#mr freeze is fine i guess

[jazzfromthevoid]

L for Australia

Ok fair, but you HAVE to admit zooper doopers is a way better name for them

[endless-ineffabilities]

Chemical Override (bonus chapter 5) - Never Have I Ever, Darling

Ewan Mitchell x actress!reader

a/n: what started out as a brilliant anon prompt turned into a potential minishot turned into this bonus chapter. Have at it, darlings.

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

Set after part nine. Some of our beloved cast members (Phia, Tom, Liv, Emma, Harry, Bethany, Fabs, Matty, Ewan, and the reader) are in different cities so they decide to have a mini online reunion. And - you guessed it - chaos ensues.

Ewan leans back in his chair, watching the grid of faces on his screen. The reunion call had been predictably chaotic from the start, and now, with everyone several drinks deep, things are getting even more unruly.

“Okay, I’m bored of all your faces now,” Tom groans, leaning back in his chair in mock annoyance. “How about we play a little game?”

You roll your eyes at Tom’s theatrics, but your lips twitch up. “Yeah, why not? I can’t say I enjoy seeing your giant mug either.” This only prompts Tom to shoot back with, “What, this mug?” He then shoves his face into the camera until his nose fills the screen. 

Ewan’s smile widens as he watches you lean in to match Tom’s energy, scrunching your nose at the camera. His heart gives an involuntary lurch. He misses you, and all your sharp and witty retorts. You can make him laugh without even trying. His mind flashes to what you used to have together, and it stings more than he cared to admit.

But then his eyes dart to the tiny square beside yours – Matt. His smile is effectively dampened. 

Phia cuts in, her eyes glinting with mischief. “We were thinking... Never Have I Ever? So you have to say whether or not you've done a thing. If you have, take a drink. And elaborate if you want.”

She winks at someone – or maybe a few someones – definitely not Ewan. He frowns. Something’s going on here. 

“Oh, I don’t do that,” Harry jokes. “I’m too young and innocent to drink!”

Emma beams at him, “That’s my good boy.”

Without missing a beat, Tom slides in, smirking, “Do I lose cool points if I also want Emma to call me their good boy?” 

“When have you ever been cool?” Ewan deadpans, raising an eyebrow.

“Ouch,” Tom dramatically presses a hand to his chest, “You roasted me in the show, and now you roast me in real life? Cold, mate. Cold.”

Fabien chuckles, but Ewan barely registers it. His focus drifts to you, laughing at something Matt just said in the chat. His chest tightens, and he heads to the kitchen to refill his drink. It is always like this. He could never decide if he was more annoyed with Matt for being so… Matt, or with himself for letting it get to him. But how can it not?

When everyone is settled back in their seats, respective alcoholic beverages in hand, Phia announces, “Alright, drinks ready? Let’s go! I’ll start.” She pauses dramatically before delivering her line. “Never have I ever… embarrassed myself at work.”

Ewan freezes, already knowing he’s about to be dragged into this. Your eyes flicker toward him, an amused smile tugging at your lips.

“Oh, I know who! Mr. Ewan Mitchell please take the stage,” Tom prompts, his voice ever teasing.

Matt raises an eyebrow, leaning in closer to the camera. “Yeah, mate. Let’s hear it.”

Ewan feels a pulse of irritation, but he forces a casual grin, raising his glass. “Fine. Fine. There was this one time… during an interview… where I got... distracted.”

You raise an eyebrow, grinning wickedly as you catch his glance. “By what? A hard question?”

Ewan chuckles darkly, his gaze locked on you. “Nope. By a certain someone.”

The rest of the group catches on instantly, erupting in loud whoops and laughter. You laugh too, shaking your head, but the faint blush creeping up your neck doesn’t go unnoticed by Ewan.

“Ohhh, I remember,” Liv howls, her wine sloshing in her glass. “You'd go beet red! We even had a drinking game dedicated to those.”

"What?" Ewan asks, clearly confused.

"Nothing," Liv quickly mutters, but then she and Phia have to stifle their giggles.

You lean back in your chair, shaking your head. “By the way, I wasn’t distracting! I was just being professional.”

“Sure, love,” Matt chimes in, throwing a smirk your way. “You’ve always been very… professional.”

Ewan’s smile fades slightly as he watches the exchange. He tries to laugh it off, but there’s a knot forming in his chest that refuses to loosen.

Tom jumps in to keep the energy up. “Next one! Never have I ever... pretended to know something just to impress someone I liked.”

Matt and Ewan both freeze for a second. Tom’s eyes light up, knowing he’s hit something. Everyone else watches intently, waiting for one of them to crack.

Phia laughs, clearly enjoying the tension. “Oh, come on, boys. One of you’s gotta drink to this.”

Matt is the first to cave, lifting his glass with a sheepish grin. “Alright, guilty as charged.”

“Oh? And what was it?” Ewan asks, leaning forward, his tone sharper than he intended.

Matt shrugs, eyes flicking to you briefly. “Indie film. Thought I could impress someone by pretending I’d seen it. No idea what it was about.”

You snicker, rolling your eyes. “Points for trying, Smithy.”

“Cheers to trying too hard, I guess,” Ewan icily mutters.

Matt doesn’t respond immediately, but his jaw tightens as he drinks. 

Phia, loving the growing tension, grins wickedly as she leans toward the screen. “Alright, alright. This one might be for the silly boys. Never have I ever... gotten flustered because of someone I’m attracted to on set.”

Ewan’s heart jumps into his throat, and he catches your eye. The group goes silent for a split second before exploding in laughter.

“Oh, this is going to be good,” Tom says, rubbing his hands together in delight.

Ewan feels his face heating up, the alcohol loosening his control over his reactions. He tries to play it off, taking a deliberate sip of his drink, but he knows everyone’s watching him. Matt, unsurprisingly, is doing the same.

“Wait – both of you?” Emma teases, eyes darting between Ewan and Matt. “This is getting interesting.”

Bethany chuckles. “What’s this? A love triangle brewing? Well, I already know which side I’m on!”

Ewan can feel the weight of the question hanging in the air, even though it’s masked in humour. His heart pounds, but he keeps his face neutral. The laughter from the screen feels distant, his focus narrowing on you as you nervously sipped your drink.

Before anyone can linger on the moment too long, Tom jumps in with another devilish idea. “Next one: Never have I ever... met my celebrity crush.”

You sigh dramatically, lifting your glass. “Alright. Fine. I have.”

Matt’s smirk widens. “And who would that be?” 

You pause for a moment, glancing at Ewan briefly before you say, “Matt was my celebrity crush during his Doctor Who days.”

The group erupts into chaos – clapping, whistling, teasing jabs flying from every direction. Tom is practically falling out of his chair with laughter, clapping loudly. “Oh, that is brilliant! Drink up!”

Matt raises his glass, clearly enjoying the attention. “Well, can’t say I’m surprised.”

Ewan forces a smile, the jealousy burning under his skin. Just when he thinks it might cool down, Liv drops another bomb. “Alright, here’s a cheeky one. Never have I ever... had naughty public sex.”

The group’s reactions ranged from laughter to playful groans, but Ewan’s focus was solely on you. Your eyes went wide, and you quickly glanced at him, clearly panicking.

His phone buzzes on the table, while the rest of the group is busy answering – and attempting to avoid – the question. He looks down and sees a message from you.

My Darling: Don’t answer that.

- Why not?

My Darling: They’ll figure it out

- My love, hate to break it to you but I wasn’t celibate before we met

My Darling: You know how they think

-  It’s not a big deal.

My Darling: Come on. Please?

-  Say the magic word

My Darling: I just did.

- No you didn’t

My Darling: PLEASE don’t answer that.

- Not what I’m looking for

My Darling: Oh for fuck’s sake.

- What do you call me?

My Darling: Don’t answer, Mitchell.

- Nope

My Darling: Ugh. Ok.

My Darling: Baby, don’t answer that. I implore you. Baby, oh baby. 

Ewan can’t help but giggle to himself at your barely veiled sarcasm, just bleeding off the text message. His silly girl.

- And we have a winner!

My Darling: I hate u.

- Enough to fuck my brains out in a semi-public place

My Darling: Shut up, Mitchell.

- You love me

You glance up from your phone, eyes meeting Ewan’s on the screen. He’s grinning like the cat who got the cream, clearly loving watching you squirm. He leans back in his chair, keeping his glass lowered. “You know, I think I’m going to plead the fifth on this one.”

Tom and Fabien erupt into loud boos, but the rest of the group is laughing, already tipsy and entertained by the spectacle. Ewan feels a rush of satisfaction watching you blush even harder.

“Oh, come on!” Tom scoffs, clearly annoyed. “You can’t plead the fifth. This is a mostly British group call.”

“I’m in LA,” Ewan shoots back with a grin. “I’m allowed.”

“Hold on, hold on,” Harry interrupts, his eyes wide with confusion. “I’m sorry, what does ‘pleading the fifth’ mean?”

Emma responds, “I think that means you can choose not to answer.”

“What?” Harry practically yells, and nearly slides off the edge of his seat, making everyone laugh. “So I could have been using that all this time?”

“It’s an American thing, mate,” Bethany clarifies, trying to stifle her laughter.

“But Ewan’s doing it!” Harry protests. 

“I’m in LA so…” Ewan shrugs nonchalantly, a smug grin spreading across his face. 

“Ewan has a point,” you chime in, coming to his aid – and yours. “Just let the guy plead the fifth.”

Phia then points to you, mischief in her eyes. “Alright, babe, your turn. No pleading the fifth. You’re not in LA.”

“What?” you freeze. In your efforts not to get Ewan to answer, you forgot you had to avoid the same problem. Ewan just stares at your flustered image on the screen, mouth parted in disbelief. You think for a moment, then blurt out, “But I… also plead the fifth!”

“You’re not in the US!” Tom declares. “Nope, not gonna happen.”

“Come on,” you retort, scrambling for an excuse. “I could be in the US right now, how do you know?”

“Love,” Matt smirks, “I just saw you yesterday.”

“No, you didn’t,” you say immediately. “That was my twin sister.”

“Then she’s every bit as gorgeous as you are,” Matt quips, relishing the moment.

“Alright, you two,” Phia says, feeling the need to intervene for Ewan’s sake. “Okay, babe, no more dodging. You have to follow the rules.”

“I… I… oh for fuck’s sake,” you sigh in defeat. “Yes.”

The group erupts into drunken cheers, the noise practically deafening through Ewan’s speakers. He watches you laugh, clearly embarrassed, but enjoying the chaos.

Then, just as the cheers start to die down, Ewan raises his glass with a smug grin. “You know what? I changed my mind. I’ll answer too. Yes.”

The group explodes again –  Fabien banging on his desk, Tom howling with laughter, and Liv nearly spilling her wine in delight. Meanwhile, Ewan’s eyes remain locked on yours, the tension between you undeniable.

Fabien, already catching on, cheers loudly. “Yes, mate!”

You cover your face with both hands, utterly speechless. “Oh my god,” you exclaim, trying to process the turn of events.

“Oh,” Emma starts, then repeats with more gusto, “OH! So you two…”

Taglist: @namelesslosers @skymoonandstardust @valyrianflower @luckyfirebasement @omgsuperstarg @elissanatok @callsignwidow @sinistersnakey49 @darkwriteracademia @yyrzmomo @queenofshinigamis @luvaerina @shamelessblazecrown @mirandastuckinthe80s @elleinex0x0 @pierrotlu @aegonswife @strangersunghoon @lunampacheco @writer-ann-artist @gaiaea @of-swords-and-words @ateliefloresdaprimavera @m00n5t0n3 @helaenaluvr @peachysunrize @annie-ruk @luvly-writer @ananas26t @athenafaes @lovelyteenagebeard @mamawiggers1980 @moongirl27 @katherine93 @barnes70stark @justbelljust @cloudroomblog @somestufftoday @esposadomd @girl-in-the-chairs-void @insideyourimagination @vyctorya @wildrangers @onlyrealjoy @hotdismylife @thepurplecrown @just-fics-station @clarkysblog @urmomsgirlfriend1 @misfitbimbosblog (continued in comments ... )

Some notes in the margins...

A little something mainly for the Ewan girlies... 😉

Oh, and Liv hinted at a past bonus chapter if you can catch it ~

Anyhow - this was fun! At least Ewan seemed to think to so at the end there. 🥃🍷🥂

[blackbirdsblackberries]

I HATE THE NEW HERO

Pt 4: No luck today

Engineering is probably one of your good subjects - mainly due to the grades you get and the equipment you get to create for your second life.

That being said, your luck isn't very high right now because just as you enter the classroom you're called up to the office. Over the loud speaker. In front of everyone.

This is your last straw. You're going to actually break down and cry.

Taking a deep breath you head to the office and stand in front of the receptionist.

"Uh, hi.. I was called up?" You state to the distracted receptionist. "Huh? Okay. Go into the principal's room I guess." She waves you off dismissively and you hold back a retort.

You make your way to the room and knock on the door. It opens with the principal on the other side. "Ah, There you are. I was worried you wouldn't show! Please, have a seat." He opens the door wide enough for you to get in.

You enter and your eyes fall onto a boy with spiky black hair and tanned skin. His back is to you. Next to him is a taller, more bulkier man in a pressed suit.

Your stomach lurches, feeling ill all of a sudden. Your senses go off and you fight the urge to run away. You can't tell who these people are but something isn't right.

Slowly you make your way to a third chair that was placed at the desk. You glance at the two males and have to swallow the bile - it was none other than Damian al Ghul-Wayne and Bruce Wayne. Your eyes immediately snap forward and you clench your fists slightly.

There's no doubt Tim had said something horrid about you to them, maybe he snitched on the fights you two had, whatever it was now you're in deep shit.

You try to get a read on them but it was near impossible, they were both stoic. It didn't help that you refuse to look at the two. The principal sits down at his desk and crosses his arms.

"So, I have been made aware of some things that you have done recently, (Reader). According to numerous anonymous reports you have cyber bullied someone, picked fights, had plans to build dangerous weapons and had hit animals... Listen, you're a good kid but with what I have here I might have to expel you."

Fuck. You can't get expelled your parents would throw you out or something! You can't! You didn't hit animals! The most you hit was a fly! Dangerous weapons? There's nothing like that at all, besides the plans for you superhero weapons. Those aren't dangerous though. You cyber bullied your vigilante persona to make it more realistic! You never pick fights - you don't want to risk hurting someone with your increased strength!

Though, something makes you freeze. If you were called here for that then why are the two Wayne's here?

You think the principal is a telepath because he speaks up.

"You're very lucky Bruce Wayne and his son are kind enough to vouch for you though they said they wanted a favor in return." Oh. Manipulation. You scrunch your eyebrows, they probably reported me alongside Tim. They're doing this so they can hold it above my head and make me complacent or subservient to them.

Maybe it'd be best if Aranea faked their death. Started a new identity or something... You probably wouldn't go through with it but it's a nice thought.

Well, you don't have much of a choice. You can still silently make your hate known towards the vigilante and it's not worth losing a scholarship over. Especially with parents like yours.

"... Fine... Thank you for this offer, Mr Wayne and Mr al Ghul-Wayne" you mutter. God it's shameful, you want to crawl into your skin and die. Was it worth putting your dignity on the line? You're not too sure. What you're sure of though is that you will get to eat tonight. If your family has the money...

Bruce nods his head in affirmation and puts on his Brucie smile, one that even you struggle to see past. "Of course, what kind of person would I be if I would overhear something so tragic and not do anything about it. We can go over the favor later." He states. You hold back a grimace though you're sure everyone can see the effort.

You don't know what to respond with, humiliated enough by this clear manipulation. You just give him a double thumbs up. Damian stares at you weirdly and the principal raises a brow. Bruce however chuckles, though it's forced.

The principal ushers you out of his office and tells you to wait out the front with the receptionist for Bruce and Damian while they chat some more with the principal himself.

After waiting for a bit the door opens and the two males walk down the hallway to where you are. Damian scowls and glares at you while Bruce looks to you blankly, detached.

