#not kidding this has been the bane of my life for like two months now

[kpoptrashlord-007]

Sir;; CYJ

Word Count;; 2.7k

Genre;; Smut, E2Ls

Pairing;; Yeonjun x Fem!Reader

Summary;;

You’re at your wits end when it comes to your boss’s spoiled son. Beyond the point of formalities and long past niceties, it’s high time the tension between the two of you finds some form of release.

Request;;

@light164star asked: hard!dom yeonjun is very much welcome…

Warnings;;

Smut, Enemies to Enemies That Fuck, Reader is a higher-up in the company but Yeonjun is the CEO's son, exhibitionism but lowkey, office sex, kinda hate sex? kinda rough, brat taming?, Reader thinks she's a dom but…, Dom!Yeonjun, biting and clawing, ass slapping, pussy slapping, face slapping (jk), vaginal fingering, mild humiliation, orgasm denial. There are no safe words or the likes – it’s fiction lol.

Notes;;

Writing Yeonjun brings out the worst in me :) yet somehow I still wasn’t able to summon forth a really hard dom. I just don’t have it in me I guess. Coming back to edit this several months later and I gotta say, I love this Reader!

Main Masterlist

“I bet you like that.”

Gaze darting to Yeonjun and his overconfident smirk, your lips press into a firm line. He’s made a habit of getting on your nerves as of late, knowing full well you can't retaliate without repercussions. His status affords him unwarranted respect, allowing him to run rampant in your life. Day in and day out, he's a menace. It takes all your willpower not to give him a piece of your mind right here and now but instead you fix your posture. Sitting a little taller, you clear your throat. Everyone’s eyes are on you. You can’t let him get under your skin. 

“As I was saying, they’re slamming us with these accusations. Our reputation can’t handle it. Any suggestions?”

Silence. 

“Not a single idea? I didn’t realise we were paying you to be slack-jawed buffoons,” you seethe, slamming your presentation binder shut. 

“W-well, maybe we could release a different scandal as a distraction?”

You roll your eyes. “Anyone else?”

"Why not throw some money at them until they shut up?"

“Or run a smear campaign on them."

"Boooring," Yeonjun sighs, spinning in his chair. "Might as well tell my father to declare bankruptcy at this rate."

"Well, please enlighten us since you're obviously teeming with ideas."

"Sure, but you're not going to like it."

"What a surprise." You tap your pen against the table. "Spit it out."

"For years now their CEO has been eye-fucking you. I say we wrap you in a little bow and–"

“Why are you even here?” Scathing hot words match the intense heat spreading across your nape like wildfire. “Can't you laze about somewhere else? This is a meeting for professionals, not kids playing adult.”

If a pin dropped, you'd hear it. No one dares breathe. There's a tumultuous air between you and Yeonjun, and your subordinates are stuck in the middle. Examining the presentation notes with newfound interest, not a single one of them has the balls to meet your eyes. 

Aside from Yeonjun, of course. He can't seem to look away. His lips curl up into a devilish smile as he leans forward, the table squeaking as he rests his elbows upon it. With a quirk of the brow, he tilts his head and chuckles. A part of you relishes in his reaction, eager to push his buttons at any given opportunity.

"Everyone, out. I expect a full report as well as viable solutions before the day's end," you say, the finality in your tone biting. 

The room can't empty fast enough. Papers jostle and sing as they're shoved into briefcases. Chairs groan in relief with every new departure. Within seconds you're alone with your boss's son, the bane of your existence. You wait with an impatient frown for him to follow the crowd. 

His dark eyes bore into you. Like a beast on the prowl, he doesn't let you out of his sight as he closes the door. A gentle breeze squeezes through before metal seals against metal. It's much colder without the extra bodies inside. You shudder. 

"Do you need something, Yeonjun?" 

"Isn't that"—the door locks with a loud clack—"Mr. Choi to you?" 

"I don't respect positions given through nepotism."

Even louder than the lock is the thud of his shoes as he approaches you. Shoving a chair out of his way, he navigates the mess left behind from the meeting with ease. Paper crumples underfoot but he doesn't pause. There's a storm brewing; it flashes through the cracks of his smooth exterior. 

Once he stands between you and the desk, going so far as pushing your chair back with his heel, he pulls out his phone. The glass walls tint. While you can look out, the rest of the workplace can no longer see in. Just swell. You huff, crossing your arms while you wait for him to rant and whine then finally leave. 

"Shouldn't you call me… sir?"

"Shouldn't you, I don't know, earn that right?" 

He scoffs. "I do plenty around here."

"Plenty of nothing is still nothing. Unless you have something important to say, make yourself scarce. Some of us actually have to work."

It strikes a nerve and God does it feel good. His nostrils flare as he nods, forcing a smile onto his much too pretty face. You return it, though you imagine it is more akin to a smirk. Which would explain why the veins in his neck are bulging. Indulging in the moment, you watch his Adam's apple bob up and down in an angry little dance. 

"I'm not leaving until you call me 'Sir'."

Pulled from your entertaining reverie, you’re face-to-face with his overwhelming audacity. 

"Then I'll leave," you snap, his persistence eating away at your patience. The back of your chair slams against the wall. Standing much too quickly, you break into his space with a well-placed leg lodged between his spread thighs, "because I'll never call you 'sir'."

His legs close around you. Unable to flee, you’re stuck within his intoxicating close proximity. The ticking of the clock subsides and all that remains is the thrum of your racing heart. You gulp down your anxiety before straightening your shoulders in an act of composure. His hands trace up the length of your arms, leaving electricity in their wake. When his tongue peeks out from between gleaming teeth, your resolve weakens. 

Yeonjun is going to be the death of you. 

"That sounds like a challenge," he coos. Trapping your jaw in a tight grip, his fingers burn hotter than the flood of warmth rolling through your system. His lips brush against yours as he leans forward. The delectable scent of his cologne clouds your senses. It's dizzying. "Should we bet on it?"

It would be easy to push him away, perhaps even slap him (once for his arrogance then again for good measure), and yet… 

"If I win you have to be a good little boy and” —his eyes narrow— "do your job from now on."

"And when I win you will call me Sir in <i>and</i> out of the bedroom."

Scoffing, your tone drips with incredulity, "When you win–"

The words are smothered by the press of his lips against yours. Your mind races as he unzips your skirt but when it drops past your thighs he abandons it, focusing his attention elsewhere and leaving you to wrestle the tight fabric the rest of the way. His fingers entangle in your hair as you shimmy your legs and kick the skirt onto the floor. Nails scrape along your scalp, a biting sting left behind as he yanks your head back. You whimper from the roughness of his touch, ravenous and angry, and he takes the opportunity to deepen the kiss. His tongue tastes like apple as it toys with yours. 

Eyes squeezed shut, the first smack comes out of nowhere. Tantalising pain blossoms across your arse. The second earns a soft yelp. He swallows the sound. You were unaware of how tight his hold on your hair was until it’s gone, leaving a lingering ache in its place. Tracing the curve of your cheek, he wipes away the tears before they spill. It’s tender, much more gentle than you thought him capable of, but it doesn’t last. Another strike against your raw flesh leaves you trembling. Clinging to his shirt, your hands ball up in fists as he massages your skin.

You break the kiss to glare at him. A coy smirk twists his lips and desire blazes in his eyes. He possesses an intensity you’ve never known. It’s all-consuming. Unable to hold his stare, you look toward the door. Still locked. Biting your bottom lip, you watch as members of your team walk past, oblivious to the sin taking place just beyond the darkened glass. 

Yet you can’t shake the thought of being caught, 

can’t escape how it ignites a fire in your core, 

can’t stop your cunt from clenching in anticipation. 

“Anything you want to say?” 

“Yes, actually,” you say with a chuckle, ignoring logic in pursuit of pleasure. Overheated, your mind is an incoherent jumble. You know you should end this before it devolves into something you can’t stop but there’s a carnal urge within you. Desperate to be stung, you kick the hornet’s nest. “You’re as inadequate as a lover as you are an employee.”

Tilting your chin back toward him, he groans when you refuse to look him in the eye. “God, I’m going to ruin you.”

“I’d like to see you try.”

There’s no real bite behind your words. They’re hollow just like your promise to remain professional around your boss’s fucking son. How much of a horny idiot does one have to be to get involved with Yeonjun of all people? A fresh wave of embarrassment explodes throughout your body. This is career suicide, so why are you guiding his hand under your skirt while your tongue grazes his jaw?

“I knew you were a freak,” he purrs into your ear, the baritone of his voice eliciting a shudder. 

“Luckily for me, so are you.”

With little grace he flips you around and pushes you down on the table. It shakes and creaks as he follows close behind, lowering himself until your bodies meet. Lifting your leg onto his back, his hips thrust against yours. The friction is electrifying. Though the sensation is minimal, it is just enough to leave you wanting.  

Animalistic, you claw at his shirt. Buttons fly free before hitting the table with sharp taps. His shirt opens to reveal a toned chest. His expression morphs into that of a smirk, confidence oozing from his sparkling eyes. It’s enough to halt your admiration – you don’t intend to boost his overinflated ego. With a glower you run your nails down his torso. Red streaks decorate his skin. 

“At this rate you'll be calling me ‘sir’,” you sigh, feigning disinterest. It’s all in vain as your body follows in tandem to the slow grind of his hips. 

“What a wild imagination you have.”

Gripping both of your wrists within one large hand, he pins your arms above your head. He doesn’t hold back. His lips latch onto your neck and he sucks on the skin until you whine. Tantalising and deliberate, he grinds against your cunt one last time before rising to his knees. Your body instinctively lifts, eager to bask in his warmth longer, and you have to dip your head away to hide your shame. 

“Keep your eyes on me.” 

There’s a sternness in his tone that has you faltering. Hesitantly you turn back to him for a mere second before giving up, choosing to watch how the office is carrying on without you. A mistake, you realise too late, as Yeonjun slaps your pussy. Fire blossoms in your gut. You clench around nothing, your toes curling. He slaps the sensitive area again and you squirm in his grasp, an indignant mewl passing through your parted lips. 

“Look at me.”

Your gaze snaps to him. Magnetised, you can’t look away. Once more he slaps your cunt, mouthing something about you being a bad girl. The pain is delicious – shocking and intense. It sets your nerves ablaze. Back rising off the table, you arch toward him. The contact you expect doesn’t come; instead you’re greeted with the harsh nipping of his teeth. He clamps down on your breast, biting hard to combat how your bra shields you. Never one to make things easy, you fall away from him. Your breast slides free of his mouth without much fight but the clothing is another story. 

As you drop there’s a snap. Like a small whip, one of your bra straps licks your back in an angry assault. You wince as it lashes your bare skin. After taking a moment to catch your breath and clear your mind, you allow your teary eyes to reopen. His chest heaves as he snickers around your clothing. He doesn’t let go, tugging on your shirt until it stretches. 

“Bastard!” you growl, baring your teeth. 

Spitting the fabric out, he releases your wrists and licks his lips. “Hush now. I’ll buy my little honey a new one. Would you like that?”

“You’re damn right you will!”

His nails tickle your stomach, trailing up your chest to toy with the collar of your shirt. The material constricts around you as he lifts you with one hand. All teeth and tongue, he kisses you, stealing your breath until you manage to break away. Head lolling to the side, you transfer your whole weight into his hold, ignoring how your shirt digs into your back. 

He tuts. “Where are your manners?” 

When he lets go, the table wobbles as your body slams down upon it. Pens clatter to the floor. Your pained irritation warps into a wide-eyed shock when he drags his fingers up your thigh before pushing your panties aside. Two fingers slip into your soaked cunt. Gasping loud enough to be heard by anyone outside the door, panic chokes you. When you glance out and see no one nearby, the churning within your gut slows. Your heart stammers in your chest. This isn't like you. What the hell are you doing?

Unceremoniously fast and rough, he pumps his fingers in and out of your wet pussy. Squelching reaches your ears. Red hot embarrassment has you whimpering beneath him. He smirks against your skin, breath warm against your collarbone. He massages your clit with his thumb and you can’t stop your body from reacting. Lightning quick you clamp a hand over your mouth to silence your strangled moan before you alert the whole office to his lewd actions.

“My pretty little slut is making a mess all over my fingers,” he taunts, using said fingers to scissor you open. “You’re going to drip onto the table at this rate.”

"Sh-shut up," you pant. 

"Still so rude. Shall I stop?"

When he pauses, you whine. It’s not your proudest moment but you yearn for him. Your body craves his touch, your mind desires his taunts. Clenching around his fingers, your pussy begs for him, something the rational part of your mind still refuses to do. It’s only a matter of time before you break, however. Thoughts of his cock driving deep and fast into your needy cunt squashes the remainder of your willpower.

“If you want something, use those pretty little lips and beg for it.”

You glare at him out of pride but comply nonetheless. “Please.”

“Maybe,” he hums, pumping his fingers twice before pulling out completely, “you should try harder.”

You’re empty without his touch. It’s shameful how quick you fell to him, how easily you crumbled to his whims. You could end it all here and now–tell him to get to work and walk out–but that’d be like quitting. Even losing is better than quitting, at least that’s what you tell yourself as you grab his belt buckle. Within seconds it’s on the floor. It isn’t until you’re yanking his pants down that he halts your actions. 

Always so condescending, he chides you. “Not so fast, princess. You haven’t earned it.”

Lips forming a small pout, you huff. A lazy smirk crosses his features and he coos, tapping your nose. Every inch of your being burns with indignation. You should leave, you know you should, but there’s a part of you that’s loving it. Loving how he belittles you, loving how he takes control. There’s no denying how wet you are from the mere notion of submitting. Abandoning the last of your sensibility you relent. 

“Please, sir,” you whimper, the words foreign on a tongue so used to taking charge, “I need your cock. No… no one else will do, I need you.”

He sighs, the sound mocking everything you’ve ever stood for, and cradles your face. The triumphant grin adorning his near-perfect face only serves to wound your pride further. There’s a sparkle in his eyes that spells trouble. Gloating, he leans down to your level, his mere presence warming your skin in anticipation.

“Then get on your knees and work for it.”

   – ♡ –  If you enjoyed this, please consider liking, commenting, reblogging, and/or following! Thank you!

[beigetiger]

Ok, LISTEN. I’ve been putting off talking about China in phase 2 for ages now because the words weren’t finding a good way to fit together, but I swear I can do it now.

I’ve seen a few people talking about how they didn’t like the development at the end of phase 2 that China got artificially aged up, and while I kinda agree with that, I also understand the reason why that would’ve been written in.

At the very start of the series, two things are immediately established about China. One, she’s beautiful and has a magical charm that she uses to convince people to give her what she wants. And two, she’s incredibly selfish and will throw those around her under the bus if it benefits her. And these repeated themes stick around throughout the series, it is always hammered down on us that China is magically beautiful but also incredibly manipulative and self-serving. It should also probably be noted as well that there are points in the series where China almost seems to resent her status as selfish, even if she feels that it’s an accurate label. It more reflects a sort of dislike about herself more than anything.

But another thing that gets established as the series goes on is that Valkyrie has a tendency to inspire those around her to be better, the most notable example of this being Skulduggery. But this also applies to China, as shown in places such as Mortal Coil when China allows a man to escape with one of her books because Valkyrie is watching her.

And so when China gives Cadaver the bomb that he eventually aims at a group of innocent people, China has the opportunity to stand by and let it happen, at no real cost to her. But instead, she demonstrates fifteen books worth of character development and goes to save those people, with the process taking away her youth and, by extension, the magic charm that she uses to manipulate people. Her unnatural beauty represented her selfishness, and so committing a selfless act then removed that beauty. This is also reflected in Seasons of War in a way, where Valkyrie talks about how Ghastly was born with bizarre scarring and was an incredibly sweet and loving person, while China, the most beautiful person in the world, was selfish and made Valkyrie want to throttle her on a semi-regular basis. It’s the whole “beauty on the inside versus beauty on the outside” trope.

And again, being selfless stripped that beauty away from China even as she, on the inside, became a better person for it. Valkyrie was a force of good in her life who taught her that sacrifice was worth it. Her whole arc is learning to face the consequences of her many, many mistakes and learning how to overcome her reputation to save innocent people from yet another one of her mistakes. One that she still has the power to fix.

Another thing I want to point out is that future China (the one who’s head is ripped off by Malice) also has scarring that she’s learned to love, but her scars represent something slightly different. Future China’s scars are a mark to forever remind her that she tried and failed to save Valkyrie, whereas current China’s aging is a physical representation of a selfless act.

I know that this is probably a relatively skin-deep analysis and there’s much more to talk about regarding China, but this has been bouncing around my head for a frankly ridiculous amount of time and I wanted to get it out. Phase 2 is honestly when China’s character took off for me as well. I liked her before (albeit with mixed feelings), but phase 2 is when she actually became an appealing character that I had significant emotional investment in because seeing her relationship with Valkyrie and seeing Valkyrie eventually inspire her to give up something that has defined her life for centuries hit hard.

[littlebatsimagines]

A Friend in Arkham Part 4 (Jason Todd x fem!reader)

MasterList

“I knew you were trouble Mr. Todd, I never knew you were this much trouble."

Jason let out a quiet cough of a laugh. “Ms.(L/N) you have no idea." (Y/n) smiled a bit before sighing and looking up at the ceiling. The two sat in silence the only sound being the echoing drips of water from the old pipes. “Do you think he will find you?" (Y/n) finally asked the question that had been stuck in her mindsince seeing the red and yellow suit. “He has to, he always does… I just have to hold out and keep talking"

Officer Boles never returned (Y/n) to her cell and with some fudging of paperwork and some money it was like the girl never existed. While Joker barely touched her, Harley had other plans from doing the girl’s hair to dressing her up, she learned not to mouth off to Harley after a rather severe beating with a bat.

☆ ҉ ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤Ξ◢▅◣Ξ◥▅◤ ҉ ★

Hours turned to days and days to months the two only having eachother to keep sane in the darkness of the abandoned wing of the asylum. It was 6 months in when Joker said he invited some guests, rogue after rogue came to have their shot at the captured Robin. First it was Killer Croc, then the Penguin, then Two Face, the hardest ones to watch were Bane and Zsasz, after them came Calendar Man, and finally the worst of them all Scarecrow. Scarecrow was the first one to not only torture Jason but (y/n) too. He noticed how Jason’s blue eyes would briefly flicker to her… that was the first night he ever truly pleaded for it to stop. At the end of the it (y/n) was sobbing and clinging to Jason like her life depended on it and now Joker knew he had a new way to break the Robin farther.

Foot steps echoed through the cold air. “Batman? Is that you?” Jason asked with a small bit of hope still in his voice and (Y/n) slowly picked her head up to look only for her breath to catch in her throat as dapper purple bloody shoes came into view. Joker grabbed her by her hair roughly making her let out a yelp. “Batman’s not coming to save you, Jason…either of you I’m afraid.” he mocked as he leaned down to rip the bag from Jason's head. “He’ll come.” Jason argued making Joker chuckle.

“Screw you!”

“That’s the spirit. You're a real chip off the ol’ Bat block. Not that it’ll do you any good.” Joker taunted as m gestured roughly yanking (Y/n)’s hair. “Why won't you just kill us?" she whimpered making Jason's eyes snap to her. “What? No, no, no,no. I'm not going to kill you, not yet anyway. You're my sidekicks now. Just imagine it! Us out on the streets, starting fights, picking on the weak! Hell! Jason and I could be a regular dynamic duo! Just like Bat’s and that new kid of his.” Joker said excitedly but the last part made (Y/n)’s eyes meet Jason’s. “No, he wouldn't.” Jason mumbled. “So this isn’t Batman then? Weird, the pointy ears are usually a dead giveaway!” Joker teased showing Jason a picture and (Y/n) could see all the hope fade from his eyes. “I didn't want to show you that photo, really I didn't. But, well it was the only way for you to get closure. Now I know this hurts but sometimes you gotta be cruel to be kind.” Joker said before hitting Jason with a crowbar sending him back into the darkness. (Y/n) whined as she reached for Jason making Joker let out a loud laugh. “No no dear you need to stay here, we won't be long.”

Tag List

@arkhamsrevenge @calumnobellon @harleycao

[starlightrows]

Hello and welcome back to Krax Watches. Tonight I am binge watching The Bad Batch Season 3, Episodes 10-14.

Episode 10 — Identity Crisis

• The little kids being imprisoned made me cry. Like immediately. I’m on my period okay? Leave me alone

• Why haven’t they killed Nala Se?

• I was hoping we would have more info on Emerie by now. Like is she really a clone? And if she is, is she a female clone of Jango or a clone of someone else?

• I know it’s already been established that Cad Bane is a known child abductor, I hate looking at it with my own two eyeballs every time. ITS LITERALLY A BABY

• I’m so glad Boba Fett murdered Cad Bane like 35 years later.

Episode 11 — Point of No Return

• The second she put down Lula and Tech’s nerd goggles, the ship was toast

• I hope someone kills Sid. Snitches get stitches and also fuck you

• Hunter really fell from like a hundred feet up and just swam his ass back to shore

• I hate that this season has made me go back on my hatred of Crosshair. I still think he’s a crusty dusty musty asshole. But god damn am I weak for sibling tropes, especially older brother tropes.

• You just know he is beating the ever loving shit out of himself for losing Omega to the Empire

• Mystery masked guy, that is definitely Tech, really just allowed Omega to be loose back there behind him while flying at the end there… I know this is still sort of a kids show and they would never actually do this… but Omega could totally bash him in the back of the head while he’s flying. Or garrot him or something. Maybe even yank off his helmet.

Episode 12 — Juggernaut

• Omega looking at Emerie… hello traitor

• Kinda forgot that Crosshair and Phee haven’t met yet

• Phee still refers to Tech as brown eyes, cute! But don’t all of them have brown eyes… ya know… because they’re clones

• …. What was Admiral Rampart arrested for again? I remember hating him… but I can’t remember anything else about him

• Phee is cool as fuck and I love her

• Rampart is racist… alienist… whatever, fuck that guy

• Wouldn’t it have been a wild connection if Rampart was in a work camp or work facility like the one Cassian was in?! Way harder to get him out, but would have been a cool connection

• Wooooooo! Jail break!

• Playing chicken with a tank!

• Lmao throwing Rampart like a sack of potatoes

• I kind of can’t figure out what it is they are trying to accomplish with Omega and the other high M count kiddos. Maybe I’m just dense

Episode 13 — Into the Breach

• It makes me intensely sad thinking about the fact that Omega has spent the majority of her little life in captivity

• They’re making the children take care of the literal baby

• Echo my boy! You’ve returned!

• I like how Omegas legs are almost too big to fit under the table, she’s groaning up 😫

• She’s so devious and crafty, I love Omega

• They stripped the paint off their armor. Why does that feel so foreboding???

• Rampart is cranky because he hasn’t gotten dick in months, damn shame

• Even with the paint stripped off their armor, they look wildly out of place

• Wrecker playing is playing Candy Crush, scrolling space Tumblr, swiping on galactic Hinge, reading fanfic on space AO3

• I want to cuddle that owl baby so bad

• I love bitchy little R2 units

• Crosshair saying, Relax, Echo’s on it, makes me emotional

• Literally can’t believe that fucking worked

Episode 14 — Flash Strike

• Howmst the fuck did they know that it was Clone Force 99 and Rampart? They didn’t get caught by anyone

• I feel like Wrecker hasn’t gotten to do anything or have any personality this season :/ he’s kinda just there

• This bitch with the bangs is going to be an ongoing problem. I hope the children kick her shins until she croaks or something

• Lamo what does Rampart sound like that?!

• Echo really needs to get a prosthetic hand at some point his little screwdriver nub is a dead give away

• Did they leave Batcher on Pabu? I didn’t realize she was missing until now

• Rampart have ZERO self preservation skills. There is almost nothing preventing the batch from killing him

• Inventory droids always have a stick up their ass

• Thanks for the hand! Oh my god 😂 I was right!!

• Please let the monster eat Rampart, PLEASE let the monster eat Rampart. PLEASEEEEEEE

• What the fuuuuuck? I forgot about the Zillo Beast

• I was such an anxious child. I would have been so worried about Omega I would have thrown up

• Omega’s poker face is iconic!

• Let’s go Emerie! You have exactly one opportunity to not fuck this up

The final episode next week is going to be chaotic as fuck. I have no idea what to expect. I feel like there are waaay too many loose ends to tie up. Which further leads me to believe that there’s going to be another spin off about Omega or about Rex or something.

[mrs-murder-daddy]

For the sweetest writer in town @softguarnere

A/N: Some of these plot points seem strange in any other time than Shakespeare’s but are ultimately intended to be entertaining, not realistic. There are some scenes with threats of violence or death but nothing graphic or explicit.

Forgive me for the very long post but I wanted it all out in one go, lest we have another Little Women situation. I promise the next one’s coming soon.

