may happen, you should sit still and be merry. Who cares if your marriage is loveless and your life unfulfilled?

You dropped another sugar cube in your tea and stirred it around. Maybe it was everything all at once. And Mr. Toleson’s… superiority in age didn’t help matters either. The rickety man just reached his late fifties, his hair reaching a color not yet gray, but most definitely not the brown of his youth. You’d seen pictures. He was a handsome boy twenty years ago, when you were but a lemon-shaped babe in the womb.

“I had plans,” you answer at last. “Plans that do not include you.”

His eyes twinkled like the idea was preposterous, his mustaches curling with his lips. Mr. Toleson gazed at you like a child, only discomforting you even further about the idea of sharing a marriage bed. “What plans, Miss?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you snapped back. “I’m going to be chained to you all my life. Even after you die, which I assume will be soon given the state of you, I’ll be forced into widowhood. I look awful in black, you know, and pretending to grieve would do nothing for my mental state—oh, where are you going?”

Mr. Toleson had thrown down his napkin, face hot and brows screwed together. He peered down his nose at your poor attempt at hiding a smile. “When you’re my wife,” he said, tone even and dark, gaze even more so. “You’ll do well to learn manners, Miss.”

There was a threat in there somewhere, for certain, and you wouldn’t give him the satisfaction of a response. Mr. Toleson huffed out his too-small nose and spun on his heel, barking at a poor attendant to fix the table’s preposterous flower arrangement.

You gave the young boy a sorry look and stood to leave when a sharp voice filtered in from the next room.

“Mr. Toleson! Where are you going—?” Your mother’s shrill tone cut short, a growl of your name soon to follow.

“Shit.” You whirled on the attendant boy with a pointed finger. He froze, eyes wide as several petals fell loose onto the table. “Please,” you hissed, pressing your palms together. “Ypu must help me.”

The boy dropped the flowers back into the vase, splashing a bit of water. With a single nod, he beelined for the window, unlatching it and swinging it open. You rushed over, his hands pushing you outside. “This is the only way out, my lady.”

“I’ll fall—wait!” You were swinging your legs over the sill before you realized what you were doing. Heart pattering in your chest, you cast him a look, but he was already shutting the window and drawing the curtains behind you. “Oh, dear.”

Down below, about twenty feet down and beyond the hedged yard, were the streets of the city, carts pulled by mules and passersby tracking dirt and mud and other materials across the dirt roads. You glanced around the outer wall of Mr. Toleson’s house. A trellis ran down the side just one window away, which you could use to climb down to then jump into the hedges. Stealing a breath, you began to inch along the window sill, setting a delicate foot on the wide declarative trim running from each window to the next. When it didn’t crumble beneath your foot, you went on, barely breathing as you clung flush to the wall.

Reaching the window, precariously making a step up to the next sill, you nearly tipped backward when you caught your mother’s back through the window. Feet slipping, you scurried down the trellis, losing your grip every few seconds and clinging to the wall. Eventually, you touched the earth, dusting off your dress as you faced the garden wall. Ivy ran all along it, but you’d done enough exploring whilst avoiding Mr. Toleson’s advances to know that a gate hid behind the green. It led right into a damp, drippy alleyway. You cringed down at your custom-made shoes, costing a fortune for certain. Sacrifices had to be made, and today, your shoes paid the price.

Your wedding was a day away, and with it the end of your happiness. Not that anyone cared about your happiness those days. Expelling a sigh, you wandered the streets till nightfall, returning to the grand house in the dead of night.

Your mother paced the entry hall when you stepped inside, the tall door booming shut behind you. Her eyes were on you like a hawk, her words sharp knives. “Where have you been?”

“Uptown,” you drawled, tossing your now dirtied shoes across the carpet. “Downtown. Midtown. Where haven’t I been is the real question.”

She looked close to exploding, cheeks inflated and lips pinched together. “You embarrassed me—You embarrassed Mr. Toleson!”

Waving an absent hand, “I couldn’t care less, woman. Now let me be before I drop dead of melancholy.”

A stiff utterance of your name struck the air, the impact on your back fleeting as you swept upstairs. Again and again, she cried your name till it sounded more like a beg than an order, and it halfway made you desire to face her. But facing your mother and having her see you had long been a futile task.

Her voice struck your back until you reached the top of the stairs and darted down the hall, whipping open your bedroom door and slamming it back behind you. Swiftly locking it, you clawed at your chest, skin constricting and choking you out. That woman… your mother could never understand.

Once, you hoped maybe she could. Your oldest servant, a frail woman who’d been serving your mother for a decade, told you that your mother went through the same unfortunate situation as you. She walked an aisle leading to shackles, just as you would at tomorrow’s soon-coming dusk. But time had turned that woman cold, making her hellbent on sentencing you to the same fate.

Eyes scanning the room, you gave a shaken sigh. Tomorrow you would be forced into a similar room, but that one you would share with Mr. Toleson. Your skin crawled. “At least he only wants my money. He cares for nothing else.”

You slipped into bed, unsure of the next good sleep you’d receive.

જ ⁀ ➴

Up with the sun, you dressed quickly and slipped out of the house, careful not to make a sound as you exited onto the street. There was ample time between sunrise and the ceremony, each second passing with a daunting swiftness. Soon, the morning bells rang throughout the city, signaling that noon had fallen.

You stared up at the sky as the chimes fell silent, chest constricting. This walk around the city had done nothing to quell your distress. In anything, it made it worse; people on the street beamed and congratulated you on sight, offering you flowers and well-wishes. You received them all with practiced kindness, even as doom lurked behind you.

“Just a few more hours,” you mumbled, taking refuge in a damp alley. “I can visit the old pond… perhaps the frogs will be out.”

Nodding, you slipped back out with a ducked chin, walking quickly through the crowds until so little as three people were around and the the stone streets faded into soft dirt paths underfoot. Through sparse trees and lonely wood, you made your way to the duckpond on the outskirts of the city. Not a soul around; perfect.

You plopped yourself on the ground and hugged your knees to your chest, oblivious to the dust curling around you. Maybe, if you stayed right there all day, no one would find you. You could sit through the whole ceremony—through the whole year, till weeds crawled up your limbs and rocks were surfaced by the winds. You’d become part of this pond when the rain fills it beyond the banks, dissolving into an urban legend of what happens to heartbroken young women.

You smiled for the first time in many weeks. That fate sounded as lovely as anything.

The reverie broke as voices crept up behind you. Peeking over your shoulder, you spotted two entities: the first being the constable, and the second farther behind him. This group of people was more like a gaggle, or perhaps a rabble, their boisterous tones causing the constable to cast them a glare.

You jumped to your feet before he could face forward again and darted toward to big oak tree you used to climb in your youth, skidding to a halt right behind it. The constable was good friends with your fiance and would surely escort you back home the instant he saw you.

“Are you sure we can fish here?”

“I’m sure no one’s told us we can’t.”

“Sanji!”

One of the voices, presumably the one called Sanji, laughed in reply while their counterpart grumbled under their breath. Part of you felt the need to jump out and warn them against it, because surely the constable would be quick to apprehend them. But then he would also surely apprehend you.

“Sirs,” the gruff voice of the constable barked, right on cue. “Fishing in this pond is strictly prohibited. It’s for viewing only by law.”

The one called Sanji clicked his tongue. “Is there some sort of sign we missed? Because there’s no warning stopping us.”

Oh, dear. “I’m here to stop you. Now please, put away your tack and gear.” There were a few indignant huffs, but no rustling of a confrontation. Good, good…

“Right. Now, have either of you gentlemen spotted a young woman about?” The constable proceeded to give your exact description, spiking a panic within you. The search party had already begun. “No? Drat. Perhaps I’m at the wrong pond… Good day to you…”

You remained behind the tree for five long minutes, listening to the constable’s steps fade away and the conversation between the two men go on. Peeking out, you saw a tall skinny blond and a man with dark skin at the pond’s edge, fishing of all things.

Puffing your cheeks, you stepped out with crossed arms. “He told you it's not allowed!”

Their heads swiveled around, eyes wide and startled. The blond was the first to recover, his hold on the fishing rod slackening as an easy smile slid across his face. “My, my, what kind of nymph are you?”

Your cheeks warmed as his eyes scanned you up and down. “The angry kind.”

The other man quirked a brow, quicker than the other. “Was that guy looking for you?”

Alarms went off in your mind. “Never mind that, just don’t fish in my pond.”

“Whatever you say~”

“Sanji!”

Satisfied, you trudged off, letting their bickering be drowned out gradually. With the knowledge that the whole city now knew to look out for you, probably thinking the aloof noble girl just lost track of time, you took the long way around, slinking through dirty alcoves you once called your kingdom some years ago.

This whole city was your empire, in your mind. You and the other young girls and boys traipsed about without a care, creating your own world only the lot of you could see. You, of course, were high empress of all alleyways.

Growing up like this meant your mighty empire was toppled. All your old friends had new lives now, time ticking by with mundane tasks and masks to keep up. Many of them would attend your wedding, but they might as well be strangers now. Such was the way of your city. You get old and you lose your life.

A subtle burn welled up behind your eyes as you rounded a dark corner and found the old crates you’d formed into a palace, untouched and frozen in time as the curling alleys of the city grew dusty from neglect. You stopped short at the sight, quickly snapping back to reality and darting away, running as fast as you could to get away. Left and right, you were reminded of how expansive these alleys really were, and how easy it was to get lost in them.

Not that you would ever get lost; you’d cling to your memories as long as possible. You knew this place like the back of your hand, so it was a surprise when instead of a dead end, you turned to find a long alley leading out to the market. The scent of the baker’s stall and sweet rolls being sold wafted down to you, providing a momentary calm—before that laugh broke it all down.

