#or the guy who hates parties but went to the party of his own free will | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

cameronsprincess · 2 months ago

Note

i understand that reqs r closed and u completely don’t have to fulfill this but i thought you’d do a BANGER job at this prompt: u and rafe r married but are getting divorced and u threw a divorce party… only to end the night going home with him… a little bit of angst with some smut?? idk make it ur own 💗

zyaaaa<3 i love you for this, and thank you for trusting ME with your request!!!

CW: 18+ only! slight angst, more fluff than i intended, divorce, smut, male receiving oral, piv sex.

note: yeah yeah reader went out w her friends but left w rafe and none of them tried to stop her. in my head none of them noticed their interaction/her leaving with him. let’s pretend they’re blowing up her phone while she’s gettin’ the best dick down of her lifeee. also, i suck at endings, its my biggest flaw so yeah sorry if the ending is bad.

“here’s to finally being free of the most toxic marriage to the most toxic man!” you say joyfully, clinking your glass with three of your closest friends.

your friends all giggle, bringing the champagne flutes to their lips and taking small sips. you glance around your house, a weight seemingly lifted off your shoulders as you take in how freeing it feels to finally have your divorce finalized. you’d been married for three years, and while it was good at first, somewhere during the marriage your— now ex— husband had become cold and indifferent toward you. you couldn’t pinpoint exactly when it happened, nor could you give a reason why, but all you knew was enough was enough. you were too young and too beautiful to spend the rest of your life in a loveless marriage to a man who treated you like shit.

your friends voice rips you from your thoughts. “earth to y/n.. you okay babe?”

you squeeze your eyes shut, giving your friend a big smile before nodding your head. “yeah i’m fine,” pausing, you down the rest of your champagne, setting the glass onto your coffee table and rising from your spot on the couch. “let’s go out tonight.”

your friends all share slightly concerned looks with one another before their attention lands on you. nicole clears her throat, awkwardly shifting before she finally speaks, “i mean.. yeah sure, but are you sure you wanna put yourself out there like that right now?”

you roll your eyes, sighing. “yes i’m sure. i just spent the last year of my life going through a messy divorce process, so i’d like to go out with my girls, have some drinks, dance a little, and maybe, just maybe, find some hot guy to bring home. i’m not going out to find my next husband, jesus.”

and that’s exactly what you did, but little did you know… the man you’d go home with was your ex husband.

—

“another shot of patrón please? thank you!” you shout to the bartender, giving him a flirty half-drunken smile.

the bartender nods, moving to pour your drink before sliding it across the bar to you. you smile, grabbing the glass and downing it before setting it back on the bars top.

“a pretty woman like you shouldn’t be buying her own drinks.” a low, raspy voice says from behind you.

you bite at your bottom lip, smiling to yourself before turning to face the mystery man. your eyes widen in shock when you see rafe, standing so close to you that you could smell the whiskey on his breath.

“rafe.. what the fuck are you doing here?”

he smiles down at you, taking a step closer, backing you into the bar. “i could ask you the same question. the divorce only finalized today, trying to forget me so soon, sweetheart?”

“i’m not your fucking sweetheart, rafe. now leave me alo-”

rafe grips at your hips, pulling your body into his. he dips his head down, inhaling the scent of your shampoo, groaning as he rests his forehead on your shoulder. “i miss you. do you miss me?”

your pussy pulses from his words, the smell of him so intoxicating it had your head spinning more than it already was. you did love him, and you hated that he pushed you to file for divorce, but it’s how things were. you couldn’t mess up everything you’d fought for, not now, not ever.

you try and shove him back, but his hands tighten on your waist, not allowing you to move. “baby, stop. m’sorry, for everything. i know the divorce finalized today, but that doesn’t mean we can’t still fuck.. maybe try and just be friends, date, see where life takes us, right?”

he was trying to manipulate your drunk mind, and you couldn’t let him win. you refused to let him win. it was done. you were free of him, so why was he here and trying to reel you back in? he didn’t miss you, he missed the comfort you brought him, he missed how you’d always try and calm his mind, how you’d forgive him every time he fucked up. he didn’t miss you.

“rafe please, stop. i’m too drunk for this argument. you don’t fucking miss me, you miss the way i was for you,” you pause, your half-lidded eyes looking up and finding rafe’s beautiful blue eyes. “i can’t do this, please.”

you tear your eyes off his, knowing if you looked into them for too long, you’d be a goner. you’d go home with him, let him have his way with you, and wake up regretting it in the morning, because you and rafe could never work out. not as friends, not as a couple, not as anything.

rafe slides his left hand up your sides, reaching your face and cupping your cheek in his hand. his thumb slowly strokes the skin before he hooks his thumb and index finger under your chin, forcing your head up.

“baby.. i do miss you. please, just— just let me prove to you how much i fucking miss you.”

his words tug at your heartstrings, your body melting into his touch like it always did. tears well in your eyes, your chin wobbling as you look into his eyes, eyes that used to make your heart stop and made you feel safe and at home.

sighing, you nod your head once. “okay.. okay fine. just one night, we can look at it as… goodbye sex. right?”

a smile takes over rafe’s lips, “whatever helps you sleep at night, sweetheart. let’s go.”

he quickly grabs your hand, pulling you across the dance floor and out the doors of the club you were in. the warm, mid-summer air hits your skin, the light breeze sending goosebumps up your arms. rafe drags you across the parking lot, eagerly reaching his truck and unlocking it, opening the passenger door for you. you raise a brow at him, “someone’s really trying tonight, isn’t he? you stopped opening my door for me years ago.”

rafe chuckles. “i’m sorry for that… truly.”

you roll your eyes, giving him a small smile before lifting yourself into his truck, pulling on your seatbelt as he shuts the door for you. he rounds the front of his truck, hopping into the driver seat and starting the truck, putting it into reverse and speeding out of the clubs parking lot.

the ride back to rafe’s house is comfortably silent, and the second you two arrive, rafe is killing the engine and hopping out to help you out and into his house.

you barely make it through the front door before rafe’s lips are on yours. he grips your hips in his hands, squeezing tightly as his lips devour yours. he bites at your bottom lip, sucking it into his mouth before releasing it softly. he rests his forehead against yours, the sound of both your heavy breathing filling the small entryway of his house.

“fuck i missed you, i missed you so fucking much sweetheart.” rafe breathes out, his hands slowly running up and down your sides.

he runs his hands down to your ass, squeezing at it softly before running them down further, his fingers playing with the hem of your dress. he begins slowly pulling the dress up your body, exposing your black lace thong, sucking in a sharp breath, “fuck.”

your cheeks heat up under his intense gaze, “rafe.. please? ‘m so horny, just need to feel you tonight, okay? just make me forget why we split up.”

rafe bites his bottom lip hard, nodding his head furiously. he pulls your dress off completely, tossing it behind you. he dips his head down again, his lips attacking the length of your neck with sloppy, open mouthed kisses. your knees grow weak, slightly shaking when he sucks softly at the skin of your neck, pulling back and groaning as he admires the deep purple bruise he’d marked you with.

“so beautiful,”

you drop to your knees, fingers fumbling with the buckle of his belt, finally pulling it free from the loops of his khakis and tossing it to the floor before working his button and zipper. rafe is quick to shove his khakis and boxers down, letting his hard cock spring free. you moan at the sight of him, hands reaching out hesitantly to grip at his thick shaft.

a low groan spills from rafe’s lips the second your hands wrap around him, giving slow and deliberate strokes. “always looked so pretty on your knees f’me, never wanna lose this, baby.”

you dart out your tongue, licking up the precum that had leaked from his tip. you moan at the taste of him on your tongue. you missed him, and this is definitely a huge step backward, but you’d deal with the consequences later. tonight, you wanted to soak up having him be attentive and loving with you again, he hadn’t been this way in so long.

“c’mon baby, suck my cock, need to feel those pretty lips wrapped ‘round me.”

you obey, wrapping your lips around his swollen tip and sucking at it lightly, your hands still slowly stroking at his shaft. rafe groans, his head thrown back in pleasure as his cock twitches in your hands. you slowly push more of him into your mouth, sucking him down your throat until he’s buried deep, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. you hold him there, breathing in deep through your nose, while your tongue works at the vein on the underside of his cock.

you pull your head back, leaving only the tip in your mouth. you tease him, sucking at his head before pulling him out completely, giving quick strokes with your hands, your lips leaving soft kisses up and down his length.

rafe wraps his hand in your hair, tugging harshly at your messy locks as he groans in frustration. “baby, please? you wanna hear me beg? i’m not beneath begging, not with you at least.”

you shift on your knees, your clit pulsing at how desperate he was for you. this is what you wanted, for rafe to be desperate for your touch and attention. not wasting another second, you push him back into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks as you begin bobbing your head up and down, taking him all the way down your throat before slowly sliding him back out. rafe’s grip on your hair loosens, but he quickly tightens it back, yanking at your hair harshly as he holds you in place. he begins thrusting his hip, fucking himself down your throat at a quick pace, taking away your air with each push of his hips.

tears roll down your face, your throat already sore from how hard he was fucking it. you gag and moan around him, feeling him twitch in your mouth, the vein on the bottom of his shaft throbbing. you work your tongue against him, helping push him toward his release. rafe’s cock swells, low curses falling from his lips. he yanks your head back by your hair, his cock slipping from your lips, “goddamn… forgot how good you take a throat fucking, baby.. but i wanna cum somewhere else tonight.”

your tear-filled, bloodshot eyes meet his and he extends his hand out for you to grab. you hesitantly place your smaller hand in his, letting him pull you up off your knees. his lips are on yours in seconds, tongue slipping into your mouth, tongues swirling and teeth clashing. rafe listen you off the ground, pulling you into his arms as your legs wrap around his waist. he walks you into the large living room, his lips never leaving yours. he finally breaks the kiss, gently dropping you onto his couch, the cool leather chilling your hot skin.

rafe drops to his knees, his fingers digging into the waistband of your panties, slowly pulling them down your legs and tossing them onto the coffee table behind him. his eyes flit down to your dripping pussy, the bright blue of his eyes drowned out by his blown pupils. he grips your thighs in his hands, roughly spreading them further apart, “you’re soaked, sweetheart. i knew you fuckin’ missed me.”

you whimper, rolling your hips in a silent plea for him to touch you. rafe chuckles, his right hand releasing your thigh and moving to cup your pussy. he slides two fingers through your slick folds, coating them in your arousal before bringing them to his lips, “mmm.. still so sweet.” he rasps.

rafe stands to his full height, lifting you off the couch and turning, sitting himself down with you in his lap. you grind yourself against his hard cock, moaning at the delicious pressure on your clit as you did. rafe lets his head fall back, his hands tightly gripping at your ass as he helped you slide yourself against his throbbing cock. you lift yourself onto your feet, hovering over him as you grasp his shaft in one hand, lining him with your entrance. rafe’s eyes find yours, his bottom lip sucked between his teeth as he waited to finally feel your pussy wrapped around him.

you slowly sink yourself down on his cock, the two of you moaning in unison. you sit yourself all the way down, burying him to the hilt, both of your hands flying to his shoulders, your nails digging into the soft skin. rafe hisses in a breath, his cock pulsing inside you, “can i move? please baby? wanna fuck this perfect fucking pussy.”

you whimper when he bucks his hips, the swollen head of his cock hitting at your sweet spot. “yes. please, rafe. please fuck me.”

that’s all rafe needed to hear. his hands make purchase on your hips, lifting you up off his cock, leaving only the tip inside before he slams himself back in. you cry out his name, leaning forward and burying your face in his neck. rafe lifts your hips slightly, allowing himself just enough room to quickly pound himself into you. your walls clench around him, tears rolling down your cheeks from the pleasure he was giving you but also because you knew, you couldn’t let him go again after this.

you lift your face from his neck, resting your forehead against his, the two of you staring into each others eyes as rafe continues to fuck himself inside you. rafe pulls his right hand off your hip, his thrusts slowing as he reaches up and swipes a tear from your cheek. “don’t cry, baby.”

you sniffle, “just feels so… fuck— so good, rafe.”

rafe slowly moves his hips, his thrusts slow and sensual. you cup his face in your hands, your eyes scanning his perfect face before falling to his lips. rafe leans forward, capturing your lips with his as the two of you move your hips in sync. you moan against his lips, your walls fluttering around his cock, “rafe.. ‘m so close… please..”

“i know baby… i know,” rafe lets out his out pleasure filled moan, his voice cracking as the next words leave his mouth, “i love you… fuck i love you, this is all about you, let it out, be my good girl and cum f’me, yeah?”

you let out a choked sob, the three small words that left his mouth pulling your heart in more ways than one. your mind is reeling, does he mean it? was losing you what he needed to realize he truly loves you and needs you? do you forgive him? your pussy clenches around rafe’s dick, your lower belly tightening as rafe’s slow strokes push you toward the edge. you sink your teeth into rafe’s shoulder, muffling your cries as you come undone around him, tears uncontrollably rolling down your face.

rafe groans, his thrusts slow and sloppy. his dick twitches inside you, a choked “i love you,” escaping him as he pushes in deep one final time, holding himself inside you as he fills your pussy with his cum.

the two of you are holding onto one another, coming down from your shared highs. heavy breathing fills the room, and when you fully come down from your bliss, you’re pulling yourself off of him, scrambling to find your panties, ignoring the wetness between your thighs and his cum seeping out of you. you’re quick to throw your panties on, turning to rush and find your dress, but rafe grabs your wrist, pulling you back into him.

you can’t look at him, “hey.. baby, look at me, please.”

a tear falls down your face, but you force yourself to look into his eyes, noticing that his are filled with his own unshed tears.

“this was a mistake.” you whisper, but rafe heard you anyways.

his brows furrow, “how can you say that?”

you try and push off of him, but he tightens his arms around you.

“rafe, please. we got a divorce. you made your bed, you chose to treat me like shit and lose me. we can’t work. we don’t work.”

rafe sighs, “listen. i meant everything i said, i’m fucking sorry. i love you, i just… goddamnit, i just suck at showing my emotions. i suck at letting people in, and because of that, i pushed you away and lost the best fucking thing that ever happened to me,” you laugh, rolling your eyes but rafe’s face never falters. “i’m not fucking joking. i fucking love you, okay? okay, y/n? i fucking love you, and i need you.”

you don’t know what to think. your divorce was just finalized, you can’t possibly go back… can you? you do love him, and never wanted this in the first place. what if you take him back and things go back to shit? you’ll look like an idiot.

rafe cups your face in his hands, his blue eyes shining as he stares back at you. “i see you overthinking this, and i understand. i do. but hear me out, please?”