Much Ado About Nothing

Bill Guarnere x Reader

Governor Wilson is a rather stern man, but when it comes to the women in his life, he is passionate and kind. He finds his girls rather amusing, especially when he receives correspondence.

Today, they’re trying to read a letter over his shoulder, only for him to fold it up and place it in the top drawer of his desk. The postman hides his smile as the governor rolls his chair in front of the drawers.

Governor Wilson turns to his girls, “The letter says that Captain Nixon is coming to our home tonight. It also says that Captain Nixon has given great honours to a young man from Philadelphia named Edward Heffron.”

The two young women share a look. The younger mouths to the older, “Babe!”

The postman notices that they seem to know the young man and speaks up, “The honours are well-deserved, Private Heffron has achieved things that no one would expect from such a young man.”

“Sir, tell me,” the older of the women reaches for the drawer, “has a Private Leonato returned from the war?”

“I don’t believe there was a Private Leonato in the Battalion.” He frowns.

Governor Wilson interrupts, “Who are you actually asking after, niece?”

The younger woman speaks for her, “My cousin refers to Sergeant Bill Guarnere.”

“Oh, he’s returned, and he’s as cheerful as ever.” Believing this ‘cousin’ to fancy the sergeant, the postman plays up his achievements, “He served well in this war, miss. He's a good soldier. He's full of honourable virtues.”

“He’s full of something alright.” She mutters.

Governor Wilson pats the other man on the shoulder, “You mustn’t misunderstand my niece. There is a kind of battle of wits between her and Sergeant Guarnere, whenever they meet.”

“And he’s never won any of these battles.” She waves the discussion away and continues, “But who accompanies him now? It seems every month he has a new best friend.”

“I see this man is not in your good book, miss.”

She scoffs, “No. And if he were in my good book, I'd burn down my library. Now please tell me, who is his newest friend?”

The postman looks to the younger woman, then back, and smirks, “He spends most of his time in the company of Babe Heffron.”

“Oh Lord,” the older woman groans, “Guarnere will cling to him like a disease! Guarnere is easier to catch than the plague, and the person he's infected will go insane. God help poor Babe! If he's caught the Guarnere, he'll lose all his money trying to be cured.”

“I'll make sure to stay on your good side, my lady.” The postman winks and leaves the room.

Governor Wilson rubs his niece’s shoulders, “My dear Y/N, you will never ‘catch the Guarnere.’”

“No, not until hells freezes over.” Y/N smiles falsely.

Th men returning from war arrive much later in the day. Captain Nixon, young Babe Heffron, Sergeant Guarnere, and an unknown man are met in the foyer by you, your uncle, and your cousin.

The greeting between your uncle and Captain Nixon is warm. The men hug and laugh joyously.

“You welcome your troubles too cheerfully.” Nixon teases, before turning to your cousin. “You must be Violet.”

She blushes prettily and nods.

“That's what her mother keeps telling me.” Your uncle teases, making the other men laugh.

The bane of your existence speaks up, “Were you concerned about it? Since you asked.”

Your uncle jokes, “No, Guarnere, you were only a kid back then. Couldn’t have been you.”

Nixon steps forward and holds one of Violet’s hands in his own. “Nah, you look too much like your honourable father to be anyone else’s child.” He lets go and pats your uncle on the shoulder, “Now good sir, I would like to have a private word with you.”

As the two men move off, Guarnere keeps talking, “Even if Governor Wilson is her father, she don’t wanna look like an old man.”

“Are you still talking, Bill? Nobody’s even paying attention.” You leave your cousin’s side to approach him.

“Oh Miss Spite, you’re still alive?” He reaches out to touch your face, as if to verify it.

You smack it away, “How could Spite die when she has much food in the form of Sergeant Bill Guarnere? When you're around, even Miss Courtesy transforms into Miss Spite.”

“Then she’s a traitor, ‘cause all the ladies of these United States love me. All except you. Not that it matters, since I can’t love them in return.”

You raise your arms in cheer, “What great luck for my sex! You know, I’d rather listen to my dog bark for hours at birds than hear a man swear he loves me.”

Bill smirks and leans closer to you. “Let’s hope you stay that way, so some poor guy doesn’t get his face scratched off.”

“If it's a face like yours then scratching couldn't make it look any worse.” You push his frustratingly sharp jaw away from you.

Captain Nixon and Governor Wilson return to the foyer. It’s only then that you notice Babe and Violet whispering to each other, and the unknown man is standing in the corner, watching everything happen.

Captain Nixon clears his throat, “Babe, Bill, Governor Wilson here has invited us to stay here for the next month or so.”

Your uncle steps in, “You too, Lieutenant Johnson.”

Nixon doesn’t seem very happy with the concept but nods for the man to step forward.

The strange man removes himself from the wall and shakes your uncle’s hand. “Thank you. I’m not one for big speeches, so thank you.”

There are a few moments of awkward silence before Governor Wilson gestures for the parlour. “Come along everyone, let’s have a drink.”

Everyone but Babe and Bill follow your uncle, chatting amongst yourselves.

Babe smacks Bill on the chest and whispers loudly, “Bill, did you notice Violet?”

The Philly man smirks, “I mean yeah I saw her, but nothing worth noticing.”

“Isn’t she beautiful?”

“Are you asking me honestly?”

“Yes, be honest.”

Bill laughs, “All everyone says is she looks like her old man. Her old man has a mustache. I’ll let that speak for itself.”

His redheaded friend frowns, “I’m not joking, Bill. Please, tell me seriously, what do you think of her?”

“Why are you asking?”

“She’s… Bill, she’s an angel.” Babe sighs, looking to the closed parlour doors.

“I just don’t see it, man.” Bill steps back into his friend’s line of sight. “You know despite being such a witch, even Y/N’s prettier than her cousin. Wait. You don’t wanna marry her, do ya?”

Babe looks away from his friend again, “I know I swore I wouldn’t marry, but… if Violet said yes, I’d marry her in a heartbeat.”

Bill throws his arms in the air and laments, “Is this what the world's coming to? Will I never see a sixty-year-old bachelor again?”

Captain Nixon steps out of the parlour, closing the doors behind him quietly. He clears his throat, walking closer, “What’s going on here? Governor Wilson was asking after you both.”

Bill whips around to face his former commanding officer. “You have to order me to tell you.”

The tall brunet flashes a confused smile, “Sure, you’re ordered to tell me about what’s going on.”

Bill gestures to the redhead, “You see, Babe, normally this old trap stays shut. You know that. But I’ve been ordered.” He then turns back to Nixon. “Babe is in love. With Violet!”

“That’s not true!” Babe stutters.

The blonde shouts, “He denies the crime, Nix!”

But Nixon shakes his head, ignoring their antics. “You know if you really love Violet, I approve. I’m sure her father will too.”

“You’re just saying that to trick me into confessing, Nix.”

Nixon’s accent creeps in as his voice gets louder. “I’m being totally honest, Babe.”

Babe blushes, “And I was being honest when I said I loved her.”

Then Bill ruins the moment, “And I was being honest when I said this was a bad idea.”

“Before I go back to Jersey, I’d be happy to see you go pale with lovesickness.” The tall captain smiles.

The shorter man shakes his head. “I'll go pale with anger, or illness, or hunger but never with love, Nix. Hell will have to freeze over first.”

With that he storms off to the parlour, greeting the people inside with a loud quip.

Babe approaches his captain, speaking softly. “Listen Nix, I’m being serious about loving Violet. In fact, I think I loved her even before we went to war.”

Nixon places a gentle hand on the young man’s shoulder. “I know, Babe. Listen, there’s going to be a dance tonight in town. You win over Violet and I’ll win over her father.”

They join the others in the parlour.

The party is already in swing by the time you and Violet arrive. She’s immediately received by a masked man with suspiciously red hair.

“Would you like to dance?”

Her blush is hidden by her own mask, but her voice is teasing, “As long as you’re not as ugly as your mask.”

He laughs and they dance for a song before disappearing into a dark corner.

You watch one of your best friends, Margaret, dancing with a man who looks… creepy. Plus you’re almost certain you’ve seen him talking to that weirdo Lieutenant Johnson. But they’re heavily flirting and she doesn’t seem uncomfortable with it, so you move past it.

Bill approaches you, clearly thinking you don’t know who he is. He is wearing a mask after all. It’s not like you’d know that jaw anywhere.

“Tell me fellow, do you know who Bill Guarnere is?”

He shakes his head and clear his throat, attempting to deepen his voice. “No, who, uh, who is that?”

“Oh come on, surely you know of him. He loves cracking jokes, maybe he’s made you laugh before.”

“No, I got no idea.”

You decide to push it a little, “He’s a real motormouth, you see. The only thing he’s good at is making jokes, but the jokes are too vulgar for civilised society. So he only makes friends with other scoundrels.”

“You know when I meet this man, I’m gonna tell him what you just said.” Bill scoffs.

You laugh, “Go for it. He'll make a joke by comparing me to something insulting, and when no one laughs, he'll get depressed. Now I’m gonna go dance.” You flounce off into the crowd.

Nixon finally shows, a little tipsy already. He throws an arm around Bill’s shoulder. The Philly man looks up at the bleary eyes of his friend, “She definitely recognised me, huh?”

“Yep. Now, have you seen Babe?”

“He’s with Violet I think.” Bill sulks.

Nixon smiles, then his face drops into faux seriousness. “Why do you dislike Y/N so much?”

“She insulted me Nix! No, you know what, let’s not talk about her.”

“Oh look here she comes.”

Bill cranes his head around to see you step off the dancefloor with Violet and Babe. He whips back to his tall friend, “I’ll see you later Nix.”

He runs past you and your little entourage and you watch him leave with a slightly concerned frown.

You school your expression when Nixon asks, “What did you do to old Guarnere?”

“Nothing he hasn’t already done to me. I gave him my heart once and he lost it. Although I suppose I lost it.” You push Babe and your cousin forward, eager to avoid the conversation. “Here, I brought these two.”

Babe wraps his arm around Violet’s waist and the two can’t stop smiling at each other.

“What’s got you smiling so big?” Nixon takes a sip from his flask.

“Violet and I are together. Officially.”

Nixon nods sagely, “Well, I spoke to your father, Violet, and he’s given his approval.”

The two of them are rendered silent for an awful length of time.

“That’s where you say something Babe.” You stage whisper.

The redhead gapes like a fish for a second, “I’m too happy to speak, I think.”

“Now you, cousin. Or kiss him if you can’t speak either.” You nudge Violet.

She takes your advice and the two kiss.

You pull your face in disgust and move around the young couple to stand next to Nixon.

“Isn’t that sweet?” You ask him sarcastically. “Everyone’s getting married except little old me. Maybe I should just sit in a corner and cry until one comes along.”

You don’t notice, but Nixon watches your face with a gentle adoration that matches his soft tone. “I can find you a husband.”

“Oh do you have a brother?” You look up at him.

He turns to face you head-on and tucks his flask into his jacket. “Would you take me?”

You panic for a second, heart fluttering and your mind racing for a quip. “Look Captain Nixon, you’re too good for me. You’re like a ballgown and I need a working dress.” You slap a hand to your forehead, “I’m sorry, I was born to tell jokes and not to make sense.”

The handsome man pulls your hand away and holds it in both of his. “I think I’d be more offended if you stayed silent. Your jokes suit you more.”

You smile brightly and remove your hand from his grasp. “If you’ll excuse me.”

As you turn to leave, you bump into your uncle who asks you to see to Violet later. You nod and kiss his cheek as you walk off briskly.

Your uncle notices Nixon smile as you walk away and draws his attention. “She’s a rather spirited young lady, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes sir, though she seems adamant about not marrying.” He says with a rueful chuckle.

The two men stand there for a moment before a lightbulb sparks between them.

Nixon begins the conversation. “You know, she’d make an excellent wife for Bill.”

Your uncle smiles and waves Babe and Violet over. “How do you two kids feel about marrying next week rather than tomorrow?”

While they don’t seem happy about it, the young couple does seem interested in what the older men were discussing.

Governor Wilson takes the lead. “We were discussing an idea about an almost impossible task.”

Nixon asks, “Don’t you think Bill and Y/N would make a very handsome couple?”

When the young couple agree, Wilson continues, “We can play Cupid. Push the two together.”

Violet giggles, “If it means my cousin will have a good husband, I will do whatever is needed.”

Babe shrugs, “And Bill ain’t the worst guy I know. He’s a pretty honourable fella.”

“Great. Now let’s discuss our plan.” Your uncle claps his hands together, leading the three back home.

Meanwhile, Lieutenant Johnson pulls his own friend away from Margaret. “Did you hear, Conrad? Babe is marrying Violet.”

Conrad frowns, “Yes. Why does that matter?”

Johnson gives the man a disappointed look. “I’ve told you before. Captain Lewis Nixon needs a kick off that high horse. What better way to do it than to ruin the lives of his friends?”

Conrad seems a little unsure but agrees. “I can do it sir.”

“How?”

Conrad points over his shoulder to Margaret, “That’s Y/N’s friend. She likes me. A lot.”

Johnson sighs through his nose. “How is that helpful?”

“She looks a whole lot like someone we and Babe have in common, don’t she?”

Johnson squints to get a better view then it clicks. He smiles widely, “Oh how wicked.”

Conrad returns the smile, “Now it’s up to you to spread the rumours, sir.”

Captain Nixon, Governor Wilson and Babe all step out onto the porch, drinks in hand.

Nixon speaks at an unnecessarily loud volume, “Now Governor Wilson, what was it you said earlier today? Y/N is in love with Bill Guarnere?”

Wilson clears his throat and replies in an equal tone. “Oh yes, of course.”

The men hear a thud from the balcony above. Babe peeks out and sees Bill’s shoe peek out through the railing.

The redhead gestures wildly, letting the other men know Bill is up there, eavesdropping. He also talks in the loud tone, “And here I thought she could never love anyone.”

“Oh, I didn't either.” Wilson continues. “Especially with Bill Guarnere, who she's always said she hated. I don't know what to think about it. But she loves him so much it goes beyond understanding.”

Nixon fakes a sad tone, “Maybe she's only pretending.”

Babe nods sagely, “That does seem more likely.”

The gruff older man chuckles, “Pretending? Then she’s a very good actor.”

The men hear a clang. Babe whispers, “The fish is about to bite.”

Nixon picks up the intensity, “Has she revealed her feelings?”

“No, and she swears she never will.” Wilson shakes his head.

Babe sneaks a look over his shoulder to see Bill’s head pop back up. “Violet says the same. She said once Y/N wrote him a letter but tore it up. Y/N cried, ‘I just know he would mock me for writing this because I would do the same. How could I claim I love him when I’ve been so cruel?’”

Wilson nods and points to Babe, “Violet told me the same story.”

“If Y/N won't tell Bill, maybe one of us should.” Nixon sighs heavily.

Babe claps his captain on the shoulder, “Don't tell him, Nix. Let her get over her feelings.”

Governor Wilson laments, “That's impossible. Her heart might give out first.”

“Well, we'll hear more about this from your daughter.” Nixon raises his voice even further. “Let's leave it for now. I like Bill a lot, but I wish he could see how undeserving he is of Y/N.”

A bell rings from inside the house and Wilson speaks lowly to his companions, “That’ll be dinner.”

When there are no footsteps above them, Babe pokes his head out to see Bill rubbing the back of his head. The three men share knowing looks. Babe whispers as they head inside, “If he doesn't fall in love with her after this, I'll eat my hat.”

Nixon chuckles, “I got an idea. Let's send Y/N to call Bill in to dinner.” The three begin to laugh in earnest.

The next day, Violet, Margaret and their friend Zenie plot in the living room.

Violet grabs your best friend’s hand. “Margaret, would you mind grabbing my cousin? Tell her you overheard Zenie and I gossiping about her and that she should come eavesdrop. We’ll handle the rest.” She giggles with her own best friend.

Margaret nods and runs off to find you. “Now Zenie, when we talk about Bill, you should praise him more than any man ever deserved. And I'll talk to you about how Bill is sick with love.”

There’s a thud as you drop to your knees and crawl to hide behind a potted plant.

Violet nods vigorously at Zenie and begins their ruse, “She’s too mean, Zenie. She’ll just break his heart.”

“But are you sure that Bill is even in love with Y/N?” Zenie says melodramatically.

Violet mouths ‘tone it down’ and says, “That's what Nix and Babe say.”

“And did they ask you to tell Y/N about it, Vi?”

Violet looks over her friend’s shoulder to make sure you’re listening. “They did. But I told them that if they really cared for Bill, they should never let Y/N know about them.”

“Why did you say that?” Zenie seems actually confused by this statement but Violet’s expression informs her it’s still part of the bit. “Doesn't Bill deserve a wife as good as your cousin would be?”

“Oh no dear Zenie. It wouldn't be good if she learned about Bill's love, she would just made a joke of it.”

Zenie nods astutely, “Of course, you speak the truth. No matter how wise, young, and handsome a man is, she always manages to turn his merits into faults. She turns every man inside out.”

Violet sighs to hide the laughter bubbling up. “Bill should just keep his feelings hidden and waste away.”

“Maybe you should tell her and see what she says.”

“No, I should rather go to Bill and tell him to fight against his feelings.” Violet leans back into her couch to see you attempting to crawl closer quietly.

Zenie sits back too and hides you from sight. “Oh, don't do your cousin wrong like that! If she really is as smart as she appears, then she can't refuse a man like Bill Guarnere.”

There’s a hushed “Ow shit!” as you get carpet burn on your knee, but the two girls ignore it.

“Why he's the best man in the U.S. except for my Babe of course.” Violet sits back up. “Anyway, enough talk of my cousin and her cruelty. I want to show you some dress options for my wedding.”

As they link arms and walk out, Violet watches you in the reflection of the living room window. You blow cool air on your knee, then a thought crosses your face. You rest a hand on your heart and smile giddily.

Zenie and Violet giggle to themselves. “We got her good, Vi.”

Nixon, Babe, Bill, and your uncle all sit around the table in the parlour, discussing the future after Babe and Violet’s wedding.

“I'll only stay until your marriage is official, and then I'll go home to New Jersey.” Nixon sips at his whiskey, determined to keep somewhat sober the night before his friend’s wedding.

Sweet Babe offers, “I can travel with you, Nix.”

The usually mischievous smile on Nixon’s face melts into a sincere one. “No, that won’t be necessary. Especially right after you get married! It’d be like showing a child his shiny, new coat and then not letting him wear it. I'll make Bill come with me; his jokes can keep me company.”

Said joker clears his throat and puts his drink down, on a coaster! “Gentlemen, I’m not the same man I used to be.”

Wilson’s bushy eyebrows furrow as he scrutinises Bill. “I agree. You seem more serious.”

The youngest in the room sips to hide his laughter, “I sure hope it means he's in love.”

“There's no way in hell! Bill doesn't have a heart to love with. If he looks serious, then he needs money.” Nixon teases.

Bill’s jaw works overtime as he struggles to come up with a reply. “I- I have a toothache.”

The other men laugh, their cackles growing louder when Nixon quips, “Are you this depressed over a toothache? Just pull the tooth.”

The short man grumbles, picking his drink back up. “Everyone’s a goddamn doctor except the person actually sick.”

Babe places his drink, not on a coaster. Bill moves it so it is. His redheaded companion snorts as he watches the movement. “I still say he's in love. All his symptoms point to it.”

“Certainly. I mean Bill's peach fuzz is gone.” Wilson begins talking like the man isn’t in the room.

“And he's covered himself in perfume.” Nixon mimes putting on cologne.

“And when has he ever been in the habit of washing his face?” Babe plays along, slapping his own cheeks in an imitation of splashing water.

“All this talk won't cure a toothache.” Bill snaps then gestures to your uncle, “Walk with me a while. I have something I gotta talk with you about, and I don't want these idiots to hear.”

As the two men leave, Johnson nods in greeting and enters the parlour.

“Good evening!” Johnson grins, shaking the seated men’s hands.

The two return the favour and invite the slimeball to sit in front of them.

“I'd like to speak with you both. If that’s alright.”

“What's the matter?” Nixon asks, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees.

Johnson makes a show of looking over his shoulders before leaning closer, “I came here to tell you, and, without any unnecessary details your lady is unfaithful.”

“Who, Violet? Unfaithful?” Babe’s freckles stand sharper against his paling skin. He turns to his friend for support, “Can this be so?”

Nixon keeps his eye on Johnson, “I refuse to believe it.”

Johnson grimaces, insincerely expressing sympathy. “If you follow me, I'll show you proof. Once you've seen and heard that proof, you can act accordingly.”

Babe nods seriously, heart pounding in his chest. “If I see anything tonight that convinces me not to marry her, then tomorrow I'll shame her in front of the same congregation where I would have married her.”

Nixon sighs through his nose, “Since I vouched for her with her father, I will join you in disgracing her.”

Johnson expertly hides his excitement over the strife he’s created. “Come. See for yourself.”

They all exit the parlour, sneaking up to Violet’s bedroom. The door is cracked slightly so Johnson pushes Babe forward.

All the redhead can see is a woman… riding a man who’s not him. She looks remarkably like his Violet, and she cries out in pleasure. When the man beneath shouts “Violet!” in ecstasy, Babe stumbles back into his friend Nixon.

The taller man wraps an arm around the heartbroken man. He nods a grave thanks to the man he’d previously mistrusted and leads his young friend away.

Johnson watches as the young woman clambers off the bed, red faced and angry as her bed partner smirks.

She storms out and bumps into Johnson, her angry flush instantly turning into white-faced shame.

Violet twirls around in her pure white dress, stopping only so Zenie can nestle the veil into her bed of curls.

The two women pause in the mirror, Zenie wrapping her arms around her friend from behind. “I think the other veil looks better.” She teases.

“Oh shush, I'll wear this one.”

“I swear it's not as good as the other one, and I bet your cousin will say the same.”

“I'll wear this one and no other.” Violet pulls away, taking the veil off to lay it on the bed. “It makes me feel lighter than air, which I’ll need, for my heart is heavy.”

Zenie sputters, “It will be even heavier soon, with the weight of a man on top of you.”

“Zenie!” The young bride pokes at her friend’s ribs, “Aren't you ashamed?”

“Of what, Vi? Is there any harm in saying that your husband will lie on top of you? No, don’t answer. I’ll ask Y/N.”

You enter the room as if on cue, big sunglasses over your eyes and your hair still wrapped in silk.

“Good morning, cousin.” Violet and Zenie share a soft giggle at your appearance.

“Good morning, sweet Violet, Zenie.” You flop face first onto the bed.

“What’s going on? You sound sick.” Your cousin sits next to your head, rubbing your back gently.

“It's the only way I can sound, I think.” You turn around with a gasp. “It's almost five o'clock, you should be getting ready!”

Zenie giggles and gestures to you still in your sleepwear, while Violet only needs to put on her shoes and she’s ready to run down the aisle.

“What are you implying, Zenie?” You exaggerate your movements, gesturing to her like she did to you.

“Nothing!” She smiles knowingly, “Perhaps you think that I think you're lovesick.” When you fake-gag, she continues, “You know Sergeant Guarnere was like you once. He swore that he would never marry. But now, despite all that yammering, he yearns for love.”

“Why are you talking so quickly? It makes my head spin.” You groan, flopping back again.

“I'm not speaking untruthfully.” Zenie smiles then opens the door when someone knocks.

Margaret enters, looking a little ill herself.

“Everyone’s almost ready at the church.” She announces before almost running from the room.

“Let me help you get dressed, cousin. Zenie, we need mimosas please.”

Despite being absurdly hungover, you’ve never been happier. Seeing Violet’s giddiness as she stands next to her fiancé brings you great joy.

The Reverend begins. “Edward Heffron, have you come here to marry this woman, Violet Wilson?”

“No.” The redhead’s response sends a bolt of anxiety down your spine.

“He means he's here to be married to her. Reverend, you're the one who's come to marry her.” Your uncle tries to smooth things over.

The reverend gives the governor a side-eye. “Violet Wilson, do you come to be married to his man, Edward Heffron?”

She sneaks a look to her fiancé and nods. “I do.”

“If anyone here knows of any reason why these two should not be married, now is the time to speak.” The reverend looks around the room. It remains silent until Babe speaks again.

“Do you know of any, Violet?”

The sweet girl frowns, “None.”

“Do you know of any, Private Heffron?” The reverend clasps his hands before him.

Babe turns to your uncle, and you begin to surreptitiously make your way to Violet’s side. “Governor Wilson, you’ve given me your daughter’s hand freely, correct?”

“As freely, son, as God gave her to me.” Your uncle smiles proudly at his daughter, who grows increasingly confused.

“What could I possibly give you in return for this precious gift?” Babe grabs Violet’s arm and pulls her close.

