jazmintheturtle

[aengelren]

tell him you know a place then drop him off at a therapist

[haerni]

심재윤 ✶ 𝑮UESS WE’RE 𝑴EANT TO 𝑩E

𝒞ontent . fluff ﾉ strangers to lover ﾉ meet cute ﾉ down bad sim jaeyun ﾉ love at first sight ﾉ attempt at crack ﾉ layla is the greatest wingdog ever . minimal proofread ﾉ 1.2k words .

ℒove notes . erm.. smth about jake this week has me whipping out my phone and typing all this this is literally so self indulgent & just cute layla (my bb)

wherein a cute dog suddenly comes out of nowhere, and you just can’t really help yourself and get to know her handsome dad.

having a dog has a lot of benefits.

for one, they reduce stress according to a research by just simply petting them it lowers the cortisol hormones, or whatever that was.

two, they stave off loneliness—if someone were to ask jake how he is after having layla, he definitely would say how amazing he’s been and how happy he is. after all, layla is just the cutest. unlike some dog his friend has, but that’s beside the point—sim jaeyun doesn’t need anything else.

and for the last one, is that they provide companionship! layla is a smart dog, just like jake. like father like daughter, some would say.

who knew that a simple detour from the dog park and layla’s incessant want to go to the nearest neighborhood has jake left with no choice but to comply. who could say no to that cute face? layla has been a good girl, right? so why not take another thirty minutes walk? sure it might be a little weird that she specifically wanted to go there, but it is probably nothing right?

but when sim jaeyun said they provide companionship, layla had a different idea about it.

jake never knew there was this side of the city, the wind blew just a little colder, the aroma of the flowers that were displayed outside hangs in the air and not far from where they came from, a small quaint bakery shop comes into view. layla who is visibly ecstatic as if she had walk down this road numerous times, which jake has suspected that maybe when the dog walker—his mom—has been taking his baby all this time.

not much is there to work in your little humble shop, as expected on a wednesday noon.

the bell chimes with its usual rhythm, there’s not much customer at this time of the day. usually, you would be greeted by a beautiful classy woman who seems to be middle age, but has a young heart with her cute little dog, whom she called layla.

but you supposed mrs. sim is pre-occupied as of the moment, because why the fuck is there a cute guy at your shop with the same dog who you give free treats every wednesday at noon, instead of mrs. sim who smiles warmly and orders her favorite blueberry cheesecake with hot tea on the side?

oh my gosh. there’s a cute guy at your store and he is obviously new — you would’ve definitely remembered that face anywhere — and you have to act normal now. you straighten up as you ready your usual greetings to any customers.

a soft ambiance wafts through the air as jaeyun walks in. as layla basically drags him in faster and further into the shop, not really noticing upfront because he was too busy looking for signs and posters if pets were even allowed in here. not really wanting to cause any trouble or pay any fine — though let’s be real, he is more concerned if layla were to have a record than to pay a measly fine that wouldn’t put a single dent in his bank account. though the amount of few pets that are scattered across those tables tells him that it’s fine.

before he knew it he was right in front of the counter, with disheveled hair and a little breath and layla wagging her tail swiftly with shiny eyes as if expecting something.

“hi layla!” a soft voice suddenly spoke and as if on cue layla barks and tilts her head — so layla knows you?

his eyes now meet yours.

as if the world is getting a little faster, is this what they say in the movies? though, he thinks it was a little different. your eyes are pretty — you are pretty. it’s absolutely breathtaking — you are breathtaking. does the light give you a different kind of glow? you were absolutely beautiful with your apron a little tattered on the side — he can definitely buy you a new one if you let him — your little hairs astray to your face is perfect, can you get anymore amazing?

is he going insane? was this normal? is any of it normal? is he even normal at all?

because why is jaeyun seeing you in the kitchen with the same apron you wear right now, a small smile on your face, a spatula in your hand, the aroma that permeates through the entire walls of the house, your house. and he doesn’t know what you are cooking, but right there and then sim jaeyun knew. why was he fantasizing your future? together?!

he’s definitely gone insane.

why is he looking at you like a deer in the headlights? is your hair okay? is there any dirt in your face? are you really going to embarrass yourself first before you even have a chance to get to know this cute guy?

gathering yourself, mustering up to talk to this man — who you think is probably the prettiest you’ve ever seen? hello? — you really need to get yourself together.

“hi? i’m yn, can i get you anything?” you cringe slightly from your voice.

a minute passes and the atmosphere grew to be more awkward than you had initially anticipated.

you try again, no matter how embarrassing it is and how much you want the ground to swallow you up. “uhm—”

“can i get your cake?” what.

someone please strike down jaeyun right this instant. why the fuck did he say that to you? great. now you think he’s a creep.

now how did he even mess up between asking you for your number that was supposed to be later and also asking for that carrot cake that looks so tasty in your menu?

“pardon?”

jake panics at that, “no, omg i’m so sorry! that’s not what i meant- wait no! i meant it, but i mean it differently, but i also mean it.”

wonderful. now he’s rambling and fumbling in front of you, what more can be worse than this?

and then he hears you chuckle. oh god now you’re laughing — how can someone laugh as gracefully as you? — but no, wait are you laughing at him? you sound so heavenly though. wait no, focus sim jaeyun!

jake lets out a sigh, a shy smile hanging on his lips, a hand coming up to his neck. “—i’m sorry, i don’t know what i’m doing.”

“no, you’re fine! i should be the one who’s sorry for laughing, that was totally unprofessional of me.” you frantically waved your hands in front of you.

jake finds your mannerisms adorable, “you’re okay,” he reassures you, feeling a little sorry. “let’s start over, shall we?”

“yeah,” you breathe out. “i would like that very much.”

the smiles forming in your faces are contagious.

“hi, i’m yn. would you like anything?” you start again.

surprisingly enough, jake didn’t mess up this time. thank goodness you were willing to start over — he might as well die from the utter humiliation he just felt a while ago — but he’s glad he didn’t.

“hello, pretty. i’m jaeyun, can i get that carrot cake?”

and if he’s lucky, your number will find its way to his contacts, just like how he found your quaint shop.

he’s glad he let layla drag him all the way to you.

𖹭 likes and reblogs are highly appreciated! this was so rushed omg

[renecdote]

In case you want mORE :’)

cuddling in the first morning light + buddie anniversary? ❤️

hi amy ily I hope you enjoy these sappy boys (ft party dog socks as requested) mwah 💛 [Read on AO3]

It’s a miracle, really, that they make it out of the ER before five a.m. A miracle that they make it out of the ER without an admittance at all, Buck thinks privately, but that’s more to do with his shitty luck with ending up in the hospital than any feeling that he actually needs to be there right now. If it had been up to him, they wouldn’t have come at all.

“Which is why it’s not up to you,” is all Eddie had said to that on the drive in, his hands tight around the wheel and his foot a little heavier than normal through the yellow lights. The real miracle, honestly, is that Buck managed to talk his way out of an ambulance trip. He only fainted, like, one and half times, he’s fine, but you have one little history of cardiac arrest after being struck by lightning and suddenly everyone is more worried than they need to be.

No. That’s not fair. He’s just—he’s tired. He wants to be home already.

Eddie’s hand guides him back to the car and Buck tries not to lean into it too much, more unsteady than he is willing to admit but not wanting to keep worrying Eddie. He focuses on putting one foot in front of the other, thinking dreamily about getting home and sinking into their very comfortable bed with his very snuggle-able husband.

He slumps against the window, eyes closing as he lets out a shaky breath, and he only remembers to put on his seatbelt when Eddie gets in the driver’s seat and clicks his own belt into place. The snap is loud in the quiet bubble of the car. Buck winces at the pulse of pain through his head. The fluids the hospital gave him did something, he’s pretty sure, but the headache is clinging tight.

Eddie fiddles with the radio, searching for a traffic report, and Buck winces again when a host far too cheery for the early hour informs them that there has been an accident so they’ll have to take a detour.

“Sorry,” Buck sighs. He has said it too many times already, he knows, but he can’t help it. It doesn’t make sense that traffic would be his fault but it feels like one more thing he needs to apologise for anyway.

“You don’t need to apologise, Buck,” Eddie tells him, and somehow there’s still none of the exasperation Buck keeps expecting to hear there. He sounds more tired than he did at the start of the night, exhaustion dripping from his consonants and his shoulders as he glances in the rearview mirror before pulling out of the carpark, but his voice is just as patient as it was the first and second and tenth time Buck said he was sorry.

“It’s just.” Buck bites his lip, working through the frustrating press of tears behind his eyes. He’s just tired. He’s tired, and feeling more like crap than he wants Eddie to know, and, “It’s our anniversary.”

Eddie glances at him then. His hand twitches towards the gear stick like he wants to shift it into reverse and back up down the road until they’re back in front of the hospital.

“You said you didn’t hit your head when you fell.”

Buck groans. “Please don’t turn the car around.”

“Our anniversary is in March,” Eddie reminds him, as if Buck doesn’t know that. He was the one who wanted a spring wedding and then he spent the whole day sneezing because of hay fever. It would have been miserable if it wasn’t the best day of his life.

“I know it’s not March,” Buck insists, fully aware that he’s being too insist-y about it. He’s just so tired. “I didn’t mean that anniversary.”

Eddie frowns. He opens his mouth, then closes it, and in the flash of orange streetlights, Buck can see him flipping through a calendar in his mind, Chris’ school events and work shifts and all the important days in their lives marked on it with colourful pens and stickers. Buck can see him coming up blank on anything that matches today’s date.

It’s stupid, really. Extra stupid because Buck didn’t even know about it, not consciously, and then he accidentally caught a glimpse of Eddie’s personnel file in Bobby’s office on Monday and—

“It’s the day we met,” he says, playing with the plastic band around his wrist. “The day you joined the 118.”

The day their lives changed forever, even though they didn’t know it at the time.

“It’s stupid,” Buck adds, mumbling.

They’re at a stop light now, and the cross street is clear, but instead of accelerating forward, Eddie puts the handbrake on and leans across the console to pull Buck into a kiss. A sound of surprise catches in the back of Buck’s throat, but then he curls his fingers into the front of Eddie’s hoodie and kisses back.

“I love you,” Eddie says when they pull apart, his eyes crinkling with his smile. Buck can hardly see it in the dim interior of the car, but he can hear it in Eddie’s voice, the kind of warmth and fondness that is so sticky Buck will find traces of it clinging to him for the rest of the day.

“I love you too,” he replies, a little breathless. He hopes Eddie thinks it’s just from the kissing.

“I’m gonna take you home,” Eddie says, thumb a caress at the edge of Buck’s jaw. “And we’re gonna sleep for at least five hours. Probably more.” Buck smiles. “And then we can celebrate our anniversary, okay?”

“It’s not even a real anniversary,” Buck tries, not even really sure why he’s arguing. A more sensible person would just agree, and maybe remind their husband that they’re stopped in the middle of the road, so maybe they should put the car back in gear and hurry up with the getting home part of the plan? Any minute now some early morning commuter is probably going to come along and beep at them.

Eddie kisses him again, quicker and chaster than before, his lips gone before Buck can even try to chase them.

“It can be an anniversary if we want it to be,” he says, shrugging the kind of one-shouldered shrug that means he’s trying to seem unbothered when he’s actually feeling a lot of things, probably very deeply. Then he puts the car back in gear and checks both directions are clear before continuing to drive. It’s not fair, really, because it means Buck can’t work through the many, very deep feelings in his own chest by kissing Eddie stupid.

When we get home, he tells himself. But by the time they pull into the driveway, Buck is flagging.

They shower together—“it’ll be faster,” Eddie says, as if Buck doesn’t know it’s just so he can make sure Buck doesn’t pass out and crack open his skull on the tiles—and with the smell of the hospital gone and the bone-deep exhaustion amplified by the heat, Buck is half-asleep before he makes it into bed. He seriously considers not getting dressed at all, maybe not even drying off, just rolling under the covers and passing out (metaphorically, this time). But then Eddie is in front of him with a t-shirt and sleep shorts, a pair of party-themed dog socks tucked under his arm, and it’s just as easy to let him help.

“Bet you didn’t think we’d end up here,” Buck finds himself saying, watching Eddie roll the socks onto his feet. He could do it himself, but.

“No,” Eddie agrees, looking up at him. His smile is teasing when he adds, “Especially not those first few days.”

The embarrassment Buck used to feel looking back at that has been tempered by time and the life they have built together.

“I was a dick,” he says easily.

Eddie snorts. “You thought you were so tough.”

“Hey,” Buck protests, unable to fully bite back his own smile. “I am tough.”

“My tough firefighter husband.”

Only half teasing.

"Don’t worry, Eds," Buck tells him, “you’re my tough firefighter husband too.”

Eddie’s knees crack when he stands and they both laugh.

Eddie holds out a hand and Buck takes it, bracing himself before Eddie pulls him to his feet. He sways there a second, takes another second to figure out it’s because Eddie is pulling him in, not because of head rush, then he’s ducking his head down to Eddie’s shoulder while they hug. He likes hugging Eddie. He likes pretty much everything about Eddie, likes doing pretty much everything with him, but even before they started dating, Buck always liked the way Eddie hugged him. Liked the way it made him feel held.

“Good?” Eddie checks.

He’s not really asking anything, but he’s also asking everything, so Buck takes the time to squeeze him a little tighter before he answers, “Yeah, ‘m good.”

They separate just long enough to climb into bed, then Eddie wraps an arm around his waist and Buck melts back against him. Behind the blinds, the sky is probably just starting to lighten, alarm clocks starting to go off around the city, birds chirping, a thousand days starting while theirs finally ends. Buck closes his eyes, breathing slow and deep with the rise and fall of Eddie’s chest against his back.

“Wake me if you need me, okay?”

Buck wants to say that he won’t need him—he’s fine, really, the doctor said so and everything—but he just yawns and agrees with a half-garbled, “Uh huh.”

Eddie presses a kiss behind his ear. Or maybe Buck just imagines that he does. He can’t be sure whether he really hears the whispered, “love you,” either. It doesn’t really matter; they’re just words. He can feel all the branching, overlapping layers of Eddie’s love even without I love you.

It’s nice, though, hearing the words anyway.

Buck falls asleep wondering whether Bobby knew just how much he would change their lives when he asked Eddie to join the 118.

[winxanity-ii]

⌜Know No Evil | Chapter 23 Chapter 23 | honeyed intent⌟

╰ ⌞🇨‌🇭‌🇦‌🇵‌🇹‌🇪‌🇷‌ 🇮‌🇳‌🇩‌🇪‌🇽

❘ prev. chapter ❘༻✦༺❘ next chapter ❘

You craned your neck once again, squinting at the large scoreboard hovering above the stadium to see your position. 19th place.

The sting of your position was overturned by the measly point value—just 115. It didn't seem fair. Why such a large disparity?

Midnight's voice boomed across the stadium with instructions, snapping you from your thoughts. "Now, you've got five minutes to build your teams. I recommend you get started."

You glanced around, taking in the chaotic scene as students broke off into groups. Your eyes landed on Midoriya once more. His face still bore the shock of being worth ten million points.

A bitter chuckle escaped your lips. Yes, maybe the point system showcased a larger system at play—the truth, if you will.

In the grand scheme of professional heroes, only the number-one spot mattered. 42nd or 2nd place made no difference. Both paled in comparison to the singular brilliance of first place.

A position that demanded constant vigilance—for the number one hero was a target not just for villains, but even for other heroes drunk on ambition.

You stood off to the side, watching as everyone began breaking off into groups. The frantic energy in the air was palpable—a chaotic dance of alliances and strategies forming in real-time. Your eyes scanned the crowd, assessing the potential of each team.

You made eye contact with Bakugo, his intense gaze locking onto yours. He immediately began making his way over to you, his determined stride cutting through the crowd.

However, a few feet away from you, he was intercepted by a head of purple hair.

Shinso stepped in front of you, blocking Bakugo's path. "Oh?" You raised a brow at his bravery, curious about his intentions.

Bakugo, however, wasn't one for detours. He snarled, his crimson eyes flashing, and barged past Shinso with a rough shoulder shove. "Move it, Sleepy Bitch," he growled, "She's already in a team."

You hummed thoughtfully, taking a step forward and positioning yourself between the two boys. You turned to face Bakugo, raising a hand to tap the bottom of your lip as you tilted your head. "Oh, Bakugo," you drawled, your voice dripping with honeyed sweetness, "How kind of you to consider me for your team. But..." you paused, letting the silence stretch, "I don't remember you coming over to ask me...do you?"

Bakugo's features contorted in frustration. He looked away for a fleeting moment, a small scoff escaping his lips before he met your gaze again. "I know, but—"

"But nothing." You cut him off, taking a small step towards him. Your voice, normally smooth and alluring, sharpened to a steely edge. "It seems that I've been too relaxed with your behavior lately."

Bakugo's jaw tightened, his fiery determination clashing with your cool composure. "I just thought—"

You raised a finger to his lips, silencing him. "You thought wrong." You narrowed your eyes at him, making sure your words sunk in. "Don't forget that I'm merely here to spectate your performance. Try not to get sidetracked."

Midnight's voice boomed once again, echoing through the stadium. "Alright everyone! Time is ticking! You've got two minutes left to form your teams!"

The announcement served as a convenient interruption. You didn't miss a beat. "I suggest you run along and form an effective team if you wish to succeed in the next phase of the festival," you told Bakugo, your expression unreadable. With that, you turned away to face Shinso, wordlessly dismissing the blonde.

Bakugo stared at your form for a few seconds, fuming. Your words hung in the air, a challenge he couldn't ignore. His scowl deepened, eyes blazing with a renewed determination. He might not have gotten his way this time, but Bakugo Katsuki wasn't one to back down.

With clenched fists, he stomped off, mind already racing with strategies to form the best possible team to clear this next phase.

You watched him go out of the corner of your eye, noting the tension in his shoulders and the fire in his gaze. It was clear that Bakugo was more determined than ever to come out on top.

You then turn your attention to Shinso, who observed the entire exchange with a raised eyebrow. "You have quite the way with him, Akuma-san," he remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You simply hummed in response, your attention shifting back to the task at hand. "I suppose I do," you replied coolly, your eyes scanning the crowd for potential allies or threats. The remaining students around you were frantically forming teams, the countdown adding to the urgency in the air.

You then raised a questioning brow at Shinso. "What do I owe the pleasure, Shinso-kun? What can I do for you?"

"Actually, I interrupted Bakugo with the sole intention of pissing him off, but after witnessing your little...exchange," he trailed off, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips, "I thought you'd be a more interesting teammate for the Cavalry Battle."

You considered his offer for a moment before nodding. "Alright, I accept."

Shinso's eyes widened momentarily, a flicker of surprise crossing his features. "You...you do?" he stammered, clearly caught off guard.

"Why the look?" you chuckled, tilting your head playfully. "Didn't you come here to recruit me?"

Shinso fidgeted under your gaze. "Well, yes," he admitted, "but I didn't expect you to agree that fast."

A sharp laugh escaped your lips. "Oh, Shinso-kun," you teased, "If I didn't accept, what were you going to do? Use your quirk on me anyway?"

Shinso flushed a deeper shade of red, his gaze darting away from yours. "H-honestly," he mumbled, "that was the plan."

Another laugh bubbled up from your chest. "How diabolical of you~" you purred, your amusement evident. You started walking towards the center of the field, Shinso trailing close behind. "Now, I do believe we have less than a minute to find other teammates, yes?"

Shinso hummed thoughtfully. "To be honest," he started, a hint of confidence in his voice that you hadn't heard before, "seeing that I've gotten you, I don't think we need anyone else."

You glanced at him out of the corner of your eye, a playful glint in your gaze. "How sweet," you murmured.

Just then, Midnight's voice boomed once more, cutting through the pre-battle tension. "Alright everyone! Time's up! Let the Cavalry Battle begin!"

The whistle blew, signaling the start of the Cavalry Battle. You wasted no time, launching yourself onto Shinso's broad shoulders. From your vantage point, you had a clear view of the battlefield, the chaos unfolding like a twisted ballet. With his Quirk, Shinso quickly took control of a smaller group, using them as diversions and blockers.

Meanwhile, you weaved your own brand of magic. With a flick of your wrist or a subtle shift in weight, you'd send unsuspecting participants tumbling to the ground, momentarily disoriented and vulnerable. This allowed Shinso to snatch their headbands with practiced ease, his movements almost surgical in their precision.

The frantic commentary of Present Mic filled the air as the battle raged. You recognized snippets of the chaos unfolding—Midoriya's team desperately evading capture, Bakugo's explosive dominance, and the unexpected strategy employed by Class B.

"[Wow! Barely two minutes have passed since we started, and it's already a total free-for-all! Yeah! Watch those headbands!]"

The battle was a whirlwind of movement and noise, a constant test of reflexes and cunning. You and Shinso worked in perfect cohesion, a silent understanding passing between you. You were both here to win, and the methods employed were secondary concerns.

The battlefield shifted as teams formed and dissolved, allegiances forged and broken in mere seconds. The ten-million-point headband on Midoriya's head became a beacon, drawing hungry competitors like moths to a flame.

Just as you were about to snag another unsuspecting headband, the large video screen above the stadium flickered to life. The current standings flashed across the screen, revealing a surprising twist: Team Todoroki successfully managed to swipe the headband from Team Midoriya, rocketing them up the rankings.

The crowd erupted in cheers, and Present Mic's voice boomed, "[Only one minute left! And this entire game was just turned completely on its head! Todoroki's team has the ten million points, and Midoriya's team is suddenly left with nothing at all!]"

Shinso let out a low whistle beside you. "Looks like things just got interesting," he murmured, a hint of amusement in his voice.

You watched, perched on Shinso's shoulders, as Midoriya's team desperately tried to stay ahead of Todoroki's icy grasp. Iida's surprise attack, fueled by his secret move, managed to temporarily halt Midoriya's advance, but at the cost of his own mobility. The momentum shifted once again, with Todoroki's team securing the ten-million point headband, leaving Midoriya's team with nothing.

The clock ticked down, marking the halfway point of the competition. The air crackled with nervous anticipation as everyone realized—the true test was yet to come. The team holding the ten-million-point headband at the final whistle would be crowned victor.

"[With time almost up, Team Todoroki is in first place with four headbands. Despite their best efforts, Team Midoriya has fallen to the bottom! Will these be the top four teams that move on to the next round?"]"

You, however, weren't finished yet. You spotted an opportunity as the chaos intensified. Bakugo, fueled by his competitive spirit, launched himself at Todoroki's team, determined to steal back the headbands. You saw your chance—a distraction.

As Bakugo zeroed in on his target, you subtly shifted your focus, manipulating the air around him. He stumbled slightly, momentarily thrown off balance. It was just the opening you needed. With a practiced flick of your wrist, you snatched two headbands from the pile, a smirk playing on your lips.

The buzzer blared, signaling the end of the grueling battle.

"[Time's up!]" Present Mic shouted, "[And with that, the second round is officially over!]"

You hopped down from Shinso's shoulders, both of you catching your breath.

"[Now, let's take a look at who our top four teams are! In first place, Team Todoroki! In second place, Team Bakugo! In third place is Tetsutetsu—Wait, what? It's Team Shinso? When did they come back from the dead? And in fourth place is Team Midoriya! These four valiant teams will advance on to the final round!]"

You watch as Midoriya falls to his knees in relief.

Despite the unexpected twist, you'd managed to secure a decent amount of points, landing your team in fourth place—just enough to qualify for the next round.

"[Now, let's take an hour lunch break before we start the afternoon festivities! See ya soon!]"

☆

☆

The hour-long lunch break provided a brief respite from the intense competition. You navigated the crowded pseudo-cafeteria, grabbing a small meal and finding a quiet corner to eat. Just as you were finishing your lunch, your phone buzzed. It was your mother.

Stepping out into the hallway, you found a small private area and answered the call. "Hello, Mother," you greeted, keeping your voice neutral.

"Y/N, sweetie!" your mother voice was chocked as she sobbed into the phone, her voice trembling with emotion. "I'm so proud of you! You've done so well! My baby girl, I knew you could do it!"

You sighed inwardly as the tears and praise continued for five minutes straight. Mei's emotional outbursts were nothing new, but they were always exhausting. "Thank you, Mother," you said gently, trying to calm her. "I appreciate it. I need to go now, though. The next event will start soon."

After ending the call, you began making your way back to the waiting area. The hallways were quieter now, students either resting or mentally preparing for the next round. As you turned a corner, you were suddenly stopped by Shinso.

"Hey, Akuma-san," he greeted, his eyes scanning your face with a hint of concern. "Are you okay?"

A bit confused, you tilted your head. "Yes, why wouldn't I be—?"

Your mind suddenly went blank, a fog settling over your thoughts. In this state, you see Shinso step closer, letting out a harsh breath and tugging on his hair in frustration.

"1-B's obsession with you... it's maddening," he began, his voice low and edged with bitterness. "They always sing your praises. Every single day, it's 'Akuma-san this, Akuma-san that.' You're all they talk about—all they think about. It's like you've cast some sort of spell over them. 

He let out a humorless laugh, shaking his head. "And don't get me started on Bakugo..." he let out a scoff, "he's like your personal guard dog. Always hovering, snarling at anyone who even looks at you for too long, ensuring no one gets too close or has a place in your mind. It's like he—"

He cut himself off abruptly, clenching his jaw. You found yourself strangely captivated by his outburst, the fog in your mind momentarily thinning.

"It's like you're some kind of trophy he needs to keep everyone else away from. It's infuriating."

He paused, his gaze flickering across the hallway, before returning to you. "Before we met, when it was just rumors and whispers, I thought you were someone I'd have to put in their place. Someone overrated, someone I could outshine." Shinso stepped even closer, invading your personal space, eyes dark and intense. "But then I saw you in action, and I realized it wasn't just hype. You're... more. And it's driving me crazy," he finished with a bitter edge, his frustration turning into something akin to... obsession?

"What is it about you?" he murmured, his voice rough with something akin to hunger. "What is it that draws everyone to you; that makes them obsess over you? Everyone seems to... gravitate towards you. Like you have some kind of invisible pull, a force that makes everyone else around you seem... dull. Less. Like their very presence is dimmed when you're around. I see it with 1-B, with Bakugo, even with the way 1-A looks at you. It's like you're some sort of... magnetic force that they can't resist."

His hand reached up to cup your face, his thumb gently caressing your cheek, a silent question lingering in his touch. "And here I am, going crazy, trying to figure it out. Trying to understand what it is about you that makes everyone—including me—so captivated. What is it that makes everyone lose themselves a little bit around you? Makes their entire world shrink to fit you in the center?"

You blinked slowly, eyes locking onto his with an intensity that startled him. "Funny. I seem to ask myself that very question every day," you replied, your voice calm and measured.

Shinso recoiled as if struck, his hand dropping away from your face. You tilted your head slightly, a sly smile playing on your lips. "What's wrong, Shinso-kun?" you purred, the playful use of his full name sending a jolt through him. "Shocked? If anything, that should be my reaction. You did, after all, use your Quirk on me against my will, no?"

Shinso stammered, his carefully constructed facade momentarily crumbling. "H-how did you—" he began, but then stopped, shaking his head as if to clear it. He cleared his throat, forcing himself to appear composed. "That's... that's not how how my quirk works," he explained, his voice tight. "Brainwashing. When it's in use, the person lacks awareness of what's being done while under its influence. When they... they wake up from it, they're confused. Y-you're not supposed to be this coherent."

You let out a soft chuckle, the sound like wind chimes in the tense air. You covered your mouth with one hand, the amusement evident in your eyes. "How cute," you murmured, the words dripping with a subtle mockery that sent shivers down Shinso's spine.

Just then, your phone buzzed in your pocket. It was a text from Ashido.

𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐘-𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐊 Hey, Akuma-san. I don't really mean to be a bother but, can you please, please, please come ASAP? I need your help with something!

You pocketed the device, turning your attention back to Shinso. "It's a pity our conversation will be cut short," you said, your voice light and almost teasing.

Without waiting for a response, you turned to leave, waving weakly over your shoulder. "Until next time, Shinsoi-kun."

Shinso watched you walk away, his thoughts a tangled mess of frustration and fascination. The encounter left him more intrigued—and confused—than ever. He couldn't resist. Unable to stop himself, he found himself calling your name. "Akuma-san!"

You paused mid-step, turning your head slightly to acknowledge him. "Yes, Shinso-kun?"

He cleared his throat, looking off to the side. His voice came out low and hesitant. "Can I... Can I ask you a question?"

You turned to face him fully, your expression one of mild curiosity. "Of course, ask away."

Shinso cleared his throat, forcing himself to meet your gaze. He looked away briefly, then back, his voice dropping to a low murmur. "How do you deal with..." he hesitated, searching for the right words, "having a...'villainous' quirk?"

You blinked, a look of feigned confusion plastered across your face. "Villainous?" you echoed, tilting your head cutely. "I'm not sure what you mean by 'villainous quirk'."

Shinso rolled his eyes, a hint of exasperation creeping into his voice. He let out a frustrated sigh. "You know what I mean," he said, his voice clipped. "Controlling people. Like me." He quickly added, "Your quirk is obviously something more than those dumb strings, and before you even try denying it, I remember the incident with the bullies in the halls."

Your eyes narrowed at his words. A prickle of unease ran down your spine, the hairs on the back of your neck standing on end. The realization hit you—someone had been watching. Observing you. Even then, a small, begrudging pinch of interest wormed its way through the unease. "Hm, you've been observing me closely, haven't you?" you remarked, your voice carrying a hint of danger.

Shinso, catching the shift in the atmosphere, stammered, "Look, I'm not trying to accuse you of anything. It's just...well, a mind control quirk isn't exactly hero material, is it?"

"I see," you said slowly, considering your response. "It's not about how I deal with it, Shinso-kun. It's about understanding it and using it to my advantage. Just like how you use your quirk."

He looked at you, a mix of skepticism and curiosity in his eyes. "But doesn't it bother you? Knowing what you can do to people?"

You smiled, a hint of something dark lurking behind your eyes. "Bother me? No. It empowers me. Knowing what I can do, what I can control, it gives me an edge. It's not about right or wrong, Shinso-kun. It's about control and how you choose to wield it."

Shinso took a step back, processing your words. The depth of your understanding and acceptance of your quirk left him both unsettled and intrigued. He realized then that there was much more to you than met the eye.

"But...But don't you worry about what others think? How they'll judge you?"

You shrugged, a sly smile tugging at your lips. "People will always judge. It's human nature. What matters is how you perceive yourself and how you use your abilities. As long as you have control, no one can dictate who you are or what you become." you said, then quickly added, "And to answer your earlier question: no, I'm unsure about what you mean by dealing with a 'villainous' quirk. Aren't all quirks, in a way, villainous?"

"Think about it," you continued, ticking points off on your fingers. "Even the most seemingly harmless quirk can be used for bad. Water? Great for fighting off fires and droughts, sure, but also perfect for drowning people. Telekinesis? Useful for moving items, but terrifying if used to turn everyday, harmless items into dangerous projectiles. Super strength? Anyone's dream, but also a potential tool for bone-crushing innocents with a single touch."

You finished with a pointed look, "Just because I can seemingly control the actions of others doesn't make it any worse than someone who can snap you out of existence. At least when I'm finished, the person has a better chance of being left alive, no?"

Shinso's jaw clenched slightly, processing your words. You weren't denying your quirk's potential for manipulation, but you were reframing it, highlighting the duality of all quirks and the importance of intent.

You cast a final glance to the male. "Think about it, Shinso-kun," you said, a hint of a challenge in your voice. Without waiting for a response, you turned and began walking away, leaving him standing there speechless.

☆

☆

The sterile white of the locker room contrasted sharply with the vibrant orange and green of the cheerleading outfit Ashido dangled in front of you. You'd arrived just in time to witness the remaining 1-A girls slipping into the uniform, their excited chatter filling the air.

But as Ashido thrust the two pieces of fabric towards you, a resolute "No," escaped your lips. The playful smile vanished from her face, replaced by a pleading expression.

"Please, Akuma-san! I'm beginning you!" she whined, her voice tinged with desperation. She immedaitely doove into a long-winded explanation, explaining how Mineta and Kaminari approached them minutes ago with supposed instructions from Aizawa for them to do this to lift everyone's spirits up at the festival, and how there's an uneven number of girls to do it and how she didn't know who else she could call on.

You raised an eyebrow once she finished, your gaze flickering from Ashido's hopeful eyes to the costume. A beat of silence hung in the air before Ashido mumbled, scratching the side of her face, "It does sound kinda whoosy now that I'm saying it out loud, huh?"

A hint of amusement flickered across your features as you watched realization dawn on her. Your eyes drifted back to the discarded outfit lying on the floor, the bright orange and green a stark contrast to the monochrome of your usual attire.

The longer you looked at the horrendous attire, the less it was funny and the more you were dead sure you wouldn't be putting it anywhere near you. There was literally nothing in this world that could get you to agree to such shameless, objectifying...

"Um, what if we get Sato to bake you a strawberry cake? Ribbit?"

Your mind went momentarily blank before your eyes immediately zoomed in on Tsuyu. You couldn't help but ask the amphibian-like girl, "Why the offer? And specifically why that?"

Tsuyu stammered slightly, her cheeks puffing out in a blush. "W-well," she began, "Midoriya was rambling about his time in junior high one time, and he mentioned a memory... something about you and a strawberry cake?"

A sigh, almost a growl, escaped your lips. You knew exactly what she was talking about.

Grade 8—your 2nd year of middle school.

🇫‌🇱‌🇦‌🇸‌🇭‌🇧‌🇦‌🇨‌🇰‌:

It was the day after your birthday. Not that anyone knew it was your birthday, of course. You'd much rather have it be a regular school day—no unwanted attention, and you were content to keep it that way. But as usual, birthdays at home were a different story: elaborate decorations, tons of food and presents, a delicious cake—and the company of your mother (and a begrudging appearance from your father). Shisuki, Hiro, and Yumi were invited too, considered honorary family friends, but even they couldn't avoid the family's expert dodging of the actual birthday.

The next day, you were sitting in class during break when the classroom door burst open. In swaggered Bakugo, lackies trailing behind him as usual. This time, though, he detoured to your desk, dropping off a small, brown box. Bakugo had dropped it off without a word, his usual scowl in place, and swaggered away as quickly as he had come in. It wasn't the usual snacks he'd sometimes toss your way. 

This one smelled overtly sweet.

You'd looked at it curiously before cautiously peeking inside.

When you opened it, there was a small birthday cupcake—strawberry flavored. The cupcake was beautifully decorated with pink icing swirled into a perfect peak, topped with a dollop of whipped cream. A fresh, ripe strawberry sat proudly on top, its vibrant red color contrasting against the soft pink icing. The delicate fragrance of strawberries and vanilla wafted up from the cupcake, filling your senses with a sweet, inviting aroma.

As always, you just arched a brow, staring up at Bakugo in question. Instead of scoffing and walking off as usual, the blond just stared you straight in the eye, hands stuffed in his pockets.

"Instead, he met your gaze directly, hands shoved nonchalantly in his pockets. "Happy belated birthday, ____," he gruffed, barely audible but clear enough for you to hear. He turned on his heel and swaggered off, leaving a stunned silence in his wake.

It took seconds for his words to click with the remaining students. Gasps filled the space.

"It was Akuma-san's birthday?" "Oh my god, why didn't anyone say anything?" "You think she'll invite me if she has a party?"

You ignored it all, eyes stuck on the pink cupcake sitting before you. Reaching down, you plucked the fresh strawberry decorating the top, plopping it into your mouth.

Later that day, when you arrived home, the half-eaten cupcake still in the box in your hand, your mother immediately broke down in tears. "Oh, ____!" she cried, rushing to you with outstretched arms. She wrapped you in a tight hug, her tears soaking your shoulder. "The person I cried to the other day must've been an angel!"

Knowing any attempt at personal space would be futile in this situation, while she was in one of these moods, you allowed Mei to wrap her arms around you.

"What are you talking about, Mother?" you sighed, wondering what random event had triggered this emotional outburst.

She was indeed quick to give you the run down of her issue.

Apparently, Mei was so distraught about no one showing up for your birthday party that she bawled while grocery shopping later that night and ended up emotionally dumping and confiding in a kind man she encountered.

She described him to you: short brown hair, mussed and unkempt; a short mustache adorned his upper lip; and rectangular glasses perched on his nose, their lenses reflecting the dying sunlight. He had given her the name Masaru.