“o—okay..”

rafe blows out a breath. “thank you. i know how i feel. i fucked up, and i want to prove to you that i can be better… for you. please, just, stay with me tonight, let me try and get a start on proving to you how much i need you back,” he pauses, swallowing harshly before he continues, “and if after tonight, you still feel the same.. you can leave and i’ll never bother you again.”

you think over his words, knowing that you would do anything to receive the love you once did from him again. you squeeze your eyes shut, running a hand through your hair as you let out a shaky breath. “rafe, i— fuck.. okay. fine. but if i do choose to take you back, you cannot go back to how things were. i can’t go through this again, i can’t look like the idiot who went running back just because her ex husband spewed a few sweet words after sex..”

rafe smiles hopefully, “i understand, i promise, i mean everything. i will prove to you how much i fucking love you,” he leaves a soft kiss to your lips, standing from the couch with you in his arms bridal style. “now, let’s get your upstairs and cleaned up, then we’ll lay in bed and we can talk about anything, whatever you want, tonight’s all about you, and i’m here to listen and do whatever i can to fix us.”

tagging some moots: @starkeysbabygirl @rafesthroatbaby @rafesheaven @rafesbabygirlx @sarahsangelicdoll @nemesyaaa @cherryobx @httpsdrewstarkey @rafeyscurtainbangs @oceandriveab

#*ೃ༄ my works #rafe cameron #rafe cameron smut #rafe cameron angst #rafe cameron fluff #<- those tags added bc it does include those things #don’t come for me in any way.#rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron x you #ex husband!rafe #rafe smut #rafe cameron fic #rafe cameron fanfiction #obx #rafe obx #outer banks smut

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sitepathos · 3 months ago

Text

From Gold to Mold

Chapter 11: The Interview

Note: Didn’t really plan on making a chapter like this, but I thought we were overdue some filler before we got into some real drama. Enjoy!

You let out a loud agitated sigh as you power down your computer and slouch in your office chair.

Since you got back from Metropolis, you’ve been working on a free update to thank all your players for their support and voting to make Salvage Rights the Indie Game of the Year; working on an update that’ll satisfy the players and be easy to develop and implement was difficult enough, but all the drama with the Waynes made it even harder.

It’s been four fucking years since you left Gotham! Even when you moved back to Goodsprings, you couldn’t help but think about all they’d done to you, from Bruce acting like you’re an intruder in his “perfect” house to Damian being your personal demon. You’d managed to put hundreds of miles between yourself and them, but they still managed to have a hold on you. Sure, you knew you were in a home you owned fair and square, not Wayne Manor, but there were still instances where you caught yourself looking over your shoulder to make sure no one was behind you or peeking around corners to make sure a room was empty before you walked in.

Even with the Megamycete constantly reminding you, it took you the better part of a year to get it through your head that you no longer needed the survival tactics that had kept you alive in Wayne Manor as you’re the only one in your house.

It’s taken the last three years, but you were finally ready to move on with your life, look towards the future and leave Gotham, Bruce Wayne, and his merry band of bastards behind. You published your game, people loved it almost immediately, and you had been rewarded for your efforts with fame and fortune.

You finally free and could actually be happy for the first time in years.

Now, he and his children come and plague you, trying to drag you back to the place you hated from day one.

He made it clear that he never considered you his son (hell, what he said the night those three bastards kidnapped you proved that), always showering Dick, Jason, Tim, and Damian with a fatherly love you had slowly realized would never be meant for you and shoved you aside in favor of showcasing the children he was proud of. Eventually, you were forgotten by both Bruce Wayne and the larger world as no one in Gotham’s media class ever asked where you were, why weren’t you with them at this party, or when was he planning on throwing you your own introductory gala like his other kids.

As time went on, you took steps to separate yourself from him, never telling anyone who your father was and only accepting Gould as your proper last name (although if you ever found some guy to marry you, you’d definitely be open to changing your last name).

Then, that son of a bitch shows up and ruins everything, your face plastered all over the news, primarily in Gotham and Metropolis, and you can’t go anywhere without people staring, whispering, and bombarding you with several questions (many of them being if you could set them up with your “siblings”).

You were finally living the life you’d dreamed about and he had to go and ruin it! You’d known that Bruce Wayne is a miserable motherfucker who can’t stand to see anyone around him to be happy (you’d listened in on plenty of arguments between him and the others whenever one of them tried to strike out on their own to figure that out), but you never thought that he’d be so petty he’d try to drag you, the son he never wanted, back when he saw you happy for once in your life.

You look down at your hands and imagine what it’d feel like to have them wrapped around his neck, squeezing the life out of him and seeing him realize that despite his strength as Batman, he was powerless compared to you; the relief you would feel as you saw the life leave his eyes as he accepted that the son he never wanted was the instrument of his destruction.

You revel in the brief sensation of satisfaction that passes through you from your daydream.

(You may get your wish,) the Megamycete says, bringing you out for your fantasy.

“How do you figure?”

It doesn’t answer, but you feel sensations of anxiety and apprehension radiate from it.

“What’s wrong,” you say, getting a little afraid.

Over the last four years, you’d never known the Megamycete to be afraid of anything.

So, seems like things are about to go from bad to worse in your life.

(We reached out to the Bats. They know of both our existence and our bond with you.)

“What,” you exclaim, standing up from your chair. “You told them? Why?”

(We thought we could reason with them for you. They—)

“How could you do that? Now they know about you! They weren’t going to stop coming and my only ace in the hole is you! I’ve lost that advantage thanks to you! For a sentient mushroom that has the knowledge of thousands of people, that was a pretty stupid thing to do!”

You’re pissed. Really pissed.

You had a feeling that the night with Bruce at the Gala wasn’t the end of things and all of his children visiting you proved it. The Bats have made it clear they’ll do whatever they must to accomplish their goals and for whatever reason, they’ve decided you’re their goal.

Sure, you went overboard a little demonstating your strength when dealing with Jason and Damian, but that they had no idea your strength came from the Megamycete and that was only the surface what you were capable of. If they decided to come at you in force, they were in one hell of a surprise when you fabricated hardened mold armor right in front of them and do to them what you did to Joker. You know they’ve fought plenty of villains with powers, but the mold is stronger than all of them combined and you’d make them regret ever meeting you as you tear them apart and scatter their intestines across the ground.

But now, thanks to the Megamycete, they know that you’re not alone and who knows what else?

(We are sorry,) it says, its tone remorseful. (We thought we could persuade them to leave you alone. We were wrong.)

“Yeah, no shit! If they weren’t listening to me, what made you think they would listen to you? Hell, you know how Bruce feels about metas, knowing I’m one probably made things worse! He’s probably making some cage to hold me right now!”

You tap into the roots scattered around Gotham and focus on Wayne Manor, but are surprised to find you’re unable to connect.

(They have started removing our roots. We have accelerated the growth of the surrounding roots, but they are taking steps to prevent their regrowth.)

“So, we have no idea what they’re planning. Great, that’s just great. Terrific job, man. Really, just superb.”

(We thought we could help.)

You exhale a sigh and wave a hand through your hair, trying to come up with a plan on where to go next.

“How did it go down, exactly? What happened?”

The Megamycete uploads its meeting with them into your brain and it flashes before your eyes, from the Megamycete torturing some of them by turning into their dead ones to them learning about you killing your would-be murderers and Joker and Harley.

You thought you hated Bruce Wayne enough, but apparently you don’t hate that man enough.

How someone can be so delusional is astounding to say the least. Honestly, he deserves to be thrown in Arkham and studied, along with all the others.

They ignore you for most of your life and treat you like shit and now that you’re finally happy, they want to drag you back to Gotham.

And why?

Because they “love you?”

Bullshit.

They feel guilty and they just want to feel better. You know no one in that damn house is capable of feeling real love and once they feel better about themselves, they’ll go right back to ignoring you.

(They are truly delusional. They think their past behavior does not matter and you should be brought back to their fold.)

Yeah, you got that from Jason. The bastard wasn’t able to get away from Bruce and Gotham (because despite all his bluster, all he wants is that man’s approval) and because he couldn’t do it, he thinks you shouldn’t be able to.

Selfish, all of them.

“You fucked up. They were going to find out eventually, but thanks to you, we’re gonna have to deal with them sooner than we expected.”

(We know. We overestimated our abilities and brought trouble upon you. We apologize. Truly, we do.)

You understand where its heart was in the right place, but it still doesn’t change the fact that the Bats are probably going to be breaking down your door any day now.

Just then, there’s a knock at your door, making you freeze.

Shit, are they already here? Are they in regular clothes or are they in their capes and cowls? Are they really that desperate to bring you back to Gotham that they’d really raid your house in the middle of the day for anyone walking by to see?

You tap into the roots surrounding your house and see not Bruce Wayne or any of his kids darkening your door. Instead, you see a black haired woman dressed professionally standing on your porch.

“Who the hell is she?”

(We do not know. She is definitely not a resident of Gotham as we do not recognize her.)

That certainly doesn’t make you feel better. You know Bruce is resourceful as hell and isn’t afraid to use any dirty trick in the book to get what he wants.

(She does not appear to have ill intents. She is too delicate-looking to pose a threat to you, nor is her purse large enough to hold a weapon large enough to harm you.)

Looks can be deceiving. After all, Bruce is a member of the Justice League, where Martian Manhunter is and you can see Bruce using the alien to transform and trick you into lowering your guard. When that man gets obsessed over something, he doesn’t know when to leave well enough alone.

Still, you can speculate to the moon and back, but until you open the door and talk to the woman, you’ll never know for certain. Sure, it could be related to your current Bat problem, or it could be something else.

So, you walk through your house and up to your door.

“Who is it,” you call out.

“Lois Lane, Daily Planet,” she responds. “I’m here to ask Y/N Gould for an interview.”

Lois Lane? You’ve heard Bruce and the others say that name when talking about Metropolis and Superman and you’ve seen the name when reading a few news articles for school assignments, but you’ve never seen any pictures of her, so you had no idea the woman standing on your doorstep is the very woman famous for being one of the very few reputable journalists left in the world.

You unlock the door and open it just enough to stick your head out to see her face to face. You look into her eyes and see no ill intent or hidden motives.

“Mr. Gould, I presume,” she asks, a gentle smile on her face.

“You want an interview with me? What for?”

“Your relation with Bruce Wayne. As I’m sure you know, he’s the most famous man in Gotham, if he so much as sneezes in public, several news articles are written to publish it. Gotham’s media has always covered whenever he adopted another child, but out of nowhere, he appears at a video game awards ceremony and claims you’re his son and you call him a sperm donor. No one can forget when Damian Wayne appeared at a gala and was declared Bruce Wayne’s biological son. It made quite the stir when you pushed him and made it clear you had nothing but animosity towards him.”

Oh yes, you can remember the many days of fawning Damian got when he moved into the manor, leaving you bitter since all you got was a few minutes of people asking about your mother before forgetting about you in favor of all the others.

“What is it you want,” you say, trying to remain polite. “I lost years thanks to Gotham and Bruce Wayne and I’m not eager to lose any more dwelling in the past.”

“I want to hear your side of the story,” she says with a determination that surprises you. “You clearly suffered due to him and I want to help you tell your story to the world.”

You’re actually speechless at that. You know pretty much all of Gotham worships at the Alter of Wayne and his influence expands far beyond the city’s borders, leaving very few people willing to hear anything that would portray him in a negative light. It’s very safe to say Gotham is a cathedral dedicated to both Bruce Wayne and Batman.

To hear that someone with a reputation and influence like Lois Lane would want to listen to you and help you tell others your life’s story is nothing less of a shocker.

“I can’t say you’ll like what I have to say, Ms. Lane,” you say as you open the door wide and stand in the doorway. “I know Bruce Wayne is an institution of Gotham, but I can tell you that wasn’t my experience.”

“This isn’t about my opinion on Bruce Wayne or any of his children. This is about what you experienced during your stay in Wayne Manor.”

“And how much are you wanting to know?”

“Everything. Or, as much or as little you’re willing to tell me.”

Her words strike you to your core. It’s been years since you’ve had anyone really interested in what you have to say. Sure, Alfred was always willing to listen to you, but you learned early on that you had to hold back on how you really felt about Bruce Wayne and his children as any criticism you had about them was a failure on his part.

The poor man did the best he could, but those people are clearly beyond any form of help outside of being locked in padded cells.

“Come in, please,” you say, steeping aside so she could enter your home. Once she’s in, you close the door and lead her to the living room. “Can I get you anything? Coffee, water, soda?”

“Anything’s fine, thank you.”

She sits on the couch while you rush to the kitchen and prepare two glasses of ice water, a crystal pitcher full of more water, and a small bowl full of grapes and load it all onto a tray and carry it back to the living room. This is the first time you’ve ever had a guest and you want to make a good impression.

“So, where would you like to start,” you ask as you sit in your favorite chair, your glass of water in hand.

“I’d like to ask about your mother, if that’s alright,” she answers, pulling out a writing pad and pen from her purse. “I managed to find newspapers relating to you around the time you moved to Gotham, but they were very few and none of them had anything regarding your mother or your past.”

You stifle a chuckle at the thought of being one the front page of a few newspapers no doubt rotting in the Gotham Gazette’s archives. You were probably the center of news for all a week before Bruce adopted Tim and stole the spotlight, leading to the tradition of you being pushed further and further back whenever Bruce collected another troubled kid.

“My mom was Maria Gould, a famous writer known for romance novels set during the Age of Sail.”

“That Maria Gould,” she asks, looking up from her notepad in shock. “I didn’t know you were related to her?”

“You know her?”

“I was an avid reader of her books.” She gives a small chuckle. “I actually use to daydream of interviewing her when I first started at the Daily Planet.” He smile then shifts into a sympathetic frown. “I remember reading about her death in the paper. I knew it said she had a son, but I didn’t see the connection until now.”

“She died on my sixth birthday. It’s been sixteen years since that day and I can still remember it so clearly.”

That day haunts you to this day. You got to school so happy and excited for Momma to come pick you up after school, thinking about how much pizza you’d eat and what presents you’d get.

You had no idea that when you told her bye that day, it would be for the last time.

(Your grief is still so profound, even after all this time.)

That day ended in the loss of your Momma and your life went from bad to worse when Alfred picked you up and brought you to Gotham to live with that bastard.

“I can tell you loved you very much,” she responds, her expression sympathetic.

“Yeah,” you say, suppressing a tear. “Yeah, I did.”

“So, did you have any idea who your father was? Did she ever tell you or did you ever ask?”

“Yeah, I did ask when all my friends were celebrating Father’s Day and I realized I didn’t have a Daddy like my friends. She said that she didn’t know who he was. She didn’t say it, but when she said she was “young and dumb,” I later found out that meant she got drunk and had sex with a guy she didn’t know.” A ghost of a smile graces your face. “She said when I came along, I set her on the right path.”