Creeping back around the corner, you waited for the laugh to stop, peering around to find that you weren’t alone. Near the mouth of the alley, a boy stood clutching his chest, laughter fading even as he glanced out onto the street. For just three whole seconds, you swore he was something out of a novel.

Pretty face scarred on one side, but it didn’t make him any less to look at. Hair windswept despite the stillness, clothes ratty in some places and newly stitched up in others. Whoever he was, you’d never seen him before, so where exactly did he come from?

“Hey.” You blinked widely, realizing quite too late that you’d been caught. Locked in severe eye contact, you ever so slowly retreated back around the corner, flattening yourself against the wall. Maybe if you didn’t breathe, he’d think he hallucinated and walk away.

“Hey,” that boy said again, closer now. “What’re you doing?”

You didn’t make a sound, flush against the wall as if trying to disappear even when his face appeared in your peripheral. He blinked, waiting for you to do something. “Why’re you being so weird?”

“I, well…” You glanced around, anywhere but his face. “I was taking a walk.” You tensed up, held your breath, and blurted, “I don’t talk to strangers!”

You stared hard at the ground, hoping that he’d think you were crazy and walk away, but then the boy laughed at you. Gasping softly, you raised your head and gazed at him softly, lips parted slightly. Nobody had ever laughed at you before, at least not to your face like this boy, heaving as his chuckles faded.

“You’re talking to me anyway.” He had you there. His eyes glinted despite the sun being obscured by the tall buildings.

“I…”

He thrust out his hand suddenly. “I’m Luffy.” His hand, his face. His hand, his face. Your eyes darted back and forth until you finally settled on his hand. Dirty, that was the first thing you noticed, and then the callouses. You’d only seen hands like that on a sailor.

You blinked back up at his face, locking in on his eyes. Sailors weren’t to be trusted. They took young girls’ hearts, along with something more personal, and set back off to sea. That’s what your mother said, but you had a feeling your mother had never seen someone like Luffy before. You’d never seen anyone like Luffy, so bright he could’ve been the sun itself. You took his hand quickly, shaking it firmly, and introduced yourself.

Luffy chuckled. “Now I’m not a stranger.”

You couldn’t help but crack a grin. “I suppose not. Do you sail?”

“How’d you know?” Luffy tilted his head, leaning back on his heels, and you forgot how to speak. Luffy wasn’t too bad to look at. He was unlike any of the handsome boys you’d seen in court, sure, but that didn’t matter. Perhaps it endeared you more. Luffy, whoever he was, was different from everything you knew.

“You hands, I suppose. They’re like a sailors’.”

His laugh was odd, like a shi-shi-shi sound, prompting a stifled snort out of you as well. “Yep! I’m a pirate!”

Instantly, your whole face dropped, frozen in place. “Oh… that’s… something.”

Pirates were very different from regular sailors. They stole and pillaged and plundered and did many other terrible deeds. Your great-grandfather had been killed by a pirate… but you’d never known him. It’s all hearsay. Besides, Luffy didn’t look like he would ever think of maiming you. He looked like your next good friend, even if just for now.

“Your crew is here, then?” you asked, moving to sit atop a set of crates along the wall. Luffy jumped as he followed, plopping in the dirt in front of you instead.

“Mhmm. They’re… somewhere.” He snickered. “We just left Alabasta, y’know.”

You leaned forward to gawk at him. “So you saw what happened? With Crocodile? It was crazy.”

Again with that strange laugh of his. “Yep. I’m the one who beat his ass into the ground!”

“You—huh?” Tilting your head, his smile infected you, tugging at your lips. “So, you’re the savior of Alabasta? Not that marine?”

You sat in awe as he told you everything, going so far back that you learned exactly how he met Princess Vivi. By the end of an hour, you were on the edge of your seat, knees snug against your chest as Luffy described it all in grand detail.

“Wow… that sounds amazing. Not the part where you nearly drowned in sand, but you know.” Resting your chin on your knees, “You must feel so… free out there.”

Luffy nodded quickly, eyes unfocused for a moment, staring at the unseen. “Yeah. It’s amazing.”

Your smile grew dim and melancholy. The bells of evening rang in the distance. “Thank you for telling me your story, Luffy. You didn’t have to do that.”

He shrugged one shoulder, his expression one you could only call cute. “You wanted to know… what’re you so sad for?”

You hummed, startled. “I’m not sad.”

“Are too,” he said, eyes narrowed. “So what is it?”

For some time, you didn’t say another word. Luffy stood now, hands planted on either side of yours knees as he stared right at you. It wasn’t threatening or seductive, simply curious in a way you’d never witnessed. Like he truly wanted to know. And so, you told him.

“I’m getting married. Today.” You shut your eyes and grimaced. “And I don’t want to, but I have no choice.”

“So… don’t?”

You reeled back. “Did you not hear me? I have to.” Luffy only tilted his head as you scoffed at the sky. “My only choice is to comply with the path set before me. If I stray too far… I can’t stray too far.”

You hardly realized how angry you’d gotten till Luffy’s finger poked at your forehead once, twice, three times. You blinked slowly. “What?”

“I don’t really get it,” he said. “But you seem pretty sure.” He was right in your face, oblivious to the fluster rising in your face. And then he smiled a beaming smile. “Hey, why don’t you—”

“There you are!” A coil formed in the pit of your stomach, eyes slowly drifting to the mouth of the alley. The constable stalked toward you looking as relieved as he was pissed off. “Your mother’s been sending everyone out for you, miss. Have you lost your mind?”

“Sorry, sir,” you mumbled, ignoring how Luffy stared at you all perplexed-like. “I’ll… I was looking for some flowers for the parlor. Didn’t find a patch in bloom. I’ll head back now.”

The constable stepped forth, not yet noticing Luffy. He began to loom over you, and only when Luffy inched closer to your side did the constable’s gaze flicker to him. Disgust was the only word to describe how the constable looked at Luffy. “Let me escort you home, miss. Wouldn’t want you to lose your way again.”

You looked between the two of them nervously. “Of course, sir.” You stood from the crate and moved to follow the constable, hoping beyond hope Luffy would forget the entire ordeal, for his sake. The constable was going to forget all about your new friend, if only Luffy stayed quiet.

“Hey.” You tightened every muscle in your body. “Who’s she marrying anyway?”

The constable jerked to a stop, his deepset brow furrowing.

“Only the most powerful man around,” the constable replied very carefully, very calculated. He sized the boy up. “She’s very lucky to be marrying Mr. Toleson.”

“Let’s go, sir,” you insisted, daring to hook your arm through the constable’s and nearly drag him away. He dug his feet in. “Introduce me to your friend, miss.”

“He’s—he’s not my friend,” you blurted, eyes glued to the ground. “Sir, let us go. I’ve made us late enough. I have to prepare—”

Luffy took a daring step forward. “You shouldn’t have to marry someone if you don’t want to.”

The constable gritted is teeth, hand closing around your arm. “What would you know about what she wants?”

“Let’s go—”

“She doesn’t like this Tole guy,” Luffy persisted. Your eyes pleaded with him, but he wasn’t looking at you, sight set on the tall man beside you. “So she shouldn’t marry him. Tole-y can find someone who actually likes him if he’s so desperate—”

“Shut. Up.” Dangerous. Your tone was dangerous, wide glare moreso. Luffy silently eyed you, looking right through to your soul. “Goodbye. We have to go. Places to be. Come, Constable.”

Halfway turned, the constable kept one eye on your friend, feet slowly following after you—when Luffy reached out, grabbed your shoulder, and tried to tug you to his side. You whipped around to smack him, but your palm swiped at air.

Luffy stood five feet back, his arm stretched beyond comprehension and latched onto your shoulder.

“What the…” Head foggy, you barely registered the click of a gun till it rose in your peripheral. Everything went by far too quickly, and suddenly you stared down the head of the constable’s pistol, gasping like you hadn’t a clue how you’d got there.

“Get out of here, Luffy,” you ordered, not taking your stare off the constable. “I won’t say it again.”

He was gone when you finally chanced a look over your shoulder. The constable swiftly took your arm in a vice and led you onto the street, holstering his gun and muttering, “Street rats have no place here.”

“Sea dog,” you corrected absently, quite out of your own head. “He’s a pirate, so, sea dog.”

As if that would cease his endless muttering.

You were shut inside your house and shuffled away to a sunny parlor, tended to by maids you’d known since birth, their chattering unable to draw you out of your stupor as they powdered your face and tightened a corset round your waist till the room started spinning.

Meanwhile, a pirate boy returned to his friends, not sparing their newly caught fish a second glance as he asked Robin if she’d heard anything about a wedding in the city. The archeologist grinned as if she knew precisely what had transpired in that alley, though she couldn’t possibly have.

At any rate, the notorious Straw Hat pirates now prepared to act on their captain’s whim, not one of them questioning when he said his “new friend” was in trouble.

જ ⁀ ➴

The carriage ride to the chapel was so you bumpy you were half convinced the driver did it on purpose. You sat wobbling from side to side, eyes glazed over, and you let your mind drift away—you became a specter, wandering blindly till you blinked, and you stood in a sunny side-room, waiting to be fetched for the altar.

Your arms like gooseskin, you peered into a spotless mirror despondently. Your hair was done up prettily, face caked in different powders and creams. The sickening scent of rose perfume surrounded on all sides. The dress fit nicely, not too tight, not too loose. Perfect. Not a thing was out of place.

It all set in at once; by the end of the hour you’d be Mrs. Toleman. Your mother would receive all the benefits, all the praise. She’d smile and really mean it. Your husband would be free from bankruptcy, your family’s massive inheritance given to him the moment you say, “I do.” You’d stand on his arm the rest of his life, the perfect ornament, so quiet and dull.