It didn't take long for you to connect the dots, having seen the very man come to the school to drop Bakugo's lunch off whenever the blond forgot it, or gave you his when you forgot your own.

Your mother revealed what she was crying about and how she made your favorite cake, strawberry, and still, no one showed up to enjoy it with you; how she felt like a terrible mother, convinced she had failed you.

Masaru had patiently listened and then helped your mother feel better by telling her, "At the end of the day, I'm sure your daughter is more happy that she had those who actually care and adore her around to celebrate such a special day instead of catering to individuals who probably don't even know her favorite color." Something that managed to somewhat comfort her.

Breaking out of your thoughts, you stared down at the outfit one more time. You didn't even like strawberry cake—heck, sweets in general that much—but the way your fingers were fighting relayed a different message.

Letting out a deep sigh, you finally gave in. "Fine... hand it over," you muttered.

Mina's eyes lit up, and she quickly handed the outfit to you. "Thank you, Akuma-san! You have no idea how much this means to us!"

As you took the outfit, you couldn't help but think about the strange series of events that had led you to this moment. The cheerleading outfit was bright and garish, a far cry from your usual attire. But as you began to change, you steeled yourself for the upcoming performance, knowing that you could handle whatever came your way.

.☆.                  .✩.                                   .☆.

"[Good news for everyone who didn't make the finals! Since this is a sports festival, we've prepared some super-fun side games everyone can participate in! We even brought in cheerleaders from America to get your blood pumping!]" As Present Mic's voice boomed across the stadium, all eyes turned to the group of cheerleaders now gathering on the field.

Among them was you, dressed in the eye-catching cheerleading outfit Ashido had begged you to wear.

The fit hugged your curves in a way that left little to the imagination: basically a crop top at this point, the top showcased your waist and the softness of your figure. Meanwhile the skirt was short, ending at your upper mid-thigh, showing off your toned legs.

It was honestly more revealing than anything you'd normally wear, making you feel both exposed and powerful.

Aizawa-sensei's irritated voice cut through the excitement. "[Ah—Hold up. What are they doing?]"

"[Oh-ho! Looks like Class-A is goin' full-on fanservice!]" 

Bakugo's face turned beet red as he spotted you among the cheerleaders. "What the—AKUMA?!" he shouted, his voice laced with a mixture of shock and something else he couldn't quite place. His eyes betrayed him, drinking in the sight of you before he could stop himself. The way the cheerleading outfit clung to your body, highlighting every curve and contour, made it impossible for him to look away.

"[And look! Even a student from Class 1-B has joined in on the fun! Talk about school spirit!]" Present Mic continued, drawing even more attention to you.

Kirishima, standing next to Bakugo, let out a startled squeak. Before anyone could react, he slammed a hand over his eyes, his entire face turning the same shade of crimson as his hair as he looked away. "A-Akuma-san is, uh, looks great cheering us on, s-so manly," he stammered, fighting to not take another glimpse through his fingers.

Meanwhile, Mineta and Kaminari were an entire different story. Their eyes practically bulged out of their heads, their jaws slack as they ogled over you all.

"Ochaco-chan looks so cute in that outfit!" Mineta exclaimed, a perverted grin plastered on his face.

"Yeah, but have you seen Akuma-san?" Kaminari interrupted, his voice laced with awe. "She's so...so...ethereal!" Drool dripped down his chin as his eyes practically transformed into hearts.

Monoma, watching the scene unfold from the stands, let out a series of high-pitched shrieks. "Nooo! 1-A...! They got ahold of our Precious President! Destroy anyone that looks lewdly at her!" he bellowed to the other Class 1-B students, who hurridly agreed.

"Yeah! Akuma-san isn't just a piece of meat!"

"They don't deserve to breathe the same air as her, let alone see her!"

"Rip their eyes from the sockets!"

Even then, no one was more shocked than Bakugo. In his eyes, you were a vision that both infuriated and captivated him. The green and orange contrasted beautifully with your brown skin, and your red, curly hair framed your face perfectly. The crop top accentuated your bust, making it clear just how busty you were. His eyes traveled down to your waist, noting the way the fabric hugged you there, and then to your legs, which were on full display.

By the time Bakugo finished taking in the sight and looked back up at you, you were already staring at him. Your head tilted slightly, and a slow, cat-like smile spread across your lips. The predatory glint in your eyes made his heart race, and he could feel the heat rising to his face once more.

Cursing under his breath before looking away, the blonde swore that you would be the death of him.

"[Have fun competing in these little side games, everyone! After they're over, the students from the top four teams will be duking it out one-on-one in a tournament-style fighting competition! I promise you're not gonna wanna miss these epic match ups!]"

A/N: ok, first i wanna start off by apologizing for updating a little late. literally just got finished with 2-in a row double-shift these past days, and i'm tiiiirreeed. still i just had to update cuz i like writing it a lot, it helps reduce stress. also, i've been getting bombarded with many comments/messages asking for updates as well as critiquing whats been written so far. 1) lololol i kinda feel like a top-selling author because critiques??? it's giving famous. 2) i only TRY to update every 5-6 days, not that it's set in stone. i dont wanna rush things and also, i dont wanna delivery you guys half-assed chapters. so if you see the days increasing, just expect a 4k worded+ chapter as a sorry. but fr, if you don't like or this don't meet your expectations, please just click off, no need to be harsh with the 'constructive criticism' cuz depending on what day i see it, i might cuss you out or be mean asf back. i'm trynna change from being childish, y'all... ❤️❤️ see you guys soon.

~𝐄𝐱𝐭𝐫𝐚~ Masaru arrived home to the sound of his wife's voice coming from upstairs. "If I don't have those designs on my desk first thing in the morning, I swear to the gods above, you'll be cleaning the entire offices' bathroom with a toothbrush for a month!"

Bakugo was seated in the living room, television running on mute as he finished up his homework. The young blonde looked up at the sound of the door opening, prompting Masaru to send his son a bright smile. "Hi, Katsuki, how was school?" 

Bakugo's response was just noncommittal grunt before going back to what he was doing. Masaru sighed, the sound barely audible over the thundering voice of Mitsuki upstairs. He shuffled into the kitchen, unloading the groceries. He set aside a few ingredients for dinner before immediately diving into his work.

The aroma of a delicious meal soon filled the air, a welcome change from the usual take-out fare. The family of three sat down for dinner, the conversation flowing easily between Masaru and Mitsuki. Bakugo, on the other hand, remained silent, his brow furrowed as he scowled at his plate of food.

"So, anything interesting happen at work today, honey?" Mitsuki asked, taking a bite of her food.

Masaru blinked thoughtfully. "Well, now that you mention it, something did happen while I was grocery shopping..." His voice trailed off as he recalled the encounter.

"Wow, that sounded tough," Mitsuki empathized, understanding the feeling parental-failure can cause.

"Yeah, it really is," Masaru sighed, recalling the woman's defeated expression. "And what's even sadder is that her daughter apparently attends the same school as Katsuki. It's a shame. Eventually, I tried comforting her, saying how her that what matters most is that the people who truly care were there to celebrate."

Mitsuki nodded approvingly. "Aww, Masaru, don't make me cry. Are you sure she attends Aldera? They're supposed to have a real tight-knit schooling community."

Bakugo's attention, previously focused on his food, shifted subtly to his father, his scowl momentarily replaced with curiosity at the sound of his school's name.

"I'm sure. She's in Grade 8 as well. Her name is Akuma ____. A really bright young girl, her mother says."

The mention of your name made Bakugo pause. His mind replayed his father's story, fueled by a strange mix of irritation and...something else. Today was...your birthday? Your birthday had been completely off his radar, but truthfully, it's not his fault; heck, you never even mentioned the day! 

Still, he couldn't shake the feeling that he needed to do something. He stood up abruptly, his chair scraping against the floor. "I'm going to my room," he muttered, leaving his half-eaten plate and heading upstairs without another word.

That night, after his parents had retreated to bed and the house was filled with the quiet hum of the refrigerator, Bakugo stormed into the kitchen, his usual fiery demeanor replaced by a determined glint in his eyes.

He rummaged through the cabinets, pulling out flour, sugar, and eggs. He glanced at the recipe book his father always used, a hesitant frown creasing his face. Grumbling under his breath, he flipped through the pages, searching for something specific.

Cupcakes.

Hours later, the kitchen resembled a warzone, flour dusting every surface and a burnt, misshapen cupcake cooling on the counter. Bakugo, covered head to toe in flour and frustration, stared at his creation with disgust.

It tasted like a literal disaster, burnt beyond recognition and with a texture akin to chewing on a brick.

There was no way he could give something like this to you.

Defeated but unwilling to give up, Bakugo spent the remaining hours before sunrise cleaning the kitchen and hiding the evidence of his culinary catastrophe.

He set an alarm extra early to ensure he'd have enough time to stop by a bakery and purchase you a sweet treat that's worthy of your approval.

As Bakugo laid in bed that night, he couldn't help but think about you. The image of you smiling, genuinely happy with something he'd made, was a goal he silently vowed to achieve.

Your presence had a way of pushing him to be better—to strive for more. And that, above all, was why he couldn't let anyone else get too close to you.

You were his motivation, his inspiration, and he wasn't about to let that slip away.

[olis-inkwell-symposium]

Unapologetically Messy: The Process Behind a Creative Mind

Some words of encourage I had to write out during my lunch break at work today; for my fellow writers 🫶🏾

Let’s not pretend that writing is some serene, candle-lit experience where the words just flow effortlessly. It’s not. Writing is messy.

Frustrating at the very best times. To continue with more: chaotic, it’s unpredictable, and if we’re being honest, mine is mostly fueled by insomnia and last-minute panic.

Forget the cheesy Instagram-worthy images of perfect notebooks and tranquil mornings with a laptop by the window—that’s the fantasy.

The reality is far more complex and unapologetically messy.

Creativity Doesn’t Follow Rules

We like to think there’s a formula for creativity. Sit down at a certain time, write for a certain number of hours, and voilà, you’ve got yourself a novel. But creativity doesn’t follow rules, and it definitely doesn’t give a damn about your carefully planned schedule.

One of the most freeing realizations for any creative is understanding that the process isn’t supposed to be linear. It’s not a straight path from point A to point B. It’s more like a series of tangled threads, with detours, dead ends, and plenty of wrong turns. And that’s okay. In fact, that’s where the real magic happens.

The best ideas often come when you least expect them—during a 3 a.m. insomnia-fueled brainstorming session, or while you’re out doing something completely unrelated to writing.

You can’t force creativity into a neat little box. It’s messy by nature, and the more you lean into that, the more you’ll realize that the chaos is part of what makes it all work.

The Ugly Side of Writing

Let’s talk about the ugly parts of writing that no one likes to admit. The moments when you reread your draft and wonder who the hell wrote it because it sure doesn’t sound like the brilliant idea you had in your head.

Or the days when you spend hours editing a single paragraph, only to decide it’s still not good enough. Writing is hard—and sometimes it feels downright impossible…

But those ugly moments? They’re part of the process. No writer escapes them.

We all have drafts that make us cringe, scenes that feel flat, or characters who refuse to behave the way we envisioned them. The key is to keep going, even when it feels like everything is falling apart.

You don’t get to the good stuff without wading through the muck first. The messy, imperfect draft is the foundation on which you’ll build something better.

So, embrace it. Embrace the chaos, the frustration, and the uncertainty, because that’s what writing is really about—working through the mess to find the magic on the other side.

The Pressure of Perfectionism

Perfectionism is my unique creativity killer. It’s that voice in your head that says, “This isn’t good enough,” or “You’ll never get this right.” My personal favorite that I repeat to myself all the time, “Who’s gonna even care enough to read all of this?”

It’s the reason so many writers stare at the blank page for hours, paralyzed by the fear of writing something that isn’t perfect. One of the things that sabotages me to this day, I’d rather write these words of encouragement vs. tackling my wips… But here’s the truth: your first draft doesn’t have to be perfect. It will never be perfect! I had to learn to just let my ideas pour out of me in whatever fashion necessary.

Taking a break and coming back to read it over again it’s easier for me to refine and organize my ideas into one cohesive plot.

The whole point of a first draft is to get the ideas down, to lay the groundwork. It’s going to be messy. It’s going to have plot holes, awkward sentences, and scenes that don’t quite work. That’s normal. That’s what a first draft is supposed to be.

The real work happens in the revision process, when you can take that messy draft and start shaping it into something better. But you can’t revise a blank page. You have to be willing to let yourself write badly, to make mistakes, and to trust that the process will lead you to where you need to go.

Finding Your Flow in the Chaos

For a lot of writers, for me personally anyway, there’s this constant push and pull between wanting structure and needing freedom.

We want the discipline to sit down and write every day, but we also crave the space to let our ideas flow naturally. Finding a balance between the two is tricky, and honestly, it’s different for everyone.

Some days, structure is what saves you. You sit down at the same time, with the same routine, and it works.

Other days, you need to follow the chaos, write when the mood strikes, and let the process be as unpredictable as it wants to be. Neither way is wrong—it’s about finding what works for you in the moment.

The key is to let go of the pressure to have it all figured out. Your process doesn’t have to look like anyone else’s. It doesn’t even have to look the same every day. What matters is that you keep showing up, keep writing, and keep trusting that the mess is part of the journey.

Embrace the Mess

So, here’s the takeaway: the creative process is messy. It’s full of ups and downs, false starts, and moments of self-doubt. But it’s also full of discovery, unexpected breakthroughs, and moments of pure magic.

The mess isn’t something to be ashamed of—it’s something to embrace.

You don’t have to have it all figured out. You don’t have to follow a strict routine, or write neatly within the lines.

Let the process be what it is—unpredictable, chaotic, and unapologetically messy. Because that’s where the real creativity lives.

oli’s symposium taglist 🫵🏾 you know you wanna join. let me know!

@slenders1ckn3ss @lucistarsfire @mai2themai @fond-illusion @p00lverinecentral

[testingthewatersss]

I never lost him Trigger warnings for PTSD, mentions of war, torture,  etc. Just unapologetic cuddling and comfort ft. Steve Rodgers. Bucky Barnes x F Reader Chapter 7 3890 words fluff, angst, comfort. 18+ MDNI Post TWS Steve realises that he's not the only one looking for Sargent Barnes. Reader is Tony’s sister, a non-enhanced shield agent who recently resurfaced.

Y/N is still laughing when they reach the bathroom, and they’re both grinning by the time they’ve finished washing up.

Despite Bucky’s poor attempt at denial, she catches the way he lingers under the pressurised spray of water, and makes a mental note to get it upgraded to one that is more customisable.

She mentions the idea to him in the bedroom and he scoffs, telling him that even if she’d given him a hundred years he’d have never thought about making a customisable shower head. She laughs and says that there must be some kind of stupid thing that he’s always wanted.

‘I can’t think of anythin’ like that’ he tells her

When she asks him for his top ten favourite luxuries in general he rolls his eyes, towel wrapped around his waist and replies that he’s looking at them right now.

“I’m not a luxury, Barnes” she mock scolds, turning to grab herself some clean clothes from her dresser, “and I’m serious— if you could invent any 10, ridiculous, unnecessary, frivolous things, what would they be?”

“Oh, god, doll— I don’t know.”

She just laughs again, and gestures towards the clothes she’d laid out for him earlier.

“Well, why don’t you ponder it for awhile and let me know when you have some ideas.”

He scoffs, and dresses himself without further rebuttal, only pausing to relish in the way that it feels to have soft, clean clothes to put on for a change.

The socks nearly make him cry again, but instead, he finds himself tugging at his dog tag and waiting longingly for Y/N to turn back towards him.

It isn’t a long wait.

She’s ready in no time, spinning on her heals to beam at him, as she reaches out to hold his hand.

As the pair walk back out towards the living-room, Bucky makes a detour to the wicker basket, grabbing the same blue quilt he’d been fussing with earlier before leading Y/N back to the couch.

They curl up together, and when his head settles neatly into the curve of her chest, he realises that it feels strangely like he’s taking his first real breath of the day.

“Wanna watch some TV?” Y/N offers, “Maybe take a nap before lunch?”

He makes a soft noise of consideration, snuggling down impossibly further into her front.

This is his favourite way to sleep.

Between her thighs, with her arms around him, with his whole body pressed against hers.

“What do you feel like eatin’, doll?”

His voice is tired. She thinks that he’ll probably doze off before long, regardless of her answer.

“I’m not sure” she replies honestly, “haven’t really thought about it, how about you?”

“I’ll have whatever you’re havin” he mumbles, pressing a lazy kiss against her arm, “Do we have anythin’ here?”

“Sure we do” she replies, “I normally use the main kitchen, y’know, downstairs, but we have some bits knockin’ around.”

“Or…” he begins, “we could always ask Steve to pick us somethin’ up?”

That takes her by surprise. Genuine surprise, that makes her blink down at him dumbly for a moment as she wonders if she’s misheard him.

“We could” she allows after a beat, “but then he’ll want to bring it.”

“We were goin’ to let him see me today” Bucky reminds her, “and I… I figured this way it… it might be less awkward than him just bein’ told to come by and wave.”

“Alright” she chuckles, “Fair point, but it’s up to you, sweetheart— this whole thing with Rodgers, it's all you.”

He nods, brow furrowing in thought

“If you called him now do you think he would answer?”

“If I call him?” she says with a scoff, “yeah, Buck I think he would.”

He nods again.

“It’s one” she notes, “If I spoke to him now and asked him to swing by a bodega or somethin’ on his way back you’d have time to nap or change your mind before he gets here.”

“Okay” he agrees, “and if I do— If I do change my mind, then-”

“Then I suppose I could meet him at the door, tell him you’ve passed out on the bed and ask him to come back later.”

“You’d do that?”

“Sure I would” she says, “but, this is all hypothetical, because we don’t have to ask him to bring us anything, we could always just order a delivery if you want take out that badly.”

His eyes roll just before he buries his face back against her chest.

“Can you call him, doll?” he asks quietly, “I think this is goin’ to be the way that gets me the least worked up.”

“Okay” she allows, “What shall I ask him to grab?”

“Whatever you want, doll”

That’s clearly one decision too many. She can feel the tension creeping back into his shoulders, so, she nods quickly, pressing a kiss against his brow.

“There’s a nice deli not far from where he is, you still like cheese-steaks?”

He nods silently, tightening his arms around her waist as she asks FRIDAY to make the call.

“Do you want me to take it on my cell?” she offers, “Or is speaker alright.”

“Speakers fine” he murmurs, “I’m goin’ to see him soon, no point hidin’ from his voice.”

Y/N scoffs at that, stroking a gentle circle across his back as she waits for the other man to connect.

“Hello?” Steve says, anxiety clear in his tone, “Y/N, are you okay?”

Bucky can’t help but smile as the woman he’s laying on chuckles.

“Sure I am, Steve” she replies, ever calm, “I’m fine, just wonderin’ if you could do me a favour whilst you’re out.”

“Anything-” he bursts, eager to accept, “Whatever you need.”

Bucky mouths an almost inaudible ‘Jesus Christ’ at the man’s desire to please her, and she rewards him with a smile and a playful swat against his hip.

“Can” she begins, swallowing laughter as he nestles down, kissing any part of body that he can reach, “Can you just, stop by the deli on 25th? grab a couple of the cheese-steaks.”

The silence on the other end of the line is telling. It lasts a fraction too long to be natural and Bucky can’t help but push himself up a little so that she can see the quirk in his brow.

Y/N’s hand is against his cheek before he can get too nervous about having over-stepped with his request. He’s still keening out towards her fingers when Steve finally clears his throat;

“I— Sure I can, are… where, where do you want me to bring them?”

“To my room?” she replies, “I’m back at the tower now, didn’t think about making a pit stop on the way”

“You’re home?” he asks quickly, “Are… are you alone?”

She meets Bucky’s eyes for a moment, genuinely curious about whether or not he’s going to speak. He gives her a small smile, before looking away, and that’s when she’s sure that he’s not.

“No” she admits, “Not, right now.”

The laugh Steve gives her is breathless, it’s so genuinely elated that Barnes is blushing when he hears it.

“So, he— is- is Bucky, is he there?”

“Steve” she warns, “Remember our little talk about patience?”

“Yeah” he says lightly, “Yeah, I do— but, but when I bring them back can— can I say hi?”

“—that depends—” Bucky’s tired voice inserts, “—are you goin’ to start bawlin’ or somethin’—”

Y/N is stunned. Truly, utterly, stunned.

and if the choked sound Steve makes is anything to go by, so is he.

“Bucky?” he asks after a moment, “Buck is it—”

“You know it is” he replies, confidence waining a little now that the interaction is real, “Y/N/N told you I was comin’ “

and then he’s back to laughing, the same disbelieving laughter that has almost become his trademark lately.

“I, god” he says, “I can’t believe it’s you— are, are you okay? do you have everythin’ you need? I can bring anythin—”

“Steve” Y/N cautions, more firmly than before, “Take a breath”

The look of gratitude on Bucky’s face is obvious. He hadn’t meant to set the man off like that, he… he hadn’t really meant to do anything other than say hello, and now all of this is suddenly feeling like… like a big step for a phone call—

“Okay” Steve chuckles, “Okay, yeah, you’re right— sorry— sorry, Buck I- I know you need time, and your own space, I- I get it, I swear.”

“Breathe” Y/N repeats, “take a breath- I wouldn't put it past you to be the first super solider to give himself an asthma attack”

To his credit, he does listen to her, despite her teasing tone. The way that he stops to draw in a real, grounding breath is audible, even via a phone call.

“I’m… I’m here and I’m fine” is what Bucky chimes in, “I… I’m just— it’s… this a lot, Steve”

“Yeah” the other man agrees, clearly a little bit calmer, “Yeah, I know- I’m sorry”

“Stop apologising” Y/N inserts, “It’s fine, you’re both fine-“

“She’s right…” Bucky agrees, “I… I trust you, I know you want to make this easy on me”

“I do” Steve agrees, “I really, I do, Buck- so anything, anything either of you need—”

“Let’s start with lunch” Y/N suggests, knuckle grazing Bucky’s chin, “Don’t rush back, just finish up whatever you’re doin’, stop by the deli and-”

“2 cheese-steaks” Steve finishes happily, “I’ll see you soon?”

That’s a question. It’s definitely a question.

“Yeah” Bucky answers, “See you soon.”

FRIDAY ends the call, and Y/N can’t help but tilt her head as the man in her lap sags back into her front.

“You can still change your mind” she promises, knowing he’ll need the reminder, “Baby, that was brave…”

“..I… I’ve missed him” he says, realising as he does, that it’s the truth, “I’m just, god I'm scared, I'm scared and I don't even know why.”

“I know”

She does know, too, she’s known that he’s missed Steve since she'd first had a real conversation with it, despite his frequent and sometimes playful denials.

“Will you stay close?” Bucky asks next, “When he’s here, doll, will you stay with me?”

“Sure I will” she swears, stroking a line from his temple, all the way across his neck, “I’ll stay wherever you want me to.”

He likes that, nodding before huffing out a deep breath.

“You know…” she says, thought just occurring to her, “…I don’t think Steve has actually ever been in here…”

“Hmm?”

“Steve” Y/N says again, “he’s never stopped by, it’s always been me goin’ to see him.”

“Well” Bucky sighs tiredly, “You’re a real pretty girl, and he’s never been real good at speakin’ to dames, maybe he’s a little scared too”

“Maybe” she agrees, “We’ll have to make sure he feels welcome”

He just hums again, daring to imagine how nice it might be to have his oldest friend come to visit.

To come to his home for a meal, like… like they’d done as boys.

To see him and Y/N laughing, to see the two people he cares for the most in the world together, together in one place, in one, safe place.

And then he’s asleep.

Y/N notices the rise and fall of his chest becoming deeper, and then, she sees the tell-tale way his legs twitch when he starts dreaming.

“FRIDAY, let me know when Steve gets close”

The AI hears her whispered request and replies almost silently so as not to disturb the man in her arms.

For a minute, she wonders what to do with herself, but then, she remembers the ‘code white’ protocol and the way that the list of programmed triggers have been transferred over to her.

In Tony’s defence, it’s actually not a bad list.

It includes basic behavioural alerts, and, an audio monitoring system that is set to catch any of his code words in every known language.

So if anyone tries to use them, if anyone tried to hack into anything and blast them over their speakers, or if anyone was stupid enough to try them in person, then they’d be alerted before anything could come of it.

She looks more into what exactly happens when it is activated, too, and when she does, she realises just how thoughtful Tony had been when coding it.

It doesn’t just remove Bucky’s access and send out a ping to their devices.

It locks him in whatever room he’s in, unless he’s with anyone the software isn’t certain is a friendly.

It secures him, safely, in one place, making sure that nobody could try and take advantage of the situation; and then, it sends a distress signal, her, Steve and Tony, not letting up until they’re within range of his location and even then, they still need to manually over-ride it.

There are details, too, details so thoughtful that she doubts that even she could’ve come up with anything better;

Wherever Bucky is, when this is triggered, is programmed to be as calming of an environment as possible.

The lights will stay dim, and the audio will be dampened— FRIDAY is still set to respond to him as family, so he won’t ever be left totally alone waiting for someone he trusts to arrive.

She only makes a few minor adjustments. She adds a triggers that they wouldn’t have known about, and eases the parameters for his biological monitoring to better allow for his enhancements.

“He’s not Steve” she tells FRIDAY quietly, “If Tony’s ever doing anything like this again, remind him that he was exposed to different stimuli, and has some more more complex internal components— it’s not just his arm, which, by the way, is more invasive than he thinks.”

The AI’s barley audible ‘Yes, boss’ makes her smile, so does the agreement she gets when she asks her to let her brother know how grateful she is for all of his hard work.

Tony likes gestures, Y/N thinks to herself, maybe I can finish up a project for him?

“Hey, FRIDAY?” she sighs, flicking her holo-tablet off, “Is Tony stallin’ on anythin? Somethin’ that he just can’t seem to make himself finish?”

“Now you mention it, Y/N- There is the end of year review for the STARK internship programme. He has been opening the files, but he has yet to make a start on the actual report, even though he has had the brief for the past 4 months.”

“Send it over” she murmurs, smiling to herself, “Will I have time to get started, or shall I wait until tonight?”

“Captain Rodgers is downstairs, I was just about to alert you.”

“Later it is” she decides, slipping back to normal volume now that she knows she has to wake Bucky anyway, “Hey, baby”

Her fingers curl through his hair as she shifts, repeating her greeting.

He’s still in her arms, face pressed against her chest, and as he feels himself becoming more and more alert, he starts to remember exactly where he is.

And then he’s smiling.

“God” he mumbles, “did, did I pass out?”

Y/N chuckles, rubbing her nose against his before pressing a kiss against his mouth.

“A little” she soothes, stroking his cheek, “did you sleep well?”

“Yeah” he replies honestly, “Yeah, I— I did”

“Good” she beams, kissing him again, “Steve’s on his way, have you decided what you wanna’ do?”

He ducks his head, bashful for a moment.

“I’ll say Hi” he tells her, “We… We should invite him in, too?”

“It’s your place” she reminds him gently, “You can invite whoever you want.”

That concept makes him smile, sweet and genuine as he nods.

“I… I might be a little jumpy” he warns her, “I- I’d feel better if you—”

“—Stay close?”

She nods as she strokes a line down, across both of his arms, feeling the softness of the fabric sleeves he’s wearing.

“You like the shirt?” she wonders, “Does it fit?”

“Yeah” he says, “Yeah it… it’s perfect”

“Good” is the last thing she manages to say before there’s a knock on their door.

Bucky freezes for a second. Eyes widening as adrenaline floods his chest, but then, he takes a breath, and moves so that they can both stand up.

He clings to Y/N’s hand the second he can reach, and doesn’t even think about letting go as they head towards the entrance.

“If you need to leave” she tells him under her breath, “just go to the bedroom— I’ll take care of Steve, okay?”

He nods, biting his cheek so hard that he tastes blood on his tongue.

“Here we go then”

The door opens, and Y/N nearly chokes when she sees Steve Rodgers, stood, in his full suit, shield strapped to his back, with a bag of cheese-steaks in his hands.

“Oh my god” she scoffs, blinking rapidly, “What are you wearing?”

He looks down at himself, gawking.

“I- I was doin’ press” he stammers awkwardly, “I-”

“You didn’t think about changin?” Bucky says, shock making him forget his nervousness for a moment

“Well-” Steve says, smiling shyly, “You did make me promise to keep the outfit, remember?”

Out of all the ways that Bucky might’ve reacted, Y/N thinks that him, letting go of her hand whilst stepping forwards to hug his oldest friend is probably the best.

Steve is clearly so taken aback by the gesture that he doesn’t know what to do, because the way that he barely grazes the other mans back with his arms is telling.

The whole thing is so sweet, so desperately, earnestly sweet, that she doesn’t know what to do.

The pair separate quickly enough, and Bucky retreats to her side with a flush of red in his cheeks and eyes that look awfully full.

Y/N suspects Steve is crying too, but if he is, he hides it well by turning to fuss with his shield.

“How many subs did you get?” she asks, looking at the bag he’s still clutching, “That’s a little big for only 2?”

“Oh” he chuckles, “yeah, they— they gave me a bunch, insisted when they, saw— y’know? they would’t even let me pay! I had to get FRIDAY to wire it across”

Y/N sniggers a little at that, at the image of a fully dressed Captain America standing in line at a Deli.

“Want to come eat with us?”

Steve’s jaw drops when Bucky asks him that.

When he looks at Y/N, face full of surprise and she just offers him a one armed shrug.

“I… are— are you sure, Buck, I- I don’t want to gate-crash”

“It’s not gatecrashin’ if you’re invited” Bucky counters, feeling awfully proud of himself, “I- I’m not sayin’ I’m ready to throw a dinner party but, you should see where I’m stayin’ at least.”

“Yeah” Steve grins, “Yeah I’d, I’d love that, Y/N/N- is, is that okay with you?”

“It’s his place as much as mine, ‘Cap” she says, leading the way inside, “and he’s right, you should see it— honestly I can’t believe you haven’t stopped by sooner.”

“If I’m bein’ honest” he says, closing the door behind himself, “I’ve only ever been this high up once or twice.”

“Roof parties or for the labs?” Y/N asks, watching calmly as Steve’s eyes widen, obviously captivated by the space,

“Once of each” the pair say in unison.

Steve lets out an awkward chuckle, still taken aback by inside of her suite.

“C’mon boys” she coos, acutely aware of the way that Bucky has frozen, now, hovering by her side, fingers tight against her own, “Let’s eat?”

The nod Steve gives her is much more natural than that of her partner.

They walk to the couch, and sit, together, with Steve hovering awkwardly in front of them until Y/N rolls her eyes and points at the arm chair.

“Sit, Steve, Jesus— You’re acting like you thought I lived in a- well I don’t know, what were you expecting?”

He opens the bag, pulling out three sandwiches, and passing her two before looking up and around again.

“Not this…” he admits, “I’m, I’m not really sure, darlin’— maybe something a little more…“

“Modern?” Bucky guesses, recalling his earlier observations.

“Yeah” Steve agrees, grinning, “yeah, that’s the word.”

“It’s plenty modern” Y/N retorts playfully, “Almost half the stuff in here is custom built technology, god, I think even the cutlery is vibranium.”

“I didn’t mean it like that” Steve says, taking a bite out of his sub, “I meant the… the stuff”

Her eyes roll again, and she notices how the only one of them who hasn’t even unwrapped his meal is Bucky.

He’s still clinging to her hand, sandwich abandoned on his lap.

Y/N meets Steve’s eye a second before he considers mentioning it.

The look she gives him speaks a thousand words, and he finds himself ignoring it completely, containing the polite chatter he’s making with her, instead.

"You know why me and Tony have all the important stuff up so high?" she says, "It's so if we ever have to jump out the window, there's enough time for the emergency suits to deploy- we had to get measurements so we knew which floors we could claim"

And Bucky is insanely grateful. He’s so, so grateful to not have to try and speak right now, when all he wants to do is watch.

Y/N just keeps hold of his hand, as she eats with the other.

She nods along with Steve and hopes she knows how important it is that he doesn’t push too hard right now.

This is already such a huge step. It really is the epitome of running before you can walk, though, so she doesn’t want to do anything that might cause him to stumble.

A few minutes pass and they’re done with their food.

They’re done, and Steve knows that he should probably leave.

“Did you tell T that we’re back?” Y/N asks

“Yeah” Steve sighs, “but it kinda seemed like he already knew.”

She scoffs, bringing Bucky’s hand to her lips.

“Sounds about right” she murmurs, pressing kiss against his knuckles, “Tell him I’ll catch up with him tomorrow? I think we’re due a quiet night in, huh, Buck?”

His head tilts when he hears his name. He blinks, looking almost dazed before he smiles and nods in agreement.

“Yeah, doll” he murmurs, “a… a quiet night in sounds good…”

“I’ll pass it on” Steve swears, going to stand, “I- I should go and get changed”

Y/N chuckles at that, not bothering to stand, “You should definitely change” she agrees, “Romanoff is gonna kick your ass if she catches you roaming the halls like that”

His laugh is silent, it’s embarrassed but real. He nods in agreement and catches Bucky’s eye.

“I’ll see ya’ around, Buck” he promises, “and remember, if either of you need anythin’ then just-”

“let you know” Y/N chimes in softly, “We will, I promise, but for right now, I think we just need some time to settle in.”

He smiles at that, and nods in agreement, offering her a two fingered salute as he turns to leave.

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | x | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12

[sketchy-rosewitch]

Don’t Break This Fantasy: Mtf!Bo Sinclair x gn!feminine!afab!reader

Warnings: reader is called wife (uses they/them tho), infidelity, reader’s husband is cuck holding, fingering, pussy eating, PinV, dubious consent, manipulation.

A/N: Thought of Bo as a hot woman so now you guys get this. Happy Pride Month ;3

Sweat drips down your skin as you and your husband, James make your way down the small town road to the Gas Station. You were supposed to be heading to Texas for a family visit, unfortunately two of your tires popped when James decided to take a detour.

He pulls up next to a pump and the two of you get out, a slight breeze comes throw making you sigh.

“Come on, I don’t have fucking time for you to be standing around.” James walks around the car and grabs your arm dragging you into the station. A woman stands in a mechanic’s uniform reorganizing her toolbox. “Hello? We’re looking for Bo. A man told us we’d find him here.”

“Ya found her.” She smirks and honestly if your husband wasn’t holding onto you would’ve fallen with how pretty she was. Your face felt hotter than it already was. You look down and shuffle in your mary janes.

You hear James scoff.

“Yeah okay, well I need my tires replaced. Damn things popped.”

The three of you are already on your way back into the humid Louisiana heat. Bo crouches to get a look at the tire sizes before nodding her head. You notice how short her hair is, it curls slightly, most likely due to the sweat coming off of her.

“Come on. Shouldn’t have to drag you everywhere like a child.” James snarls in your ear.

“Sorry.” You whisper, still thinking about running your hands through the woman’s hair.

“Just pull the car in here and I’ll get her fixed right up.” Bo says, already pulling out two tires. James almost drags you with him. “Don’t think it’s a two person job.” Bo jokes, James gives a tight lipped smile and lets go of you.

You talk up to Bo, your heels clacking against the cement. Shyly, your hand reaches out.

“Thank you Bo, I was worried we wouldn’t get the car fixed. I’m sorry my husband can be a pain sometimes but he is very thankful.”

The woman takes her calloused hand in yours and shakes it. “It’s not a problem, though I’d sure like to hear it from him.” Her voice is deep and gravelly. Your heart aches for her. You look up and notice her eyes. She lets go of your hands and nervously you look away.

“You have very pretty eyes.” You mumble. Your body jolts hearing your husband slamming the driver’s door.

“Thank you sweetheart. You have beautiful eyes too.”

Your breath hitches, quickly returning to normal as your husband comes up.

“I needa use the bathroom you got one?” James asks rudely.

“Yeah, it’s downstairs, Lemme help you find it.” Bo starts walking towards the back and your husband follows. You notice how much shorter your husband is than Bo. How much Bo could dominate him in a fight. You smile thinking about Bo in just a tank top, all sweaty, her running her hands through her hair as she teaches James a lesson or two.

James needed many more lessons though. He could be so awful. You just allow him to be that way though cause it’s all a tough guy act.