“I say you did,” she responds, returning your smile. “Being a parent often makes people turn their lives around.” She jots something down in her pad before looking back at you. “So, when did you move to Gotham?”

“Immediately after the funeral. The sheriff drove me back home to pack up most of my stuff and when we got to the house, Alfred was waiting for me.”

“Wait, Bruce Wayne didn’t pick you up himself?”

“No, Alfred said he was too busy with work and couldn’t come.”

“His firstborn son loses his son and he couldn’t even make the time to get you,” she angrily mutters to herself as she writes. “And how did he react when he saw you?”

“It was almost like he was staring at a stranger in his home.”

You can still remember how you felt when you met Bruce Wayne for the first time; it was the first time you’d ever felt like someone didn’t like you and it really hurt.

“He barely said a word to me before telling Alfred he was going out.”

“Doing what,” she asks, clearly getting angrier and angrier by the second.

For a brief moment, you entertain the idea on ousting Bruce’s dirty little secret and telling the world that he’s Batman. He’d be drowning in so much attention and legal battles that he wouldn’t be able to bother you ever again.

But then, the rational part of your brain convinces you that by telling everyone Batman’s secret identity would invite a lot of trouble your way. After all, all of Bruce’s kids are vigilantes, so many would automatically assume you were one as well, leading you to being dragged into Bruce’s legal and publicity quagmire.

Also, there’s the very real possibility that all of Bruce’s enemies would come after you seeking revenge and while you were more than capable of dealing with whatever came your way, you’d really rather not deal with it altogether.

“I don’t know,” you say. “He said he had work to do, but this is Bruce Wayne we’re talking about. Chances are he was in some sleazy club with a girl on each side and one on her knees if you know what I mean.”

“I wouldn’t doubt it,” she agrees. “Now, a week after you moved to Wayne Manor, Bruce adopted Tim Drake. Did you two get along?”

You bark a bitter laugh. “He took one look at me and decided I wasn’t worth his attention. If you ask me, there’s always been something wrong with him. He’s always watching people, taking note of everything they do and obsessing over finding out his secrets. If you ask me, he’s not right and his parents knew it. That’s why they were always leaving him behind when they went to dig sites or parties.”

She’s definitely interested in that as she seemingly writes down everything you said, word for word.

She stifle a chuckle at the thought of Tim Drake being asked what the fuck’s wrong with him every time he goes anywhere.

“What about Dick Grayson? Everyone in Gotham says he’s everything a good big brother should be.”

Yes, you remember the celebration he got when the Gotham Gazette named him the World’s Best Big Brother for the tenth year in a row.

A celebration you weren’t invited to.

“He was a brother to me. When I first moved in, he always carved out time for Tim, but couldn’t give me the time of day. After being blown off a few dozen times in favor for of his other siblings, I eventually stopped asking him.”

“What about Jason Todd?”

“He gave me a black eye when we met.” She gasps at that. “Yeah, he’s a brute. He’s always going on about Jane Austen, but underneath that veneer of an intellectual, he’s Crime Alley trash. Honestly, Bruce should’ve just left him in that part of Gotham. With his poor anger management and proclivity for violence, he’d fit right in. Animals belong in the wild.”

“What about your half brother, Damian Wayne?”

“That little shit pulled a sword on me and nearly tried to take my head off.”

“He what?”

“Yeah, an actual sword. I was able to get out of the way, but he gave me a scar on my cheek. It took me a few years, but I was able to find a way to make it invisible, especially when I looked in the mirror. Every time I saw it, it reminded me of how little I mattered in that house.”

“What did Bruce Wayne do? Surely he knew about it?”

“He was in the room when it happened. All he did was carry him out while he was yelling insults about me and my Momma. And Dick said he had a difficult upbringing and I should forgive him.”

“Forgive him for almost killing you,” she exclaims, her eyes wide as saucers and a look of disgust on her face. “You can’t be serious!”

“I wish I was, Ms. Lane, but Dick’s made it clear that Damian’s his favorite and had he managed to kill me, I’m sure Dick would’ve just taken him out for ice cream and told him that he can’t go around killing people.” You let out a bitter laugh. “You know, he had some nerve calling my Momma a ‘whore’ when I know the secret about his mother.”

“You do,” she asks, leaning forward, her pen and pad ready, indicating you have her full and undivided attention. “Everyone’s asked Bruce about the identity of Damian’s mother and the details relating to the birth, but he’s told us nothing. Are you willing to shed some light on this?”

For a brief moment, you actually ask yourself if this is right. With all the things Damian’s done to you, is it really acceptable to tell the dirty little secret regarding his conception? After all, if you were in his shoes, you’d kill to ensure your secret never saw the light of day.

(But he would not hesitate to tell the world your secret if your situations were reversed,) the Megamycete chimes in. (And does he not deserve some comeuppance for his many transgressions against you?)

You have to admit, it has a point. And besides, this’ll give the Wayne Family a massive shitstorm they’ll have to deal with and your mind’s immediately made up.

“I know her name, but I don’t want her coming after me, so I’m afraid that part of the secret stays with me.” Lois nods, so you continue. “His mother raped him.”

She gasps and you know you’ve passed a point of no return now.

Then again, daring to defy the “great” Bruce Wayne was a point of no return, so this is just adding fuel to the fire.

“She drugged his drink and got him to agree to sleep with her, all for the sole purpose of getting pregnant because she believed him to be of a superior quality.” You lower your voice to mutter, “I can tell you she was greatly misled.”

After that, the interview breezed by, asking about how Steph and Cass treated you to the conditions you were kept in. You told her everything, about how Damian would go out of his way to make you miserable to how Bruce couldn’t be bothered to do anything for you and it was Alfred that kept you alive. In fact, it was only the poor butler that seemed to care about you and you were confident that had you died, Bruce would just be pissed about the inconvenience your death caused him, from having to find a place to bury you to making up a story to tell the media.

It was only when you told her the story involving Damian and your Momma’s pen did you realize that not only was she crying, but so were you.

You knew how that memory made you feel, but had forgotten how much it pained you until you told her every detail. Funny how the brain tries so hard to suppress the worst moments of your life.

“Why do you think they treated you like this,” she asks, trying to keep her voice even to disguise the fact she’s obviously upset. “From everything you’ve told me, it sounds like they really didn’t see you as a Wayne.”

“Because I was the consequence of Bruce’s stupidity. He got drunk and did something stupid, leading to me, and he didn’t like that he was forced to live with him and ruin his family’s image. And because I was normal.”

“Normal?”

“Yes, normal. I had a normal life with Momma while all of the have colorful backgrounds. And I’d like to think that I’m average looking and averagely intelligent with nothing special about me, compared to everyone in the Wayne Family, who always thing their the best looking and smartest people in the room. Plus, I wasn’t damaged goods until Bruce Wayne came into my life. I guess the tragic death of my Momma wasn’t enough for him to make him love me.”

Those words cause you to let out a choked sob as more and more memories of your time in Wayne Manor start surfacing, memories you’d prefer to keep buried.

“I think that’s enough reminiscing for one day,” you say, wiping your eyes and standing up.

“Yes, I think I have everything I need,” she says, doing the same thing.

“Is there anything I can get you before you go, Ms. Lane,” you ask as you lead her to the front door. “Maybe a drink or a snack for the road?”

One of Alfred’s many lessons was how to be a good host and he’d flip out if you didn’t offer her something.

“No, thank you, Mr. Gould, you’ve given me more than enough.” She hesitates for a moment before getting close to you, her arms at both your sides. You freeze up, thinking the worst is about to happen when you realize she’s hugging you. “I’m so sorry for your loss and what you had to go through growing up. No one should ever have to experience such neglect.”

Outside of Alfred, it’s been years since anyone’s hugged you. Last time you were hugged by anyone not the butler was when Momma first died; Goodsprings is the type of where everyone knows everyone and you’re pretty sure you had the entire town giving you hugs before and during the funeral.

“Thank you,” you whisper, returning the hug.

“I know it doesn’t undo the damage he’s done, but I promise this story will make everyone see who Bruce Wayne truly is.”

And with that, you two separate and you wave goodbye as she gets in her car and drives off.

(You made the right decision to tell her everything,) the Megamycete says as you close and lock your door. (We must say, we are surprised you chose not to tell her their roles as Gotham’s vigilantes. Surely the benefits of exposing them outweigh the projected consequences. Or at least balance out.)

“Believe me, I was plenty tempted, but having the enemies of Batman knocking down my door would be more trouble than it was worth. Sure, I could kill them all, but it would only be a matter of time until I was put in a situation where too many people would ask too many questions.”

“We see your point. Besides, her story will no doubt cause more than enough trouble for him and his band of misfits.”

A part of you makes you wish you were back in Gotham so you could see the backlash Bruce is about to be hit with.

Granted, it’s a small part, practically microscopic, but it’s still there.

“I understand, but—“ Bruce says before hearing a click, indicating the call has been ended.

“Another bad phone call, Master Bruce,” Alfred says as holds out a cup of tea.

“Yes,” he sighs, putting his phone in his pocket and taking the cup with one hand and rubbing his temples with the other. “The Humanitarian Ball. The event organizers said they didn’t want ‘cruel and heartless monsters’ bringing a bad name on their event.”

Ever since Lois Lane’s article titled The Forsaken Gould of the Wayne Family came out two days ago, he’s experienced set back after set back; in less than forty-eight hours, Wayne Enterprises’ stock has lost half its value, many large companies have dropped out of their business deals, and more than a few people have withdrawn their invitations for high-profile events.

But none of that compares to the massive gap between you and him getting even larger. He knew that he’d wronged you, but being able to read it in black and white just drives the point even further.

He just wishes that it could’ve stayed between you, him, and your siblings. His family may be celebrities in Gotham, but he prefers to handle the family’s drama behind closed doors.

He’s held his family together through thick and thin and he’ll continue to do so.

And he’s had a hard time doing that over the past two days.

He’s read and reread that article ever since it came out, unable to go a single day without looking at it. He had no idea that he made you feel like you were a mistake he felt embarrassed over or that because you weren’t anything like them, you weren’t worthy of his love.

He knows he’s failed you, but he wants to fix all of it! He wants to embrace you and never let go and to put you up on a pedestal for all of Gotham to bask in and know that you’re the most treasured member of the Wayne Family.

But until they find a way to rid that mushroom in your body and bring you back home, they can’t start fixing their mistakes.

The media’s had a field day with the article ever since it came out, hounding them every time they go out in public, asking them how they could sleep at night knowing they kept you in tiny guest room on the other side of the manor or about how Bruce could treat the son born from Talia drugging him with such love while treating the son born from a drunken one-night stand with such disdain.

He was shocked to learn that you knew of them being the Bats, but to learn you knew the truth regarding Damian’s birth…

Just how much did you know? Did he ignore you so much that he didn’t know you were nearby whenever he talked about anything, even sensitive information that he only talked to Alfred about.

Were you practically invisible to him the entire time you lived here?

Of course, Damian’s pissed that people are calling Talia a rapist and asking if he knew. All this made him a powder keg ready to go off, but what made him really go off was when one of his more elitist classmates made the snide remark that Damian was right to treat you like he did because you came from “some low class author” and simply weren’t worthy of being a member of high society, his son broke the boy’s nose and said he wasn’t worthy of saying your name.

He really wished Damian would’ve let him handle it by framing his parents for tax evasion and illegal business dealings (of course, he still did it, that little shit should’ve known better than to think he had the right to even think about you). They already have enough problems on their plate, they don’t need to add assault to it.

Dick really took it hard when he read that you didn’t think of him as a big brother and Lois Lane had called for him to be stripped of his status of Gotham’s Best Big Brother.

If there’s one thing Dick holds dear in this world, it’s his status as the family’s big brother and would bend over backwards for any of his siblings, be it driving them to the other side of Gotham or helping them with a case.

Dick already felt bad when he realized he’s always ignored you in favor of his other siblings, but that article pushed him over the edge, making his oldest son lose his trademark energetic behavior, choosing to spend all his time in your old room. And if Bruce is very quiet and he creeps close to the door, he can hear Dick’s muffled weeping and apologies.

His heart breaks for his oldest. If he could, he’d undo his and his children’s wrongdoings towards you and bare the memory of it if it meant you being here, where you belong, and not hating them.

Jason also took it hard; Jason knows that he has a problem with his temper and has tried everything under the sun to keep it under control, but his upbringing in Crime Alley and his torture and death at Joker’s hands have left marks on him that he’ll be dealing with for the rest of his life (and Bruce would pay any price to undo them). Jason regrets taking his anger for him out on you when he returned, thinking you were another “replacement” like Tim when he sees you and him had so much in common, you’re practically related.

Tim’s sequestered himself in his room, glued to his computer desk; he’d been in your old room almost everyday ever since they learned of their neglect towards you, thinking the almost bare room would provide some glimpse into your mind that he can use to get into your good graces and make you return home. After the article, many of them tried to rationalize that this Megamycete was twisting your mind and make you hate them so much, but that’s when Tim admitted that he found an old journal of yours, going back to when you first moved in and detailing everything they’d done to you, the last entry detailing Damian throwing your mother’s pen into the yard while it was raining.

He hates how he handled that situation; at the time, he thought you were just making a big deal over some silly little pen (fuck, that was how he really saw it back then), but you were just protecting the only thing you had of your mother, uncaring what it would cost you. He’d like to think he’s do the same thing had someone tried to take his mother’s pearls (you really are his son, aren’t you).

When Tim said he had your journal, they all tried to get it from him, Damian going as far as to bring out his sword and threaten to take it by force (Bruce really needs to consider confiscating that sword due to all the trouble it’s caused). Hell, Jason actually begged to be able to read your journal, but his son would not surrender the book and has been hoarding all the information for himself.

The girls have been silent since reading it, which is never a good sign since Steph is always making noise. He tried to comfort Cass when she read that you don’t consider her a person because of the way she looks at people, like she’s trying to find strengths and weaknesses before attacking them (apparently you also know of her upbringing as a weapon), but his second daughter wouldn’t accept his gestures, signing that you had a point and that she’d never break free of her origins as a living weapon.

And Damian… His youngest has been eerily quiet, but it doesn’t take his detective training to realize he’s fuming on the inside (it seems to be a prerequisite in this family to deal with emotions in unhealthy ways). Bruce had asked him if he was angry that you had exposed the secret of his birth and all his youngest said was that it was his penance for his transgressions against you (his heart breaks that his youngest thinks he deserves this as some sort of punishment).

He was already having a hard time containing the fallout of the world finding out his firstborn son is you, not Damian, and that he’s basically not acknowledged you at all in the last decade, but this article has made it next to impossible to find a convincing lie to tell the media that you came back willingly when they ultimately bring you back home.