An older woman fussed over the tears dotting your lashes, roughly swatting them away with her handkerchief, chastising you for such childishness.

“If my daughter were in your position,” she said after nearly gauging your eye. “She’d be ecstatic.”

You gazed quite darkly. “Your daughter was in my position,” you whispered, causing her to freeze putting away her handkerchief. “I’m sure you recall her escaping to the circus very clearly.”

A sharp gasp. A drawn hand. Your mother stepped into the room, flustered beyond compare, and the maid resigned to fume quietly. You wished she would slap you. Perhaps the strike would redden your face so much that the whole thing was called off.

“Well,” your mother exasperated, eyes raking down your form. “I hope you’re ready. Look pleasant.”

She weaved an arm through yours as a bouquet of lilies was shoved in your hands. A sneeze crawled up your nose and died as you held your breath, for the next moment you faced two long and full rows of people you’d never met and would never see again.

Despite the petals and music and lovely weather, it felt very much like a funeral march. The empty faces of the guests chilled you to the bone, not one of them sparing even a grin. A few checked their watches. One boy tugged on a young girl’s pigtail, and the girl was swatted for disturbing the peace. A ginger girl fought with a green-haired male in one of the farther pews. Against the far wall a blonde caterer absently smoked a cigarette. Somewhere, a bird sounded like it was dying, crooning a sad song.

This damn city. These damn people. You’d die here, physically, spiritually, and mentally so. White hot panic welled up within you, but it was far too late to even think of darting for the door; you stood before your groom, gazing blankly into his chest.

You felt as if you were dying, a life so short flashing before your eyes as your hands were taken into the clammy grasp of Mr. Toleson. He wore no smile, no warmth upon his face. Only cold indifference. You hoped you looked the same, lest he spy your terror.

The officiator droaned on meaningless words, warbled by your dazed mind. Only when your hands were squeezed harshly did you refocus, blinking widely.

Clearing his throat, the officiator shuffled uncomfortably. “Do you take this man to be your husband?”

Were you at this bit already? Heart thundering, you didn’t dare to look at Mr. Toleson, panicked gaze flickering to the now bated audience. Every eye stared at you, boring into you fiercely, only worsening your condition.

“I…”

Mr. Toleson gripped you tightly, painfully. He gritted out just for you to hear, “You what? We haven’t got all day…”

“I–I…” A gulping breath. A flash of red ribbon and straw. Cutting your eyes across the room, you settled on a boy near the back of the pews, a grin emblazoned on his face. He caught your eye and held it fast. You hardly believed your eyes, yet understood in an instant.

“Miss,” said the officiator.

Luffy tilted his head, as if asking are we doing this? You chanced a flicker of a smile.

You ripped your hands from Mr. Toleson’s sweaty grip, eyes wide and childish smile inching across your face as the room filled with sharp gasps. Gaze flickering up to Mr. Toleson’s aghast expression, you lurched back three, four, five steps till your heel met the edge of the raised platform. As you slipped to the floor a hand settled on the small of your back. The caterer planted his feet beside you, face grim as he gritted down on his cigarette.

“Are you alright?” he muttered. You gave a quick nod.

The point of no return had come, and you’d taken the path once blocked by a landslide, the path you’d dismissed entirely just an hour ago. Your mother gasped your name, a hissed out word, drawing your gaze quickly. She was deathly pale, like she was about to be sick. No sympathy of yours rose to meet her, none at all, and the freedom of two words boomed from your chest.

��I don’t!”

Silence. You heaved in a breath of air, and no one said a word. Like time had stood still. A litheful, frightening laugh ripped through the church and everything sped up all at once.

“Why… you…” Mr. Toleson’s face rivaled the ripest of tomatoes. He hadn’t so much as taken a step when the caterer whirled around and kicked him right in the chest. He blew his hair out of his face and stomped out his cigarette, looking like he’d done this twelve hundred times before. You started to think he wasn’t a caterer at all.

“I’ve seen you before,” you thought aloud. Chaos erupted all around, guests rising from their chairs in a panic, and you just couldn’t put your finger on it. “Oh! You were at the pond!”

Sanji, that was his name. He dodged a punch from one of the quicker, bolder groomsmen, an easy smile on his face. He faced you with his hands shoved in his pockets. “That’s your priority, love?”

You flushed, whether from the tease or endearment, you didn’t know. “Well—”

“You!” your mother’s shrill voice cut the air. You turned just in time to catch her pouncing at you, her hand clawing for your arm. Her nails barely got close to scratching you when a hand branched out of her chest and drove her back by a vice around her neck. Somebody screamed as guests began a mad rush to escape the inevitable fight; everyone had the same guess—pirates.

You’d never been so happy, even with the disembodied hand issue.

Mr. Toleson rose to his feet, nursing his chest, his eyes aflame. He whirled on the groomsmen. “Don’t just stand there!”

Just like that they broke out of their daze. Not just the groomsmen; the constable shook himself out of his shock as several other burly men of the town rallied together.

You inched backward as dozens of eyes settled on you, heart quickening, when out of nowhere that ginger girl from before rushed up with a bow staff and gave several groomsmen severe head trauma. The green haired man drew out three swords. That other man from the pond jumped over a pew, a slingshot in hand. And a tall, graceful woman stared down your petrified mother.

Only those willing to put up a fight were left, leaving only the rougher men of the town and the pirates--Luffy's pirates.

Sanji flung an attacker off his back and sent the guy flying your way, wiping the smile from your face as you yelped and dodged. You scurried off to the side, nearly tripping head over heels in your dress, having to hike up your skirts as you twirled in and out of the swiftly rising rabble.

Luffy’s marksman remained unscathed at his vantage point, lining up a shot and letting it fly. You gasped delightfully when the constable was nailed right in the forehead and hit the floor unconscious. You found a place flush against the wall, and you beamed at the destruction.

Pews turned to splinters under the power of the swordsman. Refreshments scattered across the floor as the ginger was thrown into a table and jumped back up again. Flowers fluttered around as the raven haired woman used some kind of magic to extend her reach. And Luffy—he laughed through it all. People jumped at him with fists and clubs, yet he threw them all off like it was nothing. Perhaps to him it was.

You stifled another smile behind your hands. The people of your town were absolutely demolished by these pirates. These glorious, heroic pirates you would be thanking for the rest of your life—

“You did this.” In an instant your wrists were captured by your ex-fiancee. “Witch. Where’d you get the money to pay them, huh?”

“Let go,” you bit back, jerking away only for his hold to tighten, prepared for your escape this time.

He yanked you closer. “After everything I’ve done for your family—”

You spat in his eyes and kneed his crotch, watching satisfied as he crumbled to the floor. “Family my ass.”

You darted into the chaos without another word. Men lay unconscious every few steps, their bloody and bruised faces staring up at you. You tripped over someone’s leg, growled sharply, and took hold of your skirts. One by one you ripped off the layers of tulle, leaving you in your knee-length bloomers, dress reduced to the lacy bodice and shreds of fabric at your hips. Finally you yanked your heels off, hopping on one foot and then the other.

Right as you were about to drop your left shoe, the man of honor, some guy called Henry, made for you swiftly. Gasping, you gripped the toe of the heel and clubbed him over the head.

Someone grabbed your shoulder a second later. You shrieked and dropped to the ground, slipping out of the grip and rolling to the side. The swordsman appeared suddenly and cut the man down in one move. The body dropped beside you. You blinked, gasped, and let a delayed scream flee your lips. The swordsman reached to grab your wrist and hoisted you to your feet. “You okay?”

“Y-you killed him!” you cried.

“Relax,” he rolled his eyes. “I hit him with the hilt.”

Sure enough, the man only had a gash on his temple and some head trauma most likely. The swordsman looked you up and down briefly. “Watch out for the ero-cook lookin’ like that.”

You hardly cared if you looked indecent. “Where’s Luffy?”

He didn't get to answer—a laugh you quickly grew to recognize had you whipping around, eyes peeled.

His profile shone in the evening light bleeding from the windows. He stood with his head thrown back and eyes tightly shut, a blinding smile on his face. Transfixed, you wondered, not for the last time, if he was more than human.

When his laughter died down Luffy held his fists close to his chest and looked around as if searching for another fight, his gaze finding you. Your heart skipped, but his smile dropped deathly fast. You didn’t have the chance to wonder before his fist zipped a hair's breadth away from your cheek. You hit the ground instantly, head ducked between your knees. You might have remained there forever, wondering just what possessed him, if you were stupid for trusting him, overwhelmed by something akin to heartbreak—when two sandaled feet entered your sight.

“Hey,” he said, giving you deja vu. “What’re you doin’ on the floor?”

Eyes wide, chest heaving, you sprang to your feet and got nose to nose with him. Luffy merely blinked at you. “What’s wrong with you!? First, you help me, then you try to hit me! Why—Don’t touch me!”

He gripped your shoulders and spun you around in one fluid motion. All your sputtering got caught in your throat. Two feet away Mr. Toleson lay flat on his back with the worst bloody nose you’d ever seen.

One. Two…

You couldn’t help it; you laughed. Ugly laughed. Louder and more all-consuming than you ever had before. You tried to choke on it, only making the sound sizzle into harsh snickers.

Luffy felt like he was in a trance, watching you dazedly as he broke into his own fit of laughter.

“Gah!” Your mother bolted for the door, throwing a fretful glance over her shoulder. She paused, wove around a man limping for the exit, and dragged Mr. Toleson to his feet. Coughing, your would-be fiancée set his grim sights on Luffy. Your mother tugged him with her, more forceful now. “Come. She isn’t worth your life.”