Captain Nixon stands, “Nothing, unless you give her back.” The congregation gasps.

Babe gets a sad, almost dead expression on his face and throws Violet towards her father. “There, good Governor! Take your daughter back again! See how she blushes! But she is a liar! Her blush is from guilt, not modesty.”

Violet begins to sob. Your uncle holds her protectively. “What are you talking about?”

Babe raises his voice, and you can see Bill out of the corner of your eye. He steps close to you, shaking his head to stop you from intervening.

“I mean I refuse to marry an unfaithful bride.” He chuckles despondently, “I know what you will say: if I slept with her, our marriage would prevent any scandal. No, sir, all I offered your daughter was bashful sincerity and modest love.”

Violet’s rageful tears coat her voice, “And have I ever showed anything else to you?”

“Stop lying!” Babe steps forward in anger. Captain Nixon moves in front of him, trying to keep him calm.

Babe nods to let his friend know to step away. “Let me just ask your daughter one question. You are her father, tell me that she speaks truthfully.”

Your uncle nods. “She will be truthful.”

“What kind of interrogation is this?” Violet looks between her love and her father.

Captain Nixon acts as the good cop. “We want you to answer to your name and show who you truly are.”

“I’m named for the flower, is that not enough for you?”

Babe spits his words at Violet, “’Faithfulness and modesty.’ All lies! Who were you with last night?”

Violet shows some relief. Surely, he will believe her when she explains herself. “With no-one, Babe.”

Captain Nixon claps Governor Wilson on the shoulder, “I'm sorry you must hear this, my friend. But I, Lieutenant Johnson, and Babe saw and heard Violet last night with a man.”

“We saw you, you liar! You adulteress!” Babe points an accusing finger at Violet.

Violet’s breath grows quicker, more panicked. Her eyes roll back in her head, and you run forward to catch her. You and Bill lay her head in your lap.

Lieutenant Johnson steps out from the crowd. “Come, let’s go. She’s fainted from guilt. These secrets being brought to light have overwhelmed her.”

You tap her cheeks to wake her. She doesn’t stir. You hold a finger under her nose and feel no breath puffing against it. “I think she’s dying!” You panic and cry to the congregation.

They all ignore you, following the three men from the chapel.

“What’s wrong?” Bill crouches down as you shake your cousin.

“I think she’s dying.”

Your uncle storms over to you all, “I should hope she is!”

Bill stands up, holding your furious uncle back.

Violet stirs, looking up at you with bleary, tear-filled eyes.

“No, Violet! Don’t open your eyes. If I didn't think that you were about to die from your shame, then I would condemn you and kill you myself!” Your uncle fights against Bill’s hold.

“Sir, sir, calm down. Just listen to what she has to say.” Bill soothes him.

“I swear, uncle, my cousin has been slandered!” You reach for your uncle also trying to soothe him.

“Would those men lie? Would Babe – who loved her so much that just listing her crime made him weep – lie?”

The reverend clears his throat. “Hear me for a moment. I've only kept silent this long, and let these events unfold as they did, because I've been watching Violet carefully. I’ve seen thousands of young brides blush as she has. Call me a fool if you want, but I believe in her innocence as I believed in theirs. I also noticed a young woman, who looked much like your daughter run from the pews in tears.”

The gears turn in your head as your uncle turns his temper on the reverend, “This cannot be. Why are you trying to excuse her crimes?”

Reverend Frank helps your cousin from the ground gently, “Who is it you're accused of meeting with?”

Violet holds his gaze. “Ask the ones who accuse me. I don't know.” She turns to your uncle and grabs his hands in hers. “Oh father, if you can prove that I was indecent with any man last night, then hate me all you wish!”

The sincerity in her eyes placates her father.

The reverend addresses your little group. “There must have been some strange misunderstanding.”

“It’s that asshole Johnson, I’m sure of it. Even at training, he loved to cause arguments between the men.” Bill asserts.

The gears have taken their time, but they work. “The young woman must be sweet Margaret, but I am certain she knew nothing of Johnson’s plot. She and Violet have often been mistaken for each other.”

“Now listen Governor Wilson. Those men have left your daughter for what they thought was dead here. Hide her secretly in your house for a while and make it publicly known that she is dead. Keep up a show of mourning, perform all the usual burial rites.”

You, Bill, and your cousin share concerned glances, but your uncle entertains the idea. “What will this accomplish?”

The reverend lays out his prank, “Well, if we play our cards right, it will change her accusers’ minds to remorse. If we maintain that she died the instant she was accused, whoever hears this will mourn her, pity her, and excuse her. Young Babe will hear that Violet died because of his words, and if he ever truly felt love for her, he will mourn, and wish that he hadn't accused her. And if this plan doesn't work, you can send her away where she'll be out of reach of all insults.”

When you all stare at him with varying expressions of disbelief, the reverend shrugs, “Strange diseases require strange cures.”

Your uncle and Violet hug and he apologises profusely. The reverend continues discussing the plan with them as they leave you and Bill alone in the chapel.

“Have you been weeping this whole time?” Bill asks, brushing a tear from your cheek.

You sniff and pull away, “Yes, and I will cry for a little longer.”

Bill stays close to you, keeping eye contact. “I wish you wouldn't.”

“You have no reason to wish that. I do it willingly.”

“I do truly believe that Violet was wronged.”

You smile spitefully, “Ah, what I’d give to the man who made this right!”

“Is there anything I can do to help?”

“This is a man's job, but not a job for you.”

“There's nothing in the world I love as much as you. Isn't that strange?” He blurts the sentence out and watches you expectantly. You can only stare at him open-mouthed.

Eventually you stutter, “As strange as my own confusion. It would also be possible for me to say that there's nothing I love as much as you. But don't believe me when I say it and yet I'm not lying. I confess nothing, and I deny nothing.” You cover your face with your hands hoping to cool the flames of embarrassment.

He peels your hands away and stands so close you can feel his breath on your lips. His voice is the softest you’ve ever heard it. “I’ll swear to whatever I need to that you love me.”

“Don't swear. You might have to eat your words later.”

“I'll swear that you love me, and if any man says I don't love you, I'll make him eat my fist.”

“But you won't eat your words?”

“Not with any sauce that could be invented for them. I declare that I love you.”

“I love you with so much of my heart that none of it is left to protest my own declaration.”

“Ask me to do anything for you. So I can prove my love.”

“Kill Edward Heffron.” And the spell is broken.

Bill steps away and gives a sharp laugh, “Not for the whole wide world.”

Your heart shatters and the tears well again. “Then you’ve killed me by refusing.”

You begin to storm past him but he stops you with a gentle grip. “Wait, Y/N please.”

“I see now there is no true love in you. Please, let me go.” You rip your arm away.

“Y/N-“

“You claim to be my friend but you won't fight my enemies?”

“Since when is Babe your enemy?”

“Hasn't he proved to be the worst kind of villain by abusing and humiliating my cousin? Oh, if only I were a man! What, he just leads her on until the moment they were exchanging vows, and then with pure hatred-“ Your hands shake with anger, “Oh God, if only I were a man! I would rip out his heart and eat it in the marketplace.”

“Listen to me, Y/N-“

“Sleeping with a man with her bedroom door open! That's a likely story!”

“No, but Y/N-“

“Sweet Violet is ruined!”

“Y/N-“

“Oh, if only I were a man, I would deal with those scoundrels! Or even if I had a friend who would be a man for my sake!” You gesture angrily at Bill. “But I can't become a man by wishing, so I'll die as a woman, from grief.”

Bill grabs your hand in both of his. “Y/N just listen. I swear by this hand, I love you.”

Your eyebrows furrow as you plead with him, “Then use it for something other than swearing, and prove your love for me.”

“Do you really believe in your soul that Babe has wronged Violet?”

“Yes. As sure as I have a soul.”

“Then I will challenge him. Babe will pay for what he's done. Keep me in your thoughts and go comfort your cousin. I'll tell them that she is dead.” He kisses your hand once, twice, then strides purposefully out of the chapel.

Bill finds the men sitting in the study.

Nixon stands when he enters, reaching out to shake his hand. “Just the man we were looking for.”

“Hey Bill.” Babe says with a barely-there smile.

Bill just nods.

Nix and Babe share a confused look but invite Bill to sit.

“You just missed Governor Wilson.”

Babe laughs sardonically, “Thought the old man was gonna break my neck.”

“I came to find you both.” Bill replies, uncharacteristically serious.

“We've been looking everywhere for you too-“ Babe is interrupted by his friend.

“You alright Bill? You look a little pale.”

“Can I have a word with you?” The blonde meets Babe’s eyes.

“Why? Is this about Y/N?” The man’s red eyebrows waggle suggestively.

Bill squares up to his young friend, “I'm not joking around Babe. You've killed an innocent girl, and your punishment for killing her will be harsh.” Babe’s face drops. He looks to Nixon, who’s covered his mouth in shock. “Say something!”

Bill’s exclamation makes Babe jump. But he says nothing.

“Very well. I’ll see you later, boy. You know what I plan.” He turns to Nixon with a half-hearted salute. “Captain, Lieutenant Johnson has fled, leaving the two of you to face what happened to Violet. The three of you have killed a pure and innocent girl. Now you get to live with that.”

Bill exits the room with haste, determined not to let his friends see his tears.

For the first time in a while, the veterans are rendered silent. The reality of what happened sets in. They’d killed Violet. With their slander and cruelty.

Governor Wilson returns, disrupting their daze. He drags behind him, Conrad, who Lieutenant Johnson must have left behind.

“This man says he killed Violet. He claims he planned this whole thing, even Margaret’s involvement.” The old man shows some surprising strength, shoving Conrad forward into the room.

Conrad cowers before Captain Nixon. “Yes, I acted alone. Margaret didn't know what she was doing when she spoke to me. All I've ever heard about her is that she is honest and virtuous.”

“No, no, boy, you weren't the only one.” Wilson points to both Babe and Captain Nixon. “Here stand a pair of ‘honourable men’ who also had a hand in this crime. I thank you, men, for my daughter's death. Record it in the list of your great achievements.”

Babe’s face crumples as he begins to cry. “Sir, I don’t know how I can ever atone for what I’ve done. I’m so sorry.”

Captain Nixon nods solemnly. “If… Is there anything we can do?”

“You cannot bring my daughter back, but you can clear her name. Both of you. If she meant anything to you, Heffron, write her an epitaph.” The old man seems to get an idea. “Since we’ve prepared the festivities for a wedding, it must go ahead. I have a niece who is the spitting image of sweet Violet. Give her what you should have given her cousin and we will leave it there.”

All Babe can do is nod his agreement, face so red and stained with tears he can hardly see.

“Farewell until then.” Wilson drags Conrad back out with them.”

Nixon takes the blubbering redhead in his arms.

“I'll mourn for Violet tonight.” He cries.

The two men don’t dare enter the mausoleum where Violet eternally rests. They leave their epitaph at the door.

‘Here lies Violet,

A flower wilted by slanderous tongues.’

Bill paces anxiously on the patio the next morning. The door behind him opens gently and you walk toward him, equally awkward.

“Sweet Y/N, did you come because I called you?”

“Yes, sir,” you salute teasingly, “and I'll leave when you command.”

“Oh, stay until then!”

“Well, you've said ‘then.’ So farewell. But before I go, let me get what I came for – what happened between you and Babe?”

“Babe knows what he has to do. What’s coming to him. Now, please tell me, which of my bad qualities did you first fall in love with?” Bill steps closer with a cheeky smirk.

“With all of them together, I suppose.” You step even closer, your chests almost touching. “Which of my good qualities first made you suffer love for me?”

“Suffer love! That’s a good way to put it. Yeah, I guess I do suffer love, I love you against my will.” He teases, wrapping an arm around your waist. “How is your cousin?”

You sigh through your nose, “She's very heartsick.”

“And how are you doing?”

Your eyes move from his eyes to his lips and back up. “I'm sick, too.”

Margaret slams the doors open, ignoring your precarious position. Even if you wanted to, Bill doesn’t let you go.

“Y/N, you gotta to your uncle's study. It's been proved that our Violet was falsely accused, the Captain and Babe were greatly deceived, and Lieutenant Johnson is responsible for everything.” Margaret smiles for the first time in days and runs back inside.

“Let’s go!” Bill gestures for you both to follow your dear friend.

The reverend stands at the altar, smug expression on his face. Governor Wilson and Bill join him. “Didn't I tell you that she was innocent?”

Wilson exhales sharply, “I’m just glad that things have turned out so well.”

Bill nods, “So am I, otherwise I’d be fighting with Babe right now. But before we begin, can I ask you to do something for me please?”

“And what would that be, sir?”

Bill looks to Governor Wilson, “The truth is your niece seems to really like me. And I think I might love her.”

“I should hope all our efforts weren’t in vain.”

“Huh?” Bill frowns, face scrunching. “Anyway, what I want – what I want is your blessing, so your niece and I can be married today too.” He flicks his gaze between the reverend and the governor. Both agree wholeheartedly, congratulating him.

Nixon and Babe walk up, still a little worse for wear after the emotion of the previous night.

“Ready?” The governor asks them, not actually caring for their response.

When they nod, he claps and everyone disperses to their seats. Four women dressed in black veils enter, walking down the aisle slowly.

“Which is the lady I'm going to marry?” Babe leans over to whisper in Wilson’s ear. The old grump gestures to her and she steps forward. “Sweet one, let me see your face before we marry.”

The woman lifts her veil and Babe stumbles back in horror. A ghost!

“Violet! But you were dead!”

She steps forward and grabs his hands in her own. “I was only dead while my slander lived, dear Babe. When I knew you had forgiven me and yourself for what happened, I knew I had to reappear to you.”

The couple embraces, Babe still a little in shock and Violet in a daze of happiness.

When Nixon gives him a bewildered look, the Reverend raises his hands to address the congregation, “I can explain all these surprises. After the wedding ceremony is over, I'll tell you in full detail about this little scheme. In the meantime, let's accept these events as natural, and marry these young lovers.”

Babe and Violet stay wrapped around each other, unwilling to part after this whole saga.

“Just a moment, Reverend.” Bill steps in, looking at the other three veiled women. “Which one of you is Y/N?”

“I answer to that name. What do you want?” You rip your veil completely off your head.

“Do you love me?”

You move toward him like you’re going to shush him. “No, not at all.”

Bill scoffs, “Why then, your uncle, Nix, and Babe have been lied to. They swore you did.”

You turn your nose up, “Do you love me?”

“No not at all.”

“Then, my cousin, Margaret, and Zenie have been deceived, for they swore you did.”

Babe smirks down at Violet and pulls a piece of paper from his pocket, “I'll swear that he loves her. Here's a letter in his handwriting, dedicated to Y/N.” He blocks Bill from snatching the paper and gives it to you. You poke your tongue out and tauntingly wave it in Bill’s face.

“And here's another, stolen from my cousin's pocket, written in her handwriting, full of her affection for Bill.” Violet stumbles as you cling to her, desperately trying to destroy all evidence. She successfully hands a piece of paper to Bill who pulls a face at your expense.

You both feverishly read what the other has written. It’s actually rather sweet. You look back up and meet each other’s eyes.

Bill smirks and teases you, “Come, I'll take you then, but I'm only doing it out of pity.”

You step closer and smile in return, “I won't refuse you. But, to be clear, I'm only doing this because everyone persuaded me-“

“Shut up!” Bill plants his hands on your cheeks and kisses you firmly. There is tremendous cheering not only from your friends and family, but the entire congregation.

When you pull back, all you can see is your love. Who’d have thought? Y/N Guarnere has quite the ring to it.

[blazingstar29]

gender wittering

(body image/perception and relation to gender)

lately when it comes to purposely dressing more masculine, and i say this because as a kid people thought i was a boy and then as i got older and kept the shorter hair people in stores would sometimes think girl? boy? girl. but in the past six months it’s been much more intentional and that’s brought about two things. 1. apparently way more easily clocked as afab. I walked into a cafe with a friend, i was wearing a trucker cap, sleeveless tank jeans and boots and we were instantly referred too as ladies.

the second is that i’m sort of getting used to being a bit fugly. in the sense that, my entire life looking good (not even pretty, just good) has been equates to my feminine attributes. for the longest time it’s felt that i cant look nice without being feminine.

trousers and shorts are the bane of my existence and i haven’t really found my ideal pair mainly because i’m built like a literal hour glass which doesn’t help when your trying to look like a cis guy who carries his weight completely differently. so there’s outfits where i have to accept that if 14 year old me saw me ‘she’d’ think i looked hideous, but me right now is completely fine.

anyway, going clothes shopping again tomorrow so hopefully i’ll find some stuff and maybe i’ll bite the bullet and get a binder

[bruciemilf]

I honestly think that for Gotham criminals—regular criminals, drug lords, pedos, abusers, etc—getting caught by a vigilante with Bat in their name is the best case scenario at this point. Like, at least with Batman, Batwoman and Black Bat, you at least know you're making it out of it alive. If they've had a bad day, maybe you'll end up with a few broken bones or be sore for a month or two, but you'll recover.

If you're caught by Red Hood when he's had a bad day? Say goodbye to your life. If Red Robin hasn't made a singular smart comment during your fight and you want to get out of this without lifelong injuries, just turn yourself in right then and there. Robin chooses violence on the regular, you never know if he's going to be normal or downright vicious, and it's best not to take the risk without a reasonable vigilante there. If you're fighting an angry Nightwing and there's nobody to hold him back, it's best you start saying your prayers so maybe someone will show up and pull him off you at some point .

For Rogues, see, there's safe Rogues. If you're one of the Sirens and catch a Bird having a bad day, the worst they'll do is break down crying when faced with the prospect of having to fight you. Selina has been faced with countless of these breakdowns over the years and is the most equipped to handle them, Harley can distract and knows calming techniques, Ivy's easy to rant to. If you're Harvey, or Oswald, or even just a generally harmless Rogue, as long as you aren't doing something horrible, they'll leave you be. If you're literally any other Rogue—Bane, Black Mask, Riddler, Scarecrow, the Joker, etc, be thankful if you make it back to Arkham with more than eight bones intact.

ESPECIALLY if they let you have the first hit. That means they can claim provocation when they're standing over your barely-breathing body. They don't get into as much trouble with Batman if they can claim self defense.

Bruce, Cass, and Kate are the only ones with defined no-kill rules. The rest abide by it for peace sake for the most part, but there are always exceptions, and you don't want to be one of them.

OH GOSH YESSSSS

Let's be honest, - the rogues? Family friends. The Sirens are family PERIOD, and Harvey's their second honorary father after Clark, courtesy to Bruce. Also, kids tend to assimilate traits from people they look up to/love.

Robins and Rogues, tale as old as time.

When he's sad, Tim will flop himself over Bruce like a bunny. " Tell me a joke, Brucie," and of course a tired but fond sigh leaves Bruce's lips. " What do you call a vegan BBQ?"

" What?"

" A funeral."

Tim rolls his eyes like Harley, too.

Cass learns the sophisticated art of tantrums and pouting from Selina; Crossed arms, bratty eye roll, so much sass she's sizzling. Bruce has a Sigh jar, now.

Damian picks up an interest in plan and promptly transforms the manor in his very own botanical garden.

Alfred doesn't mind. The air is fresher, smells cleaner, they look beautiful againts their monochromatic palette, and everyone must take care of them. No exceptions.

A breath of relief unlocks Damian's stiff frame. " Persephone smiles upon us."

" Persephone? Where did you learn that, habibi?"

" Aunt Pamela said Greek Mythology belongs to lesbians, so I can't divulge."

Caught between " Jason hits Bruce with every single legal technicality Harvey thought him to evade getting benched" and " Jason accidentally calls Bruce pet names Spanish or Italian when he's distracted."

" My alma can yo- SHIT,"

" GUYS, HE DID IT AGAIN!"

Also, there's a difference between murder and killing; Bruce won't weep after monsters, that's for damn sure. Which gets him questioning gazes from the GCPD.

" Do you know how many people your buddies kill?"

" Do YOU?"

[bigskydreaming]

Okay, so you know “Justice League meets Batman’s kids, who they’d previously been unaware existed” AUs?

So picture that.....but this time, instead of them just having no knowledge of any of these other Gotham vigilantes at all....the Batkids all migrate to various cities as they get older and become known as their protectors - Dick in Bludhaven, Tim in San Francisco, Cass in Hong Kong, etc....

Meaning they’re all established figures, the Justice League are aware of them as solo local heroes who stick to their cities and so they just don’t interact with them much if at all, or else some are members of team lineups but are particularly vague about their histories or life outside of the team’s adventures....

So the big reveal isn’t that they become aware of all these other Gotham vigilantes all at once....its that some big conflict or whatever requires a huge team up of all available heroes, and in the aftermath, they figure out that like.....despite being known as solo heroes who work alone or loners outside of their team settings, 80% of these heroes all not only seem to already know each other, they seem to be related.

And so naturally they all turn to Batman, who has profiles on every known hero and they thus figure had researched these individuals too and just never mentioned this little detail, and they’re like, “Did you know about this?”

And then Nightwing turns to him too, arms crossed and is like, “Yeah Dad, did you know about this?”

And the infamous Red Hood is all: “I don’t know what you’re talking about. I have never met any of these people before in my life. Lives? Whatever.”

And then Red Robin moodily grates out “I have no siblings.” Since he’s nursing a grudge since Dick and Jason broke into his apartment the night before and replaced all his custom Red Robin gear with Darkwing Duck merchandise and his vengeance will be swift and also totally disproportionate because things escalate quickly in this family, that’s true in every universe.

Cass meanwhile has deftly skewered Jason’s lie by walking over to him and brazenly patting down the man with many many guns with no fear whatsoever. He squawks and futilely attempts to bat her hands away as she riffles through his many pockets, but he doesn’t seem shocked, just annoyed. Eventually, she pulls away and triumphantly reveals a box of Hello Kitty themed band-aids.

“So these are yours then? Just for you?” Black Bat asks smugly. Red Hood squints at the box.

“What the fuck? How long have those been in my jacket? Why are those in my jacket? Did you freaking plant them in my jacket just on the offchance you could at some point in the distant future use them at my expense?”

Black Bat frowns, puzzled. “Yes?”

“Oh come on, Dead Hood,” Spoiler says with an exaggerated toss of her head meant to convey she’s rolling her eyes beneath her own mask. She skips her way across the room to Black Bat and then drapes herself languidly all over the smaller woman. Who in turn doesn’t so much as twitch beneath the sudden added mass as Spoiler holds out her hand towards the box of band-aids. 

“One please. I have a boo-boo,” she says with easy familiarity straight into the intimidating cowl of Black Bat. Only then does she deign to finish her train of thought with Red Hood.

“I mean seriously, are you saying you don’t have potential blackmail set-ups, pre-rigged releases of incriminating material, and a random assortment of traps, pratfalls and mortifying scenarios in place for the express purpose of being able to humiliate any and all of your siblings at any given moment, without any need for additional prep time?”

“Is this true, Little Wing?” Nightwing whirls on the larger Red Hood with a faux-scandalized gasp. The founder and leader of the Titans, formerly the Teen Titans, renowned for his stratagems and calm competence when directing squads of supers in the heat of battle while he keeps pace with nothing more than naturally acquired acrobatics and a utility belt that apparently uses the same technology as Wonder Woman’s invisible jet....now appears to be....staggering with the back of his hand pressed to his forehead, moaning about how he felt....faint? 

What is happening right now, several dozen superheroes want to know. Is this a drill? Are they supposed to be checking for signs of a mental ambush from undetected psychic saboteurs? Did they all hit their heads at the exact same time and are now experiencing some kind of shared mass concussion?

Look, that wouldn’t be the weirdest thing to ever happen on the Watchtower. 

“Have I failed you so utterly?” The veteran child hero bemoans with a dramatic twirl - that when contrasted with his stern demeanor of a mere ten minutes ago - makes the fears of telepathic infiltration seem less paranoia and more....concerningly probable. “Did you learn nothing from me? Did you learn nothing from B?”

He stops and jabs a finger up at the sky. “Quick, everyone! What is the very first rule of Living While Batty?”

As if by rote, over a half a dozen voices chime in from all over the room, causing various heroes to jump. Spooked by yet more and more vigilantes joining in some kind of mass recitation like they and they alone have some kind of clue what the hell is going on and everyone else just hadn’t been invited to the party. Which is just rude, honestly. Nobody likes feeling like they weren’t invited to the party. Not even superheroes. 

“If you’re not going to bother preparing for every possible contingency and at least six impossible ones, you might as well just stay in bed.”

Even the Red Hood joins in the Illuminati chant or Cub Scout pledge or demonic ritual or whatever the fuck that just was, though his slumped and exasperated posture gives away every hint of sulkiness his headgear otherwise would have kept safely hidden. He’s surprisingly more...expressive, than most who’d only known of him by reputation had expected him to be. The day continues to yield surprises.