“This fucking Megamycete,” he growls, setting the teacup on a nearby table not so gently. “It’s ruined everything.”

“How do you figure, Master Bruce,” the man responds, an eyebrow raised.

“It’s making him lash out, do these things. I know we wronged Y/N and he has every right to hate us, but he shouldn’t be capable of this, should he? There’s no way he’d ever say these things willingly.”

“Do you think you know Master Y/N to make such an assessment?”

That makes him pause.

He has no illusion that he never took the time to sit down with you to have an actual conversation, but his blood still courses through your veins; he’d never do something like this, nor would Damian or any of his other children.

Did your hate for them… for him run that strong? That you despise them so much that you’d expose and put them all on display for the world to see?

Would you go as far as exposing their secret identities?

“What do you think, Alfred,” he says after a moment of silence. “You obviously know him better than all of us. Would he ever do something like this?”

“I think that he wishes to exact revenge for the many years of neglect you all inflicted upon him and that this is his opening volley,” the man says with no hesitation or restraint.

That makes him flinch.

“So, you’re saying he hates us,” he asks, afraid of the answer the butler will give him.

He knows you have every right to hate him, god knows he’s made his children hate him on several occasions, but if you hate him… hate them enough to do something like this…

He knows he’s not strong enough to handle it.

“I think he’s dreamed of making all of you pay for what you’ve done to him for years. And with this Megamycete within him, I say he’s more than a match for you and the children.”

“You’d think he’d attack us?”

“When I held Master Y/N in my arms, I could see the fury beneath his tears. Master Damian use to take delight in giving Master Y/N a demonstration in his combat prowess. There’s no doubt in my mind that Master y/N wishes to return the favor.”

He won’t allow that. He’s hurt his children in multiple ways and his children have hurt one another in multiple ways over the years and every time it happened it created a rift that was never truly repaired, merely covered over. There’s been enough pain and misery in this family to last several lifetimes.

He’s fought tooth and nail to keep his children together and he’s not about to let one slip away.

He understands you want nothing to do with him or your siblings, but like it or not, you’re his son and his children belong in Gotham, under his roof.

“Have the tests on the root samples finished yet?”

“Yes, they were finished just a little while ago. I’m afraid to say that none of the toxins you have in stock had any noticeable effect on them.”

He curses at the news. He had hoped the toxins he keeps so deal with Poison Ivy would be as effective on the Megamycete, but that is unfortunately not the case.

“What about the in-depth analysis on the blood sample?”

“From what the analyzer could tell, the Megamycete seems to behave like a benign cancer, slowly eradicating Master Y/N’s native cells in order to replace them with unstable mold versions, which are able to be manipulated and altered into whatever he desires.”

That certainly makes coming up with a strategy on how to counter your abilities; sure, he has a few ideas based on a few villains and heroes that have similar abilities to you, but until he sees what you’re capable of firsthand, he won’t have anything concrete.

The thought then leads to him having an idea, one he’s eager to act on.

“I’m going out, Alfred.”

“And where are we off to, Master Bruce?”

“I’m going to see my son.”

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tteokdoroki · 1 year ago

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ೀ⋆OCT 3RD MEAN GIRLS ━━ katsuki bakugou + free use !

୨୧ — caution, you are now watching. katsuki bakugou + free use. on october third, he asked you what day it was. btw, in girl world, halloween is the only time of the year when katsuki bakugou can slut girls out and no one can say anything about it. boo, you whore! (4.9K)

୨୧ — rated r. minors, blank and ageless blogs do not interact ! nsfw, heavy smut, characters aged up to 20s, college!au, free use, dub-con, cum-play, voyeurism, humiliation, manipulation, dacryphilia, no prep, public sex(ish), unprotected sex, suprise guest appearance from shouto as aaron samuels, fem!reader, reigina george coded!bakugou.

୨୧ — director’s note. "it's october third." and you know what that means! another nasty kinktober fic for you all! i hope you enjoy this one, its probably my favourite...because uh hello!? reigina george and bakugou? name a more iconic duo! anyways enjoy mwah! - m.list ⋆ kinktober m.list ⋆ taglist ✧

halloween is the only time of the year where anyone can dress like a slut and not get called one for it.

in the world of the conventionally attractive (or the plastics), the kings and queens of the social jungle, it means ditching the guts and gore in favour of skin tight lingerie with a little fake blood that drips calculatedly through the valley between your breasts — just for a little bit of added attention. it’s the one night of the year where self-objectification becomes acceptable, and you by all means, were not planning on missing out.

for you, a well spent Halloween consisted of tooth rotting candy corn, bad movies and trying to avoid the feeling of fomo (fear of missing out, fyi) building up like fluid in the lungs of a sick person. you’ve been an a-grade loser all your life and you’ve never had the chance to experience a proper friend group, high school, (and now) college experience.

however this year would be different. this year you would be ditching loser-ville for boobs and bunny ears and the shortest dress you could find. because you finally had a friendship group who did these kinds of things and you had an invite to the biggest festive rager hosted by the hottest guy on campus — shouto todoroki.

the rest of your friend group, the college renowned plastics, had warned you not to get involved with the half and half campus jock. he already had relations to your beloved ring leader, katsuki bakugou, and your involvement would be breaking several laws of girl and guy code — according to dumb blonde kaminari (he swears he has ESPN or something). katsuki was the head of U.A. university, ruling over the entire student body with an iron fist, an attitude so mean you’re sure you’ve seen professors cry and a glare so sinister he could turn milk sour if he tried hard enough.

bakugou was the definition of the picture perfect guy and he knew it. it was almost as if his face had been ripped straight from a vogue magazine, his shoulders broad, waist slutty and tiny, abs to die for too — you’d be a liar to say you hadn’t thought about him a few times before bed. katsuki was a king bee (if bees could even have kings) and you were a nobody lucky enough to have been indoctrinated into his group of flawless friends — taken under the guidance of his wing.

your own friends had told you not to fall for the glitz and the glamour that seemed to follow the barbie blonde everywhere he went. but you couldn’t help it, you were enamoured by everything that katsuki did — turned a blind eye to his bitchy persona and twisted mindset. you hardly believed the rumours about him, blissfully ignoring the truth behind the gossip because katsuki was nice to you. just the other night he had been kind enough to offer his help in setting you up with shouto. even if kirishima had tattle told on you.

regardless, katsuki had your back — you knew that. he was even talking to shouto right now, admist the full swing of the halloween party. how could anyone ever hate bakugou? he was so kind, so considerate, treating you like family from the moment you got here. you see shouto look your way fondly as they chatter about you, his lips curling perfectly around your name while he sends you a wave that makes you feel like the only girl in the world.

“she likes you, yanno.” the shorter blonde purrs, the corner of his perfectly plump lips twitching up into a knowing grin. he says your name, glowering at the way his ex perks up at the mention.

shouto blinks slow, mismatched eyes filling with affection the longer he looks at you awkwardly swaying to music you’ve never heard before. “yeah? she does?”

“it’s adorable, really. she writes your fuckin’ name in the corner of her notes with little hearts. even has the name of your future brats written in a cute little list.” the lie slips from bakugou easily, as if manipulating people is second nature to him.

“don’t bother with that, katsuki.”

when todoroki’s gaze on you lingers for too long, he kicks it up a notch pressing the head of his body into his ex’s side. “listen, half ‘n half,” with his eyes dark and sensual, the blonde allows his voice to slip into deeper, more mocking tones — playing up this innocent act. one that shouto falls for every time. “i know that she can be a little fuckin’ weird but, she’s my friend…so be nice, yeah?”

men are such fickle creatures — for all it takes is a pair of sweltering, red puppy dog eyes to drag the jock under his spell. shouto nods slowly, his own topaz and granite eyes glossing over with some form of obedience, a loyalty to bakugou that no one else would understand. “yeah, alright.”

“good,” bakugou purrs, the sound causing his brain to short circuit. “such’a good friend, half ‘n half.” the tail end of his words are replaced by the sloppy sound effect of his lips on shouto’s, tongues beginning to clash and hands possessively gripping waists.

your rose-tinted window shatters at the sight.

background conversation falls away as your friend and your crush begin to make out right in front of your fucking eyes. “you know who’s looking fine tonight, neito monoma.” kaminari squeals, shimmying in his little mouse costume.

“denki, that’s your cousin.” kirishima frowns.

the blonde shrugs. “yeah! but he’s my first cousin…that’s not right is it,”

you don’t have time to dwell on their chit chat — you feel like someone has thrown your entire body out of whack. you feel like you’re drowning as the realisation hits, katsuki bakugou doesn’t give a shit about you or your feelings. storming away from the scene, you make for the nearest bedroom, hurt and confusion swirling around in the tightness of your chest.

“what are you doin’ in here sweetness? ‘minari and kirishima have been looking everywhere for ya.”

you’re still crying like a sore loser when the king of the plastics finds you hauled up in one of shouto’s many rooms. and you hate that it’s katsuki who’s come to comfort you, sitting beside you on the queen sized bed as his hand slips over your bare thigh.

but you shrug him off, barely keeping your cool. after all, you’re still mad at him for making out with your crush. “don’t touch me, katsuki.” you snarl, doing your best to sound menacing. “i saw what you did. how could you? i thought we were friends?”

he clicks his tongue, ruby red eyes rolling as if he gives a fuck. “oh, you mean that thing with icyhot?” you don’t understand how the blonde can be so nonchalant, tossing around the situation as if it weighs nothing — costing not an ounce of your feelings. “he came onto me, sweetness. i’d never do somethin’ like that to you.”

denying katsuki bakugou is never an easy feat, he’s a man that knows where his strengths lie. in the deep timber of his rumbling voice and those eyes, with the blood lust curled around each of his pupils. katsuki is a well trained hunter, and on this occasion, you are his prey. a large hand smooths over the meaty swell of your trembling thigh, pushing the likely pair wide open for him to make room between them. “i’m a good friend, r’member?”

his hands roam your blistering hot body, gripping and grabbing at your flesh from over your costume — it feels good, you feel wanted and melt like a lump of butter in a pan at every cascading touch of his.

you’d be smart to come to your senses, before you’re snapped up in the unrelenting jaws of a hunter. but you’re entranced by those insanely red eyes, the perfect slant to his lips and all-knowing smile — it’d be useless to escape when you’ve fallen this deep. “you’re not…” your bottom lip wobbles, the achy feeling in your chest now submissive to the liquid lust katsuki has spent months conditioning you to feel. “you’re a bad friend.”

“d’aw…you don’t think i am?” dropping his tone into a sultry coo, bakugou leans in real close and you instinctively follow the tilt of his head. he looms over you, just enough so that you can see the smear of pink eyeshadow across his eyelids, the plasticky glisten of lip gloss masking the true colour of his plump lips, along with the spark of lust swirling through the brown flecks in his eyes.

you shake your head no. “no, you’re not.” big mistake.

the of temperature of the room rises just from his proximity and you find yourself willing to let the king of the plastics swallow you whole. “i don’t think i like the way yer talkin’ to me, sweets.” he growls darkly and in warning. “i should make you apologise for bein’ so fuckin’ mean.”

his breath is warm and wet against your cheek, grip rough on your waist and you can’t help but think how mean he is to you. katsuki gaslights you like it’s second nature or another one of his five senses, manipulates you with ease, putting himself on you when you know you can’t say no. because without him you would have been in social suicide, you wouldn’t have any friends, you wouldn’t have had the college experience. you would have just been ordinary.

“gimme a kiss, gorgeous.” the blonde bites down on your lower tip, tugging it away from you because he misses the metallic taste of golden blood on you — the taste of blossoming obedience in your bloodstream.

you push back, but it’s no use — bakugou’s closing the gap before your brain can even catch up, fizzing like candied pop rocks while you sink further into debauchery.

“c’mon…” he forces his tongue past the seams of your lips, bursting through with only the darkest of intentions. you briefly seize up, because your body knows this isn’t what you want, at least not 100%. but katsuki knows how to work stubborn, prude little things like you — squeezing down on your waist heartily as he leads you into a stupid-drunk kiss. “that’s it, there we go…good fuckin’ girl.”

the world tilts on its axis and you grow lightheaded at the blonde’s praise — you should be mad at him for kissing your crush but at the same time, you’ve never wanted someone so bad. mewling against his watermelon and alcohol flavoured lips is like sealing your fate, giving up little pieces of yourself just to appease your ring leader.

“katsuki, i don’t—“

his thumb digs into your cheeks, preventing you from pulling away �� not that you’d want to. wet sounds from your kisses vibrate through you and cause a twinge in the heartbeat between your thighs. “i wasn’t askin’, i was tellin’.” he grunts into your drooling mouth, wide open to echo your sweet and pliant voice. it’s with those words that you remember your place, being a plastic requires sacrifices — for you to give up pieces of yourself in order to stay by katsuki’s side.

including letting him use your mind, body and soul freely.

“so fuckin’ pretty when you’re obedient for me,” he’s snarls, hot under the collar and eager to steal more from you. he grins at how your eyes roll back just from a couple of half-hearted words. leaning back, katsuki shrugs off his shirt, revealing his perfectly carved hips and washboard abs, golden skin that only the gods could have blessed him with. the sight of him is enough to make your quivering cunt deep juices into the crotch of your panties. “let’s get back at sho, huh? for playin’ us both.”

the lines of morality and dissoluteness are often blurred when you’re with him — you become a vessel for his pleasure and you don’t even think to mind. somewhere amidst the messy, sensual lip locks bated breaths, katsuki has managed to get you onto your back and tear through your skimpy little halloween costume to suck his claim into your neck. painting you with deep mauve and midnight blue hues. his eyes dilate, roaring obsidian black taking over his mean, rage filled red eyes in a way that lets you know how bad he wants to fuck you.

it’s when the sharp edges of his canines graze your pulse point that you remember just how much of a wild jungle college is. you remember that katsuki has the ability to make your life a living hell, the power to take a bite and rip your throat out at any second. in this world, you are nothing but a meek gazelle and katsuki bakugou the lion ready for a feast.

irrespective of how much the very fact may frighten you, you ignore bakugou’s talons as they sink into your chest and leave indented crescent moons on against each breast. he rips apart the costume you worked so hard on and pushes your hands away from your body when you attempt to cover yourself up. so, from that moment, you let lust slither over your brain so you can arch yourself into him for more pleasure, and remind yourself that even if you're being used — it feels good. katsuki feels good.

you like that he’s a little mean, a mean girl. all teeth and tongue and biting when he licks into you and breaks the strings of honey saliva that tie your tongue to the roof of your mouth. you love how he roughly grabs you by the meat at your hips and tugs you up to meet the grind of his cock against your underwear. you adore how he pulls the very fabric apart like they’re nothing, rolling you onto your stomach and positioning your hips in a way that makes your back arch.

you don’t even realised that bakugou has kicked off the lower part of his costume until you feel the heat of his firm thighs against the backs of your own and the sticky tap of his flushed cockhead on your ass cheeks — smearing white globs of precum over your hot skin. the blonde groans at the visible twitch of your cunt, the way it glistens and spews lightly for him.