You stand and awkwardly rub your hands on your uniform. Something they clearly don't miss as their eyes snap to the motion.

"uh, thank you for this opportunity... What's the favor?" You managed to work up the courage to speak without stuttering like a madman. Something you believed you should get a pat on the back for because the two guys were terrifying.

"The favor is simple really," Bruce starts his Brucie personality back in play "Stop speaking badly of Aranea and don't pick fights with my ward, Tim. Easy right?" You nod. You expected this. Honestly you should be a detective or something you think to yourself.

Nah, that's Batman's job.

You pick up your bag and head to the door, Bruce however had moved while you had seemingly zoned out while in thought and was standing in front of the door while talking to the receptionist and in your haste to leave you bumped into his side.

He automatically puts his arm on your shoulder to steady you and your mind connects the dots.

Bruce has the same build as Batman. Batman seemingly adores Aranea, or at least you think so, he's hard to read - like Bruce (for both being hard to read and adoring Aranea to a weird point). Same amount of kids. Plus Batman had to be rich if he could have a plane and a new looking suit after gruesome nights.

God, how did you not see this before...

Amidst your freaky reality check you fail to notice Bruce trying to get your attention until he snaps in your face - like how your dad does. You hate that.

Your head shoots up and you take a couple steps back while muttering an apology while Bruce stands there with a raised brow, confused while Damian looks at you with disdain as if you soiled a good outfit.

Feeling humiliated and terrified you quickly move around the two men and out of the door. You're in deep shit now... Even something as simple as secretly knowing the identities of the vigilantes that watch over Gotham is a death wish.

This is going to be the worst day of school, so, you decide to leave. You go to the sick bay and get a slip to leave school and you do.

You run home as fast as possible and get to your room. Your mother is out cold in her room with some man she met from the bar so you shouldn't have to worry about her.

You take a couple deep breaths and contemplate on what to do now that you left school, you could catch up on assignments, you could take a nap, or you could go on patrol...

It's daytime and you're pretty sure Signal will be patrolling today, you like Signal, he's a chill guy. Now though, now you don't really want to be near any of the vigilantes.

You decide to check your phone to see what area Signal is patrolling, it comes up in the GC, Westside Gotham at the Midtown area.

Okay. You can do East Park Side then. It's not your favorite area but at least you won't be confronted with one of the vigilantes so soon. Plus, the park is nice.

You suit up and head out. East Park side wasn't far away from you due to the lack of money your family has you are stuck in downtown.

You spend a majority of your time on patrol, helping people and just hanging around. Soon, much to your surprise, you get a call from Batman.

"Aranea. What are you doing patrolling without your comm on and without informing us?" He sounds as serious as ever, usually you'd roll your eyes but right now you're struck with fear. His voice holds maliciousness and anger deep under it. The very same way that Bruce Wayne had spoken to you. You don't want to admit it but knowing the identities of these heroes makes it more suffocating to be around them.

It also meant you had to be much more careful around them.

"Uh... I was bored at home so I went out on patrol?" You respond, trying to keep the energy in your voice, even if it felt like you were going to explode.

"That doesn't answer my question." He responds, you're sure he's picked up on the fakeness of your cheerfulness. "Right! Ha! Forgot about that. I didn't wanna disturb you all! Plussssss, Signal is patrolling so it's all good!" You laugh it off.

Batman isn't laughing. When does he ever?

"That's no reason to not inform us or at the very least turn on your comm. What if something happened to you? What if you died? You aren't invincible. You'll die in that stupid suit if you don't work with us!" You wince slightly. Fuck him. Does he really think you need him and the others to survive? Not to mention him calling your suit stupid, sure it's not perfect but stupid is just overkill. He only even thinks it's stupid because it isn't made with his money!

You honestly couldn't find the effort to continue talking to him, so with your faux cheerfulness you decide to end the call. "I get it. I'll know better next time! Bye bye!"

Sometimes you wish you were old enough to drink.

[soft-girl-musings]

Stranger Danger

Steven Grant x Fem!Reader

cross-posted to ao3

MK Spring Bingo entry #5

tags: reader is being stalked & responds in a way the author (a woman) has been taught to, emotional protector steven grant to the rescue, no use of y/n

wc: 1,138

fic summary: There's safety in numbers, do you want mine? (too soon?)

_____________________

“Oops, careful!”

Steven drops the last of his veggie wrap as a pair of kids rush past the bench he’d been hunched over. As he picks up the debris, he sees where one of them dropped their hat. He picks it up and half-jogs after them to return it.

“Gotta stay aware of our surroundings, yeah? Don’t want to lose our valuables.” The kid rolls their eyes but thanks him before running off to catch up with their friend.

“Oh my gosh, hi!”

Steven turns around to find you walking swiftly toward him, your smile too wide and tone too familiar.

He’s never seen you before.

“... hello,” he answers cautiously, taking one step back but failing to put much distance between the two of you. You practically cling to his side when you approach, takeaway cup and phone in hand.

“Sorry I’m late, but you are terrible at giving directions, mister.” Taking his arm, you begin to walk away from where you’d appeared.

This wouldn’t be the first time he’s forgotten conversations or plans. But as he racks his brain for something, anything tied to you in his memory, Steven notices the panic in your eyes and the slight waver in your voice.

Your hands shake a bit as you unlock your phone, passing your cup to him. He takes it, still bewildered but obedient. “I swear, the cafe never spells your name right. Let me make a note for next time.” You type swiftly, showing him the screen.

being followed, please pretend you're my boyfriend

Steven doesn’t know you.

But he nods, grasping your arm closer with his free hand and gives his most convincing grin. “Steven with a ‘V’, love.”

Relief instantly washes over your features and you relax a little. “Right. I’ll remember that… Steven.”

His smile grows before he remembers why you're holding onto him. “Do you want to sit down? Or go somewhere else, maybe I could call someone–”

“N-no, it’s fine. Let’s just sit. In plain sight,” you half-whisper. Steven nods, ushering you back to the bench in the middle of the busy square. When you sit, you don't let go of his arm.

Instead, you type into your phone as you speak. “Lovely weather we’re having, isn’t it?” Steven glaces at your notes app again.

do you see a man in a black jacket?

Steven scans the area, careful not to look too suspicious. Unlike the person he’s sure you’re referring to: a man in dark clothes, hands shoved into his pockets and rigid as he looks around with increasing urgency. His prominent frown grows when he sees Steven next to you.

“Yeah,” Steven says to both your questions. He looks away from the menacing figure, but sets your drink down and wraps his arm around you. He's glad to feel you settle into his side, still shaking but catching your breath.

“I take it you don’t know Mr. Black Jacket?”

“No, I do. Sort of. He’s a regular customer of mine,” you sigh. “One who doesn’t know how to take ‘no’ for an answer.”

“Ah.” Steven keeps the guy in his periphery, splitting his focus between him and you. “Stalker, then?”

You freeze up at the term. “Yeah… he’s been pretty relentless.” 

You meet his eyes, which are swiftly filling with concern. “Thanks again for… this. I usually find a mom or another woman to walk with me until he leaves, but I saw you with those kids and just… panicked, I guess.”

“S’not a problem, love.” Steven knocks your foot with his, drawing a small smile from you. “Glad to help you feel safe.”

You laugh a little. You let your gaze drift over to the man in black, an uneasy pit growing in your stomach when you briefly make eye contact.

“He usually goes away after a while. I've told the police, but they can't do anything unless he… you know.” Your brow furrows as your grip loosens. “I don't mean to take over your afternoon, but would you mind waiting with me?”

In that moment, you could have asked Steven for the moon and he'd find a way to lasso it down for you. 

He squeezes your hand. “‘Course I can. Lovely day with lovely company, quite the ideal afternoon in my books.” 

Steven dives right into talking about anything and everything that comes to mind– which, as you learn, is a lot. Normally he'd hit a wall after a few minutes, either because he'd realized he had talked himself in circles, or his less-than-captive audience was visibly zoned out. But you hang on his every word, grateful to be arm in arm with a stranger describing the supposed viscosity of ancient Egyptian embalming oil. It's a welcome distraction. 

So distracting, in fact, that after an hour you realize the crowd has thinned around you. With Mr. Black Jacket nowhere in sight.

“I think he's gone,” you sigh with relief. Steven stands when you do, handing your things back.

“Patience won out in the end,” he beams. You see a brief look of panic cross his features.

“He doesn't know where you live, does he? Do you need an escort?” Steven's already taken a ludicrously long lunch break, but the inevitable lecture from Donna would be worth it if it meant ensuring your safety.

You shake your head. “I've been careful.” Extending your hand, you smile. “It was nice to meet you, Steven with a ‘V’.”

“Likewise, love.” He shakes your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze. Another look crosses his face before he continues.

“Do you want my mobile number?” His words come out too fast; if you hadn't spent the past hour listening to him, you might have missed what he said. “Just in case you need someone to wait with you again, or keep an eye out. Would that be alright?” He shakes his head, stepping back. “'Matter of fact, forget I said anything, don't want you to think you've traded one creep for another–”

“Sure.”

Your simple answer stops him in his tracks. “Oh, you don’t have to–”

“No, it’s fine. Really. When you offered, it felt nice to know someone could be in my corner on this side of town.”

You take out a scrap of paper and a pen from your bag. “How about this: you write it down, and I’ll add your contact if I ever need my knight in shining armor again.”

Steven concedes, pen and paper in hand as he scribbles his number down (then asks for a new paper in case the first was too illegible).

When you leave, he watches until you turn the corner. He goes the opposite direction, back to the museum. Part of him hopes you’ll never have to reach out, for your own sake. The rest of him hopes you do anyway.

_____________________

A/N: oh steven, the man that you are. a couple more bingo prompts will be focused on this dude, which is excellent practice for some exciting projects down the line...

as always, ty for reading <3

event tags: @moonknight-events @spacecowboyhotch @juneknight

addtl tags: @mrs-lockley @lunar-ghoulie @shadystarlightgentlemen @casa-boiardi @nerdieforpedro (lmk if you'd like to be added to/removed from this wee tag list)

[reigningqueenofwords]

Pinky Promise

Pairing: Dean x Reader Word count: 1,409

Read on AO3

“I have to go to my aunt’s wedding this weekend. So I won’t be able to play with you alllll weekend. I’m gonna be so bored.” You sighed, lying on the floor of the tree house your father built you a couple years prior. At 10, it was still your favorite place in the world. 

Dean made a face. “That sucks!” He was your best friend in the whole world, and you spent every weekend playing together. “What am I supposed to do? Play with Sammy?” 

You giggled at that. “Guess so.” You smiled at him. “What’re we gonna do when we grow up and get married?” You pouted. “We won’t be able to play every weekend together.” 

“Well, I just won’t get married if I can’t play with you.” He said easily. 

Sitting up, you had the look on your face that told him you had an idea. “What if we make a pinky swear?” You started. “If when we’re 25, we’re not married to other people… we get married.” Why wouldn’t you want to marry your best friend? 

He thought for a minute and held up his pinky. “Alright.” He grinned when you looped your pinky finger with his. 

It had been almost 15 years since that day. You hadn’t thought of that day in ages. Dean was still your best friend, too. That never changed, and neither of you let anyone get between the pair of you. Sure, there had been girls over the years that tried to get between you, but he swiftly dumped them. Chewing on your lip, you pulled up a text to Dean. Do you remember the pinky promise we made when we were 10? You sent. You and Dean shared a birthday, meaning both of you would be turning 25 in just over a month. 

After a few minutes, he replied. Sure do! 😉 He sent, making you chuckle and roll your eyes. Why, what’s up? Meet someone and need to back out? 

Your eyebrows shot up at that. Actually, I was just asking if you remembered. I mean, our birthdays are in a month. Don’t you think you should start looking at rings, mr? 😛 You sent, sitting up and looking around your room. It was December 20th, and you’d be driving home to your parents in a few days. You’d see Dean then, too. His parents lived a block over from yours. 

Who says I haven’t been doing that already? Hmmmm? He countered. 

You highly doubted that was the case. Are you trying to tell me that you, Dean Winchester, man who has never dated anyone for more than a year…has been looking at engagement rings and actually plans to make good on this 15 year old pinky promise? Getting up, you made your way to your kitchen. It was almost dinner time, but you didn’t know if you were actually hungry. Your mind was on overdrive. As you got older, you felt Dean would laugh off your pinky promise. He’d say you were just a couple of dumb kids. 

I take pinky promises extremely seriously. Especially ones with my best friend. He sent, making you smile softly at that. 

Please just don’t propose at Christmas in front of everyone lol That’s too much attention for my liking. You knew he’d understand. Small bits of attention were fine, but you liked blending into the background. He was the more outgoing of the two of you. 

I promise 😀 He assured you. What day are you getting here, anyway? 

The idea of dinner forgotten, you leaned against the counter. On the 23rd. You?  

You watched the little bubbles pop up on your phone, hoping he would get there early, too. Guess I’m getting there on the 23rd, too. Meet me in the tree house? I’ll bring the beer, you bring the pizza? 

Grinning, you giggled. Deal. Meet me there at about 4? 

It’s a date! 

The afternoon of the 23rd, you stepped into your parents house. “Dad!” You called out, dropping your bags. It was 2pm, so you had two hours before Dean showed up. 

“There’s my girl!” He grinned, pulling you into a hug. “How was your drive?”

“Good.” You told him. “We want to hang out in the tree house, but it’s cold. Help me hang up some blankets or something so we won’t freeze?” You asked, keeping your arms around him. 

He chuckled. “I did that yesterday. Dean called and tried to offer to pay for anything I need to make it a bit warmer out there. You could sleep out there. I made it so warm.” He said proudly. 

“Oh wow!” You chuckled. “Thank you! Where’s mom?” Although you’d seen them for Thanksgiving, you missed them a lot. 

“Getting ready for our date. I’m taking her out while you and Dean act like kids in the tree house again.” He kissed the top of your head. 

You laughed, looking forward to this time with your parents, and your best friend. As far as you knew, no one but the pair of you knew of your pact. You never mentioned it to your parents, or other friends. Dean never told you he’d told anyone, and he wasn’t one to be very open with many people. However, you also knew all parents involved would be excited. Your parents loved Dean, and his parents loved you. 

Dean hadn’t been lying. He had been looking at rings for you. He’d snuck into your childhood bedroom and borrowed a ring from your jewelry box when he was there for Thanksgiving. This way, he knew what size ring to get. He didn’t want to risk getting the wrong size. 

What you didn’t know was that part of the reason he never dated anyone for too long was because he kept this pact in mind. It had always been you. He crossed his fingers that you’d both reach 25, unmarried, and not in a serious relationship. 

He pulled into your parent’s driveway, grabbing the beer from the passenger’s seat. Part of him felt like he was coming home every time he got there. Smiling to himself, he made his way to the backyard. He could see some light from inside the tree house, and got excited. You were already in there. “Honey! I’m home!” He called, making his way up. It was a bit awkward with the bag with beer, but he managed. 

“Dean!” You beamed when you saw him. As soon as he was completely in the tree house, you all but tackled him. “I’ve missed you.” You pouted as you pulled away. 

He chuckled. “Well, here I am.” He swallowed. “I have something for you.” 

“Dean, Christmas is in two days. You can’t wait two days to give me my Christmas present?” You teased. 

“This isn’t your Christmas present. That’s in my trunk.” He told you, pulling out the small ring box. “I know we were just a couple silly kids when we made that pinky promise, but you’ve remained my best friend for all these years. You know just what to say on the days where everything has gone wrong. There’s no one else I could ever picture myself being with for the rest of my life. Will you make good on that pinky promise and marry me?” 

Your eyes were wide, and you felt a tear fall down your cheek. “Yes!” You grinned, watching him slip on the ring. “How long have you been planning this?” You giggled. 

“I borrowed an old ring of yours at Thanksgiving.” He admitted. “It’s on my nightstand. Kinda didn’t wanna give it back yet. And we spent a lot of time in this tree house, where else would I propose to you?” 