Bo comes up a few minutes later seemingly more sweaty. You smile thinking you’ll at least get a few minutes with her.

“So where were you two headed?” She asks pulling out a chair for you to sit on.

“To see James’ side of the family. I wanted to get there at a decent time because they’re very particular about being late but I guess that won’t happen.” The sun was beginning to set and you look at it for a second before turning your attention back to the masculine woman before you. “Never really liked them anyways. So I guess that’s good that we get to spend less time with them. Just, don’t tell James I said that. He can be-“

“An ass? Yeah I can tell.” Bo huffs, getting one wheel off. You giggle.

“Yeah, an ass. It’s all an act though. Sometimes he’ll be real sweet when he’s drunk. So I can tell he wants to be nice but he just can’t.”

Bo hums in acknowledgment. “My pa was the same way, except when he got really REALLY drunk he’d beat the shit outta me and my brothers.” Bo confesses, it sounds like a joke but you don’t take it like one at all.

“Oh, I’m so sorry. You don’t deserve that. You’re so nice and I’m sure your brothers are too.”

Bo looks over her shoulder at you. “I don’t know about me hun, but yeah my brothers didn’t deserve that shit. They’re both a lot nicer than I am. Except when my twin is riled up. You’re a sweetheart. James don’t deserve you.” Bo pops the first tire back into place. “Speaking of, he should’ve been up here by now..” Her brows furrow. “You mind helping me look for him. Don’t know how he could but maybe he got lost.”

You nod your head really just wanting to spend more time with the beautiful mechanic and you two head downstairs, you taking the lead.

A sting comes to your head, then, nothing.

-

You wake up with a gasp, feeling your hand cuffed to a long chain and pull on it attempting to get out before frantically looking around.

You sit on a dingy mattress and across from you is James. His mouth is shut, he’s strapped to some medical chair, wiggling and groaning. Your brain automatically goes to Bo. Where is she? Is she okay?

Your question is answered as soon as she walks in the room.

“You’re awake!” She claps her hands together and sits on the mattress, you lean against the wall with your brows furrowed.

“What’s going on?” You ask, watching as the mechanic licks her bottom lip.

“Well.. your husband is an asshole yeah? So, I bet he doesn’t know how to treat his wife sexually. I just wanna show him how to is all. I hope that’s okay.” Her face becomes a mock pout. Your thighs heat up and you nervously look away. “Come on sweetheart. I bet you’d like my cock better than his.”

Your face heats up and twitches. “Will you let us go after?” You ask, your stomach clenching from anxiety.

“Of course.”

You nod your head and move forward letting the woman have access to your body. She smirks wolfishly at you. Your cunt clenches around nothing. You look over at James. He still wiggling and screaming into the tape.

“Please don’t hate me. I just wanna get us out.” Your voice sounds meek, James still looks pissed but you turn back to Bo who is already reaching up your dress. Her fingers are lightly brushing over your cunt, you spread your legs wider.

“Good…” You feel the woman’s lips on your forehead and look up, not even realizing your body’s reaction you lean up kissing her chapped lips softly. She moans and dips her hand into your panties, feeling you up and down.

“God you’re so wet. Do you like me that much?” Bo teases, with your free hand you take off her hat, her curls become more prominent, making you run your fingers through them.

“Yeah.” Your voice is breathy. You hope James thinks it’s a lie, but it honestly isn’t. Your hands reach to unbutton her shirt, you notice she doesn’t wear a bra and her breasts are small. You love them. She slides the shirt off, afterwards pulling your panties down. The brunette lowers herself until she’s between your thighs.

Her soft kisses and licks coat them as she goes further and further towards your cunt. You let out a small whine, her breath causing a whine to escape your throat.

“You ever been eaten out.” Bo asks, your finger goes to your mouth and you bite nervously down on it.

“N-no.” You confess, the woman tsks and looks at James.

“You really are a jackass. You probably only use her for your own pleasure too I bet.”

You watch as he struggles against the restraints trying to make his case. Truth is, he did. You don’t think you’ve ever finished. He never cared that you haven’t finished.

“He does.” You scowl at your husband. Hatred beginning to fester in you.

“Gotta teach you how to treat a woman, this is fuckin’ pathetic.” Bo turns you and pulls you to the edge of the mattress so James can see your cunt. “Do you see how wet their pretty pussy is?”

Your legs are spread but Bo spreads your pussy lips farther apart.

“You gotta nod so I understand.”

Your cunt squeezes at how dominant she is.

Bo takes her middle and ring finger and swirls them teasingly around your cunt. You whine and lean back into her.

“I bet she never whines for you. God this poor clit has probably been so neglected. I’m gonna change that. Give your wife a good orgasm.” Bo kisses around your ear then dips her fingers into you, spreading you open. Your back arches and you let out small airy moans. She curls her digits causing you to buck into her large hand and lick at her throat desperately, her sweat tasting so good.

“Yeah does that feel good?”

“Yess.”

Her thumb rubs gentle circles into your clit causing a louder moan to come out. She smiles and stares at James, you look at him too, feeling absolutely embarrassed you bury your face further into her neck. Her fingers build a knot in your stomach, it’s something you’ve never felt before, it makes the experience so much better.

But then she stops, her fingers slide out causing a whine to erupt from your chest.

“I know, felt so good sweetheart. I’m gonna make you feel so much better though. Don’t worry.” Bo says lightly tapping your face, you watch as she licks your slick off of her fingers and groans.

“You taste so delicious. Can’t believe I’m the first to try you.”

She starts to get up and circles around, her face is back close to your cunt. Your heart picks up pace and you can’t help but smile. “Smell so good, this is my cunt now James.” She looks behind her and smirks. “God do you have a hard on from this? That’s disgusting.” Bo gets up and you whine wanting to feel her tongue so badly.

Jealously takes over as Bo circles him, you notice James’ bulge and huff at how close Bo’s hand is from it. She buttons and unzips his pants, precum leaks from his cock and you furrow your brows frowning.

Bo is yours, you don’t wanna share her. James gets to feel good all the time it’s not fair!

You notice in the other hand the mechanic has a knife. A cruel thought takes over your head that she should cut his dick off. But you shake it off and watch. She takes the knife and cuts his stomach, he cries in pain.

“Your disgusting.” Bo says, cutting deeper, you watch red spring from the cuts, then Bo pulls the knife back and sets it on the table next to James.

She walks back over and kneels between your legs, you roll your hips forward and Bo wastes no time licking and sucking your cunt.

A loud mewl comes from your lips. You feel her fingers thrust into you and you cry louder.

“Bo! Ah! Please I like this.. so good your tongue.”

It kicks in circles, up and down and right on the bulb of your clit. Your hand holds onto Bo’s hair, tingles running rapidly through your body. Her fingers curling make the experience all the better. You look down and watch as Bo desperately laps at your cunt, causing vulgarly wet noises to come from below.

Your moans never cease as your knot builds more and more, you swear Bo’s fingers get faster, trying to get out louder and more disgusting sounds from you.

A gasp leaves your throat as the knot breaks. You squirt all over Bo’s face as you orgasm, your eyes rolling back and squeals coming from your mouth.

Everything felt light, you roll your hips one final time as Bo leaves your cunt. The bottom have of her face is wet with you, she takes you and kisses your face gently, you lick and hold tightly to her, wanting to taste more and more of yourself.

“Feel good?”

“Y-yeah.” You bury your head in her neck. She rubs your back.

“See it’s not so hard to pleasure your wife with your mouth. You know how to pleasure yourself with her pussy but why don’t we try pleasuring her with your cock. Or in this case, mine.” Bo explains.

You kiss her neck gently, indicating you’re ready for more.

She lays you on the bed, your head towards James.

Bo pulls her pants down and your face heats up immediately, her cock is huge and hairy. You wanna bury your face in it, maybe she’ll let you.

“You like it baby? It’s gonna slide in so easily since I got you prepped for it. You’re still so wet for me too.”

She takes her cock in her hand and smacks it against your pussy lightly, then rubs it against your clit, causing you and squirm.

“I know, I’m ready too.” Bo leans over you and kisses your face. Then you feel a large stretch, causing your eyes to roll back.

“Your so big!”

Bo smirks against your skin and sucks lightly on your collarbone.

“Yeah? You like a big cock in you? Makes you feel so full huh?”

Rapidly you nod your head. The woman pulls out, then thrusts roughly back in, she does this a few times and finally your brain processes her fucking you.

“See, look at her. She’s already cock drunk. She ever make these faces at you? I don’t think she has.”

Bo grips your face and pushes is back, your back arches of the bed. Your face is absolutely fucked out, drooling and tongue out. The feeling over Bo’s cock in your cunt, stretching you out over and over again feels like a bliss.

Your vision is hazy, but you swear you’re watching James’ cock twitch, your cunt squeezes Bo’s.

You wanna do this all the time. It feels so good, showing James what he’s missing out on, how it feels to be treated right.

“You gonna cum James? Huh? You just love being a cuck don’t you? Love watching a bitch give your wife pleasure cause you can’t fucking do it yourself?”

You squeeze again at Bo’s words. Feels so good, she feels so good you wanna cum yourself.

“Oh god, they’re close. They are, see James. You can tell cause their little hole is pulsating around my fat cock. Bet you’ve never felt that. Makes it so. Much. Better!” Bo groans and rocks into you harder. She lets go of your face and grips your hips.

You hear a loud groan from James. He came all over himself, you don’t even have to look to know.

Bo’s cock twitches, she takes her thumb and circles your clit making you moan. “Gonna cum sweetheart. Come on, I know you feel it yeah? Feels so good to get treated so well. Poor pussy’s been so neglected. I’m so happy to change that.”

Your back arches off the bed. Your eyes roll back and legs shake. You orgasm around her cock, pussy pulsating rapidly. Bo bites her lips and let’s put one more thrust, before bucking into you, groaning and spurting into your hole.

You gasp at being filled up and wrap your arms and legs around her, wanting to feel as close as you could to her.

“And… that James.” Bo pants. “Is claiming. I just claimed your wife. Filled them up with my spunk and made them mine.”

You whine softly, she gently kisses your cheek and holds you in her lap. “You did so good sweetheart. I’m gonna let James go first. Then you okay?”

You nod, your stomach dropping at this fantasy being over. You don’t want it to end, you don’t wanna go back to James.

Slowly you let go of her and she drops you on the bed, you watch as she makes her way over to James. You can’t see it but she grabs something behind him before unstrapping his wrists. He gets up and tucks himself in shamefully then tries to run up the stairs.

A loud gunshot is heard and James is on the ground, head bleeding. Bo tsks and shakes her head, she sets down the gun and walks over to you. Your body shakes, you don’t want the same treatment.

“Please don’t kill me.” You beg, tears welling in your eyes. Bo smiles gently.

“I ain’t gonna hurt you. You’re mine now. I’m gonna treat you so well.” She says, caressing your face. She grabs the key to unlock your cuff then gently rubs your wrist. “Why don’t we lay down for a bit.” Bo takes your dress off all the way and lays the two of you down. Her fingers trace your skin and she kisses your face before reaching over to the waxy end table and pulling out a cigarette and lighter.

You snuggle into her taking in the sound of her humming softly.

[powerfultenderness]

Date Night: M&M

Date Night: Murder and a Movie

Pairing: gn!Reader/Vigilante

Rated: Mature

Summary: Date night takes a small detour when Adrian spots someone Vigilante has been after. [Established relationship; implied exes to lovers]

Warnings: Violence, blood, mentions of (past) abuse, sexual situations (outdoor/public, choking).

Word Count: 4000

A/N: I floated this idea around a while back, so this goes out to the person who liked it/encouraged me to write it. Maybe one day they’ll come back to Tumblr/Ao3 and see this.

[Masterlist]

[Line Divider]

Adrian had suggested a movie date and it had been so long since you'd done anything so normal that not only did you quickly agree, you couldn’t help the excited squeal in your voice as you looked up movie times.

He looked at you with a wide, soft, grin on his face as you scrolled through your phone and named movies. He loved seeing you like this; happy.

-

What happened Friday night shouldn’t have been unexpected, but it was. Adrian had stopped at a red light on the way to the theater and you had been too absorbed in your phone to notice him leaning forward in his seat. So when he suddenly let out a loud and angry, “shit!” you nearly jumped out of your seat.

“What?” You looked at him curiously, trying to keep yourself from getting nervous. He wasn’t angry at you, he wasn’t even looking at you.

“That’s Slippery Joe!”

You glanced at the light, it was still red. He didn't seem to hear the incredulity in your voice as you asked about the ridiculous nickname. “Slippery Joe?”

“Yea, he’s a real bad guy! He always manages to get away from the cops and Vigilante!”

The light turned green but since no one was behind you, you didn’t mention it. “Well,” you started instead. “Do you want to take care of it now?”

He whipped his head around, finally looking at you, eyes narrowed and brows scrunched up in confusion. “What?”

“Isn’t the Vigilante suit in the trunk?” You asked as you motioned to the back of your car with your thumb. “Just pull over, pop on the mask and gloves and kill him.”

Despite the subject matter, the murder of a man, your tone was casual. Like you were merely suggesting taking a different route and not subverting the justice system.

“Shit.” Adrian mumbled again, just realizing that the light was green.

He pulled over to some street parking and watched as Slippery Joe continued to talk to someone.

“Are you sure?” He asked as he parked and turned off the lights

You looked at the clock and shrugged, “we still have an hour before the movie starts.”

Adrian hummed nervously and looked back at the two men.

“Or we can just go to the movie like we planned. No big deal.” You had no idea he’d be so torn with a decision like this.

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” He looked at you again, face etched with worry. “Because when you first found out about Vigilante-”

“So I overreacted!” You threw your hands up and rolled your eyes. “Are you going to hold that against me forever?”

What exactly was the right response to finding out your partner was technically a serial killer? (Encouraging him was probably not the right answer!)

“Okay!” He nodded as a grin started to pull at his lips. “Wait here! I’ll be right back!”

He gave you a quick kiss on the cheek then jumped out and rushed to the back of the car.

As he ran past the car towards the corner that Slippery Joe had turned, he waved at you. You chuckled and waved back. He looked a little silly wearing the Vigilante mask with the nice button down you got him for his birthday, but no doubt just as menacing as always.

By the time Vigilante caught up with Slippery Joe, the man was alone. That was just fine by Vigilante.

“Joeyyy!” Vigilante raised his voice, and added a light laugh. “Long time no see!”

“Fuck!” Joey didn’t even need to look back at the voice to see who it was, he knew it well enough and knew better than to give Vigilante an opening. He took off in the opposite direction, pulling over a stack of pallets behind him as he ran in an attempt to slow Vigilante down.

It worked, a little at least. The pallets fell into a rather large puddle, causing Vigilante to hop back out of the splash zone. “Not cool, man! You’re gonna ruin my date night outfit!”

That sparked an interest in Joe, he glanced behind him curiously to see Vigilante without his mask on. But in that moment as he turned, just as he spotted the red gleam of Vigilante’s visor, Vigilante threw a knife and hit his target.

Joe tumbled to the ground, the knife sticking out of the back of his right leg. Of all the places to get caught, behind some old buildings with no clear escape route, his timing had never been so bad. He quickly turned himself over and sat up, his breath coming out in pants as he squeezed his eyes shut and yanked out the large knife in his leg. His own screams seemed to be drowned out by Vigilante’s loud and obnoxious laugh.

Vigilante slowly made his way closer, taking deliberate care to avoid puddles.

Slippery Joe tried to stand, only to fall back with another yell as he fell into an undignified heap onto the dirty ground. “No! Nonono!” He pleaded as he tried to push himself further away, it didn’t help.

Vigilante whistled happily as he caught up to Joe. “As fun as it would be to draw this out, I’ve got a date to get back to.”  

Joe looked past Vigilante and a spark of hope ignited in him. “Help!” He called out to a figure standing at the other end of the alley.  

“You think someone is going to help you?” Vigilante laughed again, one hand slapping his knee.

“Call the cops! Please!”

Vigilante followed the man’s line of sight and turned around. Ah, so that’s why Joey seemed to think there was someone around to help. He laughed again, causing Joe to look back at him even more scared now. “That’s my date!” Vigilante explained and turned towards you, with his hands on his hips as he raised his voice. “Who’s supposed to be waiting in the car!”

The two men barely heard the faint chuckle that bounced off cement and brick. Joe was getting no help from you.

“Cute, right?” Vigilante picked up the discarded knife then grabbed Joe with his free hand. “Alright, up you go!” He heaved the man onto his feet.

As Vigilante steadied him, he turned Joe around so that he was standing in front of him, both men facing the same direction. “Wait, you’re not going to kill me?”

The relief in his voice made Vigilante let out another chuckle. “Oh I am. I just don’t want your blood to get on me.”

Before Joe could fully process those words, Vigilante brought up the knife and pulled it against Joe’s neck, slicing deeply as he held the man's head back, blood spraying forth in an arch in front of them. Lucky for Vigilante, not a single drop landed on his clothes.

Still mindful of the blood, he let the body fall and wiped his knife on Joe’s clothes before sliding it back on his belt.

"And you!" Vigilante spun around and pointed at you as he stalked forward.

Your body stiffened as Vigilante closed in on you. In the poorly lit back alley, his visor only reflected a dark, dull, red the closer he got. With every step he took, you saw blood splashing against brick. Every step he took, you heard the scrape of metal against cement and the gurgling gasp of a dying man.

You blinked and your eyes caught sight of his arms, biceps straining against a pretty powder blue dress shirt as he effortlessly lifted a man and used the very same knife to cut the man’s life away.

Not even the silly tilt of his head, face still covered in his mask, could blunt the startling awareness that this was Vigilante, a murderer, a psychopath.

He waved hand in front of your face, “hellloooo! Are you there??”

Your eyes followed his gloved hand and the realization that those gloves were just touching a dead body made your knees weak. You were already leaning against the brick wall behind you, but now you sagged against it as you stared at Vigilante. Vigilante, not Adrian.

“Shit.” He muttered under his breath. He knew you should have stayed in the car! He lifted the visor on his mask and tried to get you to look him in the eyes. Your own eyes were dilated and your breathing shallow.

“Hey! Hey, baby, you know I’m not gonna hurt you, right?”

You blinked slowly at him and spoke barely above a whisper. “Hurt me?”

“No!” He waved one hand with an exaggerated slashing motion. “That’s what I’m not going to do!”  

He glanced around, making sure no one was around to catch him and lifted his hands to take off his mask, but your hands caught his before he could. “Keep it on.” Your voice now a firm whisper.

He was a little confused. Why would you want him to keep the mask on if it scared you?

He was very surprised, pleasantly so though, when you surged forward and crashed your lips to his through his mask.

“Oh!” Vigilante bit back a gasp as he realized that watching him kill hadn’t scared you, it turned you on.

Blood already pumping on adrenaline from his little chase, it didn’t take long for him to push you against the wall, to slot himself between your legs and to press himself against you in a way he knew would have you moaning.

No longer content with kissing him over the mask, you pushed up his mask just enough to reveal his mouth. The kiss that followed was needy, desperate and he couldn’t tell who was more desperate.

He groaned, his hips jutting into yours, eliciting an echo from you. “We. We can’t. Do this here.” He muttered between kissing you and dragging his lips and tongue down your jaw, ending with a firm bite on your neck.

“Why?” You whimpered as your head fell back enough to allow him more room to mark your neck. Which he gladly did, everyone who saw you should know that you belonged to him now, again.

He grinned, grinding himself into you again, as he sucked at the pulse point on your neck, he loved feeling you, how hard your heartbeat was in your chest, which was pressed so closely to his that he could feel it. He could feel you throbbing against his thigh, his own aching desire keeping him as close to you as possible.

“Public indecency. Misdemeanor.” He answered between biting and lapping at your hot skin.

You stilled for a moment, not that he particularly noticed, too lost in you to stop. Until you let out a breathless giggle. He looked up, in all the shifting and roaming hands, his visor had fallen back down, casting your seductive grin in a red hue.

“No one’s around.” You mewled as you tried to pull him down for another kiss.

“I am.” He hissed when instead of catching his mouth, your lips landed on his jaw, your teeth lightly scraping his skin as you moved to bite his neck.

You smiled against his skin and hummed, the small vibrations causing him to buck into you again. Clothes truly felt like a hindrance in this moment, as he couldn’t feel you in the way he really wanted, his only reward for his movements the breathy gasp that you puffed out against his skin.

“Yea, you are. What’re you going to do about it?” You taunted him as you dragged a hand down his chest, landing on his belt and idly fiddling with the buckle.

Vigilante groaned and dropped his head on your shoulder, slumping into you and pressing your harder into the wall. The rough brick scratched at your back and Vigilante’s weight dropping on you forced you to steady your legs.

“I thought you wanted to see the movie?” He muttered into your shoulder, nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck.

You sighed and took a moment to let your heart calm down. This was Adrian being sweet. He had let you pick the movie and you told him how excited you were to see it, and now he was just making sure you got what you wanted (and weren’t instead breaking any local ordinances!). You gently ran a hand up and down on his back, in an attempt to calm him down as well, before reaching up and pulling the Vigilante mask off of him.

He immediately shot up and looked at you in shock. “What are you doing?”

You tucked the mask in your sweater and pushed yourself off the wall. “Relax, I checked again, no one’s around. Come on, let’s get back to the car.”

Adrian wrapped an arm around you, and adjusted his pants with his other hand, as you walked back to the car.

Since you had the keys to the Sebring, you unlocked the trunk before handing his mask back and climbing in the passenger seat, while Adrian put away the Vigilante mask and gloves. He was quick about it, both out of paranoia and because he really did want to get to the movie on time! At least it hadn’t taken long at all to kill Slippery Joe.

Once Adrian had pulled back onto the road, you reached over and gently ran a hand down his arm.

“Hm?” He questioned, thinking that you were just trying to get his attention. “Oh.” You just wanted to hold his hand! He steered with his left hand while he let you hold his right.

He wasn’t expecting you to bring his palm up to your mouth to place gentle kisses along the inside of his hand.

“Wow! You really liked watching me kill that guy, huh?”

“Mmhm.” You hummed as your lips moved down to his wrist, teeth scraping at his skin enough to leave a trail of red marks. He hissed quietly and shifted in his seat, trying his best to keep his attention on the road. His quiet little breathy gasp as your tongue glided over the fresh bite mark sent a thrilling jolt to your core. For someone so strong, he was very sensitive, with delightfully smooth skin, not a scar or callus blemishing his perfect body.

“M-maybe I should let you tag along on my next Vigilante patrol.”

His playful suggestion made you freeze, and you nearly let his hand drop, as you looked up at him.

He pouted as he glanced between you and the road, his next question coming out in a breathless whine. “Why’d you stop?”

"Oh, maybe next time we can kill someone on my list!" You smiled sweetly at him and finally let go of his hand.

Anyone else, with a similar dark sense of humor, would have taken your words as a joke. But Adrian wasn't anyone else. His face scrunched up a little and he tilted his head in confusion, though his eyes remained on the road. "Your list? Of people that you want to kill?"

"Yea." You nodded as you stared at him, trying to gauge his reaction.

It was one thing to show up on his doorstep covered in bruises, both fresh and old, to ask him to kill the man who hurt you. It felt entirely different to ask the same favor when you'd been living safe long enough that only faded scars remained. When you hadn't had so much as a papercut since Adrian, since Vigilante, came back into your life.

His arousal was suddenly forgotten in the face of this revelation. His right hand, which had fallen to the center console when you let go of it, returned to the steering wheel as he focused on driving.

"Who's on it?"

He wasn't going to easily write off your little comment as a joke, not that you wanted him to. You shifted in your seat and looked down at your hands. "Just, you know." You started to answer him quietly, "people."

Adrian might not be the smartest guy around, but as he glanced at you, at the way you anxiously held your hands in your lap and how stiff you had become, he had a feeling he knew just what kind of people were on that list.

"Well, can I see it?"

A nervous giggle bubbled its way past your lips. “It’s not a list I have written down, Adrian.” You tapped your temple, “it’s all up here.”

“Oh.”

You decided to drop the question. He wasn’t angry, but he certainly wasn’t happy either. He just looked like he was concentrating. Probably deciding what to do with you now that he knew you had a vendetta against multiple people. Maybe asking him to kill for you wasn’t the best idea. It wasn’t like Vigilante was some hitman for hire. And even if he was, you likely couldn’t even afford someone as efficient as Vigilante.

“Hey,” he finally spoke up again, this time extending one hand to you, while keeping his eyes on the road.

You eyed him for a moment, cautiously curious and hummed a silent question before taking his offered hand. Like you did to him before, he firmly pressed his lips to your palm. Your heart, already beating quickly, fluttered as his breath warmed your skin, his lips moving down to your wrist. Once he found your pulse point, he let his lips linger, his tongue snaking out and lapping at your skin. He smiled into the kiss as he felt your heart race faster before he pulled away with one more little peck to your wrist.

His fingers, thick and strong and tantalizing then entwined with yours before he gave your hand a gentle squeeze. He stopped at an intersection and took the moment to look over at you. "I'll kill every motherfucker that's ever hurt you."

And he meant it. Of course he meant it. You could hear the sincerity in his voice, see the determination in his eyes and the way his jaw clenched. He would kill for you. He had killed for you before, and now here he was, admitting he’d do it again, as many times as you needed him to. The warmth of your blush spread further, down to your chest where you weren’t sure if your heart was beating even faster or if your heart had skipped a beat.

You leaned across the center console and kissed him on the cheek. He would never let you fully kiss him while he was driving, but the much more innocent action had him blushing all over again just as hard.

“What, what was that for?”  

You were already smiling, somehow he always had a way of making you smile. “Oh.” You shrugged, a light giggle lacing your words. “Thank you for taking me out tonight, Adrian.”

You were just as infectious to him as he was to you. Your giddiness had him excited and he tapped his hands on the steering wheel as he smiled and flirtatiously raised his eyebrows. “You’re welcome!”

The rest of the ride, short as it was, was spent in a comfortable silence.

Adrian chose a parking spot that was a bit far from the entrance but you figured he just didn't want to spend the time looking for an open space. "Let's hurry before the concession stand closes! I want an Icee!"

You hurried out of the car before he could even respond, your good mood making you feel eager. You stood by the trunk of the car and waited for him, rocking back and forth a bit as he locked the doors.

"So I was thinking," he started as he caught up to you and you lopped your arm around his. You started to walk towards the theater, but his feet felt like lead, refusing to let you pull him with you. "For our next date, I think you should join me."

You smiled, trying your best to repress a laugh. "Uh, yea, Adrian. It would hardly be a date if you were by yourself!"

“Noo,” he furrowed his brows a little and pulled you from his side to stand in front of him. “I said, for our next “date”, you should join me.” As he emphasized the word date, he mimed bunny ears with his hands.

You giggled and grabbed his hands, pulling them down as if to prevent anyone from catching on. You then glanced around, the parking lot was empty, before you looked up and whispered. “Yea I got that,” you leaned even closer to him, dropping your voice even more. “V.”

“Oh!” It was cute how his eyes got all wide and his eyebrows shot up as he realized you understood his hints. “But, do you want to join me too?”

Now it was your turn to be confused. You tilted your head, “wait. What? What do you mean? I thought I already made it clear I’d like to be there..?”

The wicked, twisted, grin that crossed his face made your heart drop. You were certain that was a side of Adrian that he usually hid behind the Vigilante mask. And it was beautiful.

He leaned close to you again and whispered in your ear. “Yea, but do you want to kill them yourself?”

You froze, breath caught in your throat, and for the second time in one night, felt your legs start to shake under you. One of Adrian’s hands flew to your waist and pulled you flush against him. The other slowly dragged up your arm to your neck, his fingers curling around you while his thumb caressed your jaw as he forced you to look at him.

“Do you want that?” He spoke lowly, with a dark fray in his voice that sent cold chills down your spine and searing heat through your blood. “Do you want me to teach you how to kill a man?”

Did you? Knowing Vigilante had killed the man that hurt you felt like enough when it happened. But now, as he offered to teach you how to take the rest of your revenge yourself? You had never been particularly prone to violence, but as Vigilante dangled the option in front of you, you wanted nothing more than to reach for it. Would it be enough to simply stand back and watch?

As you were lost in your thoughts, his fingers tightened around your neck, his thumb pressed harder against your chin, forcing your mouth to hang open. You were still shaking in his arms, your breath shallow and chest heaving against his. As you looked into his eyes, the soft green that you loved seemed to somehow flash the same red as his Vigilante visor.

He continued to draw your mouth closer to his, “fuck. I bet you’d look so hot covered in someone else’s blood.”

You let out a needy whine of an answer, a quiet single syllable before his lips were on yours, tongue pushing into your mouth in a heated kiss. You could only cling to him, cling to his warmth, to the safety he provided, to the vengeance he offered.

Adrian pulled away with a mix of a quiet growl and a moan, his thumb running heated lines down your jaw to your neck as he stared into your eyes and smiled. He wasn’t at all surprised by your answer, and he was more than happy to oblige.

All too soon his lust filled gaze softened and his hand dropped from your neck to hold your hand again. "Alright, let's get you an Icee."

You couldn’t help the giggle that burst from your chest and the smile that pulled at your face. You were reminded again of how he always did that, no matter what, he always found a way to make you smile. "Yay!"

Adrian grinned as he let you pull him at a fast pace to the theater so you could get your snacks. After all, he loved you.

[ellana-ravenwood]

“You’re not my real mom !” - Batkids x Fem!Reader (Batmom)

Synopsis : A story about those few dreaded words : “You’re not my real mom”, said by the batkids, to you, in a the heat of a moment. And the aftermath of it all... 

This has been in my draft for ages. I hope you like it :) : 

my masterlists : @ella-ravenwood-archives

__________________________________________________

DICK 

It happened so fast. In a quick moment of anger. 

A flash, a bang, words said too quickly to truly realize their meaning. 

Dick was frustrated because he felt you didn’t understand him, his point of view. And you were trying to explain to him that it was not okay to...

You know what ? 

You couldn’t even remember what he did. As if whatever it was, it was all wiped out of your memory when he pronounced those bone chilling words. 

You only remembered you were “scolding” him, just like parents do when their child did something he wasn’t supposed to. You rarely told Dick off, even when he would burst into fits of anger. 

You always told him : “When you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son, I love all of you.” 

And you meant it. Often, you or Bruce would take the brunt of his anger, without batting an eye. After all, that child went through a lot. It was totally normal for him to lash out at times. 

He saw his parents died right in front of him. It wasn’t a trauma that would be solved that fast (Bruce was proof of it). “The magic of love” couldn't simply cure someone who was so deeply hurt. Although it helped, over time. 

Yes. Time. 

It would take time, and support, for Dick to heal. And you were here for it. Here for him. 

But there were times, you had to say something. 

Usually, it was when he was being too reckless. 

Your son could be overzealous, and go too far. And you were so worried about his safety and wellbeing...Very rarely, you’d have to “scold” him. 

And you couldn’t even remember what you were lecturing him about that evening (even if you had an idea it was about being a little more careful). All you remembered was...

“You’re not even my real mom ! You can’t tell me anything !” 

And him turning away from you, crossing his arms and refusing to look your way. Which was good anyway, because you were an instant mess. 

“Ok”, you managed to say, wondering how the hell you were able to get the words out. And then you left. Feeling the tears welling up in your eyes. And your heart slowly breaking. 

Bruce found you two later, both clearly feeling down... 

Dick stayed quiet the entire time they were on patrol, and Bruce instantly knew something was wrong. He wasn’t there during your fight, and he only arrived when you were already gone, surprised that you went to bed so early in the night, and didn’t stay with your son downstairs until it was time for patrol... 

The man didn’t push the boy, waiting for him to open up if he wanted to. And as usual, Dick did finally speak up. In a weak voice, as they were surveying the city from a rooftop, he said :

“I told her she wasn’t my real mom...” 

“Ah.” 

Bruce felt the urge to go back home and console you, knowing that you were certainly a mess, right now. But he had to take care of his boy, too. 

And oh, oh Dick looked so crestfallen and sad as the meaning of his words slowly etched into his mind. 

“I told her she wasn’t-she wasn’t-but she is I just-I-I don’t know why I said that-I...” 

The little one was on the verge of tears, and Bruce understood why. 

He probably understood more than anyone else. 

He told Alfred “You’re not my dad !” more than once, and remembered how even the stoic butler looked, whenever he said it. 

He remembered the hurt in his eyes, the resignation too. The “very well sir”, said in a neutral manner, but the stiff way he’d left the room. 

It took Bruce a while, to finally realize that Alfred WAS his father. That he raised him, most definitely. And was always there for him during the hard times. 

That he even helped and supported him, when he came back after disappearing for years, saying : “I’m going to dress up as a bat and wipe crimes from Gotham”. ...How many parents would be that understanding, eh ? 

Alfred knew Bruce. And always tried to do his best for him. So whenever Bruce would yell at him that he “wasn’t his father”, it hurt. 

Bruce knew it. He noticed how Alfred’s entire demeanor would change. He’d see a light go out in his eyes. 

“Very well, sir.”, a small bow, and the stiffness of his body as he left...

And Bruce remembered. 

The guilt and the pain he felt himself, as he regretted ever saying those words. As he knew they were going to hurt, which is why he said them in the first place.

It wasn’t that he wanted to hurt his adopted father, oh no. It was that sometimes he just...He just felt so angry ! Like everything was unfair ! And he missed his parents so much ! 

It was a force stronger than him, he wanted Alfred to leave him alone, and pushed him away...”You’re not my dad !”. So yes. Bruce understood little Dickie. He understood you, too. He knew how you must’ve felt, he saw it enough happening to Alfred. 

Once you’d get home, he would take care of you. But right now, he had to care for his son. 

Right here, on one of Gotham’s rooftop, the scary and mighty Batman slowly kneeled down, and took his boy in his arms, holding him tightly. 

Dick didn’t need more to throw his arms around his father’s shoulders, and hold him strongly too, with all his nine years old strength, sobbing slowly. 

Bruce drew soothing circles on his back, and whispered : 

“It’s ok, it’s going to be ok. It’s ok. Calm down, things are going to be ok.” 

Your husband lost count of the time passing. Were they there, holding each others while Dick was sobbing uncontrollably, for ten minutes, or for ten hours ? He didn’t know. And he didn’t budge.  

His son needed him. Just like once, he needed Alfred... 

Dick fell asleep in his arms, and that night, Bruce came home early. 

Not like he was going to stay out anyway, knowing you were probably devastated, all alone in your room... 

************

Dick fell into a deep sleep, and didn’t budge one bit even as Bruce came down the building, rode home, and put him into bed. 

Bruce’s guess was that all the pent up feelings truly exhausted him. Also, he knew that crying could be tiring. And freeing, in a way. 

Putting the boy’s blanket all the way up to his chin, Bruce laid a kiss on his forehead and then rushed to your shared bedroom... 

You had cried too, but you were not asleep. 

Your eyes were puffy and red, and your cheeks marked with your tears. You seemed surprised, when he came in, and looked at the clock. 

It was only midnight ? 

“Hello, my love.” 

He sat down next to you, and from the way he ran his fingers through your hair, and caressed your cheek, wiping the salty tears from it...You knew he knew.

He knew how devastated you felt. How those simple words that would mean nothing for many, truly wounded you. 

He knew how much you loved that boy, how as soon as your eyes laid on his little face that terrible night he lost his parents, you felt like he was going to be your son one day. 

He knew how much you’d sacrifice for that kid’s happiness, how far you’d go to keep him safe...And so, how hurtful him telling you you weren’t his real mother must’ve felt.  

There was no need for words. 

He knew what to do. He laid next to you, and you just cuddled up to him, letting him wrap you up in his warm embrace. 

He drew those same soothing circles on your back than he did on Dick’s. And whispered : 

“He didn’t mean it. He truly didn’t. He loves you, you know. I love you too.” 

You fell asleep to his words of love and reassurance, finally letting go after hours of not being able to sleep, reenacting the terrible scene in your head over and over again, making yourself feel worst each times. 

************

You woke up around 4 am, with Bruce’s arms wrapped around you.  

He was asleep and escaping his grasp (without Alfred’s help) took you a little bit..but you managed to leave without waking him up. 

He did groan a little at the loss of your warmth, and grabbed your pillow to hold it against his chest. Which was extremely cute, and oh how glad you were to be the only one to see this side of him. 

You went down to the kitchen and... 