“oh sweetheart,” he laughs through the coagulated feeling of prurience in his throat. “so fuckin’ wet for me, hah?” he manages, spreading your ass cheeks apart hungrily, a curious finger running through your slick folds and dragging your wetness over your pulsating clit. “s’kinda embarrassing. barely even touched you.”

the situation is embarrassing, humiliating almost and a fresh set of tears burn at your waterline — mascaras already tracking down your cheeks. you don’t fight bakugou as a muscled arm snakes it’s way around your waist and pulls you onto him until your sex is flush against bakugou’s thick cock — your hearts beating in sync, heavy breathing in tune. his dripping dick slips and slides a through your quivering pussy lips, grinding against the pulse in your clit before easing the mushroomed tip through the tight ring at your entrance.

“f-fuck!” you squeak, a little out of turn. fuckdolls don’t talk. katsuki is quick to growl and remind you, collapsing his entire weight into your body while you take him with ease. no prep required whatsoever. there’s a delicious burn as his girth stretches you wide open and he fucks you with just the tip — a pleasing buzz layering itself over your logical thoughts. the ones that tell you this isn’t right. the ones that tell you that you’re more than just a plastic play thing.

bakugou squeezes your hips harshly when you push back onto him, desperate to be fed more of his cock. “keep fuckin’ still, alright?” the king of the plastics rasps, taunting you as he thrusts all the way into your tight heat with no warning. you ooze at the sudden stimulation, basking in the weight of his dick against the insides of your crying cunt and fluttering walls. “sho’s gonna love this, maybe he’ll really want you then.” he continues to purr, jamming a thumb past your swollen lips to press down on your tongue. his other hand grasps at his phone once lost in the sheets, talking a picture of your teary face while you suck on his digit to soothe yourself.

like a baby sucking on a pacifier as it cries.

sending the photo to shouto, bakugou takes a few more selfies of you like this. his favourite is the one of your face squished between his large fingers, covered in salty tears and sticky drool. “don’t cry sweets. ‘m gonna fix this, help you get together. what are friends for?”

his voice is soft, nose nudging against your cheek in a reassuring manner.

but it’s all too good to be true.

briefly, there’s a second where everything is calm, where the blonde lets you relax around him between gentle juts of his hips forward and affectionate kisses peppered against your skin. you should have realised that katsuki’s pleasure is always above your own. because he suddenly finds the motivation to pull out of your snug, sensual heat to pound into you properly, dragging is seedy cock along all of the spots along your ribbed walls that make you see stars.

you feel like a pocket pussy, only one that comes with crybaby wails and pitiful hiccuped noises. it’s all music to katsuki’s ears, blending seamlessly with the intense base from the party’s music and thump of the headboard smashing against the wall all from the sheer force of his thrusts into you. it’s easy to forget how humiliatingly loud you’re being, you can’t find yourself to be worried about someone catching you either. even if the door is wide open.

why not? because katsuki claims you willingly, over and over again with each brutish brush of his leaky cockhead against your g-spot. “s-suki! please.” you slur around his fingers that fuck your drooling mouth in perfect rhythm with his dick that plunged in and out of your puckered, creamy hole.

“yeah, yeah. i gotcha. give into me, sweetness.”

where he had been keeping you pinned against the sex-soaked cheeks — bakugou pulls his sweaty chest away from your back and adjusts the roll of his hips, letting them crash into you like waves on a shoreline. to support his body weight above you, his toned arms cage you in, head tilted to the side to watch you sniffle on his dick, red rimming your watery eyeline. “you’re so fuckin’ pretty when you cry, sweetheart.” he moans condescendingly against the shell of your ear, painting a chaste kiss against your wet cheek. “what a pretty fuckin’ girl, suckin’ me in… takin’ my cock. oh fuck.”

if you could see him, will yourself from the pillows you take purchase in and use to muffle your salacious screams — you would notice how an evil smirk as spread across the blonde’s lips while he ravages you, fucks you beyond the stars and back. “you my pretty girl, yeah? fuckin’ sweet thing.” the praise has you spiralling and simultaneously soothes the burning hatred you have for katsuki in your chest. “why you cryin’ so much? is it over him, or over me?”

the answer to his question slips out of you faster than your sex-crazed brain can catch up. “o-over you!” it’s like you can’t even think for yourself, make any choices for your body outside of what bakugou has planned for you. you’d do anything to please him so that he keeps fucking you, so that you can forget your feelings and keep your place amongst the socially elite. maybe that makes you selfish, maybe it makes you dumb — that you’re a whore for katsuki’s bully cock that churns up your guts and uses you for ecstasy filled relief.

“y-yeah? mmhm, just like that baby,” katsuki stutters, licking his lips while you throw it back on him. the weak snap of his voice (caused by you clenching down on him) has you gushing nastily down bakugou’s length. bathing him in your juices, dripping down his balls as they clap against your ass, and swing against your clit.

“yeah…yeah…y-you’re my friend, k-katsuki! didn’t wanna lose you…”

satisfied with your response and feeling a little mean once more, the king of the plastics brings a heavy hand down against your ass before gripping it tight, forcing you back and forth on his creamed dick. you hiss at the newfound pain blooming underneath your skin, blinking back more tears.

“that’s right sweets, you’ll let me do anythin’ to keep me right? stay bein’ friends.” bakugou barks salaciously into your shoulder blade. greed and power and control sparks between your bodies that move in sync with one another, your hips shakily attempting to catch up with his rough pace.

you gasp when he hits a spot that’s got you howling at the moon. “y-yes, god, yes!”

“even let me fuck your crush? let me fuck you in front’a him?”

all you can do is nod and gargle in response, passionately sucking on his fingers. “get ‘em nice and wet for me. wanna play with you, gorgeous.” he nips at your skin, leaving the imprint of his canines against you before his red eyes laser focus on where your bodies continually meet. “lift your hips. atta girl.”

a heinous squeal escapes you, borderline pornographic as katsuki fumbles between your body and shouto’s high thread count sheets. his sticky fingers press into your pleasure nub in tight, calculated circles and he rewards the sound of your choked moans with another barrage of love bites to your neck. ones that you won’t be able to cover up. ones that show how much you’ve been used.

you wonder if his appetite for your dedication will ever be satisfied. even though your pussy works it’s way back onto him and swallows his cock down like fucking magic — bakugou still wants more of you. he grins sinisterly at the bruises that form just under your skin, that make you hiss when he licks over them and spills his curse words over against that sensitive spot underneath your ear. the sensitivity makes you yelp loudly, despite the people that walk by.

including none other than shouto todoroki.

“you’d even let him watch as i creamed your cute cunt, wouldn’t ya? so pathetic. it’s adorable, sweetness.” the blonde goads, pulling back so that he can get a better view of your ass bouncing against his slender hips. spreading you apart with large hands, he drools down onto his cock and your asshole, spitting onto the point at which his shaft slips inside of you — watching the white froth mix in with your viscous nectar and disappear into the creaminess of your tight hole.

your crush audibly gasps as he enters the room — mismatched eyes drinking in the view of you being absolutely wrecked from behind by his ex. shouto can’t help but admire your puffy face and equally puffy folds while he settles on the bed next to katsuki. he has no idea how his feet even carried him there.

“bakugou what are you—?”

the tail end of shouto’s words slip away when you clench down hard on bakugou, his head falling onto the latter’s shoulder while you share shaky moans. “oh my god,” katsuki pants, pulsing against your silken walls and driving his dick upwards into your sweltering mound. “you’re fuckin’ obsessed with me. with him. you just won’t let this dick go, will ya?”

admitting that you like shouto watching you get fucked by bakugou would be just as embarrassing as admitting your crush on him. it doesn’t matter if you’re crying too hard to confess the matter with words, both of them know it. they can tell by the way your pussy spasms around katsuki’s bulbous cockhead as it bullies it’s way into you with every thrust. “see icyhot, told ya she was a weirdo,” He chuckles down at you menacingly. “letting me be the one t’stretch her pussy open even though you’re the one that she wants. s’so embarrassing.”

todoroki let’s out a noncommittal grunt, equally amused by the situation like his ex. “yeah… so weird…”

he reaches around to grab at the fat of your waist and tugs you back onto katsuki so that his dick never leaves you. so that your clit is smooshed up against perfect abs, that contract with every thrust and overstimulate you.

maybe it’s not such a bad thing to be used by the king of the plastics, if it means shouto gets to touch you too.

“i think she’s about to cum, katsuki.” the two-toned haired jock states as if it’s obvious, his voice husky and low as the scent of sex trickles into the air. “you’re gonna make her cum, baby.”

“can fuckin’ feel it, she’s ‘boutta make a mess of me.” they share a lustful look behind you, that leads to them sharing sloppy, uncoordinated kisses as if you’re not even there. truly treating you like a sex toy to be used whenever, wherever.

the sounds of their kisses ring in your ears, cause heat to burn at your cheeks and shame to settle in your chest once again. but this time, you don’t fucking care — not when you’re close to cumming, not when both of the people you adore in your life are using little old you.

forcing you back and forth over katsuki’s dick even faster, shouto finds it in himself to address you, moaning out your name. “a-are you close?” he simpers, tongue rolling over his ex’s.

“i— i am. p-please. let me cum. lemme cum. lemme c-cum—!” you chant as if it’s the gospel, voice tapering off into a set of whistle tone simpers as you finally hit your high. black spots dot your vision, katsuki using a last burst of energy to canter into you, slamming against your g-spot over and over again. the dam breaks before your brain can register it, release trickling out of your fluttering hole like a flash flood after a vicious storm. it soaks his soft tuft of blonde pubes and soils the sheets below, your body wracked with shakes and aftershocks.

katsuki's cock against your cervix being the epicentre.

the two men behind you share a sick little laugh when you collapse into the sheets face first, both of them leaning down to kiss either of your cheeks soothingly.

“so fuckin’ cute ‘n loyal,” bakugou coos in a twisted tone, pulling out of you to jerk himself off over your quivering body.

shouto smiles and rubs soothing circles in the small of your back in an attempt to calm you down — taking pleasure in your tiny sniffles and hiccups while you come down from your high.

“your turn, bakugou.” he purrs slightly, using his arm to prop himself up on the bed for a perfect view of you both.

“mmfuck, shit ‘m so close.” colourful curses spew from between bakugou’s perfect, cherry bitten lips just as he hits his peak. slick sounds accompany the movements of his rough palm up and down his length, coaxing himself towards orgasm. he cums with a shout, a feral growl tearing his chest in two with how loud it is. all while ropes of his blistering hot and white cum land on your ass, pussy and back.

he collapses next to shouto after that.

you feel a finger drag through the hot mess on your back and turn around just in time to watch bakugou feed a scoop of his cum to your crush. todoroki sucking his fingers happily. “go get her a towel, icyhot.” he demands, and like a slave to the crown, todoroki follows — disappearing from the room in search for a rag to clean you up with. surprisingly, the blonde helps you to sit up, taking you into his chest so you can snuggle against it. “don’t cry sweetness, s’okay. i forgive you for thinkin’ i was a bad friend.”

tilting your chin up, you’re rewarded with a firm chaste kiss — swallowing katsuki’s moans as he tastes the saltine tears in your lips. “you’ll never do it again, right?”

“r-right…” you reply meekly, flinching at the blonde who boops your nose almost affectionately.

he busies himself with fixing your costume until shouto returns with a wet rag to wipe the cum from between your thighs and the rest of you. you try not to let it get to you when they share another passionate kiss, sucking on each other’s tongues and mussing up each other’s hair until they’re all rosy cheeked and short of breath.

you would be a fool to think that you ever stood a chance with shouto todoroki after tonight.

much like you, he’s just another piece in katsuki’s game of chess. he’ll never escape the toxic cycle of their relationship when things keep going like this.

“you look sexy with your hair pushed back, icyhot.” katsuki says to shouto once they come up for air, ruffling his silky locks out of place. his ruby, crazed, gaze slinks over to you next, a coy smirk playing at his lips. “sweetness, tell him, icyhot he looks sexy with his hair pushed back.”

katsuki bakugou is terrible. evil. conniving. but he’s all you’ve got, even if he is a mean girl.

“shouto…you look sexy with your hair pushed back.”

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killishin · 1 year ago

Text

JEALOUS

pairing : damian x reader

warning : some jealousy

category : fluff

author's note : okay my exams are over ( for now ) and im writing after like a year so if there's any mistakes , forgive me. Also first time writing damian , or any dc chara so sorry if there's anything wrong. enjoy :)

parties , gathering were never your place and neither his. the league had decided to have a gathering of all heroes and as much as you would rather be in your room sleeping , there's free food here.

that's the reason you tell everyone.

If you were being honest , you still weren't gonna come but a certain recent argument with Damian , your oh so understanding boyfriend , had you in a mood of mischief. You wanted to do something to annoy him , as childish as it sounds for someone who has the status of hero , you just had to.

Initially both of you had decided not to go but then just today morning you told him you were going. you laugh when you remember the disbelief that was on his face.

" Fine. Go. " was all he said back then and you thought that would be it. He would be sulking away in his own solitude.

But he came , with that same brooding face which for a moment melted away when he met your eyes , when he saw you looking absolutely gorgeous , but it was quickly replaced by a scowl when he saw you smirking.

You knew how much he hated crowds so having him go through one was utmost peak revenge.

( he has a huge soft spot for you but he wasn't gonna concede so easily. )

He saw you the whole night talking away , laughing with your friends and the strangers that approached you. He saw how everyone hung onto every word you said and get lost in the spark in your eyes , just like he did.

" Trouble in paradise?" Jon said and smirked when Damian ignored him. Jon saw how he was glaring daggers on the people talking to you.

It was simply comical to him how big of a hold you have on Damian. So he decided to just tease. just a little.

" Oh boy did you see the way the guy laughed?? He's totally trying on her. Is it just me or is he inching towards her?? Man you gotta do something or he'll take awa-"

And that was enough to set off Damian as put down his glass on the bar and went striding off to where you were , leaving Jon smirking wide.

You were enjoying your conversation with the new people you met , but you can't lie it was getting tiring now. Your social battery was running out and maybe right now all you need is a quiet corner and him. Just the bliss of his presence.

And thankfully, you were rescued.

Damian came right in the middle of the conversation, put his hand on your lower back gently before looking at everyone else with his usual glare, although you swear you could see the anger in his eyes.

" I apologise but we need to be somewhere. " He said and started directing you away from the crowd but he stopped in between and glanced back at the guy who was hitting on you.