You couldn’t stop smiling. “Guess we should talk about moving closer together, huh? Or moving in together?”

“Actually…” 

Furrowing your brows, you weren’t sure what he was going to say. “What?” 

He looked proud. “I put a down payment on a house. Just a couple streets over.” He told you. “Your dad already has plans to buy a treehouse in that backyard.” 

“My dad knew about all this?” 

Dean shook his head. “He knows I’m buying that house, and that I’d like a treehouse like this one, but I didn’t tell him I was proposing.” While he knew your dad would approve, your dad might have let something slip. “So, looks like we have a wedding to plan, sweetheart.” 

“Damn right we do!” 

[bruciemilf]

AU where Thomas and Martha don't die, but Batman's still a thing!

Instead of Bruce becoming Batman, its Thomas. He's already a huge help to the city, so this nocturnal passion is for sport.

If it wasn't obvious enough, he's not the most stable guy. But he's a loving dad and exemplary husband, so it's mostly fine.

God forbid men have hobbies.

He specifically picked up a bat theme to hopefully cure Bruce of his fear! Just imagine that 6'5 error of nature cladded in black, claws with his costume cause he's sexy like that,

"See? I'm not scary at all!" But Bruce is already sobbing and hiding behind Alfred.

"Martha, you'll never guess who I saw on patrol tonight. Bruce's college roomate! The blonde one with the glasses and gay vibes. "

" Oliver?"

"Oliver who?"

" Queen?"

" Well! I think that fits you better, amore."

" Bruce's childhood friend? Known eachother since infancy? Came to you for tech?"

"Bruce had FRIENDS?"

Bruce, from the other room, " Her name is Harley! You paid her college tuition and killed her dad."

" I've never met her in my life, and i keep my kill list detailed.Anyway, I adopted her. Shes seeing that clown boy and I think his superpower is boring me to death."

The batkids still get taken in, of course. Bruce is already a full adult and outgrew his Robin costume. He just barges in with a feral Jason and Dick, " Look, Brucie! Papa's got brothers for you!"

But Bruce? Looks at these two snarling kids, kicking, thrashing, clawing, and takes them in his arms, " Babies. My babies."

" Uh... Come again,,-" But Thomas raised a spoiled BRAT, so Bruce definetly bites him and throws a tantrum until he agrees to pass full custody. Naturally, Alfred and Martha have no sympathy.

"But you're too young to be a dad!"

" I'm 27."

" Young. A fetus. Cousin Gomez's newborn is older than you." Bruce is already drawing the adoption papers. Fight him about it.

Naturally, instead of dating his rogues, Thomas parents them. Imagine you're Selina Kyle and Batman scolds you for getting caught by the cops, " You know better. Villain privileges REVOKED."

Mr Freeze? Thomas gets it. Do what you gotta do, King. You need some pocket money?

Khoa? Problematic son. Thomas adores him and brags about him to every family reunion. "Your daughter tried to poison you for inheritance? That's adorable, Agatha. Khoa kidnapped Alfred last week. Beat that."

Ivy? Thomas invites her to beer and game night and plays matchmaker with her and Harley.

Waylon is his favourite. Naturally, he's the only one adopted legally.

He fist fights Ra's for Talia's custody and she is desperately shoving Damian in his face. Trust her. You don't want to go through with it.

the image of Batman not being a broody, stoic vigilante and instead Gomez Addams with a cape makes me weep

[mochiwrites]

Putting Scarian in situation 36. Make those fools cuddle!

36. Avalanche/huddle for warmth (put that guy in situations!)

reblogs do more than likes!

"Welp, we're definitely gonna be stuck here for a while." Scar glances back at Grian, finding the avian tucked against the cave wall. His wings are wrapped around himself, trying to use the feathery appendages to block out the cold.

"Brilliant," Grian grumbles in return, much to Scar's amusement.

The pair had decided to go caving in an unexplored part of the server, much to the joy of their friends. They've been acting all weird with Grian and Scar lately, and Scar would be willing to bet that there's some correlation between their friends weird behavior and the heaps of powdered snow blocking the exit of the cave. And of course, neither Scar nor Grian have any proper tools for escape.

They have no choice but to wait until the snow either melts or some other plan comes to mind.

"Not much else we can do besides wait, I'm afraid my dear!" Scar sing-songs, turning on his heel to walk over to his husband. He joins him on the ground, sitting beside him. "Though I think I know a way to pass the time." He wiggles his eyebrows at Grian, causing the avian to roll his eyes.

Grian shoves him playfully, "I'm not sure if I want to know if you've got that look in your eye." The edges of his lips quirk up, teasing in nature. "It spells nothing but trouble, Scar."

Scar gapes at him, "Trouble?! I can't believe you'd call me trouble!"

"Scar, I say this with all the love in my heart, you live up to the name," Grian replies, moving to drop his head against Scar's shoulder. "I think I have good reason to doubt you."

"Well fine then." Scar moves to cross his arms over his chest. "I guess you don't want to cuddle for warmth with your nice beefy husband."

Grian makes a face, nose scrunching up as he whacks Scar with his wing. "First of all, never call yourself 'beefy' again. That was just... wrong," he demands, earning a fit of giggles from Scar. "Second of all, how dare you assume I don't want to cuddle for warmth with you, Mr. Goodtimes." He goes for a scandalized look, earning a bright grin from Scar.

"Oh well, I don't know, Mr. Goodtimes, I think I should withhold on your cuddles since you said I'm trouble!" Scar huffs in return, trying to look affronted but the act falls apart incredibly easily. His smile is a dead giveaway.

Warmth runs right through Grian at their shared last name, starting at his chest and expanding across his body. His gaze softens before a mischievous look overtakes him and he crawls right into Scar's lap. "You wouldn't."

Scar's arms settle around his waist, pulling him in, "Oh, but I would!" Yet he contradicts himself by pressing Grian against him, sharing his warmth. Grian lets out a soft, content sigh, wrapping Scar in his wings as comfortably as he can. "But maybe not when it's freezing like this."

"Mhm, sure Scar," Grian chuckles, leaving a kiss under his jaw. "You're really warm." He snuggles further into the man, humming contently.

"So are you, lovebird," Scar murmurs softly, laying his head against Grian's. "The warmest I've ever met."

[echobx]

not my type 2 - Rafe Cameron x plus size!fem!reader

summary: Rafe comes to visit you unexpectedly and things don't quite go like you want them to

warnings: swearing, smut (p in v (unprotected), reverse cowgirl, missionary (it just happened, I can't explain it), fingering (semi-public), dirty talk, edging)

word count: 3.7k

author's note: part 2 because I couldn't stop thinking about it. I hope you like it. (also, if any of you have any clue about real estate, you are allowed to yell at me bc all my knowledge comes from watching those shows on Netflix...)

masterlist part 1

“It's gonna have to work somehow,” you sigh and rub your hand over your forehead. You are exhausted, having been up all night to find a solution to the problem your team is facing.  Your head perks up at a knock on the door. “Excuse me, miss, the Cameron account is waiting in your office. He says he has an appointment, although I couldn't find it in your calendar.”  “He doesn't have a fucking appointment,” you yell in frustration. “I'm sorry,” you apologize immediately, close to tears but not about to start crying in front of your coworkers. “It's not your fault. I'll just go and send him away.”

“Why are you here?” you ask while entering your office, and he turns around to smile at you.  “I'm guessing you're not happy to see me?”  “It's really bad timing. You could've called,” you sigh exasperatedly while looking through your emails.  “You didn't leave a number,” he reminds you, and you slowly pick up your head to look at him.  “You have the office number,” you force a smile.  “Yeah, I'm not gonna call your receptionist to ask if you got time to get drunk or need a good fuck,” he says while walking around your desk and standing next to you.  “Would be inappropriate, yes,” you look up at him, but you freeze as you see your dad step inside. 

“Y/n, you didn't tell me Mr. Cameron was coming in. I would've welcomed you earlier, Sir,” he introduces himself and Rafe shakes his hand.  “It's really no issue, Mr. y/l/n. I'm in really good hands with your daughter,” Rafe charms him.  “She's the best,” your dad praises you, and you nod along, too tired to actually care. “Now, let me show you around,” he leads him out of your office and Rafe quickly turns his head to give you a slightly panicked look. You mouth a “have fun” at him, and then he's gone, and you are allowed to get back to work. 

“Listen, if we switch the staging company-”  “That's not gonna help with the interest rate, James,” you sigh, pacing the room.  “Was just a suggestion,” he mutters.  “I'm calling it. This isn't going anywhere. Let's go home and come back tomorrow morning with some new ideas on how to fix this shit,” you suggest, and the whole team lets out a sigh of relief.  “And here we have- Honey, what are you doing?” your dad interrupts you and your colleagues while packing up.  “Going home. We've been here for over 24 hours,” you explain.  “Can we talk in my office?” he asks, and you follow diligently, leaving Rafe and the others alone in the conference room while you go talk to him. 

“It's not a good look to leave early, especially in front of a partner,” he admonishes your choices.  “I honestly don't care what Mr. Cameron thinks, dad. It's my team, my decision.”  “Is the issue at least fixed?”  “No, and it won't get better if I don't give them any rest. I haven’t slept or showered since in two days, dad,” you complain, and he shakes his head but caves nevertheless.  “Fine. But you'll have to come to dinner tonight. This Cameron guy is a big part of our modern strategy, we can't let him slip away.”  “Okay,” you nod and walk back out of the office and towards the conference room to tell your team it was okay to leave. 

“Rough day?” Rafe asks while following you back to your office.  “Rough week. Nothing you need to concern yourself with,” you huff but inadvertently stop and turn to look up at him. “Look, all I wanna do is go home take a nice bath, sleep for two hours and then meet both you and my parents for dinner because apparently I don't have any fucking choice. So, just go back to your hotel or do some sightseeing, I don't care, but just go.” “Can I ask something before I leave?” A smile tugging on his lip.  “You just did.”  “When was the last time you actually had sex?”  You turn to make sure there was no one around who could've heard him before pulling him with you into your office.  “You can't just ask shit like that. Especially here,” you hit him against the chest, but he takes your wrist and keeps your hand flat to his body.  “See, I tried hooking up with someone else, multiple someones, but that just didn't hit the same way. It's purely a practical issue, all right.” God, how you hate his macho behavior as if you'd ever fall for it, or him.  “I'm still not answering that preposterous question.”  “So, you didn't? Was there no one or were they just shit?” he asks, a little too cocky for your taste.  “I'm going home now,” you tell him again and start putting your laptop in your bag.  “I didn't book a hotel room. Didn't think I'd need one, to be honest,” he admits and you laugh.  “What makes you think that?”  But he doesn't reply and just looks at you with his blue eyes, eyes that haunt your dreams and sexual fantasies.  “You think ‘cause we hooked up once, you'll get some kinda claim over me? Like, I'm supposed to throw myself at you the moment you step onto the stage? Well, you guessed wrong, darling,” you sneer and go to walk out of the office when he grabs your wrist.  “You didn't answer my question.”  “Fuck, okay, fine. It's shit. It's not- I'm not gonna fucking praise you, asshole,” you scoff and start walking again. “Are you coming or not?” 

“I'm still gonna take my bath,” you remind him as his hands find your face to hold onto it while he's kissing you and stumbling backwards out of the elevator, right into your flat.  “Fuck, you can have as many baths as you want. Just lemme fuck you,” he begs after pulling away.  “Jesus, you're needy,” you laugh as he rips your tight dress down, making your tits spill out. “You know that thing has a zipper right?” you ask as he starts kneading and kissing your tits like there's no tomorrow. You're getting wetter by the second, and he doesn't seem to want to stop and actually help you out of the dress.  “Rafe, please, just a minute,” you beg and he holds up to look at you.  “Whaddya need, sugar?” His light southern drawl is making you even needier than you care to admit.  “Can you open the zipper, so I can take this shit thing off?”  “Sure, can do, sweetie,” he puts too much weight into the pet name for it to not be a dig at your dad.  “Don't call me that again, please. Anything but that,” you sigh as he helps you out. 

“You know your dad's an asshole, right?”  “Aren't they all?” you huff walking over to the window front that looks out onto Central Park and leaning your head against the glass. “I grew up with him. Of course, I know he's an ass. You think I turned out this sweet ‘cause he was nice?”  “What would he actually say if he knew?” Rafe steps closer to you, opening the knot in your hair and kissing your shoulder.  “Congratulate me or disown me. Either way, it just proves his suspicions right,” you shake your head.  “Why? He thinkin’ you slept your way to the top or what?”  “Oh no, that's all nepotism. No, he thinks I slept with my professors because he can't believe that I made valedictorian and was named party queen of Harvard at the same time.”  “Did you?”  “Once, before he was my Professor, and it didn't have any effect on my grade,” you admit but have to laugh at how absurd it sounds.  “You feeling better now?” he asks while rubbing your arms with his huge hands. “A bit. I'm still not your friend or anything,” you remind him and he laughs.  “Business partners and fuck buddies, I'm okay with that.”  “Good. Grab that chair,” you tell him and point at a lounge chair that stands a bit off to your right. 

As soon as the chair is in place you push him down on it, straddling him in it and kissing him relentlessly. His hands are all over you, unclasping your bra in the back and making your tits jiggle as they drop.  “Jesus fucking Christ, why are you so hot,” Rafe rasps, running his hands over the fat on your belly before pressing his face into your chest to motorboat you as best as he could.  His childlike wonder, when it comes to you, makes you somewhat happy about the fact that he had dropped by unexpectedly.  “Rafe?”  “Uh-huh,” he moans against your skin.  “I, uh… I don't have any condoms here,” you admit, and he rips his head up.  “You what? Why? Why would you say that to me right now? I'm already hard for fuck's sake,” he complains loudly.  “I'm sorry that I'm inconveniencing you there, you ass,” you snap and get up, picking up your bra and dress and leaving for the bathroom.  “Fuck, sugar, just come back,” he pleads, but you don't even think about it and instead strip yourself completely to take a shower. 

“Okay, listen, I can just go down find a store, buy some and get back here. Easy,” Rafe suggests, and you roll your eyes without looking at him.  “Have you considered that I might not give a shit, jerk?”  “Oh yeah? What's your brilliant idea, miss Harvard,” he scoffs.  “How often do you get tested?” you ask and turn your head far enough to be able to see him stand behind you, nothing but tight boxers left on his body.  “Every other month,” he shrugs.  “When was the last time?”  “Week ago.”  “And?”  “Clean. I'm not risking it, with, like, quick hookups and shit.”  “Me neither. But I've never wanted to fuck a guy more than once either,” you say and turn back to the water that's steaming up the tiled room.  “You want me to fuck you raw?” he asks, sounding as if you had just offered him the job of his life.  “Jesus, don't get yourself so hyped already. I'm just saying it's a potential possibility that needs considering.”  “What about-”  “I've had an IUD since I turned 18 and it's never once failed me. I think it's gonna be fine,” you turn around to face him fully; eyes trailing down to the massive bulge in his boxers.  “So, I'm guessing you've never been fucked while looking down onto Central Park?” you ask with a wide smile, and he shakes his head. 

Rafe is back in the chair when you let yourself down on him, feeling every ridge and vein of his huge cock and you both groan at the feeling.  His hand is trailing over your back, drawing lines over it while you let yourself breathe to adjust to him just enough so it doesn't hurt too much.  You turn your head to look at him over your shoulder. “If you wanna tap out, just pinch me. I'm not gonna listen to anything else, I just wanna make that clear.” “Noted,” he grins, and you lean forward in your seat and plant your feet in the ground before starting to bounce on his dick.  “Shit, I missed looking at this ass,” he grunts, and you start bouncing a bit harsher, forcing yourself down on him while moaning loudly. 