Dick was coming from the other door, opposite to the one you took.

The kitchen had three access. Two doors facing each others, and one on the third wall. The door you took was because you got a little lost and did a detour through the drawing room. Dick, however, came from the door you should’ve come from too, which was the one you accessed from the West Wing third corridors, which was directly under your bedroom, and Dick’s. 

The boy probably stood up a little after you, and while you got lost in your own home (again), he took the normal way and...

Boom. Here you both were, arriving in the kitchen at the same time. 

There was a small silence. Awkward. And...

Your heart tightened. 

Dick was sort of cowering backward in fear. Fear of what ? 

Oh. But of course. 

“He didn’t mean it.” 

Bruce whispered to you many times, before you fell asleep. And the way Dick looked at you, worry in his eyes...He was thinking you were mad at him. And the regret in his pupils was as obvious as that fact. 

“Ice cream ?” 

You ask him. His eyes widen a bit, and you can almost see the gears in his brain trying to piece everything together. You’re...not mad at him ? 

Of course you’re not. You felt sad, and lost, and hurt, yes. But never did you feel any hint of anger. Of course not. 

You take out his favorite flavor from the freezer, and settle a bowl in front of one of the high stool around the counter. 

At that time, Dick was so tiny. A very short little bean. And he’d stay small for a long time, only having a sudden spurt when he was around fifteen. 

He climbed onto the stool, and watched you as you gave him some ice cream and a spoon, and then sat down next to him to eat some as well. 

The silent was slowly turning less awkward. 

Slowly, and unsurely, Dick picked his spoon up and looked at you. And completely missed his mouth, the ice cream spreading on his cheek instead. 

You turn around to look at him, ice cream on his cheek, and he’s clearly embarrassed, as a tint of color slowly rises on his face. 

You don’t really know why, but something snaps in you and you start laughing. And laughing. And laughing. 

Because honestly, the kid missing his mouth as he picked his spoon up full of ice cream, is kinda funny right ? And also, all the tension and stress you felt suddenly broke with this simple, silly thing. 

Unsure at first, Dick just looked at you. But your laughter quickly spread to him, and soon enough, you both were bursting out in laughter. 

Anyone not knowing what happened, would probably think you were both crazy, laughing that hard for no apparent reasons. 

Instinctually, you ruffle his hair and Dick gasps. You really weren’t mad at him ?!

You realized what you did, and slowly, both your laughter subsided. There was a small silence as Dick stared at you, and you stared back, and then : 

“I’m-I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I didn’t mean it !” 

He says in a small voice, and he can’t add anything else as you just pick him up and hold him tight against your heart, and you say : 

“I know.” 

And it’s all he needs to realize you’re not really mad at him, and although he messed up and hurt you, right now, you were both on the path of recovery... 

Next morning, Bruce woke up alone in bed, which greatly distressed him as usual (he often woke up first). But a gut feeling was telling him that...

He found you asleep with Dick in his bed, holding him tightly. 

************

After that event, you sat down with him, so you could have a serious talk about the underlining issue this raised. Talk about something important. 

“Little bird, you know I love you, right ?” 

He nods, but still cannot speak quite yet, doesn’t have the energy to. 

“I want you to understand something. Something vital. Are you listening ?” 

He nods again, his eyes fixed on you. And he’s listening, oh he definitely is. 

“It’s ok to be angry. It’s ok to lash out. It’s ok to not be alright. It’s ok to make mistakes.” 

He nods, a little slower than before, and you can see his eyes slowly becoming wetter and wetter. 

“It’s ok. It really is. I’m here. And I love you. Even when you don’t want me around. Even when you push me away. I’m here. And I always will be. Ok ?” 

He nods one last time, unable to hold his tears, and then his little arms latch around you, and he refuses to let go for well over an hour...

Oh. Sweet, sweet boy. 

Your son. 

************

Even now, at age twenty seven, Dick still often think about this day. And the regrets are as burning as they were back then. 

He often thought about it. 

Whenever you did something for him, went out of your way to make him happy, or were just there for him, always...

He’d have a flashback of this day, and feel nothing but regret and anger at his younger self. 

And then you’d read him like an open book. Know exactly what he was thinking, and would slowly shake your head, and say : “I know I often said that, but I will say it till the day I die if I need to :  when you came into my life, you changed everything. And I love all of you little bird. Not just when you’re joking around and smiling. But also when you get angry, and lash out. You are my son. I love all of you. Even when you’re a little bit of a jerk.” and you’d wink at him, making him chuckle and feel a surge of affection toward you. 

Kind of like the ones you’d feel sometimes. A sudden urge to hug your family, to tell them what they mean to you. Both you and Dick understood since a long time that with the life you all lead, you never knew what could happen, and should never waste a “I love you” if you felt like saying it. 

Well, the apple never fall far from the tree ? 

Yes. Because you were his mom. And nothing would ever change his mind on that. Ever. 

JASON 

"Well Jason, you did it you idiot !” 

He says to himself in the mirror, and oh he could’ve punch himself if it was possible. He took his desk chair, and threw it across his bedroom, letting out a scream of frustration. 

He went to his desk, and threw everything that was on it on the floor. He then went to his book shelves and...

There. Your book. The one you wrote for him. 

Jason fell to his knee, holding his head in his hands, crying softly. 

Yes. Yes he did it...He ruined this one chance life gave him to have parents. 

He hurt one of the person that meant the most to him, one of the person he loved the most...His mom. You. 

Because you were his mom, no matter what he told you, in that moment of anger as you scolded him after he did something dangerous during one of his patrol. 

He hadn’t been allowed to go out for long, by then. And Bruce had already scolded him before for the very same thing, so when you did it too, he had enough and...it happened before he could think about it. 

He was angry, about the lack of trust and about the sermons, and his brain tried to hurt without even thinking about it. Triggered by years of living in the streets, where he had to think quick and act right away, and then suffer the consequences. If he wasn’t fast enough, it could be the end of him... 

A gut reaction triggered by years of being all on his own, having to fend for himself. His brain went into overdrive, “hurt” is what it set into motion. 

“You’re not my mom !” 

And that was it...

As he saw your face fell, and his father’s face turn angry, he knew. He knew he messed up. He messed everything up, as usual !

“Jason !” 

Bruce called, but Jason wasn’t about to stop. He ran out of the cave, right to his bedroom. Oh, oh but if only he stayed a little longer. He’d realize that his father wasn’t angry, just hurt as well. 

Hurt to see the woman he loved being hurt. 

Not angry. Ah but being in pain could sometimes look like you are mad ? And Bruce hadn't been able to hide his frown as he heard Jason’s words... 

“Let him be, Bruce.” 

You say in a weak voice. You knew Jason, you knew sometimes he needed to cool down on his own. That he could be impulsive, but always came around. 

Ah. But that time, he needed everything but to be alone. 

Because, as he thought he ruined his one chance at having a real family, he thought... 

“Better to leave before they throw me away !” 

He knew he could never bear to face you and Bruce, as you’d certainly tell him you were “un-adopting” him. Jason saw it happened before. Someone thinking their adopted kid was “too much”, and sending them back. 

It was awful, of course. But it happened. For real. And Jason knew that life could really suck...But her couldn’t bear to face you as you’d send him away. 

Worst, what if you just send Alfred and that was it ?

No. Jason would leave before you could do that. He couldn’t bear it. He couldn’t. 

Filling his backpack with some clothes, and snacks, he opened his window and slid down the gutter all the way to the ground, and then ran away into the night. Tears trailing down behind him, as he left behind the one place in which he ever felt safe, warm, and loved. 

In the meantime, you and Bruce were unaware of that, and slowly falling asleep in each others’ arms... As usual, Bruce was there for you. 

************

“Jason ? I thought I wouldn’t see you anymore after you got adopted by dem fancy fellas. Are you here to get some work ?” 

“No.” 

“Really, why did you come then ?” 

“I didn’t, I’m just passing by.” 

“Nah, don’t believe it. Once a bad boy, always a bad boy !” 

“TAKE IT BACK !” 

As he ran away, Jason went back to a place he thought he never would need to. A few intricate alleys, in the Bowery, under the main city. 

The Bowery, a filthy underground neighborhood, hell on Earth for many. Although things did improve when Batman started his work a few years back. 

“Wow there tiger, relax.” 

Jason came in this specific area for only one thing. Retrieve a few items he left behind, thinking he would never need it again because he was leaving behind this life. 

He had a hideout, not far. In which he hid some materials to survive in the streets. He thought he probably had to go back to stealing cars’ tires...Although maybe he should change it. Thinking of what happened last time he did this hurt his heart. 

He knew that next time he’d get caught stealing tires, the person wouldn’t end up adopting him...Anyway, he didn’t want any other parents but you and Bruce. 

And he messed that up so bad, by being so mean to you ! 

“Listen, it’s not because you got all fancy schmancy that you can talk to me like that. Remember who’s boss in this part of town.” 

Batman did a lot of good to the city, but also, by getting rid of some big players in the “crime business”, he allowed small time thugs to climb up the ladders...It felt, at times, like there always was someone to replace whoever Bruce just put behind bars... 

The man who was talking to Jason, used to be a small time criminal. Turned boss, when the Batman kept arresting all the people above him. Jason used to “work” for him, bringing him watches or jewelry that he’d exchange against cash. 

Damn. He never thought he’d ever see him again... Oh and he definitely didn’t think this through. 

As the new boss, who’s name was Johnny Clancy, told him that he’d forever be a “bad boy”, Jason saw red and...getting mad at a crime boss was a bad idea. 

Before he could even think about an escape plan, Jason was surrounded by dangerous armed men. 

“How dare you talk to me like that ? Mmm. The Waynes adopted you right ? Mmm. They’re loaded. Probably would pay a fortune to get you back uh ? And to think they’re gonna give me a lot of cash to get a little runaway brat back haha. Because that’s what you did right ? You ran away ? As you always did before mm ? You know, I observed you Jason Todd. I saw you run away from anyone getting close. I saw you.” 

Jason’s heart didn’t need anyone to push and squiggle the knife he felt in around some more. He had just lost his family. Did he need more reminder that he always fucked up ?! 

“They won’t give you any money, they don’t want me anymore...” 

But Johnny didn’t believe him, of course. He told two of his thugs to grab the boy, but Jason, by instinct, dropped them to the floor with a few well placed kicks and punches. 

And that was enough to unleash Johnny Clancy’s wrath.

See, he was a new boss. He had to assert dominance. And an eight years old kid making a fool of him and his gang ? That wouldn’t go. 

So what if he had to off a child ? Anything to keep climbing up, and leave the Bowery’s slums. 

************

“Have you seen Jason ?” 

Bruce asks you, a few hours after your fight with him. 

“What ? No, I thought he was with you ?”

“No, he skipped his training and I thought he might be with you, apologizing for what he said yesterday ? You know, sounds like something he would do.” 

“I haven’t seen him since, you know. I thought he was avoiding me...” 

“He would never.” 

“Bruce...” 

“He would never, my love. I know what he said hurt you, but I’m sure he’s regretting it right now. You should go see him, he’s probably sulking in his bedroom. I wouldn’t be surprised if you meet him up the stairs as he comes down to say sorry.” 

“Bruce...” 

Your husband comes to you, and takes your hands in his. 

“You know him. He’s impulsive, and a little abrasive sometimes. But he’s a sweet child. And he regrets his bursts, you know it. Tonight was just tough, we both scolded him, he’s not used to it.” 

“You’re right.” 

“Of course I am, I’m-”

“I swear to God if you say “I’m Batman” I’m going to smack you.” 

Bruce smiles softly at you, glad he managed to at least made the tension go away a little. He pecks your lips quickly, and watches you as you leave to go to your son’s bedroom. 

He was about to go down the Batcave, when you came back, panicked : 

“He’s gone ! Jason’s gone !” 

Ah. Bruce knew that placing a tracker in his children’s molars was a good idea. 

************

“HOW HARD IS IT TO CATCH A FUCKING KID ?!” 

Jason runs as fast as he can, without looking back. He managed to break the line of thugs coming at him, and escape in-between to of them who didn’t pull their guns out quite yet. 

They were shooting at him. With no hesitation. 

Johnny was set on proving he was an unscrupulous boss. To earn everyone’s respect. So what if he had to shoot a kid ? It’d send everyone a message. He’d back off from nothing ! 

Jason turned in an alley and...Damn it ! He must’ve taken a wrong turn at some point, it had been a while, since he roamed the Bowery’s alleyways...

He was faced by a wall, stuck. And they quickly caught up to him. 

“Wooouh, you’re fast kid. And you’re sneaky. Too bad you’re such a brat, I bet you could be a nice addition to our-”

Johnny Clancy never finished his sentence. In fact, he never could properly speak after that night. After getting his jaw broken into a thousand pieces by the Batman’s fist. 

Bruce had come down from nowhere, with...you in his arms ?! 

This was the first time Jason saw you wear the costume he saw a few times in the Batcave. He thought you wore it only to go to the JLA’s watchtower, to hide your identity. Not that you could actually...fight ?! 

And wow, you definitely could hold your own ! You made a few disarming pass, taking the guns away from all the men before they could even react, and letting Bruce finish them off with well placed kicks and punches. 

Oh and that night, the Batman unleashed his rage and unforgiveness full force. How dare they touch his son ?! 

You didn’t have anything to envy from your husband either, however, as you worked through Johnny’s gang rather fast too. 

That night, the both of you exterminated (figure of speech, of course, neither of you ever killed, that was the one big rule...but there were never a rule against breaking a few bones) Johnny Clancy’s gang, who dared to even think of hurting your precious son. 

Jason, holding his backpack tight against him, couldn’t believe his eyes. You two came to save him ? But...why ? 

He messed up. You’d surely not want him around anymore ! 

Once Bruce dropped the last man, you rushed to Jason and before he could utter a sound, took him in your arms. 

“Oh my god, I’m so glad you’re safe baby, I’m so glad you’re...” 

Your voice broke at the end, and you chocked, the emotions too strong and squeezing your throat. 

Jason didn’t understand. And through his surprise, he managed to say : 

“I thought-I thought you’d never want to see me again, and that you wouldn’t want to be my mom anymore.” 

You hold him even tighter, as you feel Bruce get down on his knee and bring the both of you in his arms. 

“Oh sweety, never. Never.” 

You say, not letting go. 

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry...” 

Your son manage to choke out, before sobbing profusely and holding on to you and Bruce. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe...it’s ok, it’s ok it’s already forgotten...” 

And it was. As soon as you saw that Jason-That your SON, was missing, you forgot he ever told you “you’re not my mom”. You forgot and it truly didn’t matter anymore, as all you cared about was to find him, and make sure he was safe. 

“Jason, oh my little Jason, I’m so glad you’re safe...”

Wether it is a conscious things or not, he returns your embrace fiercely, holding tightly as he looks up at you. It almost feels like he wants to make sure you really are there. And won’t go anywhere. Like everyone else did in his life. 

Jason was tired of losing those close to him. Those he cared about. Sometimes, he’d push them away, by fear of getting attached again just for life to rip them away from him. So he held onto you, as you held him back. 

Tightly against your heart. 

“Mom...” 

This was the day Jason Todd realized something very important : He wasn’t alone anymore. He had parents who loved him, and he loved them back. 

So much. 

And they’d never let him go. Never. 

************

Years later, this love he had for you and Bruce, turned out to be the very reason he became “Red Hood”. 

From that day he told you : “you’re not my real mom !”, he felt like he belonged. Like finally, the people he loved loved him back. Like he was cherished. And then Bruce didn’t avenge him. He let Joker get away. And you let him do it. You, the people he trusted and loved most in the world, betrayed him...

He felt like he wasn’t worth it. He wasn’t worth Bruce breaking his one rule to avenge him. He wasn’t worth it...He didn’t matter enough. 

Jason felt so angry. For years. He wanted to hurt you, to hurt Bruce. To show you what it felt like. What HE felt like. 

But Jason has always been a strong one. You knew it. You told him enough times : “you’re a fighter, my Jason. You went through so much, and always came out of it. You lost a lot on the way my little one, but you never give up. You never give up...” 

You never give up. 

Love. 

It’s what drove him to become the Red Hood. It’s what drove him over the edge. What gave him so much pain. 

Rather, the feeling of not being loved. The thought all you and Bruce said to him, about how much you cared and loved him, was a lie. 

Yes. The thought that you lied about loving him, is what broke him. What made him find every way possible to truly, truly hurt you two.

You never give up. 

He was so angry. But he never could quite give up on his family...that’s why he didn’t stay with the Al’ghuls. That why they didn’t keep him. 

He could never forget you and Bruce. Move on. 

He could never. 

Jason was a strong lad. Strong enough to see past his hate and need of revenge. His pain. His deep trauma. 

It took a while. But the change came from him. He’s the one that gave you another chance. And it allowed him to realize...nothing was a lie.

And you got your son back.

Because you showed him. You showed him nothing was a lie.

When his dad never gave up on him even as he killed more and more people, and even as Jason saw him completely erase people who used to be close from him as soon as they killed once. When you refused to let him go. When Bruce kept going back, even as he knew Jason would fight him and try to hurt him. When you pleaded with him, even when you knew his answer would be the same... 

Jason never gave up. 

But you didn’t either. 

“You’re not my mom”, are words he never meant. Not even once. Not even when he was the “old” Red Hood, the one that killed mercilessly any criminals, and that was trying to be exactly what Batman wasn’t. 

“You’re not my mom”, even at his worst, at a time he suffered greatly, Jason never meant it. He never did. 

And ultimately, it’s this filial love, and the love you and Bruce had for him, that brought him back out of the dark pit the Joker pushed him in...

TIM 

Tim knew that his overly pragmatic mind sometimes could make him sound tactless. That he had trouble, sometimes, expressing himself properly. 

He knew that what he said, although it could be the factual truth, could be perceived as not being very nice... 

He knew, yet sometimes, he couldn’t help himself. 

“But you’re not my mom.” 

He told you that day, as you asked when was the “mother/child day” at school. 

Tim’s school had a day each year, during which every mother would come and do different activities with their kids. You did it with Dick and Jason, and it was always great fun, and amazing bonding time. 

By then, Tim had been with you and Bruce for over a year now. And he did, see you as his mom. However, he was a little too set, at the time, on rules and specifics. In the “mother/child day” rulebook, it “specifically” said that the actual child’s mother had to come, not the nanny or anyone else. 

In Tim’s mind, although he did see you as his mom, he thought the school wouldn’t. For him, the way the rules were written, were clearly stating his birth mother had to come. And the official adoption papers were not processed yet. Those took quite a while. 

He had been living with you for over a year. He called you and Bruce “mom and dad”. He truly considered you two his parents. But the official papers were not done quite yet. So to him, in the eye of the law (be it a silly school rule), you weren’t his mom quite yet. 

So when he said : “but you’re not my mom”, that’s what he meant. Of course, you misunderstood...

How could you guess that Tim was thinking that only his “birth mother” could take him, because officially right now he didn’t have a mom, just “guardians”...

His mother was dead. Has been dead for a while, now. And even if she wasn’t, Tim knew she’d never come at this event...She wasn’t the caring type of mother. Not like you. Which is why it really bummed him out that those rules were so clearly stated like that !

What Tim misunderstood, is that this specific rule had been added to the rulebook because many family would send their nanny, or a big sister, instead of the mom. Because Tim was of course in Gotham’s Academy, full of rich families, in which the moms were very busy...

Which is why such a day existed. Some kids spend quality times with their mom only on this school day. Nowadays, everyone made an effort to come (the fact you appeared, the famed (Y/N) Wayne, a few years back, with Dick, and it made all the papers’ headlines, might’ve influenced others to participate too).

To tell the truth, Tim was very disappointed that you couldn’t go with him, and was considering asking the principle of the school to do an exception to the rule and allow you to go with him.  

He was already fomenting a plan in his head to convince the headmaster to let you come as his mom, and as usual when he was planning things out, he completely disconnected from reality. 

And therefor, didn’t see how your face “closed”, and your eyes turned sad. The boy was typing away on his computer, as if nothing had just happened, as if you didn’t feel your world crumble as he flat out told you you weren’t his mom...

Of course, it was all a misunderstanding. He meant it as “officially”. Not about his actual feelings. 

For some reason, the way he said it so nonchalantly hurts you more than when Dick and Jason yelled at you that you “weren't their mom”. Because at least, in your eldests’ cases, you knew it was in the heat of the moment. 

That it was because they felt frustrated and sad. 

But Tim just told you : “But you’re not my mom.” matter of factly, and moved on. And it hurt. 

It hurt so much, because that boy...You loved that boy, of course. And considered him your son for sure. Part of your heart, now. Part of your family. And he felt so far, right now...so far... 

You left the room and he didn’t even notice. 

Did he really not see you as his mom ? Was he just calling you “mom” to imitate his brothers ? ...You didn’t know, but it hurt. 

It hurt so much. 

************

You found Bruce in his office, doing some paperworks for Wayne Inc. When he saw your face, he immediately smiled, your presence lighting his whole world...But then he saw your expression, and he frowned. 

“What happened ?” 

************

“Mom ? MooOOooom ?” 

Tim had been looking for you for the past hour, but wasn’t able to find you. You weren't in all your favorite places ! Did you leave the Manor without telling him ? It was unlike you. 

Finally, he found you. You were in a room that was rarely used, but which was conveniently close to Bruce’s office, and had a couch. 

Laying on top of your husband, you were fast asleep as Bruce was going through his paperworks, letting you holding onto his waist as he kept working. 

When he saw the boy come in the room, he smiled at him. And it was hard, not to smile at Tim, seeing his own big wide smile. 

Tim was missing a few teeth, that fell not long ago, and it was absolutely the cutest, when he smiled widely. He looked so happy, eyes sparkly and genuine smile. It felt wrong to Bruce, to think that this sweet boy didn’t see you as his mom...

Maybe it was all a misunderstanding ? Wouldn’t be the first time. Although, Bruce knew how sometimes Tim could be brutally honest, and say the facts in a matter of factly way that could be very harsh on the uninitiated. 

Your son was holding a cardboard sheet almost as big as him, and looked very excited about something. He slowly approached you two, and said, whispering, yet the excitement was clear in his voice : 

“Has she been asleep for long, dad ?!” 

He called Bruce dad. Without an hesitation. And it felt so genuine. Like he was relishing in the word rolling off of his tongue. And it was often the case, with Tim. His parents, when they were still alive, never really noticed his presence... 

And sometimes, it could be even worst to have parents who acted as if you didn’t exist, than caring parents who passed away. Bruce realized this. 

“No, she just closed her eyes.” 

Bruce answers, looking at you. And oh he couldn’t possibly know how soft his expressions as as he gazed at your sleeping face. 

“Oh...” 

Tim was clearly disappointed. His shoulders fell down, and he looked on the floor, looking defeated.

“What is it, champ ?” 

“Well, I wanted her to-Oh ! Mom !” 

The rumbling of your husband’s chest as he spoke is what woke you up. Not the actual sound of their voices, just that low vibrations reverberating in his chest. 

You opened one eye, then the second, and was greeted by your youngest son’s face being very close to you. As Tim saw you were waking up, he kneeled down next to the couch, settling his piece of cardboard next to him, and approached you very closely. 

His smile and sweet expression filled your vision. And you felt even more hurt, as you saw him so happy to see you, to know he didn’t really think you were his mom. 

It was clear he cared for you. And loved you, and being with you. But to him...You weren’t his mom. And that was so painful. 

“I got a plan mom, I got a plan !” 

A...Plan ? For what ? You don’t even have time to ask him, and, still a little hazy as you just woke up from a short nap (that you took after crying exhausted you), you raise a little from your husband. 

You exchange a curious look with him, as you see Tim spring to his feet and get a hold of the piece of cardboard that is almost as tall and large as him. 

He turns it around and...

Your heart drops. 

It’s a lot of very detailed drawings, maps and words about...about...

“This is how we’re going to convince the headmaster of my school that you’re really my mom, even if officially you’re not yet !! I thought we could start with logic first, and then go down the path of pathos if he really doesn’t change his mind !” 

What ? Your brain is trying really hard to comprehend what’s happening, although it is starting to put two and two together. 

“The rules say that the mom HAS to be the one who comes, and the way they wrote it suggest that they wouldn’t accept someone who isn’t yet official. But I think we could convince that, in our heart, we’re already an official family, right ?!” 

Tim looks at you, and then at his dad, a little worry in his eyes (what if for them, he wasn’t their son yet because the paperworks weren’t finished and officials quite yet ?!?!). Bruce cannot help but smile, and nods, feeling his heart melt (a rare occurrence). 

And you. You have exactly the reaction he expected you’d have. You sit up, put the cardboard aside, and drag your son into a tight hug that makes him giggle and exclaim : 

“Hahaha mom wait I can’t breaaaathe !! Mom !!” 

But he hugs you back, knowing that this means yes, you do consider him your son already, paperworks or not, and you will probably follow his plan to convince the school to-

“Mom ? Why are you crying ? Mom ?” 

You can’t explain it to him. You feel silly, but also so emotional and touched. You thought he didn’t think of you as his mom. But he did. Oh he did, and was actually worried about technicalities of rules and...So sweet. That boy is so sweet. 

Carefully, Tim dries your tears, and look curiously at his dad, his eyes clearly asking : “Did I do something wrong ?”

You’re still unable to speak, as you hold onto him, and Bruce ruffles his son’s hair saying : 

“She’s just too happy, champ. She’s just too happy.” 

CASSANDRA

"You, not my mom !” 

She screamed. You never heard Cass raised her voice before. And yet, here, she screamed at you. And then closed her bedroom door right on your nose. 

And you felt it in your heart. That specific pain that you wished you’d never feel again. That kind of hurt you wished you’d never feel ever again. 

It happened just liked it did with Dick and Jason. You were “lecturing” her about putting herself in needless danger, and she felt frustrated at the fact you “didn’t trust her”. 

It wasn’t true of course. You did trust her. And you knew she could hold her own. Didn’t mean you wouldn’t worry, and scold her if she really scared you... 

It was pure instinct. You couldn’t stop yourself from telling them off when you felt they went too far. You did it with Bruce too. 

Once, he threw himself in the way of a bullet to save you, and once he recovered enough...Oh you were so mad at him. 

It’s not that you wanted to take that bullet, of course. You knew it was also instinct that made him move to save you. But in truth, you would rather take a thousand bullet than lose any of them. Bruce, or your children. 

And sometimes, it was hard for them to understand this. To get why you were so worried, when you accepted fully their night activities. 

Why you monitored the batcomputer, if it was to scold them when they put themselves in danger ? 

Ah but they didn’t understand that you only got “mad” when they put themselves in NEEDLESS danger. Pushing themselves too far that one night, being careless with something, ignoring their own safety to finish a task... 

You couldn’t help but be afraid. And your fear turned into you scolding them. And sometimes, on each sides, things boiled and...

“You, not my mom !” 

The meaning was clear. As Cass slammed her door right in your face, you knew not to push it further, not to tell her anything more. 

Maybe you should’ve ? Should’ve open her door, and continue lecturing her so she’d understand her life was valuable ? 

Cass put herself in danger more than any other member of your family, because she was raised as a weapon and thought of herself as an “expendable”. You weren’t mad at her for this, of course not (but oh, David Cain probably should never cross your path, it wasn’t pretty, when you were truly angry). 

You were just worried. And unfortunately, being a parent was complicated and sometimes, your worry turned a little overbearing for your kids. 

This was a mistake every normal caring parents made. Wanting what was best for their children, sometimes not realizing they’re going too far. And you ? Your family wasn’t normal. 

Your children were vigilantes. Your worries were tuned up to the max.  

Being a parent was hard. And sometimes, both you and your kids were frustrated. It happened. In any family. 

It was resolved rather fast, most of the time. A little conversation, understanding and indulgence, and boom. Sorted. 

However, there were times when things would go a little too far. Wether because one of you was tired, or didn’t feel well etc etc...

Tonight, was such a time. 

“You, not my mom !” 

Cass didn’t even register what she said. She was just mad and frustrated, and said the first thing that came into her mind. Her hand slammed the door shut before she could even think about it. 

And here you were. In the corridor. In front of your daughter’s door. 

Hurt. And feeling as devastated as you did when her brothers told you the same thing. You would think, after a few times of this happening, it’d be easier, right ? Well. No. It wasn’t. It really wasn’t. 

As usual in those instances, you went to seek comfort in the arms of your husband. 

************

Cassandra didn’t feel ok. 

In fact, she felt absolutely terrible. 

She couldn’t even remember the last time she felt that bad. 

When she went to look for you and apologize for her behavior, she found you in her dad’s arms, crying, and it made her run away...

She couldn’t face you, knowing she truly hurt you like that. 

The worst thing is, she knew she would hurt you by saying those words. Yet she still did it. It was as if she couldn’t control herself. It was like an ugly force took over her, and made her say those words. 

But she knew. She knew she’s the one who ultimately decided to say them. She’s the one that pronounced them. Under the anger. 

Anger. 

The ugly force. 

She turned around in her bed, holding onto the plush toy you gave her shortly after her arrival. You said “every child should have one” and that this one made you think of her. 

It was a fox with bright colors. And it still smelled like you. 

She was about to fall asleep, when she heard a knock on her door. 

“Can we come in ?” 

It was her older brothers. 

Dick, Jason and Tim. 

It was rare, to have them all in the same place nowadays, what with how busy they all were. Dick with Bludhäven, Jason with the gods only knew what really (the gods, and you and Bruce...but sshhh, that’s a secret), and Tim with college applications. 

So Cass immediately understood that they heard about the fight she had with their mom. 

And she felt a rush of shame come over her. She felt sad too, because maybe they’d be mad at her ?

Cassandra didn’t think she could bear to break your heart, and have her precious brothers mad at her all in the same day. 

She almost told them to leave. But she didn’t have the strength. 

They surrounded her, and their presence was so...soothing. 

And then they spoke. They each told her the story of the time they told their mom those few dreaded words. 

“You’re not my real mom !” 

They told her how awful they felt, and how they knew they hurt their mom. They told her that...well, they did have the best mom ever. 

You never held any grudge. Ever. Especially not against your own family. 

You never even mentioned again the fact they told you this awful thing, you never even mentioned once this, under any circumstances. 

Her brothers stayed with her for hours, talking about their feelings on the matter. Telling her it happened. That everyone wasn’t always on their best behavior...

It was hard, for Cass, to not be “good”. She did so many awful things when her biological father raised her to be a weapon, she felt like she had to catch up so much on those years of “badness”. 

She often felt like she was evil, and could never caught up to everything. Like she was doomed, and could never become good. 

On that, Jason told her she was wrong. That everyone could change, and no one was born truly evil. Environment, and the way you’re raised, matter. And what she did...wasn’t her fault. She was forced to. If she really enjoyed doing this she’d never become a Batgirl. She would never be part of this family. 

She often felt like she was a bad daughter. 

On that, Dick told her she was wrong. He too, felt like a bad son, when he “replaced” his parents with you and Bruce. He too, felt like a bad son when he would get so mad while you would do anything to make him happy. He too, felt like a bad son...on so many occasions. But he grew. And thanks to you mainly, he realized he was just human. Mistakes are human. And it’s not being a bad son, to sometimes feel so hurt that you lash out. That your trauma are so strong, things sometimes are tough. 

She often felt like she couldn’t fit in, and would never fit in. 

On that, Tim told her she was wrong. Him too, felt too different. He already had parents, they were alive, he just wanted to help, he didn’t have any friends...But in this family. In this family, everyone fitted in. Because you made it so. Bruce made it saw. You both accepted any flaws, and differences your kids might have. You loved them unconditionally, they all knew that by now. 

And Cass...Cass didn’t want to hurt you. 

They knew that, too.

It was an accident. In the heat of the moment. She didn’t mean it. Of course, you are her mom. Of course...

It felt good, to have her brothers there for her, when you couldn’t be. 

************

Later that night, after her brothers left, Cass slowly exits her room and take the known way to yours and Bruce’s. 

You are both there, and she knows her dad stayed because you felt bad. He always stayed with you, when you were feeling down. And vice versa.

Cass always told herself that, later, if she ever found a significant other, she’d want her and them to have the same kind of relationships than you. You and Bruce set up a rather high standard for whoever would come into her life. 

But that was another story. For now, she was opening the door slowly, scared of waking you up. But you were awake. 

Bruce was asleep, deeply. As usual when he felt your warmth against him. But you were not. Cass could see you slowly and absentmindedly caress your husband’s hair. It was soothing to both of you. His silky smooth dark hair were soft in between your fingers, and helped you get your mind off of the pain and focus on the sensation, while for him...Well, it put him asleep, when you did that. 

The door creaked a little, and you abruptly turned your head towards it, ready to fight and...You instantly recognize your daughter, even in the dark of the room. 

She doesn’t need to talk. You manage to roll over Bruce, who then by instinct roll too, and therefor you create a little spot for your daughter to climb in bed with you. 

You turn around in Bruce’s arms, and slowly wrap them around your middle, instead of your shoulders. You turn towards Cass, your back against Bruce’s chest, and tap the small spot you managed to create next to you. 

Cass understands, and climbs in, facing you. She lays her head on her arms, as you do the same. And then she mouthes : 

“Sorry mom...” 

And that’s all you needed. You gesture for your daughter to cuddle up close, and she does. By instinct, Bruce lets go one arm off of you, and grabs his kid to bring her closer. He is still asleep, but it wouldn’t surprise anyone that his subconscious holds onto the two most important women in his life like so. 

And there she is. Cass feels safe. And warm. And she hears your heart beat softly. And she knows it partly beats for her. 

And partly for Bruce. And partly for Dick. And partly for Jason. And Tim. And Damian. And Duke. And Alfred. 

It beats for your family. 

For her family.

Family. 

She has a family. 

And you are her mom. 

Her biological father never hugged her, never told her everything was going to be alright, never... 

Cass never felt safe and warm. 

Like she did, right now, held by both you and Bruce. 

“Family...”

She whispers, as she slowly falls asleep. And you’re the only mom she ever wants to have. You are, her real mom. Always have been, always will be. 

DAMIAN 

Damian didn’t really think this was a big deal, at first. 

Just like his father, he often made the mistake to think that people around him will simply understand his true meaning. 

When he told you : “You’re not even my real mom !”, he obviously didn’t mean it. He was angry because you told him he couldn’t go out on patrol for a few days, as he was grounded for skipping school and going to work on cases instead. 

“But school is boring, I already know everything ??” 

“It’s the principle of it, Damian. You can’t just do what you want whenever you want, this is not how it works. I don’t feel like we’re extremely strict parents, so when you betray our trusts like that, it has consequences.”

Bruce kept out of the argument, ready to jump in however if you needed him to affirm  that yes, actions have consequences and although you two are pretty lax with your son on many fronts, he still has to listen. You and Bruce made clear rules when you first adopted Dick, because you realized your lifestyle was anything but normal, but it didn’t mean your children could just do anything they wanted. 

Neither of you wanted them to turn into privileged little brats. Or to think they were above everything. And you were right, by skipping school so much, and lying about it, Damian did betray your trust. 

Understanding actions had consequences was a big step that took a while, with Damian. Unfortunately, he grew up in an environment that indeed taught him he could do whatever he wanted, no matter if he hurt people on the way... 

Unlearning all this, was tough. And you understood that. Which is why you let things go a lot, with him, and only slowly told him about things. Gradually teaching him about your values and principles. 

However sometimes, like in this case, you needed to be firm and strict, because otherwise he’d just keep doing it knowing it had no bad consequences, and you didn’t want him to simply not go to school anymore...School was important for his social development, you realized it as he made friends and...

And simply, an eleven years old kid couldn’t just roam around all day as he saw fit. That’s it. And so here you were, trying to explain this to him. And that’s when he said it. 

He scrunched up his nose like he always did when he was angry, and then, turning his head away from you, throwing his Robin boots at the back of the cave. 

“You can’t tell me what to do, you’re not even my real mom !” 

And then he bolted out of the Batcave, leaving you behind, with a broken heart and feeling guilty...What if he hates you, because you were too harsh on him ? 

Bruce, that night, did not go out on patrol either, and stayed with you. Of course, he did. 

************

The fact he still listened to you and didn’t go out, made him thought you knew he was just angry and didn’t mean a word of it. 

To him, it was so obvious he thought of you as his mom, and that he said this just because he wanted to have the last word, that he honestly didn’t think much of it. 