" Back off , 's all I'll say." His voice held a warning that only an idiot would miss and your eyes slightly widened at his outburst.

But when your eyes met with Jon who was reeling from the scenario , you joined the dots.

( OH JACKPOT )

Damian directed you in a quiet corner outside , away from prying eyes and voices. He let go of you and looked off in a distance , his brows furrowed and his upset eyes looking anywhere else but you.

maybe this was too much.

You realised in your childishness you may have actually upset your man.

You gently pulled him by his arm and made him look at you. It was like a little angry puppy looking at you and you could just die from the cuteness aggression.

" Are you mad at me?" you asked with a small smile. He scoffed and looked away again.

" No why would i be?"

" Cause you were jealous."

" I was not. "

" I never took you for the jealous type you know."

" I said i was not jealous."

You laughed and gently held his face in your hands. aww now he really looks like a puppy.

" I'm sorry if i upset you. It wasn't my intention to make you jealous."

" But it was your intention to come to the party."

" That. "

You laughed guiltily and wrapped your arms around his neck.

" Okay yeah obviously that was my intention. But you weren't talking to me at all during missions , and it just made me a bit.... annoyed. So i had to do something to make you talk." you justified, knowing you could have just maturely had a conversation with him about the argument in private.

" ....And annoy you."

you looked down in guilt but then you heard him laughing heartily. You looked up in surprise. The sight not only rare , but it melts you away. It was the most cutest thing ever , the way his face lit up , the way his lips stay in a beautiful smile.

He took a hold of your chin and pulled you close.

" If you wanted attention, "

He kissed your lips slow , his tongue exploring your mouth as his hands went from your chin to your hips , pulling you even more close. You could sense the hint of sass coming as he teased you by gently nibbling on your lower lip. He pulled away , looking at your lips , then your eyes and that shit eating grin on his face.

" You could have just asked. "

reblogs and likes are appreciated :)

#damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x y/n #dc x you #dc x reader #batfam x reader #batfam x you

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idkwhatever580 · 9 months ago

Text

Always remember the things she said

Masterlist

Based on the song “as good a reason” by Paris Paloma (the girl who wrote “labor”)

Pairings: Natasha romanoff x reader | Wanda maximoff x reader!platonic\older sister vibes | Wanda maximoff x Natasha romanoff!platonic\older sister vibes again

Prompt: two occasions happen where Natasha and y/n give their sisterly advice to Wanda, and she’s the first one to connect the dots.

Warnings: swearing, songfic

A/N: guys I love a good songfic. this is giving me life right now btw. I’m living for this song.

Here’s the song if you want to listen. It’s not important that you hear it but it’s soooo good

Wanda and Pietro just joined the team.

Of course Pietro was busy recovering from almost bleeding out, and Wanda was getting tested for her abilities.

After most of the screenings were done she was pretty tired. And you were there to help her settle in.

You went with her to the party that night since Tony used their presence as a good reason to celebrate.

Wanda had sat next to you the whole night almost as you were elegant and beautiful in your own right. And you knew it. Suddenly she speaks up after not having said much more than a peep all night.

“You really know what you’re doing.”

“Hm?”

“I mean. You look like you love yourself so much and it’s attractive to everyone. It draws eyes towards you. The way you carry yourself”

You smile and thank her and nod your head.

“I didn’t always know how to own the room.”

She turns her head and says

“When did you change? Or become like this?”

You smile and say

“Can I tell you a story?”

She nods interested now.

You sit back as you recall that fateful night.

“One night. I was at a party not unlike this one.”

Wanda nods along and you start

“I met a woman with lips so red. A face so lined like spider webs. I’ll always remember the things she said. They were so wise, she opened my eyes and they’ll never close again.”

Wanda asked

“What’d she say? What did she do?”

You smile at her innocence and intrigue

“Oh how she sighed when she stubbed her cigarette. I felt compelled to enquirer of her success. ‘How do you do, how can you be so in love with yourself? Tell me please cause I need help’”

I smile at my youthful innocence and say

“I was just like you in that moment I guess. Which is why I’m telling you this story.”

Wanda is already on the edge of her seat.

“She said… ‘Every time you are succeeding there’s an old man somewhere seething, and spite’s as good a reason to take his power. When you hate the body you are in, oh love, you’re acting just for him as he counts his gold and green in his ivory tower.’”

I take a sip of my drink and say

“I was being manipulated by one of my exes. And she helped me realize I didn’t even like him and I freed myself from his grasp with her help. ‘Our fear it lines his pockets love, so take that rage and bottle up and put a drop into his cup of wine. You don’t need him you don’t need me. With that poisoned bottle you’ll be free, but be damn sure you don’t mix it up with mine.’”

I smile at Wanda’s face. She’s incredibly sweet.

“What happened to the woman?”

I chuckle and say

“Well, I did exactly what she said not to do”

Wanda furrows her eyebrows and says

“What? But you’re doing what she said to do right now yes?”

I smile and say

“Partially. See. The first part I listened to yes. But the second part. I didn’t listen so good.”

Wanda tilts her head slightly and says

“What did you do?”

“I mixed my poison with hers. But not in the way you might think. I simply fell in love with her”

Her eyes widen and she’s on the edge of her seat

“What happened to her though?”

I smile and say

“We got married.”

Wanda looks shocked and she says

“You’re married?!”

I hush her and say

“Yes but not many people know. It’s to keep her safe in a way. Being an avenger is risky. I wouldn’t want the love of my life to get hurt now would I?”

Wanda shakes her head and we continue on with the night without another question.

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

Wanda has been with the avengers for a few months now and she’s been adjusting perfectly.

She is like family to them and she is at a gala sitting next to Natasha. You were drug off by Tony to talk to people. And to pass the time Wanda says

“Tell me a story.”

Natasha raises a brow and says

“A story?”

Wanda nods her head and says

“Like. Something that has happened to you that you’ve never told someone. That has a meaning behind it I guess. I guess what I’m asking is tell me a story and give me advice as well”

Natasha smiles when she pictures the perfect memory in her head.

“I’ve got a story. A few years ago I was at a party.”

Wanda nods along

“I met a young girl with eyes so bright. She was already getting sick of life. She had this boy who was controlling her basically. Her arms were laden with his merchandise. She asked me why I no longer try and waste my time and I said ‘spite’”

With a smirk Natasha continues

“I said… ‘Cause every time you are succeeding. There’s an old man somewhere seething, and spite’s as good a reason to take his power. When you hate the body you are in, oh love, you’re acting just for him as he counts his gold and green in his ivory tower.”

Wanda furrows her eyebrows as she recognizes those words.

“‘Our fear it lines his pockets love so take that rage and bottle up and put a drop into his cup. You don’t need him you don’t need me, with that poisoned bottle you’ll be free, but be damn sure you don’t mix it up with mine.”

Wanda mumbles the last words trying to recall where she had heard it before

“Be damn sure you don’t mix it up with mine”

When she makes the connection she says

“And then you ended up marrying her!”

Natasha furrows her eyebrows in shock and she says in a hushed tone

“How did you know that?”

Wanda responds

“She told me”

“Y/n told you that we’re married? We agreed to not tell anyone without each others consent.”

Wanda shakes her head.

“She told me her point of view of that exact moment and said ‘I met a woman with lips so red. Always remember the things she said’ and I remembered that she said that she married the woman but she didn’t tell me anything else. And I put two and two together and boom baby!”

Natasha smiles and says

“You’re the first person to figure it out. It’s funny because I told her not to mix our poisons and we did”

Wanda smiles and says

“I think you work well together. Like your poisons complement each others.”

Natasha smiles and says

“Thank you. And good job at remembering the woman’s words”

She smirks and Wanda giggles.

You finally break free from the people talking to you and you immediately make your way over to Natasha and Wanda and say

“Up to no good?”

Nat turns around and says

“Actually. Wanda has something she’d like to tell you”

You look at her waiting for her to say it and she gets all shy

“Um. I know who the woman with lips so red is”

Your eyebrows raise in surprise and you say

“Nat? Did you tell her?”

Nat shakes her head and she says

“She figured it out all by herself. She’s a smart one”

You nod your head and say

“I always knew she was smarter than she let on. Congrats on being the first to find out.”

Wanda nods her head and she says

“You shouldn’t hide it. I think you would be New Yorks top power couple”

You sigh and say

“It’s for our own protection. If we were to let that out someone might use us against the other”

Wanda nods and says

“But you have each other. You know you’ll come for each other. You know every avenger would drop everything to help you”

I nod and say

“You’re right. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad to soft launch”

Nat smiles and says

“Let’s do it”

I grab my ring from my necklace that keeps it there and I put it on my finger. As does Natasha and Wanda smiles and claps excitedly

“I feel like a proud sister!”

I smile and say

“Good. You are our sister.”

She smiles and says

“Slay”

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

Taglist

@ilovesnat @ihartnat @marvelnatasha12346 @moistblobfish @justarandomreaderxoxo

#natasha romanoff #fanfic #marvel #avengers #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha x reader #fanfiction #black widow #mcu #wanda maximoff

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medusas-daughter · 4 months ago

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When I think about it, Billy kinda gave the coven a canvas and the entire coven contributed to build the road we have at the end and I think that's kinda beautiful in a way.

Like .. Agatha had more control than the others and actually set up the rules because she had the knowledge that the road was being built by Billy's subconscious this entire time and because she co-wrote the Ballad in the first place but all of them contributed to it to some extent because Billy was soaking up everything all of them were saying.

Both because he is a telepath (so the road adds the knowledge of the other witches like alewife revenge) and because he agrees with them on what the road should be like: Lilia is the one who suggests they have to face theirs worst nightmares, Jen explains to Billy what a Green Witch does and that's how the last trial is about growth. The entire coven (except Agatha) agrees they can't cheat so they can't cheat and they all think the Green witch is indispensable (I think Jen is the one who says it first before the road).

Also Nicky is part of the creation of the road too without even being there !

Also the fact that Billy's subconsciously thought Agatha's worst nightmares was to put her in a 80s sleepover is kinda funny if I'm being honest.

The more I think about it, the more fun the twist become honestly.

I'm so sorry for the rant, I love your blog 💜

thank you so much for this please feel free to rant here anytime you want 💜

and you're so right they really did all contribute! even Mrs Hart contributed, she mentioned the old transportation system and the exit became an abandoned subway station

i think that's why Agatha panicked during the first trial and right before the last because she realized that she can't control every thing not even if she tries to manipulate him because he has his own beliefs and then he looks up to the other witches as well so they influence him just as much

Agatha's hallucination being the Darkhold in a baby craddle which has nothing to do with how Nicky died but is exacthy what Jen mentioned is also so brilliant, because he couldn't read Agatha's mind to figure out her worst nightmare so he just went with what Jen said

and putting Agatha, the most antisocial witch he's ever met, in a slumber party was hilarious he really said "punish Agatha" and meant it

it was so much fun rewatching after knowing the twist Lilia called the Road a death trap so every trial was a literal death trap Jen said the green witch is indispensable so when Rio leaves he says "we're right back at the beginning" and they immediately trip on their shoes right back at the beginning he says "I wish Lilia was here" and she just falls out the bookshelf like all these little moments became so much funnier poor guy was really making it up on the spot

and the way both Nicholas and Wanda were haunting the whole thing, Nicky with his song being the catalyst and Wanda with her magic creating it was so bittersweet

i'll admit when i first read this theory after like the first trial i hated it i thought it would be a cheap remake of "oh no a Maximoff is creating a fake reality again" but they managed to make it super fun and exciting and i love it now!

#agatha harkness #agatha all along #billy maximoff #lilia calderu #jennifer kale #rio vidal #nicholas scratch #wanda maximoff #anon #anon ask #medusasdaughter answers

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alwaysmicado · 5 months ago

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Hi Love!!, love your works! Do you have your request open? Or if you just open to my insecurity talk🫣😅, well i’m curious about your take on reader’s insecurity on their boobs *shocking* by their real life’s average size theirs are bigger (that’s the first insecurity) and by the online’s appearance (like how social media and corn looked to them) theirs are just not the type that is appealing (in their opinion) well if it’s too much i’m sorry and the world is still going on and the sun is still shinning if they’re just accept it is what it is. I love your works, have i said that? I’ll say it again, im justt ugh im loving it to the point of i need to consume it everyday, and i love you thanks for your masterpieces!!

Anon, I’m kissing your forehead and holding you close 🤍🫂 Thank you so much for your support! I’ve had my fair share of body image issues, so I get it, BUT I want you to know that you’re beautiful, your boobs are amazing just the way they are, and there’s zero reason to feel insecure.

Your body is part of what makes you, you—and that is wonderful.

In His Eyes

1.8k | Dieter Bravo x f!reader | 18+

Warnings: insecure!reader, fluff, sweet!Dieter, sex talk A/N: My mind went straight to Dieter somehow...he just strikes me as a tits guy. Happy reading! 🤍

The glitzy world of Hollywood feels like another universe, a place where everyone is unnaturally beautiful, perfectly polished, and always on display.

Ever since you started dating Dieter, that world has been closer than you ever expected it to be. It’s like being constantly thrown into the deep end of a pool you didn’t even want to swim in, surrounded by model-like women who make you feel smaller by comparison.

It’s not that Dieter makes you feel this way—he’s actually a lot more down-to-earth than you’d expected for someone who is, well, Dieter Bravo. But the groupies, the social media influencers, the actresses at those Hollywood parties—they make you feel it.

Like no matter how much Dieter is into you, there’s always going to be someone thinner, prettier, younger, with smoother skin and...nicer tits.

You’ve always hated yours.

They’re big, heavy, not the gravity-defying, perky kind you see on social media or in porn. There’s some sag, stretch marks that remind you they’re real, but not what’s considered “ideal.” Dieter’s never said anything about it, but lately, it’s all you can think about. Every time you see him surrounded by those women, it gnaws at you, leaving a pit of insecurity in your stomach.

You’re sitting on the couch in his apartment, your phone clutched in your hand as you scroll through Instagram, heart sinking with every photo you see. Dieter’s out at some event—another movie premiere, another round of beautiful people all posing for the camera. You hadn’t felt like going tonight, too overwhelmed by your own self-doubt to put on a dress and act like you belonged in that world.

You try to shake the feeling off, but it lingers, wrapping around you like a heavy blanket. Why does he even like me? you wonder, staring at a picture of some model with a perfect hourglass figure. What’s stopping him from being with someone like her?

The door opens, and Dieter steps in, still looking devastatingly handsome in his suit, his tie slightly loosened, a lazy smile on his face.

“Hey, babe,” he calls out, kicking off his shoes as he makes his way over to you. “You should’ve come. It was a circus, but the drinks were free, so...you know, could’ve been worse.”