“Of fucking course I do,” he growls out, snatching the box from Black Bat. She doesn’t even fight to hold onto it, just lets it go with a knowing smirk. “I wasn’t surprised by the idea of it, I was just surprised she bothered with such a weak effort. Like yeah whatever, actually those could be mine. I use those all the time at home. So what?”

He aggressively yanks one of the band-aids out of the box, fumbles with the peel-off strips with one hand and he roughly rolls up the sleeve of his jacket with the other. Then just slaps it on his forearm and raises said appendage high, showing it off this way and that. “See?”

“Oh yeah, for sure,” Signal drawls from the other side of the room, nodding his head approvingly. “Totally convincing. Nice job walking that one back, you really showed them.”

Red Hood’s head snaps in his direction with ominous intent. “Watch it, Day-Glo.”

Signal just snorts.

“Yeah, like I’m gonna take constructive criticism on my name and costume from a dude who’s spent the last several years calling himself Red HOOD while running around in a freaking HELMET.”

“Its not meant to be literal, you fucking pedant.”

“So wait, its not literally a helmet? Huh, does it at least protect your head literally, or just like...symbolically? Like if Bane were to clock you across the head, would your concussion just be a metaphor? What’s the treatment protocol for a metaphorical concussion? Fluids, bedrest and a philosophical prescription of two chapters of Chicken Soup for the Soul as needed?”

“Laugh it up, KC and the Sunshine Band,” Red Hood bats back. “You just got yourself disinvited from Thursday night’s poker game.”

Signal just grins and folds his arms over his chest cockily. “Please. You’ve been looking for an excuse to ban me for weeks, cuz you know until you can prove I’m using my ghost vision to cheat, you can’t actually bring suit against me for it in Family Court.”

“That, and also Family Court isn’t a real thing, you toddler. Stop validating Wing-a-ding-ding’s obsession with Shitty TV Nostalgia and just call it that thing where Oracle traps us all in a room until we settle our latest fight without anyone getting stabbed.”

“Yeah, but like, say that five times fast,” Spoiler pipes up. “Its just not practical. Family Court’s way easier.”

“Says the one who’s not even in our fucking family.”

“And yet I grace you all with my sublime presence anyway,” she blows a kiss at him, beatifically unbothered. “You’re welcome.”

The Red Hood scoffs and rounds on his heel, zeroing in on Batwoman in the far corner.

“Hey Auntie B, my siblings are all dead to me and I just helped stop an alien invasion so I deserve nice things like a fun Saturday night. Can you get me into Dad’s fundraiser so I can crash it? He won’t put me back on the list until I promise not to bring any C-4 with me and I won’t promise not to bring any C-4 because he should just trust me that I won’t when I say I’m not gonna and he won’t trust me that I won’t until I admit I shouldn’t have brought any to that sting last month where three tiny little yachts blew up through barely any fault of my own, and I’m just not gonna do that ever because I have convictions and I feel I shouldn’t have to be punished for that. Y’know?”

Batwoman blinks at him. “Kid, I’m not gonna lie to you. You’re my nephew and I love you, but I stopped listening three seconds into all that.”

“Ugh, fine. Can you help me crash Dad’s event tonight so I can teach him a lesson about why he should just trust me not to make a scene so I don’t have to always make a scene to make a point.”

“Tempting as you make that sound,” she says wryly, “I have a strict policy for dealing with you lot and your......everything. I only worry about tolerating one of you at a time, and there’s seven of you, and seven days in the week. You each get your own. You know perfectly well its Robin’s day today. You get me on Tuesday, just like always.”

“Auntie B, we’re not like other families, are we?” Red Robin’s delivery is sarcastically childish and his question clearly rhetorical. Most of his attention is fixated on whatever it is he’s doing with his wrist-mounted computer. 

“No sweetie, we’re all severely fucked in the head and a little bit too comfortable with that.”

“Just checking. Oh hey, Hood, I just emailed you a patch for the hole in your firewall I exploited when replacing all my shit using your accounts just now.”

“You did what?”

“Used your accounts to pay to replace all my stuff that you fucked with last night?” Red Robin says slowly. “Did you not realize that I’ve been sticking within ten feet of you for the past five minutes just so I could clone your devices and do all that while BB and Spoiler kept you distracted? I gotta say, bro, I feel like that’s on you then.”

Red Hood swivels his helmeted head in the direction of the aforementioned two. Black Bat waves. Spoiler shoots him an utterly unrepentant thumbs up.

“You’d side with your ex over me? That’s what its come to?”

“My only allegiance is to chaos,” Spoiler says brightly. Black Bat shrugs.

“Plus he bribes better.”

“Hateful,” Red Hood points at Black Bat, moving on to level the same finger at Spoiler, who curtsies in acknowledgment: “Hateful-er.”

Then the finger rounds the bases to aim judgmentally at Red Robin. “Hateful-est. And that was all Nightwing’s idea anyway, not mine.”

“Oh, I assumed as much,” he says casually. “Your idea of a prank tends to have more of a Carrie vibe. Or be a literal literary reenactment.”

“Its called an homage, 4chan.”

“Whatever, plagiarist. And anyway, I couldn’t go after ‘Wing for payback on this one. He used an Immunity card. If you didn’t want me getting back at you, you should have used one too."

Red Hood looms aggressively. Red Robin ignores willfully. Round and round they go. Superheroes who can survive excessive G-Forces are getting dizzy just watching them have a largely motionless stand-off. That shouldn’t be how that works, but whatever. All the most infamously reclusive and isolated heroes in all hero-dom are apparently part of the same one big reclusive and isolated family of fucked up weirdos and they’re all officially bonkers. Nothing makes sense anymore. Reality broke. Try another stall.

“Okay, but see, in order to have an Immunity card, I would have to participate in one of you losers’ stupid Immunity challenges,” the Red Hood drags out with exaggerated patience. “And I’m just not going to do that, on account of those all being fucking stupid. You see the problem there?”

Red Robin just shrugs. “I don’t know what to tell you, bro. You can have principles or you can have an Immunity card. You can’t have both.”

Meanwhile, on another side of....the same room.....look, its like, an octagonal room, probably. It has a lot of sides. Robin fends off questions from an aggrieved looking Superboy.

“You never told me you had a bajillion brothers and sisters!”

“Yes but I never said I didn’t either.”

Superboy rolls his eyes. “Oh yeah, so I should just assume everyone I meet has a bajillion secret brothers and sisters?”

“Well clearly it would have worked out in your favor in this instance if you had, now wouldn’t it?”

“Assuming of course that you can trust what has been said or implied here today and I am actually related to any of those numbskulls. Which I am not actually admitting to,” Robin tacks on hastily.

Superboy eyes him dubiously. “You joined in the same creepy chant all the others did and then got super self-conscious and looked around to see if anyone had noticed. Which uh. I did.”

“First off, your interpretation of body language is abyssmal. I do not get self-conscious,” Robin says with a delivery that probably could have benefited from being a little less self-conscious. “And second....that proves nothing. I guessed what they were going to say.”

“Word for word,” Superboy says super-skeptically.

“I’m very good at guessing things. You know this.”

“Okay. Guess how much I believe you right now then.”

Robin glares and folds his arms grumpily across his chest. 

“And what was that anyway? Was that like....you guys’ family motto or something like that?”

“Oh no,” Spoiler pipes up. “That’s much shorter.”

Superboy balks at that. “Wait, you guys actually have one of those for real?”

“Yup,” Steph says, counting out the words with her fingers. “He who laughs last....probably works for the Joker. So tranq him just to be safe. See? Only sixteen words. The first rule of Living While Batty is way longer, and what we said was just the abridged version. You should hear the original, before Black Bat put her foot down and refused to memorize it unless sizable edits were made.”

Superboy hovers between her and Robin now, both in mid-air and on the verge of taking Spoiler’s words as an invitation to hear just that. A low growl arises from Robin’s direction.

“Must you?” He asks the older vigilante, with a most put upon expression.

She looks at him pityingly. “Do you actually need me to answer that? Like, we’ve met, right? Hi, I’m Spoiler.”

“Wait, so Robin said that I just never specifically asked him if he had a bajillion brothers and sisters, and that’s why he didn’t tell me, so that means he wouldn’t have just lied and there’s not some code of secrecy that flat out forbids telling other people stuff, right?” Superboy realizes excitedly.

“Yes, excellent direction. Go on,” Spoiler says, steepling her fingers. Robin buries his face in the palm of one hand.

“Soooo, what other stuff could you tell me about Robin’s super top secret family that I wouldn’t think to ask about but that he would tell me about if I knew what questions to ask?”

She claps once, lightly but with emphasis. “Well done. You’ve passed the first barrier. Untold secrets await you behind just a few more.”

“I’ll get you for this,” Robin vows calmly. She waves a hand at him.

“Yeah, yeah. Just make sure you do it before January 1st, remember? You’ve promised retribution like ten times already this year and those don’t roll over, y’know. Rules are rules.”

“Enough!” Thunders a voice then, from the front of the room. Well one of the fronts anyway. Like sides, it has a lot of them, but this is the one where Batman’s standing. All eyes snap to him. Which is kinda just what eyes do when Batman says stuff like that. Its like his superpower, except he doesn’t actually have superpowers, which is what makes it scary. But where the snapping of the eyes (directional) is usually followed by Batman saying something else besides just “hey look at me,” here he pauses in the wake of his own call to attention’s waning reverberations. Uncharacteristically silent.

Not that, y’know, he’s normally Mr. Talkity Talk, but usually his silences feel like he has the words to fill them, he’s just withholding them. This though, this feels more like he doesn’t have any words at all. And he’s as confused by it as any of them, and most everyone else is confused by Batman being confused, and its this whole trickle down economy of confusion and its wrecking havoc on the value of the golden silence standard.

Of course, not everyone present is rendered spellbound with confusion.

“C’mon B,” Nightwing cajoles, leaning forward and practically radiating delight. “I think you know what you have to do now. This is a once in a lifetime opportunity. Its not likely to come around again.”

Red Hood snickers beneath his helmet and chimes in. “Yeah Pops, go ahead. You do this and you’ll actually have my respect for a whole twenty four hours. No, wait. Sixteen. No! Eight. Yeah, eight. Still a good deal.”

“Carpe diem, B,” Red Robin grins, leaning back as if to enjoy the show.

“Hey! Infringe on my trademark one more time, dude,” Signal throws a faux-glare at the former. Red Robin just quirks an eyebrow.

“And what, you’ll start saying Yum every time you eat a burger? Oh no. I’m hoist by my own petard.”

Signal flips him off with a grin and then redirects his attention back to Batman. “Yeah seriously though B, you kinda gotta do it now. Because if you don’t do it, then you’ll forever be the guy who didn’t do it, and you don’t want to be that guy, do you?”

“Yeah you really don’t want to be that guy,” Spoiler shouts out. “Nobody likes that guy. He’s the worst.”

“Do it, do it,” Black Bat starts chanting beside her, steadily picking up speed and volume. Several others start joining in. Even Robin appears to be slightly anticipatory, albeit trying very hard to hide it.

Batman sighs, and somehow everyone manages to hear it. Stills. Waits for....something? Nobody but them seems to have any clue what, but the air is thick and heavy with portentiousness. Something is about to happen, and all most of the heroes present could say for sure is it was something they never would have in a million years seen coming.

Finally, Batman straightens with the resigned air of a man about to have oh so many regrets. He crosses his arms, shakes his head, and in an absolute deadpan monotone, says:

“You are awful children. You know you’re killing me. You’re killing your father.”

[starfirette]

shadowhunter boys as boyfriends

GENDER NEUTRAL READER | I didn't put the TLH kids (Matthew, James, etc) because the series isn't over yet and as of right now, they're still, for the most part, on the older teenager side. I'll do a Shadowhunter Girls version soon because I need Jessamine and Emma content

Including the Herondales, Lightwoods, Magnus Bane, Jem Carstairs, The Blackthorns, and Kieran.

Herondale

William Herondale is a protective boyfriend, as well as a loudmouth. He thinks he's the best because he's got you. Probably compares you to the other significant others of his friends, in the sense that you're better than everyone else. "Please, you put so-and-so's outfit to SHAME last night" "Oh, so-and-so couldn't kill a sprite if they tried, you've singlehandedly taken down shax" "will, the shax put me in the hospital..." "who the hell took it down, then?" "that was you, dear" "oh, aha, yes that's right. Well, don't feel too bad about it, love". Please just shut him UP

Jace Herondale is the kind of boyfriend who acts like he's totally independent and doesn't need to spend all his time with you, when, in reality, he feels miserable when you aren't around. "Y/n would love this shirt." Alec would tell him to buy it for you. Jace would scoff. "How corny." Alec would say 'Fine, then don't get it.' Jace would keep talking about it until Alec purchased the shirt himself, forcing Jace to gift it to you. Of course, Jace acts like a cool guy about it. "It just reminded me of you, that's all..."

Lightwood

Gideon Lightwood is the childhood bestfriend to lover. You're the one he confides in about everything. He didn't even realize he'd fallen in love with you until your family was on the verge of marrying you off. Gideon would probably stay quiet, letting you go on with the arranged marriage, until everyone around him finally explained how awful that actually is, and you're probably in love with him, too. Once Jem pointed this out, Gideon practically jumped out the window to get to you. Luckily, Jem was right.

Gabriel Lightwood is the childhood enemy to lover. You're the one he hates, and vehemently swore to never be friends with. Well one summer, your family left for a vacation in Idris. You returned for the Autumnal Equinox, all tan and gorgeous, and Gabriel realized you're actually really hot. It all goes down hill from there. He would definitely have been drawn in by your looks at first--but he DOES fall in love with you for real.

Alec Lightwood would never tell you he likes you ever. He'd rather die than confess his crush. You weren't exactly his best friend, but you were more than an acquaintance. Good luck trying to drop hints that you like him, too, because he's too salty and emo to realize that you'd ever like him back.

Carstairs

Jem Carstairs........how can I possibly explain my love for this man? Jem is a perfect gentleman. Probably coerced into marrying you by Charlotte, for his sake of health and safety of status. She truly wants what's best for Jem. And you're a good match for him!!! In this case, arranged marriage but you two fall in love.

Bane

Oh, to be the lover of Magnus Bane. You probably met him in the most absurd of ways, like a crazy meet cute in a rom com. He spoils you, buys you gifts to win your affection; doesn't accept it when you tell him no more gifts. He just wants love. You two probably elope and forget to tell people until a month or so after it's happened. Maybe even a year later. "By the way, we're having a one year anniversary party and you're invited, Tessa."

"???? What?"

"Oh, haha, yeah, we got married one year ago! So we would like, like, a Kuerig or something."

Kieran Kingson

Kieran just straight up asks you to be his mate one day. It's a strange moment. it's the middle of breakfast, you're exhausted, and Julian won't stop bitching about the iPod you supposedly stole and then lost, when really you just borrowed it and broke it during patrol. Kieran comes in, sits down; he says his good mornings to the family. Then, "Oh, by the way Y/n. I'd like you to come out with me for dinner tonight."

The clatter of the morning stops as everyone pauses and waits to hear your response. He'd apologize in private but extend the invitation a second time. He wouldn't have an issue saying he's attracted to you and even has a crush. He's nice about it, and not at all awkward. You, however, are very awkward.

Blackthorn

Mark Blackthorn adores you. He approaches you in private. He's super dramatic about it, too. You thought he was going to tell you someone was dying. But no, he just thinks you are, in his words, "glowing with beauty". Okay dude. Just kiss me already. You would be the couple that's always making out or going at it. He cannot keep his hands off you.

Julian Blackthorn is the opposite. While he adores you just as much, he's calm and doesn't feel the need to go full throttle into marriage, like his brother would be. Julian wants to have one normal experience in his life. He wants to have a movie worthy relationship, with stolen kisses and first dates and awkward hand holding. He feels so comfortable with you.

[gayfanservice]

Matsukawa Issei x MALE Reader

Fluff or something

*********

“(Y/N)! Come here, please! We have some visitors!” The head of a child (no more than 9 years of age) peaked down at the woman standing at the bottom of the staircase, before she left to talk to the guests. “He’s a little shy, but I’m sure you two will be great friends.” Ms. Mei, as you call her(you’ve only lived with her for a month or so, calling her anything else just feels weird), said. You peaked your head from the stairs, another woman with a child beside her. He looked around your age, maybe a little older, he definitely has more of an older child's heights, maybe 10? 11? You didn’t know. Ages were weird, especially adult ages. Thinking they know everything just because they were here longer than you, not fair!

Ms. Mei was talking to the women while the child was just looking around. His eyes landed on you, only making eye contact for a second before you ducked back into the stairwell, hoping you were fast enough that maybe, just maybe, he thought he was going crazy and would leave. Maybe he’d think the house was haunted and will never come back. Maybe his parents would put him in one of those white hospital rooms you’d see in those movies. Maybe he’d grow up, break out of the hospital and try to find you for making him crazy. ‘Oh no! I’m going to get murdered by a crazy person!’ You quietly sulked the stairs, thinking of all different types of scenarios.

You decided you wanted to live a long life, after building up the courage you peaked out again, “(Y/N)?” Ms. Mei was looking at you, but so were the other two. Quickly looking away from Ms. Mei, no longer having the confidence now that two complete strangers know you’re here, you sat back down on the stairs with your arms crossed over your knees. ‘Well at least he knows he’s not crazy.’, you thought. Ms. Mei popped up in front of you, “Hey, I know you don’t like meeting people, but it’s only them. And! He’s your age! Now why don’t we go out there and say hi? I’ve known Matsuki for years now, she won't hurt you.”

It’s not the women you’re scared of (okay, maybe a little. But she’s so tall! Who wouldn’t be?!), but that kid looked like he would tear you apart the moment you’re alone! You did not want to. “Okay…” Ms. Mei smiled at you and got up, holding out her hand for you. You stared at it for a bit before getting up and grabbing a hold of her. Ms. Mei walked over to the living room(when did they move from the door?) with you behind her, begging whatever higher being there was to swallow you up so you didn’t have to meet new people. Meeting new people was always the worst. Why couldn’t we just meet and automatically be best friends?

Going through the effort of a stranger slowly, way too slowly (did I mention slowly already?), was tiring. Ms. Mei stopped, promptly running into her before slowly looking in front of her from behind her pant leg(which was in a death grip, might I add! Who knew 9 year olds had death grips?). “(Y/N), this is Matsukawa Matsuki, my friend. I’ve known her since college.” Matsuki stood up from the couch and crouched in front of you and Ms. Mei, “Hi there,” she said softly, putting her hand out for you to shake. You stared at it for a couple seconds, hands clutching Ms. Mei’s pants tighter, not going to reach for it. Matsuki saw how you weren’t making any movement and put her hand back down.

“I’m so happy to finally meet you! This is Issei,” she gestured to the boy still on the couch. He’s been looking at you this entire time. Right now, he’s the bane of your existence. ‘He’s going to kill me!’ you internally cried. You’ve been looking at Matsuki’s forehead before staring at her hand. Now you’re just staring at the floor. “Can you say ‘Hi’, (Y/N)?” Ms. Mei asked. You made eye contact with Matsuki for a split second before looking back at the floor, “Hi…” Ms. Mei smiled down at you before looking at Issei, “(Y/N), why don’t you take Issei up to your room and show him all your cool toys?” Perking up (Matsuki could swear she saw you switch personalities), you ran to the stairs, half way up before stopping and walking back down,

“Okay.” Ms. Mei chuckled a little while Matsuki ushered Issei up and off the couch, “Have fun you two!” Matsuki called up, Issei already halfway up the stairs while you were almost in your room. Opening your bedroom door, you let Issei in before walking in yourself, closing the door. Your room wasn’t anything special, your bed was messy (“Why do i need to fix it if I’m just going to mess it up again?”), a couple clothes were near the laundry basket, too lazy to pick it up (“I’ll do it later.”), a dresser off the the side, and, of course, your ‘cool’ toys, which were on top the desk opposite to your bed. The toys consisted of plastic dinosaurs and a couple dragons. They were the hallowed out plastic ones, you can squish them.

“What’s that?” Issei pointed to the orange Pterodactyl, “A Pterodactyl. They fly.” God, you really do sound dead. “That?”, pointing to another. But this wasn’t an ordinary dinosaur, it was a Mosasaurus. One of your favorite dinosaurs. “That’s uh… Mosa….sasourus.”, you couldn’t remember how to pronounce the name, but you were pretty darn proud of (probably) saying it right. “A mosasasourus?”, Oh no, he’s questioning you. “Uh, yes…? I don’t know how to say the name.” You admitted, looking down at the toy. It wasn’t the hollow-y plastic like the others, it was just plastic, but the mouth opens! You remember when you saw it in the store you did not stop staring at it. Hoping that it’ll magically be yours if you stare at it enough.

Well, it did sort of work. Ms. Mei saw you staring at it and asked if you wanted it. You shyly said yes, and when she finally bought it you ripped the tag off and immediately started running around on the way home, pretending to make it swim and chase the smaller, unfortunate fish that dared cross the great Mosa! It was the 3rd week you’ve been with Ms. Mei, it’s also been one of your best memories with her so far. Beside the sea dinosaur was a Raptor, it was green, and the eyes were so poorly placed that they weren’t even close to where they were supposed to be. But it still looked cool to you. There was a two headed dragon figurine that was black and red, a stubby, brown rock dragon, and a pale pink dragon.

Issei was looking at them for a couple more minutes before looking around the room. You only looked at him when he wasn’t looking at you, making eye contact was just way too uncomfortable. Especially with a stranger. A little lost in your head, you started swinging your legs over the bed, only stopping when you heard Issei speak, “You play anything?”, you paused. You weren’t that athletic, never really having a chance to do anything at your old home, and even if you did, you were too scared to join in on anything. You never know what fellow children would do. They could make fun of you, bully you, make up rumors, maybe even mess with your clothes. Children are menacing. You liked video games, though.

You had a PS1, though it was downstairs, and you were told to show Issei your room. “I don’t really play sports.” Issei continued to look around, “Why?” You shrugged, “I’m scared,” Issei stopped looking around and turned to you, ‘No, look away.’ you thought, ‘Stop looking at me.’ “Of…?”, You blinked. “The other kids.” Issei tilted his head a little before walking to the window, “There’s a park around the corner,” he said, “we could go there and play something.” You thought for a moment. You really didn’t want to leave the house, especially since you still didn’t know the area that well. That, and people. “We could…” You trailed off. The park did have swings, and Ms. Mei could push you pretty high.

That thought alone made you jump off the bed, startling Issei, and dashing out the door, “MS. MEEIIIII!!!”

——————

The walk down to the park was pleasant, Mrs. Matsukawa and Issei went back to their house, which was right beside yours (How’d I never see them before?’) to grab their coats, Issei grabbed a volleyball too. You had no idea how to play volleyball. Ms. Mei and Mrs. Matsukawa sat on a bench while you and Issei went off. After trying (and failing) to explain how volleyball works, Issei showed you how to position yourself. After a while (it was really only five minutes but it felt like forever), Issei tossed the volleyball over to you. Panicking, you put your hands together in a fist and closed your eyes. The ball hit your chest, surprising you, and knocking you down with an audible screechy “OW!”

Issei ran over in a panic, “Are you okay? Do you need help?” Poor Issei was panicking at the thought of ruining a friendship he barely started. You laid on the ground, tears in your eyes, staring at the sky. Ms. Mei and Mrs. Matsukawa, hearing Issei’s panicking yells, rushed over. Ms. Mei crouched down in front of you, “(Y/N)! Are you okay?” She helped you up into a sitting position, “(Y/N) what happened? Are you hurt? Where?” You stared at her for a couple of seconds before you processed the noise you made, and started giggling. “I’m fine!” Ms. Mei (and Issei) visibly relaxed. Sure the tears were still there from the pain, but you thought you sounded like a pterodactyl.

“What happened?” She asked again, this time more lively and less ‘ARE YOU DYING?!’ while wiping the tears off your face, your giggling died down but your smile was still there. “We were playing and I fell,” Ms. Mei helped you up, “But I’m fine now! I want to do it again!”, you exclaimed, wanting to play more of this ‘volleyball game’ you and Issei had. “(Y/N), it’s not a good idea to keep falling,” Ms. Mei said, “Not that!” Mrs. Matsukawa laughed, Ms. Mei joining in while they walked back to the bench. You ran to the volleyball and picked it up, running back to where Issei was.

It was hard to tell what he was thinking when he always had a relaxed face, it scared you a little, “You still want to play with me, right?” You quietly asked. Issei stared at you for a moment before a small grin broke out on his face, “Of course, just try to keep your eyes open!” With a smile returning, you quickly nodded.