Sure he was frustrated and angry, just like any kid was when their parents said : “no” to them. But he didn't mean it... 

He didn’t really see you of the entire day. Finally, he decided to go see his father to ask him what was up. 

“Father ?”

“Yes ?”

“Is-is mom ok ?”

“Well, what do you think ?” 

“She doesn’t seem ok.” 

“Do you know why ?” 

“Did you do something to upset her ?” 

Normally, Bruce would feel vex at this statement. What, did he really do things to upset you that often ? Yes and now. Sometimes,  he would get on your nerve, and vice versa. It happened, in relationships.

But it was never anything major. Not anymore at least. Because now, when he had his “dark days” and could be a total jerk, you knew how to handle him. You knew not to take his bullshit. 

Yes. Normally, Bruce would pout like a child, at the fact his son thought that his mom was feeling down because of him. But not today. No. 

Because he knew that what made you sad, was something important.

Unfortunately, Damian inherited from him his bad habit of thinking others will understand his meaning. 

Like, when he tried to push you away at first so you wouldn't get involved in his crazy life, what he really wanted was for you to get closer...Or when he told you that he was fine at times, all he wanted was for you to hold him and take care of him etc etc...The first time he told you “I love you”, wasn’t with words, but by not going on patrol one night, to stay with you. And he thought you’d immediately understand that he truly loved you...Truth was, it wasn’t as obvious to you (or anyone really) than it was for him. 

And Damian had the same problem. Doing things that he thought would obviously tell his meaning, his real feelings, when really...No one but him would get it. 

Although you became quite good at deciphering your husband’s true intentions, you could still misinterpret things sometimes. 

And yesterday night, when you grounded your son and tried to teach him a life lesson...You definitely didn’t see that he didn’t mean what he said and just wanted the last word. For you, he was seriously meaning it. And that’s why you were avoiding him a little, because it was too hard to...to... 

Damian’s words truly hurt you. You often were scared he could never see you as his mom (even if he did call you mom now and clearly cared for you) because of how he grew up. You’d never give up on him, of course, but it didn’t mean it wouldn’t hurt when he pushed you away or pretended to not care... 

Damian thought it was obvious, that his actions actually reflected how much you meant to him. That without you, he’d be lost and honestly wouldn’t want to live in a world where you weren’t. 

But it wasn’t obvious. 

Bruce sighed, and then smiled : 

“Since when is she acting odd ?” 

“This morning. She didn’t kiss me goodbye when she went to work !”

It felt like such a serious issue to your boy, in that instant, that Bruce wished you were there to see his reaction. You’d instantly know he didn’t mean it, when he said you weren’t his mom... 

But you couldn’t quite face him. You didn’t really avoid him or try to hurt him by not saying goodbye. Of course not, you were an adult, and you definitely knew that doing to others what was done to you is pointless, and mean. And why hurt someone the same way they hurt you ? You’re no better than them uh... 

“Can you think of anything that might’ve upset her ?” 

“I spilled my milk a little, but cleaned it after. I didn’t let Alfred do it like last time. I woke up a minute late, too. Jason hasn’t called in two days, but he was there yesterday afternoon. Dick said she messed up her pumpkin soup but he was just joking and she knows. Tim fell asleep at the breakfast table. You clinging to her this morning apparently made her late, I heard Alfred say it. Um...Cass um...Cass didn’t do anything bad really...None of those things sound like it would upset her though ! She really looked sad this morning, not like herself at all !” 

Bruce couldn’t help but smile. It was pretty cute, how Damian often acted as if he didn’t care about anything, yet no details would ever go past him. Especially not when it came to his family. He always noticed, when one of them felt down in any way, and tried to help (in his own way). 

Hell, he probably woke Tim up and told him to sleep more and take care of himself. Called Jason and told him to call his mom. Scolded Dick to not make this kind of jokes again. 

This was just the Damian that was privy only to them. A sweet child, who unfortunately often had trouble expressing his true feelings. 

Just like his father. 

Damian would often brag about his siblings, and how awesome they were, to his friends (notably to Jon, who didn’t have any siblings). But he’d never tell them right in front of their face. 

Bruce tried to help Damian see what was wrong, and said : 

“What about last night ?” 

“Ugh ? What about last n-OH !” 

Damian replayed the events in his head, and remembered his anger and frustration. But most importantly...What he told his mom. 

“I have to find mom ! Where is she ?!” 

Damian looked absolutely panicked, which was quite unlike him. Bruce answered : 

“She’s at work, she had a meeting with her editor. She should be back soon, though.” 

And on that note, Damian ran out to do god knew what, as Bruce shook his head and...Well, he just knew things would turn out alright. 

************

Alfred almost fainted, when he saw Damian tear off his beautiful flowers from his garden. He almost ran out, and had a very “get off my lawn !” moment...up until he realized that the boy was probably doing this for a reason. 

Oh. Oh his poor lilies.  

Hopefully, this really was for a good reason. A very good one. One so good, that it would stop him from strangling his grandkid, hopefully...

************

When you came home, Damian was waiting for you at the front door. He had a bunch of lilies in his hands (that you were pretty sure were from Alfred’s precious garden) and he looked absolutely frantic. 

He ran to you, almost threw the flowers in your arms, and yelled : 

“I’M SORRY I DIDN’T MEAN IT !! YOU ARE MY REAL MOM ! I WAS JUST ANGRY ! I’M SORRY !!” 

You were a little confused as to why he was yelling, but before you could continue he took a drawing out of his pocket and added : 

“THIS IS A DRAWING OF YOU ! I MADE IT FOR YOU !! YOU ARE MY MOM ! YOU REALLY ARE ! PLEASE FORGIVE ME !! I’M SORRY !! DO NOT BE MAD AT ME !!” 

Still confused as to why he was screaming, you bend down to look at him eye level, settled the flowers on the floor, and said : 

“It’s ok Damian. It’s ok. We all get frustrated sometimes...I won’t lie and say it didn’t hurt, but it’s ok. It happens.” 

Damian’s face showed great relief, and he leaped into your arms, yelling : 

“I LOVE YOU !!” 

You winced as he screamed in your ear, and said : 

“Why are you yelling, little one ?” 

Damian took a step back from you and said : 

“BECAUSE I HAVE TROUBLE EXPRESSING MYSELF AND JASON TOLD ME THAT SAYING THINGS IN AN AGGRESSIVE WAY MIGHT HELP !! AND HE’S RIGHT !! I LOVE YOU !!”

Damian told you he loved you before, in certain moments. When he got really hurt, when you were really hurt, if he felt really sad...It was always a moment full of emotions. And it was still rather hard for him to say the words. 

It didn’t really surprise you that Jason would have such a technique. Yelling his feelings. Yep. Sounds like him alright. And it did seem like it worked for his little brother too. 

Only you and your close family would know, because you were the only ones to truly know him, but those two were more similar than others would think. And it wasn’t because they already killed before. Oh no. On the contrary. 

“I love you too, my little one...” 

You say, as he goes back for another hug, clearly relieved you’re not mad at him. From this day on, he swore to himself that he would really try to tell others’ what he truly felt, even if it meant yelling it at them. Because other wise...otherwise it’d create this sort of terrible situations, in which his mom thought he didn’t think of her as his mom ! 

He couldn’t have it, anymore. Many “I LOVE YOU !!” were heard in the Manor, from that point on. 

DUKE 

“You know you can tell me anything, right ?” 

Duke doesn’t know why this time, this made him snap. 

Today was the anniversary of when his parents got “jokerize”, it had been two years already...And not one step closer to cure them ! He was so frustrated, sad, and lost. And you noticed. 

Duke tend to try to keep things inside. Not that he didn’t want to bother anyone, more like he just thought he HAD to handle things himself. Like it would make him stronger, and therefor, he could protect those he cares about. 

He could protect them, unlike when he could do nothing but watch as his parents fell into madness...He couldn’t bear the thought of this happening to you, Bruce, or any member of this family ! Not again. 

He couldn’t bear it...

“You’re not even my mom ! Stop acting like you are !” 

Are the words he heard himself scream at you as you asked him if everything was ok, and if he needed to talk. As you were caring, once again, and he just couldn’t...he couldn’t stand it ! Not today.

Not today. 

He immediately saw on your face the way you shut down, and took one step behind. The way your face “closed”, and as you said : “I understand.” and left the room, your body stiff and your face inexpressive (which was very unlike you), Duke felt it. 

The guilt. 

Right away.

When those dreaded words were said by all your other kids, they were young. They were all under the age of ten, and the immediate consequences of their actions didn’t truly registered. 

But Duke. 

Duke was almost eighteen. And he knew. He knew he hurt you. 

He felt the need to run after you and apologized, but there was something stopping him. 

After all, it was true right, you weren’t his mom ! His mom was still alive, and she could be cured one day ! HE ALREADY HAVE A MOM ! 

So what if you always cooked him his favorite meal, or knew exactly what his favorite food was ? So what if you would go out of your way to grab his favorite burger from his favorite joints when you knew he felt down ? 

So what, if you were always there when he was sad ? Cheering him up with comfort food, kind words, and just your presence ? 

So what if you knew exactly what would make him feel better, which movie to put on to put a smile on his face ? 

So what, if you spend entire night right by his bedside when he got really hurt, or when he was sick ? 

So what if you’d listen to him at any time of the day or night, and always took time to give him your thoughts on the matter, and truly, truly listen to what he was saying instead of waiting for your turn to speak ? 

So what if you’d make him laugh, smile, feel loved, even as he felt so alone and isolated, especially after he discovered his powers ? 

So what if you never made him feel like he was different because of it ? 

So what if you opened your house’s door without a second thought for this unknown teenager who was also a meta ?!

So what...so what...so what if you obviously cared a lot, and if you...if you... 

He already had a mom. And she might get better one day. 

He couldn’t have two moms. 

...

...

Right ? 

What would happen when his parents would be cured ? Forget all his feelings for the Waynes ? So it’d be easier to pretend he wasn’t part of the family, right ? 

It would be easier. 

Yes. 

But it was too late. 

It was too late... 

He ran after you. Caught up with you in the corridor. Tears in his eyes, he said : 

“I’m sorry, please don’t go...”

And fell into your arms. Almost eighteen years old, yes, but still needed the support of a mother. Of his mother. 

And you were there. You’d always be there, no matter what happened in the future. And he needed you, especially in that moment of frustration, where he really missed his parents, and was starting to lose hope to ever find a cure... 

And you were there.

Who ever made a rule that you could have only one mom anyway, right ?

BRUCE 

They did tell him “you’re not my dad !” too. And for him, it was as terrible as for you. If not worst, on certain aspect. Especially since he had a hard times truly expressing his feelings more often than not. 

He knows how devastating it can feel. He knows it even more, because not only did he feel it as they told him “you’re not my dad !”, but he also felt it as he told Alfred “you’re not my dad !”. He knew the feelings from both sides. 

It enhanced everything. 

Of course, in general, Bruce always felt things more than anyone else around him. He was born like that. Hypersensitive. That’s why he worked so much on hiding his true feelings, and appearing detached and cold. 

It’s much easier, than to always being overemotional. Of course, it didn’t mean he felt nothing. On the contrary, he felt everything. He was just better, nowadays, at pretending he was okay. At pretending he didn’t care. 

Ah. But you existed. 

You. 

The only person that could always see through his bullshit, and know when he was lying and fake smiling. 

Between the two of you, there has always been something. Even before you were together. It was an irrational and irresistible attraction. 

An unbreakable bond. Always supporting each others. 

You have no idea how you’d live without him. And he couldn’t even fathom a world without you. It’s a world he wouldn’t like very much...  

Even during the worst times, and oh you went through a lot together, you knew at least...at least you’d have warm arms to fall asleep in. At least, you’d have each others. 

Bruce had known pain so strong he sometimes wished death would just take him away. And then you came in. Ready to put up with his shit, and to not give up on him even when he gave you every reason to. 

And oh, oh he gave you back everything times a thousand. You knew he’d never let you fall. Not alone. 

Whenever something hurtful as your children telling you two you weren’t their real parents happened...It’s when you truly realized how vital you were to each others. 

When you fell, Bruce was there to catch you. 

When he fell, you were there to catch him. 

Better to fall together, than to stand alone. 

__________________________________________________

And here we are :). I hope you liked it ? Don’t hesitate to leave a little feedback and reblog if you want to ^^. I’m a little afraid I disappointed y’all for some reasons haha. I couldn’t explain. Self-confidence crisis hahaha. I finished writing that late, and exhausted after a hard week, maybe it plays into account ? Anyway, I really do hope you enjoyed your time reading this :). And thanks for reading, of course ^^. 

[uvobreakmylegs]

Detour

I’m excited that it’s fall but i’m also sad that i won’t be able to swim anymore

Warnings: death, graphic depictions of violence, creepy behavior, groping, mentions of smut, kidnapping

The two guys at the gas station check out counter had been there when Phinks had first walked through the sliding glass doors, and they were still there when he approached the check out himself, having only dropped in to grab another pack of beer. The gas station clerk seemed annoyed while the two guys were pulling their pockets inside out, evidently in search of any spare change that may have been hiding on their persons. There was a sad pile of jenny and some change sitting in front of the clerk while she waited for them impatiently, and she seemed ready to push all of the money back towards them as it became more and more likely that these two didn't have enough cash for the assortment of alcohol and junk food that also sat on the counter.

Any other time Phinks would've been annoyed by the situation. But seeing as he didn't have anywhere to be, he found that he didn't really care all that much. The troupe likely wouldn't meet back up for some time which left his schedule quite open, and he had found it difficult to find something to occupy his time with while he waited for the boss to bring everyone together again.

Phinks had decided that a road trip was a decent way to pass the time. It was something he'd never really done before and so far it was easing his boredom as he had hoped it would. There was no real time limit he had set on himself or any destination that he had in mind. He'd just keep doing whatever he felt like until the novelty of the trip wore off and then go home.

“Would you like to take a few items off?”

The tired voice of the clerk cut through his thoughts, and Phinks found that there had been no progress with the two in front of him.

“No no, we need all of it,” one of the men, a redhead, insisted, “we just, uh....”

Trailing off, the man glanced over to Phinks, who was still waiting with his single pack of beer. Then the man looked over to his companion and then back to the items on the counter.

Phinks could already sense what the man was going to ask of him before he spoke out.

“Hey man,” the guy said to Phinks, “I know it sounds bad, but do you think you could spot me on this? I'm bringing this stuff back for my party. We ran out of some stuff way quicker than we expected. Can't let people down, y'know?”

The redhead started telling him how much more they needed until the clerk interrupted him to tell him off for harassing other customers for money. A mini argument started between the two, with the man insisting that he wasn't harassing anyone and the clerk disagreeing with him. The man's friend joined in shortly after and it was quickly turning into a mess.

What obnoxious fucking people.

If he was in more of a bad mood he'd have probably snapped the necks of all of them. The presence of cameras stopped him from doing that, however, as it would just be too much of a pain to go to the back and destroy the footage after. Still, even though he didn't have anywhere to be, it didn't mean that he wanted to waste his time listening to people bicker. The easiest way out of this was to just give them the jenny so they'd all shut up.

After pulling out his wallet, Phinks slid the jenny across the counter.

That shut the three of them up, and the two men were quick to express their gratitude while the clerk just looked tired.

“Thank you so, so much, man,” the redhead continued after they collected their bagged items.

“Mm-hm.”

Phinks was only half-paying attention to him as he waited for the clerk to scan the beer so he could hand her the jenny owed. That transaction went much quicker and Phinks was soon making his way to the exit.

The two men seemed to be waiting on him, though.

“Hey, since you helped us out, you wanna come to my party?” the redhead asked.

Normally his automatic response would've been to give him a flat “no”. But in this instance Phinks just shrugged.

That seemed to give the redhead hope, and he began listing the reasons why Phinks should follow them back, like his “cool house”, hot women and great beer.

Given the especially cheap brand of beer Phinks had largely paid for, he had a hard time believing that last point. He also wasn't quite sure why this guy was so insistent on getting him to come along. Was it really just because Phinks had bothered to help them out?

“Name's Stu by the way. Back there is Billy,” the redhead told him, sticking out his arm to shake hands. When Phinks didn't do the same, Stu seemed a bit dejected, yet even that didn't make him back down from inviting Phinks.

“So how 'bout it, man? You wanna come?”

“.... I'll think about it,” he told him.

“Okay, but do it fast man. My place isn't that far from here.”

Phinks nodded, and Stu ran off to the car where his friend was waiting. The other guy didn't seem as keen on Phinks as the redhead had, regarding the blonde with suspicion. Phinks could hear him saying something as the two entered the car. Stu seemed to brush him off, and then their car doors closed and Phinks couldn't hear anything else.

The two ended up pulling out of the parking lot before he did, and Phinks found himself following them as they all made the same turn onto the highway.

He still had no real urge to go to some random guy's party, especially when he found him to be pretty annoying. And if it was a party filled with the friends of someone like that, he'd probably get irritated with all of them pretty quick. Better to just ignore them and be on his way.

Although the thought of just driving aimlessly through the night wasn't all that attractive, either. He'd done that several times now, and the feeling of being the only person in the world while he drove on the empty highway had lost its touch by now.

The car in front of him veered off the highway to get onto a side road.

After a few seconds, Phinks did the same, just thinking to himself 'why not?'. It would be something different, a little detour on a trip that was meant to be a distraction, and if it ended up being something that he didn't want to bother with, then he could just leave.

Although the noise level in the house wasn't quiet, it was nowhere near ear-shatteringly loud as Phinks may have expected. At least it had that in it's favor. Other than that, it was a stereotypical frat house party, with everyone talking and drinking as they got more and more shitfaced.

The two who brought him here vanished into the kitchen, and Phinks began to make his way around the house, sipping one of the cans of beer he had bought for himself since he had no interest in the shit the host had him pay for. A girl in one of the upstairs rooms noticed the beer in his hand and begged him to share with her, even going as far as to tug on the sleeve of his jacket when he told her no. He ended up pushing her away, and though he had tried to use as little force as possible, his strength combined with her tipsiness caused her to stumble back into a wall. She was still whining about him when he walked back down the stairs, going on about how mean he was.

He thought he'd been pretty nice to her, all things considered.

It didn't take long for Phinks to lose interest in this particular distraction. Not that he'd been expecting much, but after going around the house and not even seeing anything that might be worth stealing, he figured it'd be best to leave soon. With his short temper being one of his vices, he didn't want to deal with what would happen if some drunk got on his nerves and he smashed them into the wall.

With the sights, sounds and smells became grating to him and seeing no reason to stay any longer, Phinks went about trying to find an exit. Attempting to get out the same way he came in was put to a stop when he saw how congested the front entrance had become. He could've easily pushed past all of them, but since that would likely draw a fair amount of attention, maybe it'd be a better idea to find a different way out. Phinks wandered into the kitchen, walking by Stu who tried to talk to him. A patio door leading to the backyard caught his eye and he ignored the party's host as he walked by several people to get to it.

The cool air outside felt refreshing and he let out a soft sigh as the patio door slowly swung closed. Claustrophobia generally wasn't something he had an issue with, but that seemed to change a little when he was faced with a house full of drunken strangers who didn't understand the meaning of personal space. Another nice thing was the fact that no one else seemed to be out here. He didn't think it was that cold out, but it worked just fine if the people inside thought otherwise.

He stood on a deck with an assortment of patio furniture that sat in front of an in ground pool, and when he looked to the side, he saw the gate within the fencing that surrounded the backyard.

That was his way out, then.

With no more reason to stick around, he was about to head out and back to his car-

But he paused when he heard the sound of splashing water, and he looked back to the pool.

So he wasn't the only person out here.

Some of the patio furniture had blocked you from his sight so he hadn't noticed you at first, but you were now swimming out into the center of the pool and impossible to miss. It was pretty late in the year for swimming, wasn't it? Yet you seemed to be content with yourself despite the temperature and lack of company, swimming around the pool like you owned it. Maybe you did; he wasn't sure what your relation was to the party host.

Then your eyes met, and you smiled as you greeted him.

“Hello.”

“... Hey.”

He hadn't come out to look for company. He was looking to leave.

Yet something about this situation, about you, intrigued him, and Phinks walked forward, continuing with “isn't it a little late in the season for swimming?”

“That's what everyone seems to think,” you said, “it's going to be drained tomorrow, so I wanted to swim one more time before that. It's the last chance I'll get for this year.”

“No public pools around here?” he asked.

“I don't really like public pools,” you told him, laughing a little bit as you continued “the ones around here are never clean, and I don't wanna swim around in nasty water.”

Phinks couldn't say if he really had an opinion one way or the other. He tried to avoid situations where he'd need to be shirtless in public, as the spider with the number 5 on his ribs would've been a dead giveaway for anyone who understood it's meaning. He just shrugged at you as he said “fair enough.”

Phinks now stood at the edge of the pool while you swam up to the edge.

“I don't think I've seen you before. You new around here?” you asked him.

“No. Just passing through. Helped out the host at the gas station and he invited me as thanks,” Phinks explained, “I was expecting this to be taking place at some shitty apartment; didn't think a guy like that owned a house.”

“He doesn't, it belongs to his older brother Jed. Stu just lives with him,” you responded.

“Ah.”

That made a bit more sense to him. Since he hadn't been able to buy beer from a gas station on his own, it didn't seem likely that the guy would've had his own house. So he was just leeching off of his brother.

Despite being ready to leave just minutes earlier, he found that he now had a reason to want to stay here longer. But standing and talking to you was getting a little awkward, so Phinks sat himself down on the concrete next to the pool. So far you weren't annoying compared to some of the others. And despite being by yourself beforehand, you seemed pretty open to talking with him, resting your arms on the edge of the pool.

“You friends with them, then?”

“Jed is in a few of my classes, so I'm friends with him. Not Stu, though. He's kind of an asshole. Likes to play a lot of stupid pranks.”

You rested your chin in your hand as you thought back.

“He's destroyed two of my phones so far, both times by dumping water on me,” you said, “although I guess he did repay me for both, but it's still such a hassle to go through.”

“You're nicer than I am. If some guy like that fucked up my phone I'd kill him.”

You laughed at him, not taking his words seriously.

“You seem nice enough. You helped him out, right?”

“Only because it was the fastest way to get outta there. Stupid bastard started an argument with the clerk.”

“Yeah. That sounds like something he'd do,” you said, tiredness lacing your voice.

A cheer then sounded from inside the house, and though the doors and windows were closed, it was loud enough that the both of you could hear it from outside.

“Things must be ramping up in there,” you commented.

“Guess so,” Phinks said, taking a swig of his drink after.

“Isn't it kinda weird that you're keeping to yourself with an event like this? Don't see the point in going out if you're going to avoid people,” he added.

“But isn't that what you're doing by coming out here?” you asked.

“Nah, I was getting ready to leave.”

“What stopped you?”

“I haven't done much out here beside sitting here talking to you. What do you think?”

You seemed a bit taken aback and a little embarrassed as you realized the reason, but gave him a small smile.

“Oh wow. Are you saying I managed to be charming enough to keep a guy from leaving?” you asked him.

“No. You're just not as annoying as the others I've met tonight.”

Your expression was rather blank as you took in that information.

“..... I'll take that as a compliment, then,” you said, “so what do you do?”

“What do I do?”

“For a job, or just anything in general.”

“I do a couple odd jobs here and there, I guess,” he answered, “every once in a while a bigger opportunity comes up, and I just do whatever I need to.”

It was an oversimplification of his criminal activities, and he hoped that he'd been vague enough without sounding suspicious.

It appeared that he had as you didn't seem to think it was strange.

“You mentioned earlier that you were just passing through. Are you on your way to a job or something?”

“Nah. I'm currently off-duty. And I had a lot of time to kill, so I decided to take a road trip.”

“Oh, that sounds nice,” you said, “I work on campus, so I don't really get to do vacations for now. Can't remember the last time I went on one.”

“Job at least worth it?”

“Kind of? Although the other week I needed to go through something stupid.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah. I got screamed at by a lady.”

Your tone made it seem like that was something happened on a regular basis.

“For what?” he asked.

“Something with her daughter's textbooks. She ordered one that she didn't need on accident but didn't want to admit that she made a mistake, so she just let her mother yell at me for forty minutes and claim that we were the ones who fucked up.”

You sighed a little after the explanation. Evidently that situation still made you frustrated.

“.... Did she apologize after?” Phinks asked.

With a slightly wistful smile, you shook your head as you said “people like that don't apologize.”

“Sounds rough.”

It went without saying that Phinks wouldn't have tolerated anything like that. If it had been him he'd have killed them both and tossed their bodies in the trash. But he kept that rather violent thought to himself.

“Sorry you needed to deal with that,” he added.

“It's okay. It's little things that keep you going,” you said, “I've been looking forward to swimming for a while, so I'm pretty happy right now. Although I guess I'm kinda doing a job right now.”

“How so?”

“Jed's at his job right now, and since he doesn't trust Stu, he asked me to make sure nothing happens to the pool. The last time Stu had a party there was a bunch of trash in it the next morning, and it was a pain to clean up. So in exchange for using the pool, I have full permission to snitch on anyone who tosses anything.”

“Yeah? What's snitching gonna do?”

“Jed's a scary guy. Nobody wants to make him mad.”

If Phinks had felt like being more of an asshole, and if you'd been unpleasant during your conversation with him, he probably would've taken his half-finished beer can and thrown it into the pool just to upset you and also to see if your friend was as scary as you were making him out to be.

But so far he'd been enjoying himself, so as fun as that thought might have been, he decided against it.

You pulled one of your arms off of the rim and back into the water. Evidently you were getting cold, but you held on to the edge to continue speaking to him.

“So how long have you been on your trip?” you asked.

“A few weeks.”

“A few weeks? You must have been all over the place, then. Did you go anywhere in particular?”

“Not really,” Phinks answered, “didn't have any real plan when I set out. Just drove to wherever I thought would be interesting.”

“That's kinda cool,” you said, “must be nice to be able to go wherever you want without any real plan.”

“You can't?”

“Nope. Classes and work means I can't just run off whenever I feel like it.”

“Too busy getting screamed at?” he asked jokingly.

“Yeah, something like that,” you answered, laughing a little after.

You pulled your other arm back underwater and just kept a hand on the side of the wall.

“Cold?” he asked.

“A little.”

“Probably why most people aren't swimming this late.”

“I don't care; it's worth it,” you said, “honestly, the thought of being able to swim was what kept me going this week.”

That.... Was a little bit sad, Phinks thought to himself. That all you had to look forward to at the end of the week was a few hours to swim by yourself in the cold. There were much sadder circumstances in the world – he was certain that anyone from Meteor City would be more than happy to switch places with you – but your life must have felt empty. Although Phinks was technically in the same boat at the moment, at least being with the troupe gave him purpose. What did you have besides a shitty job and presumably a fair amount of college debt? Just the 'little things' to keep you going?

Maybe he was presuming too much; he'd only just met you after all. But it bothered him regardless.

“What are your plans for after college?” he asked.

You seemed a bit startled, and you looked away from him for the first time.

“Not really sure, actually. I'm still undecided on my major,” you admitted, “I need to figure out soon, though. I'm going to run out of the basic coursework that I need to get through, and my family is getting mad that I haven't made a decision yet.”

So you didn't have any direction and were being pressured by others. Still not the saddest circumstance ever, but if it had been him, Phinks was certain he'd have been miserable.

You clearly didn't want to keep going on about that particular subject, as you began to ask him questions about his trip, wanting to know where exactly he had been so far and how much longer he planned to drive for. The change in topics was obvious, but he decided to go along with it.

As the night grew darker while the two of you talked, he decided that he liked you. You could hold a decent conversation, even if the things you two talked about weren't all that meaningful.

You were pretty cute, too.

The party behind him still seemed to be going strong, but it was largely going ignored by you both, in part by the fact that you were still the only ones outside.

Your face lit up as a thought came to mind.

“You should come in!” you told him.

“No thanks.”

“Come on! It's really nice!”

You grabbed at his free hand, tugging on his arm lightly as you tried to encourage him to get into the pool.

“If you get my suit wet I'll drown you,” Phinks said told you.

You giggled, once more not taking him seriously. Though he was only half-serious about it at this point.

“Then take it off and come in,” you insisted.

“I don't have a swimsuit.”

“That doesn't stop most people.

“Good to know,” he said flatly.

Though you'd stopped tugging on his arm, both of your hands remained on his wrist as you looked up at him.

“Can you not swim?” you asked.

“I can swim fine,” he said, “I just don't feel like it right now.”

You seemed a bit disappointed, but you had yet to let go of his wrist.

“Should you really be that surprised with the temperature being what it is?” he asked you.

“It isn't that bad. And the pool is heated,” you insisted, “didn't think a bit of chill would scare off the most interesting person at this party, though.”

The corner of his lips curled a bit at that. He wasn't one for meaningless flattery, but he didn't mind hearing you say things like that.

“Is that why you're not letting go of me?”

“You don't seem to be doing much to shake me off.”

“I could if I wanted to.”

“So you don't want to?”

You were teasing him. And while he could tease you back, he went for a different approach.

He yanked his wrist out of your grip and grabbed your own wrist just as fast, and lifted you up until you were eye level with him. To say you were flustered by the action would've been an understatement, and your free hand grasped at the arm that held you up to lessen the weight on the arm that he had trapped.

With you partially out of the water, Phinks allowed his eyes to travel over your form, following the trails of water that dripped down your skin and imagining exactly what you looked like under that swimsuit. His grin got wider when he saw your body reacting to the cooler temperature and the way your nipples showed through the material. It hadn't been on his mind when he first approached you, but after spending time with you he found himself liking the idea of fooling around with you. Probably not in the house, and he doubted you would want to do anything in the pool due to that friend of yours you had mentioned. Maybe there was some dark corner around here where he could take you to do what he wanted.

You were squirming a little, trying to free yourself from his grip.

“It's cold,” you whined.

“Yep,” was his reply.

“Come on, let go. I'm only in a swimsuit.”

“You weren't letting me go,” he pointed out.

“Yeah, but I didn't pull you into the water.”

“Because you're too weak to do that.”

“That's not fair!”

“Don't think this is a situation where fairness matters, sweetheart.”

With that he let you go, and you dropped back down into the pool. You pushed away from the wall after, giving him a slightly sour look.

“Problem?” he asked.

“It's cold,” you repeated.

He just smirked.

“You're gonna need to deal with it at some point,” he told you.

“Yeah, but I wasn't ready for it then!”

You had to have noticed the way he looked at you, right? There was no way you were so oblivious to have not seen how he had blatantly looked you over. Yet you weren't mentioning it.

By now you were more at the center of the pool, pointedly out of his range.

“You done talking?” Phinks asked.

“No, but I don't want you pulling me out again.”

Then you looked away like you were embarrassed.

It clicked for him. You must have liked it, but you were too shy to say anything about it.

Your reluctance was cute, though Phinks knew he'd get tired of that game pretty fast.

“Come back over,” he told you.

“Why?”

“Because I want you to.”

You shook your head.

“You're going to do that again, right?” you asked.

“Maybe.”

“Then no. I don't wanna get out yet.”

“How long are you gonna stay in there?”

“Until I feel like getting out.”

“And if I want you out of there now?”

“Then you'd have to come in and get me.”

…. Oh

That's what it was.

A ploy by you to get him into the pool.

That's what you had to mean by those words, right?

“.... What the hell,” he said to himself as he stood.

It got your attention when he began to remove his clothing, throwing them over to a few neatly folded articles of clothing that sat next to a bag on the patio, which he assumed belonged to you. You were watching him closely, and he could sense a growing interest in you when he removed his shirt. Your eyes lingered a little when you caught sight of his spider tattoo, but there was no hint that you recognized what it meant, which was preferable.

“Enjoying the show?” he asked.

“You were looking at me earlier,” you answered defensively, “you're not allowed to get mad when I do the same.”

“Didn't say I was mad.”

You acknowledging the way he had looked at you then just reaffirmed in his head that you hadn't minded, and after stripping down to his boxers, Phinks jumped in. The water felt just as nice as you had said, but he didn't take much time to focus on it as he was quick to approach you. Within moments, he had wrapped his arms around you and pulled you in close, lifting you a little so you were at eye level with him. You seemed flustered again, but you didn't make any move to get away, and were resting your hands on his chest.

“I don't think you told me your name,” you whispered to him.

“Phinks.”

“Phinks,” you repeated, smiling afterwards, “I like it. It's cool.”

“Thanks,” he replied, “and how 'bout you?”

You gave him your name, which he also repeated to himself.

“Not as cool as 'Phinks', I guess,” you said.

“It suits you,” he said.

You smiled at him, then shifted slightly in his grip.

“Are you just gonna keep holding me?”

“You said I needed to come in and get you.”

“And what did you want to 'get' me for?”

Despite the question, you clearly had an idea of what Phinks was after as you began to move in closer to him. Phinks did the same, and slowly, the gap between the two of you was closed as your lips met together in a kiss.

With the heavy scent of pool chemicals that surrounded you two, it was hard to smell much else, but your lips were soft against his. The kiss was a bit tame for his liking, but he let you do what you wanted for now as you readjusted your arms so they were wrapped around his neck.

One of his hands slid down your back to reach down and squeeze your ass, and you gasped into the kiss. He slipped his tongue into your mouth for a brief moment before you pulled away, your hand over your mouth as you looked away in embarrassment.

“I'm not sure we should do much more here,” you said, glancing up at the house behind him, “there are people watching. I'm not into that.”

“Where do you wanna go?” he asked. It didn't surprise him much that you two might have attracted an audience, and when he heard the door to the patio open from behind him, he chose to ignore it.

“I don't think we'll get much privacy here, so how about my place?” you asked.

“Do you usually bring home strangers?”

“Only the really cool ones.”

He grinned.

You were leaning in to kiss him again when you suddenly froze and turned your attention to something behind Phinks.

“Don't do that!” you yelled.

Phinks turned his head just in time to see his and your clothes land in the water, with the guy who'd invited him – Stu, he remembered – pointing and laughing after having thrown them. The annoying woman from earlier, the one who had whined at him for his can of beer, was also there, standing behind Stu and running off with him towards the gate in the fence.

Phinks saw red.

He let you go and swiftly exited the pool, following after the two even as the chill of the night air nipped at his skin. He barely felt it, and he didn't give a shit that he was running around barefoot either. All of his focus was on catching up to those two assholes who'd dumped his clothes in the pool.

He was angry enough that he didn't notice the sound of feet following after him.

The two perpetrators were in an alleyway between two rows of houses, drunkenly laughing their asses off. Their demeanor didn't change when Phinks caught up to them. The woman actually began to laugh harder, probably because Phinks was still wearing only his boxers.

Stu was trying to contain himself a bit, and put his hands up as an offering of peace.

“Hey man, it wasn't anything personal. Just a prank,” he said, “you can use the dryer, and I'll lend you some clothes-”

His sentence was cut off when Phinks grabbed both sides of his head and twisted it completely around, the cracking of his broken neck ringing out in the empty alley.

The sight of Stu falling to the ground with his head facing the wrong way had the woman instantly sober up, and she looked to Phinks as she opened her mouth to scream.

Barely a whisper of sound was able to escape as he did the same thing to her, and now Phinks was standing half-naked in an alley with two dead bodies.

“Obnoxious fucking people,” he muttered to himself.

Then there was noise that came from behind him.

Phinks turned and saw the other guy who'd been at the gas station on the ground, his arms barely supporting himself as his eyes were wide at the sight of his friends dead before him.

His eyes widened even further when he spotted the spider on Phinks' ribs, clearly recognizing what it meant as he whispered “oh my god.”

Make that three bodies, Phinks thought to himself as he rushed forward to snap his neck as well.

Three bodies that he needed to get rid of. If anyone else from the party came out here and found them, the police would be called immediately. He had no intentions of staying here any longer, but it'd be best to put a bit of distance between himself and the crime scene before the police were inevitably called.

He was dragging the other guy by his ankles and in the process of collecting the woman's body when someone walked out into the alley through one of the other entrances. An older woman, who was definitely not from the party and had come from another house, carrying a bag of trash walked out in front of Phinks, and like the guy right before, her eyes grew wide as she saw the sight of the dead before her.

She made a move to run back to her house, but Phinks picked up a pebble that he infused with nen and launched it at her head. It traveled through her skull and the fencing beside her, and blood sprayed out from the exit wound and splattered onto the fence as well as she fell to the ground.