You force a smile, closing out of Instagram and setting your phone down. “Yeah, I just wasn’t feeling it tonight. I’m glad you had a good time, though.”

Dieter pauses, eyeing you for a moment before plopping down on the couch beside you. “You’ve been ‘not feeling it’ a lot lately. Something wrong?”

You shrug, trying to play it off. “Just...stuff. It’s nothing.”

“Come on, don’t give me that,” he says, nudging you with his elbow, that familiar grin on his face. “You think I don’t notice when something’s up? You’ve been avoiding these events like the plague, and now you’re sitting here in the dark. That’s not you.”

You bite your lip, debating whether to brush it off or tell him the truth. Dieter’s easygoing, playful, not the kind of guy who dives into serious conversations. But he’s also observant, and you know he won’t let it go.

“I just...” you begin, taking a deep breath. “I’ve been feeling a little insecure lately.”

Dieter’s grin falters, his brow furrowing slightly. “Insecure about what?”

You hesitate, your heart pounding. “About...me. My body. My boobs.”

There’s a beat of silence, and you feel the words hanging heavily in the air. You brace yourself for whatever reaction might come, but Dieter just blinks at you, as if waiting for you to elaborate.

“You’re constantly around these beautiful women,” you explain, your voice quieter now. “These perfect, gorgeous actresses and models and whatnot...and yeah, sometimes I feel like garbage compared to them. Especially...I mean, my tits aren’t...”

You trail off, not sure how to finish the sentence. You expect Dieter to brush it off, to laugh it away or make a joke. But instead, he shifts, turning to face you fully, his expression surprisingly serious for once.

“Wait, wait, hold on,” he says, holding up a hand. “You’re feeling insecure because of them? Because of all those...what? Barely legal models and influencers who’ve already had ten plastic surgeries by the time they turned eighteen? Babe, they’re literally paid to look like that. That’s their whole deal—selling a fantasy. It’s not real.”

You glance down, feeling the weight of your insecurities pressing down on you again. “I know, but it doesn’t make it easier when it’s all I see here. I just...I can’t stop thinking that one day you’ll realize you could be with someone like that instead of...me.”

Dieter stares at you for a second, then lets out a soft, disbelieving laugh. “Are you kidding me?”

Your stomach twists, and you can’t help but wince. “No, I’m not kidding. This isn’t funny to me.”

“Okay, no, I’m sorry.” He reaches out, grabbing your hands, his grip warm and grounding. “I get that you’re serious. But you’ve got this all wrong.”

You frown, unsure of what he means, but Dieter leans in, his dark eyes locking onto yours, his voice lower and softer now. “You think I’m into you despite how you look? You think I’m sitting here going, ‘Well, I guess I’ll settle for her, even though there’s all these other women’? That’s not how this works, babe.”

You blink, taken aback by his sudden intensity. “Yeah, but all your exes had–”

“Let me be crystal clear,” he interrupts, squeezing your hands a little tighter. “I’m with you because I wanna be with you. And that includes your smart mouth, your amazing brain, and your beautiful body. Every part of it.”

Your cheeks heat up, but you still can’t shake the doubt. “But my boobs–”

“Are fucking perfect,” he cuts in, his eyes flicking down to your chest before meeting your gaze again. “Jesus, how many boners do you need to give me just from existing in the same vicinity as me before you start to believe it?”

You can’t help the incredulous laugh that escapes you. “You’re a dork.”

Dieter lets go of your hands and moves closer, his fingers sliding up to gently cup your face. “I may very well be, but I’m also serious. Look at me.” He waits until your eyes meet his again, his voice steady and insistent. “I’m a shallow, sex-obsessed, movie star, right? If I wasn’t into every inch of you, why the hell would I still be here?”

You crack a smile at his self-deprecation, but the weight of your insecurities still lingers. “I dunno. Maybe you love other parts of me and take the bad with the good?”

Dieter groans softly, leaning against the couch, his hands dropping to your waist. “You don’t really believe that, do you? And, okay, you want me to be brutally honest?”

You nod, unsure but curious.

He smiles, his fingers grazing your waist as he speaks. “Every time you walk into a room, the first thing I notice? Your beautiful face, your radiance, how you light up the whole damn place with your presence. It’s like you pull all the air out of the room, and suddenly, there’s just you.”

“Oh, stop it…”

“I’m serious,” he insists, his eyes locked on yours, a smirk tugging on his lips. “And then, a millisecond after that? Your tits.”

You chuckle, rolling your eyes. “Of course.”

“They’re amazing. Like, out-of-this-world amazing. They’re real, and soft, and they’re part of you. And trust me when I say, I’m not looking at anyone else. Not like that.”

His words are sinking in, but part of you still struggles to believe it. Unfortunately, the insecurities you’ve harbored for so long won’t just vanish with a few compliments, no matter how sweet they are.

“But I’m…never gonna look like the rest of your…friends or whatever. And it makes me feel like an outsider,” you say a little quieter now. “And I know you love me, and I know I’m too old to feel this way, I know, but I just…do.”

“Why would you want to look like them, though?” he asks, genuine confusion in his voice.

“Um, what kind of question is that?” you ask incredulously. “Because they’re beautiful and successful and–”

“Fake,” Dieter interrupts bluntly, cutting you off without hesitation. “Airbrushed, filtered, and half of them are so miserable they can’t go to sleep without a cocktail of Percocet and vodka knocking them out. Trust me, I know.” He’s serious now, the playful tone gone. “Their lives? Their bodies? None of it is real. It’s smoke and mirrors, and it’s fucked up that it’s sold as something desirable.”

You open your mouth to say something, but he doesn’t let you. His hands move up, resting just below your ribcage, his gaze unwavering as he speaks.

“You’re real, babe. That’s what I want. I’m not interested in some blow-up doll version of a person. And even if I used to be into that, or if that’s what other people want—so what?” He leans in closer, the look in his big, warm puppy eyes making your heart race, clouding your senses. “I’m with you now. Because I want you. Because you’re the one that gets me out of bed in the morning and keeps me up at night.”

“Thank you, Dee,” you whisper, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his lips, your heart swelling. You wrap your arms around him tightly, nuzzling your face into the crook of his neck. His familiar scent and warmth surround you, comforting you in ways words alone can’t. His hands find their way to your back, gently rubbing, soothing.

For a moment, everything is quiet, just the sound of his steady breathing against your ear. At last, your mind is calm.

“You know I’m constantly daydreaming about your tits, right?” Dieter murmurs suddenly, catching you off guard like only he can. “Playing with them for hours on end, burying my face in them, licking them, sucking on them…pressing them together and fucking them. Or just watching them bounce while you’re on top of me.”

You laugh softly, shaking your head at how shameless he is, but your body responds to every word. “Dee…”

“It’s bad, okay? Can’t even really jerk off to porn anymore…I think you broke my brain, babe.”

You chuckle and pull back just enough to look into his eyes. “Be careful, or I might just start believing you.”

“Yeah?” he grins, his hands never leaving your body.

“Yeah.” You bite your lip, feeling the heat rising between you. “But I think I might need a little more..convincing.”

----- Thank you for reading! 🤍 Masterlist | inbox

#inbox #lovely anon <3 #dieter bravo x f!reader #dieter bravo x you #dieter bravo x reader #dieter bravo #pedro pascal characters #dieter bravo fanfic #dieter bravo fluff #fluff #dieter bravo the bubble

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spideyson-stuff · 1 month ago

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Look, I know you guys are here to see IronDad and SpiderSon happiness but...

This will be PURE HATE for how Tony acted towards Peter from his first appearance until the end of Homecoming

FUCK! TONY ARE YOU CRAZY????

He LITERALLY broke into a 14 year old boy's address and went to his house to recruit him for a mission when things got tough for his team? damn man it's NOT NORMAL

And honestly I don't care about "the whole context of the movie" IT'S FUCKING WEIRD

How DARE he enter someone's house, show a video of the person being a superhero and say something like "I know who you are" and hope that this person agrees to help him???

And after all, he still gets mad when the 15 YEAR OLD BOY HE RECRUITED acts recklessly as A TEENAGER DOES???, who does he think he is? he's really mad at Peter for trying to HELP PEOPLE???

And don't even get me started on how he ignored this kid's existence after he "served his purpose" in Civil War, it's like Peter was just an object he used to complete something and then discarded???, I don't care if he gave him the suit, Spider-Man existed before this shit he can exist without it too!

"If you're nothing without the suit you shouldn't have it" BITCH PLEASE, said the guy who has more than 50 suits and COUNTING, because he does it like he's an addict, and you think you have the MORAL AUTHORITY to say something?

At least Peter didn't expose his identity of one's own free will, at least Peter didn't have a drunken party talking shit and wearing the suit he made to FIGHT CRIME, or expose his own address on national television because he was angry at someone and wanted to take matters into his own hands, like CERTAIN PEOPLE, RIGHT TONY!?

Honestly Peter is much better than me because I would have already cursed even the 10th generation of this man and punched him right in the nose in the first time he screamed at me

With all this, I love IronDad but Tony Stark makes me SICK

#NOT IronDad and SpiderSon #tony stark #spider man #peter parker #spiderman

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aleskie · 5 months ago

Text

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐏𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄: 𝐃𝐞𝐬𝐢𝐠𝐧𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐃𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫 SUMMARY: On a night out with friends, Mila meets a cute guy with a cute face and a cute accent. Ice to Meet You Masterlist Next

Word Count: 2.9k Warnings: Swearing, Drinking, Mentions of a toxic family but nothing detailed, Dialogue

It was weird being back in New York after all these years. When she left for Boston at thirteen, she never imagined she’d come back. Boston was lonely, yes, but loneliness was better than her mother’s constant noise. It was better than her father’s cold silence. It was better than her brothers’ unending teasing. And sure, training was brutal—cold and unforgiving like the ice she skated on—but it was easier than enduring her parents’ endless criticisms or dodging her brothers’ roughhousing.

Now, here she was, back to where it all began. Funny how one phone call could change everything. One moment, she was settled in Boston, content with life and loneliness, and the next, her mother was on the other end of the line, dragging her back to the city she’d grown up in but vowed never to return to.

“You’re attending university,” her mother had said matter-of-factly. “You can’t be the only one in our family not to have gone.”

Mila had refused at first, but her mother had a way of getting what she wanted. A few pulled strings later, and suddenly she was enrolled into the biology program at NYU, her life hastily packed up, and she was moving back to the city she’d once hated.

“I think it’ll do you some good,” Georgi had said, ever the optimist. “Besides, Nicole and I are coming with you! That should make it easier, no?” She didn’t know this yet, but he’d be right, of course.

Georgi wasn’t just her coach. And he wasn’t just some washed up figure skater. In fact, he was one of the best skaters of his time, with all the medals to back it up. For the past eight—no, nine—years, he had been more like a father to her than her own. Nicole, his wife, had filled the role of mother, too. They didn’t have to take her in when she first moved to Boston at thirteen, but they did. And they gave her the home and care her parents never did.

They went to her parent-teacher conferences, helped with her homework, accompanied her to interviews and photoshoots, even taught her how to drink responsibly (and what to do when you didn’t drink responsibly). When it was time to move to New York, they helped her settle into her new apartment, just as they had done so many times before. Maybe it was because she was Georgi’s first and best student—or maybe it was because they saw something in her beyond just skating.

Mila hated to admit it, but Georgi had been right. New York had done her good. For the first time in years, away from the hustle and bustle of competition, she felt like a normal person. Older than most of her class, sure, but she still crammed for tests and pulled all-nighters, she still went to the occasional party and gossiped with friends. She laughed until her stomach hurt, had deep conversations late into the night, and lived more in that one year than she had since she was thirteen—when her life had been an endless loop of eat, sleep, homeschool, train, repeat. A life of just her and the ice.

But life didn’t look like that anymore. Today, she’d submitted her Leave of Absence form in preparation for the 2022 Olympics. And tonight, her friends were throwing her a ‘See You Whenever You’re Free’ party. She never thought she’d have something like this again—friends who cared enough to celebrate her and reassure her that they’d still be there when she came back.

Maybe, just maybe, forcing her to return to New York was the best thing her parents ever did for her.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“But it’s your celebration!” Chloe whined, her voice carrying that mix of insistence and playful frustration. “You can’t not drink at a celebration meant for you!”

Mila smiled as she applied the finishing touches to her makeup. Chloe was adorable—petite, with short, bobbed hair and the widest blue eyes that always seemed to sparkle with mischief. She was persistent, too, and stubborn as they came. They had met during freshman orientation and reconnected in their Molecular and Cell Biology class. Now, they were practically inseparable, sharing late-night study sessions, spontaneous coffee runs, and, apparently, pre-party prep in Mila’s bedroom.

“I’m totally fine just driving you guys around and dancing,” Mila replied, pulling her hair into a loose, casual bun. “Besides, it’s Olympic season and I’d rather not get wasted a few weeks before Worlds.”

“She’s got a point,” Cole chimed in from his spot on the floor, where he was seated cross-legged in front of the full-length mirror. He was one of Georgi’s newer students, but they’d bonded fast. He had that snarky, sassy edge to him—always quick with a sarcastic remark—but underneath it all, Mila knew he was a softie. More bark than bite. “Don’t worry, Clo, I’ll drink for both of us. You’ll still get one drunk figure skater. That count for anything?”

Chloe crossed her arms, narrowing her eyes as if considering. “Hmm… I guess that’ll do. But you,” she said, turning back to Mila with exaggerated drama, “you better win a gold for this. I’ve been slighted, abandoned, betrayed!”

She flopped onto the bed, her small frame making the most of the theatrics. Mila laughed, shaking her head. Chloe could be such a character when she wanted to be.

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Mila said, rolling her eyes with a grin. But as she glanced in the mirror, there was a flicker of something in her gaze—a reminder of the pressure that came with her upcoming season. Worlds. The Olympics. The dreams she had worked her whole life for.

But tonight wasn’t about that. Tonight was about her friends, about being in the moment, about celebrating the life she had outside of skating. Tonight, she would have fun.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

The three of them met up with Michelle when they hit the third bar of the night, a stylish little place tucked away in a narrow alley. It was one of those hidden gems you’d miss if you weren’t looking for it, and of course, it was Michelle’s pick.

Michelle was... well, Mila wasn’t exactly sure how they’d met. She was pretty sure they'd exchanged Instagrams at some party, but after that, it was like Michelle had always been there. She was one of those people who just blended seamlessly into your life without you even realizing it. It wasn’t long before they were hanging out at each other’s places, either studying or swapping stories over cups of coffee. Michelle always had the juiciest gossip and knew all the latest drama around campus—something that never failed to amuse Mila. She was bubbly, funny, and somehow always had the best spots for nights out.

Which explained how they ended up here. In New Jersey. Of all places.