“Talk to me,” you beg as you keep fucking yourself with his cock.  “You're a real slut, fucking your professor? I bet it turns you on to know how weak you make them. To know they have no control. Making them your little bitch,” his words are frequently interrupted by heavy pants and your excessive moaning, but he continues anyway. “Not with me. You're mine now. I don't give a shit who you were before. All you are now is my little whore, who lets me fuck her whenever I want. Right?” “Yes, daddy,” you cry out and do your best to keep bouncing on him, your hand finding your clit and toying with it.  “You'll let me fill you up with my cum, like the pretty little cumslut that you are. Isn't that right?” he asks and thrusts up into you, meeting the movement of your hips and making you scream as he defiles your cunt.  “Speak up, sugar,” he demands, pulling on your hair and bending you back.  “Gonna make a mess for you, daddy. Just for you.” The tears are running down your cheeks when your orgasm hits you, and he follows instantly, fucking his seed even deeper into you before letting go of your hair and allowing you to get up. 

“Can you walk?” he asks, and you nod while dragging yourself over to your bed and falling face-first into the fresh linen.  “I thought I was imagining it, that my memory was skewed,” you mumble into the fabric. “But my memory doesn't come even close to this.”  “Could say the same,” he praises you, and you can't help but blush.  “Have you ever tried vanilla sex?” you ask out of pure curiosity, and he shakes his head while walking over.  “Not a big fan of the lovey-dovey bullshit.”  “Same. That's why I prefer reverse cowgirl, less personal, but I'm still in control for the most part,” you say after turning around to lie on your back.  “We, uhm, could just do it. Like a bucket list thing. Just so we know how it is,” he suggests and you laugh. “Yeah sure.”  “I'm serious. I mean, what's the worst that could happen? We fall in love? As if,” he huffs.  “I'll sue you if you do,” you tell him before pulling him into you and somehow crawling backwards onto the bed. He kisses you, and you feel like you're melting into him, into his touch, his being; all of him. 

His swollen tip is nudging at your clit, and you grasp down and put him to your aching hole, pushing him into you just slightly and your eyes already roll back at the feeling. Your senses feel heightened and dull at the same time, as if you are floating while on fire.  “Look at me,” Rafe demands, holding onto your neck and squeezing just enough to make you whimper. You stare into his eyes, the blue is gone, and he starts to smile as he slowly pushes into you. Your eyes widen at the pleasantly painful stretch he's giving your pussy.  And his lips find yours, muffling the moans that threaten to slip out as he pounds into you. But he lets off, kissing your neck, sucking on it and pulling your leg up to get a better angle. 

“I'm gonna cum,” you cry pathetically and he laughs.  “No, you're not. You're mine, baby, don't forget that.”  “Please, Rafe.” You are begging once again, and his attack on your tired cunt is just getting worse with every passing minute. You had never begged for an orgasm before. Never had wanted to. But Rafe's way of fucking you is inherently different to anything you had ever felt before.  “Not gonna happen,” he grins down at you, and you whine, but he keeps you pinned down right where he wants you to be. Your hands are clawing at his back, trying to hold onto him for dear life, to not lose yourself entirely. 

“Tell me,” he slows, and it's pure torture, slowly dragging his big cock half out of you before slamming back in, giving voice to the most obscene squelching sound you'd ever heard your pussy make.  “I'm still not your type, right?” he smirks, and you throw your head to the side just for him to yank it back. “Answer, or you're not gonna cum on this dick ever again.”  “No. Still no,” you pant, and he kisses you again, pulling your hand down and letting you touch yourself.  His lips are moving towards your ear, nibbling at your earlobe. “Make daddy proud and soak his big cock, sugar,” he growls and your back arches up. Legs trembling as the tight band in your core snaps. The orgasm rips through you without any mercy, and you scream his name, actually trying to make him proud and feel worthy of the pleasure his cock’s giving you.  “Good girl,” he praises, brushing over your cheek. You're completely dazed, only paying half as much attention to him as you wanted to while watching his face contort and hips stutter with sloppy thrusts before he's releasing his hot seed into you. 

“In love with me yet?” you joke while lying next to him, and he runs his hands over his short hair.  “Nope,” he shakes his head and purses his lips.  “Good. And if you praise me ever again, I'm gonna kick your ass. Understood?” you sneer while getting up and walking to the bathroom.  “You liked it,” he calls after you with a light laugh swinging in his voice. You know he’s right, but you don't wanna admit it. You don't want to admit to the vulnerability of it all, after having spent years to build yourself up to the person you are now. No longer wasting any more time on what people think of you or giving them any time of day to hurt you. This includes not letting them close to prevent it from ever getting to such a point ever again.  “Just don't fucking say it again,” you tell him as you hear him enter the shower behind you.  “Understood.” 

You shower in silence, each of you on one end of the long shower but the glooming feeling that something has changed won't leave you. Not as you leave the shower to dry off, or as you lay down and try to relax for just a bit before you have to get ready. Not while doing your hair and makeup. Not while putting on your dress or when you call your driver.  And he's not saying a single thing. Rafe stays quiet throughout all of it, which makes you a little pissed at him, but you can't let it show. 

You arrive ahead of time, your parents not yet there when the hostess shows you to your table, and you order an extra dry martini.  The stark difference in your behavior towards each other outside and inside the bedroom is starting to annoy you. You miss how easy-going he had been that first day you met him. How charming and funny and most of all flirtatious he had acted.  “Tomorrow morning, you're gonna fly home and then I only wanna see you when there's something with the business,” you tell him, trying to get the upper hand in a situation that you had never intended to be in.  “Understood,” he mutters as you both stand up to greet your parents, who are walking over. 

The dinner is dry, and you can't wait to finally get home and just sleep. Your mom keeps making indecent jokes and comments towards Rafe, but he just laughs or smirks. And when he's not eating, he has one hand on his whiskey and the other on your thigh, slowly creeping up and making it harder for you to concentrate on what your father is telling you about.  “It's a difficult task, but we'll manage,” you say to your dad before jumping up. “Excuse me for a moment.”  You make a beeline to the restroom, trying to cool off and maybe get your act together. But Rafe won't let you. As soon as you step out of the restroom he yanks you with him to a dark corner of the hallway. 

“What are you doing?” you hiss at him, and he pushes you against the wall, caging you in.  “Why are you letting him walk all over you?” Rafe questions, his hand is trailing under the skirt of your dress; fingertips caressing the soft flesh of your thighs.  “He's my boss,” you reply.  “What else?” he taunts, his fingers are pressed against your clit now, making you gulp and bite your lip to not let out a whimper.  “My dad,” you whisper, searching his eyes for approval, but instead he slaps your wet pussy and you squirm.  “You're pathetic, you know that?” he laughs quietly, and you nod, just to please him.  “Rafe, please, just-” you claw at his wrist, but he grabs your cunt even harsher.  “You don't get to pick and choose whenever you like, sugar. You don't want me to be nice, so I'm not. But then all of a sudden, you don't want me to be mean either. Now which is it? One final answer,” he demands, and you let go of him, your hand falling to your side as you admit defeat.  “Good choice,” he growls, pulls your slip to the side and pushes two fingers into your seeping cunt while his free hand is on your mouth, muffling your quiet moans. 

His long fingers are curled up inside you, fucking you with no mercy or thought that someone might walk by and see. But you don't care because he's making you feel whole, whispering a plethora of disgustingly dirty shit into your ear, and always changing his technique when he feels you get closer to your release.  “Tell me who you belong to, sugar,” he rasps and you whimper silently. “I'm yours, daddy. All yours.”  “Good,” he seems pleased with himself, and you feel a sigh of relief coming as you're growing closer and closer to your orgasm. But right before you can let go, he pulls away. 

“Rafe, no- What are you doing?” You claw at his chest as he steps back and licks his fingers clean of your arousal.  “You don't get to use me and throw me away like a piece of trash. Remember who's got the upper hand here, y/n.” Then he lightly slaps your cheek two times before walking back to the table, leaving you to deal with the consequences of your actions. 

please don't copy and/or post my work onto other platforms! ~e©ho

taglist: @ijustwantttoread @spideysimpossiblegirl @redhead1180 @drwstarkeyy @notdxbya @sublimepenguinpeach-blog

part 3

[johnwickb1tsch]

bittersweet ~ a yandere!John Wick x fem!reader sunshine/grump coffee shop AU... Part 4 all chapters

Winter is making you stir crazy, so on your day off you decide to go for a hike on one of the copious mountain trails around your town. There’s still snow on the ground, and in the middle of the day you seem to have the woods nearly to yourself.

You like being by yourself.

The mountain is quiet, but for the wind in the trees and some determinedly chipper little birds chirping.

You nearly have a heart attack when you round a bend, and there is a large figure in all black. For a split-second you mistake him for a bear, before you realize it’s Mr. Wick.

“Jesus, you scared me,” you huff.

“Sorry,” he says, seeming genuinely apologetic.

“Where’s Dog?”

“I left him at home. Too cold.”

You like it, that he considered Dog’s comfort in the matter.

With a small frown he peers around you. “Are you alone?”

“Yes. I hike alone all the time.”

You hope he will spare you the lecture, even if it secretly pleases you that he is a little worried for you.

He sighs a little. “I wish you wouldn’t. You never know who you might run into out here.”

You cant your head, finding this statement slightly ironic, considering.

“I can handle myself. You’re looking at a junior Tae Kwon Do black belt, I’ll have you know.” The latter you deliver with a sassy grin, because even though it has come in useful on a few occasions, in the real world you know it doesn’t mean shit. You were just a child, and it was a long time ago.

This actually succeeds in winning you what is nearly a full-on smile, for him. “Well then. Remind me not to piss you off.”

The thought is absurd to you. You’re no willowy waif by far, but you can tell right now that this totally fit—and fine as fuck, if you’re being honest—man could snap you like a twig, if he wanted to. You snort in answer.

“I’m sure it won’t come up.”

He levels you with a long look then, that you don’t entirely understand.  

“So…you like hiking in the cold?” you ask, suddenly feeling a little awkward.

“I guess I’m used to it,” he answers. “I was born in Belarus.”

“Oh.” There is no hint of accent in his words. You reason he must have come to America at a very young age.

“And you?”

“I was not born in Belarus,” you confirm. It’s his turn to huff, and your heart skitters in your chest when he takes a step closer. He veritably looms over you, so tall and broad shouldered. You have a moment of clarity in which it really sinks in that you are totally alone out on the quiet mountain with this man, and he really could do anything he wants with you.

The thought titillates more than it disturbs, and maybe you have a screw loose.

“You’re a cheeky girl, aren’t you?”

There is a look in his eye, and for a moment you think he’s going to bend down to you. Crazier yet, you would have let him. But his hands remain in the pockets of his expensive down coat. The weight of his gaze alone is enough to make you feel as though he’s touched you, and you narrowly suppress a shudder.

It’s not because of the crisp mountain wind.  

“So I’ve heard. I don’t like the cold,” you answer his real question. “But I do like the snow.”

He frowns a little. “How does that work out?”

“It’s an aesthetic thing.”

“Ah. Your artist’s eye.”

“I guess.”

“You’re very good.”

It is, in fact, freezing cold out there in the woods, but suddenly you feel warm, standing there with him, basking in his praise.

“You’re kind.”

He tilts his head, his hair falling in his eyes. “Not really,” he says, and it almost sounds like a warning. “But maybe, just for you. Can I walk with you?”

You were enjoying your solo excursion, but you find yourself nodding in agreement, unable to turn down the opportunity to spend time with your mysterious but favorite customer from the coffee shop.  

“Ok. Are you making the loop?”

“Partly. My house isn’t far from the north fork of the trail.”

“Ah.” He must have just moved into one of the insanely expensive mansions tucked back in the woods, you reason.

It’s too cold to stand around and talk, so you hit the trail together. His legs are long, boy are they, but he matches his pace to stay with you. You don’t say much, but you enjoy each other’s company in the outdoors. You follow the line of a steep bluff on one side, old growth trees towering all around. It’s not a sunny day, but still bright from the freshly fallen snow. Later the forecast calls for more.

When you slide a little on an icy rock he makes a grab for you, and suddenly you do find yourself tucked in against the hard line of his side. It wasn’t entirely necessary—you’re wearing knobby boots, and you would have landed on your feet.

But it is endearing that he was worried for you.

The strength in his grip squeezing you steals your breath away. You only manage to get out a wheezy, “Thanks.”

He acknowledges your gratitude with a grumble, releasing you almost as quickly as he grabbed you. You get the sense that he is annoyed, somehow. You, however, know the memory of his body against yours is going to haunt your dreams that night.

Suddenly too warm, you unzip your jacket a little.

When you reach the trail marker for the north fork that will take him closer to home you look at him, expecting to say goodbye, certain he will be glad to be rid of you. But he keeps walking. “I'll get you to your car,” he says. 

“You don't have to do that.” 

“I want to,” he insists. “If you don't mind?” He’s softened again to you, for whatever reason, and you swear his moods could give you whiplash. Having this man to yourself for another mile isn’t the worst way you've spent an afternoon. 

“Ok, if you insist.” 

When you get to the parking lot, there is a shifty pair of guys hanging out in a beat-up Dodge van that might as well have “FREE CANDY” spray painted on the side panel. You look to John curiously, who is staring down the driver with a hard look in his eyes. Even though that look isn’t directed at you, it gives you a little chill.

The man behind the wheel confers with his bearded companion, and they decide to start up and chug away. 

You feel like you narrowly missed a passing danger, like a shark swum past your hiding spot in the reef.

“How... did you know?” 

“Seen them around the past week or so. Maybe promise me no more solo hikes until they move on?” 

“Yeah. Ok.” Maybe they were just two guys down on their luck hanging out in a van…but they definitely gave you the creeps.

“Can I give you a lift home?” He would have miles to go, uphill, in the bitter cold otherwise. 

“Thanks.” 

You pause at your late model Rav4, kind of embarrassed. He drives a very nice black Range Rover, and though your car is a soldier, bless all four of its cylinders, it kind of looks like a piece of shit. “Um...sorry,” you say, moving some books out of the passenger seat.

However, he seems non plussed. 

“No worries. Thanks for the ride.”

You start the engine, letting it warm up a little. He rubs his hands together, blowing on his fingers. “So…do you pick up strangers from the woods often?”

You laugh quietly. “You’re not that strange.”

 He tilts his head in that way that makes you feel unnervingly seen.

“You don't really know me, y/n.”

Why do you feel like he's trying to warn you?

“So... you’re saying I should make you walk back up the mountain in the freezing cold?” 

His low laughter tugs at your insides, making unbidden warmth spread through you.

“No, now that I'm here that really doesn't sound appealing.” 

You dare to wonder if he means here, with you.

“Ok then.” You put the Rav4 in drive. “Where are we headed?”

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Heroes and Their Reputations

Pairing: As of right now there isn't one- trying to decide if this is going to be more than this silly one shot lol

Word Count: 2.8k

Warnings: none really?

Genre: kinda fluff mostly... comedy I guess is accurate

Summary: The Avengers may be Earth's mightiest heroes but there's plenty of room for improvement especially in the public opinion category, so what happens when the team is given a PR manager?

***

"Listen, I can tell you right now, this transition will not be smooth." Fury warns you as you walk down the hall.

"Oh come on Fury how bad can they be?" You scoff.

"Most of them are- fine, I'm sure the reception will be overall positive but at least one of them will try to run you off and you need to prepared."

"I've got pretty thick skin so I think I'll manage. Plus I've got a few tricks up my sleeve to deal with that sort of thing believe it or not." You say.

"Alright. I'll call you in in a moment." Fury says. He enters the meeting room while you wait in the hall. It takes a while for his head to pop out to call you.

"You ready?" He asks.

"Sure." You say kicking off the wall and entering the room.

"Avengers. Meet your new manager." Fury announces to the room.

"Hey everyone, my name is y/n. Like Fury said I'll be your manager moving forward." You say.

"Sorry, what does having a manager entail exactly?" Bruce asks, adjusting his glasses.

"All of your missions, any official public appearances, interactions with civilians online or in person, that'll all go through me now. I'll also deal with government officials on your behalf and any legal situations you may end up in."

"So you're a lawyer?" Clint asks.