*********

*wipes sweat off brow* pheEW (also I did pull Matsuki out of my ass since there is no canon name for his parents(or if he even has any))

Read the rules before you follow me

[soulmate-game]

Not related to the other two Bio!mom Harley AUs that I did. Just... similar. I wrote this instead of sleeping, as per the usual.

—*—*—*—*—*

“I need your help.”

No accent, no threats of violence, no beating around the bush (figurative or otherwise). No fighting or unconscious bodies.

Just Harley Quinn with her hair down, no makeup, and completely serious, in the center of the Bat Cave. Even though her usual exaggerated Brooklynn accent (circa 1950s) had become a pretty inseparable part of her personality over the years, every now and then she forcibly stuffed it down and used her mostly unaccented voice. The one reminiscent of days with less colors on her face, a high bun, and a pristine white lab coat.

Every single one of the Bats and Birds present, fresh from an interrupted patrol thanks to her, could count the number of times they had seen Harley like this on one hand. Bruce would have the most recollections, but everyone else would have plenty of fingers left on said hand. So they all knew, especially when Bruce willingly pulled down his cowl so he could look Harley in the eye, that this was the start of something they were not likely to forget. And maybe their chances of survival were slim too.

“Harley,” Bruce’s voice was still gruff, seeing as he was still mostly Batman at the moment, but his eyes were soft. “Maybe you should tell us what you need help with first. And sit down. You look exhausted.”

Sure enough, there were dark circles under Harley’s eyes. She let Bruce-man lead her over to one of their debriefing tables and sit her down. She let out a huge sigh, her fingers tangling in her loose blond locks.

“I have a confession, and it isn’t gonna leave this cave, capiche?” The slight return of her accent relieved a little of the tension, but not much. Taking this as their cue, the rest of the bats spread out into their usual seats at the table. Bruce stayed near Harley, keeping a hand on her shoulder in silent support. Harley didn’t continue talking until he gave her a solemn nod in agreement. She gulped— an action that immediately returned the tension.

“... fifteen years ago, back when I was still with Joker, I disappeared off the Gotham scene for a few months. I’m sure a few of you remember,” she looked up, and a couple of the older vigilantes nodded. Really, Jason has still been Robin back then. But the memory stuck out in his head now that he was thinking about it.

“Yeah, you were breaking away from him a little bit, which was weird at the time,” Red Hood mused aloud, arms crossed. “I think you helped us out a couple times and did some of your first team ups with Ivy before you vanished. Then a few months go by and you were back in action with Joker, so we mostly ignored it as you just being you.”

Harley nodded. “Ah, my Ivy’s a lifesaver, even back then. She helped cover up the timeline by keeping me in action for longer than I should’a been without putting me at too much risk.”

“Timeline…” Red Robin spoke up, eyes huge even behind his mask. “You don’t mean—“

“Harley,” Bruce breathed, having also caught on. “You were pregnant?”

The air went still. Harley sniffed, eyes watering even as she smiled.

“Oh yeah. Shouldn’t have been possible, ya know? Me ‘n Joker being dumped in that damn acid should have made us both more sterile than an operatin’ room. But I knew I couldn’t raise a kid, so after she was born—“

“You kept her?” Damian interrupted, earning a gentle cuff over the head from Dick. Harley just snorted.

“Yeah. Not gonna lie, I thought about abortion. But the baby didn’t do nothin’ wrong, and I was still in love with Joker back then so I was ecstatic that I was able to make something new with part ‘a him in it. Still, I knew a baby didn’t deserve to be raised in Gotham. Especially not my baby, not with my enemies and history. Not with who her father was. I knew he’d never want her, never let me keep her. So I spent the last five months of my pregnancy lookin’ around for the best possible family to take her in. And I found them in Paris, France. A sweet couple, both of them bakers. Sabine, she’s both adorably sweet and super kickass. Comes from a Chinese family that is crazy about teachin’ their women martial arts. But nothing shady about it, I triple checked. Just bonding through kicking people in the face. Which is perfect, I wanted my baby to know how to defend herself. I knew she’d need those skills eventually. And Tom, that’s Sabine’s wife, he’s a gentle giant. Same size as Bane, but as harmless as a puppy and makes the best croissants ever. Seriously, the best.”

“Harley,” Bruce gently prodded, but there was a tiny grin on his face. Seeing her behaving so… so normally, so proud and reminiscent, was a rare treat. Bruce would be lying if he said he wasn’t proud of how far the woman had come. How she had freed herself and become a better person, mostly on her own.

“Right, right. The point,” Harley took a breath, rubbing her forehead. “I came clean to Tom and Sabine, but apparently they knew who I was the whole time. They just didn’t care— did I mention they are perfect? Anyway, once I explained everything, they agreed immediately to adopting my baby. They’d been wanting kids, but it would’a been too risky for Sabine’s health. That’s how I found them anyway, they were in the market to adopt. We named her Marinette. She took Tom and Sabine’s last names, hyphenated. We decided Quinn would be her middle name. And after that, I came back to Gotham and told myself that she was in good hands and I needed to forget about her. Cuz I was no good for her. I knew that. I went back to my old tricks. And then…” Harley chuckled, but it was self-depreciating.

“Then a few years passed, and I started breaking away from Joker for real. Then we broke up, I blew up Ace Chemicals while you guys were outta town doing Justice League and Young Justice shit. I started dating Ivy. And—“ she smiled softly at the table, clearly seeing something the rest of them couldn’t. “Then Ivy convinced me to go see her. Visit my baby, see how she’s been. And I did. Marinette was seven years old, but damn it to hell she was gorgeous. And say whatever you want about me and Joker— most of it will even be true— but neither of us are stupid. And she inherited all of our intelligence. All of it. She got my blue eyes. But she got his hair, which meant Sabine teased me relentlessly about ‘are you sure she isn’t that Wayne’s kid?’ And don’t make that face Bruce, you’d be lucky to have a kid half as beautiful as my Mari-pie. No offense, Damian. Anyway. Anyway, this is the important part. Or part of it.

“She sat there and listened to everything I had to say. Everything. A little seven year old, who could barely understand English at the time, and she listened without interrupting once. She never threw a fit, she wasn’t angry or confused. I told her about the things I’d done in the past— well, G rated versions— and she didn’t care. She called me Momma Harley right away, said she wanted to meet Aunt Ivy sometime soon, and started telling me everything about her that I’d missed. From that day on, she became my sunshine. The light of my life, and I still call her at least once a week every week. When I disappear for a few days out of the city? I’m visiting her—“

“You’re banned from international travel, Harley,” Dick scolded, but he sounded way too amused for it to work. He knew she had her ways, anyway. Nobody could actually stop Harley damn Quinn from doing whatever she wanted.

“—Ugh, she tells me the same thing every time! Disappointed glare and everything. I don’t know how I gave birth to such a goodie goodie, but somehow I did. Not important though! The important thing is, I’m always the first to hear when something new happens in her life. And we had decided that she wouldn’t visit me in Gotham until she was at least eighteen, but apparently she disobeyed me— which I should have expected honestly— and entered you guys’ WE international scholastic competition.”

“Oh no,” Bruce pinched the bridge of her nose. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng? The contest winner?” He finally pulled out a chair and sat down. “The winner gets an all-expense paid trip to Gotham for them and their whole class.”

“Exactly!” Harley threw up her hands. “Mari told me last week, and I’ve been trying to talk her out of coming ever since. But she’s inherited both of our stubbornness too, and she isn’t budgin’ a bit. ‘Momma Harley, I wanna see you and Auntie Ivy though!’ And ‘Momma, Gotham’s nothing I can’t handle,’ or my favorite, ‘Maybe you’ll finally get to see me dropkick someone three times my size then, and I’ll prove it.’”

“So that’s what you meant by you need our help,” Tim said as he leaned forward over the table. “Joker just broke out of Arkham yesterday. You want us to protect her.”

“I’d prefer if one of you was with her outside of the mask too, as often as possible,” Harley confirmed. “I can’t stop her from coming here anymore, but I also don’t trust Joker for a second. As soon as he sees her, I’m afraid he’ll make the connection.”

“She looks like him?” Damian asked, scrunching up his nose at the ugly mental image of Joker as a teenage girl. Harley shook her head, solemn.

“She looks like a dark-haired mini-me,” she corrected. “She even keeps her hair in pigtails as her way of showing support for me. And I know Marinette can kick ass, Sabine’s trained her well. But Marinette inherited more than I’d like from me,” Harley ran a hand through her hair. “I didn’t notice it until she was thirteen. She got a crush on a classmate, and it was almost like watching videos of me back during the early days of— well, of Harley Quinn. Just without the crime and insanity. She didn’t even realize that she was almost stalking the poor kid until I pointed it out, and luckily I was able to put my doctorate to good use and we nipped that right in the bud ASAP. She never meant it that way, anyway. As soon as I explained things to her, she was horrified and immediately asked me to help her learn how to have a healthy relationship. That was a fun discussion,” Harley grimaced. “But she still gets attached to people really, really easily. Once she grew out of her crush on that boy, she adopted him as her unofficial brother. She already calls Selina “Auntie,” even though I’ve barely mentioned her to Marinette. She gets attached fast, and deeply. And I’m afraid that even after all the warning I’ve done, all the stories I’ve told her—“

“You’re afraid she’ll get attached to Joker just like you did,” Bruce finished for her, closing his eyes. “Because she knows he’s her father.”

“Yes,” Tears were slowly dripping down her face already, her hands curled into fists so tightly that her knuckles were paper white. “You know how he is. If he finds out she’s his biological daughter, he’ll immediately try to take advantage of that. And he’s far too good with his words for people like me and Mari. I’m worried outta my mind. Please. Help keep my baby safe from him.”

“We will,” Jason no longer had his helmet on, or the domino mask that he usually wore underneath it. All of them knew masks were merely formality with Harley nowadays. And he needed to look her directly in the eye so she could see how serious he was. “I can sign up as a bodyguard for the class. It won’t be weird, seeing as they’re tourists and this is Gotham. They also have several rich kids in their group if I remember right.”

Bruce nodded, agreeing with Jason. “That’s a good idea. I can lead the class on their tours of WE personally. That’ll serve the purpose of keeping an eye on her and shutting up the investors that keep begging me to make more public appearances for the sake of the company. Marinette’s name is already released to the news as the winner of the contest, so we can’t keep her out of the spotlight long. Tim, you’ll have to keep an eye on any and all pictures of the class. Try to erase or doctor the images with her in it well enough that connections between her and Harley can’t be easily made. Dick, you and Damian will be in charge of keeping an eye out for any activity from Joker. The slightest hint, and you notify all of us. We’ll decide on a case-by-case basis who is necessary to stick with the class and who goes after the clown.”

“She’s gonna sneak out of her hotel to stay with me and Ivy,” Harley admitted, bringing the (now slightly judgemental) attention back to her. She raised her hands up in surrender. “She didn’t tell me that, and I didn’t approve or suggest it! I just know my baby too well to not realize that that’s her plan. Could ya provide an escort?”

Bruce sighed. “This is gonna be an eventful month.”

[helliontherapscallion]

Why Couldn’t it Have Been Me?

Part 2

Paring: Wilbur Soot x reader (past), Ghostbur x reader

Disclaimer: This contains major spoilers for Tommyinnit’s 4/29 lore stream

Warnings: swearing, violence, death, near death, cheating, 4/29 lore stream, grief, blood, injury, panic attack

Word count: 6,737

(A/N): So in this, you’re Schlatt’s twin and Puffy’s your older sister. Also, sorry for any mistakes, I typed a good 2/3 of this on my phone

This was your own personal hell: being trapped within cement walls with your ex fiance, your asshole of a brother, and a Dream wannabe that seemed to never lose any energy. Your life was like a trope in a novel alive you would’ve liked, however being cursed to live in it made you absolutely loathe any and all mention of it. 

Alive you would’ve killed to hang out with your brother again, not the one that turned to the bottle. Alive you would’ve craved the sweet melodies that streamed from Wilbur’s mouth. You would’ve swooned and maybe, just maybe, you would’ve forgiven him. Alive you would’ve perhaps liked this ‘Mexican Dream’ guy, you would’ve perhaps become the best of friends. 

However you despised the three locked up with you with your whole heart. 

Your ex fiance was someone you adored. Hell, you even idolized him when you were alive. The Wilbur you knew was sweet, loving, attentive, and just all around someone that you swooned over. You could still remember how your heart exploded when he first asked you out under the setting sun by the ocean. You remembered every song he's written for you, every word and rhythm by heart, even after all these years. 

You remembered how you felt your heart completely shatter when you found the songs he had in his drafts for someone that wasn't you. Someone by the name of 'Sally'. After a heated argument you had broken up with him, taking the engagement ring off from your finger and throwing it deep into the ocean. You stayed on L'Manberg's side even after all that, too loyal and proud towards the country you helped forge to drop it. You wouldn't let some stupid boy or rabid tyrants prevent you from raising your beautiful nation up from the ashes.

That had been your downfall. You should've listened to Puffy and left the country behind when you had the chance, now you paid the ultimate price for your deep rooted loyalty and devotion towards independence. And your sacrifice didn't even matter in the end! Your deranged ex blew it all to smithereens. If you didn't despise him before, you absolutely did after your dumbass twin told you about his little 'escapades' while you were gone.

Every little thing Wilbur did, no matter how small it was, made you hate him even more. Every time he would shuffle those damned cards, it made you want to rip them to shreds and throw them across the train tracks. Every time he would sing or even breathe, you wanted to strangle him. You were absolutely certain that Schlatt felt the same. 

Oh, your twin was a real card. Always boasting about how his horns were bigger than yours (who even cares anymore? Yours grew in first anyways), telling the others about your shortcomings through crude jokes, even going as far as fighting you through headbutting; you could still feel the pain of being beaten to death before respawning immediately. Schlatt hadn’t known that you respawn even in the afterlife, so you knew he was serious about killing you. You just wanted Puffy, she was far more tolerable than your twin. 

The rustling of his suit jacket and his small grunts and pants resonated within the walls as he did various forms of exercising. You now knew about all of the differing variations of a pushup and you hated yourself for listening to his explanations. He would beg you, Mexican Dream, and Wilbur to stand on his back while he did his endless routines. The only one to readily take him up on that offer was Mexican Dream.

That man was arguably the only one you slightly tolerated, and you said that very lightly. He was still annoying as all hell, but he was a new face. Well, one that you didn’t know well enough to have a grudge against while you were alive. It was slightly refreshing, in a sense. When he first got here, his songs, stories, and humor gave you a nice break away from Wilbur’s depressing songs and Schlatt’s crude jokes. However when you spend eleven years trapped in a cage with one person, everything they do becomes the bane of your existence. 

You were running out of things that kept you sane in this dump. You've read the same novel, counted the same ceiling and floor tiles (32 ceiling tiles and 57 floor tiles exactly), traced the same cracks in the walls, temporarily killing the same cellmates, you've done anything and everything that this cesspool had to offer. You've done everything billions of times over, a never ending cycle of monotony. 

Tommy joining your group of miserable has-beens was perhaps the highlight of your fifteen, almost sixteen, years spent in this shithole. Though he finally dropped the brave facade and showed just how broken down he was after everything he’s been through, having him around was the saving grace to your sanity. He told you how your sister was, how your nephews were, and most importantly what you missed. You knew about all of the events leading up to Mexican Dream's death, but you were left in the dark with everything past that. Ender, you missed so much since you died; It baffled you how much you missed. 

When the train actually stopped at your cell instead of just passing by and it's doors opened, you were just expecting another poor soul to be dropped off here. You could imagine everybody's surprise when none other than Dream stepped out of those doors. The nephew that had betrayed you without a second thought, that had murdered you, that had your severed head displayed on his mantle (you weren't sure the truth of that last statement, Tommy has a habit of over exaggerating. Though, Schlatt did say that your body was found with a missing head when you first forced him to tell you what you missed). Tommy talked to you about how he died only once, so you knew just what your nephew has been up to. It infuriated you knowing that your adult nephew was manipulating and abusing this young teenager.

While you were releasing your pent up frustrations on the masked man, he merely brushed past you and drug Tommy into the train by the arm. You could remember Wilbur banging on the doors begging for Dream to return his little brother and his angered screams echoing down the railways as the train sped off back towards the land of the living. 

Lucky Tommy, he got to live out the rest of his life and actually age. You and your crew of intolerable jesters were stuck together once again. 

Everybody was silent for a few months, reeling at the newly discovered fact that Dream could actually resurrect people. During those three months, they were quiet and tolerable. In a way, the talks that came out of it was like one of those family therapy sessions your older sister would hold in the living room (you remembered how she would grab you and Schlatt by the horns if either one of you refused to go). You would kill to attend one of those therapy sessions again, and this is the closest you were going to get to it. 

You all talked about the things you regretted most while you were alive. Mexican Dream's was that he didn't protect his girlfriend Mamacita well enough. Schlatt's was choosing alcohol and power over his family (tears were especially shed over Tubbo, he really did regret abandoning him to be raised by you). Yours was that you were too loyal to a cause that would be absolutely decimated a short while after you sacrificed everything for it. Surprisingly, Wilbur's was that he had hurt you.

He had begged and groveled for forgiveness, telling you that he just didn't feel that special connection with you anymore. That didn't take away from the fact that he was seeing another while you two were still dating and that he blew up your life's work. He had stolen everything from you, and you would never forgive him for that. 

After you made your thoughts on him completely clear, he had started treating you like you treated him in the last few months. Tension was building up between you two that had laid dormant for thirteen and a half years like a rope pulled taut about to snap.

Everybody had slowly returned to their annoying selves slowly but surely. Schlatt resumed his workout routine, Mexican Dream had started loudly singing and ranting about Mamacita's everlasting beauty again, and Wilbur eventually started up his solitaire and songwriting once again.

The three of them made you want to rip off your twisting horns and shove them in your ears in hopes of muffling them, but you knew that whomever put you here would restore your hearing and make your horns regrow. You knew that first hand after you spent a couple of years alone in this hellhole; breaking your horns off by repeatedly banging your head against the dull stone walls in a manic state was never fun. The regeneration of the keratin only slightly stung, it was like you were a kid and they were growing in for the first time again. 

You felt your eye twitch as Wilbur sang about that damned train for the umpteenth time since he arrived. It’s always ‘train this' and ‘train that' and quite frankly you were sick of it. You were sick of him. 

“Shut the fuck up about that damned train,” Schlatt seethed. You never once thought you would ever agree with your twin, but here you were nodding in agreement and shooting a glare at Wilbur’s direction. The brunet merely stopped his singing and reshuffled his cards, the sound making an ugly cacophony and grating at your ears. 

“Not my fault you two don’t want to talk to me. I’m just making due with what I’ve been given.” He dealt the cards out in piles and started yet another game of solitaire. Seriously, how many games of solitaire can one play before they lose it? You supposed that you’d find out soon, Wilbur has been playing that monotonous card game nonstop for thirteen and a half years.

“Yeah, let the hombre chill! I like his music.” The masked man reached up to stroke his goatee, the scratching sound further penetrating your focus on your book. 

Everything was quiet before Mexican Dream's voice pierced it, "hey, did I ever tell you guys how beautiful my Mamacita was?"

"You told us millions of times, fuckface. You narrate entire love letters daily, so how could we not know how 'beautiful' she was?" You complained, not once looking up from your book. Schlatt snorted to himself and returned to his workout. Mexican Dream crossed his arms in anger, cursing you out under his breath. Wilbur merely glanced at you and rolled his eyes. "You know, I'm tired of your bitchy attitude. Let him talk about Mamacita, it's not his fault every time you think you love someone it fails." 

Your grip on your book tightened impossibly. If it were physically possible, the book would be crumbling to dust in your voice grip. You practically see red as you slowly dog-eared the worn page you were on and put your book down. 

"Oh shit," you heard Schlatt mumble and move away from you, Mexican Dream following suit. When you both were alive, your anger was always something you knew Schlatt feared. However, you knew that he's never seen you this angry; nobody has. The majority of what you've been holding in for almost fourteen years is about to be unleashed. 

"You know what I'm sick of, Wilbur?"

"Oh, do enlighten us."

"I'm sick of each and every single one of you. You three have been absolutely intolerable ever since you arrived. I was doing just fine alone and the universe just had to fuck everything up for me, just like it always does."

"There you go again," Wilbur laughed sardonically, "making everything about yourself." He gathered his cards and shuffled them repeatedly. 

"I make everything about myself?! Do you even hear yourself? Mr. Oh-I'm-such-a-disappointment-to-Philza, you wallow in self pity twenty-four seven! You fucking write every single song about yourself!”

"I didn't want to come here, okay?! I didn't think it was gonna be like this! God, I might as well be in hell with you here." 

"Believe me, my hell started fourteen years ago when you guys started showing up," you growled out, your ears flattening to the sides of your skull.

"Have you ever stopped to think that you're our hell? All you've done since we came here was complain and be a massive douche to all of us." He fluttered through the deck more and more as the argument escalated, the noise making you want to scream until you tasted blood.

"I'm the one that's in the wrong here? You fucked up my entire life. He," you pointed at Schlatt, "keeps beating me to death. And he," you jutted your chin towards Mexican Dream, "never shuts the hell up… Would you stop with that damn deck?! You're literally so fucking annoying." 

He narrowed his eyes, "make me."

A mixture of an animalistic growl and a guttural scream left your lips as you charged at him, your head tilted downwards so he could feel the brunt of your horns. He moved out of the way just in time, the side of your horn brushing against his arm. You crashed head first into the stone wall before you stabilized yourself and looked at the brunet with seething hatred. 

He was staring at you in shock, "how're you-" You used his shock to your advantage, throwing a right hook at his face. His head whipped to the side and his body followed, sending him to the ground in a heap.

"How am I still conscious? I'm a ram hybrid, dumbass. What'd you expect?" You huffed angrily before you pried the cards out of his hand and stalked over to the tracks. 

He scrambled up to stop you, but before he could even reach you, you held the deck over the tracks and looked down at him. You could just imagine how your horizontal pupils were blazing with fury. 

You reveled in the betrayal and animosity gleaming in his eyes as you dangled the thing he held dearest in this hell over the railroads. If you were to drop them, he'd never be able to see them again.

"We promised not to touch belongings on our first day here!" He yelled at you, his hands wrung in front of him nervously hiding the slight tremor. "Our first day here?" You scoffed, "the last time I checked, I was here for two years before any of you showed up." You gestured around the room in one angry swipe, the cards slipping slightly with how sweaty your hands were. It was then that you saw the fear in Schlatt's eyes. Good, that bastard should be scared of you. "If anything, you all are in my domain."

Wilbur flinched at the sight of the cards slowly slipping out of your hand, his breath hitching and panic stricken across his features. Mexican Dream stood up from his place and put his hands up. He was slowly approaching you like you were a cornered wild animal, making sure that you saw his every move. 

He nervously chuckled, "let's just put the cards down and have a nice talk. Doesn't that sound better than this, mi amigo?"

You shook the cards once again, taking in Wilbur's silent anguish with glee. "I'm not your friend, I'm anything but. Don't tell me what to fucking do or else that picture of Mamacita is the next to go."

"...Okay, you're in charge, man. Do what you want." He reluctantly sat back down next to Schlatt. The ram was watching in fear, yet it looked like he was entertained with what was happening. You couldn't blame him, the last interesting thing that happened was three full months ago when Tommy was taken. That and you probably looked feral at the moment.

"You understand that if you drop those, they're lost forever right?"

You threw your head back and laughed, "of course I know, why do you think I only have one sock? I already tried that shit out before you came." You hummed to yourself in thought, then grinned. Wilbur was going to love this.

While you shuffled the deck, you kept a close eye on the movement happening inside the cell. Another perk to being a ram hybrid was that you had a nearly 360 degree scope of everything around you. The only movement happening was the panicked breaths from Wilbur, good. You huffed in amusement, "alright Wilbur, let's do a card trick. I'd ask you to pick a card, any card, but I don't want to risk you fucking shit up again. So, I'm just going to draw for you." You drew a card from the middle of the deck and showed it to him. "The eight of clubs, how fitting." 

"(Y/n), I don't know what you're getting at, but if you don't give me those cards right now-"

"Shut it, I'm not done. I'm going to shuffle this back into the deck, watch the hands." You kept eye contact with him as you shuffled the cards rigorously, the card you pulled long since hidden with the slight of a hand. After a bit of shuffling and reshuffling, you had sneakily put the card between the two halves and bridged them until the cards were in one pile with the eight of clubs on top. 

You chuckled and pulled the top card, once again showing it to him. "Is this your card?"

He nodded slightly, never once taking his eyes off from the deck. "Yes, now give it back to me!" The angry and anxious undertones were like music to your ears.