Really, it shouldn’t have bothered you. She’d never done anything for you, yet—her words struck you oddly, fiercely. They were gone before you recovered. You glanced around at a loss as Luffy stood a strong pillar in your peripheral. Your eyes darted to meet him as the final pieces of your world crumbled to dust, and you found nothing but cool assurance; you sighed out a breath you’d been holding since you were ten.

“Good riddance,” you choked. Luffy’s lips ticked up in a smile. The figures of his friends came into focus as they gathered around in the wreckage of the church. Emotion tingled in every corner of your body. “Thank you, all of you. I’m… forever in your debt.”

That wasn’t all you wished to express by far. You’d been thinking it the whole while, perhaps even from the first moment you learned he was a pirate. The request teetered precariously on the tip of your tongue when the caterer cut you off.

“No need, madam,” he said with a flourish of his wrist. “Always a pleasure to assist.”

His eyes took you in gratefully, and he was quick to wipe away the small bit of blood leaving his nose. You grinned, almost grimacing, and gave an awkward laugh. “Of course…” Luffy’s shoulder brushed your own, drawing your gaze to him. His bright eyes had you wanting to reach up and brush his messy hair out of his face. Somehow, you refrained. “Just what kind of pirates are you? I didn’t think your lot were in the business of wedding crashing.”

Luffy shrugged his shoulders, barely smiling as he replied, “I like you.”

You choked on nothing. “Well—that’s—indeed.”

The silence of the room, only some harsh breaths breaking it, had you questioning what came next. Your adrenaline crashed all at once as your eyes got heavy and your shoulders sagged all at once. You rubbed at your eyes and suppressed a yawn, shivering as a breeze drifted by.

The ginger girl noticed the change at once, moving to your side despite her own exhaustion. “Let’s get you cleaned up. That can’t be comfortable.”

For some reason, you didn’t jerk away from her touch, so gentle and kind as she took your arm. “Yeah. Uhm, I can go to my servants’ quarters. They won’t say anything…”

The girl scoffed, catching your eye. “No way. You’re going to our ship.” She blanched a second later, backtracking. “If that’s okay with you.”

You watched for any sign of falsehood, and found none at all. You shook your head quickly. “No, that’s fine. Can we go now?”

The girl—Nami, you later learned—giggled and swiftly ushered you out of the wreckage and into the sun. You gave a soft laugh of your own, still very reserved yet filled with the tentativeness of someone realizing that everything would be okay.

And Luffy watched you leave, his lips tugging upwards subconsciously. He stood solidly as each of his friends followed after you, till only Robin remained. She had her arms crossed, head tilted low and eyes scrutinizing. She took in Luffy’s stance, his twitchy fingers, his eyes transfixed on empty space. All usual features on her friend; it was his dopey grin that gave it all away.

“Captain,” Robin spoke. “Everything all right?”

“Yeah,” Luffy nodded. He didn’t even stutter, his reply instant. “Why?”

She nearly chuckled, holding back if only to humor him. She nudged his shoulder with her own to spur him into motion, and the pair walked slowly into the streets.

“What do you know about your new friend?” she asked as they passed under a bakery sign squeaky as it swung with the wind.

He paused. “She’s fancy… and unhappy.” Luffy kicked a pebble and watched it skip all the way to the end of the sloped path. “Very unhappy. She’ll be happier with us.”

Robin’s heart went tender as she looked away, hiding a smirk. “Have you told her that?”

Catching her eye, Luffy smiled. “She knows.”

They caught up enough to spy the others as Usopp and Nami had their arms around your shoulders, bickering absently whilst you snickered quietly between them. Robin nodded, for who was she to argue? Besides, maybe you did. The smile on your face may have betrayed just that.

જ ⁀ ➴

You still heard the boisterous laughter of your new friends even as you swept away from the galley, heart beating a little too fast to be comfortable. They were amazing, sure, but overwhelming at best. All you needed was a moment and you could return unnoticed to the good food and warm company. As soon as you got some air.

You instinctively reached to pick up a skirt as you rose the stairs to the deck, only to grab at air, look down, and grin at the sight of Nami’s brown trousers.

The cool night breeze hit you like a wall the moment you stepped outside, shooting shivers down your spine. The saltiness of the sea clung to your skin and clumped in your hair, filling your nose with every deep breath of air.

The deck felt odd against your bare feet, grating against your skin just enough to make you wary of splinters despite the apparent fine craftsmanship of the wood. You leaned into the ship rail and gazed down upon the rolling waters. A soft and steady kussshhh kussshhh greeted you, a gentle sea spray kissing your cheeks.

So far, the sea was far greater than you’d ever conceived. Freedom rippled in every gust of wind billowing in the sails; the waves sang songs of grandauer; the stars winked secrets you couldn’t hear but felt in the creak of your bones. The music of the world had finally included you in its symphony, and you would never go back.

Never.

You heard him before you saw him, his bumbling, careless steps thumping against the deck. Luffy came up out of the belly of the ship, gazed around once, and settled his sights on you. You met eyes and simply existed; he smiled first; you returned a grin. Luffy approached with all the familiarity he shouldn’t have given you in such a short time.

“You disappeared,” he said too loudly, threatening to break the perfect silence settled around you.

“I did,” you whispered back. After pursing your lips, you turned back to the sea and waited, assuming he would take the hint. It took two seconds longer than you anticipated, but Luffy’s shoulder soon bumped against your own.

When he spoke again, he was softer, “How do you feel?”

You sucked in a lunfull of cold air and laughed it out. “Free. I didn’t think I’d ever feel like that again.”

He nodded, because he wanted to say so many things but at the same time had no clue what to say at all. Luffy had never experienced this before, being at a loss for words; all evening he’d dwelled in this confusion that only grew every time you smiled and he lost his breath. What was so different about you that all his words felt terribly redundant?

“Wow.” He turned his head quickly, blinking at you. You were already looking right at him.

“Huh?”

You shook your head, shy smile dripping in tease. “You’re quiet. I didn’t take you as someone to just dwell like this.”

How many minutes had passed? Luffy wasn’t sure, but you looked content, so he didn’t really care. His eyes danced all over your face, puzzlement laid in his brow. You tilted your head and began to worry about the cloudy look on his face.

“Can I ask you something?” you said. Luffy gave a wordless nod, still looking so lost. You wanted to touch him, the realization setting in suddenly, hand itching to grip his arm. “Why did you help me? You didn’t have to.” Crossing your arms, you turned to watch the curling white foam ripple off the ship. “It certainly made things harder for you. They might tell the Navy, and I can imagine that’s plain hell.”

“They won’t catch us,” he scoffed, catching your eye. “And like I said, I like you.”

Your lips pursed before you let slip a chuckle, face far too warm for your liking. He probably didn’t know what he was saying. “Right. How could I forget. Is that all?”

“You’re… funny.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Yeah. Real funny. Odd. Makes me feel funny.” He said it with such nonchalance you wondered if he was joking, but the longer you stood and stared at your feet the more aware you were of his presence at your side. Finally, you lifted your head, finding him staring out to sea. He was one to talk about being odd. You hardly understood what was so odd about you; you felt fairly normal if you said so yourself—but that wasn’t exactly the point.

Because Luffy was confused after all, just like he looked to be. The conflicted boy never strayed far from your shoulder, his hand brushing yours every few seconds. You hardly knew him—you didn’t know him—yet you couldn’t deny the overwhelming trust clawing its way into your heart.

So, really, there wasn’t much more debate on whether you should ask.

“Let me stay.” “Join my crew.”

The pair of you whipped your heads around suddenly. Eyes wide, you smiled, bursting into laughter with him, leaning into his side so he was half holding you up, your forehead hitting his chest—you missed hugs, sighing deeply as his warm hands brushed your skin and—

Cold rushed up your spine. You jerked away, an apology on your lips, when Luffy grunted and reeled you back in. You hit his chest with a thump as his arms wrapped around you three times. Eyes wide, body stiff, his deep breathing enveloped you till all you heard was in and out, in and out, that steady yet unsure rhythm.

“I’d like to join your crew,” you said after a while.

He focused on the space ahead of him, hold loosening bit by bit. “I’d like you to stay.”

You pulled away, and this time he let you. “Somehow, I feel I’m making a grave mistake.” He tilted his head all puppy-like, so you reveled in his puzzlement. Spinning out of his arms you faced the sea again. “You’ll most likely get me killed, Captain.”

Luffy blinked rapidly, heart thudding at the sly grin planted on your profile. Captain. He liked that. He always did, but now especially—when it came from you.

“I won’t let that happen,” he said with such casualty. He stepped into your line of sight. “You do want to stay, don’t you?”

As if you had a choice, you mused. Even if you didn’t, it wouldn’t change a thing in your eyes. You smiled softly at him, a spark of wild excitement in your eyes. “More than anything.”

It started small, only a grin until it grew too wide to remain shut, his teeth shining seconds later. His eyes squinted, head thrown back, and you swore his laugh echoed to the very depths of the sea, encircling your whole being.

He fascinated you, filling you with this sense of freedom you’d never known before. Luffy was larger than life, and you stood there to witness his existence. Somehow, even then, you understood the gravity of who he would become.

What an odd pair the two of you made. Him so unrestrained and you so proper—though surely the longer you spent with him the less true that became. Neither of you really cared either way; you found the other wildly fascinating, and in that moment on the deck as he blinded you with his smile, that’s really all that mattered.

𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐥𝐢𝐬𝐭: @100520s @kryscent

#one piece x reader #monkey d luffy x reader #luffy x reader #luffy x you #luffy x y/n #monkey d luffy x you #monkey d luffy x y/n #one piece drabble #one piece fanfiction

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luveline · 6 months ago

Note

I need more Hotch x teacher PLEASE, I’ll take anything 😭🙏🏻

Mr. Hotchner —call me Aaron, he always says, because he’s a bully— walks across the school grounds with his son stuck to him.