"No, we have lawyers. She's just here to oversee you all so that you can be held to a standard." Fury says.

"We don't need a manager." Tony scoffs.

"Oh yes, you do." Fury says.

"It can't hurt." Thor shrugs.

"Don't be ridiculous Thor. Look, sweetheart, we've managed just fine on our own so far so I see what they're trying to do here but it's pointless and I will not be answering to some random figurehead they've brought in to play babysitter." Tony says.

"Okay, let me make one thing clear, Anthony, sweetheart, we're playing my game now, so you play by my rules or you don't play at all." You say.

"What's that supposed to mean?" He narrows his eyes.

"How do I explain this? If I'm a coach, I'm not going to put players in the game that I know are just going to continually rack up penalties, that's a poor game plan. The public doesn't trust you, it's my job to change that. So if you make my job harder you will no longer go on missions or even leave the tower. It's pretty simple. Fall in line or Iron Man will effectively be out of commission until you can be trusted to behave."

"Nice try but you can't do that." He scoffs. You cock an eyebrow at him and snap. His body tenses to a halt for a moment before you unfreeze him.

"My game. Understood?" You ask.

"W-w-what t-th-the f-f-f-f-fuck w-w-was th-th-that?" Tony wraps his arms around himself, shivering in his seat.

"What did you just do to him?" Steve's eyes widen.

"You have powers?!" Wanda asks excitedly.

"Nothing deadly." You wink at Steve. "Yes." You smile at Wanda. Bruce's hand hesitantly raises as he speaks,

"When you say nothing deadly-"

"Mr. Stark's body temperature was briefly at 28.2 degrees Fahrenheit. Low enough to freeze his blood but not for long enough to kill him." Vision informs the group.

"You frozehis blood?!" Sam gasps.

"What the fuck kind of power is that?" Clint asks.

"Are you some sort of demigod?" Thor asks.

"Technically I control water. Vision darling can you get him a blanket or something? The shivering is... excessive." You say.

"Of course." Vision says with a nod.

"F-F-F-F-Fury d-did y-you know a-a-ab-b-bout th-th-this?"

"It's got nothing to do with my job so it's not like it's on my resume, but if anybody would do the extra research on me it'd be Fury." You say. Vision returns then and drapes a blanket over Tony who pulls it tight around himself.

"Just want to make it clear that I did not know you could do that. Why the fuck you ain't mention that before now?" Fury looks at you.

"I did say I had some tricks up my sleeve." You shrug.

"We'll discuss that later." He tells you.

"Am I the only one not understanding how water manipulation lets you freeze blood?" Sam asks.

"Blood is made up of mostly water. I can control the water within blood. Goes for other things too, clouds, mud- anything really."

"So you froze his blood?" Bruce asks with wide eyes.

"Just to prove my point. I wasn't gonna kill him." You reiterate.

"I like our manager." Natasha smirks.

"Thank you." You say. Fury pulls out his phone and sighs.

"Imma leave y'all to get acquainted. Don't turn anyone into an iceblock in the meantime." He warns.

"She's already done that." Clint says.

"Fine, don't turn anybody else into an iceblock. If you insist I get technical." Fury rolls his eyes.

"You aren't seriously going to leave us with her Fury." Tony says breathily, his body finally warming up enough to talk normally.

"Don't push her buttons and you should be fine Tony you're an adult."

"Only in theory." Steve mutters and you let out a small laugh at his dig.

"I've told her not to freeze anybody, don't piss her off and you'll be safe." Fury reiterates before leaving the room.

"So-" you take a seat at the table with everyone and rest your chin in one of your hands propped up at the elbow. "Questions?"

"So are you like our boss?" Natasha asks.

"When you say monitor our interactions online what does that mean?" Steve asks.

"You mentioned public appearances. Will we be doing press conferences? Because I don't really like the idea of having to sit and answer a bunch of questions on a panel." Bruce asks.

"Since when do we have a team of lawyers?" Clint scoffs.

"Also what do you mean when you say missions go through you?" Sam asks.

"So when I said questions I didn't mean everybody throw them all at once. Natasha, technically speaking kind of since you guys do have to answer to me. Steve, you all are an interesting bunch, I assume none of you do but if any of you had a social media presence at all I would be monitoring that to make sure the things you're engaging with don't make you look any worse. Bruce, you probably won't be doing press conferences exactly because I can't say I trust you all to answer questions live like that but we do need to do damage control on your image as a team so you'll be making strategic appearances over the next few months at events and such so that the public sees you in a better light. Clint, the first thing I told them when I was hired was that a group of superheroes needs a legal team especially if the government is poking their noses around here so I put one together. Sam, Fury will send your missions to me, and I'll decide who goes on which ones based on your skill set as individuals and cooperatively."

"How did you remember all of those questions?" Steve binks.

"Do you know our skill sets?" Clint asks.

"I've seen some of your- combat, clips go pretty viral of the big ones, so I have an idea but I'll be scheduling targeted trainings with each of you to observe more directly over the next two weeks." You say.

"So, what happens in the meantime? Until you know our strengths if there are missions then what?" Natasha asks.

"Steve seems the closest to a leader here. I'll take his suggestions regarding assignments and go from there." You say.

"Cap is not our leader." Tony scoffs.

"Well, it's certainly not you." You roll your eyes. "Does anyone else take issue with me consulting Steve for your mission assignments?" You ask, a hand up to stop Tony from whining more.

"Nope." Bruce says.

"No." Natasha says.

"I'd rather Steve than Tony." Clint says.

"I trust Steve more than Tony." Wanda says.

"I'm here because of Steve- so, only makes sense." Sam shrugs.

"Vision? Thoughts?" You ask.

"My vote sways nothing as everyone else has unanimously chosen Captain Steve Rogers."

"No Vision this isn't about statistics, I asked because you're part of the team and your opinion is as valuable as everyone else's." You tell him.

"In that case, I think the most reasonable choice for who you should consult would be Captain Rogers."

"All of you have betrayed me today." Tony says.

"Cut the drama Stark you are far too impulsive to be calling any shots here." You roll your eyes.

"Oh what do you know?" He scoffs.

"I know you're reckless and make decisions without considering those around you, I know you've created more problems than you've solved, I know that you need serious lessons in collaboration because you are by far the worst team player I've ever come across, and this is just from reading your file and studying public records, you struggle with addictive behaviors, you have narcissistic tendencies, abandonment issues, self-destructive habits and an overall lack of basic social awareness, you consider yourself generally above reproach, and things like empathy are often lost on you and it makes you nothing short of insufferable to be around. And that is putting it very lightly. Shall I continue?"

"Yes please!" Natasha laughs.

"I get the point." Tony grits out.

"Good! Glad we're on the same page! Now you can stop questioning me because as I'm sure you've realized by now in a game of who can be the bigger asshole, Tony, for once in your life, you will lose. I've dealt with egos 10 times the size of yours and if they couldn't break me neither will you. So fall in line, or say buh bye to the iron suit."

"Oh shit. Fury's a genius." Natasha chuckles.

"What, Nat?" Steve frowns.

"She's here to fix our reputation. I dunno about the rest of y'all but based on today I trust her to do the job gotta be honest." She shrugs.

"Good. Makes my job much easier if you trust me." You say. "Any more questions Avengers?" You ask the group.

"Will you be living here?" Wanda asks.

"No. I don't see a reason to, so I don't plan on it." You shrug.

"What if we need you when you're not here?" She asks.

"Honestly a lot of my job can be done remotely. Since PR has nothing to do with your day to day activities emergencies are unlikely. I'll only be here a few times a week and that's mostly because I don't trust some of you to pick up if I call."

"Uh- when does this observational training start?" Bruce asks.

"We'll start Monday. I'll send out a full schedule later but I'll be starting with you, Tony. 9 am."

"Oh come on! Why me?!" Tony groans.

"Because I know you'll give me the most trouble and everyone else will feel like a cakewalk after." You smile. "If there are no further questions, watch your phones, I'll be reaching out to each of you over the weekend, see you Monday. Try not to do any more damage before then." You say standing and leaving the room. Yeah, you're going to have one hell of a time with this team.

Monday morning you reach the tower early. You told Tony to meet you in the training room at 9 o'clock, so at 8:45 you find a meeting room and have your coffee.

"Friday?" You call out.

"Good morning y/n."

"Good morning. I want a view of the cameras in the training room, and please make sure nobody knows that I've arrived at the tower yet." You say.

"Aren't you meant to be meeting Mr. Stark shortly?"

"Mr. Stark will be experiencing a series of trials today. The first of which will be a test of patience. Which means he cannot know I'm already here. Okay?"

"Understood."

"Thank you." You settle in at the round table sipping your coffee and kicking your feet up as you prepare to hang out here for a while. You watch Tony enter the training room at 9 on the dot. For the first 10 minutes, he seems to just be idly waiting. He checks his watch a few times, paces the room, lets out the occasional impatient huff. After the twenty minute mark, he calls you, which you promptly ignore. He starts to do minor training stuff, jumping jax, hitting a punching bag, messing around with weights. He calls again at forty minutes. You still don't answer. You watch him for a full hour before you leave the meeting room and finally make your way to where he's surprisingly still waiting.

"Good morning Anthony." You say casually when you walk in.

"Good mor- where have you been? You told me we were meeting at 9 am it's not 10:07. I've been waiting for over an hour."

"Well technically I told you to be here at 9 am. Never said anything about me being here at 9 too. But I have been in the tower. I was in a meeting room. Watching you. Planning the rest of the morning."

"So- you've been here since 9 am and you just- what? Decided I could wait?"

"I've been here since 8:45 actually. I wanted to see if first of all you'd be punctual and secondly could you wait indefinitely without direction simply because I told you to be here at 9." You say.

"You're telling me I just wasted an hour of my time in here for your amusement?" He crosses his arms.

"You lack patience and discipline, so I'm testing you."

"By wasting my time?"

"By challenging your equanimity."

"Challenging my equanimity? Really? That's you're justification for wasting an hour of my day?"

"Friday please prepare Ironman's training simulation." You say rolling your eyes at Tony's complaints.

"Simulation loading, please wait." Friday responds.

"We're not done with this conversation." Tony says.

"Oh yes we are. I think you're still struggling to understand how this works, I don't answer to you Tony. Now if you at any point want to go on missions, I suggest you suit up and run the training simulation I've prepared for you." You say.

"You prepared?"

"Simulation complete. Ready to begin." Friday announces.

"It's what I've been up to since I got here an hour ago. Everyone's getting personalized simulations to assess their skills. Yours begins- now." You say stepping back.

"Beginning simulation round one." Friday says and that's the only warning Tony gets before it starts. The training begins with a set of drills, a combination of shooting still targets and dodging projectiles. It takes him most of the hour to finish the first round of tests, and the final sequence ends with him on the the floor.

"I fight in a suit. Why the hell am I running target practice without it?!" He huffs.

"You wanna be a hero you're gonna need more than your rich kid toys to qualify. If it powers down or is rendered useless somehow in the middle of a mission you can't simply become a liability to the team and if you are- I need to know that too."

"Friday." He grits out.

"Yes Mr. Stark?" The computerized voice fills the room.

"Tell Pepper I'll be later than expected coming in today."

"Friday, tell Pepper not to expect him until after lunch." You say checking your watch.

"Yes Miss y/n."

"After lunch?!" His eyes widen.

"Oh relax, I won't be keeping you here that long, it's only 11, but by the time we're done you'll probably want to get something to eat or at the very least change your clothes before going to work." You shrug. "Friday please load the second round of the Stark Training Simulation."

"Simulation loading. Please wait."

"S-second round?" He groans.

"I had four planned, but that first one took you forever so we'll have to consolidate. Put on your suit before she's finished loading, you won't have time to once it starts." You tell him.

"How were you even able to get Friday to do this?" He asks as he forces himself to his feet.

"Fury gave me access to everything on the grounds." You shrug.

"Loading complete. Ready to begin." Friday announces.

"Great. Please begin round two at an increase of five percent Friday."

"Beginning simulation round two at a five percent increase."

"Woah hang on a five percent increase what the hell does that me-" Tony is cut off by a projectile launching across the room. Round two is more combat based using mechanical dummies Friday was able to activate for you. With the speed increase Tony struggles to keep up with the attacks but at least it won't take him over an hour to do them. It takes 47 minutes for him to complete round two.

"Right, I think I've got enough information. I'm going to let you go. I'll save rounds 3 and 4 for another day. Friday please send me the footage from today's simulation runs." You say.

"Understood."

"You plan on being a tyrant your entire time here?" Tony asks.

"What's the matter Stark? Can't handle the heat?" You quirk an eyebrow at him.

"That wasn't just heat that was being thrown into a volcano."

"You know what they say, pressure makes diamonds. I'll be in touch." You say walking out of the training room, already preparing the simulations for your next session, you're thinking Steve.

"Take your time!" Tony shouts after you and you roll your eyes. Maybe Fury was onto something when he warned you it would not be easy with these guys.

***

A/N: should I continue this story? Do we add a love interest? If so who?

[kiyomitakada]

Near should not be staring.

He had a plan earlier. He still has it, somewhere. All the puzzle pieces are in his hands but his fingers aren't working.

Mello still hasn't noticed him. Near's feet are rooted to the floor, even as his legs start to ache — he's not the best at standing still for any amount of time — and the stale air presses in. He stares. He is ten years old and very, very good at staring.

Mello is sitting in the pew closest to the cross mounted on the wall. There is sunlight warping through the stained glass windows; it brings out the darker shades of his flat-blonde hair. His head is bent, but not in prayer. Near knows this because he can hear the sounds of a pencil scratching quietly but furiously on paper. Most likely math homework. Mello hates math.

They have not been alone before. Not like this, anyway. Mello is always surrounded by friends, laughter brimming at the corners of his lips until he sees Near and it melts away into a glare. This Mello, silent and pensive, is not unfamiliar, but seeing him is usually a privilege granted to Near only for a few seconds at a time.

He looks — small, hunched over in the pew. Mello is twelve. The Wammy students are only separated into grades based on test scores, not age, and Near is obviously in the same bracket as Mello, but when you are ten years old sometimes even small age gaps feel insurmountable. Right now, though, he looks… human. Just another drop in the bucket that is Wammy's House.

He's beautiful. Near has always known this, objectively. But sometimes it hits him hard enough to bruise.

Suddenly the scribbling stops.

Near freezes. He isn't fast enough to step back.

"What the hell are you doing here," Mello hisses.

Well, now he's been found out, he might as well sit down. Near sinks to the floor. His legs scream in relief. "I am making a map of the orphanage."

"What, now? We've been here for years."

Near lifts his eyes to the ceiling. It's very pretty, sparsely painted with angels and cherubs. It's a shame it's never used. Wammy's House is not a religious institution, but perhaps Mr. Wammy had been powered by nostalgia for his own childhood upbringing.

Near doesn't believe in a god. He never has.

"I am updating my map."

"Well, this place hasn't changed," Mello says. "So."

Near waits for the go away, but it doesn't come.

"Do you stay here often?"

"Yes, Near," Mello says. It's rather impressive how he can make any word sound like an insult. "Because it's quiet, and I need to focus. But you're here now so I guess there's no point anymore." He stands abruptly and starts shoving his things into his backpack.

Near is briefly seized with an inexplicable need to make Mello stay. In later years he will learn this is fruitless, but he is ten and naive and already missing the version of Mello that is, apparently, not allowed to exist around Near.

"You don't have to do that," Near says. "I can be quiet."

Mello stops. Frowns. "What are you even gonna do here? You can check this place off on your map, can't you? Done. Finished."

"I want to inspect the walls," Near lies.

Mello drags a hand over his face. "What is wrong with you?"

This is the first time Mello has insulted something that Near doesn't actually do, which Near is a little gleeful about. "Maintenance is important."

"I can't believe you even found this place," Mello says. "Jesus. Where am I supposed to do my homework now?"

"I can be quiet," Near repeats.