You tapped your chin in thought, "hm, I don't think I will. You've taken so much from me, it's only fair that I get some revenge." Without another word, you threw the cards behind your head and smiled widely at the sound of the fluttering down to the tracks. 

Wilbur launched himself forward with a frantic yell, his hands flailing to catch all of the cards before they were lost forever. He only succeeded in catching a few. 

His breath shuddered as he stared at the three cards in his hand: the five of diamonds, the four of spades, and the seven of hearts. The fate of the universe was on your side for once, perhaps preternaturally so. 

"You- do you realize what you just did?!" He spun around to face you. If humans could froth at the mouth, a full waterfall would be streaming through his gritted teeth. His eyes held the rage of a man that had just lost everything in one singular instant, the resentment swirling in his dark brown orbs. Several veins were bulging in his face and neck, painting the skin in a red hue.

You walked over to your book and plopped yourself down. "Yeah," you said with a nonchalant shrug of your shoulders. You opened up your book and started reading it again, leaving the man to his grief. 

Everything was quiet once more much to your delight. Though you read this book from cover to cover thousands of times, enough to know most of the words by heart, you were never able to fully enjoy and immerse yourself in it with them around. You took this time to reclaim your designated corner and spend some quality time reading. 

You spent hours with your nose buried deep in your book, savoring the peace. That was until it was snatched out of your hands and ripped away from you. You looked up in slight shock at the sight of Wilbur snapping it shut and walking over to the tracks. 

No. No. Nononono he can’t. That was the only thing keeping you sane. He can't just get rid of it when he's done so much towards you when you were alive. 

A wail left your mouth as you tackled him to the ground, your arms wrapped around his midsection. He crashed to the ground with a grunt, his forehead smacking against the painted yellow stone. You straddled his back and ripped the book away from him, throwing it across the room and away from the tracks. 

You grabbed a fist full of his hair after yanking off his beanie and tossing it into oblivion with his precious cards. You pulled his head up and leaned close to his ear, "you try that shit again and your hat and cards won't be the only things lost to the void." Venom was seeping through your every word, "do you understand me?" 

He merely jerked his head to the side, colliding it with your nose and mouth. You shouted in surprise and let him go in favor of holding your aching nose. You could feel the warmth of the blood pouring from it. Through teary eyes, you looked up at Wilbur as he grabbed your book and flung it against the wall of the opposite side of the tracks. You scampered to the edge and watched in horror as it disappeared into the void. 

Without warning, you were forced to the ground, a hand holding you by a horn and a knee between your shoulder blades. You struggled before a dark chuckle was heard, "if you keep moving, you'll slip! Do you really want that?" You begrudgingly stopped, realizing that he had all the power in this situation. If he wanted to, he could just slide you off from the platform and toss you away like throwing a piece of paper into the trash.

"Good, you're not as stupid as you were earlier today." He slid you forward, holding your upper body over the tracks by the horn. You came face to face with the swirling abyss that was the void, small shapes appearing from your eyes adjusting to the sudden lack of visual stimulant. Your breathing picked up as he lowered you slightly, "you don't wanna do this." 

"No, I do. Thirteen and a half years of having to be around you was hell, but the shit you pulled today just put the icing on the cake. Do you have any last words before you go?"

You grunted as he shook your head slightly, a slight pain coming from the base of your horn. "Fuck you." 

"How appropriate, now let's see if you'll come back this time. It'll be our fun little science experiment!"

He dropped your horn without a care in the world, sending you plummeting to your demise. A terrified scream ripped it's way out of your throat and you screwed your eyes tightly shut in preparation for the void. Your body came to a jerking halt as you held your breath, preparing for… whatever awaited you. However, nothing came.

You cracked open an eye only to be met with the uncanny inkyness, the invisible mist freezing your face and its frostbitten arms opened wide for you. But you never fell into its embrace. 

Instead, you were pulled back onto the platform. You laid on your stomach with your horn supporting your head staring at the wall, tracing every single nook and cranny of the bricks. Your chest heaved as you greedily gasped for air. You never thought you'd be so relieved to see the cement walls you've been trapped in for over a decade and a half.

You were once again pulled up into a now sitting position and leaned against the wall, your back touching the cool cement. Across from you, you saw Mexican Dream pinning a struggling Wilbur down to the floor. Wilbur's crazed eyes met you, piercing through your very being. However, that didn't affect you in the slightest; you almost were just wiped from existence completely, you stared into the abyss and it stared back at you.

You felt… strange, to say the least. While icy fear and adrenaline coursed through your veins, you felt warmth blossoming in you at the same time. It was like the void was an actual person, politely giving you some form of relief from the hell you've been subjected to for over a decade and a half. It was so welcoming, not terrifying like you initially thought it was. When your fingertips grazed its surface it felt freezing to the touch, yet you felt the staticky power it was showing you. In that split moment of touching it, you had already accepted the power it held over you. 

A hand softly slapped your cheek, "c'mon, (y/n). Talk to me." Your eyes drifted lazily to your twin. He was extremely pale, his eyes frantically searching your face for any sign of responsiveness. When you looked at him, he visibly relaxed. "It was so… so beautiful, Schlatt."

"Yeah, what the actual fuck did you just say? You almost just- just died for good dumbass." He looked at you incredulously, you could just see the cogs in his brain working hard to process what the hell he was seeing. 

You looked back at Wilbur, he had stopped struggling slightly and was instead looking at you with a hint of confusion shining through the crazed daze. Mexican Dream tilted his head, the mask skewing slightly to the side of his face. "Thank you, Wilbur. You've shown me that there's… there's more to this hellhole than suffering. There's beauty in the darkness." His struggling had come to a complete halt, now staring at you with the most confusion you've ever seen from him. You also saw a very small hint of fear from deep within his irises.

A calloused hand gripped your chin and forced you to look back at your twin. "What are you on," he hissed lowly, "the stuff that's comin outta your mouth right now is actually batshit insane. He almost just permanently murked you and you're fucking thanking him." 

"I haven't felt this at ease in nearly two decades. I feel ethereal, Schlatt, and it's all thanks to him." You let your eyes drift over to Wilbur. Giving him a content smile, you nodded your thanks at him.

The next few days went by tensely for the others, eyeing your every move and keeping you away from the ledge. You had only peered over the ledge once since then, it was just so alluring to you. It was nothing, yet everything at the same time. Mexican Dream had pulled you back to the opposite end of the room by your horns. The part that disturbed the three men was that you said absolutely nothing about it. You didn't even struggle against it, you just laid limp and let it happen. 

With each passing second you spent away from the void, the feeling of utter peace was rapidly draining from your body; instead being replaced by icy fear, paranoia, and the realization that you were almost completely swallowed whole by the void. 

After coming back to your senses, you didn't allow anybody near you. Your instincts going haywire and screaming that they were going to hurt you if they came close. The last time Schlatt tried touching you, you damn near took his finger off. They didn't bother trying to approach you anymore, instead glancing at you from the corners of their eyes. Wilbur was perhaps the one you feared the most, you knew that if he didn't hesitate to toss you away the first time, he would surely do it a second time. He spent most of his time staring at you, you didn't know if he was zoned out or not.

Everybody was against you, you knew it. You just knew it. They were plotting to toss you back into the void. That thing- or was it an entity? Whatever it was held a power over you that you didn't know was possible. That trance that it put you in, the craving you felt, was something that was repeating like a broken record in your mind. You could still feel the void calling out to you, it was terrifying. 

You spent most of the time huddled in your corner staring at the fingers that had grazed the textured nothingness. You could still feel the buzzing and popping of the power on your fingertips, that inky residue staining your skin wouldn't come off. No matter how hard you scrubbed, scratched, or scraped, it would not leave your body. It was freezing.

The oncoming train screeching to a gradual stop was perhaps the only thing you fully acknowledged outside of your safety bubble in days. You watched in shock as it stopped at the platform. The doors opened with a fwoosh, fog pouring out onto the smooth stone floors. 

Out stepped Dream, the smile etched into his cracked mask sent chills to your core. Next to him was… was another Wilbur? How in the name of Ender was that even possible? 

This Wilbur was different though. This one was desaturated. This one didn't have an insane glint in his eyes, this one had grief shimmering in the tears that steamed on his cheeks. This one was broken compared to the well established man against the wall. This one was defenseless. 

Dream shoved him to the center of the room, the man falling to his hands and knees. Sobs escaped his mouth as steam left his skin and drifted along the sides of his face before dissolving into the air. 

"Got a new plaything for you guys, this one isn't as… fun as Wilbur is though." Dream's head turned towards you before it tilted. "What happened there? Did our dear little (y/n) get too close to the void?" 

"They are none of your concern, pandejo," Mexican Dream seethed at his counterpart from his position next to the train. "Why are you even here, man?"

"Oh, I'm just here to make a trade. I'm afraid that I'll have to give you guys Ghostbur here in exchange for Wilbur."

Wilbur stared at him with pure hope and glee springing up in his eye for the first time in over a decade. "Really?" 

Dream chuckled, "yes, really. What, do you really think I'd lie to you?" 

"I don't know, ya smiley freak. You've been known to fuck people over." Schlatt scoffed, his ear flicking in annoyance. 

"I'm telling the truth this time. Wilbur, come with me." 

Stars shone in his eyes as he reveled in the sight of the open train doors. He followed the masked man with a skip in his step, ecstatic giggles leaving his mouth as he boarded. 

Anger flooded you as you purse your lips together and you darted towards the train. The doors were closing already, if you could just- 

The door shut with a clank, blocking you from freedom. Your clenched fists banged against the window, glowering at the sight of Wilbur's happiness and Dream looking at you with a wave.

"You fucking bastard! Take me, he doesn't deserve it! He threw his goddamned life away, you're wasting your time with him!" Your angry shouts were ignored by the two however as the train once again started moving with a small hiss. 

A frustrated scream left your mouth as you pummeled the iron with your fists as it moved. If only you could find a train car to jump onto- 

Now. You leapt from the platform towards the junction between two of the train cars. However, your leap of faith was set to a halt midair by Schlatt holding your upper arms. You thrashed against him, desperate to get back to the land of the living, desperate to leave this godforsaken hell called the afterlife, but once again, you were torn away from what you were trying to achieve. 

You fell limp as you watched the last train car pass the platform and disappear down the tracks and into the void. The next possible time it would show it’s face would be in a few months if you were lucky. You let him take you back to your corner, your feet limply being drug against the floor. After you were plopped back down, you stared at the clone of your ex. You were pretty sure Dream said that his name was ‘Ghostbur’. What a strange name, yet you supposed that it was fitting for Wilbur’s apparition. 

“Are ya done with your little ‘moment’, (y/n)?” Schlatt was kneeling in front of you, his hands prepared to grab you if you made a run for it. Though his tone was annoyed, you could detect the very small worried undertone of his voice. 

You nodded and watched as he took a seat next to you, also staring at the newcomer. This is the closest he’s sat next to you in years. 

“...What do you think of the clone over there?” You hummed to yourself, “he looks pathetic, but I think that might be the only thing he and Wilbur share.” 

Mexican Dream took a seat next to you, slinging an arm over your shoulders. Normally, you would’ve shrugged him off, but you were too emotionally drained to do so. “Si, he does look kinda weak. But I think our new hombre here has promise.” 

“Promise for what?” Schlatt snorted. Mexican Dream hesitated, “...I don’t know. This is gonna be interesting, mis amigos.” 

“The party’s just begun, boys. Buckle up, this is gonna be a wild fucking ride.” You mused to them, unsure of what the future would hold with the newcomer. Though after a couple of years, you were sure you were going to hate him; that is if he’s nothing like his clone. Ender help you if he’s anything like Wilbur. 

As you stared at the broken man, you couldn’t help but wonder: why did he get to go back? As far as you were concerned, psychopaths like him do not deserve a second chance at life. If anything, it should be you boarding that train. It should be you getting a second chance. He was the one that so readily threw his life away while you had yours ripped away from you.

One continuous thought was circling in your mind: why couldn’t it have been me?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You wrung your hands together as you anxiously waited for Tommy, Ghostbur, and Friend outside of Pandora’s Vault. Ranboo and Tubbo sat next to you in the grass, giving you silent comfort with their presence. You were mainly worried for your boyfriend, his worst fear was Dream using the resurrection book on him. You had calmed him down from a panic attack prior to meeting up with the teenagers, begging him to let you go in his place. Of course, Ghostbur being the caring and brave soul he was, wove you off and ensured that he’d be okay. 

When you saw someone emerging from the portal, you leapt to your feet and steadied your head on your shoulders before you examined the people emerging. Except you only saw a human and a sheep, no ghost. 

Tommy looked pale and on the verge of tears as he led Friend towards you. Before he spoke, he used his sleeve to wipe at his tears. 

“Hey, Tommy! How did it- where’s Ghostbur?” The enderman hybrid stretched his usually slouched back to peer at the portal, keen eyes searching for any sign of movement. 

“I think he’s dead… He’s dead!” 

Tubbo tilted his head and looked up at the blond in confusion, “well, yeah. He’s a ghost. Of course he’s dead.” Ranboo nodded in agreement, “yeah, he can’t die again. That just isn’t possible.”

You said nothing (not like you could in the first place, your head wasn’t connected to your body), looking into Tommy’s eyes inquisitively. They were chock full of panic, grief, and fear, staring down at the lead in his clenched hands. 

“No, no you don’t understand, it’s not that he’s dead… it’s that Wilbur’s back.”

“Hold on, the Wilbur that blew up L’Manberg? That Wilbur?” Ranboo peered down at him incredulously. “Yes! C’mon, he- we gotta get to L’Manberg.” 

He spun around and led Friend towards L’Manberg, walking quickly with a purpose. You, Ranboo, and Tubbo followed. You hugged your head close to your chest, your eyes peeking over your arms. It was always something you’ve done whenever you were scared or worried about something. You heard stories about Wilbur from your nephew, if the stories of his insanity terrified you, you’d hate to see the man in person. 

“I was about to kill Dream, and- and Ghostbur died. Dream revived Wilbur… Fuck!” Tommy walked faster, L’Manberg far off in the distance. With one hand, you grabbed the blond’s attention and finger spelled, ‘are you serious? He’s actually gone?’

“Yes! How many times do I have to explain this?! Ghostbur isn’t with us anymore and Wilbur’s back. Wilbur’s back and we’re absolutely fucked.” He turned on his heel and resumed his beeline towards the crater in the wall. No, he couldn’t be gone. This was just a cruel prank they were pulling on you, right? 

Tubbo put a comforting hand on your shoulder, giving you a small sympathetic smile. You leaned into his touch slightly and carried on, stepping into the makeshift staircase behind Tommy. 

You moved your arms to cover your eyes as you stepped aside to make room for the other two teenagers. You heard a voice; it sounded exactly like Ghostbur’s voice, yet it sounded... off. You however remained hopeful and uncovered your eyes. 

The man that stood there certainly wasn’t your boyfriend. Everything about him was just so wrong. The emotion in his eyes, his clothing, his smile, his stance, his hair, everything. This was a completely different person. This was Wilbur Soot. 

“Hello again.” His eyes flicked around your group, his gaze lingering on you for longer than the rest. You noticed that he was staring at your neck, but that was okay. You were used to it; everybody did that. What you weren’t used to was the revulsion that flashed in his eyes. The eyes that once lovingly stared at you and reassured you that he’d love you even with your… condition were now filled with disgust. 

That was what broke you, the tears that you tried to hold in came streaming out like a waterfall. Stinging pain hit you as the water worked its way through the cloth of your uniform onto your arms, leaving steam floating upwards towards the cave ceiling. You phased through Ranboo’s body and made a mad dash towards your sister’s house. You needed her, you could feel a panic attack brewing inside you. Usually you would hate to be a bother to your older sister and Ghostbur would always calm you down, but now he’s…

You pushed that thought aside and focused completely on getting to Puffy’s house in the distance. You phased through the door without a thought to knock, frantically beginning your search for Puffy. 

You looked everywhere, but you couldn’t find her. Unable to cope any longer, you fell to your knees in the middle of the living room and hugged your head to your chest, your face being pushed against your uniform. Your shoulders shook with silent painful sobs, the only sound in the room being the sizzling of your skin. 

Why couldn’t it have been you? It should be Ghostbur standing there in that cavern, not Wilbur. This was completely your fault, you should’ve gone instead of him. You should’ve volunteered quicker than he did, you shouldn’t have let him talk you into it with his soothing words. Now because of your complete and utter cowardice, he was stuck in the afterlife once again. You were never going to see him any time soon. Your other half was ripped away from you because of your inaction. 

Between sobs, your lips repeatedly formed the same phrase: why couldn’t it have been me?

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[bakugohoex]

- 𝐌𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎 𝐀𝐂𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐌𝐈𝐀 𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

◤ currently write for

most popular posts are in bold

↞ back to masterlists 

⤷𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟏𝐀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐊𝐈 𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐄𝐈𝐉𝐈𝐑𝐎 𝐊𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐌𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you could never last no nut november” | 1k event (0.9k) ↠ nsfw

in which bakugo bets kirishima he could never last no nut november, but in the last hour of november he finds you in bed all pretty and he just has to have you, even if he does lose the stupid bet

“i’d do anything for you” | 1k event (1.9k) ↠ fluff

in which kirishima helps you throughout the day and you finally ask him why he’s always so nice to you, gaining a response you’d never had expected

☆ headcanons ☆

“how do you expect me to not fucking love you, when you come in looking like that” | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which you have a cow quirk and in a relationship with kirishima

“if you win, i’ll take you out tonight” | requested (1.2k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re performing at the ua pageant and get a surprised visit from kirishima with a proposal in mind

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐓𝐀 𝐒𝐄𝐑𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐈𝐙𝐔𝐊𝐔 𝐌𝐈𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐘𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

➶ coming soon

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐊𝐀𝐓𝐒𝐔𝐊𝐈 𝐁𝐀𝐊𝐔𝐆𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“that’s literally the definition of jealous, you dumbass” | (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which bakugo finds y/n and todoroki getting closer than normal, the more he sees them together the more rage he builds up over someone who he thought was just an extra to him 

“when he put the what, in the where...” | (1.3k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re in a secret relationship with bakugo until one fateful night in the dorms 

“probably married to this dumbass” | (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo get interviewed on a talk show on what it’s like being pro hero, what turns into a simple where do you see yourself in five years leads to your relationship being announced on live tv 

“look bakugo you’re surrounded by extras” | (2.7k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo are both pro heros and it’s work studies, what bakugo thought would be a pain seemed to have the benefits as he saw you in a better light  

“they’re are what?” | (2.8k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo sneak out for a late night date and meet two kids, confused and lost, you take the kids back to the dorms trying to get help, the thing is they looked strangely familiar 

"you want to sleep on the floor”

part one | (3.4k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re neighbours with pro hero katsuki bakugo, one night your roommate and her boyfriend get a bit too loud, with no where else to turn you end up in the apartment of bakugo’s, sleeping beside him you both realise the hidden feelings between one another

part two | requested (5.4k) ↠ fluff and nsfw 

in which bakugo takes you on that date he promised you and leads your roommate to be the one to hear all the moans and screams

“what’s 6 inches long, 2 inches wide and makes everyone go crazy?” | requested (2.3k) ↠ nsfw

in which you and bakugo are studying together and after being interrupted by kirishima who tells you mina wants to study with you, you go out and help mina study but instantly get threatened by mina to go back, you realise you’ve got a long night ahead of you

“y/n just tell me the fucking truth for once” | requested (5.2k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you were raised by villains, by being saved by the heroes, the trust issues and lying you were brought upon reflects you now, bakugo grows ever more frustrated at your lying and all your truths come out

“you really think i wouldn’t recognise you” | requested (1.2k) ↠ fluff

in which you have a transformation quirk and whilst trying to find information from bakugo about his crush, he reveals his love for you but most importantly how easily he could see past your quirk

“really? you wanna have sex...here? now?” | impatient collab (2.1k) ↠ nsfw 

in which you arrive at a pro hero event and with bakugo unable to keep his eyes off of you, you end up doing a lot more than catching up and drinking with your friends 

“i hate your old friends” | (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which bakugo gets a visit from some old friends, making remarks about you and the other girls, a much more angrier bakugo realises that his past friends never grew up in the past months and he as sure as hell wasn’t letting some idiots talk about his girl in that way

“we’re you two...from the future” | (3.8k) ↠ fluff

in which you and bakugo sneak out intending to go see some stars but are met with the unlikliest of people, explaining their situation, you end up fighting alongside them, and realising just how far your relationship will go with the blond  

“i’m not sick, i always look like this” | requested (2.0k) ↠ fluff

in which your bakugo ends up getting sick, being the loving girlfriend you are you happily look after the angry boy who’s adamant he is not sick 

“becuase i’m fucking in love with you” | 1k event (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which bakugo watches you get too close with another man and can’t help but let his anger take over seeing you with anybody other him

“that blood, it’s not yours is it?” | 1k event (1.5k) ↠ angst

in which villian!bakugo comes to your apartment, confessing to his sins before finding himself surrounded by pro heroes after your call for help, with nowhere else to go, his only option to take you down with him

“good girl, spread your legs more, you want me to make you feel good?” | corruption collab (4.0k) ↠ nsfw

in which bakugo has always been infatuated with the pure guise you put on, when you come to his office late at night, how can he not resist the temptation of ruining something so sweet?

"you promised...” | (0.7k) ↠ angst

in which you see the first time you and bakugo fell in love

“you think that waiter could make you cum the way i do” | 1k event (2.0k) ↠ nsfw

in which after having a dinner date with bakugo, his irritation at how the waiter seems just a bit too close to you, he can’t help but take you right back to his car, ready to show you who’s really in charge

☆ headcanons ☆

“she’s doing what?” | requested (1.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re seen as the mom of class 1a, the boys got to spy on the girls sleepover and what they didn’t expect was you to confess your crush but also for you to have hidden talents that makes bakugo realise he needs to have you

“if you win, i’ll take you out tonight” | requested (1.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re performing at the ua pageant and get a surprised visit from bakugo with a proposal in mind 

“how am i supposed to protect everybody if i can’t even protect you” | requested (1.5k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you and bakugo are the ones to go against each other in the final of the sports festival and after you win, he makes it seem like he let you win, after confronting him he finally gives you what you wanted.