According to your colleagues, Jack used to be more outgoing. Not extroverted, but friendly, with many friends and lots to say. But after the passing of his mother a few years ago he’s become a quieter child. It’s not uncommon to see him glued to his father or his Aunt Jess before school.

You tuck your hands in your cardigan against the early summer morning chill. “Hello,” you greet as the Hotchners approach. “Good morning.”

“Good morning,” Aaron says. His smile is a rare and lucrative sight; whenever he smiles at you like this, as though you’re some wonder he’s happened upon accidentally, it betters your whole day.

“Good morning, Jack,” you say, a gentle prompt to see what mood he’s in.

“Hi.”

“Hi, buddy. You got your reading diary filled out?” you ask.

“Yeah. Me and dad read Marlo again, I hope that’s okay.”

You bend just a bit to be smaller, “You can read anything you want to.”

“Dad says so too.”

You and Aaron share a look. “Dad’s always right, huh?”

Jack nods emphatically. Aaron edges a half step closer to you, looking as though his hand is itching where he’s tucked it in his coat pocket. There’s something in it, you realise. He pulls it out and offers it to you covertly.

“You left this behind,” he says.

It’s one of your bracelets. You open your palm and let him tip the bracelet into your hand, curling your fingers closed, but not before the brush of his thumb has made you miss it against your cheek.

“Oh, wow, I assumed I lost it.”

“No… it must have fallen down between my bed and the nightstand.”

You glance around, not as covert as you wish you were. It’s not that you and Aaron can’t date, but you perhaps shouldn’t, and besides that things are so new between you that it isn’t anyone else’s business either way. Plus, you have Jack to think about. He doesn’t know you’re seeing his father yet.

You smile gratefully and tuck the bracelet into your pocket. “Thank you.”

“Jack!” a blonde little girl called Sadie races up to you all and smiles wide. “Do you want to come and play with me? I want to try cartwheels before we go in.”

Jack looks up at Aaron, who nods and leans down. He kisses his unwrinkled forehead. “I should be going soon. Be good today, okay?”

Jack says his love yous as he jogs away with Sadie, his lunchbox forgotten in Aaron’s hands. “Want me to take it?” you ask.

“Oh, yes. Please, honey, if you don’t mind.”

Again, his hand brushes yours as he hands it over, his skin a reminder that he’s touched you now, and kindly, gentle fingertips trailing down your back as you dozed with your face against his chest. He’s so… perfect, in a way, such a caring person, you’ve never felt like this about someone. His proximity makes you wish you could go home with him now or follow him to work. It’s an achy feeling without being sore.

“I never mind.” You watch him carefully as you talk, “It’s nice to get to see you every morning.”

“It would be even nicer if we could’ve had the whole morning together,” he says agreeably, fondly. “Did you check your calendar for me? How are things looking next weekend?”

“Very open for nice men who bring me jewellery.”

“Don’t start,” he says quietly, his hand twitching toward yours, “or I’ll blow our cover.”

“I wish you could.”

“Me too, honey. I’m going to talk with Jack about it again this weekend.” He beams. “I wonder if he’ll change his tune this time.”

When Aaron brought up the idea of you and him together to Jack, it had been as a simple hypothetical: How would you feel if me and Miss L/N wanted to be friends, Jack?

He was ecstatic. Then we can see her all the time! he’d said. Aaron’s next port of call is to introduce the g-word.

You and Aaron meet eyes, looking at one another, his hand creeping closer and closer to your side. He takes the end of your cardigan into his hand and feels it between his fingers, the slight touch, slightest movement of the fabric against your shoulder sending a shudder down your arms and chest.

“Can I see you tonight?” he asks.

“You aren’t busy?” you ask, surprised.

“Of course I am, I always am. But I think I have to see you.”

Oh, you have to, you could tease. But you really need to see him too. “Just text me when you want me and I’ll be there,” you say, looking away from him toward the children and their racing.

You’re glad you aren’t looking at him when he next speaks. “I always want you, but I have to go. Have a good day, honey, alright?”

Jack’s lunchbox creaks in your hand. A funny soft kiss would be nice here, his smile pressed to yours. Maybe one day you’ll get one out in the open. “Thank you. Have a good day, too, Aaron,” you say, only looking up at him when you’re sure he’s crossed the school grounds to the parking lot.

He looks back over his shoulder to you twice.

#aaron hotchner x reader #aaron hotchner x you #aaron hotchner x y/n #aaron hotchner #aaron hotchner fic #aaron hotchner blurb #aaron hotchner drabble #aaron hotchner imagine #aaron hotchner fanfic #aaron hotchner fanfiction #hotch x reader #hotch #hotch x you #hotch blurb #hotch drabble #criminal minds

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kitkatt0430 · 4 months ago

Text

Been in a Batfamily (in all it's fucked up drama) mood lately and thinking...

Jason gets into town, starts establishing his Red Hood persona, screwing with the Bats and taking over Crime Alley. He intends to use the new Robin to screw with Batman and manipulating Black Mask into reporting the new Red Hood back to the original. And as planned, Joker does not respond well to 'some upstart' using his old moniker.

Except when Joker breaks out of Arkham he can't help but be distracted by Batman and his shiny new Robin. (Has Joker been out while Tim's been Robin at this point? Let's say no for the sake of fanfic purposes.) Now Harley made Joker promise no more killing kids after what happened with the last Robin, made it clear that was a hard boundary for her and she'd leave him for good if he want after any more kids.

Of course, his promise that of course he wouldn't kill anymore kids was a total lie but it got Hartley to go all soft and agreeable for him again and that was what mattered. Besides, he doesn't want to kill this Robin. He wants to see what Batman sees in having child sidekick and take one for himself.

So Tim gets kidnapped by the Joker before Bruce can send the poor kid somewhere not Gotham for his safety. And Joke unmasks Tim because of course he does. And Harley sees how young Tim is and watches Mr. J start electrocuting the kid because surely the brainwashing'll stick if they fry his noggin' a bit first...

And Harley decides this is a boundary for her too. She can't be a part of this and even if it kills her, she's going to save this kid. She knows she can't do it on her own and her first thought is to go find Batman.

Of course, she quickly nixes this idea. Batman isn't ruthless enough and sure maybe he'll make it all the way through Joker's henchmen - admittedly as per usual - and rescue the kid. But then Mr. J will go back to Arkham and even though Harley doesn't want Joker dead... she also kinda wants him dead for this one. For using his promise to her not to kill kids as an excuse to torture children instead.

Next choice is Nightwing but he's out for the same reasons as Batman. Nightwing is somewhat more likely to kill the Joker and could live with it in the way Batman couldn't, but it's not a guarantee and Harley wants this kid to know that the guy who did this to him will never be able to do it ever again.

And then Harley remembers. Red Hood. Who definitely picked that name not as an homage but as a taunt. Who clearly hates the Joker and all he stands for. Who will... probably kill Harley, let's be honest, but she's not sure she wants to live without her Mr. J even as she's mentally planning out the man's death. So.

Harley makes an excuse to leave. Joker says something about mom doing the grocery shopping to the kid he's electrocuting and hands off a list of random stuff to Harley. She takes it and skedaddles. Heads all the way to Crime Alley. Stands outside it for a long moment. Thinks about the kid Joker's gotten his hands on. The way he screamed and cried and begged for Batman to come save him after the bravado of Robin quickly wore off.

She steps into Crime Alley. And then she does random acrobatics down the street, waiting for the Red Hood or his men to show up.

And they do. The Red Hood's henchmen are quick and efficient in grabbing her and presenting her to their boss. There's a gun in her face and she should be terrified and she is but...

She tells Red Hood about the kid. She drops the fake accent she put on for Joker and let's herself be, for just one last time, Harleen instead of Harley. The doctor who cares and not the killer Joker molded her into. "So kill me or whatever, I know I deserve it for believing Mr. J's lies again. But you have a code. You don't hurt kids. You don't kill kids. And maybe I'm asking too much, but I wasn't there and didn't save the last one. So I'm begging you to save this one."

Jason sees green. He has Harley take him to the Joker's hide out. He tears his way through the Joker's goons and doesn't hesitate to kill the Joker because he's too deep in the pit rage at the man who murdered him to care about his convoluted plans to try and force Bruce's hand, to make Batman finally kill Joker.

On the bright side, killing the Joker himself clears up some of Jason's lazarous pit related anger management issues. On the spot. The down side however is that Jason now has a traumatized Tim to deliver back to Batman - which he'd rather not, Batman cannot be trusted not to weaponize children - without being blamed for the state Tim's in.

He makes this Harley's problem - explain this to the Bats yourself, it's your punishment, Harley - and decides he needs a new plan to say 'screw you' to Batman with. He's gonna win over Robin 3.0 and get the kid to willingly abandon Batman to join the Red Hood Crew. How hard can it be, anyway?

Meanwhile Tim has absolutely figured out Jason is the Red Hood because he's absolutely connecting dots he should not be capable of connecting and formulating his own plan to try and lure Jason back home. Because why would Tim focus on healing from his own trauma when he could prioritize someone else's and compartmentalize the hell out of his own problems. Which is definitely the healthy thing to do and not at all going to bite him in the ass with depression and miscommunications down the line. (They all need so much therapy.)