"It's not about that! God." Mello rolls his eyes. Near does not point out the hypocrisy of taking the Christian deity's name in vain in a chapel, twice, though he wants to. "Fine. Do your wall-crawling, Spider-Man. I'm leaving."

"Will you come back?"

"No," Mello spits. "Because you know where this is now."

"I won't be in this room until next year," Near says. "The map is annual."

"So?"

Mello is usually sharper than this. "So no one will bother you for another twelve months."

Mello stares at him for a second. The light framing his face makes the blue of his eyes darker.

Near isn't sorry for being here. Near isn't sorry for anything, generally. But he is oddly, absurdly bothered by the idea that the Mello in this chapel will not exist again because Near strangled him.

"Why the hell do you care?" Mello asks, finally.

"I am pointing out a fact." Near presses a thumb into the ache developing in his knee.

What he wants to say is, would it be so terrible to exist in the same space as me? What he wants to say is, why can't we work together for once? What he wants to say is, do you like this place? Do you think this school is beautiful? Do you think it's killing us?

"Sure. Facts. You love those." Mello's face is blank as ever.

"Yes," Near says. "Are you going to—"

"I'm still leaving," Mello announces. "Have fun with your walls, or whatever."

"Goodbye," Near says, and doesn't look up when Mello slams the door shut.

[ @deathnotetober day 26: wammy's ]

[disasterofastory]

Did one of Buckys men ever laid a hand on her? 🥺

Imagine her cheek is a little bruised and Bucky wouldn’t let her alone at this time. Like holding his bunny near him 🥺

The maid of Mr. Barnes + Ask - Bucky thinks someone hurt you // Masterlist Bucky Barnes x Reader Mafia AU Warnings: bruise on Reader, nothing serious

Oh, never! After this incident, Bucky gets even more careful about who can come inside his home. He makes sure every newcomer knows about his Bunny. If somebody hurts her (physically or verbally, doesn't matter), they won't leave the house alive. Everybody knows how cruel Bucky can be if he has to be, and nobody wants to see that side of him if anything were to happen to his girl.

And his men like Bunny. In some way, she takes care of them. She makes coffee, bakes, and cooks if she has time and tends to their smaller wounds. Even if Bucky is not there, a few of his men always watch over Bunny and make sure she is fine and nobody can hurt her.

But, of course, as I said before, accidents happen.

"Bucky will kill us," Sam says as he watches you in the mirror. His arms are crossed over his chest, and the blue suit he wears stretches around his muscles. A slight grimace contorts his features. "He won't," you argue. "He won't even notice it." The man behind you scoffs. "Then you don't know Bucky, or we are not talking about the same man." "It will be fine," you tell him stubbornly. "What will he do about it? It was an accident." "I think he will take off every shelf in the house," Sam guesses. Silence follows his words as you put some more makeup on your skin, blending it around your eye to hide the purple bruise that forms there. "It will be fine."

You were wrong.

Bucky's large hands are warm around your face as he cups your cheeks. His thumb caresses the bruise he can see even through the makeup. "What happened?" He asks, frowning. You can see the gears turning in his head, trying to find out everything before you can tell him. "And why nobody called me?" "Bucky, it's fine." Your fingers curl around his wrists. Your thumb brushes over the expensive watch that matches his suit. "Fine?" He asks back. Impatience and anger shimmer in his voice as he tries to hold himself back. How could it be fine? He leaves for a few days, and when he comes home, you have a bruise! His head is already full of scenarios about what he will do when he finds out who did this to you. "Who did this, Y/N?" He asks. Blood boils in his veins, and he doesn't understand why are you smiling. "I want names!" "Bucky-" "Whoever did this to you, they will pay," he says. "Nobody can hurt you. And where were the others? I told them to watch over you! Why do I pay them if they don't do their job?!" "It was me," you snap. "It was me, Bucky!" He freezes. His hands are still on your face. "What?" "It was an accident," you explain. "I tried to reach something on the shelf, and it fell and hit me. It was an accident!" You can see his shoulders fall when your words register in his mind. An accident. It was an accident. "Oh, Bunny," he exhales, pecking your lips. "But how?" You shrug. "It doesn't matter. It doesn't even hurt anymore." His arms sneak around your body to pull you closer. Your front is pressed against his chest. His lips ghost over the bruise before going down on the line of your jaw. "No shelves for you anymore," he says, and you can't help but laugh. Then you stop. "Wait. You can't be serious." "Oh, I am," he hums. "I need the shelves, Bucky." "That's why I have men, Bunny." "You have men to take things down for me from the shelves?" You ask back. "Sure," he kisses down your neck. His lips are warm and gentle. "Whatever my Bunny wants." "I don't want it," you correct him. A lazy smile pulls on his lips. "Then let me convince you."

[gothamite-rambler]

Damian helps Mr. Freeze (Batfamily Chronicles Microfiction Series)

Mr. Freeze (talking to his self): Would me eating spicy food kill me? I never enjoyed them, but once to physically can't eat them it feels different. Thoughts for later.

Robin!Damian (walking over): Hi, Victor!

Mr. Freeze (turning around): Um, hi, you're the new Robin?

Robin!Damian: Yes, how could you tell?

Mr. Freeze: You are shorter and... brown. No offense I promise, it's just the other one is-

Robin!Damian: A skinny white boy who looks like he needs a feeding tube?

Mr. Freeze: Ja, that is insanely accurate. I like you so far, how did you get mixed up with the Bat?

Robin!Damian (lying with ease): My father and him go way back. Old college friends.

Mr. Freeze (falling for that lie): Not feelin' reassured that's why he has another child as a sidekick, but he's not the Joker. Thank goodness for that.

Victor sighed, tapping the glass on the dome that kept his face protected.

Mr. Freeze (cont'd): Let me guess, you're here to defeat me? Kid, run off I'm not in the mood to freeze a child.

Robin!Damian (chuckling): I actually have a proposal for you, Victor. I read your file a few times in the past and your story is truly tragic. I am sorry your wife has that illness and you ended up imprisoned in this suit.

Mr. Freeze (somber): Ah, it's quite all right. I continue to do research for a cure while committing crime. Honestly the crime part of my life is a side gig. I don't want to make you sad about it.

Robin!Damian (reassuring tone): No, no, no you're fine sir. I think that's admirable and if it helps your suit is fantastic and powerful.

Mr. Freeze (small smile on his rarely happy face): I need it to live, but thank you. I sup it up frequently. You are making a good impression so far, would you like to help me then?

Robin!Damian: Yes.

Mr. Freeze (pleased): I've always wanted a young apprentice.

Robin!Damian (raising his hand and shaking his head): Working with Batman is something I love to be honest. I meant I can help with healing your wife. I know this guy, Ra's-

Mr. Freeze (aiming his freeze gun at an unfazed Damian): Oh no, not that crazy dictator and his pit of green goop. I heard the effects it has on that formally dead man. How is he, by the way?

Robin!Damian: Batman pays to stop killing people and he's an awesome hero.

Mr. Freeze (surprised, but gets it): Really? You know what, good for him, as for you and Ra's, I reject that offer I am a man of science... mostly. I don't trust that hocus pocus.

Robin!Damian: Let me finish, sir. I told him not to use the pit and demanded he help get a cure for her disease. Nora is in stage four, Batman said he's okay with Ra's helping you and gra- Ra's gathered some smart men who can research a cure for you.

Mr. Freeze lowered his freeze gun hesitant.

Mr. Freeze: Wirklich? (For real?)

Robin!Damian (nodding): For real. To be fully transparent with you, there's no guarantee a cure will be found quickly, but they have one for the 3rd stage. There was a lot of negotiating with Ra's and I... definitely have to pay that man back for this, but he is willing to aid you with this, no strings attached.

Mr. Freeze (shocked): No... strings... attached?

Damian had to agree to traveling to an island to fight ninjas for his grandfather to agree, a secret he had to keep from his parents, but if it meant helping someone he felt warranted aid, it would have to be done.

Robin!Damian (tight smile): That was the toughest part to get him to agree, don't ever say heroes such as myself don't put their life on the line for you guys.

Damian held out a laminated red on black business card for Victor to take.

Robin!Damian: Here's his business card, give him a call and set up a meeting. I want to help you with this, Victor. I really do, so take the offer... please?

Victor took the card and a half smile appeared on his face.

Victor: Hm, You are a... good kid.

Robin: Eh, less good kid and more being a good hero.

Victor nodded, patting the young boy on the head. The man's hand was cold, but Damian felt warm inside having helped a tragic villain.

Victor: I swear if this works, Nora and I are going to be ze the best villain couple. I have a suit for her and a cool freeze gun and- Oh Scheiße, I shouldn't have said that out loud.

Damian having disconnected his communication device before he entered the lair, waved away those concerns.

Robin!Damian: I factored that in and I support your team up when Nora awakens. Batman won't be around for long, but I will and I think you'd both make great foes.

Victor (happy grin): Kid, now I like you. Honestly, count yourself crossed off my list. I won't ever freeze you.

Robin!Damian: I'm going to brag about that to the others. Bad news for right now, I have to take you in, but the cops won't hurt you or anything.

Victor (resigned to his arrest): Ja, factored that, but I will honor my promise and not freeze you. I'll call this dastardly man after they lock me up. I did miss my old cell, gives me time alone with my thoughts.

Damian nodded in agreement while he and Victor walked out of the warehouse.

Robin!Damian: Oh and I heard that you've been having temperature issues in your cell, I can talk to someone about that as well.

Victor: Danke, it's as if they don't understand I require cold to live! Young hero, your father would proud how well you handled a villain of my caliber.

Robin!Damian (smiling): Making sure to tell my entire family that too.

[mydisenchantedeulogy]

Beyond Doubt || Syzoth/Reptile

Warning(s): Johnny Cage being Johnny Cage, female reader, teasing, embarrassment, oral (f), use of reptilian tongue.

No Minors Allowed!!

Fucking Cage. 

This is his fault. If he had not opened his big fucking mouth at dinner then you would not be in this embarrassing situation, having to hide out in a spare room at the Wu Shi Academy to avoid the awkward stares you know your fellow protectors will give you.  

It is easier just to avoid them until Liu Kang has a task for you to complete. 

Resting on your makeshift bed of thin blankets, you decide to wait until dark to venture out. Most of the protectors will be busy with their own things, you are sure, so the chances of running into them will be slim. No. You should not have to feel uneasy about meeting your allies eye to eye, especially Syzoth, but because of Johnny fucking Cage, it can not be helped. 

“Serious question though,” Johnny uttered. He leaned in from his seat at the table and grinned. “Who of Earth’s protectors do you think is incompetent at eating pussy?”

You nearly choked on your drink. What prompted him to ask such a question? You opted not to answer, to ignore him, but he would not let up. 

“My bet is pretty boy down there,” he had mentioned, gesturing toward Baraka at the far end of the table. “Or the Lizard.” 

“The Lizard?” You asked in a whisper.

Johnny pointed to Syzoth across from you. 

“You know, Doctor Conners.”

Sadly, you knew the reference. Turning up your eyes, you realize that Johnny was not using an inside voice. Several of the protectors and allies seated at the table, including Syzoth and Baraka turned their attention to you. An embarrassed heat spread across your face. You glared at Johnny. 

“Don't you know how to whisper?” You asked with a snap. 

“Maybe if it were between us,” he answered.

So, he wanted them to hear. Or to contribute.  

“I'm not answering that?” 

“Come on,” Johnny pleaded. “Everyone is curious to know.”

He pointed to Bi-han.

“Even Mr. Freeze.”

“I do not care,” the said man quickly retorted. 

You groaned. This was ridiculous. And extremely embarrassing.

“I said no.”

“It's the Lizard, isn't it? Tell me I'm right,” Johnny stated with a grin. 

No, he wasn't. But you would be lying if you said you weren't curious about him. Has he ever had sex in his human form? You averted your eyes to the floor, an action that Johnny seemed to take as a sign of acceptance. 

“Right on the money!” Johnny exclaimed. 

“Why me?” Syzoth asked, raising a brow. 

You did not have an answer for him. There was a small doubt, but honestly, you did not answer because you knew Johnny would not leave you alone about it until you picked someone. Syzoth seemed the lesser of two evils. There was no way you were going to outright insult Baraka. 

“Whoa! I know that look,” Johnny declared. “Are you eager to find out?”

You widen your eyes. The fuck. Before he can help you dig a deeper grave for yourself, you stand from the table and walk away. You've never been more embarrassed. 

And strangely curious. 

The creek of the door to your room suddenly brings you from your thoughts. You watch in horror as it opens with no one on the other side. Doubting that the Academy is haunted, you sit up and clutch your hands into a fist, waiting to throw down with whoever is sneaking in on you, but before your eyes, you watch as Syzoth appears in the room. 

“Is this a bad time?” He asks. “I can come back.” 

You raise a brow. What is he doing running around invisible? You opt not to ask. 

“It's fine…I guess.”

What does he want? Is he here because of earlier? Your face heats up. 

“It's late, isn't it?” You ask.

Syzoth nods. 

“Most everyone is asleep. It's why I came here.”

“To talk? Could it not have waited?”

The reptilian shakes his head and squats beside the bed.  

“You never answered his question?”

Question? You raise a curious brow. However, the realization hits you like a punch to the gut. 

“Are you eager to find out?”

Your face heats up. Is he serious? 

“You came here to ask me that?”

Syzoth nods. 

“I wouldn't have, but your curiosity was evident.” 

Was it? You tighten your jaw.

“Listen. He was just talking out of his ass; it's what Johnny does. And I never meant–”

“So you don't wish for me to prove beyond a doubt that I am more than capable,” Syzoth protests. 

To be honest, you do. But this is too forward. You feel at a loss for words. On the other hand, however, you might never get this offer again. Survival isn't guaranteed. 

You wet your lips.

“I do.”

Syzoth grins. He closes the gap swiftly like the predator he is and crawls onto the bed. But you rest your hand on his chest, keeping him from moving on top of you. This is honestly moving too fast for your liking, but you understand the decision to move this along.  

“I never meant to single you out like that.” 

Taking hold of your arm, he pulls it from his chest and leans you back on the bedding, pressing your arm down near your head.

“We shall see,” Syzoth states.

He leans down and briefly kisses your lips before he releases you and crawls down your body to rest between your legs. Removing your nightwear and your panties, he wastes no time and spreads your outer lips. Clearly, you were wrong about him. 

 A brief wave of pleasure rolls over you as his tongue briefly flicks across you. He's not too bad. Better than you had expected. You sigh in relief.

For a few seconds more, Syzoth teases your clit, then with a gentle spontaneous kiss, he moves down and thrusts his tongue into your pussy. You jerk in response, but it is not so much the abruptness of it as it is the sensation. There is something strange about it. You have never felt a tongue like this inside of you before. It does not feel human; it is long and slender. Unfortunately, it takes you a moment to realize that he is using his actual reptilian tongue to taste your cunt. You are not sure what to think about the action, but it feels pleasantly indescribable. So much so. 

A warmth overtakes you, spreading across your body. You can not believe how much you are responding to this. But perhaps it is because this is new. It feels almost taboo and this alone makes you want Syzoth more. 

When his tongue touches your cervix, a deep pleasure twists your stomach and you grasp the bedding tight on either side of you in response. You hate to admit it, but this act will never last, not when he is twirling his tongue inside you like a parched beast. The more he teases your cunt, the harder it is to hold off your orgasm. 

“Easy,” you plead, nudging him with your thigh. 

Not just yet. 

You want to enjoy this more.

Syzoth sits back and cleans his grinning lips with his human tongue, then slips his hand between your legs and slides a finger into your wet heat. A low sigh of appreciation leaves your mouth. 

“I don't scare you?” He asks, tilting his head. 

“That's a funny thing to ask someone when you are knuckle deep in them,” you retort.

Syzoth snorts. He adds another finger and pumps it leisurely inside you in a circular motion. The deep intense pressure on your walls forces your body to tighten. 

“I underestimated you a bit, which I admit was wrong,” you continue. 