“you’ll never be a fucking hero if you keep acting like a dick to midoriya” | requested (1.4k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which after seeing bakugo continue his bullying with midoriya, you take it upon yourself to stick up for the boy and bakugo get’s a lot more than he expected, finally realising that his act cannot go on for any longer 

“you bought more, didn’t you” | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which your sweet tooth becomes the bane of bakugo’s life, finding out you house even more sweets in your pockets, his only way to finally get you stop seems to be a bit more different than his initial plan

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐎 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“your ability to remain silent really pisses me off” (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which you go to a haunted house with the class and get stuck partnered up with todoroki

“i thought you hated me” | (3.1k)  ↠ fluff

in which todoroki has a crush on you, and whilst trying to get closer to you his social awkwardness kicks in, making it harder and harder to not mess up whilst talking to you, but in the end he finally confesses after a whirlwind of a week

☆ headcanons ☆

“i want to talk about it now” | (1.0k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which at the sports festival, you finally talk to the boy in your class who seemed to always keep to himself, you both unveil your own trauma that you went through

⤷ 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒 𝟑𝐀

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐉𝐈𝐊𝐈 𝐓𝐀𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“if you ate pussy does th-” “y/n do no finish that sentence” (2.5k) ↠ fluff

in which you had been shot by a quirk that makes you say your thoughts aloud, the big three come to class 1a, you’re long time crush and friend tamaki gets made to answer questions and you stupidly raise your hand

⤷ 𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐒𝐓𝐔𝐃𝐄𝐍𝐓𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐇𝐈𝐓𝐎𝐒𝐇𝐈 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐒𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you guys did it where” | requested (2.1k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re in a secret relationship with shinso until at his party celebrating his first day in the hero course, he can’t keep his hands off of you

“why aren’t you scared of me?” | requested (4.0k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which shinso joins class 1a and whilst everybody seems to be scared of him out of fear he’ll use his quirk, you try to befriend the boy and he develops feelings as soon as you talk to him

“one more word out of you and i’ll leave you tied up with no release” | 1k event (1.2k) ↠ nsfw

in which after teasing shinso all day he can’t wait to get his revenge by overstimulating you until your crying, begging to cum

“i want you to have me...all of me” | corrupt a virgin collab (5.3k) ↠ nsfw 

in which shinso finally takes the next step with his sidekick after being unable to confess he finally works up the courage finding out your own secret as you both decide to take the next step in your newfound relationship

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐓𝐎 𝐌𝐎𝐍𝐎𝐌𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“who ruined you, go on, say my name” | 1k event (1.7k) ↠ nsfw

in which after an encounter with your ex boyfriend, monoma makes sure that everybody in the restaurant knows who you belong too

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐘𝐎 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐎 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“what else can vibrate?” | (2.8k) ↠ nsfw

in which you meet a pro hero who can vibrate and things get a lot personal 

⤷ 𝐏𝐑𝐎 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐎𝐄𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐒𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐓𝐀 𝐀𝐈𝐙𝐀𝐖𝐀 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“did he steal two babies?” | requested (3.0k) ↠ fluff

in which you’re aizawa’s secret wife, aizawa gets a call in the middle of class that you’re going into labor and eventually leaves, the class being noisy pricks follows him to a hospital, feeling worried they continue to follow until they see him holding two babies with a smile at his new family

“i’ll always support you” | requested (1.0k) ↠ platonic relationship and fluff

in which you confide in your teacher about your sexuality and he brings you the support your parents never gave you

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐊𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐎 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐀𝐌𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“you really have got nothing to do on a friday night” | (4.4k) ↠ fluff

in which your friend keigo invites you to a pro hero event as his plus one, the event leads to a lot more than you expected 

“you’re going to show the whole world who you belong too” | 1k event (1.0k) ↠nsfw

in which you find yourself in a hotel room after your dinner with keigo, pressed against the glass window for the whole world to see

☆ headcanons ☆

“where the fuck did you learn how to do that" | requested (1.1k) ↠ fluff

in which keigo hears you rapping in the shower and even though it was a shock he can’t help but to join you showering 

⤷ 𝐋𝐄𝐀𝐆𝐔𝐄 𝐎𝐅 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐈𝐀𝐍𝐒

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐃𝐀𝐁𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“i tried to move on, but nobody was you” | (1.4k) ↠ angst and fluff

in which you find yourself in front of the league of villains base as nobody could compare to how your ex made you feel

“we’re you” | (3.3k) ↠ fluff

in which you and dabi go out to get food and find yourself meeting some familiar faces with destruction arriving with them

“your boyfriend is going to kill us” | 1k event (2.2k) ↠ nsfw

in which dabi finds himself at your apartment seeing an upset you, how could he resist not comforting his girl even if your boyfriend arrives half way through

“you don’t remember me?” | 1k event (3.0k) ↠ angst

in which after losing your memory in what seemed to have been a week, the capture of shigaraki is the only thing on your mind but when you meet face to face with a distant memory, the reality of the torture the heroes inflicted on you finally comes to light

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:* 𝐓𝐎𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐀 𝐒𝐇𝐈𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐀𝐊𝐈 *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

☆ one shots ☆

“keep moaning, go on” | 1k event (2.0k) ↠ nsfw

in which after a loss to all might, all shigaraki needs is a relaxing bath with you which ends up turning into a lot more

[goldencuffs]

untraditional

@lamenweek day five: traditions

Damen doesn’t think he’s supposed to feel so bone-weary at thirty-one.

Everything in his body aches, and he’s already greying at his temples. Last night, he had gone to bed at eight.

Theomedes doesn’t look up from the Ios Financial Times when Damen enters the Drawing Room. The table already has been set: Damen’s seat is, as usual, is to the left of his father, exactly fourty-seven centimetres apart. Damen’s food has been already served, because his father got here before him, and everyone gets served the same time as Theomedes.

Damen’s entire life has been dictated by these traditions, guidelines and precedents.

Some of them are good, but most of them are like this: nonsensical and elitist.

Even Theomedes’ and Damianos’ tea is prepared via strict protocol: one teaspoon of loose tea leaves per cup, heated to a hundred degrees celcius (seventy for green tea), with a tablespoon of organic, raw honey added straight to the teapot.

(It’s amazing tea, though).

Theomedes says, “Your food is cold.”

Damen stares at the pile of mash potatoes and salmon. “I’m not hungry.”

He also hates salmon, but Theomedes is the only one who sets the menu for the week with the head chef. Last week, they had roast beef and vegetables four times.

“You’re not still sulking are you?” Theomedes finally says, three minutes later.

Damen grips his table fork. He forces himself to do the breathing exercises Makedon had taught him.

In an ideal world, he wouldn’t reply, but in this one, everyone answered to the King.

“No, sir,” Damen says, and shoves a polite bite of food in his mouth.

“You haven’t had a meal with me in three weeks,” Theomedes says, and he sounds hurt and disappointed.

“Hmm,” Damen says. “I’ve been busy. You know I’ve been working on the preservation of Marlas with Nikandros.”

Theomedes crosses his fork and knife over his plate. Instantly, three different staff members rush forward to clear the table.

Damen’s plate is cleared too; no one eats after the King has left. Another useless, bane tradition.

“You know I did what’s best for you,” Theomedes says, looming over Damen.

When Damen nods, Theomedes kisses his temple. “You’ll realise it sooner, rather than later.”

“Yes, sir,” Damen says quietly, and rises only after Theomedes has left, as is protocol.

*

An hour later, the itch under Damen’s skin becomes unbearable, and he finds himself burrowing under the left corner of his mattress for certain… supplies.

He pulls on the red, shoulder-length curly wig with little care, and then the faux-leather beret. It’s peeling and terrible, but Damen doesn’t care.

The rest of his outfit is just layers: sunglasses, two coats, scarves, and a muted shirt, to hide as much of his body as possible.

He normally doesn’t leave so early in the day, when he’s being patrolled by guards and the Kyros.

Luckily, it’s only Nikandros who catches him, right outside his door.

His expression is flat. “You’re not serious. You’re leaving now? We’re in the middle of drafting the Delpha treaty!”

Damen shrugs. “I have to go.”

“You don’t have to—” Nikandros cuts himself off with a sigh. “Whatever. Can you please bring me back those caramel slices?”

Damen grins. “You got it, boss.”

Once he’s past the Main Foyer, the rest of the journey is easy: Damen takes an hour and a half train ride from Central Ios to Andris, and then a fifteen minute bus ride on the eighty-six. And then finally, an eight minute walk to the Andris Office District.

There’s a small bookstore there called Pocket Bookmark, painted emerald green, the lettering done in gold.

Inside, it’s not too busy: it’s not quite the end of a business day, and the customers in here are high school students, skimming the Shakespeare section, and a man hovering near the new releases.

Damen keeps his head down, weaving through the aisles.

Nicaise, the mouthy teenage cashier rolls his eyes when he sees Damen approaching, lifting up the wooden flap on on the bench, allowing Damen to duck through.

“Thanks, kid,” Damen says, mussing his hair.

“Ah, fuck off,” Nicaise grunts, but fondly. He’s warmed up to Damen ever since Damen bought him his first car. (Nothing too flashy, obviously).

Damen hurries all the way to the back, opening the door marked, No entry, and then goes up the narrow steps, which always make the worst creaking noises.

There’s another door a the small porch upstairs, and Damen fishes out the key in his pocket to open it.

Instantly, he’s hit with the smell of butter chicken simmering on the stove, and his mouth salivates. He dumps his entire attire by the small settee in the hallway, inhaling gratefully.

The second thing he’s greeted with is Wendy, who meows and claws at his leg.

“Come here, baby,” Damen murmurs, picking her up and holding her to his chest. She purrs and curls up, like a big ball of fluff and he kisses her head. “I love you so much.”

She meows in response, and snuggles closer.

Laurent turns off the stove in the tiny kitchen. He looks over his shoulder for just a second and scrunches his nose. “Ugh, she’s such a slut. I’ve been petting her for the last hour, but apparently I’m just not good enough.”

Laurent is in his after work attire: which means he’s as half dressed as possible. The shirt he’s wearing is one of Damen’s, and his shorts are the pair that shrunk in the wash; they ride too high up his thigh.

Laurent’s just come out of the shower: the hair at his nape is still wet, and his skin is pinked and glowing. Even with the curry, Damen can smell jasmine and coconut.

Laurent has got this sweet, soft smile that lights up his eyes.

It takes Damen’s breath away: not just Laurent, but this entire picture of domesticity. It’s all Damen’s wanted his entire life.

He means to make a snarky comment about Wendy, but what comes out is: “Marry me.”

Laurent drops the wooden spoon, eyes wide.

Damen grips Wendy too tightly and she lets out a shriek and jumps out of his arms.

They stare at each other for a moment. Damen’s heart is racing.

Laurent blinks. “Oh, sorry. I think I hallucinated for a minute.”

Damen steps forward, smiling. “It wasn’t a hallucination. Marry me.”

Laurent makes a small noise in the back of his throat. “Are you asking me or telling me?” He swallows, eyes darting all over Damen’s face, his body. “I don’t see a ring,” he says quietly.

Damen groans, rubbing a hand over his face. “Shit, I know. I had this whole plan, I was going to propose with the Queen’s ring, but obviously I’d have to talk to my father first and—” He sits down at the kitchen table, pulling out his phone. “There’s a courthouse ten minutes from here. It’s Thursday night, so they’re still open. We just need to show up with a signed ‘Intended Marriage Certificate’. It’s like three pages, we’ll be fine.”

“…Oh.” Laurent has gone very still. “You’re looking up courthouses. You’re serious.”

“Shit,” Damen says, watching him. “I’m so sorry. You—Do you want to marry me, Laurent? Because I’ve been dying to marry you since I first saw you. Er. No pressure, though.”

Laurent glares at him, affronted. “Of course I want to marry you, you fucking idiot!”

Damen leaps to his feet, grinning and flushed. “Fuck yeah! Let’s go print this form and—”

“Damen!” Laurent laughs, looking a little crazed. “We can’t just—Just wait a minute.”

“Alright. Shoot, baby.”

Predictably, Laurent flushes pink. “Is it even legal? Aren’t there special ceremonies for royals? And—and the King still thinks we broke up!”

Damen winces a little at that.

After an entire year of sneaking around, of meeting up in discreet hotels, and making plans to move in together one day, Damen had fucked up three weeks ago.

Drunk and enamoured, he had kissed Laurent outside his bookstore after a date. There had been photos—and the only saving grace had been the fact that Laurent’s face had been inscrutable.

But the fact that he was a commoner had been enough for Theomedes to unleash his rage. He had ordered Damen to break things off with Laurent, and Damen had pretended to, but… Well, Laurent had been hurt. It had been the first time he had realised how shaky their entire relationship was, how quickly it could come crumbling down.

Damen had spent days convincing him otherwise, and Laurent had finally agreed, but there had still been shadows in his eyes.

Now—now, though, Damen realises exactly what he can do, what he should have done months ago, to make Laurent realise he’s it.

“Fuck the King,” Damen says. He finally closes the distance between them, gripping Laurent’s hands. “Laurent, listen. I can still get married legally in a civil ceremony.”

“But—” Laurent bites his lip. “I don’t want you to get into trouble. And,” His voice grows small. “I know there’s so many rules and traditions you have to follow. I’ve read about the whole tradition where your father is supposed to gift you a diptych piece.”

Damen’s heart is warm. He smiles down at Laurent, smitten. “You’ve read up on royal wedding traditions?”

Laurent colours even more. “Of course.”

Damen kisses him hard, unable to bare the love swelling up inside him. Laurent flings his arms around Damen’s neck, his mouth emitting small, sweet gasps.

When they pull apart, Damen presses his forehead to Laurent’s. “Fuck the King,” he repeats. “Fuck the customs and rules and traditions. You are the only thing that matters to me. Just forget everything for a moment and answer: do you want to go downtown and marry me?”

Laurent’s smile overtakes his face, his eyes shining. “Yes,” he says softly. “I want to—so much.”

“I’m sorry I didn’t ask you in a better way or give you a ring or—”

“Stop. This was absolutely perfect.” He sighs. “You’re perfect.”

Damen kisses him again, pressing him to the counter. “I want you to have my mother’s ring.”

Laurent buries his head into Damen’s chest, overwhelmed. He nods.

Damen drops a kiss to his hair. “Get changed, baby. We’re getting married.”

Laurent looks up at him in wonder. “We’re getting married.”

[ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes]

Darklina Fall Fest Day 3

Football/Sports AU | Back-to-School | College AU

Summary: Russian teacher Aleksander Morozov is the bane of his students’ existences. Art teacher Alina Starkova is beloved by her classes. A scheme is launched to get the two together to make their students’ lives a lot easier. 

         Summer was bleak. Alina hated the heat, hated the mosquitos, hated the sunburns. But most of all, she hated waiting two months to see Aleksander Morozov.

         A couple of weeks before school started, teachers went in to set up their classrooms and go over lesson plans with one another. But Alina never saw him during this time. Frankly, she couldn’t find a strong enough link from Studio Art to Russian. So, she usually didn’t see him until classes started up again.

         New freshmen rolled in and it was inevitable. Everyone had a crush on the Russian teacher. Until they realized what a hard grader he was then the affection faded.

         Alina’s class was always full with a waitlist. She was fun, light-hearted, and casual with her students. But she also inspired them to really become interested in art.

         The two seemed like opposites, but had gotten along well in the five years they’d known each other. Aleksander was already working at the high school for a couple of years when Alina came in. He offered to help show her around and from then on, she was head over heels.

         Being around teenagers all day made her a little susceptible to the corny, young adult romance cliches. But Alina really did value him as a person. He was tough on his kids, but in a way that encouraged their success. He was sweet, even if some students thought he was Satan incarnate for the amount of homework he assigned.

         Alina’s heart fluttered when she saw him in the teacher’s lounge. Apparently, she’d struck gold this year and some of their breaks coincided.

         He was taking notes on something on one of the couches. A mug of coffee was slowly cooling on the table in front of him.

         “Zdraste.” Alina greeted in Russian before sitting down next to him.

         He smiled. “Someone took up Duolingo this summer.”

         “Well…I tried.” She tilted her head to the side with a wince. “I had a two-week streak and then I went on a weekend trip with my friends and forgot. Now the little owl will not leave me alone.”

         He chuckled and took off his glasses. “Perhaps you’d do better with an actual teacher and not an incessant owl.”

         “Perhaps.” She echoed with a smirk. “Do you know any good teachers?”

         He just shook his head. “Apparently not. Last year, a senior on my teacher survey said that I was a ‘hard-ass who has never had fun once and needs to get laid’.”

         Alina snorted. The comment sounded so funny from his proper accent. “Oh no, I’m so sorry. That’s just…wow they really get ballsy when they’re anonymous and know that they’re on their way out, huh?”

         “It’s like they don’t remember that I’ve been staring at their handwriting all semester.”

         “Is that what the glasses are for?” She pointed to the simple black frame glasses that he hadn’t had the year prior. “Trying to figure out who’s bullying you in your surveys?”

         “Ha, no. No, these were a long time coming.” He admitted. “I just held off on them because I didn’t want my students to think I’m old. They think I’m cranky and tough on them but at least I still have some youth left.”

         “We’ll always seem old to them.” She pointed out.

         “We all can’t look forever twenty-five.”

         She whacked his arm. “For your information, I’ll be thirty in two years. And you’re not that much older than me.”

         “I’ve never told you how old I am.” His eyebrow quirked up.

         “No, but you told me when you graduated college. I did the math. So, in five years we should do something special for your fortieth.” She gave him a mischievous look as she stood up.

         “I’m not listening.” He watched her walk out of the lounge with a smile on his face. Yeah, it was good to be back.

 ~~~~~~~~~

         “Alina, can you tell Mr. Morozov to get a life?” One of Alina’s seniors pulled a dramatic pout.

         The art teacher couldn’t help but laugh softly. “He has a life. His life is the Russian language and he wants to make you all fluent.”

         “Who even uses Russian outside of high school?” Another one piped up from behind an easel.

         “You could find yourself stuck in a remote village in Russia and discover you’re the only person who speaks English.” Aleksander’s voice came from the doorway. They all jolted like he was a ghost. “And on your way to the embassy, you’ll be so thankful for all I’ve taught you.”

         The students who had been bemoaning his class went pale as a sheet. The senior sank back into her chair with a sheepish look.

         “Miss Starkova, could I see you for a minute?”

         “Sure.” She wiped her hands on her apron and walked out into the hallway with him. “Aleksander, you’re the only one in this school who calls me that. Even my students call me Alina.”

         “Yes.” He was raised with unbearably strict rules that you always respected your elders. Calling a teacher by her first name certainly wasn’t okay, according to his mother. But Alina could do what she pleased in her classroom. “I don’t mean to interrupt. I was just going to ask if you had gone to the National Ravkan Gallery recently?”

         “You’re asking an art teacher if she’s been to an art museum recently?” She teased.

         “Ah, yes.” His face reddened a little. “Well, I just wanted to recommend the Russian art exhibit that just started a few weeks ago. I thought you might like it.”

         His interest in her interests was possibly the hottest thing about him since his face. “Okay, I’ll check it out.”

         There was a faint smile playing on his lips. “That’s all I wanted to say. I won’t keep you from your class too long.”

         “See you later, Aleksander.” Alina returned to her class. She thought she looked inconspicuous but her students were eyeing her.

         One of her favorite students, Tanya, leaned forward with an intrigued look. “Alina…” She said in a sing-song voice. “What’s that smile about?”

         “Hey, concentrate on your still-life, Miss Tanya.”

         “Do you like Mr. Morozov? I didn’t think anyone liked him!” The senior girl was relentless. She knew that Alina rarely yelled or punished her students even when they pried into her life.

         “Mr. Morozov is a very nice man. Just because he gives a lot of homework doesn’t mean he’s unlikable.”

         Tanya gave her friend a look. She leaned over to whisper. “Maybe if they started dating Mr. Morozov wouldn’t be such a pain in the ass.”

         “Tanya, gossiping has no place in art!” Alina called from her desk.

         The girls giggled and went back to painting.

 ~~~~~~~~~~~~

         News spread like wildfire in the school. The theory was that if they could pair up the most serious teacher with the most fun, she would balance him out.

         “It’s a yin-yang situation.” Penelope, the junior class president, lectured at her lunch table. “Once everything is in balance, our lives become a lot easier.”

         “We can’t exactly force them together. They’re teachers, they would tell us to knock it off. Morozov would probably give us detention.” Her vice president, Samuel, added. “And I can’t have that on my record.”

         “Then we need to subtly suggest it to them. Like subliminal messaging. They won’t even notice what we’re doing.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

         Usually, when Aleksander entered his classroom, all his students went hush. They learned early on that he didn’t tolerate messing around. Frankly, most kids were scared of him. He had a constant expression of “fuck around and find out” on his face.

         But that day, he apparently had lost some of that energy.

         “Mr. Morozov?”

         “Yes, Penelope.” He got himself situated with his lesson plan and notes.

         “Are you married?”

         There were some teachers at the school who were okay with telling their students a bit about their personal lives. Alina basically put it all on display, she had no cares in the world. But Aleksander was the complete opposite. He even tried to make it so they didn’t know his first name until they got their report cards. Reasonably, a lack of a ring on his finger would be an answer enough. But Aleksander was the kind of teacher who, if he was married, wouldn’t wear a ring to class. He didn’t want his students asking about his relationship or potential wife.

         “I’m not.” He responded curtly.

         “So, you have a partner?”

         “That’s irrelevant.”

         “What’s your ideal date? Hypothetically speaking?”

         He looked up at her. A perplexed look mixed with his disgruntlement that his students were prying. “My advice, Miss Cooper, would be to focus less on your teacher’s ideal partners and more on your studies. Besides, if you’re going to get away with the hypothetical excuse, you need to be more subtle about it.” He turned to the whiteboard and began his lesson.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~ 

         “So, Alina, you agree that Mr. Morozov is the hottest teacher, right? I mean everyone in the school thinks that.”

         “Geez, Samuel, he’s a little old for all of you.” She giggled and shook her head. “But really, that’s inappropriate. You shouldn’t call any of your teachers hot.”

         “He’s around your age, right?”

         “About, yes.”

         The junior boy was staying after school with a couple others to help Alina set up for an art show in the school’s atrium. He was holding a box of tacks so the teacher could hang pieces up.

         “I don’t know, I was just talking to a couple of girls who thought he needed a girlfriend.”

         Alina laughed sometimes her students were just too funny. “Maybe, but that’s up to him to figure out. You can’t play matchmaker with your teacher.”

         But that was the goal.

~~~~~~~~~        

         “The children are scheming.” Zoya, one of the history teachers, reported one day.

         Alina was in the lounge pouring her third cup of coffee of the day. The rainy nature seemed to be making the teachers lethargic but the students were more wired. “They’re teenagers, Zo, I don’t think they appreciate being called children.”

         “I’ll stop calling them children when they stop drawing dicks on the desks.” She replied. “But they are scheming, Alina, did you not hear me?”

         “Scheming? I don’t know what you could possibly mean by that.” Alina poured in her creamer and could hardly wait for the coffee to cool down.

         “I heard them whispering around setting up you and Morozov,” Zoya replied bluntly.

         “Oh…yeah, they’ve been kind of weird about him, lately.” She admitted. “I hadn’t realized that’s what they were getting at.”

         “Thoughts?” Zoya leaned against the counter, watching her friend’s reaction to the news.

         “Well…”

         “No way.” Zoya could read Alina’s face like a book. “No way! You like him.”

         “Okay, now you’re the one who sounds like a child.”

         “Please, Alina, it’s clear. You’re into him. I mean I thought so earlier but I didn’t want to embarrass you.”

         “Well, thanks for sparing my feelings,” Alina mumbled into her coffee, practically burning her tongue in the process.

         “I could see that happening.” Zoya shrugged. “I mean you’re the only one he remotely tolerates.”

         “That’s not true.”

         “Is it?” Zoya smirked and walked away, always leaving with the last word.

~~~~~~~~~ 

         “Alina?”

         She jerked out of her thoughts. “Hm? Oh, Aleksander, I’m sorry. I was spacing out a little.”

         It was December and the campaign to get Alina and Mr. Morozov together was starting to become a bitter battle. Alina’s students were tasked with trying to hype up Mr. Morozov to her.  

         “Doesn’t Mr. Morozov look so good in black, Alina?”

         “Alina, did you know Mr. Morozov knows four languages?”

         “My older sister said that they found out he played football in university. Did you know that, Alina? Do you like football?”

         Aleksander’s students didn’t need to hype up Alina. She was already an open book and outgoing enough. Their goal was to pry as much tiny little tidbits of his life as they could to feed to Alina. It was tough work and Aleksander was starting to become frustrated with what he perceived as a lack of respect.

         “The next person who asks me a question about anything other than adverbs will go straight to the office.”

         But they just tried again the next day. All they had was his word. The man had no social media and such a small footprint on the internet.

         “Are you still copying?”

         Alina realized she was standing right in front of the copier in the faculty lounge. She’d been standing there long enough that her papers weren’t warm anymore. But she’d been a little scatter-brained. With all of her students constantly bringing up Aleksander, and the rest of the teachers being less than inconspicuous, she was seriously considering making a move.

         “Sorry.” She gathered her papers but paused. “Hang on, did you just call me Alina?”

         “That’s your name.”

         “Duh, but you never call me that.” She reminded him.

         He shrugged and lifted the top of the copier. “Would you prefer Miss Starkova?”

         “What gave you the change of heart?” She responded with her own question.

         Aleksander didn’t want her to know that his students had been talking his ear off about her. “I think you’ve asked me enough times to call you that. It’s about time I fulfilled your wishes.”

         Alina stepped back and watched him copy his paper. God, her students were right; the man looked damn good in black. “So, I was wondering if I could take you up on that offer for Russian lessons?”

         “Sure.” He nodded. There was no reason to ask why. He didn’t need to know the reason. All he knew is he could finally have an opportunity to impress her. With all his students going on and on about her, he realized he ought to take a shot in the dark. For years, he thought so highly of Alina. But he was so worried she would turn him down and things would become weird working in the same school. But things seemed to be going in the right direction and he was going to take advantage of that. “Would you want to come over to my place this weekend?”