So now the Joker's dead, Harley has delivered Tim safely back to Batman, (Ivy is about to get an unexpected visitor,) and the Bats are about to start playing four-d chess with each other to try and achieve various goals. Jason is trying to steal Tim from Bruce. Bruce thinks maybe saving Robin means the new Red Hood could be saved from himself after all. Tim is trying to lure Jason back to the manor for Alfred's cookies and oh is that a long overdue conversation with Bruce that is also sprung on him like a trap??? And Dick would just like to thank Red Hood but somehow winds up drunk confessing to the definitely-a-hallucination-of-Jason the whole didn't find out his little brother was dead until after the funeral when Dick got back from space thing and how he's so grateful to the Red Hood for saving this new kid who's just the neighbor's kid but also rapidly looking brother-shaped and why is he so bad at protecting the people he cares about???

(Jason rapidly going from 'drunk Dick is funny' to 'drunk Dick is clingy and cries and oh god he's getting emotions all over me make it stop')

#fanfiction #fanfic ideas #the batfamily #batman #the red hood #harley quin #jason todd #tim drake #bruce wayne #dick grayson #Tim - *waving a cookie in front of Jason and then taking a bite* Mmmmmm Agent A's cookies are the best.#Tim - And you who definitely has no idea what you're missing out on... want one?#Jason - *dying inside - again - because he wants one so badly he misses Alfred's baking* N...no.... yes. Dammit. Give me a cookie.#Tim - *stage one success*

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thejuvenilem · 2 months ago

Text

oasis on the humorous talk talk talk section of melody maker, 2/3/1996

source:

#oasis #liam gallagher #noel gallagher #melody maker magazine #talk talk talk #mr agreeable

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gallusrostromegalus · 1 year ago

Note

In honor of the season, what are holidays like in the spirit world? Have they been infected by Christmas yet? I imagine they inherit some popular ones from the world of the living, but also the unique holidays of the afterlife must be wild.

You come to me, on the eve of the High Holiday of Halloween, and ask me about Christmas??

I'm kidding, you're asking about holidays in general but my unsuspecting Agnostic Ass just got jumpscared by Mariah Carey, and I'm sensitive. It's not the season. Not for another 48 hours at least. Do Not Violate The Sacred Treaty.

...

Anyway, this ended up in my drafts for a few days, so: Christianity has not really gotten a foothold in soul society, but via cultural osmosis "Xmas" has. Nobody in a Shinto afterlife believes in monotheism, but they love a holiday and a Saint is practically a Kami anyway, but.... It's "Xmas" because the holiday in no way remotely resembles Christmas as practiced in the living world.

---

Scene: 4th Division hospital, a few days after Rukia is rescued and Aizen departed for Las Noches:

"-CHAD!!" Ichigo bellows, almost falling in through the doorway of the hospital room, wheezing.

"I am very sure you are not supposed to be out of bed." Chad frowned, looking up from the copy of the history of soul society Captain Komamura had lent him to read while he recovered.

It was strange, to be in the care of the very people he had thought to be senseless killers not two weeks ago, but he was finding the Shinigami a generally agreeable lot. Even if the captain that controlled the hospital reminded him unpleasantly of a nun with her chaste dress, soft voice and understated but constant threat of violence.

"YOU NEED YO HEAR THIS-! He- hee-" Ichigo stumbled over to his bed and curled up on his side overcome with giggles.

"... I'm beginning to think I am incorrect." Sighed the pale-haired man at the door, frowning down at Ichigo.

"Jushiro Ukitake, I don't think I've had the pleasure of your acquaintance yet, Mr.-?" The man introduced himself and offered Chad a hand.

"Uh. Yasutora. Sado Yasutora. But everyone calls me Chad." He mumbled, cautiously shaking hands with the stranger. "You're um. You're Miss Rukia 's boss, right?"

"Yes! I believe you are her friend with the pet parakeet and good throwing arm, yes?" Ukitake beamed at him and Chad was suddenly struck by the idea that he'd seen Ukitake at a family reunion before - Impossible, obviously, but the man had the intense aura of a distant uncle. "Good show that, she loves being hurled at an opponent!"

"Oh. Thank you." Chad mumbled, Ichigo finally catching his breath. "...What are you incorrect about?"

"Christmas, apparently." Ukitake frowned, and Ichigo dissolved into snickering again. "He says you're something of an expert on the actual mythology, I only have third-hand accounts, you see-"

"No!" Gasped Ichigo, reaching over to tug at Mr. Ukitake's sleeve. "You gotta tell him!"

"I am Catholic, yes." Chad nodded. "-go on. It can't be less accurate than the version Dr. Kurosaki- Uh, Ichigo's dad- gave me last year."

"Yeah it can-" Ichigo wheezed.

"Well, ah- Christmas is a birthday celebration for an important religious figure, right?" Ukitake tried.

"Yep!" Chad nodded, giving Ukitake a thumbs up.

"The birth of Rudolph, the Star-nosed reindeer?" Ukitake tried.

Chad stared at him blankly for a moment, before his thumbs-up slowly wilted into a thumbs down and Ichigo vibrated silently with hysterics. Chad opened and closed his mouth a few times, hand waving, then covered his mouth, searching for words. Eventually he reached out and gently put his hand on the captain's shoulder to explain as delicately as possible-

"...No." Said Chad.

Ichigo rolled off the bed with a dull thud.

"-I am, however, fascinated." Chad elaborated. "Please continue."

"...I'm really sorry that I am this ignorant of your religious dogma." Ukitake winced.

"It's- don't worry about it. Tell me what you think happens on Rudolph's birthday." Chad said, sitting back and pressing his hands together.

"Well- oh, how does it start? Right- there's the Monks- Saints? that give out presents to well-behaved children during the winter holidays- Saint Claus, Saint Nicolas and Saint Kringle. And they're all very old men, and with good judgement about who does and does not deserve presents, so they're called the three wise men!"

Ichigo made a noise like a teakettle from the floor.

"Oh. Oh no." Chad giggled.

"And they travel the entire world giving out presents, but that's A Lot of houses and it was taking them longer and longer so they prayed to... I forget the name Catholics have for Amaterasu. Guadalupe?"

Chad made a noise not unlike a violently squeezing a rubber duck, and started to shake.

"-So they pray for some help getting all the presents to the children, and Whoever She Is says they're doing good deeds, but she wants to see if they're REALLY worthy of that kind of miracle, so she sends them on a journey to recover some lost holy treasures, and on the way each of the holy men wrestles with and tames a demon representing some vice or another-"

"-I. I think you've gotten the Star of Bethlehem mixed up with The Journey West." Chad realized, hands pressed together in front of his face.

"Yes that's right! She marks the direction they're supposed to be going with a bright star! So they go West, following the star! "-Ok the three wise men traveling from the east following a star part is, in fact, accurate. What's this about demons?"

"It's some sort of allegory about how all the Saints are virtues so the demons represent the vices people fall into around the holiday- Being punitive or penurious and ruining good things for others. They all had weird names-" Ukitake frowned.

"What's going on?" Captain Kyorauku asked, sticking his head in the door.

"You'll know!" Ukitake chirped with excitement. "-What are the three demons the saints conquer in the Christmas myth?"

"Krampus the Child-beater, Scrooge the Miser, and... Ah fuck I always mispronounce the last one. He's green and he sucks? The Goonch?" Shunsui frowned.

"THE GOONCH?" Ichigo shrieked from the floor.

"I. I think you mean The Grinch." Chad said, experiencing a brand new combination of horror, delight and fascination that felt like the emotional equivalent of a shrimp color.

"That's him! Oscar The Grinch!" Shunsui nodded. "Why, its only August? Also, what's Kurosaki doing on the floor?

"We are apparently very misninformed about the mythlogical origins of Christmas. This amuses Kurosaki to the point of hysterics." Ukitake explained, lightly nudging Ichigo aside with his foot and sitting on the foot of Chad's bed.

"Your version is so much better." Chad said, vibrating with excitement. "What are these treasures they're supposed to get?"

"Oh you had to ask- Shunsui love, you were the one that heard it all from Captain Kuchiki when he did his tour in the living world."

"Oh for fuckssake of course it's Byakuya-" Ichigo groaned from the floor, and Ukitake gently kicked him in the ribs to shush him.

"Uhhhh... Let's see-" Shunsui scratched at his beard."There's Eight Lost Treasures, they're all magical bells that give anyone who rings them supernatural abilities- there's the Bell of Speed, Bell of Grace, Bell of Balance, Bell of Cunning, Bell of... ah fuck. I always forget the two in the middle... -Oh! Bell of destination- not like fate, like, always being able to find your way to where you're going. Bell of Affection, Bell that gives power over wind and Bell that gives power over lighting!"

Chad blinked at him, then slowly crumpled into a ball.

"...Mr. Yasutora?" Ukitake asked, gently touching his shoulder.

"This is amazing. I love it. I'm going to die." he whimpered, voice high and tight as he struggled to breathe from laughing.

"We may have already lost Mr. Kurosaki." Shunsui muttered, poking Ichigo's shoulder with his toe. "Anyway, they conquer the demons, get all the magical bells and make it to the distant city, aand Amaterasu says 'Great job!" Ukitake continued, enthusiastic as they approached his favorite part. "-But she says 'Here's your final test: I'm going to give a special gift to one of these creatures, you tell me which is the most deserving of my favor.' and then she turns them loose in some kind of farm with talking animals. They're all good and noble animals that have done many brave deeds- dogs saved children from drowning, horse that ran across a battlefield to deliver a message that stopped a war and so on- eventually the saints find a brand new baby fawn with a bright red nose. Since it was born just that morning, it's never done anything of note, and the other animals don't really like it because it's red nose means its kind of sickly and it cant see well so they don't want to play with it."

"YES!" Chad cheered, making the connection.

"Oh, that part is right?" Ukitake perked up.

"Not even remotely, but it's amazing. They pick the fawn right?