“You surely are,” Syzoth agrees. “But I've not nearly begun to prove you incorrect.”

An embarrassed heat rises to your face. What more does he have in mind?

Leaning down, he captures your clit and teases it, sucking on it lightly as he slows his movement. The dull pleasure this creates is not enough to build on. And what’s worse, Syzoth knows this. He gently runs his tongue over the bundle of nerves until you can no longer take the inconsistent ebb and flow. 

“Please. Don't make me beg,” you insist.

His breath pours against your clit as he laughs. But upon your desperate request, he hastens his pace. The lewd sound of your cunt, as he pumps his fingers into you permeates the air, bringing an embarrassed heat to your face. You are more aroused by him than you thought. Though it's not unwelcome. What annoys you more is that Syzoth is unknowingly conditioning your body to take him, but the reason he came here was not to fuck you.

Unless perhaps you asked. Or begged. 

A jolt of pleasure shoots across your body, tearing you from your thoughts. The reptilian flicks his tongue up and down your clit at a relentless pace. You don't mind, however. It feels too damn good. Your body tightens and arches as the pressure increases, edging you closer to that feeling of elation you hunger for. 

It's almost too soon. But you want it. 

I need it…I need to cum. 

Your thoughts are consumed by the image of him manhandling you into a mating press as he fucks you. The blissed-out wreck he would make of you seems too real. You can feel it. The tension, the delicious stretch of your walls as your cunt is filled. 

A deep heat overtakes you, bringing tears to your eyes. The faint tickle of an orgasm builds quickly. It is far too late to stop it now, not like you desire to. You stare up at the ceiling and shove a hand over your mouth in an attempt to contain your desperate moans, but they still fill your ears as an intense orgasm washes over you.

Your body arches in response, tensing up, but Syzoth easily presses you down onto the bedding as he coaxes you through it. 

When it begins to fade, your body goes slack from exhaustion. Warm tears leak from the corner of your eyes, sliding down your heated face. You are on cloud nine, but the finisher comes when Syzoth again sinks his forked tongue into your fluttering cunt. Your body arches and the hand over your mouth slips down and into the hood of his outfit, taking hold of his short locks.

This is a bit too much. You whine in desperation. There is no pain, but the overstimulation feels like sharp tickles coursing through your body. Luckily, Syzoth takes the hint and removes his tongue from you.

Holy fuck. 

Sitting up, Syzoth crawls on top of you, coming up the bed.      

“Was that acceptable?”

You nod. 

“Beyond a doubt.”

He grins. 

“For you perhaps.”

What? He leans down and trails his human tongue across your cheek.

“As I said, I have nearly just begun,” he whispers.

“Yeah?” You question. It's all you can muster, given this revelation. 

Syzoth snorts

“Another time perhaps. When you’re not so unraveled.”  

You can hardly wait.

[allthingsfangirl101]

Enemies to Lovers – Joe Keery

I have lived next to Joe Keery for two years and those two years have been hell. He has parties every weekend, trashes the hallway, blasts music, slams doors, smokes, makes passive-aggressive comments when I run into him, and is just a horrible neighbor.

"Up early and out early. Like always, Ms. Y/L/N," Joe said as soon as I left my apartment. I looked up and saw him unlocking his door.

"Up late and home late. Like always, Mr. Keery," I sighed as I locked the door. I turned around, my heart sinking into my stomach when I saw the bruise on his cheek and the bandage wrapped around his wrist.

"Are you alright?" I asked. My question made him freeze. He glanced at me before down at his wrist.

"Oh," he said slowly. He looked up at me and smiled softly, "I'm fine. Just a stupid accident on set that I made worse."

"How'd you make it worse?"

"I got drunk," he laughed. I smiled but quickly stopped.

"You should get some sleep," I said, clearing my throat.

"And you should get to work," he said, matching my tone.

I walked toward the elevator as Joe walked into his apartment. As I headed to work, I went back over my and Joe's strange interaction that morning.

I went through my day, forcing myself to forget about my neighbor. After a long shift, I happily left for the day. I got home, my entire body aching. As I unlocked the door, Joe left his apartment.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he teased. I nodded but didn't say anything. "You okay?" He asked as I opened my door.

"Just tired," I shrugged.

"From shopping all day?" He smirked. I glared at him before walking into my apartment and slamming the door behind me.

Well, never mind. It looks like that moment of weakness Joe had this morning was just that. A moment.

* * * * *

I went about my normal week and it wasn't until the weekend that I noticed I hadn't seen Joe since the other day. I walked into my apartment Friday night with a fresh bottle of wine and some takeout.

The takeout was finished and I was working on the bottle of wine when there was a crash outside.

"Actor Boy is home," I mumbled. I sighed when there was another cash. "And drunk."

I started to stand up but giggled when I drunkenly fell back onto the couch.

"I guess I am too," I laughed. I jumped when there was a loud knock on my door. I sighed and slowly stood up. Once I had my bearings, I walked to the front door. I reached for the handle but froze when I heard his voice.

"Y/N! Open the damn door!"

I took a step back, my hands instantly starting to shake. Everything froze as he continued to pound on my door. I held my breath, silently praying for him to leave.

"Hey!"

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard Joe. I looked at my watch and mumbled under my breath, "What are you doing home? Please go back to work."

"Go away," my ex-boyfriend Scott laughed.

"Please go, Joe," I whispered. "I'm begging you."

"No," Joe said flatly. "What are you doing here? And why are you knocking on that door like an ass?"

"This doesn't concern you," Scott spat at him.

"Yeah, it does," Joe responded, his anger slowly rising.

"Oh, really?" Scott laughed. "Are you dating my leftovers?"

"You're the dumbass who lost a five-star meal."

I didn't know if I should be flattered or offended. Joe was standing up for me, but it kind of felt like an insult.

"I threw it out when it lost its flavor," Scott said through bared teeth.

That was definitely an insult.

"Wait, what?" Joe asked with the sole purpose of pissing Scott off. "I'm sorry, man. You kinda lost me. Are you saying you dumped Y/N?"

My heart flipped when Joe started laughing. "Yes," Scott seethed. "I dumped her."

"You see," Joe sighed, "I just can't believe that. I don't believe that you would dump a girl as gorgeous as Y/N. She would definitely dump you when she realized you were a piece of drunk shit that probably never got her to finish. . ."

I swung the door open, knowing that what Joe was saying was only going to end one way. And I was right. Scott had his fist clenched and his arm raised, but he stopped himself when he heard my door open.

"There it is," he said, breathing heavily as he turned around. I glanced behind him at Joe. He took a step closer, carefully watching me.

"What do you want, Scott?"

"I wanted to allow you to beg for me back," he slurred. Joe was watching us closely with his fists clenched.

"I don't want you back."

I gasped and took a step back when Scott's drunk glare darkened. "You don't want me back," he seethed. "Wow. You ungrateful little. . ."

He raised his hand again but he didn't stop himself. My eyes widened when I realized it was Joe who stopped Scott by grabbing his elbow.

"I know you weren't about to hit a woman," he threatened. "You sure as hell weren't going to hit that woman."

"I told you, Hollywood, this doesn't concern you." Scott tore his elbow out of Joe's hand and took a step closer to me. Joe didn't let him get any closer. My heart jumped into my throat when Joe instantly put himself between me and Scott.

"It concerns me when you're threatening a woman," Joe said, the tone of his voice changing again. "It definitely concerns me when the woman you're threatening is my neighbor."

"Neighbor," Scott laughed. "I'm sure Hollywood's Party Boy just loooves living next to Nerdy Stay-at-Home Bookworm. I bet she complains about your partying. How many?"

"How many what?" Joe asked through clenched teeth.

"How many times has she called the cops on you, Keery?" Scott smirked. "How many times has she demanded you turn down the music or stop leaving empty kegs in the hallway or having sex in the elevator?"

"The only woman I've hooked up with in the elevator is Y/N," Joe said making my stomach flip.

We have never done anything close to hooking up in the elevator or anywhere else in the building. He clearly said that for one reason and one reason only; to get under Scott's skin. And it worked.

"Y/N hates hooking up anywhere other than the bedroom," Scott said, his voice dropping.

"Maybe all she needed was the right guy to take her in the elevator," Joe smirked.

I gasped when Scott's glare darkened. I took a step closer to Joe, gently putting my hands on his shoulder blades. "Joe," I whispered, "Please don't push him."

"Alright," Joe sighed. "You're making my girl nervous so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

I was too scared of Scott's murderous glare to react to Joe calling me his girl.

"Leave?" Scott laughed. "I'm not going anywhere until I talk to her."

"Well, that's a problem."

"And why is that, Lover-boy?" Scott asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because I'm not letting you talk to her."

For once, Joe's tone made me nervous. I looked around and saw the glare on his face. As he stared down my ex, he reached behind himself and grabbed my hand.

"I'm only going to tell you one more time," he threatened. "Leave our place or I swear, you'll never be able to use that hand to pleasure yourself again."

"Our place?"

I caught on to that too.

"You two live together?!"

I knew it was going to happen before Scott even made a move. I guess Joe knew that too because he instantly reacted. He pushed me further behind him and hit Scott's jaw before he could do anything.

I stood there, frozen against my front door, as Scott fell to the floor.

"Guess I'm going to have to give you one last warning," Joe said, his voice dark. "Leave Y/N alone or you'll only be known as the loser ex who got his ass kicked by her current boyfriend."

Without looking at me, Joe grabbed my hand and pulled us into my apartment. He let go of my hand and instantly ran his fingers through his hair. I watched as he angrily paced back and forth across my living room.

"Thank you," I whispered with my arms wrapped tightly around myself. My voice made him look up at me.

"Of course," he said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," I said as I tightened my arms and focused on my feet. I held my breath when Joe's shoes came into view.

"Y/N," he said under his breath. "Look at me. Please?"

I took a shaky breath and struggled to hide my tears as I looked up at him. His eyes softened when he saw the expression on my face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked. Before I could lie and tell him I was fine, he said, "It's okay if you're not. Talk to me, Y/N."

"It's nothing," I started to say.

"Come on, Y/N," Joe sighed. "At least tell me who that guy was."

Joe's face dropped when he figured it out for himself. He took a step closer to me and lowered his voice. "I was right," he whispered. "That guy is your ex."

I bit my lip as the tears started to spill even though I tried to stop them. Joe reached up and gently caught one.

"He used to hurt you."

He didn't say that like it was a question. Then again, from everything that just happened, it wasn't that hard to figure out.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said under his breath, "he will never hurt you again. Alright? I promise."

"You can't promise that," I sighed. He reached over and grabbed my hands, making me look at him.

"The next time you see him, even if it's across the street, you call me."

"But. . ."

"Promise me," he cut me off. "The next time you see him, you call me."

"I promise."

We stared at each other, the tension thick. For some reason, I spoke up.

"You want a beer?"

"I could go for a beer," Joe chuckled.

* * * * *

Joe and I ended up drinking and watching a movie. As the credits rolled and my mind incredibly hazy from the drinks, I looked over and my stomach did some weird flip. I gasped when Joe looked over at me.

"You good?" He asked.

"You can go home now," I said, my heart sinking at those words. I looked at him to see him with an odd look on his face.

"Is that what you want?" Joe asked.

"I figured you'd want to go home," I shrugged. "It's been a weird and long night. You've already done enough. . ."

"I'm not going anywhere if you feel safer with me here," he said, gently cutting me off. His eyes widened like he just realized what he said. He opened his mouth to take back what he said, but I spoke up.

"I do." I paused before adding, "Are you okay with staying?"

"I'll stay for as long as you want me."

Joe's eyes glanced down at my lips. When he looked back up at my eyes, he slowly leaned in. I had my chance to stop him, but I didn't. Soon, his lips were pressed against mine.

Part 2

[iamnotthere-idonotdie]

dream of me

part one

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synopsis: reader is an employee at wayne enterprises and gets a promotion from bruce, but the line between your professional relationship is blurred when he invites you to dinner.

content: bruce wayne x reader, no use of y/n, some cursing, some sex but not too graphic, mention of parents’ death

a/n: i had some other plans for this story but got a bad case of writers block so i decided to leave it here instead of dragging it out for the sole purpose of adding another plot point, i don’t have any plans for more parts to this but we’ll see, i honestly think i was more envisioning keaton’s bruce wayne for this story (at least i envisioned his house to look like keaton’s) because battinson’s would be pretty uncharacteristic for this, maybe this is an au where bruce wayne isn’t batman and just works at the company but i don’t know, point is just interpret bruce however you’d like, as always sorry about the typos, also sorry if it’s inaccurate that bruce doesn’t cook (i wasn’t sure if it was canon that he does or not so sorry if i was wrong in my guess, i should’ve just looked it up but honestly i was just ready to finally get this out of my drafts)

edit: i got around to making a part two

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grey clouds encompass the sky. your window is frosted by the freeze outside and slow snowflakes fall down like confetti. you walk up to the window and put your hand on it, letting the chilled glass send a shiver down your spine. it’s the first snowfall of winter. the first of likely many. though your penthouse offers a lavish view of the icy landscape of beautiful serenity, you know on the streets below the ice has already turned to slush and the snow has darkened from the dirty concrete. nothing beautiful lasts long in gotham city.

you pull your robe tighter around your shoulders and let out a sigh. you suppose you’d better get dressed for work. you walk across the bedroom to your closet and begin selecting your outfit. a stylish ensemble of pants, a button down top, and a sweater. you grab your boots out of the closet and set them down on the hardwood floor, the thud waking up your partner in bed. well, not exactly partner. but he kept you company last night, and warm this morning.

he rubs his eyes and sits up in bed.

“you’re leaving?” he asks, his words slurring as he tries to wake up.

“i have to go to work. we have a budget meeting today. i can’t be late.” you reply as you put your boots over your thick socks.

“what time is the meeting at?”

“ten.” you reply, flatly.

“well then what’s the rush? you still have plenty of time to get there.”

“not in this ice, i don’t.”

“well then at least let me kiss you goodbye.”

you reluctantly walk back over to the bed and kiss his cheek. you feel a sting in your chest and realize he didn’t see this as the one night stand you did.

“bye. i have to go.”

“see you later?” he asks as he gets out from under the covers, his clothes still off.

“maybe.” you say coldly. you don’t have time for this.

“okay, fine. bye.” he replies just as icy. good. it’s easier that way.

you put your coat on and grab your bag as you walk out the door, locking it behind you. he’ll unlock it again when he leaves but mrs. hanson down the hall has a spare. you’ll text her to lock the door for you later.

just as you predicted, the roads are a nightmare. you’re weaving in between other cars, willing the other drivers in them to go faster. you can’t be late for this meeting.

you finally get to the tower and pull into the garage, opting for a space right by the elevators. maybe if you get this promotion they’ll give you an assigned spot.

you get to your desk at 9:46. with a few minutes to spare, you go to the break room and make a coffee. someone keeps using your mug, so you have to use the communal one with the cartoon dog on it. not as professional as you’d like. and you can’t use a disposable because wayne enterprises is committed to being waste-free. at least waste-free when it comes to the break room. other areas in the company could benefit from that policy. but that’s what you’re going to propose in your meeting. you know this corporation is not going to run out of money anytime soon, but there are still places to improve on efficiency. you drink your coffee, black, and make your way back to your desk. you glance at the conference room every few seconds to watch your boss set up for the meeting. you analyze his every move, trying to gauge his mood at the moment. sometimes these proposals of yours don’t go over very well if he seems to have woken up on the wrong side of the bed. you need him in a good mood. this meeting can potentially determine whether or not you can continue climbing the corporate ladder into that manager position you’ve been pining for for two years.

you gather your folder and notepad, opting to leave the coffee sitting at your desk, and you walk into the conference room.

“good morning mr. glass. enjoying the snow this morning?” you greet him in your most chipper tone in an attempt to sway what you think is a bad mood.

“well i would if the roads weren’t so goddamn icy. these people can’t drive in the snow.”

so maybe starting the conversation with that was a poor choice.