This was turning into a goddamn mess, and after Phinks had thrown now four bodies over into a different backyard, he heard a voice calling out “mom?” from the direction that the woman with the trash bag had come from.

Fuck this. He needed to go.

When he returned to the backyard to retrieve his clothes, he found you on the patio. You were holding his jacket over the concrete, desperately trying to wring out the water that had soaked it completely. You were visibly shivering as you did so, with goosebumps running up your arms and your teeth chattering. He noticed his pants hanging off the fence that surrounded the patio, and while they weren't dry by any means, you had clearly done your best to get the water out of them. Meanwhile your own clothes laid in a soggy heap by your equally soaked bag.

You noticed him when he walked closer.

“I'm sorry,” you told him. You looked guilty for some reason.

“You didn't do it,” Phinks said, considerably calmer now.

“No. But I made a big deal about you getting in with me, and with Stu around I should've been paying attention. I'm really, really sorry.”

He was about to tell you to stop apologizing when he heard a shout coming from the direction of the alleyway.

Fuck. He forgot that he needed to leave.

Luckily you were the only one who noticed, as the rest of the party goers still had the doors and windows securely shut. He pulled on his pants and his sopping wet tank top, and the sensation of wearing those wet clothes was just as unpleasant as he had anticipated. At least his shoes were still dry.

You were still holding his jacket, looking confused as you looked off in the direction where you'd heard that voice. Phinks was about to just take it from you and leave, but when he looked you over again, he thought over the things you two had talked about, the things you had said and how you'd acted around him, and he came to a split second decision.

Grabbing your clothes and bag, he shoved them into your hands before he grabbed one of your arms and pulled you after him. You seemed startled, but you didn't question him as you were too surprised to think of anything to say. He led you out through the backyard and down to where he had parked his car, opening the passenger side door and pushing you inside. He then walked around to the driver's side, and within moments you both were speeding out of the neighborhood.

By the time he came to the highway there was a strong smell of pool chemicals that filled the car, and both of the front seats were slowly soaking up the excess water that dripped off of the two of you.

You seemed to be in a mild state of shock, as you had yet to say anything. You just sat in your still wet swimsuit looking rather confused while you still held onto the soaked clothing Phinks had forced onto you.

After a while you shuddered and finally spoke up.

“Do you think you could turn up the heat?” you asked him.

“Oh. Sure. Sorry.”

Phinks turned the heat up all the way, and after a few moments you seemed to relax a bit, though now you were glancing over at him while smiling nervously.

“Uh, so, there's a lot that I should probably be questioning,” you began, “but I'll start with if you knew why there was yelling?”

Should he lie? No, that might be weird if he pretended not to know.

“I punched that guy in the face. I think I broke his nose,” he told you, “that was likely his friend after he saw him.”

“Ah. Okay,” you said, “that's..... Not very good, but I think I get why you did that. You're gonna get charged with assault, though.”

Fat chance.

“I'll deal with that when I come to that,” he answered, “sorry if I put you in a tough position.”

“It's okay. Well, not really. But Stu's pranks have always been pretty bad and what he did was shitty, so I guess it was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“Think you can forgive me?”

“... Yeah, I think so. Just promise you won't do anything like that again.”

“I promise.”

“Okay,” you said as you nodded, “so second question: where are we going?”

“.... Not sure. Didn't have much of a plan besides getting out of there and going back to what I was doing,” Phinks admitted.

“So you're just back to driving around going wherever?”

“Seems like it.”

“Why did you bring me along?” you asked.

“.... Didn't want that to be the last time I saw you,” he said.

“Oh.....”

His answer ended up making you flustered again, and while you did seem to be holding some reservations about him with his admission of violence and the fact that he really had just kidnapped you, he could see you rationalizing everything in your mind and convincing yourself that this wasn't all that bad.

It was preferable if you did that. It made taking you with him a lot easier.

“Luckily for me I don't work tomorrow,” you said, “and since the day after that is Sunday and the campus store isn't open then, I also have that day off. So I think it's okay if I drive around with you for a bit. Just get me back by Sunday night, alright?”

“Don't worry. I'll get you back safe and sound,” he told you, and you visibly relaxed at his words.

You were a little naive, a little too trusting. But that was fine. Phinks liked that about you.

“Okay so third question,” you announced as you looked down at the wet clothes in your lap, “what should we do about this?”

“Right. Let me pull over.”

He stopped the car beneath a streetlight, and you sat sideways on the passengers seat while you held the clothes out of the car and wrung the water out of them as best you could. Phinks took the opportunity to change after you handed him his jacket, and he threw the mostly damp clothes in the backseat.

Glancing over at you, he did appreciate how much your swimsuit showed off while you tried to dry out your own clothes. But while he liked the idea of you staying as you were for the rest of the trip, you probably wouldn't be as big of a fan of that. Going over to his trunk once more, he dug around through his bag before he found what he was looking for.

“I don't have anything that will fit you well,” Phinks said as he made his way over to you, “but this should cover you up.”

What he handed you was the long white robe he wore on occasion, usually for combat or missions.

You seemed a bit surprised when you saw it, but you accepted it gratefully. Your gaze went to the jeweled eye that hung near the neck of the garment, and he heard you mumble about it being pretty.

He wondered briefly what you might think of the snake headpiece he usually wore with it, but the time for that would come later as you were currently slipping his robe over your head.

“Thank you,” you told him again as you threw your clothing in the back as well.

Then your attention went to your bag, and you frowned.

“What's wrong?”

In response to his question, you tilted your bag to the side and water began to pour out of it.

“Ah.”

“How much do you wanna bet that my phone is dead?” you asked as you reached inside.

As was expected, your phone screen stayed black when you hit the power button, and you sighed.

“And that's phone number three that Stu has destroyed.”

“Don't worry. It won't happen again,” he told you.

“You sure?”

“Positive.”

You tossed the now useless phone into your bag and looked back up to him as if to say “so what now?”

Phinks had an idea for that.

“Wanna go to a motel?”

“A motel? Wow, you sure know how to treat someone,” you said sarcastically.

“You really think I can get you into a nice hotel with you looking like that? You don't even have shoes,” he said.

“I didn't get a chance to grab them,” you responded, though you seemed to concede a bit.

“Could we stop somewhere tomorrow so I can get shoes or something?”

“I'll buy you a whole new wardrobe if that's what you want.”

You laughed at that, shaking your head and saying that you didn't need that.

Before too long, Phinks was back in the drivers seat while you watched the streetlights as the car passed them by, your fingers idly playing with the jewel on his robes as you did so. He had turned down the heat and turned on the radio, and though it still felt strange to be sitting in the wet seats, it wasn't bothering either of you as much anymore. The smell from the pool was mostly gone after driving a bit with the windows opened just a crack.

Except for the occasional car that drove in the opposite direction, you were the only ones on the highway.

“How far are you gonna drive?” you eventually asked.

He wanted to get out of the state at least. Phinks didn't want to deal with a confrontation with the law while also taking you along with him. He wanted to get as far as he could while you were still cooperative, and whenever you realized that there was no chance he'd be taking you back, he'd go to more extreme measures of keeping you with him. Your phone being dead was a good thing for him; you wouldn't be able to try and get help as easily.

“I think we've passed by three or four motels already,” you added, “was there something wrong with them?”

“No. Sorry. I got a bit distracted,” Phinks replied, “I've come to really like the highway at night. There's something soothing about it, I guess. Wanted to stay like this for a bit longer.”

You nodded in response and looked back out the window, your fingers still playing with the jeweled eye.

“Can I borrow your phone at some point tomorrow? I need to call someone just so everyone back home knows I'm okay. Don't want them to worry,” you said to him.

“Sure,” he said.

Arguing with you over that would seem strange. He'd just need to avoid that subject tomorrow.

He noticed when you yawned.

“Getting tired?” he asked.

“A little,” you said, laughing a little as you added, “this wasn't how I was expecting my night to go.”

“Same here.”

“I hope you decide to stop soon. I might not be up for it tonight if you're planning on continuing where we left off at the pool when we reach that motel.”

“That's fine. We'll have all day tomorrow, right?”

His words made you embarrassed again, and you shyly answered with a yes as you smiled to yourself.

So that was the plan, then. Drive as far as he could tonight, fuck your brains out tomorrow, then get away further before you figured things out. You would likely object, not liking the idea of being taken away from everything you'd ever known. But he was certain that after spending enough time with him, you'd prefer it. Your current life wasn't any good, but he was prepared for you to not understand that at first. And if he needed to tie you up and shove you into the trunk to keep you compliant, he could do that. Seemed like a pretty fool-proof plan.

You were yawning again.

“Get some sleep if you need to,” he said, “I'll wake you up when I find a place I like.”

You nodded. Soon after he saw you settling back into the seat and closing your eyes as you attempted to get some rest.

He liked the sight of you next to him, sitting in his clothes while you nodded off in his car. And when he turned his attention back to the empty highway, he was once again hit with the feeling like he was the only one in the world. A feeling that only came with seeing an area that was typically full of people seem completely abandoned.

But this time, though, he wasn't alone.

[yeojaa]

feed me, fight me.

pairing.  boxer!jjk x f!reader.  rating.  explicit.  tags.  relationship issues, baby angst, comfort, unprotected sex (please be responsible!).  wc. 3.5k.  beta reader.  @hobi-gif​, always.  💖  author note.  i’m really into comfort fics rn so... 

What do you get when you mix a pissed off girlfriend with a neglectful boyfriend?  (Aside from trouble, that is.)

The answer is you - throwing punches far harder than you should be, completely disregarding the fact that you’re meant to be playing the part of perfect partner, meeting pads in the sequence he’s laid out.  It’s you throwing a hook when you should be swinging an uppercut.  It’s you, snapping your leg out with a satisfying thunk! of your shin when you should only be thip kicking.  It’s you, not giving a single damn as you take out all your frustrations on someone who’s growing increasingly more irritated by your childishness.  It’s you, blatantly disrespecting him in his ring - sending a reminder that there’s more to life than the four corners of this space. 

How can he blame you though, when he’s the reason?  When you’ve voiced your annoyance more than once - more than twice, more times than you care to count - and each time it’s met with a half-hearted apology (if you could even call it that)?  How can he hold it against you when you’ve asked, demanded, pleaded for more? 

“Cut it out,”  he seethes, quiet, under his breath, irritation igniting his expression, something hot and angry burning in the dark of his stare.  A withering wildfire in an empty field, smoldering coals flickering bright.  It presents itself in how his mouth curls, the hard line of his jaw as bone threatens to snap in half from the tension. 

“Cut what out?”  Your retort is punctuated by the smack of leather on leather, the worn edge of your boxing glove meeting the pad that Jungkook raises just in time to avoid a black eye. 

“What’s your problem?”  How he manages to snipe back - somehow sounding disgruntled by your behaviour - you’re not sure.  All you know is it boils your blood, searing heat within your veins when he effortlessly blocks your next jab.  He knows you well and knows the sport better, predicting each movement as if you’re telegraphing it all with a giant neon sign on your forehead. 

(You probably are.  You’ve never been good at hiding your emotions, pinning your heart on your sleeve, your sadness heavy in your mouth.  They wear you, rather than you it.  A weakness of yours.)

“You’re my problem.” 

“Shut up.”  It’s not the usual exasperated annoyance he levels you with, meaner and paired with a swat of your gloved hand.  He’s not supposed to be countering you, instead only blocking the punches you throw his way. 

(But then again - when did he ever listen to you?  When did he ever do what he was supposed to?)

(It’s not a fair assertion.  You’re just mad.  Livid beyond belief, standing atop this hill that you’ll happily die on.)

“Fuck you,”  you snap, offering the petulant comeback in the same instance you surge forward.  He blocks your jab - sees it coming from a mile away - and goes to block your hook. 

Except it never comes, your knee straightening out instead, hard edge of your shin slamming right into the side of his leg. 

He crumples more out of surprise than anything, eyes wide, all the anger swept away by something closer to astonishment.  It shines impossibly bright in his eyes, turning his entire expression upside down when his knee hits the ground.  By how he falls, you’re sure you’ve hit just the right spot, left his nerve endings buzzing uncomfortably as the feeling leaves the limb. 

“Are you serious?”  You know he’s genuinely baffled then, voice slipping, cracking in a way you’d normally find adorable.  (It goes to show how upset you are, the awkward split of his words doing nothing to soothe your temper.)  “What’s your issue?”  He’s still seated on the floor, rocking back on his heels, brow knit in consternation.  It’d take him seconds to jump up - to put you on your ass - but he chooses to remain where he is, staring up at you with that look on his face.

(That look you love.  That you hate.  That makes your insides turn to goo on his best days and misery on your worst.  That you’ve seen every single day for the last three years, as the first thing upon waking up and the last thing before passing out.  That makes you hesitate now, peering down into it.)

(Were you being unnecessary?  Unbearable?  Was this on you?)

“I’m going home.”  It’d be nice to tear your gloves off, throw them in his face and storm off in a huff.  It’d cause the scene you’re hoping for, push him to where you need.  (Because that’s the thing about Jungkook - he doesn’t react otherwise and you’re sick of it.)  Instead, you turn on your heel and slink away, silent as a mouse.  

You’re tired.  Too tired.  Why had you started something you couldn’t finish?

It shouldn’t surprise you that you’re home alone for hours that night, curled up in bed and half-asleep when light from the hallway spills into your bedroom.  It comes with hardly any noise, a tell-tale sign he’s trying not to wake you (or disturb you or get caught).  You almost let it slide when his figure appears in the doorway, broad frame swallowed up by the oversized sweater he wears.

He’s moving near silently, having already deposited his gym bag in the laundry room.  He doesn’t even switch the light on, moving around in the muted glow of the hallway, fumbling as he strips his clothes off and tosses them into the hamper against the wall. 

You expect him to head directly into the en suite, wash away whatever grime he’s accumulated throughout the day.  He’s always been this way, far too concerned with dragging in odour and dirt into your bed to do otherwise.

Except tonight, he doesn’t follow his usual routine.  Tonight, he makes a detour.

The bed dips before you realise what’s happening, grip on the pillow under your head tightening.  Words fit between your teeth, ready to spill out, lash out, tear out like a bullet deadset on landing a bullseye. 

“I’m sorry.”  Two words you’ve been waiting to hear, that startle you enough to throw your anger out the window, tossing them out with the wash.  “I don’t know why you’re upset but I’m sorry for whatever it is.”  He’s speaking into the quiet of your bedroom.  You can feel his hand settled on the bed, wrist somewhere over the line of your spine.  

Oh - he thinks you’re asleep.

“Things have been crazy.  I’ve been stressed.”  Here, under cover of night, he’s vulnerable, explanation tumbling forth uncertainly.  You can hear it in the way the words form, syllables slipping into each other - a sure sign of his exhaustion.  “I know that’s not an excuse, so I’ll be better.”  Though he readjusts, weight distributing differently over the bed, he isn’t touching you.  You can only imagine how he looks, the posture he’s taken on, arms leant over knees, hands twisting together in that way of his that begs a silent help me.  A version of him you’ve seen only a handful of times.  

(Jeon Jungkook does not let things get to him.  Never has, likely never will.  He’s immaculately put together, strung tight by years of growing up too fast, wanting too much and fearing it’ll slip away.  He goes and goes until he can’t any more and only then does he still, crashing headlong over a cliff of his own creation.)

It’s then that you realise while you’ve grown irritated with his preoccupation, coming second to the man you’ve only ever put first, he’s been suffering right alongside you.  Differently, certainly, but suffering nonetheless.  Holding his cards close as he’s always done, shouldering all the things on his own and hoping for the best.

Irritation flares first.  Anger at the fact that he hadn’t confided in you.  It burns bright, erodes everything else in its path.

And then it dims almost immediately, overshadowed by a tenderness that blooms in the small of your chest.  Rosebuds that fill the cavity and swath affection in broad strokes, colouring everything purple - a pretty mosaic made up of equal parts love and sadness.

“You should’ve said something.”  

Bambi-eyed baby is your nickname for your boyfriend - one he reluctantly wears, scowls at when you use it in public - and yet you’re still blown away by the glossiness of his stare, how wide it goes when you roll to face him, simultaneously flicking your bedside light on.  There’s embarrassment crowding his expression, lighting up every handsome facet of his features in technicolour.  He works to hide it almost immediately, moves back on the bed as if he might find himself a home in the shadows.

“I thought you were sleeping,”  he mumbles, not quite looking at you, stare focused on your pillow case, the white linen that you’d bought when you’d moved in together.  “Did I wake you up?”

Though his concern is real, you know it’s a distraction too.  His way of deflecting, shifting the focus back to you.  

(Jeon Jungkook doesn’t live in the spotlight.  Hates it, in fact.  It’s a curious combination - wanting to be praised, to show off, and yet fearing failure so strongly.  A worrying mix when he’s down and an endearing one when he’s up.)

You’re still cocooned, still held far enough away that he hasn’t run for the hills, locking himself in the bathroom to put a further physical barrier between you.  Should you move too fast, you know he’ll spook.  Push too hard, he’ll leave.  

“Couldn’t sleep without you.”  It’s true enough.  Dreams had evaded you for the better part of the evening, held somewhere by hands inked like his, blemished by scars and calluses like his. They’d been kept in his coat pocket, tucked behind his ear.  (So maybe it’d been anger, too, that’d kept you up.  That doesn’t matter now.)

The disbelief is evident, both in his words and the quirk of his mouth, bathed in dim light.  “Really?”

(You sometimes wonder how different the two of you see things.  What a day looks like from his point of view - whether he reads all of your interactions in the same way.  You’ve always been terribly incompatible in that way, opposites in so many respects that it’d frankly baffled your friends when you’d started dating.

You were intent - sometimes too intent - on resolving problems, never letting up.  Forcing conversations you felt you needed to have, demanding answers even before there was one.  He, on the other hand, was uncomfortable with conflict, choosing to ignore the things that bothered him until they went away.  It’d driven you absolutely insane at first, made you worry that it was you that was the issue, simply being too much.  

But over time - three long years, to be exact - you’d found a common ground.  Or so you’d thought.)

“Why are you so surprised?”  

“You were pissed earlier.”  There’s a lightness to his tone, careful consideration poured into each word he offers, as if he’s navigating a minefield.  You’ve had these kinds of disagreements too many times for him to believe otherwise, as if his caution is a part of him, stitched lovingly - forcefully - by your hand.  “Thought you wouldn’t wait up for me.”  

“I shouldn’t have,”  you retort before you can help it, still just a little childish, a little hurt.  “But you know I hate going to bed angry.”  Of course he knows.  He’s lost hours of sleep due to your insistence that everything be talked out. 

He hums a noncommittal sound - more of a grunt - and you know your window is closing.  Now that you’re not out for blood, he’s retreating as he always does.  Readying himself to rise from the bed, close this half-read chapter and move onto the next. 

You beat him before he can, curling your fingers around his wrist, over the dangling silver chain.  (His birthday gift this year, heavy metal that’s cold under your touch.)  

“Don’t.”

One blink.  Another.  Slow and confused - deliberately so.  Then he’s looking away, staring down at the ground as if you haven’t just read his next move.  The ring might be his domain but home is yours;  it’s the one place you hold the upper hand.  “What?”  

“Don’t leave.”  It’s easy to read the meaning in between your words, the unspoken request that might as well be brilliant red ink.  It’s far kinder than your usual demands, more pleading than begrudging, more need than want.  

“I need to shower.”  

It’s not a no - which you suppose is a win. 

“Just wait.”  Your request comes with an adjustment, whole tired frame rising from the bed only to sink back down - this time against your partner, your other half, your infuriating love.  He accepts you readily, dropping his ink-strewn hand over your covered thigh.  The weight is comforting over the warmth of the duvet, grounding you in the quiet of your home.

“I’m gross,”  he complains, though he doesn’t make to move away.  Stays right by your side when you drop your head against his bare shoulder.  “Now you’re gross.”

“We can be gross together.”  Because you’re not ready for him to leave you, to close the door as he so often does.  (And, for once, you’re not quite as angry, not seeking an argument that’ll give you the resolution you hope for.  You want communication, open and honest.  You want him, vulnerable and soft.)

A little sigh comes, a puff of breath that expands his doughy cheeks and sends wayward strands fluttering.  It’s less resigned and more endeared - you know how much it means when his acquiesces like this.  

Maybe he wants those same things, you think.  

“Do you wanna shower?”  You ask in perfect tandem, words folding together.  You nod in the same way.

Encased in the small space - it’s different.  He’s preoccupied, back turned to you, shielding you from the slow-heating stream.  It’s as if his mind is a thousand lightyears away, trapped somewhere with the stars as the water rains down around the two of you, fogging the glass and wetting his hair. 

“Babe?”  

There’s a delay before he reacts, peering over his shoulder at you, a faraway look in his eyes.  You wonder what he’d been thinking of, whether he’s still on the same page as you or if he’s skipped ahead as he tends to do.  When he speaks, you have your answer, his words flicking through paper to bring you two where you need to be.  

“Can you wash my hair?”  An indulgent treat he rarely requests, one he seldom allows.  He’s far too on the go, jumping from this to that to spend much time like this with you. 

It’s a sign if there ever was one. 

You reach for your shampoo bottle wordlessly, popping the cap and depositing sweet peach-scented liquid into your hands.  They fold into his strands carefully, tips of your fingers pressing into his scalp, delightful bubbles accumulating between your digits.  He doesn’t make a sound but you feel the way he relaxes, practically melting into your touch as you work the cleanser through his roots, careful to keep the suds from descending into his eyes. 

When was the last time you’d done this?  Weeks ago?  Months, maybe?  You honestly can’t recall.  (Not that it matters now.  You’ve found yourselves back here, terribly tender and intimate in the dead of night.  Almost as if no time has passed at all.)

Silence stretches between the two of you.  You don’t even need to instruct him to rinse, running seamlessly through the routine without hesitation. 

Conditioner replaces shampoo, deft fingers combing through the few knots in his feather soft strands.  Though there are hardly any, you know he loves when you take extra care, treating him in ways he’d never ask for otherwise.  He savours these quiet moments of almost-solitude, spoiled rotten by your familiar touch and comforting affection.  

You’d give it every single day if you could.  Had, in fact. 

That’s what’d brought you here, after all. 

“‘m sorry,”  he says - mumbles really - surprising you as you’re working your fingers into the nape of his neck, concentrating on the tension that’s carved out a home beneath muscle and sinew, turned bone iron-clad. 

“For what?” 

Any other time, it might’ve come across demanding, needing an answer that would soothe whatever inadequacy he’d somehow strung your heart up with.  Now, it’s genuine, asked more for him than you.  

You want to be let in.  Need it. 

“Being out of it, I guess.”  It’s a lot for him - admitting this.  “I’ve just been busy and I guess I kind of just—“  The imposing line of his shoulders rise and fall, a mountain range disturbed by the uncertainty in his voice.  

“Forgot about me?”  You don’t mean it meanly.  It’s a simple statement of fact, one the both of you have to face. 

“Yeah.  Something like that.”

You deliberate accepting the apology and moving on, sweeping it under the rug because he’s already come so much further than you’d thought he would.  But that’s not the kind of person you are, so you press just a little more, stand just a little taller. 

“I don’t think I ask for the world, Kook.”  Maybe more than some people.  Maybe less than others.  “If I’m being too much, I’d rather you let me know than shut me out.”

A sigh comes, so heavy you wonder whether he might be Atlas, carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders.  

“No, I know.”  

“Do you?”

(At some point you’d stopped massaging the conditioner in, opting to crowd your hands over his back, working into the knots that run beneath his skin.  He hadn’t been lying - he’s stiff as a board, entire broad form twitching any time you press the pads of your thumbs into a particularly sensitive spot.)

“I thought I’d figure it out myself,”  he reasons, in that oh-so impossible Jeon Jungkook way of his.  “Didn't realise it was taking a toll on you.” 

“On us,”  you correct, not at all tactful.  

“On us,”  he agrees with another sigh, smaller this time, tinged blue with something that feels like guilt and fills up the glass space. 

“We’re a team, you know.” 

(You know he knows.  You just have to remind him sometimes, anchor him with the knowledge that it’s not him against the world.  That you’re in his corner - always.)

“I know.” 

When he turns to look at you - doesn’t even flinch when the sudden movement has you wobbling on your feet, catches you when you stumble - you don’t doubt that.  He loves you just as much as you love him, sees the whole world in the small of your stare.  

“I’m sorry,”  he says again, two hands coming to cradle your face, palms warm over each cheek.  “Just give me some time.”  For what, you’re not sure.  You don’t mind waiting to find out though - willing to weather the storm just to see him happy.  

Jungkook holds you close, threads his fingers through yours and peppers love into the silk of your hair.  Dresses your skin in the heat of his affection and sears his signature into the velvet of your skin, teeth dragging, tongue gliding.  

“Is this better?”  He means how he holds you, how he treats you like porcelain as he fucks you slow and tender, keeps one leg hooked back over his own. 

It’s not that this is the kind of lovemaking you prefer but rather the one you need, with him consuming you wholly, sweetly, filling you with each fluid roll of his hips and nothing else.  No elaborate dirty talk, no overzealous bouncing, just the two of you together, curled against each other like you might not survive otherwise.  

He’s not pushing you to your finish with deft fingers over your clit, not taking his fill with greedy hands.  He’s simply there, with you, feeling every curve of your body as he sinks into your aching cunt and sighs as if he’s in heaven.  (And maybe he is - because where he is could only ever be where you are and you feel like you’re floating, weightless and lovestruck, anchored only to your bed by the hand that squeezes yours and the mouth that purrs your name.) 

“Yes,”  you breathe, exhale in a breath that seems to take all of your effort.  It’s hard to focus when he splits you open so well, fills your pussy and your heart and makes your chest erupt with a kaleidoscope of butterflies. 

“I love you, sweetheart.”

When he says it like that - folds it like a promise and tucks it into the spot behind your ear - you know it’s true.  Even if you don’t always feel it, even if he doesn’t always show it, there’s not a doubt in your mind. 

In all the ways he can, he loves you.  And whether that means enough from one day to the next, you don’t mind sticking around to find out.  Not if it means more of this. 

(Of him, of you, of your life together.)

tag list.  @neverthefirstchoice @youwannabelostandnotbefound @snackhobi @codeinebelle

[existslikepristin]

Impromptu Review

Thanks for editing this one goes to momirene and Worldsover, and for helpful beta reading feedback from them and one dork who wants to remain anonymous.

Tags: TheLounge, Red Velvet, SNSD (Girl's Generation), Joy, Sunny, loneliness, potential traumatization of cats, a hoard of hell-themed sex toys, a strap on, a butt plug with Jiu's face in it, and bisexual problems.

The front door of Sunny’s apartment swung open so fast that Joy felt a breeze from the vacuum it left behind.

“Joy! You’re here!”

Joy blinked. “Yeah, I said I would come over.”

“It’s been so long since we’ve met up! Come in, come in!”

“It’s only been like a month though.”

Sunny grabbed Joy’s hands and pulled her through the doorway. “It feels like so much longer than that!”

Joy smiled and took her shoes off in the entryway. “You seem more excited than usual.”

“What? How so?”

“Well for one,” Joy said, pointing at the kitchen, “It looks like you prepared for a whole party in here.”

The kitchen’s island was covered in plates of snacks and several variations of alcoholic beverages. Additionally, Sunny was noticeably sweaty, like she had just run around the house preparing for guests. Joy figured it would be best not to bring that up.

“What? No. That? That’s… yeah, that’s a lot of food, isn’t it?” Sunny’s posture drooped, as if she’d already expended all of her energy on her greeting.

Joy pulled her into a side hug. Her height served to straighten Sunny back up. “What’s going on, girl?”

Sunny sighed and leaned her head on Joy’s chest. “I dunno. I’m just excited. Haven’t had a good social night any time recently.”

“Aw! But what about these cutie kitties?”

Sogeum popped her head out from behind the wall and gave Joy her signature droopy, grim stare without so much as a meow. As soon as Joy shuffled in her direction though, she turned and went back into the living room.

“Well, you know. Can’t really have a real conversation with the cats.”

Joy hummed her agreement and stepped into the kitchen. “I’m always happy to talk to you Sunny. They don’t call SM a family for nothing.”

Sunny groaned, loudly.

“Um. Okay,” Joy said when Sunny didn’t elaborate. “Not a family? Just a bunch of really close friends?”

“Yeah, that’ll work better. Not a fan of the family motif.”

Joy picked up a cracker and chomped down. “Gonna… explain? Family is normally a positive thing, isn’t it?”

Sunny grabbed a bottle of wine and yanked the cork out. “Yeah, totally, for sure. Hey, do you like Chardonnay?”

“I…” Joy didn’t want to skirt around whatever issue Sunny was having, but was well-aware of her stubbornness. “I sure do.”

As fancy glasses of white wine were generously poured, Joy made note of Sunny’s slow, unsteady movements. She worried that perhaps Sunny had already started drinking, or wasn’t getting enough sleep.

* * *

“Can you believe that, Joy?”

“No way. It’s just inhuman.”

“Completely! It’s not like green onions are suddenly more expensive to dry out!”

The conversation had started with gossip and cheese snacking when the sun was high. As the sun set, the discussion shifted to the price of instant meals, and the snack plates were all but empty. Joy had to fight the constant urge to fall asleep, as the topics were never much more interesting than that. But she let Sunny lead the talking as much as possible.

Joy was simply relieved that Sunny called her over before diving into her liquor storage. “You should start a petition to regulate the price. I’d be the first to sign it.”

Sunny’s tipsy grin matched Joy’s. Though the alcohol consumption had been slow-going, they had been doing it for several hours. “Oh that would be great press. ‘Washed up idol upset with ramen manufacturers.’”

With an exaggerated roll of the eyes, Joy pointed at a set of boxes in the corner of the living room, currently being used as a lookout tower by Sogeum. “You’re not washed up yet. Look at all of those sponsor gifts. Those weren’t here last time I came over… Wait, they weren’t, were they?”

Sunny giggled. “No, they’re, uh… new.”

Their corporate sponsors weren’t something that Joy, Sunny, or any of the other SM idols discussed often. There were usually so many vying for their attention that it was pointless trying to keep track. But Joy reasoned, somewhat drunkenly, that talking about it might be therapeutic to someone so down on their social status. “Who are they from, anyway?”

A blush deepened the red of Sunny’s already tipsy-glowing cheeks. “Uh… Nobody. Just a regular sponsor, ya know?”

Joy grinned. “Oh, come on. You can tell me. What am I gonna do? Call a press conference to tell the tabloids who’s contributing to your paycheck?”

Sunny rolled her eyes. She shot off the couch, spilling a drop or two of her wine in the process. From Joy’s naturally higher perspective, Sunny didn’t seem that much taller. “Fine,” she said, wobbling, “but you better not make fun of me.”

“I’ll make fun of you for other reasons, like how much I love you, bitch!” Joy blinked at her own shouting. She didn’t know when the alcohol had hit her, but she was beginning to think that she was a little more intoxicated than she previously thought.

Thankfully, the joviality in her voice seemed to encourage Sunny to play along. She set her wine on the coffee table and picked one of the smaller boxes off of the pile. “Disclosure first! We haven’t agreed to any deals yet. They sent me this stuff to try to convince me to shill it. I didn’t reach out to them.”

Joy waved the disclosure off like a mosquito, but Sunny still tossed the box in her direction. The weight inside of it was awkwardly distributed. Joy attempted to catch it, but it wound up ricocheting off the tips of her fingers and nearly knocking over an open, mostly full bottle of soju.

“The fuck is in this thing?”

“I’ve got some ideas but I just know who it’s from. Open it and find out.”

Joy tore into the box with no regard for the care that went into the packaging, which itself was surprisingly discreet. A smirk cracked her lips when she thought about what sorts of deliveries required such discretion. But the smirk faded right away when she got a view of the inside and realized that the packager apparently had the same idea.

Inside was a pair of plastic sheets wrapped asymmetrically around a roughly water bottle sized blob of blood red silicone. A small bit of pink cardboard advertised it as a five-speed, rotation-simulating, self-cleaning, pattern-switching, USB-charging, automatically-lubricating, remote-controlled vibrator with a speaker at the bottom for replicating a set of desired moans and a specialized charging dock.

Joy cleared her throat and stared at the horrifically fancy dildo, and its label, “Dante’s Dive,” unsure if she should toss it back to Sunny, considering it was clearly a personal item.

Sunny reached into what was left of the box, procuring a pretty little decorated card. “Dear Ms. Lee, we at Second Ring Inc were very pleased to hear your impromptu review of our products on a recent episode of ‘Welp, I Guess We’re Talking About This Now’ and wished to send you some additional items to show our appreciation. These are in no way a request for further public review,” Sunny was briefly interrupted by Joy’s disapproving snort, “but should you be interested in a partnership, we have included a phone number at which I, the chief executive officer, Lee Youngjoon, may be reached. Optionally, my username--”

Joy missed a few words as she was shocked by the extreme sound emitted by the vibrator when she pushed a button on the remote control.

“--is ‘worldsover’. As you know, Second Ring specializes in sexual wellness products, of which we’ve sent you a wide variety. They can be enjoyed by couples, or can serve as a fantastic outlet for power singles like yourself…”

Sunny trailed off. Joy was afraid she knew what was coming. “Damn, Sunny. You say so much as three words on national television and they scramble to get right up on your ass, eh?”

It was too late. Sunny was already tipping up the bottom of the soju bottle. A few drops spluttered back out of her mouth as Joy pushed it back down. “Sunny! You’ve said it yourself! You don’t want to get married!”

“Doesn’t mean I’m not still lonely!”

Joy wrapped her arms around Sunny. “You’ve got me. And a million other friends!”

“Fans don’t count.” Sunny’s voice was partially muffled by Joy’s shoulder.

“Ouch. Time for me to delete my Sone club membership. But fine. A hundred other friends. It’s not just me. It’s my members. Your members. And plenty of others. All of NCT would be--Okay, nevermind. Aespa though! They love you too.”

“But I don't want to inconvenience you." Sunny ended so matter-of-factly that Joy had to pause to process the short conversation.

"You know how… You know how you take a road trip, and there's a road block, or really bad construction, and you have to take a detour?"

"Yeah. I'm a detour."

"Come on, Sunny. What you are is the scenic route!”

There was a long silence.

“Was that the end of the metaphor?” Sunny eventually asked.

“I am very drunk.”

“You’re not that drunk.”

“Drunk enough to be shit at metaphors.”

“It’s…” Sunny extricated herself from Joy’s hug. “It’s okay. I think I know what you’re getting at, and I appreciate it. It’s just that a few words don’t really fix a brain, you know?”

Joy nodded slowly, watching as Sogeum casually stalked across the room. “Yup. But believe me. I’m here for you, at least. So if you need a friend, or some company, I’m at the top of your list.”

The cat plopped herself on the floor, right up against Sunny’s leg. Joy giggled. “Fuck off, kitty. I just said I was the top.”

It seemed the topic of conversation was ready to change. Sunny smiled, and it was enough to indicate her understanding.

“So!” Joy moved things along. “A pile of free, top of the line sex toys in your living room. What’s a young woman to do about that?”

Sunny snorted. “Well I’m not going to masturbate while I have company over, that’s for sure.” She grabbed another box from the pile and handed it over, doing her best not to disturb Sogeum’s new resting place.

The new box took mere seconds to open, this time revealing a black silicone butt plug with a red gem in the base. The casing suggested that a picture could be inserted beneath the gem, and it appeared there was one already there as an example. Joy had to flip it around to a variety of angles before she could make out that it contained a headshot of Dreamcatcher’s Jiu making finger hearts on her cheeks. She cocked her head, wondering if the image had actually been authorized.

Another box swapped between the womens’ hands. It took Joy a little longer to open than the last, but it turned out to be that way for a good reason, given that it was gently holding some fragile cargo: A red-tinted glass bottle of lube, labeled as “Juice from the Fruit of The Tree.” The lengthy product title had a snake winding through the letters.

“Well now they’re just really doubling down on this theme, aren’t they?” Sunny asked as she worked out how to open the next package, using her bottle opener as a makeshift knife.

Joy laughed and picked up yet another, now eager to see what kind of wild object it would contain. “Yeah, they really are! No lie, they’re starting to give me some ideas. Talk about sinful.”