"That's right! The saints tell Amaterasu that the Baby deer Rudolph is the one that deserves her blessing, because while all the animals here are noble and good, no good deed is better than another, and of all the animals, the sickly little deer is the one that really needs her help."

"Oh no." Ichigo whimpered from the floor. "That's actually like. genuinely heartwarming."

"Amaterasu applauds them, because they've made the right choice, and she gives the power of the star to the baby deer so it very literally glows like a headlight, and She turns the eight magical bells into a herd of deer that all have the powers the bells they were made from had, so Rudolph has a family and the three wise men have a team of nine magical deer to pull the flying sleigh she gives them, and then they are able to deliver all the presents to all the children of the world in one night, and they do it every year on Rudolph's birthday, because he was the first one to receive a proper Christmas present!" Ukitake finished, giving Chad an excitable two thumbs up.

Chad, slowly tipped forward, faintly hissing with silent laughter, then rolled off the bed to join Ichigo on the floor. Ukitake peered after him with concern, until chad slowly raised a weak, shaking hand up to give Ukitake a thumbs up back.

"-What I can't figure is how the bucket of fried chicken fits into all that?" Shunsui pondered, and the boys shrieked with laughter.

#AEIWAM #An Elephant Is Warm And Mushy #Bleach #Bleach fanfic #chad yasutora #jushiro ukitake #shunsui kyoraku #ichigo kurosaki #Christmas mention #new frontiers in Syncretic Mythology #five or six kinds of blasphemy in one go

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noyoucantpinmedown · 7 months ago

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The Bowers Gang When Their Partner Has Their Period

Basically headcanons on the boys' attitude towards periods and how they handle their afab partner having one.

Belch Huggings

While Belch was raised by his loving mom, I picture Mrs. Huggings being quite old-fashioned and therefore very sheepish when it comes to talking biology with her son. Poor woman barely made it through giving him the sex talk, and as a result all Reggie knows is that whatever happens during the elusive ''time of the month'', it's not fun. Despite his lack of knowledge, Belch will be very doting of his partner if he's told they're having theirs, or even if he thinks they might be (he will never ask, or say the P word.) His SO can expect even more cuddles, random store bought or home-cooked treats (Mama Huggins is proud of how considerate her boy is), supplies kept on hand in the glove compartment of his car, patience, and compassion. Will assume sex is out of the question for the time being, but if his partner asks, he's more than happy to oblige. Generally will check on his SO constantly to the point of being annoying, and is willing to do anything they want, being nothing but understanding and obliging the whole time, even if his partner is cranky and takes out their frustration on him. Clueless as he is, he's ready to do anything he can think of to help, and is eager to be directed on what his SO needs. Will it kill him inside to be seen out buying pads for his partner? Yes. Will he do it anyway without complaint? Also yes. 10/10 in terms of support.

Victor Criss

I headcanon Victor as having two younger sisters and one of them is around the Losers' age, so aside from actually having been educated by his parents, he has actually witnessed what it can be like. He's the best prepared for this scenario and the most mature about it. As most teenage boys, Vic is a bit grossed out by the whole thing, but he's determined to handle it maturely and discuss it openly with his partner. Once he knows Aunt Flo is in town, he'll steal some pads from his sister and mom's stash to keep in his backpack, along with some Advil for cramps. He will show empathy for his SO's aches and mood swings, but unlike Belch, he will not take his SO directing their frustration at him- they may be bleeding, but that does not get them a free pass to treat him badly. In terms of intimacy, he's squicked out by blood in a sexual context, so his partner is on their own for that one. Other that that, he's happy to provide whatever his SO needs- he'll cuddle and read with his partner when they're bedridden with cramps, supply them with warm drinks, listen to them rant, and provide plenty of affection.

We're done with the sweet boyfriends part- onto the shitty ones.

Patrick Hockstetter

Patrick's knowledge on menstruation amounts to sexist stereotypes, and shameless as he is, he's not afraid to talk about it. The type to bring it up whenever his partner is grumpier than usual (''Oh, I see. Shark week, is it?''), and enjoys coming up with names for it- they're about as gross as you can expect. He's curious about how it really works, though, which might make it even worse, because now his taunts are even more based in reality. The stereotypical ones don't really stop either, though. The only one who will not tell their partner if their clothes are stained in public, because it's funnier if they're walking around with a red spot on the back of their pants. Patrick has an uncanny ability to just know when his partner's having their monthly visitor without them having to mention it (because he's a stalker with great observational skills). Doesn't give a shit about what their partner is going through, no emotional support to be found here. He's just as likely to take mood swings and crankiness in good fun (but there will be some form of punishment if his SO crosses the line of what he considers entertaining sass) as he is to get bored with it and avoid his partner until they're in a more agreeable mood. But hey, he is not completely useless- will give his partner all the physical affection they want, because he enjoys his partner being clingy and it's easy to transition to sex from there. Every now and then he'll swipe treats and supplies from the store even if he is not asked for them. The more attached Patrick feels to his SO, the more likely he is to do it and the more likely he is to not ask for anything in return... the latter still isn't a lot, he'll still expect his partner to fall over themselves thanking him for his sacrifice and generosity (that being the one chocolate bar he stole while going to steal cigarettes for himself). Generally speaking though, for Patrick it's business as usual. Ditto for intimacy. The negative is that he will expect his partner to put out in some form of another; the positive is that his partner will not be without if they habe those kind of cravings, and absolutely nothing is off the table because we know Patrick is nasty as hell and really enjoys blood. If his partner really wants nothing to do with him in that department, no big deal! He'll just find someone who does while he waits out the crimson tide :) He's such a catch, guys!

Henry Bowers

Oh boy. So, here's the thing: unlike Patrick, Henry actually wants to help. Unlike Vic and Belch, Henry is too stoic and hard-headed to even touch the topic. All he knows about menstruation is wrapped up in sexism, so he probably thinks that ''it's not that big of a deal'', or that ''women play it up for attention''. But he's squeamish when it comes to the reality of All Things Afab, so if he pulls the ''are you on you period'' card when his partner is in a bad mood and his partner answers Yes, I am, expect blushing and stammering. Wants to help, but does not want to talk about it, and a lot of the things that would help he considers demeaning (he will not be caught dead in the feminine care aisle). Not much to offer in the way of emotional support, except awkward pats and clumsy attempts at validation. He will show his partner more grace than usual, but if they're the type to complain a lot, get snappy or emotional, he'll get very tired very quickly. As far as sex is concerned, Henry expects his needs to still be met but refuses to touch his partner below the hips- he won't push his SO more than once or twice, though, and will wait it out without bringing it up again. Generally better at the quiet moments: sitting with his SO while they nap or watch a movie, wordlessly giving them food or a hot water bottle and trying to blissfully ignore the whole situation as much as he can.

#bowers gang headcanons #bowers gang #it 2017 #henry bowers #patrick hockstetter #belch huggins #victor criss #victor criss x reader #belch huggins x reader #henry bowers x reader #patrick hocksetter x reader #bowers gang x reader

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tenth-sentence · 9 months ago

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The introduction was followed up on his side by a happy readiness of conversation – a readiness at the same time perfectly correct and unassuming; and the whole party were still standing and talking together very agreeably, when the sound of horses drew their notice, and Darcy and Bingley were seen riding down the street.

"Pride and Prejudice" - Jane Austen

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wanderingsoul6261 · 8 months ago

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Credit for gif goes to creator, cinevettel

A Hint of Green

James Beaufort x Reader

Synopsis: Reader promised to support the Beaufort twins no matter what, having been friends with them for years. Reader adores Lydia, but loves James. But what happens when a certain scholarship student gets in the way?

Warning: only some swear words

P.S, a little self reflective because I've been dealing with thyroid and iron issues. Also, to the person that requested this, I'm sorry if this isn't particularly what you wanted. I'm a tad sick and so grammar and spelling might not also be the greatest.

-------

(Y/N) was a creature of habit and instinct. She did things as they appeared normal for her, doing them in ways that she was used to, as if any other way would stress her out and be too overwhelming to complete. And she has made it work.

One of these such habits? Hanging out with the Beaufort twins. Who are often arrogant but not enigmatic as many thought them to be. Or at least, that's what (Y/N) thought.

But it was also surprising to many because (Y/N) was plenty different from most heirs and children of millionaires. She wasn't arrogant. She didn't use her parents' money as an advantage. And maybe that was why the twins were so drawn to her. She was real. (Y/N) was herself. They could be themselves around her. No trying to please or live up to the expectations held by their fellow classmates, the professors, or even their parents. They could just be, and that was enough.

When it was just Lydia and (Y/N), they did typical girl stuff. It was actually more Lydia doing the girl stuff and (Y/N) reading a book. Lydia appreciated her company nonetheless. She allowed Lydia to talk about Mr. Sutton when she knew she couldn't talk to anyone else.(Y/N) had created a safe place for Lydia. And it was something that both Lydia and James were grateful for.

When it was James and (Y/N), things might have been a tad different. They were agreeably closer. They went for walks together. Studied for the Oxford interviews. Sat in silence listening to music, often resulting in (Y/N) gazing softly at James as he closed his eyes, basking in the moment.

She allowed them to be them.

The three studied together. They went to parties together, even if parties weren’t much of (Y/N)’s thing. But it didn't matter, because James or Lydia was always right there. And they were there for her when she started having health issues and finally diagnosed with hypothyroidism and iron deficiency anemia. They were there for her when she got frustrated with the constant testing and the changing of meds. They knew that it was affecting her hormones and understood it would take time to balance back out. And she was thankful for them. That they never took her snappy comments and fatigued laiden excuses to heart.