“yes, it can be very frustrating to drive in it.” you try to be as agreeable as possible.

more of your colleagues start to filter into the room as you take your seat at the end of the table. the conversation is low between everyone as they wait for the meeting to begin.

after 15 minutes, you start getting more anxious. your stare threatens to burn a hole through your folder with the proposal in it. why is this taking so long?

you now understand why there’s been a delay, as bruce wayne enters the room. fuck. bruce wayne is going to have to listen to your proposal now? it was nerve-wracking enough to have to pitch this to your boss, but the owner of the company? your boss’s boss? your hands start to shake and you try to wipe the sweat off of them onto your pants.

“i apologize everyone. i didn’t mean to keep you all waiting.” mr. wayne says as he takes his seat on the opposite end of the table.

mr. glass stands up from his seat at the head of the table. “well as long as you’re here, let’s get started on our quarterly report and budget for next month.”

the rest of the meeting is clouded by your anxiety. all you can think about is how much you don’t want to fuck this up. especially not in front of bruce wayne.

“well it looks like there’s plenty of room for improvement. how do you suggest we close this gap?” mr. glass asks the room, but it’s clear he is directing the question at mr. wayne.

“does anyone have any suggestions?” mr. wayne looks around the table.

without thinking you raise your hand and speak up.

“i have a budgeting proposal that i would like to share. if that’s alright.”

“that’s more than alright. let’s hear it.” mr. wayne gestures for you to take the stand, so to speak.

you stand and shakily take your papers out of the folder.

“as we all know, our expenses have been increasing as of late. and while these expenses have allowed us to improve on some essential aspects and departments, i believe there is a more efficient way we could be doing it.” you pause and look around the room. “firstly…”

the pitch goes better than you could have imagined. you were able to make your proposals clearly, answer questions thoroughly, and present confidently. you sit down after finishing and can’t help but smile, proud of yourself.

“well, that was quite a lot. thank you, but i think some of those implementations are a bit far-fetched.” mr. glass says and you can’t help but hear the condescending tone. your smile drops and you feel your face get hot in embarrassment. so much for that promotion.

“i actually really like what you had to say. i especially liked the suggestion to put more money into outreach.” mr. wayne says to you, smiling. “did you have any specific suggestions on where to do that?”

“thank you mr. wayne. i think it would be extremely beneficial and useful to prioritize teaching youth about technology; promoting stem learning and encouraging them to pursue higher education and research into it. we can even offer scholarships and grants to help students who won’t be able to afford the college tuition. and possibly gifting students new computers to further encourage learning.”

you get so passionate about this topic. you yourself were one of those kids. those kids who didn’t grow up in a mansion, but in a dingy apartment with a single father. those kids who couldn’t even afford to think about college, let alone actually pursue it. it was through a wayne scholarship program that gave you the opportunity to go to university. and now, if you have any say in the matter, you’d be proud to help give that opportunity to someone else who needs it.

“i think that’s great. giving these kids a way to focus their skills in a field they love. great work.” mr. wayne looks impressed, and you can’t help but smile even bigger.

“i appreciate that, mr. wayne.”

mr. glass clears his throat and stands again.

“well it looks like we have a solution here.” your boss says, clearly annoyed. “meeting adjourned, everyone. thank you.”

you stand up and gather your things together. you notice out of the corner of your eye that mr. wayne is making his way toward you.

“that was an excellent proposal. i think there’s a lot of potential there.”

“thank you mr. wayne.”

“bruce, please. i’ve actually been thinking about starting a new outreach division specifically working with the youth of gotham. when that happens, i’d like for you to head that department.”

you stare at him in shock for a moment then finally speak up.

“really? you want me?”

“you clearly have a passion for this. we need that.”

“wow. thank you. i’d be very interested in that.”

heading a division? in a program you care deeply about? this is much better than you had hoped for.

“great. i’ll be in touch and we’ll get started soon.”

“perfect. thank you mr. wa..”

“please, just call me bruce.”

you feel yourself blush a bit.

“bruce, thank you. thank you so much for this opportunity.”

“it’s my pleasure. i’m happy to give the position to someone who really cares about it.”

“i do, very much.”

bruce just smiles as he starts out the room.

“it was nice meeting you. and i’m looking forward to working with you on this.” he says.

“it was nice meeting you too. thank you, again.”

bruce smiles as he exits the room and you watch him through the glass as he makes his way down the hall.

you can’t believe it. this is the perfect opportunity for you. you spend the rest of the day too distracted by glee to focus on your spreadsheets. this is life changing. you can’t help but think of bruce differently too. he’d been up to your floor for meetings many times before, but this was the first time you were sitting in too. you’d always pictured him, frankly, not very positively. you knew this company was a great one and you were proud to work here, but now you’re feeling even better about being a part of wayne enterprises’ legacy.

at 5:36, you start gathering your things to go home. after organizing your desk and grabbing your bag, you start heading out of the office and to the elevators to the garage. you’re the last one to leave on your floor—even mr. glass left early—so you wait by the elevators alone. you hear the familiar ding and the doors open to reveal bruce wayne inside. he’s flipping through some pages in a manila folder when he looks up at you and smiles.

“hello,” he says pleasantly. “last one out?”

“yes, it’s just me.”

“what floor?”

“one, please.”

he presses the button, the button stating GF already glowing.

“thank you.”

the rest of the elevator ride is silent. bruce seems enveloped in this folder and you aren’t much of a talker anyways. the doors open and you start to exit the elevator, when bruce says,

“i’d like to start this project as soon as possible, monday.”

you stop and turn to face him. he’s smiling lightly and you smile back.

“that would be perfect. i’m very excited to start working on it.”

“i am as well. and i’m looking forward to working with you more closely too.”

“thank you bruce. i look forward to that as well.” and with that, the elevator doors close between you.

you smile again, thinking more about this job. but you realize you’re not just excited about the position, but the close proximity you’ll be working with bruce now. and how he said he’s looking forward to it.

you quickly dispel the thoughts from your mind. you’re frustrated at yourself for thinking of something so unprofessional. he was bruce wayne, for gods sake. your boss. any other notions needed to be eliminated, especially before starting this new position. you can’t afford something like that distracting you from doing your job and doing it well.

the weekend is spent with you primarily working on the project. you want everything ready to go and well-organized on monday. you want every detail planned out, to the tee. sunday night, you have all your folders, planners, binders, and other papers, all organized, sitting at the table by the door so you don’t forget them. you finally allow yourself to relax a minute before going to bed, so you draw a bath. you sit by the tub and watch it fill with the warm water, letting your mind wander. the rush of the water streaming out of the faucet provides the perfect white noise for you to get lost in a daydream. you think of this job, the company… bruce. when your mind starts to think of him, you let it stay on the thought. the thought of him, how nice he was to you during the meeting and afterwards. the elevator ride and his sweet goodbye. you think of his smile and you find yourself smiling too.

the sound of the water overflowing the tub jolts you out of your dream state.

“shit!”

you shut the faucet off and pull the plug on the tub drain to let the water go back down. you grab a few towels and try to mop the water up off the floor, leaving them in a wet pile by the door. you’re not feeling very relaxed anymore and don’t quite feel like a bath, but you’re not about to let this water go to waste. so, you slip your bathrobe off and slide into the water, grateful it’s still warm. you let out a sigh and close your eyes, trying to find serenity. again, your mind goes back to bruce. you can’t believe you’re allowing yourself to develop a crush on him. are you in elementary school? this is your boss, you can’t let these thoughts jeopardize this amazing career development.

you sit there for a while, until the water starts to cool down and your fingers start to prune. you get out of the tub and drain it, then grab your wet towels and bring them to the laundry room to wash. you take your robe off, the cold air stinging your naked body, and throw it in the washing machine too. you make a stop at the thermostat to turn it up as you make your way to your bedroom. you slip into pajamas and gingerly walk to the window and look out over the cityscape, the foggy night sky making it look spooky as ever. you allow yourself one last thought of bruce before you get into bed and fall asleep.

you wake up extra early monday morning and head straight to work. the ice has luckily been cleared a bit by gotham’s snow plows, but that doesn’t stop the traffic from forming. it’s okay, you gave yourself plenty of time to get there.

you get up to your floor almost an hour early and make a cup of coffee in the break room. at least one positive of coming in this early, no one’s using your mug.

you sit down at your desk and start running through your folder for the project, drinking your coffee until the mug is almost dry.

“good morning.”

you’re startled by a low voice behind you. it’s bruce.

“good morning bruce. you’re in early.”

“i could say the same to you.”

“i’m just ready to get started.”

“well great. we’ll get things started once everyone else gets in.” he points to your near-empty mug. “more coffee?”

“oh, sure. thank you.”

“how do you take it?”

“just black, please.”

bruce picks up your cup and takes it back to the conference room, his own mug in his other hand. he comes back with two steaming cups and sets yours back on your desk.

“thank you.” you say, picking it up and taking a sip.

“of course. so, how was your weekend?”

“it was good. mostly just working on this.” you pat your folder, gesturing to the project.

“i hope you were able to get some rest in too.”

“i was, yes. and you? how was your weekend?”

“oh, fairly uneventful. i spent most of it working as well.”

“well, i hope you were able to get some rest in too.” you say with a smile.

bruce smiles back

“i was, yes.”

the two of you continue talking at your desk as the first few members of your team start to trickle in.

when the rest of your team arrives, you and bruce all meet in the conference room to discuss strategies and begin the plans for this venture. it’s a productive day, with you sharing your thoughts on how to increase efficiency and bruce bouncing off your ideas. you realize you two work well together, your shared values and ideals harmonizing with each other to create a thought out and amazing plan. you start packing up feeling even more confident with this new position and you already cannot wait to keep going with it.

at the end of the day, bruce finds you again at the elevator, and this time the ride isn’t filled with awkward silence but with engaged conversation between colleagues.

“i enjoyed hearing about your plans to bring this project into gotham’s schools. your point about giving each classroom the proper curriculum via new technology was especially helpful.” bruce smiles at you and you can’t help but feel proud of yourself.

“thank you bruce. i think the whole team was able to work very well together and we made some great progress today.”

“i think so too.”

the elevator dings and the doors open to the garage.

“well, thank you again. i’ll see you tomorrow.”

“see you tomorrow.” he says with a smile.

you walk towards your car with your back facing the elevator when you hear the doors close. and then footsteps coming up behind you.

bruce taps your shoulder.

“would you like to have dinner with me tonight?”

you’re shocked at his question and, truthfully, your first instinct is to decline. he must sense your apprehension because he starts to backpedal on his question.

“if you have plans, or just don’t want to, i understand.”

“no… i would be happy to have dinner with you.”

“great. we can go down to my car if you’d like.”

“sure.” you say with a smile. as you follow behind him back to the elevator to go to the ground floor, you feel yourself blushing.

the two of you make it to the lobby and you realize how rarely you actually see this part of the offices, with your daily routine utilizing the parking garage every day since you started working here. bruce’s car is brought around front and he opens the passenger door for you to get in.

you make small talk as you drive to his home. you talk about work, how exciting the project is. you talk about the weather, how it’s nice that the ice is clearing. it’s a pleasant drive with bruce at the wheel. when you get to his home, bruce comes around and opens the car door for you again and you head up the steps to his front door. you enter into his insanely large home and are in awe of how just one person can inhabit so much space.

“good evening, master bruce. dinner is almost ready.” an older gentleman greets you two as you enter.

“this is alfred,” bruce introduces him. “he takes care of a some things around here.”

“i take care of everything around here. pleasure to meet you.” alfred offers a hand to shake.

“the pleasure is all mine, alfred.” you say with a chuckle.

“we can wait in the living room. i’ll start a fire.” bruce says.

alfred makes his way to the kitchen as you follow bruce to what you assume is one of multiple living rooms in the house. he puts some logs in and starts a fire in the almost-comically large fireplace then sits down next to you on the sofa.

“dinner smells delicious.” you say, filling the air with light conversation to accompany the crackle of the fire.

“alfred is an amazing cook. i’ve tried to learn from him but i suppose it just wasn’t in the cards for me.”

“i never really learned either. my mother was a great cook too. i wish she had been able to teach me… she passed when i was very young. that’s actually one of the few things i remember about her, her cooking.”

you don’t know why you suddenly started talking about your mother. it’s not exactly light fireside conversation.

“i’m sorry…” bruce says quietly.

“it’s okay. it was a long time ago, and my father and i were able to grow a lot closer over the years.”

“are you and your father still close?”

“he.. actually is gone too. he died of cancer a few years ago. losing my mother was hard, of course. but losing my dad… he was all i knew for so long. all we had was each other.” you start to feel yourself welling up, and you realize you’ve never talked about this with anyone else before.

bruce sits there quietly, and you try to fight the tears but when one falls, the others follow suit.

“i’m sorry…” you start as you try to wipe them away.

“don’t be.” bruce says quietly as he gently wipes a tear off your cheek. he lets his hand stay there, his thumb resting gently on your cheekbone.

you lock your eyes with his and just as you start to get your tears under control, bruce leans in and lightly kisses you. and though you know he’s your boss and you know it’s unprofessional… you don’t stop him. instead, you look at him, and then lean in yourself and kiss him back, stronger. the light of the fire casts dancing shadows across the two of you as you fall into each other on the ornate sofa. dinner has left your mind, work has left your mind, everything has left your mind. everything but him.

you continue kissing, passion growing more and more as the fire grows too. he’s unbuttoning your shirt and you’re taking off his jacket. shoes are kicked off and before it continues, he’s scooping you up with his arms under your knees and around your shoulders, carrying you up the stairs to what you assume is his bedroom. he opens the door and not-so gently puts you on the bed. he finishes undressing himself and then starts taking your clothes off too. he slides your pants down and off your legs and lifts your shirt off, leaving your arms laying above your head. you feel vulnerable, yet when he gets on top, you somehow also feel safe, it just all feels so right. this intensity, this passion, this craving you have for each other is more than you bargained for but also, somehow, everything you ever wanted.

you finish, bruce quick to follow. you only now start to think about how loud you must have been. you both lay there, catching your breath, sweating, and realize how fast the time has gone by. you’ve definitely missed dinner.

bruce finds you an oversized t-shirt and a pair of his boxers for you to wear. he finds a shirt for himself and slips a pair of sweatpants on. you and him make it back downstairs to find that alfred has stored your dinner in the fridge and left instructions on how to properly heat it up. you and bruce laugh at each other for not knowing how to work the stove as you stumble through alfred’s pointers, but you both finally manage to reheat the meal and go back to the living room to eat. with the fire burning its last embers, you and bruce eat your dinner under the low orange light by the fireplace. you talk about nothing yet about everything as you enjoy the delicious late-night dinner. bruce takes your plate to the kitchen and washes the dishes as you bask in the final warmth of the fire.

“i may not be able to cook,” bruce starts as he makes his way back to you. “but i at least know how to clean up after myself. alfred left another note saying to leave the dishes to him, but i figured i’d save him a few extra minutes.”

“how very kind of you.” you say, teasingly.

“well, i am extremely generous.” he says with a sarcastic tone.

you laugh and when he sits back down next to you, you pull him in and kiss him. he cradles your jaw in his palm and kisses you back, his thumb gently rubbing your temple. he pulls away and kisses your forehead. exhaustion gets the better of you and you yawn.

“you tired?” he says smiling.

“no, of course not. i’m as awake as ever, i could run a marathon.” if your sarcastic tone didn’t make it clear you were indeed tired, the second yawn surely did.

he chuckles and stands, taking your hand in his as he leads you back upstairs.

“i have a guest room if you want it, right there down the hall.” he says, pointing ahead.

you look down the hall then back up at him.

“or…”

he chuckles lightly and grabs your hand again, taking you back into his room. you get under the covers with him and he lays down on his back as you curl up next to him, resting your arm across his stomach and your head on his chest. his steady heartbeat and his gentle stroking of your arm lulls you quickly to sleep. as you lay there, seduced into a deep slumber by the warmth and comfort, you dream only of bruce.

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