“‘Oh I know,’” Sunny mocked the company, as SM artists often did, fingers still struggling to find their way under the first cardboard flap. “‘Let’s send Sunny a whole pile of sex junk. Bet she’s sinful enough to use it all.’ Like, come on Love-eye, or whatever your name is. What’s a single woman gonna do with all this? Hold up a pillow fort?”

“Hey, maybe he doesn’t know you’re single. Maybe there’s some stuff in here that takes two to tangle with… Fuck. Choerry’s got me using alliterations.”

Sunny barely managed to get her fingers inside the box, but her knuckles were turning white from the tightness of it. It seemed that she had left a portion of the packing tape uncut. “I said I was single on the show, though. I don’t think there will be any couples’ toys in here.”

“Oooh, I’m gonna make it a bet now.” Joy smirked. Her next sentence bypassed her verbal filter through the holes left in it by the alcohol. “If you get that thing open and there’s a strap on inside, you have to fuck me with it!”

A jerk of her arms snapped the remainder of the packing tape. Sunny chuckled. “You’re on. There’s no way it is.”

Joy had to admit that Sunny had a point, considering how small the package was. Surely it couldn’t fit a series of leather straps, or a dildo any larger than a couple of inches in any direction. The little voice in the back of her mind that told her making such an offer was stupid quieted down somewhat.

There was a moment of quiet. Sogeum rolled away from Sunny and made her way to the kitchen. Joy picked up another box, confident that she hadn’t just placed herself in an awkward situation. Sunny shook her head, amused. And then…

“J-Joy?”

Joy looked back, but wasn’t quite sure what she was looking at. It was a sort of mass of black string with some silver discs hanging off of it. Another piece of pink paper fluttered to the floor, where Joy picked it up and read aloud.

“‘The Obol.’ As Charon ferried Dante across the Styx and into the hole that is Hell, so too shall this state-of-the-art magnetic harness ferry our exclusive Dante’s Dive dildo into your… partner’s hole…”

There was more to be read, but both women seemed to get the point. The only sound in the room came from Sogeum chomping through some hard cat food in the kitchen. Slowly, their eyes raised and met. They both spoke at the same moment.

“That was a bet’s a joke bet right?”

Their drunken minds needed a moment to detangle their words into distinct sentences. Sunny’s “That was a joke, right?” and Joy’s “A bet’s a bet.”

Sunny started again first. “You know, we don’t have to.”

“I will if you want to.”

Every sentence being exchanged was followed by a palpable stillness. Joy’s heart beat loudly in her own ears, and she swore she could hear Sunny’s too.

“Do you… want to fuck me with that, Sunny?”

Sunny answered instantly. “Yup.”

There was a flurry of action, though it was slowed here and there by a tipsy stumble or two. Sunny gathered up an armful of the items on her coffee table, both sex toys and the bottle of soju, and sprinted for the bedroom. Joy rushed after her, messily attempting and failing to remove some of her clothes on the way.

Sogeum was spooked by the sudden kerfuffle and fled out of sight.

The bedroom was no less hectic. Sunny dropped everything on the bed except the soju, which she took one more swig of directly from the bottle before setting it dangerously close to the edge of her desk. She wiggled out of her shirt and bra, which attracted Joy’s attention instantly.

Joy struck at Sunny’s cleavage, wrapping her fingers as far as they could go around the legendary orbs, and her lips around one of the budding tips. Their differences in height made it awkward, but they very soon found their way to a horizontal state that eased that tension. Unfortunately, it was not on the bed, but on the floor, but they weren’t about to let something like that stop them.

What clothes they were still wearing exploded off their bodies. Joy’s shorts and shirt, Sunny’s pants and socks. All of it ended up in different sections of the room, thrown under and over furniture.

Joy was no stranger to encounters like this, and neither was Sunny. They had shared countless stories with each other… and some spit. But neither had considered their prior make out sessions to be precursors to explicitly sexual action. For her part, however, Joy considered this one differently, and Sunny’s hands searching half-blindly for Joy’s ass confirmed to her that Sunny thought the same.

Backs arched. Legs ground against one another. Open mouths met, trading the alcoholic scents that the women no longer cared to distinguish. Their minds had devoted themselves entirely to the search for physical pleasure.

A lot of exploratory prodding led Sunny’s fingers to the entrance to Joy’s pussy, failing to notice the number of pokes that ended up at Joy's exit. She took some time familiarizing herself with the drenched outer folds.

Joy, however, noticed the poking at her ass. Her mind swam with serotonin, thoughts of other people, and alcoholic fumes that seemed to rearrange the letters of her thoughts into nonsense. Or possibly into inspiration.

Inspiration relevant to the happenings at the prior year's award shows, that is.

Joy tried to pull back the moment Sunny’s fingers dipped inside her. She had opened her mouth to speak but instead groaned and arched herself further into Sunny’s grip on her sanity. "S-Sunny. B-bed."

At least that message was received loud and clear. Sunny dragged her fingers against Joy’s G-spot as she, disappointingly, pulled them out, nearly causing Joy to scream. The same fingers plunged into Joy’s mouth and quieted her as she diligently sucked her own juices from them.

The action transferred to the bed. Fingers immediately found their places again, and Joy bounced on her back in time with Sunny’s brutal shoves. Packaging bounced all around them. It was like a desperate, distracted game of Vegetable Shinobi for Joy, swiping at the jumping dildo. Sunny’s fingers were divine, eye-wateringly so, but Joy wanted something unholy.

Sunny muttered Joy’s name, catching her attention again. She lifted her head to meet for yet another imprecise kiss. Their legs twisted around each other. Joy could hear the desperation in Sunny’s moans, vibrating all the way down her throat, burning like the alcohol. She snaked a hand between them and found Sunny’s clit.

The moans freed themselves as Sunny bucked backward, almost out of Joy’s longer reach. Joy noted the exceptional reaction, and flipped Sunny onto her back, following immediately and putting herself in the position of power Sunny had initiated.

“You’re gonna fuck me with the strap on… right, Sunny?”

Sunny’s eyes widened, and she grabbed the toys.

“No, not yet,” Joy stalled in her most seductive voice. She slid down, nearly falling off the bed, and wrenched Sunny’s legs wide open with her elbows.

Sunny clenched her fingers around the hell-themed dildo for dear life. Joy’s name poured through her lips over and over again as Joy’s lips poured over her pussy.

Joy had to fight Sunny’s strength to keep her spread thighs from clamping around her head. She wanted to keep hearing her senior beg, loud and clear. To that end, she dug in her tongue, unable to penetrate far, but far enough to open Sunny up and feel the wetness flow into her mouth.

“Please… Joy… I’m close… Joy, please! Joy, don’t stop!”

The thought flitted through Joy’s head, that perhaps denying Sunny her orgasm would be fun, but something about the way she said it made Joy wonder if Sunny’s neediness was rooted in her loneliness, more than in her desire to get off. She shifted herself to wrap her arms under Sunny’s legs and pulled. It wasn’t possible for them to be any physically closer than they were, but she wanted to make it feel like they could be.

Sunny’s voice cracked, choked, and broke into a scream. Joy winced as her tongue was squeezed uncomfortably, but she wasn’t about to stop. The back arches, hair grasping, and pained gasps that followed were worth it.

Joy kept it up until Sunny’s body fell back down and her muscles relaxed. Only then, she removed herself to ask, “Need a break before my turn?”

A smile crept up Sunny’s mouth. Her fingers tightened around the dildo she still had in her hand. “Get… back down here.”

If there was any benefit Joy appreciated most about idol training, it was recovery speed, and Sunny still had it. Joy picked up the strap, quickly figuring out how it was supposed to fit and sliding it up Sunny’s legs. The motion doubled as her approach for another make out.

Of course, Joy was still immensely horny. Her interest in making out with Sunny was overshadowed by her desire to get fucked savagely, but she had the wherewithal to hold out, to let it happen naturally. She was always good at letting others take the lead. Whether they led from the top or from the bottom didn’t especially matter to her.

The alcohol made her more impatient than usual though. She forced herself to wait for the five-speed pounding she’d get, but she ground herself against Sunny’s leg in the meantime. Thankfully she didn’t have to wait long. Sunny threw her to the side and attached the vibrator to the unusual strap with very little trouble. Joy fingered herself as she watched.

“Fuck, yes, Sunny. This is going to be so goo--”

Sunny practically tackled Joy. Their lips collided again, strap hovering somewhere between Joy’s legs, but not close enough for her to feel it.

The moment she did, though, Joy grabbed Sunny’s ass and pulled. The lack of accuracy was made up for by the inhuman amount of lubrication present; both Joy’s and the curious synthetic compound that the dildo exuded seemingly of its own volition.

It was almost too much for Joy. The dildo was certainly longer than any she had used before, and bottoming out at full speed meant it hit her rather painfully in the cervix. She hissed, but otherwise just readjusted her legs in Sunny’s way to prevent the same thing from happening so easily again.

The strap held the dildo in place on Sunny’s body well. Despite its genuinely small frame, it seemed to prevent all wiggling. Every one of Sunny’s movements, including the less delicate, more intoxicated ones, translated to sensations that felt to Joy like a biologically attached dick, albeit with a plethora of extra features.

"You're so pretty, Joy," Sunny said. Even though she was doing all the work now, she wasn't nearly as winded as before. Knowing she’d affected Sunny made Joy grin into another kiss.

“No you,” Joy said with a smirk. She knew this would be good, but she truly underestimated how great it would be to see Sunny’s famous tits jiggling with the effort of fucking her. The sheen of sweat covering them would ensure the night wouldn’t be forgotten, even if Joy had another drink or two.

Joy’s first orgasm struck quickly and unexpectedly. Her breath stopped and a shudder spiked through her body from her core to the tips of her toes and fingers and head. The ability to think normally left her for a brief moment. She only kept the fleeting question of whether or not Sunny was able to feel Joy’s climax. Stars popped in and out of existence, obscuring Joy’s view of Sunny’s fantastic body.

It all faded relatively soon after, but it wasn’t enough for Joy. As soon as her lungs refilled, she screamed, “More! Sunny! Fuck me! Fuck me! Oh god!” She was practically numb everywhere, except for every square inch of her that the dildo rubbed, slid, and vibrated against. Her arms and legs wrapped around Sunny on their own.

Joy, eyes half closed, barely registered when Sunny slowed down to grab and open the extra package. She did, however, notice the sudden prodding feeling at her asshole.

“Sun--”

She couldn’t even finish Sunny’s name before something slipped its way into her butt. Her vision cleared up enough to see that even while she continued thrusting, Sunny had one hand tucked between them, and it was the source of the extra intrusion.

A couple more thrusts though, and Joy was lost to the pleasure again. She started to pant instead of scream or moan, or perhaps she was whimpering, or speaking fluent Polish. Joy couldn’t have said one way or the other. Another orgasm hit. And another. And another. She knew some time was passing between each one, but whether it was seconds or days between no longer mattered. Her mind was fading out of existence.

Until, that is, it wasn’t.

With seemingly no provocation, Joy suddenly remembered Cheungae. She had been meaning to talk to Sunny about him before they had gotten drunk. Her mind wandered, far, far more than it normally would during such intense sex.

Cheungae had taken her out several times since their first, less-than-professional meeting at the MAMAs with Wheein. Even though Joy knew he was struggling financially, he always insisted on paying for coffee, but would give up if he saw the bill when Joy took him to some of the much higher end restaurants.

He was always so polite, genuine, and humble. He didn’t even question when Joy told him they couldn’t be in a relationship, but instead insisted that they could be friends. Joy wondered if it was fair to him that she was treating him as a boyfriend in every way but name while she was still having a grand old time fucking everyone else in the industry. Cheungae knew about it, but wasn’t part of it.

And yet, sex with Cheungae made Joy feel good. Great, even. She could recreate the sensations in her mind for days afterward. His slim, toned figure hovering over her, his face contorted beautifully in adorable agony, his admittedly mediocre cock managing to hit her just right with every move. She couldn’t stop picturing him.

Another orgasm smashed through Joy’s illusion. The mental image of perfectly human Cheungae was instantly replaced with the very physical image of god-like Sunny. As tended to happen, Joy held her breath as the climax coursed through her. Her muscles contracted until she was holding Sunny in a deathly grip.

“F-fuck. Sunn-ny. Slow… slow down.”

It seemed that the request was desperately needed by both lovers, because rather than simply slow down, Sunny fell over. Joy’s pussy immediately craved to be filled again, but she knew she needed to clear her head. And besides that, she still had an odd full sensation. When her muscles relaxed enough for her to move of her own volition, she reached beneath herself and recoiled again at the feeling of a drenched butt plug. Her fingertips carried a puddle of mixed cum and lube back up.

“I’m sorry… Joy… I think that’s all I have left in me,” Sunny said between gasps.

Joy made note of her own throat and how dry it was. Whatever sound she was making while she borderline hallucinated, she’d be regretting it for a while. “All good. I was losing my sanity. That was unbelievable.”

Sunny giggled. It sounded painful. “The vibrator… or the surprise plug?”

Joy giggled back. “The plug was definitely a surprise. Was that the one with Jiu's face in it?”

“Mhm.”

“Cool,” Joy sat up, her head swimming in the aftermath. “But I just think it was you using the stuff that made it so good.”

Sunny seemed invigorated by the compliments. She smiled and reached under the bed, making some noise and bringing up a bottle of water. The two of them swapped it back and forth until it was empty and then collapsed into one another, idly feeling each others' bodies up the whole time.

“Does that mean you’re up for another… night like this? Or day?” Sunny asked as she fondled Joy’s tits. It sounded like she had sobered up, at least most of the way. Joy was too afraid of what she would see to look at a clock.

“You fucking know it,” Joy responded while she brushed her fingers up and down Sunny’s inner thighs. It was a reflex for her to agree, but she cringed inwardly as soon as she did, realizing how much more sober she had become herself, and how she wished she wasn’t. She was thinking about Cheungae again.

There was a barrage of light kisses all over her face, neck, and chest. Sunny looked far too happy for Joy to feel okay about retracting her statement.

“Maybe not right now though,” Joy said, just in case Sunny was already getting ideas. “We should really get to bed.”

She didn’t hear any arguments. They simply got up, and only long enough to flip up the duvet, flinging all of the remaining sex toys off, and jumped underneath.

It took a minute for Joy to realize she needed to remove the surprise butt plug. It was easy enough, and she ended up tossing it to the floor without looking at it.

Joy wrapped herself around Sunny. She was usually the big spoon, not that it bothered her. Sunny’s bare back felt comfortably hot against her chest and stomach. Cheungae liked being the big spoon too. He’d swap with her all the time…

“Hey, Sunny?”

“Mmm?” Sunny was on the verge of sleep, it seemed.

Joy lowered her voice, barely above a whisper. “Have you ever thought about… Settling down, I guess? Just being with one person?”

She didn’t expect Sunny to have an immense store of wisdom, but she hoped for more than what she got: a snore.

“Good night to you too, Sunny.”

[backtobackbakubabe]

Speak Easy Part 18

Dabi x Reader, Bakugo x Reader

Words : 4276

Masterlist

Reader has a siren quirk and has spent the past several years of her life as a captive being experimented on by “heroes” Now that she’s out she needs protection and safe place to heal. Who will be the one to put her pieces back together.

Words with ‘this’ is dialogue written in her journal rather than said out loud and and words with ~this~ is dialogue said in sign language rather than out loud.

**********************************************************************

It’d been a little over a week since Shoto promised to go to the doctor with you and you were getting a little nervous. At first you were just waiting for the doctors to get settled in, but then Shoto was busy helping get things up and running and evacuating people to the bunker. Now you’ve just been chickening out.

Your period was a few days late, which wouldn’t be concerning if it weren’t for your current circumstance.

You woke up this morning and made a cup of coffee before taking Bravo out for a stroll around the bunker. He loved being able to run around and meet new people. He was a hit with the kids. They loved playing with him almost as much as he loved playing with them. The only downside was, there was only two places in the entire massive bunker that he could go to the bathroom. The farm and a small animal relief area near where the trash is dumped.

Needless to say, neither smelled great, but the farm was considerably better. So here you were, sitting on a small platform that oversees the crops with a cup of coffee and a book. Bravo sitting next to you keeping watch.

It was always a little chilly down here, which you honestly preferred. It just meant you could wear lots of hoodies. The more you could hide your body the better. Ever since leaving Dabi’s house you felt like you were always being watched. You felt so exposed and you just wanted to blend into the background.

Today you wore a new hoodie that Izuku had gotten you. It was probably one of the softest things you owned, and it was the prettiest shade of blue. The blue reminded you of a certain someone’s eyes… of the beautiful blue flames they were capable of creating… but then you’d shake the thought from your head and pull it closer around you.

You were enjoying your new freedom. Not that Dabi’s house had been a prison… but you hadn’t realized how much you missed doing things on your own. You had thought being alone would be hard, but you were thriving. It was never being alone that bothered you before, it had been his absence.

Against Katsuki’s wishes… Shoto had shown you the photos of what was left of Dabi’s car. And he hadn’t been exaggerating. You had almost passed out looking at how much blood soaked the driver seat and even the road around it.

You had been so lost lately. You didn’t know how you were supposed to feel. Your heart ached. You thought you had finally found your home. You had finally started to feel your pieces come back together. Now you felt like that would never happen. He took the last few pieces of your heart with him and you felt like you would never be whole again.

Dabi had been your comfort, your safety, your home. Now you were lost.

You hated that you felt this way. You should hate him. You should curse his fucking name. You shouldn’t be crying yourself to sleep over his death.

His death…

Was he dead? You weren’t convinced. It was too convenient, and there wasn’t a body. You wanted proof. Until then you’d go on believing he was still out there.

You closed the book you were reading. You had been on the same page for the past 10 minutes.

There was no way he wrecked his car like that. You had been in the car with him twice. Yes, he drove a little fast… but he wasn’t reckless. Either it was an elaborate cover up, or someone was after him. Or maybe… someone had been after you and he had gotten stuck in the middle as collateral damage.

“You look like you’re thinking too hard.”

Shoto came and took a seat next to you. “I’d ask what’s on your mind, but I’m pretty sure I already know.”

“Am I that obvious?” You leaned your head on his shoulder.

He leaned his head on top of yours. “It’s normal. I’d actually be surprised if you weren’t torn up over it.”

You let out a shaky breath. “I can’t stop worrying about him. I keep wondering where he is. If he’s okay. If there’s some grand explanation for his shitty behavior.” You shrugged. “I’m just finding it hard to grasp that the same man who held me during my panic attacks was also secretly planning to breed me… It just doesn’t add up.”

“Guilt does weird things to people.” Shoto’s hand found yours and gave it a squeeze. “I know he’s my brother, but I have no doubts about who knew him best. I only know a version of him. I only knew what he wanted me to.” He sighed, “It was obvious you meant a lot to him, and I could see him becoming more… I don’t know… human? For the first time in years he was showing emotions that weren’t rage. It would make sense if you were starting to make him question what side he was on.”

Your eyes narrowed, “So what? You think he did some shitty stuff and decided to help me… because he felt guilty about it? That doesn’t make any sense.” You pushed away from him to look him in the eyes. “Dabi only does what Dabi wants to do. That has been clear to me since day one. So what the fuck did he want out of this? None of it makes sense. Was I just a possession to him? Was I a bargaining chip? Was I just some broken pet that he got validation from nursing back to health? What?!”

You could feel your hysteria building and Bravo put his head in your lap in an attempt to calm you down. You took a few deep breaths. “He better fucking be alive… so I can kick his ass myself.”

Shoto chuckled, “Touya doesn’t stand a chance.”

His eyes looked distant and sad. You nudged his shoulder with your own, “Hey can I ask you something?”

He blinked away whatever far away memory he was thinking about, “I don’t see why not.”

“What was he like? Touya I mean… Before he became Dabi.”

Shoto’s lip turned up just slightly, “He was the best big brother I could have ever had. He was always there to help me when our dad was too rough with me. My dad tried to keep us separated… didn’t want me mingling with what he considered to be his biggest failure.” You flinched at the casual way he talked about the abuse they endured. “But Touya would sneak into my room at night. He taught me how to handle my burns and would bring me cold soba on bad days.” His eyes glassed over, “I was devasted when he died. Well… when I thought he died.”

“I blamed my dad, we all did. So, when he came out of hiding, it was like this enormous weight had lifted off of my shoulders. I hadn’t even realized I was carrying it around, but I had never truly gotten over his death.” He chuckled, “So I went looking for him. I didn’t care if he was Touya or Dabi, I just wanted him in my life again. I’d take what I could get. So, I settled for our don’t ask don’t tell relationship.”

You felt a tear that wasn’t yours hit your lap. Of course this would be hard on Shoto, he’s potentially lost his brother for the second time. “If it makes you feel any better… He admitted to me that he loved you.” You smirked, “Well actually he told me he used to hate you which contradicts your story quite a bit. But he said he always wondered if things would have been better for you if he stuck around.”

Shoto laughed, “Sounds like him. Trying to act like the tough guy who didn’t give a shit… Just like how he was with you. I can’t tell you how many times he called me when he was gone checking on you. Texting me every single time your vitals spiked. He would check the cameras and send me voice memos about how he was going to beat my ass if I didn’t keep my hands where he could see them while we were sparing. But then he would deny it when I asked what going on between the two of you.”

“Hey, come on, I have an idea.” You stood and walked over to the corner of the field behind a small tool shed. You picked up a massive rock and moved it so it was hidden from view. “Can you burn his name into it?”

Shoto eyes darkened, “You want to have a funeral? We don’t even know if he’s dead…”

You nodded, “You’re right we don’t… but I think it’ll make it easier. We can have a place to morn him in private. Weather we mourn his death… or the death of who he could have been.”

Shoto’s shoulder slumped and eventually he nodded. His hand heated up and with his finger he wrote on the rock, “R.I.P. TOUYA”

You both sat there for a while just staring at the rock. You felt too cold standing here in the shade of the tool shed. You gripped your hoodie closer to you and held back the tears that you desperately wanted to shed. You knew you shouldn’t, but you let yourself think of Touya. You thought about what he would have been like if he had gone to UA. If he had become a hero. If you had met him under better circumstances. Would the two of you still have ended up together? Without your mountains of combined trauma would you even be the same people?

“You ready? We should head out soon or we’ll be late for your appointment.”

You rubbed your eyes and sniffled, “Yeah… let’s get this over with.”

Bravo wasn’t allowed in the medical side of the bunker, so you made a quick detour to your room to drop him off. Shoto quietly following behind you. “So how are things with you and Bakugo?”

You groaned and rubbed your temples.

Shoto chuckled, “That good huh?”

“He’s been hovering over me like I’m going to shatter into a million pieces at the slightest inconvenience. I appreciate what he’s trying to do… but it’s just too much. I told him I needed space… and we had a fight. He hasn’t spoken to me in two days.”

Shoto whistled, “I never thought I’d see the day that the two of you had a real fight. Sure, you always bickered like an old married couple growing up. But on anything serious he always caved to your every wish.” He paused at your door, “Wait. So, are you the reason he’s been extra grumpy lately?”

You blushed, “I don’t know… Maybe?”

You gave Bravo an extra scratch behind his ear before closing the door. At that same moment you heard the door next door click shut. Your eyes snapped up to meet Katsuki’s. “Oh hey… I didn’t know you were back from the surface yet.”

“Got back early this morning… I was actually on my way to see you. You have a time to get an early lunch? I want to talk to you about something.”

You played with the ends of your hair, which was an immediate give away that you were nervous. “I actually have some plans with Shoto. But I’m free after that. Shouldn’t take too long though.”

His eyes narrowed at your nervous posture and you cursed how well he knew you. “Oh yeah? What are you guys up to? Maybe I’ll tag along.”

You began to stutter but thankfully Shoto interrupted, “Clingy isn’t a good look for you Bakugo. Like she said… it’s not going to take long. Just wait here and she’ll be back soon.”

You saw Katsuki bristle and decided to step in before he picked a fight with Shoto. You stepped over to him and put your hand on his shoulder. “Hey, I just dropped Bravo off. He’s had some pretty bad separation anxiety lately so why don’t you go to my apartment and hang out with him while I’m gone. Make some coffee, pick out a movie or something. I’ll be back soon, and we can talk then.”

His posture softened as he looked you up and down. It was obvious to him that you were nervous. But he was trying his hardest to give you the space you wanted. He pulled you to him as he sighed, trapping you in his arms. “Okay fine. I’ll babysit the mutt. Can you do me a favor and bring back some migraine medication from the medical ward. My heads killing me.”

You nodded stiffly, hoping it was just a coincidence he needed something from the medical ward. “Not a problem. I have the weighted blanket you gave me on the couch if you want to take a nap while I’m gone. You look like you could use one.”

He squeezed you tighter to him. “I’ll be fine.” He leaned his head on top of yours. “I’ll be better once we stop fighting about stupid shit though.” He pressed a quick kiss to the side of your head, “I’ll see you when you get back.” He released you and looked to Shoto, “Try to behave. The two of you hanging out makes me nervous.”

Shoto chuckled, “Good. You should be nervous. If you don’t figure your shit out soon, I’ll be taking your best friend spot… Kacchan.”

You snorted as you pulled Shoto away. “Are you trying to get your ass kicked? You know only Izuku gets away with calling him that! Well… and me when he’s in a good mood. But even that’s pushing it.”

“Oh, he’ll get over it. He needs a reality check. He thinks the world revolves around him.” He led you down the hall. “He can be such a pain sometimes. But I will admit he’s so much easier to be around now than when we were in high school.” He bumped your shoulder, “In a way it’s thanks to you. As sad as it is, when you went missing, he matured. It was like out of nowhere he realized there were more important things in the world then him and his hero status.”

Something about talking about Katsuki’s emotional vulnerability while walking to the clinic to check if you were pregnant with Dabi’s child made you feel slimy. “Can we talk about something else. Literally anything else. How are you and Izuku doing?”

“Good… we settled into our room. It’s a nice enough room… but it’s right next to my dad’s room. Apparently he’s thought all this time that we were just roommates.” He threw his hands up and scoffed, “Honestly! Did he think we were both professional heroes, making tons of money, but couldn’t afford to live on our own?”

You giggled, “That sounds awkward. These walls aren’t exactly thick.”

“Oh believe me I know. And I don’t care. Poor Izuku though can’t even look my dad in the eye now without blushing.”

You laughed so hard you had to wipe away a tear. “Aw poor Izuku… He’s too innocent for this world.”

Shoto scoffed, “Innocent my ass. That man is a freak in—”

You held up a hand. “Stop, stop, stop! I don’t want to know. He is a pure innocent little muffin who used to braid my hair before workouts.”

“I thought Bakugo was the one who braided your hair? I can’t imagine him being okay with Izuku being that close to you.”

You laughed. “Oh he wasn’t at first. But mostly because Izuku was better than him at something. Kats liked to braid my hair in private while we watched TV.” You shook your head at the memory, “He actually got to be really good at it eventually.”

Shoto had succeeded in distracting you long enough to make the trip to the medical ward, but now that you were here the anxiety was creeping back in.

You paused before crossing the threshold. You knew it was important to find out once and for all if you were pregnant. But you were also enjoying living in ignorance. The fact that you didn’t know meant that you could live your life as normal. If you were pregnant… it would flip your entire world upside down. You would have a life you would be responsible for, a little human that would constantly remind you of the love that almost broke you.

If you weren’t pregnant then… you didn’t know how you would feel. Would you be relieved? Would you mourn?

Your hand found your flat stomach and clenched your shirt. You took a few steps further into the ward and was hit an overwhelming sterile smell. Your breathing hitched and your knees shook. It was too clean. It was too white. It reminded you too much of the lab.

Shoto’s hand took yours and gave it a soft tug. “Hey. It’s fine. You don’t have to do all of this. I can go in and request a pregnancy test and we can go back and do this in your room. Would that make you feel better?”

You shook your head, “Katsuki’s there…”

Shoto’s shoulders sagged, “At this point I think he’d be more upset at you hiding this from him. I’m not telling you how to live your life. I think you’ve earned the right to do whatever the fuck you want. But if it were me… I’d want as big of a support system as I could get…”

You chewed on your bottom lip as you thought about it. Did you want Katsuki to know? How would he react? What if you were pregnant? Would he be disgusted with you? Would he want to help? Your head was spiraling down a rabbit hole of what it and it was starting to make you dizzy.

“Hey, breathe! Just take a deep breath. Let’s get you out of here before you have a panic attack. Wait outside for me. I’ll get everything we need.

You pushed the wave of anxious nausea down and gave a shaky nod. “Okay… But remember to get some migraine medication for Ka—”

“Yeah. Yeah, I remember. Go sit down outside and try and focus on your breathing I’ll be right back.”

You made your way outside and immediately sat down and leaned your forehead on your knees. You needed to get these invasive thoughts under control. You thought about what Dabi used to do. He would sit with you and try and distract you by talking about random shit. You knew he’d be pissed if he knew his younger brother left you all alone during one of your episodes. The thought of him yelling at Shoto was almost enough to make you chuckle.

You took a deep breath and held it for a few seconds and started listing animals that start with the letter A. When you couldn’t think of any more you breathed out. Then you repeated the process with the letter B, then C. You had made it F when Shoto made his way back to you.

“Okay, so they gave me some weird looks. Which makes sense considering I am a gay man asking for pregnancy tests. But they didn’t ask too many questions. I have two tests, a bottle of water, some Tylenol, and a phone number for a doctor… you know, for if it’s positive.”

You took his outstretched hand and stood up. “Okay… let’s get this over with.”

Every step towards your room felt heavier than the last. You just wanted to curl up under your blanket and pretend none of this was happening.

You hesitated at your door for a few moments before remembering you were a tough bitch and barreled through it full of false confidence.

You expected to see Katsuki lounging on the couch watching something on the tiny TV. Instead you found him passed out with Bravo curled up next to him. The sight of it calmed your nerves.

“Hey Shoto, can you get some coffee going? I’m going to wake him up.” You tiptoed over to him and sat on the edge of the couch. “Hey…” You shook his shoulder. “Kats? Wake up. I need to tell you something…”

Katsuki grumbled and his arm snaked around you, pulling you down to his level. “Shhh, m’head hurts.”

You giggled “Hey stop I’m being serious… I need you to get up.”

One of his eyes cracked open. “What’s up you sound like you’ve been crying.”

You sighed, “I haven’t been crying, but I am… stressed…” He sat up and moved so you were sitting facing each other. He nodded urging you to go on. “So… The reason Dabi uh… locked me in his office was so he could go to the store to uh… buy a…. pregnancy test.”

Your eyes stared at your hands and you heard him suck in a breath. “Are you? …Pregnant I mean.”

You shrugged, “I don’t know… we got some tests from the medical ward today and I’m about to take them. I’m just… a little scared.”

A medicine bottle whistled through the air and smacked Katsuki in the face. “We got you your medicine too. You’re welcome.” Shoto was smirking over by the coffee maker.

Katsuki groaned as he stood up. “One of these days I’m gonna kick the shit out of you, IcyHot Bastard.”

He stretched and held a hand out to you. “Alright, come on. Let’s go piss on a stick.”

You felt a weight starting to lift from your shoulders. “Wait. So you’re not mad?”

He narrowed his eyes at you, “Why would I be mad? I knew what the two of you were doing. It’s not like you cheated on me. As much as I wish we were, we aren’t together.” His thumb came up to brush a tear away that you didn’t even know had fallen. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily Y/N. You being pregnant wouldn’t change how I feel about you. I would even be willing to tell people it’s mine if it makes it easier for you. Just tell me what you need, and I’ll do it.”

It was quite for a few moments, while you absorbed and processed this new development. He was surprisingly calm about all of this, and it was making it easier for you as well.

“God you’re whipped.” Shoto handed the pregnancy test to you but was smart enough to remain behind you so Katsuki couldn’t hit him.

You left the boys to bicker as you entered your tiny bathroom alone. You peed on both of the sticks and set a timer on Katsuki’s phone. The next three minutes were the longest three minutes of your life.

You paced as you tried to think of anything else. But your thoughts kept going back to that night when Dabi held you in his recliner after fucking you. He had asked about you having a baby. He had sounded so hopeful. His eyes so bright at the idea of you having a kid with him. Part of you couldn’t believe that was an act. He had seemed so sincere. You thought about how he would react if he knew you were taking a test right now.

The timer went off.

Shit.

Was your whole life about to change?

With shaky hands you picked up the first test. You held your breath as you looked to the second one to confirm it.

You opened the door with tears in your eyes.

“So, what’s it say? Am I going to be an uncle?”

You let out an audible sob. “I don’t know why I’m so upset right now.” You showed them the tests. “They’re both negative.”

Katsuki wrapped you in a hug and ran his fingers up and down your back. “It’s okay to be sad. Shoto made some coffee, I don’t have plans today. We can hang out here until you feel better.”

You cried into Katsuki’s chest as you watched some cheesy movie. He didn’t say anything. He wouldn’t even know what to say if he thought it would help.

You were grieving a child you never had, and a love that was nothing but lies. You needed to let it out. You needed to grieve so you could move on. And this is how you do that.

By the time the credits rolled your eyes were dry and you nose stuffy. “You said you wanted to talk to me about something earlier…?”

Katsuki stiffened, “Yeah, but I think it can wait. You’ve already had a rough day.”

You shook your head, “No… I want to know. I’m just going to worry about it until you tell me. I’d rather you just rip the Band-Aid off.”

He nodded, “We got word that Dabi may have been seen by your old place. We aren’t sure it was him though. Toga had been previously spotted as well, so it’s more likely that it was her. But either way, it looks like the LOV is sniffing around.”

“W—What makes you think it was Toga?”

He cleared his throat, “We have an informant working in the LOV and he told us the last thing he heard about Dabi was that Shigaraki had sent a team to collect him… but when they came back they were bloody and he wasn’t with them.”

You sighed, “Of course he wasn’t.”

*************

*The Laws* 1. No fucking shrugging 2. No drugs 3. No saying sorry for something that isn’t your fault 4.We work on communication every day 5. Wake up whenever the hell you want 6. No locked doors 7. We eat three full meals a day 8. No means no, no negotiations 9. We work on exercise every day 10. Ice cream must be kept in stock at all times 11. Accept help when it is offered 12. No lying 13. I will not initiate the sexy time without written or verbal consent.

************

Tags: tags: @falling4fandoms @wifunozomi @here-in-never-land @whore-for-anime @klecksstorys @aurorahoneybuns @theunknownrandom @insane-without-delirium @frenchsfryys @officiallydarkgeek @neofixcs @music-is-all-i-need @katsuki-bakubabe@unadulteratedtastemakerpoetry@dabislittlemouse@aimee1602@pinkhatlizzy @kunaigirlx44 @nii-sanfucker@bestgirlb @silver-stardrop@bakubby99 @squichymochi @sarahschance @babayaga67@starenemy

[procrastinatingsapphictrash]

Can’t leave me behind

Word count: 1668

Genre: Fluff

Pairing: Natasha x reader

Warnings: None (lmk if I should add any)

Request: Could I request natasha x reader with actions 1 and 9 from the prompt list? (1 - Person A finding excuses to hold Person B’s hand, 2 - Person A and Person B are best friends but somehow start to get feelings for each other)

Summary: Natasha holds your hand to prevent you from rushing ahead of her and it’s all you can think about.

A/n: Thanks anon for requesting and sorry that it took me so long to actually write this! Btw this is from a prompt list I no longer use. Wow this one actually didn’t take too long to write! And I’m back on track in terms of writing fics so I’m happy! Anyways, you hear enough of me rambling in the a/n, enjoy the fic!

“Where to now?” You ask as you both exit the small coffee shop you frequent.

“Well I thought that instead of going straight back to the tower we could take a detour through the park, I heard there’s a farmers market going on right now.” She tells you. “But we could just go straight home if you want to.” 

“A farmer’s market sounds great!” You say excitedly, immediately walking in the direction of the nearby park. Natasha gives a small smile at your cuteness before covering it back up and taking a few quick steps so she’s walking beside you. 

The park is only a few blocks away and the farmers market is much bigger than you imagined it would be. Tents line the path selling freshly grown fruits and vegetables, bread, baked goods, honey, meat and some independent food vendors. There are also a few tents that look to be selling jewelry and bags instead of food. Immediately you’re at the first stand looking over the selection of freshly picked berries. Natasha catches up, huffing in annoyance at you. You ignore her, continuing to look over the berries before picking the best of each type; blueberries, raspberries and strawberries.