(Y/N) knew it before, but when the Twins understood her health issues just as much as her parents did, when no one else would, it had only strengthened her want to support them and be there for them in every way that they were there for her.

And she did just that.

As much as it was wrong and someone should have been told, she saw how happy Lydia was with Mr. Sutton. Although, (Y/N) was certain that she could never look at him in the same way ever again.

She ultimately supported James when he started spending time with Elaine. Even if it hurt and it pained her, because deep down, her heart held a place for him, just waiting for him to come and take it. But she knew he was doing it for Mortimer, being the golden child of the twins. Although she didn't like Mortimer nor the way he treated either one of his children, she supported James wanting to please his father. Didn't mean that she didn't stress to James about being his own person.

And then Ruby Bell came into the picture.

(Y/N) was there for Lydia when she walked up to the group of them at the poolside of their home. James caught (Y/N)’s gaze from where he sat in the pool, her stomach doing a flip before the two went to Lydia, where they found out that Ruby Bell had walked in on her and Mr. Sutton. She was also there for her when ultimately, Lydia would tell her that she was pregnant.

(Y/N) didn't necessarily support James' way of trying to buy Bell out, regardless if it worked or not, but she stood behind him, supporting him regardless. She stood with him and the other boys when the Welcome party was destroyed by the strippers. Lexington was beyond pissed with him, but she supported James regardless for wanting to protect his sister. She wanted to do the same.

And now, here she was, supporting James, although very poorly, as he spent time with Ruby Bell on the planning committee. It was his punishment for the stunt pulled at the welcome party. She understood that. But it didn't mean she liked it.

She watched as over the weeks, the two had spent more and more time together. And although James and (Y/N) still texted plenty throughout the day, the time in which she saw him lessened and lessened as hours moved by. And she understood why, but she knew who he was with, and although she could tolerate Elaine, she couldn't tolerate Ruby Bell.

So (Y/N) did whatever she could to take her mind off of him and Bell. She didn't want to face a heartbreak if he became a couple with her. So she did what she thought was best. Love someone before James loved Bell.

Although it would have been best to talk to him, she did not. She knew this, but refused, because if James being with Ruby would make him happy, she didn't want to get in the way. Even if it tore her slowly apart.

And as the days since the enactment of his punishment grew in number, he spent more time Ruby. Less time with (Y/N). But it gave (Y/N) more time to go on dates to fill that questionable hole of the future. A future that she would prefer with James, but a future nonetheless. Unfortunately, it also left less time to spend with Lydia.

And over time, texts with James became small and quick. They often left (Y/N) staring at her phone in sadness before putting it away. Something had to be done, but she wasn't sure what.

If James cared enough, he would reach out to her. But she was also smart enough to know that it went both ways. But it was just as much her responsibility as it was his to mend things. But nothing had even happened to break things. So why was she acting like this?

And so (Y/N) spent the next few weeks going on dates. Most never made it past the second one. They were not James. And she knew that, yet she still continued to slowly break her own heart without even noticing.

Whenever she saw James with Ruby, she avoided the two, even if James noticed her or not. She kept herself at a distance because she knew in the end she would potentially be safer. But was she really? Was she only doing more damage?

Whenever she moved away and avoided him, she could see the hurt evident in his eyes. Lydia was also confused as to what happened as (Y/N) slowly became quiet to the both of them. The Beaufort twins began to wonder if they did anything.

Neither of them technically did anything wrong.

It was all (Y/N). And she realized that.

News eventually spread that (Y/N) started dating, after for the longest time, she swore it off. She didn't think he would find out. (Y/N) wouldn't think that James would care. But secretly he did, and she was soon to find that out.

The Beaufort twin was jealous. Jealous of the ones that had (Y/N), even if he only had himself to blame. And she Would get her wish for James to do something.

—

(Y/N) was walking down the hallway, her bag slung around her shoulder and her face in a book. It was enough to distract her from who also was in the hallway with her, and it wasn't until she collided with another body that she refocused herself with her surroundings. Especially the person currently standing in front of her.

James Mortimer Beaufort.

She opened her mouth to say his name, but only closed it when her body wouldn't let her, even if her brain screamed for it.

(Y/N)’s eyes danced across his face, taking in his appearance, and in the spur of the moment, quickly turned on her heel, hoping for an escape.

She was quickly stopped, his right arm stretched out, his hand wrapped around her wrist. She now realized she had dropped her book.

“What are you doing?” He asked. (Y/N) stared at him in silence for several moments, before finally turning fully to face him and straightened her posture.

“What am I doing?” She asked. James gave her a hardened stare, almost similar to the one she heard he had given Ruby Bell after hearing what happened.

And both of them knew at this moment that it would be their first actual fight in the several years that they have been friends. Will they make it or break it?

James matched her stare and stance, his hand still wrapped her wrist and she basked in it,loved it, and then hated herself when she pulled it away from him to further prove her point.

“You are going to have to elaborate because I don't know what you're talking about James.” He let out an angry huff through his nose, and (Y/N) had barely missed the look of jealousy that flashed across his face.

“The dating, (Y/N). What are you doing?”

“Oh. I didn't know that you suddenly took on the role of my father, James. What is wrong with me dating?” She asked. (Y/N) was being genuine. What was the issue?

“You swore it off. So why start now, all of a sudden?” At this point in time, (Y/N) could almost feel the jealousy seeping off of James in waves.

“And what happened to hating Ruby Bell?” She asked. “You've been hanging around her so much.”

“What does she have to do with this?” James argued.

“What doesn't she have to do with this, James!” (Y/N) cried out. She threw her hands up in the air, tears threatening to spill. He noticed the tears, wondering really how bad things were. “You came to Maxton Hall after that day Lydia came to us with a sickening hatred for her.”

“Things change, (Y/N).”

“Yea. I guess they do.” She turned to leave again when James stopped her once more. “Let go of me.” (Y/N) snapped. James hesitated, knowing she’d probably leave, but was surprised when she didn't. Dare he say pleasantly surprised.

It was several minutes before one of them spoke.

“When was the last time we hung out James? The last time we were together as friends and not some acquaintances that would be forgotten weeks later? Or how about when was the last time we went over stuff for Oxford? Preparing for the interviews. Talking about the campus and what we'd do once we got there? When was the last time we were just “us” together?” She stared at him for several minutes before he finally spoke.

“And you thought the best way to fix that was by avoiding me? Not only me, but also Lydia?” He asked.

“Oh my goodness! What don't you understand James?”

“I don't know (Y/N). You might have to explain it to me. Because what does me being with Ruby Bell have anything to do with you and me and my sister?” She stared at him, realizing that the conversation had gone off topic. They were no longer talking about her dating. They were talking about them.

“I admit, it had nothing to do with Lydia and I feel like an ass for abandoning her-”

“Understatement.” He huffed out. (Y/N) stared at James, at a loss for words. What was she doing? She was willing to support the twins no matter what. And right now she is failing to do that.

Tears rolled down her cheeks as she stammered and she turned to leave once more, only to be stopped once again. James tugged her against him, his hands coming up to cup her face as she closed her eyes, letting the tears fall. She missed this. She missed him. And she was blaming herself because she might lose it all.

“(Y/N). Look at me.” She hesitated, but slowly opened them. James stared at her, and the jealousy and anger was gone and in was a look of comfort and apologies.

“You want to know why I questioned you about why you were dating?” James asked. A tear rolled down her cheek and he was quick to brush it away.

“Because a crazy rabid squirrel in your head told you too?” She asked, trying to make humor of the situation. He gave her a small smile, a huff of laughter escaping from him.

“Jealousy.” He answered. (Y/N) snorted and James frowned. “What's so funny?”

“Because that's the same reason I started trying to date. I got jealous that you started to spend more time with Bell and not me and I took the irrational way out. And now I feel like arse because I wasn't supporting You guys. I blamed you and it wasn't your fault.”

“But it was my fault. I should have devoted equal time to you as well.” He explained. the two stared at each other for several moments. James gently brushed her cheeks as one of her hands played with the strap of his bag.

It was several more moments of silence before (Y/N) spoke again.

“So are we just going to avoid the elephant In the room?” She asked.

“what's that?”

“We both said our actions were because we were jealous.” It took James a moment to process what she meant. And when he finally did, he glanced down at her lips and then back at her eyes before harshly pulling her in for a kiss. A tiny gasp left her, before she quickly followed suit. A small thud could be heard as her bag fell of her shoulder and onto the floor and her hands found refuge in his hair. She met the ferocity of the kiss equally, letting out a small huff as he pressed her flushed against the wall. One of his hands moved from her face to her waist, pulling her flush against him.

They savored the moment. After so long of nothing, they were going to savor this.

At least that was until they remembered they needed to breathe. Oxygen was a fundamental after all.

“So you don't love her?” (Y/N) asked. James gave her an incredulous look.

“We are both out of breath after just kissing and you ask that? Am I in love with her?” (Y/N) only stared at him in silence, but a small smirk pulled at her lips. She was fucking with him. “Oh darling. You are truly something.” Her smirk softened into a tiny smile as it was now her turn to press a hand to his cheek. James turned his head softly, pressing a kiss to her palm, never breaking eye contact. (Y/N) swore her legs turned to jello just then.

“I missed you.” She finally spoke. “And I'm sorry for being so stubborn.”

“I missed you too, darling. and if anyone has to apologize, it's me.” James’ stare hardened, telling her that he was going to win this apology battle. And she gave it to him. “Oh. And one more thing.” (Y/N) stared at him, waiting.

He paused for several seconds.

“I'll give you the world, sweetheart. Don't forget that.”

-------

Tag list:

@lifeonawhim @honethatty12 @ashamedtobewhitemanswhore27

#james beaufort x reader #james beaufort #maxton hall

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