         “Sure.” She smiled and glanced down at the papers in her hand. Truthfully, she was worried if she kept looking into his dark eyes she would burst into flames. “You have my number, so just text me when you want me to come over.”

~~~~~~~~~~ 

         Aleksander hadn’t been on a date in a couple of years. He tried a few times when his prospects for being with Alina felt grim. He figured if he could find someone else, then he wouldn’t stay so hung up on her. But none of the women he ever went out with could hold a candle to her.

         Now he was rusty when it came to dating. And it was just his luck that he’d break his dry spell with the woman of his dreams. At least she wasn’t a stranger to him. They knew each other well.          

         Still, Aleksander’s palms were sweating a little bit when he went to the front door to let her in.

         “Hi.” She greeted warmly. The cold December night made her cheeks red.  

         “Hi.” He smiled and felt his nerves calm. This still was the woman with who he had many lovely, down to Earth conversations. “Please, come in.” He offered to take her coat.

         She looked around his home and found it to be inviting. There were a few framed photographs in the entrance hallway. Most looked to be travel pictures. There was one toward the end of the hall, it was an older photograph of a couple standing in front of St. Basil’s Cathedral in the Red Square.

         “My parents.” He explained.

         “You look a lot like your father.” She remarked. “When did they come here from Russia?”

         “They didn’t. They still live there. I came here for university and stayed.” He walked to the living room with her.

         “Oh, I didn’t know you don’t have family here.” It made her a little guilty knowing he probably spent most of his holidays alone if he didn’t spend them with friends. If she’d known, she would’ve invited him over. She certainly would in the future, she was sure of that.

         He didn’t comment. “Are you hungry?”

         Alina caught a whiff of something savory from the kitchen. “I am now. That smells amazing.”

         Aleksander went into the kitchen to check on the chicken dish in the oven.

         She couldn’t believe what a warm and tidy place he kept. She didn’t expect him to be a slob, but she…well she wasn’t sure what she expected. “So, you just came up with the ruse about Russian lessons to get me to come over for dinner?” She teased.

         He chuckled as he returned from the kitchen. “You approached me. I think you had your own ruse.”

         “Oh?” She sat on the arm of the sofa.

         “I don’t think you intended on really learning Russian.” He moved a little closer to her.

         “You don’t know that.” She retorted. “I very well could have wanted to learn.”

         “Really?”

         She huffed out a sigh. “No. It was really hard, okay? Those two weeks of Duolingo were hell and it was only basic level stuff. I’m shit at learning languages.”

         “Well, if it makes you feel better, I was raised speaking it. It’s much harder to learn a language that’s not the dominant language of your country and when you’re an adult.” He pointed out comfortingly.

         “I know, I just wanted to impress you.”

         He smiled at her. “Well, for the record I’m trying to impress you with my cooking.”

         “I’ll be impressed when I taste it.”

         “After all these years I still underestimate your level of sass. I get less attitude from my students.”

         She just smirked. “I think it’s because I know you can’t give me detention. And if you tried, I would just give you detention right back. We’re constantly at a stalemate that way.”  

         It was nice being able to have a conversation without being interrupted by the normal school day. Plus, they weren’t being watched by their coworkers and students. They could just be themselves. “So, you just like to push my buttons.”

         “I like knowing that you like it.” She shrugged, not willing to apologize.

         He just chuckled. “Charming, Miss Starkova, charming as always.” He walked over to the liquor cabinet.

         “Oh, so we’re back to Miss Starkova?”

         “It fluctuates, depending on my mood.” He crouched down to find a good white wine.

         She chewed on her lip and decided this was the night she wanted to be honest. “Aleksander…I like you a lot.” She said softly.

         He walked back over with the wine and two glasses. “I like you a lot too. You’re witty and cheerful.” He handed her a glass and popped the cork. “Before you started working at the school, sometimes I would have these days where I didn’t even want to get out of bed. Facing the day seemed so daunting. But since you started there, I’ve never had a day like that. Even the possibility of passing you in the hall was enough to motivate me.” He poured the wine in her glass and then his own.

         She was radiant as she beamed at him. She tapped the rim of her glass against his and took a sip. “Remember when you got the flu last year?”

         “How could I forget?” It was a miserable time; Aleksander had never felt so awful. He was out of commission for at least a week.

         “That was the worst week of my professional career. I just wanted to leave my class and come take care of you.”

         He was certain that if she had been there to take care of him, the recovery wouldn’t have been so terrible. “I would’ve gotten you sick, though.”

         She just gave a one-shoulder shrug. “The things you do for…” She caught herself and found herself in an embarrassing panic. “Um…”

         “For love?”

         Her heart pounded in her chest. God, was he going to think she was a creep? It was their first date and she was talking about love. “I mean…”

         “It’s alright.” He reassured her. And that was that. They knew how each other felt, but in a way there was no need to put a word to it yet. They would have plenty of time for labels in the future.

~~~~~~~~

         “So, I didn’t know you spoke four languages.”

         “I don’t recall telling you that.”

         She smiled slightly between bites. “Some of our students have been…advertising you to me, so to speak. I don’t know if they were just making things up or if they were digging into your past.”

         “You know what they ought to do?” Aleksander set down his fork to make his point. “They should just wipe the internet of all information every ten years or so.”

         Alina giggled. “Why? People might find old pictures of you as captain of your football team?”

         “Christ.” He sighed and cursed out his university for letting images like that linger.  If he had the technological know-how and determination, he’d wipe out every existing picture of him from university. But since he failed at figuring out Twitter, he decided it wasn’t worth the energy.

         “To be fair, they were the ones who printed the pictures out, not me.” She was enjoying the way he was squirming. It was a little unfair to work with someone so attractive and calm and collected. Seeing him get a little hot under the collar made the last five years all worth it. “I bet you still look good in those shorts.”

         “Alina…”

         “So, four languages? Was that true too?”

         “Yes.” He allowed her to get away with the shorts remark, at least for the time being. “That’s true.”

         “Okay, Russian and English. I’m going to guess you also know…Italian and Japanese.” She came up with the languages on random.

         “I taught French when I was student-teaching and I picked up Polish from a neighbor. It’s close enough to Russian.”

         “Why would you want to keep that from people?” She asked softly. “Aleksander, you’re such an interesting person. I don’t know why you close yourself off so much from everyone.”

         Her big brown eyes and gentle nature disarmed him. Normally, he was so used to throwing up his barbed-wire fence any time someone tried to get close to him. It didn’t matter if it was a student, coworker, or stranger. The less people knew about him, the safer he felt. “I guess it just makes my life easier.”

         “Don’t you ever feel the need to confide in someone?”

         His eyes softened on her. “You’re probably the closest thing I’ve had to a confidante.”

         “Well, I’ll take on that role with pride.” She beamed. “As long as you keep making me dinners because this was amazing.” She glanced down at her clean plate.

         “Do you cook much?” Aleksander offered to pour her another glass of wine.

         Alina accepted, holding the glass up for him. “I’ve tried learning so many times. My friend Genya, who was my roommate at Ravkan U, every so often she’ll drag me down to the community center for some Italian or Thai cooking class. She does pretty well but I do terribly. I guess she’s more free form with everything, I heard cooking is about feeling and less about accurately measuring things which I fall victim to.” She took a sip of the wine and realized he was watching her with a faintly amused smirk. “What?”

         “You just told me like six things completely irrelevant to the question.”

         “I felt they were relevant.” She asserted with a confident smile. “Try as you might, Morozov, you’re not going to tighten the lid on me.”

         “Mhm, yet at the same time you’re trying to loosen my lid.”

         Alina burst out laughing. “Okay, that analogy might not work, but I appreciate you humoring me.”

         Aleksander felt so blessed to have heard her laugh so many times in one day. It felt like a rarity but he knew he would strive to make it a more frequent occurrence. “Can I ask why you’re so open with your students?”

         She shrugged and swirled the wine around in her glass. “I feel like when I’m open, I can control what they know. You might think I’m a loose cannon but I’m strategic.” She winked at him. “The less I try to keep secret from them, the less likely they’ll go looking for unanswered questions. I can tell them I played field hockey in university; they probably won’t go looking for pictures of me playing. You practically put a sign on your back that reads ‘try to uncover who I really am’. Teenagers are bored constantly and they love a challenge.”

         Aleksander hated that her logic checked out. He huffed. “I suppose. But I never had a problem until they got it in their heads that I should ask you out.”

         “True. But did they bring you any pictures of me from university?”

         “No.”

         “Then whose strategy worked best?”

         He just smiled and shook his head. “Yours.”

         “I rest my case.” She stood up and cleared the table.

         “I can do that.” He stood up quickly but she was much faster and brought most of the dishes to the sink. “Alina, honestly, I can clean up.”

         “I know.” She stopped him before he could get to the sink. “But not right now.” She grabbed onto his collar and led him back into the living room. Aleksander followed eagerly.

         After five years of pining after one another, it felt like they’d been together for a long time. Even if it was their first date, they had such a strong history. Soon enough, Alina found herself making out with Aleksander on the couch.

         After all the times she imagined being with him, she never imagined he’d be so damn good. But he kissed her like he was being shipped out for war the next day. The pent-up passion and adoration spilled out.

         As he was kissing her neck, she moaned softly, “Sasha…”

         “Someone was looking up nicknames for Aleksander.” He accused playfully.

         Alina’s mind was mush by that point. Her response was weak, “Someone was hiding how good of a kisser he was.”

         If he looked smug, she couldn’t see as he kissed her shoulder and collarbone.

         “Our students are going to have a field day when they find out.” She realized.

         “They don’t have to know, malyshka.”

         Alina had heard him speaking Russian sometimes when she passed by his classroom. It was hot to her then and he was saying phrases like “I want to go to the zoo” and “Is your mother a doctor”. But when he called her baby, she was putty in his hands.

         “You trust me to keep a secret?” She toyed.

         “I trust you entirely.” He murmured and brought his lips back to hers.

~~~~~~~~

         “Good morning. Hope you all had an enjoyable summer.” Aleksander walked into the first class of the year. It was his senior class, the same kids he’d had for four years.

         And instantly, some of them noticed something different about him.

         “Mr. Morozov…did you get married?” A girl in the front row exclaimed loudly. Those who hadn’t been paying attention all zeroed in on his left hand. There was confused chattering.

         “Yes, yes, alright.” He held up a hand to bring them down a couple of notches. “I did get married over the summer. There’s no need to make a big deal out of it.”

         “But…who? Were you dating someone this whole time? Did you lie to us!?”

         “Jamie, there’s no need to be dramatic.” He replied.

         “How could you do this? Alina really likes you!”

         “Well, I should hope so because she married me.”

         There were many audible ‘what!?’s across the room.

         Penelope, who had retained her seat as class president was struggling to find the words. “But-you-we didn’t even know you two were dating!”

         “There’s a subtle art to lying to your students.” He responded. “Since you were all so keen to meddle, I should be allowed to choose what I want to tell you all.”

         Suddenly, questions were being hurled at him. Far more questions than he’d ever been asked in one class.

         “Where did you get married?”

         “How long had you been dating before you got married?”

         “Are you going to have kids?”

         “Can we see pictures of the wedding?”

         Aleksander spoke over them. “There is only one person who is willing to tell you anything about my marriage and it won’t be me. If you want to talk about my wife, very well. We’ll do so in a way that relates to actual schoolwork.”

         They groaned.

         “Abby, if you are going to refer to Alina by her last name, which you all should anyway because it’s a sign of respect, how would you address her?”

         “Mrs. Morozova.” She answered. The girls around her all giggled with joy that their attempts had actually worked. And it had worked so well. No one expected to come into the new school year and find the two were already married. It already seemed to be working because he hadn’t threatened to send anyone to the office.

         “Good, why?”

         “Because Russian last names are gendered.”

         “Excellent.” He began passing out papers. “This is an assessment.”

         Another grumble echoed through the room.

         “It’s not graded. I’m not that heartless. It’s just to see how much you all remember from last year. Which I expect to be a good deal. I’m not wasting time reteaching concepts you all should know by now.”

~~~~~~~~

         Penelope stormed into the art room. “Alina, your husband is insane! He assigned us three chapters for this weekend!”

         Other students in the room who hadn’t heard the news all gasped.

         “Alina, you’re married to Mr. Morozov?”

         She smiled sheepishly. “Yes, we got married in July.”

         They all flocked to her desk like little ducks looking for bread crumbs.

         “It’s not that insane!” Alina fielded their questions. “We started dating in December.”

         “December? And you didn’t tell us?”

         “You know him, he likes his privacy and he’s entitled to it. But yes, December.”

         “So, you got married after eight months?” Samuel looked shocked.

         “I know it’s sudden. But…we’d been friends for so long. It felt like we’d been together for years, honestly. We moved in together in May. When we went on vacation in July, we just decided to get married. But none of you go elope until you’re much older.” She warned. “I don’t want to get calls from your parents.”

         “Can we see pictures?”

         “It’s not much to see…”

         “Please?” They begged.

         “I promised him not to…”

         “PLEASE?”

         Alina knew that she wouldn’t be getting anything done that day unless she caved in. “Alright, but you did not see this.” She took out her phone and pulled up the picture.

         Alina was in a white, strapless sundress. Aleksander wore jeans and a white button-down. They were married on the beach with just the official and witnesses. One of the witnesses took the photograph. Aleksander cradled her face in his hands as he kissed her so tenderly.

         The girls squealed and swooned.

         “So, he does have a heart.” Samuel joked.

         “He does.” Alina laughed and put her phone away before they demanded to see more pictures. “Alright, let’s get some work done.”

~~~~~~~~~ 

         “Hey, I want to thank you two.” Zoya strode into the lounge.

         Alina and Aleksander were sitting on the couch together, Aleksander’s arm loosely wrapped around her shoulders.

         “For what?” Alina looked over the back of the couch as Zoya went straight for the coffee.

         “For two things. One, for inviting me to your wedding. Oh wait, never mind about that one.”

         Aleksander looked amused. “Oh, don’t mention it.”

         Alina elbowed her husband. “What’s the second one, Zo?”

         “For distracting my kids!” She snapped. “All they can talk about is how you two got married. I couldn’t get two sentences in without them asking something else. How should I know if you two are going to have kids? Like do they think I break into your house and check your drawer for condoms?”

         “Christ, Zoya, we get it.” Aleksander asserted.

         “We didn’t think it would be such a big deal,” Alina admitted.

         “They spent about ten minutes of my class trying to figure out what your dating name would be like you two are damn celebrities.” Zoya rolled her eyes. “Little bastards didn’t get very far because your names both start so similarly.”

         “I don’t even want to know.” Aleksander decided and went back to his book.

         “Just please tell me they’ve been pestering you as much as they have the rest of us.”

         “Yes,” he said.

         “They’re excited.” Alina admonished them both. “They’ve been advocating for this for a while.”

         “So, how long is the victory party going to last?” Zoya sat down with her coffee.

         “Much longer if my wife keeps sharing photos of our wedding.”

         “Damn it!” Alina groaned. “I told them not to tell.”

         “They’re teenagers, they can’t keep secrets.”

         “Neither can my wife.”

         Zoya pulled a face at his response. “Okay, Morozov, you call her your wife one more time and I’m making you buy lunch for us.”

         Aleksander shut his book and looked up at the history teacher. “My wife would be upset if I dropped that much money on food.” He said deadpan.

         “That’s it. Lunch is on you tomorrow.” Zoya decided.

         “Buy your own lunch.” He stood up and kissed Alina’s hair.

         “You need to do something about your husband.”

         Alina just smiled. She didn’t want to take sides. But damn it if she didn’t love Aleksander calling her that over and over again. “Where do you want to get lunch from?”

         Zoya smiled. “That’s my girl.”

~~~~~~~~~

         Things died down and another school year ended and after a scorching hot summer, another began.

         Alina walked into the classroom and was met with shocked silence. “Yes, I’m pregnant.”

         The seniors who were sophomores when Alina and Aleksander began dating all screeched.

         “How far along are you?”

         “Is it a boy or a girl?”

         “Is it twins?”

         “What will you name them?”

         Alina quieted them down. “If you don’t make a big deal out of it the rest of the period, I’ll show you the ultrasound.”

 ~~~~~~~~~~~

         It worked but not for Aleksander’s class. By fourth period, everyone had seen Alina or heard the news.

         “Mr. Morozov, congratulations!”

         “Thank you, Sarah, that’s kind of you.” He replied politely. “Now, we’re going to pick up where we left off last year and talk about-”

         “How far along is she?”

         “Five months. Okay, reflexive verbs-”

         “I heard you were having a girl, are you having a girl?”

         He sighed. “If you want to ask a question, you have to ask in Russian. If any grammar or pronunciation is incorrect, I won’t answer.”

           ~~~~~~~~~~~~

         In January, Aleksander entered the classroom but didn’t put his things down. He seemed strangely flustered and move quickly. “I wanted to just leave these worksheets with you all. Your substitute will be here in just a moment.” He passed out the papers.

         “Why do we have a substitute?”

         “Because I need to leave for the day.”

         “Is Alina having the baby!?” Some super sleuth asked.

         Aleksander longed for the days when students were terrified to ask him personal questions. “Yes. Now, please be good for the substitute and don’t bother him about questions about me. Have a good day.”

         “Good luck, Mr. Morozov!”

          When Aleksander returned from paternity leave, the vultures descended. He didn’t even try. He entered the classroom, opened his bag, and pulled out a photograph. “His name is Emil, he’s perfectly healthy as is Alina. You have five minutes to discuss this then you have a test.”

                 His students all bemoaned the restriction. But it was the same old Mr. Morozov. Even though, when the class left, he sat behind his desk and picked up the photograph of his wife holding his son. He smiled.

[akaashisupremacy]

Brimming with Hope

Summary: Having broken off your engagement for an arranged marriage with Gojo, your relationship is in shreds. As you two give your relationship a second chance, what does hope look like to two disillusioned lovers?  

Gojo Satoru  x reader

Multi-fandom Masterlist || HQ Masterlist || Ao3 version

Genre: fluff, angst, exes to friends to lovers (wc: 1.5k)

“I don’t think they’ve fully made up their mind about me.” Gojo Satoru confesses to Nanami Kento.

In between assignments and his students, Gojo finds Nanami at Tokyo Jujutsu Tech’s grounds. They’re strolling along one of the many wooden hallways when Gojo opens up about you, his ex-fiancee and his current lover.

“What makes you say that?” Nanami rarely involved himself in other people’s romantic entanglements. Too much work really.

Gojo shrugs and sighs, “It’s like their affection is platonic. They care about me as a person, but I’m not sure if they have romantic feelings for me.”

The latest development of his relationship with you has been nothing short of daunting. Your relationship, albeit not exclusive was running past the six month mark. The longer he stayed around you the more pressure he felt. Commitment is not his thing. Dating his ex is also not his thing. But you certainly are.

“Can you blame them?” Nanami snorts, “How does it feel to be at the other end of the uncertainty?”

Gojo scowls in silence, hands pressed deep into his pocket.

“Well if they’re going out with you and stuff, then that’s not platonic.” Nanami offers. “Just make sure you’re not just fucking around again. Some people deserve better, Gojo. Leave them alone if you can’t get your shit together.”

Gojo stops walking. Nanami’s words are harsh and cold, voicing Gojo’s ultimate fear about himself.

Gojo opens his mouth and closes it shut. Nanami raises a brow. He senses some hesitation.

“Everything we do feels more intimate. I’ve been with other people, but this feels so…so….deep.” he murmurs.

Nanami turns around and snorts, “It’s the feelings. You’ve caught feelings.”

“This relationship feels so temporary...just when I feel like I’ve settled in, I’m to be up on my toes knowing this isn’t going to last. I realized they eventually want a family, but not with me. Because that’s just not me. It feels like there’s a time bomb waiting to go off.” Gojo continues, his tone silent and mournful.

More than anyone, Gojo knows you deep desire to be married and have a quiet family life. It's something he doesn't want and it pains him to know that you'll eventually go your separate ways.

Nanami breathes out, waiting for Gojo to catch up with a few long strides, “You can’t have everything.”

“I don’t need everything. Just the things that count.” Gojo replies, walking by Nanami’s side.

“Then you have to look for a happy middle, for you and for them.” Nanami shrugs.

Gojo scratches his head. What can he do?

————————————————————————————— You walk out of the morgue to leave Ieri to her work. As you step out, you come face to face with Nanami, who looks surprised that you’re here.

“Didn’t expect you to be around Ieri’s lair.” he comments.

“I didn’t expect to have a casualty either.” you shrug, waving around a file.

You hardly ever see Nanami after graduating. The school grounds were big. Your schedules never line up. Neither of you were particularly close.

He silently looks around if Ieri is behind you.

“So you and Gojo…” he trails.

You roll your eyes and cross your arms, “Not you too! You know what, instead of asking me, you should ask Gojo and his commitment issues, for updates.”

Your voice rings louder on the empty walls than you intended.

“I did.” he replies.

“And?”

“Commitment issues with a capital “C” indeed.” Nanami states, as if the fact was self-evident. What’s new? You sniff.

“It’s unusual to see him so conflicted about you. You used to be his rock.” he adds.

Your eyes narrow, as if asking for more information. You were never really sure how Gojo felt about you when you two were younger. He seemed attracted during your brief arranged engagement, but his attention obviously flitted elsewhere after that.

Nanami relents, “When we were freshmen, you reminded him of home. He pretends not to be homesick all the time. He’s not very good at hiding it when he talks about you.”

“Well, that feeling didn’t last, did it?” you murmur just loud enough for Nanami to hear.

The outside of the morgue has always been a little dark. You wished the lights were dimmer because you know Nanami is observing you.

“Not to defend him, but he was so wrapped in you and your engagement that he needed to find who he was outside of that. He likes attention, too. Can’t deny that. But his affections were sincere for a time.” he says, “I don’t know where his feelings stand right now. This isn’t to give you false hope, but he can be in love, even though it’s against his greater instincts and experience.”

He bows briefly to excuse himself. He needs to head in.

“But you already know that deep down. Out of all of us, you know him the longest, and I would argue, the best.” he adds.

You're left outside stunned by his words. Out of all his surviving friends, you assumed it was Nanami who knew him better than everyone else. It was you. You knew him best, even when Gojo wasn't by your side.

You smile a bit. There are some bonds broken romances can't break.

———————————————————— On a train home from your assignment, you find the bullet train crowded as usual. Rush hour is the bane of your existence in Tokyo.

As you try to find an empty seat, you’re surprised to find Gojo opening some sort of regional snack (again).

“How is it that you have so much time for souvenir shopping?” you groan in comment.

“It’s nice to see you, too.” he offers the seat next to his.

You plop down beside him, distracted. You think back to what Nanami said earlier. What was it that Nanami said? That you were Gojo’s rock? What did that mean really?

He tries to offer you some food. You wave him off dismissively. After gathering your thoughts, you decisively turn to him.

“I just want to know,” you swallow, “How did you feel about me when we were kids.”

With his mouth ajar, he blinks. Where was this coming from?

“Why?” he instinctively asks.

You purse your lips, “I’ve been meaning to ask for the longest while. I want to know your answer.”

He leans back into his seat and puts his food down in concentration.

“I thought I knew what love was and it came in the form of you. It’s kind of dumb. What would a teenager know about that kind of stuff?” he shrugs, “I liked the idea that you liked me. You were someone who supported me. You were there for me. You were generous with your time and affection.

“Looking back it’s just infatuation, isn’t it?" he asks rhetorically.

“You sounded naive.” you say, neither agreeing nor disagreeing.

He chuckles, “Who wouldn’t be at that age?”

“And sincere.” you followed up with a smile.

Gojo turns away from you. He sees glimpses of your early teenage years when he sees that smile. It was the smile you wore when he visited you at your clan’s home and helped out with your chores. You liked it when he would carry the firewood you gathered from the forest.

“...you made me feel so grown up, like I had my life together. Not everyone liked who they were engaged to, but I really liked you and you had believed in me so much.” he murmurs, “I felt so lucky to be able to marry you one day. I was literally brimming with hope. But that was 13 years ago.”

You both get off the train. The crowded station greets you both. Although you walk side by side, it is too easy for the crowd to sweep you away. You hold onto his sleeve. He doesn't notice.  

You try to say goodbye when you make it out, but he seems distracted. You begin to walk away.

“You’re not saying goodbye?” he asks, startled.

“I did, but you didn’t mind me.” you smirk with your arms crossed.

“Sorry. There’s a lot going on in my mind.” he nods, walking up beside you.

He leans in to plant a kiss on your cheek. You pull away.

“We’re in public,” you remind him. Gojo isn’t public with you on anything.

He kisses you anyway, pressing his lips on your cheek. You’re surprised but not unpleasantly so. His kiss is long and lingering. You embrace him with your arms around his waist. You briefly close your eyes to drown out the noise of the station.

Gojo can feel his heart racing a thousand kilometers per second. His shoulders relax. It's strangely freeing to be able to kiss you in public.

He knows he’s not into commitment, but whenever he sees you, he questions myself.

“I have to go now.” you bid softly.

I love you. He holds back. He waves carefully to not let his words escape his mouth. He’s not fifteen anymore. He should know better.

Gojo begins walking back to Jujutsu Tech. Being able to kiss you goodbye made him feel so grown up, like he has his life together more than he actually does. It makes him feel, once again, that he is brimming with hope.

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

I wrote this as a follow up for another Gojo x reader fic who used to be engaged. Check out the other parts!

Part 1 || Part 2 || Part 3 || Part 4 || Part 5 || Part 6 || Part 7 || Part 8

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Series Taglist: @tokyo-love-hotel@samkysnks@herownescape@cherrianne192@shamelessdonutsludgebanana@kageyamakock@shirostrbl@luvang3l@cloudsinthecosmos@httpjungoo @saturnki  @itstheee-ha-chan@gucci-froggy @soy1melk @dora-the-grownup @cherryonigiri @fiona782

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