“Can we get them?” You ask, giving Natasha the best pleading eyes you can.

She sighs, giving in easily. “Fine.” You pump your hand in the air in victory, missing her smile about how cute you look. She quickly pays the owner of the stall and then follows as you search for another place to go.

“Ooooo can we get cookies?” You ask her when you see the bakery stand because the cookies look amazing.

“Of course!” She replies. “Why don’t we go to the juice stand because it’s closer first…” She trails off as she notices that you’ve already made your way to the stand, leaving her behind. She shakes her head at how excitable you are, talking to the person working there enthusiastically, pointing out different cookies.

“Y/n!” She admonishes lightly when she arrives at the stand.

“Sorry.” You tell her, unapologetic. She shakes her head but then buys the cookies you want, plus extras for the team. You almost feel bad that she’s paying for everything but you want cookies so you aren’t going to complain.

“You need to stop running off.” She tells you when you start to walk away, already leaving her behind as she puts the box of cookies in her bag with the berries. “From now on you’re staying with me.” You open your mouth to retort but all that comes out is incomprehensible babbling because she grabs your hand and holds it, not letting go.”

“What-what is that for?” You ask when you regain your normal speaking abilities.

She smirks. “Well now you can’t rush off without me. Do you have any problems with this?”

“No.” You squeak, happy to hold onto her hand.

“Good.” She replies, starting to walk and lead you around the market like nothing is wrong. You don’t even feel the urge to run off again because you honestly can’t pay full attention to anything but Natasha’s hand around your own. She keeps holding it as you go around to stands and doesn’t let it go even on the walk back to the tower. Although you probably should have gotten used to it after the first few minutes you still can’t concentrate as you get on the elevator with her and make your way up to the avengers area.

“Woah, woah, woah, Natasha and Y/n are holding hands!” Tony announces as soon as you step out. Embarrassed you drop her hand. 

“It’s because I kept leaving her behind so she didn’t want me to run away again.” You explain, your cheeks burning.

“Are you sure it’s not because you’re in love?” Tony asks, singsonging the word love. Natasha keeps her composure as always but you nearly choke.

“I’m going to give Bruce a cookie, bye!” You blurt out leaving the room as fast as you can.

“I did not see her holding any cookies.” Steve says, confused by your antics.

Natasha laughs. “That’s because she wasn’t.”

“No. We are not changing the conversation.” Tony butts in. “You were holding hands with Y/n.”

“And what about it?” Natasha counters, raising an eyebrow delicately, something she knew the entire team was jealous of.

“What about it? What about it?” Tony splutters. “The black widow doesn’t just hold hands with people! Are you guys dating?”

“Not yet,” Natasha admits, “I’m dropping some hints before I officially ask her out because I want to be sure she likes me, I can’t ruin our friendship over some one sided feelings.”

“I may not know much about love but Y/n is head over heels for you Natasha.” Steve assures her. “She is always happy around you.”

“Not to mention how flustered she gets.” Tony replies, helpful for once. 

“I’ve been noticing more and more, so should I just go ask her out now?” She asks. 

“Go for it.” Steve encourages and Natasha smiles, nods and begins to walk towards the door. 

“Good luck Romanoff!” Tony shouts after her. “Go get your girl!”

---

“Bruce, hi.” You say, out of breath from your run to the kitchen where you found him.

“Hi.” He replies, bemused. 

“I brought cookies!” You bring up your hands to show him, realizing in horror you had forgotten them. “I’m so sorry, I accidentally forgot to grab them from Nat.”

“It’s okay.” He chuckles. “Maybe we could go get them now?”

You shake your head violently. “No, nope, no, no, no, no, no. We definitely can’t do that.” 

“And why not?” He asks.

“Because I ran away from her.” You reply, feeling a little embarrassed about that now. Natasha had obviously noticed, she notices everything so you just hope she doesn’t ask about your strange behaviour.

“And you ran away from her because…” Bruce prompts, wanting to hear why although already suspecting the general reason.

“Because we were at the farmers market and I kept going ahead of her so she held my hand to keep me beside her but she didn’t let go and it made me feel nervous but it felt so nice and then Tony and Steve saw and asked if we were in love so I left quickly because I’m sort of maybe in love with her.” You ramble, not taking a breath. 

“Okay, calm down.” Bruce instructs. “Do you want to tell her you’re in love with her?”

“Of course not.,” you reply, “I’ve kept it hidden for months and I’m not going to stop now. I’m not going to lose my best friend over some one sided feelings.”

“Sometimes being truthful and open is better in the long run.” Bruce says and you guess it’s supposed to be smart but you are way too scared of Natasha’s reaction to tell her.

“Yeah ok.” You respond sarcastically. “What am I supposed to say? Hi Natasha, I just wanted to let you know that you holding my hand makes me flustered and unable to think because I’m in love with you. By the way I’m sorry I ruined our friendship.”

“Um, I think I’m going to go now.” Bruce says and you look at him confused. He gestures over your shoulder to the doorway where Natasha is standing.

“No, no, please stay.” You beg, and he hesitates on his way out.

“Please go Bruce.” Natasha says, pleasantly but firmly and with that he leaves, giving you a thumbs up behind her back.

Natasha takes a step further into the kitchen and you take a small step back. She takes another and you step back again, gulping. She tilts her head the the side and you can’t see what she’s thinking.

“I make you flustered?” She asks and you nod, knowing there’s no point in hiding it anymore. “And you love me?” You nod again, looking at the ground, the lights, the salt that’s on the counter, looking at anything just to avoid looking at her. 

When you finally look back she’s closer, much closer, just a little bit more than an arms length away. You step back again, you can’t breath. She steps forward, a big step and you try to move back but the counter blocks you. Technically you could go to the sides but you’re not thinking rationally right now, all you can think about is Natasha getting closer and closer until she is close enough to touch.

“Are you flustered now?” She asks, her voice low and flirty, nothing you’ve heard directed at you before.

You feel your face start to heat up. “A little.”

“Hmmm, only a little huh?” She asks rhetorically, stepping in so her body is only an inch from yours. “I’ll have to fix that.” 

You don’t know how to respond but you don’t have to because before you can think she’s leaning in and her lips are on yours and you can’t breathe again. It’s the best thing that you’ve ever felt and you close your eyes to focus on her lips against yours. All too soon she pulls back and you pout at the distance.

“What about now?” She asks.

“I-I, you, it, kiss what.” You respond, your brain not catching up to the situation.

She smirks. “That good?” You nod in reply, not trusting your mouth again. “Well then how about we go on a date? I’ll pick you up tomorrow at six from your room, wear something nice.”

She doesn’t bother waiting for a reply, striding from the room with a level of confidence you could only wish to have. You’re left staring at the doorway with a loopy look on your face, startling when Tony walks through it.

“I see you’ve talked to Natasha.” Is all he says, before casual grabbing a snack and walking out. Leaving you to your thoughts which have returned to being coherent. A smile spreads across your face, you have a real date with Natasha!

---

Taglist: @fayhar @stephanieromanoff @xxxtwilightaxelxxx @acertainredhead @madamevirgo @megaqueenmaeve @cherryblossomskye @thewidowsghost @nyx-aira @stephanieromanoff @stop-drop-and-drumroll @peggycarter-steverogers @casperlikej @wandas-vis @mxxnmocha @king-star​ 

[e-milieeee]

the enemy of my enemy (must be my ally)

Summary: When one of his akumas attacks Adrien and one of his classmates, Gabriel Agreste discovers that Marinette Dupain-Cheng would prove a very useful ally against Ladybug and Chat Noir. 

How had he not discovered sooner? But oh well—better late than never. Ladybug will never know what’s coming. 

Notes: from this post because everyone wanted me to write it. i warned y’all. feat. gabriel’s 2 functional brain cells. 

AO3 | Kofi

Gabriel Agreste isn’t past admitting his mistakes.

Most of them have involved Adrien, so he supposes that it’s time to pay attention to the trend. And all of those mistakes have involved his growing career as Hawkmoth—and, more specifically, the choices he makes for whom he akumatizes.

Lila Rossi, now known as Princess Perfect—seriously, what the hell was wrong with this girl? He’d given her the liberty of choosing her akuma name, but such a godawful name is a bad reflection on him as well—kicks down the door of the classroom.

He sees it all through Lila’s eyes, like he does with all the akumas. Doesn’t mean he’s particularly happy about the turnout of this particular akumatization.

“What are you doing?” Gabriel demands to her. “I want Ladybug and Chat Noir’s Miraculous! You’re going the wrong way.”

Relax. Lila’s voice drifts into his head. I need to take a little detour.

“What detour—” Oh. Oh, shit.

In the classroom, packing their bags, is his son and that Chinese girl with pigtails—Marinette. The one that Gabriel knows Lila Rossi intensely hates. The one that he doesn’t like either, because for some reason, his son is infatuated with her. It’s Marinette-this, Marinette-that these days, and Adrien just won’t stop gushing about her. Father, look at these designs! They’re Marinette’s. Father, look who’s on the news—it’s Marinette! Father, can you hire Marinette to work at Gabriel Brand?

Marinette, a real headache. Gabriel rubs his temples. Maybe it’s a good thing that Lila’s after her. Better to nip it in the bud before Adrien’s attachment becomes a real problem.

“Fine,” he grounds out to Lila. “But leave Ad—leave the blonde boy alone.”

Already ahead of you, Hawkie.

“Don’t call me that!”

She ignores him in favour of turning to the two victims. Adrien is standing in front of Marinette, arms spread in a protective stance, glaring at the akuma. For a couple moments, nobody speaks.

Then, Marinette, eyebrows furrowing, says, “You’re Lila, aren’t you. Seriously? What is this—your third akumatization? Fourth?”

“My name is Princess Perfect now,” Lila growls back. “Get out of my way, Adrien.”

Marinette literally gags. “Did Hawkmoth choose that name for you?”

“No, I didn’t,” Gabriel seethes. Unfortunately, none of them can hear him.

“Yes, he did,” Lila lies breezily. “But that’s not important. You think you’re such a hot shot, Marinette? You think you can take the spotlight from me without repercussions? I’m going to make sure everyone hates you and loves me, and you’ll learn your lesson for trying to cross me. After all, who can say no to Princess Perfect?”

Gabriel sighs through his nose. Are all teens this dramatic?

Apparently, they are. Betrayal comes from those closest to home, because it’s Adrien that holds up his arms even higher, still staring Lila down. “You’re going to have to go through me if you want to hurt her,” he promises. “Marinette, get out of here! Run!”

Oh, for heaven’s sake—

Two things happen at once. Lila darts towards them, her whip lashing out directly at Adrien. Gabriel swears under his breath—why isn’t Adrien moving out of the way? Why is he so intent on protecting that useless girl? “Lila!” he barks through the bond, but the akumatized girl is too far gone. “Touch him and I’ll make sure—”

Gabriel trails into dumbfounded silence when Marinette shoves Adrien aside, grabs the end of Lila’s whip, and tugs the weapon straight out of the girl’s hands.

“You’ve gone too far,” she growls in a tone so chilly that it even reaches him. “Adrien, get out of here! I can handle her.”

Lila’s own shock lasts for a couple of times before she regains some of her composure. “You?” she sneers. “Handle me? Why, you pathetic—”

Adrien chucks a pencil case at Lila. It hits her cheek, and she whirls on him, enraged. At the same time, Marinette darts away from the window and slides behind the large wooden desk at the front. Gabriel, still watching the scene unfold, scoffs. So for all her big talk, she’s still nothing but a coward.

“Stand down,” he commands Lila once more. “Don’t you dare touch Adrien—what the hell?”

Lila seems to have noticed the source of his bewilderment as well, but it’s far too late. From underneath the desk, Marinette has lifted the thing—the giant, wooden desk—onto her shoulders.

Gabriel’s positive he stops breathing.

“Wait—” Lila begins. He sees it all through her eyes: Marinette braces herself for a moment and then throws it—throws the desk that a grown man shouldn’t be able to lift—right at Lila.

She doesn’t stand a chance. Lila goes down in a crash, pinned under the weight of Ms. Bustier’s desk that this small, petite girl had somehow bench-pressed and then chucked.

As much as Lila struggles, she is unable to remove the desk from on top of her. Given that his akumas have enhanced strength and she’s still incapable of lifting it, just how strong is Marinette?

Said girl in question stalks over to Lila. She plants a foot firmly against the overturned side of the desk and looks down at the girl trapped underneath.

Gabriel is certain that somehow, impossible as it sounds, Marinette is staring right through Lila’s eyes, through their connection, and into his own. His body freezes. His jaw locks. And for the first time in a very, very long time, Gabriel Agreste is absolutely terrified.

“Next time you try something like this,” Marinette growls, leaning in, “I won’t let you off so easily.”

With that ominous note, she snatches the necklace off Lila’s neck and marches right out of the classroom.

Gabriel remains frozen for a couple more moments. He isn’t certain if he still remembers how to breathe.

It wasn’t Ladybug nor Chat Noir that had foiled this plan. No, it was Adrien Agreste’s classmate, a girl who had previously annoyed him, that had single handedly defeated an akuma and scared him absolutely shitless.

What. The. Fuck.

***

“Adrien,” Gabriel says over dinner. “You know that girl you always talk about? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

His son looks up from his meal with a bright look on his face. Once upon a time, Gabriel would’ve been annoyed. Now, after reevaluating the girl, he comes to the conclusion that it’s best Adrien stays on Marinette’s good side. She’s probably more than capable of beating his son up.

“Yeah, Marinette?” Adrien echoes. “You know how there was an akuma attack today? Well, Marinette was actually there in the classroom with me when the akuma came for us.”

Gabriel is forced to play ignorant. “Oh? What happened?”

“Well, the akuma tried to attack us, and Marinette picked up a desk—you might find it hard to believe, and honestly I would’ve too if I hadn’t seen her do it—and threw it at the akuma. When Ladybug and Chat Noir finally showed up, there wasn’t even anything for them to do.”

Gabriel shifts in his seat. “That is… rather unbelievable."

Except he swears he can still feel the heat of Marinette’s glare, and is forced to accept that this is the reality he’s living in.

“Why did you ask about her, though, father?”

He snaps back into the present. “Huh?”

“Marinette—why did you ask about her? Wait, father, are you reconsidering hiring her? Did you finally look at the designs I sent you? This is amazing. I’m sure she’ll do amazing. Your stocks will rise. You’ll get more customers. Marinette’s basically a walking lucky charm—this will be the best decision you’ve ever made, father. I promise.”

He frowns at Adrien. “Don’t make preposterous suggestions. But yes— I am considering giving Marinette Dupain-Cheng a job at the company, perhaps an internship one of the senior designers. She’s very… talented.”

He thinks of the way she’d lifted the desk and flung it at Lila. Talented, indeed.

Perhaps talented enough to finally give him an edge against Ladybug and Chat Noir.

***

Marinette Dupain-Cheng is more than eager to come in for a so-called interview. Nathalie has done her digging on the girl: she’s made it pretty big quite a couple times already, in the fashion industry and has quite a few connections. Even if Gabriel’s motivations aren’t technically for the company, he has to admit that she has much future potential to tap into in the future. But for now, that’s not his goal.

She’s impeccably dressed when Nathalie leads her inside his study. Her eyes are positively shining when she beams at Gabriel. “Mr. Agreste!” Marinette chirps. “I’m so happy to be here. When Adrien told me you wanted to interview me for the job…this is such an amazing opportunity to be presented with, and I am so honoured.”

Gabriel exchanges a glance with Nathalie. She nods subtly.

“It’s my pleasure to meet you, Ms. Dupain-Cheng.” He rises from his desk and holds out his hand for her to shake. She does so.

It takes all of Gabriel’s self-control not to show the pain on his face when she grips his hand.

How the fuck is this girl so strong?

Thankfully, Marinette doesn’t seem to notice anything wrong. Gabriel draws back his hand and tucks it behind his back. It’s throbbing.

“So, Marinette.” He sits back down at his desk. Marinette is practically bouncing on the balls of her feet. If she were any normal person, Gabriel might’ve snapped at her to settle down, but after that show with Lila yesterday, he decides that it’s for his own good not to get on her bad side. He’ll just have to channel all his patience—for self-preservation, really. “I understand that you’re interested in interning at my company?”

She nods excitedly. “I’ve been designing for years, Mr. Agreste—I’m aware that I have a lot to improve on—”

“What I have in mind for you—” Gabriel pauses, realizing that he’d interrupted her. Hurriedly, he gulps. “Never mind. Continue.”

“I’m aware that I have a lot to improve on but I’m a very quick learner! I promise I’ll do my very best to help you and your company.”

He nods. “That’s good to hear. For now, I’ll… I’ll arrange with Nathalie what we can assign you to do in the company. And I have another favour to ask of you, if it’s not too much.”

Marinette smiles. “Whatever it is, I’ll do my best to help you!”

Nathalie had warned him to be careful with Marinette—one wrong move and he could be ousted as Hawkmoth. He takes a deep breath. “I have become aware that there are some bad influences around my son in school. You are friends with Adrien, yes?”

“Yes, and… bad influences?” Marinette frowns, shifting her weight. “Oh, yeah, there’s one in particular. Actually, I’m not sure if you’re aware, Mr. Agreste, but I’m glad you brought it up. You know that akuma yesterday? That girl’s name was Lila Rossi. She’s been hanging around Adrien quite a bit these days, and ‘bad influence’ barely covers what she does. And—oh! When I confronted her once about making Adrien uncomfortable, she told me she had a ‘friend in a high place’ that was backing her up. I think you might want to look into that too, Mr. Agreste. It was pretty worrisome, to be honest.”

Gabriel’s mouth has gone dry. “I… yes. Yes, I shall look into that too.”

Marinette rolls her shoulders. “God, if I knew who they were, I’d throw them into the Seine. How dare they.” Then her eyes widen. “Sorry, Mr. Agreste! I was just… um, I was just talking to myself. I’m so sorry.”

“It’s perfectly alright,” Gabriel reassures immediately, although it doesn’t do much to ease the chill that is travelling up his spine. “Then it’s decided? Nathalie will give you her contact information—you can send her your resume just for formalities, and she will organize the rest. And… be sure to keep an eye on my son at school.”

“I will!” Marinette chirps, ever so chipper. Behind that attitude lies the strength to lift the desk he’s currently sitting and crush him. And much, much more.

Nathalie guides the girl away. Gabriel is unable to breathe fully until she leaves.

He has to calculate this well, because he can’t afford to lose a potential ally like Marinette Dupain-Cheng. He’s already thinking—perhaps she would do well with the Peacock Miraculous, or the Bee Miraculous, if he can get his hands on it again. If—if he can somehow convince Marinette to help him with his cause, all of his other plans don’t even need to go into action. Ladybug and Chat Noir will never see this coming.

Nathalie returns. “Sir, your face is rather pale,” she notes. “But may I ask what that was about? You were… unusually lenient today.”

Gabriel clears his throat and straightens in his seat. “Never mind me,” he dismisses. “But first, I need to contact Lila Rossi as soon as possible to cut off all ties. Let her know she’s fired.”

“Is this because…?”

He allows himself a small smile. “You’ll see soon, Nathalie,” he reassures. “We’ve finally got the upperhand in this fight.”

Notes: i lost brain cells writing it, and i’m sure y’all have lost brain cells reading it. 

Fics masterlist here! 

[prfctethereal]

just another horror movie. | james potter

pairing: james potter x reader

chapter: one 

warnings: NSFW, smut, oral (male receiving), exhibitionism, talk of dead bodies, actual dead body, blood, vomiting

word count: 3.7k

read the prologue here or on ao3 here

summary: you and james take a quick detour through the woods, to have a bit of morning fun, but find something gruesome.

Three weeks earlier…

The quiet town of Hogwarts had never been quieter. It was typical though; towns that resided in the countryside of Scotland were often described as “quiet”, unbeknownst to most that it was anything but. Except, Hogwarts lived up to the stereotype. Peaceful, tame, quiet.

Quiet.

God, you needed some quiet.

Exam season was narrowing in, which meant endless nights of caffeine and random studying music that you found on spotify, its main purpose to help you concentrate. It was unfortunate, with the school year coming to a close, but you were determined to leave the year proud and satisfied with your work. Everything was going perfectly so far. Nothing could screw it up.

This is what you told yourself as you began your walk to school this morning. Leaving your house at seven in the morning on the dot had become the regular for you. Now that Summer was finally coming in, the walks were warm, without chilling breezes. You could feel comfortable with the wind in your hair and a light shirt on your back.

Something felt tranquil about this morning in particular. You didn’t feel held up or anxious. You didn’t even feel stressed as you busily organised your school bag this morning. You didn’t even blink an eye when you dropped your chemistry textbook on your foot. You were in a good mood. You were glowing.

Maybe it was because you had been getting some amazing sex from your amazing boyfriend lately.

Maybe.

But today wasn’t for what ifs. Today, you had one thing on your mind. A conversation needed to be had between you and your guidance counsellor, as the prospects of colleges were starting to roll around. Applications were beginning to close and your aspirations for life after high school were beginning to get clearer and clearer. You no longer wanted to be tied down in a small town, where the most important job you could get was at the Mayor’s office, sitting at a desk, listening to the complaints of highly egotistical citizens.

Wasn’t for you.

Your mind drifted off to your could-be life, and before you knew it, your legs had walked to your boyfriend’s house without you even realising. It was something unconscious and natural, something you were completely used to. The sight of the grand, three-story mansion that your lover lived in brought unprecedented comfort.

The spiralling pillars covered in the greenest of vines was something from a fairytale. A pale cerulean was painted across the panelling, giving a dream-like feel. Right above the front door housed a giant window, one that opened up into James’ bedroom.

Right. James.

Walking up the path, you felt comforted by the familiar sound of gravel beneath your feet. It reminded you of all the nights you had snuck up this very path to climb into James’ bedroom via the window. Nostalgic really.

Now you were here in broad daylight, ready to walk hand in hand with your boyfriend to school. Knocking on the front door, you were excited to see a nearly immediate opening of the door, with a very joyous boy standing there. His signature dopey smile glistened even brighter, as his eyes lingered over your clothed body a little longer than expected. His tongue shot out very quickly over the pink cushions of his lips, something you could’ve missed in a blink of an eye, but you didn’t. Laughing, he pushed his glasses up the nose of his bridge, before running his fingers through his unruly hair.

“Should we go then?” It sounded as though it was the first time James had spoken this morning, a fact that you didn’t mind, as your brain thought unholy things when listening to his gravely morning voice.

“Soon.” You mumbled, your voice trailing off slightly, as you stepped towards James, swinging your arms around the back of his neck. Taking a breath of his scent, you leaned forward, placing a delicate kiss upon his lips. They were slightly chapped, but you didn’t care.

It may have been a Summer day, but that wasn’t the only reason you were feeling hot.

Stopping yourself before you went too far, you pulled backwards, not before suggestively running your hands down James’ chest, smirking against his lips. “Come on, let's go.” You remarked playfully, smacking your hand lightly against James’ firm butt, which elicited a short laugh from the bubbly man.

So, hand in hand, you and James darted down his footpath, back into the street. Even more birds had woken up by now, with a choir of chirping serenading your descent into the bustling streets of Hogwarts.

Everything now seemed a little more public than you initially thought. Neighbours were waking up and going to work now too, giving no shorter than five second glances at you and James’ hand intertwined. You know what they would say; old people gossiped too much for your liking. It made you especially nervous, knowing that your parents didn’t know about your illicit relationship. Maybe it should stay that way. Well, before any neighbours get a little too gossipy in the weekly book club meetings.

“Are you listening to me?” James asked, snapping you out of your thoughtful haze. Blinking twice, you returned your attention to James, who’s eyes were laced with concern as he looked you over once again, eyebrows furrowed. “You seem out of it.”

“Oh, sorry.” Your voice came out almost silently as you looked away, flushed and embarrassed. “What were you talking about?”

“How I was going to fuck you so hard later today that you are going to struggle to walk.” James followed his statement with a dash of laughter, something that you mimicked like a pirate’s parrot.

“Well, I hope that’s not a joke, my dear.” You flashed a sly smile, looking James up and down. You both stopped walking, with James now admiring the way you were biting your lip, as if you were a siren trying to entrap him. Surely, you guys wouldn’t quickly dash away into the bush and go for a quickie right now, right?

James thought about it too, eyeing up someone’s poor hydrangea bush. Unfortunately, there would be too many witnesses, and exhibitionism wasn’t something you had both openly discussed before, although it wasn’t completely off the table.

“Lunch period.” James finally said, stopping his momentary halt, and marching forward.

“Lunch period?”

James leaned over, pressing his lips so close to your ear. His hot breath sent shivers down your spine, ones that ended in your core. “Meet me in the hallway between the chemistry and physics lab. I think there’s a new cupboard we could Christen.”

Giggling in excitement, you rubbed your fingers up the length of James’ arm, tugging him down the footpath, continuing your conversation about whatever. You learnt that he had a History test today, all about women earning the right to vote. You sighed as you listened to him talk about what he was passionate about, his stressed vowel sounds turning you on more than you would’ve thought.

Then came a predicament. An actual, real life crossroad. Right in front of you was where the footpath curved to the left, following along the road onto the main road through town. It was the way you went every day, with the road taking you directly to school when you walked along it, arriving perfectly at seven twenty-five every day. It was ideal.

This morning, though, you were feeling cheeky. From this footpath curve was another opportunity. The footpath also opened into a dirt path, something that twisted into the woods, or, as the conspiracy theorists of the town called it, the Forbidden Forest. It was hardly forbidden though; they literally took Scouts classes there, and those have kids as young as seven in them.

Feeling devilish, you paused James for a moment, the cogs turning over in your brain. You might arrive at school a little later than you first thought, but at least you would have some distance between the prying eyes of the Hogwarts neighbourhood. And maybe, you could have a little bit of fun too.

“James,” you smirked, tugging at the edge of his shirt, capturing his attention, something that wasn’t actually that hard to do, “shall we go for a detour this morning?”

Your eyes flashed over the forest and onto the quiet stillness of it. You could feel James’ heart rate speed up, but it wasn’t because he was scared. He was just as excited as you. It was like a switch had flicked on in his brain, although he was still hesitant, his feet still planted firmly on the ground.

“Are you sure?” James questioned. “How late is this going to make us?”

“Not that late at all.” You justified, mocking offence. “Oh, we should get there at maybe, quarter to eight? And besides, it’s fresh air, it’ll be good for us, and our lungs. Think of it as reversing the side effects of being around Sirius and Remus when they smoke all the time. Your lungs will thank us.”

“I’m not sure that’s how it works.” James laughed.

“How would you be so sure?”

“I’m the one that takes biology out of the two of us.”

You had to try another tactic, so, you jutted your bottom lip out of your mouth, putting on your best doe eyes, hoping you could flutter your eyelashes enough for him to give into temptation. “Please?”

A sigh escaped James lips as he seemed to give in. His reluctant look of worry was quickly replaced by an eager spark. Knitting his fingers in with yours, you two walked hand and hand together down the dirt path. The change of feeling beneath your feet was almost instantly recognisable, the normal, smooth, concrete path replaced by the rough dirt, and slight mud, even though it hadn't rained in days.

As you continued to wander down the path, you were suddenly covered in a canopy of shade, as the trees of the forest soon covered your heads. The route got a tad darker, the path no longer illuminated with the light of the sun, not that you minded though. You could still easily see where you were going.

You felt a little colder without the extra heat from the sun. You didn’t like the way goosebumps rose on your skin or the way you had to rub your hands along your arm to keep yourself warm. You felt out of control, a feeling of which you loathed. You didn’t want your perfect morning to be ruined by a little chill.

When you reached a tall, winding tree, you stopped James from his walk, pulling him off the path. Luckily, you had spotted a small dip in the earth, perfect to stay in, somewhere where regular bystanders wouldn’t find you. Happy with your discovery, you looked back at James, who had a puzzled look across his face.

“What’s going on?”

“Can I kiss you?” You asked breathlessly, your hands already getting fidgety. You wanted to be connected with James again, intertwined if you will. You needed to feel his skin, even if it was barely quarter past seven in the morning.

“Yes, love.” James breathed out, his voice quiet and shallow. WIth the consent, you leaned upwards, connecting your lips at last. It felt right to be pressed up against each other once again, even if it had been only yesterday when you had last felt such passion.

You deepened the kiss, feeling urgent to make the most of the short time you had together. Your mouths melded together almost perfectly, your lips pushing against each other like a playful pillow fight, one which you were determined to win.

Feeling mischievous, you reached to James’ hair, tugging lightly on his roots, an action you knew he liked. This action got the response you wanted from him, a needy moan, in which you took the opportunity to slip your tongue into his mouth, battling it out with his own, regaining confidence and dominance.

You pulled away, your cheeks flushed from the lack of oxygen. James looked disheveled but pleased, wanting to continue your little make out session, but unfortunately, you had limited time.

“Can I suck you off?” You whispered against his mouth innocently, looking up at his hazel eyes, brushing his hair off of his forehead. You could hear him gulp with nervousness, before nodding quickly, his hands making their way to his slacks.

You knew James was slipping into a mindset clouded by arousal, so you sank to your knees slowly in front of him, still looking up at him through your long lashes. On your journey downwards, you carefully unzipped the zipper on his pants, pulling them down to ankles, until he was clad in only his boxers.

Lifting yourself up slightly onto the balls of your feet, you kissed him lightly on the outside of his boxers, feathering gentle kisses. You knew you were being a tease, but you needed him nice and hard. As you felt his bulge setting like cement under your lips, you lifted your hands up, joining your lips so you could palm him, stroking the material.

When James started moaning, - “oh please, stop teasing, I beg you,” - you released him from the cage of his underwear, dragging the clothing down the apex of his things, watching the muscles twitch in excitement. There, James’ half hard cock laid against his thighs, the tip a gentle rouge colour.

Your fingers grazed over his prick, lightly tracing a prominent vein of the underside of the sex muscle. James groaned in pleasure, the teasing getting too much for him to handle. Feeling benevolent, you dribbled saliva over the tip of the cock, before wrapping your entire hand around it. You started stroking harder and faster, making sure James could feel all of you in a way you hand. He was starting to fall apart above you, but it wasn;t enough.

“So- so good.” James murmured, his eyes gently shutting as he became lost in the feeling. “Don’t stop, please don’t stop. I love your hands, so perfect, so precise. Perfect for me, precise for me.”

“It was like you were made for me.” You agreed with the raven haired boy, before bringing your lips down to the tip of his penis. This action shocked James, but the whimper out of his mouth made you know he was enjoying it. Living from the excitement of the exhibisionist route, you swiveled your tongue across the tip, reaching down the length of the cock, savouring his taste.

“Right there.” James moane, as you brung the rest of your mouth down over his now fully hard cock, reveling in the flavour of the salty precum that was leaking from his angry tip. With a smooth rhythm, you bobbed your head up and down on James’ cock, the sound of his moans itching you on.

You knew you were running out of time, and you still wanted him to cum, so you sped up your movements on James’ cock, stroking the base of his cock, which could not fit in your mouth. Adding to the pleasure, you let your hands move downwards a bit more, so they played gently with James’ hanging balls.

This applied pressure was becoming too much for James, as his breath became laboured and a tingling feeling was nearly bursting at his cock. “I’m gonna cum, please, I’m going to do it.”

You lifted your mouth off of James’ cock, just to murmur, “let go.” James, with your permission, spurted his cum across your hands. Eager to savour him, you opened your mouth, catching as much of the milking substance as possible, not wanting to waste any of it. Jacking James off through the entire thing, you watched as his orgasm crashed over him entirely, the way his face contorted in pleasure almost being the most beautiful portrait to you.

Licking the rest of his cum off of your fingers, you stood up, wiping your knees off, as the dirt sticking to you was becoming slightly uncomfortable. While you stood up, you reached from the top of James’ pants, pulling them upwards as you went.

“Thanks.” James almost laughed, except he still sounded out of breath, which was very reasonable though. You did just suck the life out of him. His fingers worked quickly, rearranging his pants, and cock, so that you both could continue on your way to school.

As you waited for James to finish cleaning himself up, your nose turned upwards. There was a strange smell coming from the area, one you didn’t notice before when you were on your knees in front of James. It was a smell that you were relatively unfamiliar with, but all you knew was that it stank like rotten meat.

“Can you smell that?” You asked James, looking off into the little ditch you were beside. Wherever you were, it seemed that it had been recently disturbed. Broken twigs snapped into pieces laid amongst crunched up leaves. If you squinted, you were sure you could even make out that faintest of footprints on the ground. It was odd, but nothing you haven't seen before in the woods. The smell on the other hand…

“Smells like thrown out vegetables.” James readjusted his glasses before holding out his hand, inviting you to close your fingers in with his. “I bet some old granny thought it would be a good idea to throw out their compost in the woods. If the council found out, they would have a fit. You know all about their weirdly tight rules on littering? It’s not even bad for the environment.”

You had stopped listening a while ago. Something didn’t feel right, but it was nothing you could sort out now. You weren’t satisfied but you turned back towards James anyway, knowing that you needed to head off to school or you would be running a little bit behind schedule. As you turned around, you noticed James’ face morph from a cheeky grin to a concerned frown.

“What is it?” You pondered, stepping towards James, matching his pear-shaped frown with one of your own.

“Did you cut yourself when you were on your knees?”

“Huh?”

“Look.” James bent down to look at your knees and you turned your head down too. What you thought had just been a bit of dirt must’ve been something else. Your knees were covered in a browny-red, maybe a maroon colour. It looked as though your entire knee had been cut open, as blood was still dripping from your skin, but that couldn’t be right. You felt no pain on your knee. You hadn’t cut yourself.

Swiping your fingers across your knee, you gathered some of the drying blood on your fingers. This was the first time you had looked at your hands since you wiped off your knees before and you saw that you had smudged blood stains all across your palm. You nearly barfed on the spot. You felt incredibly uneasy, like a stormy ocean filled your stomach.

You lifted your fingers up to your nose, a theory hypothesising into your head, and you were right. The smell of the blood matched the rotten meat smell you could smell before. As if you were a dog, the odor latched onto your nose and expanded, its putrid smell being the only thing in your senses.

“I'm going to be sick.” You doubled over a rock. Resting your hand against a boulder, you hovered downwards over a patch of leaves, letting your breakfast out. Your head was reeling as you could still smell the retching odor of the old blood. You couldn’t get it out of your mind, so you leaned over again, round two of the hurling intervention.

James rushed over to you, placing his warm hands on your back, rubbing soothing circles. He wished he could say that his main focus was to make you feel better, but it wasn’t. Over in the deepest part of the dish, he noticed something strange. It was almost like a small lump in the ground, something unnatural. It seemed to be covered very messily by old leaves and sticks, and an entire tree branch, as if it would make it any less inconspicuous. It even had that opposite of the desired effect, seemingly sticking out like a sore thumb.

“Darling,” James waited until you lifted your head back up, regaining your breath once again, “what do you think that is?”

James’ hand pointed into the direction of the ditch, in which you followed his eyesight and body movements. You could see it too; just a lump in the ground. Your mind was racing of what it could be. A dead animal? A pile of rotten food? Maybe a…

“Holy shit!” You had only just realised that James had already walked over there, except his body was covering your eye line, and you couldn’t actually see what James had found. Although, he told you immediately. “Quick, call the police. It’s a body.”

A dead body in Hogwarts? Making sure you didn’t lose any more of your stomach through puking, you rushed onto the path in the woods, grabbing your phone out of your pocket, hoping you could get service all the way out here in the woods. Fumbling to turn your phone on, you nearly groaned out in annoyance when you saw that you were getting no bars of service.

Running back to James, you couldn’t stop at the moment. You called out to him, your words a blurred mess, trying to convey to him that you were going to find someone to help. Unsure if he had even heard you, you ran back down the path, your feet carrying you to where you needed to go, unable to bring yourself to a cohesive thought.

When you exited the forest, you flicked your head around, trying to find someone, anyone, that could help in the moment. The first person you saw was your calculus teacher, Mr Slughorn, to which you promptly called out to.

“Mr Slughorn!” You cupped your hands around your mouth to project your words across louder. Mr Slughorn snapped his head around and gave a friendly wave. Annoyed, you shook your head. “Call the police!”

“What?” He called back, walking towards you now. You groaned, trying again.

“There's a dead body in the forest. Call the police!”

***

lmao. anyway this has become a series whoops.