“Guys, I swear, this bar is amazing! It’s super cozy and a little formal! The music is great, and they have this huge dance floor!” Michelle had gushed earlier, her words slurring in that slightly buzzed way of hers. Already a few drinks in, she was babbling about everything and nothing at the same time. Mila had learned not to question Michelle’s wildly contradictory descriptions when she was tipsy. Cozy and formal? Sure. Big enough to dance but still intimate? Why not?

Despite the questionable logic, Mila couldn’t help but smile on the drive over. Michelle’s infectious enthusiasm was part of her charm, after all. Case in point: the way Cole and Chloe, also buzzed, were now chanting the name of the bar as if it were some fantastical destination and not…a bar in New Jersey.

When they walked into the bar—ambience set with dim lighting, plush velvet seating, and a DJ spinning soft beats in the corner—Mila had to admit, Michelle had done it again. The place was the perfect spot for their little night out.

So perfect, in fact, that the night went almost exactly how Mila predicted it would go. The chiller beats and soft atmosphere disappeared at around nine-thirty, replaced with thumping dance music and electro-pop. Her three friends had disappeared on the dance floor, though she was getting sporadic updates on their whereabouts from Michelle—thankfully still grouped together, though each photo was blurrier and each message was more misspelled than the last thanks to their steadily rising intoxication.

And here Mila was, alone at the bar, nursing a diet coke and scrolling through her social media while her friends danced the night away. She didn’t mind, content to be in her own company for a while. And then she felt a presence sit on the stool next to her.

“Hi,” the voice said, low and casual, with a slight accent that caught Mila’s attention. It wasn’t unfriendly, just smooth and easy. Mila glanced up from her phone to find a man leaning against the bar, offering her a kind smile. He was tall and broad, built like a brick wall, with dark, perfectly tousled hair that looked effortlessly stylish. His cool, self-assured air seemed to soften slightly as she met his gaze.

“Um, can I get you something stronger than that?” he asked, nodding toward her barely touched diet coke with a playful grin tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Mila raised an eyebrow, matching his smile with one of her own. “Tempting,” she replied, “but I think I’ll stick with this for now.”

His grin didn’t falter. “Not even one drink? Seems like a shame to waste a night out with just soda.”

“Nahh,” Mila said, her tone light, almost teasing, “I’ve got a long celebration night going on. Gotta stay sharp.”

“Celebration?” he repeated, leaning in slightly as if she had just piqued his interest, “Now you’ve got me curious. What’s the celebration for?”

She paused for a second, still smiling, but now it was her turn to add a little mystery. “Let’s just say…I’ve got a big event coming up that I need to focus on.”

He chuckled, clearly entertained but aware she wasn’t going to spill the details. “Alright, I’ll give you that one,” he said, attempting a wink.

Cute.

“So tell me,” she said, resting her head on her palm, eyes glinting with interest, “What brings a stud like you here tonight?”

He glanced toward a group of young men—some rowdy, some more reserved, sipping beers. “See those guys? They dragged me out,” he replied, scrunching his nose a little, as if this wasn’t his ideal way to spend the night.

“I get that,” Mila chuckled. “I would’ve been wasted by now if I hadn’t practically begged to be the designated driver.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Designated driver? On a night like this? You’re not having any fun at all!”

“I’m having a lot of fun right here,” she said, “I’ve got quite the view.”

“Don’t get too distracted,” he teases, “Do you at least know where your friends are?”

“Oh, y’know,” she gestured vaguely, “dancing their hearts out somewhere. They’re still texting me though, so that’s a good sign. The increasingly blurry pictures? Not so much.”

He chuckles, taking a sip of his drink. “Well, I hope you don’t have to leave too soon. It’d be a shame.”

“And miss out on you telling me where that accent comes from?” Mila shot him a coy smile. “I don’t think so.”

He grinned. “Switzerland. Moved here for work.”

“Switzerland? Nice.” She tilted her head, intrigued. “What kind of work brings someone from Switzerland all the way to Jersey?”

He smirked, leaning closer, their conversation now a little more intimate in the bustling bar. “I’ll tell you if you tell me what this ‘little event’ of yours is about.”

Mila let out a mock sigh, pouting playfully. “Aw, party pooper. That’s not how the game works.”

“I’m just keeping it fair,” he said with a smile, obviously enjoying the banter.

“You’re smooth,” she said with a soft laugh, “but I’m not that easy.”

“I wouldn’t want you to be,” he replied with a grin, “But fair’s fair, right? Besides, you’re clearly the one with all the secrets.”

“Secrets?” she echoed, feigning innocence. “Who, me? I’m just a regular girl enjoying a night out.”

He looked amused. “I don’t think you’re a regular girl at all. Maybe just...one who’s really good at dodging questions.”

Mila grinned, relishing the playful jab. “I like to think of it as a talent, yes. Keeps handsome guys like you guessing.”

He leaned in even closer, his expression shifting to something more serious yet still playful. “You think I’m handsome?”

Mila felt her cheeks flush, but she maintained her composure. “Fishing for compliments?” She raised an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on her lips.

He chuckled softly. “Alright, Ms. Mysterious, if you’re so skilled at evading questions, how about you tell me what you think of my accent instead?”

“Now that’s an interesting angle,” she replied, tapping her finger to her chin thoughtfully. “Let’s see… it’s charming, sophisticated, with just the right amount of intrigue. Perfect for someone who seems well-traveled.”

“Not bad,” he said, clearly pleased. “I’ll take charming and sophisticated any day.”

“And I’ll take smooth-talking Swiss guys anytime,” she shot back, her smile playful.

“Anytime, huh?” His voice lowered, and she could have sworn his eyes darkened.

Hot.

“I said what I said,” she winked, feeling a flutter in her stomach.

They shared a laugh before he asked, “Ever been to Switzerland?”

“A few times, actually, but always for work,” she said, taking a sip of her drink. “I never get to stay long.”

“Well, if you ever find yourself there over the summer, look me up. I’ll give you the best tour—show you all my secret spots.”

Mila laughed. “How charming! A stranger offering to show me around a foreign country? No red flags there,” she smirked, her eyes glinting with amusement.

His gaze sparkled with mischief. “Well, maybe I can be less of a stranger right now. I’m N—”

“MILA, YOU HAVE TO SEE THIS!” Michelle suddenly burst onto the scene, giggling uncontrollably as she nuzzled her head into Mila’s arm.

Mila glanced at her, concern etched on her face. “What’s wrong, hun?”

“Cole is projectile vomiting on the street!” Michelle cackled, laughing as if it were the funniest thing in the world.

Mila let out a long sigh, glancing back at the handsome stranger, who was watching her with a grin. “Well, duty calls,” she said with a teasing smile. “See you around, pretty.” She blew him a playful kiss as she walked away, his gaze lingering on her until she disappeared into the crowd.

૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა ♡ ૮꒰ ˶• ༝ •˶꒱ა

“Alright, you troublemakers,” Mila says, laughing softly as she loads her three very drunk friends into her car, “It’s time to go home.”

Chloe stumbles into the back seat with Michelle following close behind, while Cole barely manages to slide into the front seat, giggling to himself. As Mila starts the car, the once lively, noisy crew falls into a rare moment of quiet. The only sounds are Taylor Swift’s voice playing softly through the speakers and Chloe’s occasional attempts to get up and give Mila a hug from the back seat.

“Mila, I love you! Thank you for taking us home! You’re the best, I love you!” Chloe slurs, leaning precariously over the seat, her head swaying with the car’s motion.

All Mila can do is chuckle. Chloe always got overly affectionate when she was drunk. “Love you too, Chlo. Now sit back down before you fall on your face,” she says, gently pushing her back. They’re all going to regret this tomorrow, Mila thinks, imagining the hungover groans and complaints that will inevitably come.

The drive back to her apartment is mostly quiet, her friends either drifting in and out of sleep or mumbling incoherently. She parks smoothly in her usual spot and steps out of the car, taking a deep breath of the cool night air. Before dealing with the dead weight that her friends had become, she heads over to the nearby security desk to ask for help hauling them upstairs.

A few minutes later, with the security guards' help, she manages to guide her friends to her apartment. They stumble through the hallway, laughing and tripping over their own feet. Mila shakes her head, trying not to laugh at the chaos.

Once inside, she gently settles Chloe, Michelle, and Cole onto her couch and guest room bed. She takes her time making sure they’re makeup-free and tucked in comfortably, ensuring they’re all lying on their sides just in case. Chloe mumbles something incoherent as Mila pulls a blanket over her.

Finally, when her friends are taken care of, Mila retreats to the peace and quiet of her own bedroom. She slips out of her clothes and takes a long, hot shower, feeling the warmth of the water wash away the tension of the night. When she emerges, refreshed and ready for bed, she slides into a silk nightgown and brushes out her damp hair.

With a deep, contented sigh, Mila climbs into bed, the events of the night playing on her mind. She smiles, thinking of her friends' antics—their excitement, their drunken affection. It had been a good night, a chaotic end, but fun. Yet, as her thoughts drift back to the bar, she finds herself remembering him—the man with the charming accent and easy smile.

He was handsome, sure, but also kind and a surprisingly good conversationalist. Mila turns onto her side, grabbing her phone from the nightstand. Maybe she should give him a call tomorrow, see if he’s free to hang out.

She scrolls through her phone, opening her Notes app where she typically stashes random numbers from nights like this. Her fingers move over the screen as she searches through the list.

But then it hits her.

She never got his number.

Her eyes widen, realization settling in.

Shit.

She never even got his name.

#Ice2MeetYou #nico hischier imagine #nico hischier fic #nico hischier #nh13 #nico hischier au #nico hischier x oc #nhl fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fic #nhl x reader #new jersey devils #✩ allie's writing ✩

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vulpixisananimal · 2 months ago

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[A:3 C:66] [Alex] |Jasmin|

[You all got home alright, no one came running, no one stopped you, and there wasn’t a hair out of place in the house. You had locked the door once everyone was in, and made sure to secure every other entrance. Once you were sure that there weren’t going to be any nasty surprises, you got water for whoever needed it, and grabbed some things to help fix up any injuries. Once THAT was all done, you finally took a second to breathe.]

[You leaned your head against a wall, breathing slowly in. . . Then out. . . In. . . Out. . .]

[This had all been a lot to take in. No memory, Eris dead, new friends, the blinding Monets. . . Stars, you just needed a second to not go nuts, and just, breathe.]

[You turned to look at the rest of the living room. Isabeau, Mirabelle, and Siffrin- no, Loop, were all sitting on the couch. Odile was laying back in a chair, eyes closed, and Nille and Bonnie were a few feet away, sitting at the base of the stairs. Bonnie needed a second to be alone and calm down, but not too alone. So this was a nice compromise.]

[Once you’re sure everyone’s settled, you stretch and walk back into the living room, taking the free chair and sitting down with a sigh.]

“. . . . . I blinding hate those guys.”

“Really? I hadn’t noticed.” [Odile responded without opening an eye.] “. . . We should, go over everything then, right?”

“Y-yeah. . .” [Isabeau looks awkwardly at the siblings.] “Is, that okay? Nille? Bonbon?”

[Nille looks down at Bonnie, who nods, she turns back.] “. . . Yeah, we’re good.” [She stands up and walks over, Bonnie right behind.]

“Loop? You alright?” [Mirabelle shook the traveler lightly, who then jolted back to reality. Nille sat leaned on the couch, and Bonnie sat on the floor.]

“I’m here I’m here~” [Loop rubbed their neck, and picked at the bandage around their leg.] “Stars. . . Where do we start?”

“Asterion?” [You suggest, the party, except Bonnie, nod.]

“Right.” [Loop sighs, exasperated, and dig around in their cloak before pulling out a journal.] “Well. . . Asterion first showed up a few days before arriving here, and since then, his entries have only been innocent.”

|You like Asterion. You think.|

“He’s been. . . Pretty alright.” [Nille grumbles.] “It’s just, y’know. . .”

“A shock?” [Isabeau suggests.]

“Yeah, it’s just a shock. . .” [She rubs her neck.] “I uh, he’s not, literally, the King, right?”

[Loop shook their head.] “No, no. An introject, like Null. . . An imperfect copy. Or impression.”

“B-but, I would have thought that, t-that they would end up with someone they knew more than the KIng.” [Mirabelle is fiddling with her dress.]

“Don’t forget, 176 loops~” [Loop chimed in.] “He. . . Left quite an impact. On both of us.”

“Quite. Even so, I think Asterion only copied his mannerisms, not his personality.” [Odile crosses her arms.] “And let me guess, that little scuffle in your head was because of Asterion?”

“. . .” [Loop glanced at you, then away.] “. . . Y-yes, yes.”

“I still don’t remember that, whatever it was.” [You shook your head.] “Seems to have ended up alright, though.”

“. . . Rrrriiiiight.” [Loop squints at you.] “Well. . . It’s hard for me to trust Asterion, and for the rest of you, that is for you to decide.”

“We’re definitely having talks with him later.” [Isa nods.] “Besides! I haven’t met one of your headmates I don’t like yet!

“About that.” [Loop cleared their throat.] “This is the second time Perci’s mentioned that Mal is a sadness. The first time was when Null bumped into him at the tea-vern--”

“Wait you did?!?” [Mira jumped up.] “W-when was that?!?”

“Oh! Ah, a few days ago, almost a week, even.” [Loop rolled their eye.] “Oh Null, you and your poor communication skills. . . A-anyway! That’s gotten me thinking, is Mal du Pays a sadness? Or an alter?”

“W-well. . . Mine ended up in my head, like a Daemon. And it acted as its own thing somewhat when Ramos went into my head, so. . .”

“I wouldn’t rule it out.” [Odile adds.] “I. . . Confronted mine when Perci tricked me. He called it a mental barrier. And called Mal a “tamed” sadness.”

“Sadness or not, Mal’s been kind enough.” [Isabeau nods again.] “We’ll figure it out.”

“Although, speaking of Perci.” [Odile said with a bitter tone.] “I. . . I am sorry. I’m sorry for causing you all trouble.”

“. . . . Forgiven!”

“I-it’s okay!!”

“I’ll let you go this once~”

“Hey we’re all okay now.”

“I trust that crab as far as I can throw him.” [You grumble.] “Let’s just not make it a habit. Now, was he trying to dominate you? Kill you? What.”

“For one, he wanted to look through my memories.” [Odile looks away.] “. . For two, he wanted me to face my sadness, to potentially learn mind craft.”

“I see.” [You tap your chin.] “Hmm. . . So having a tamed sadness is a key step in learning mind craft.”

[The air of the room was getting colder, ah, right. You reach out a hand and put it on Odiles knee.] “. . . And it’s, no shame, madam.”

“. . Thank you.” [Odile pauses, and lets out a sigh, smiling back at you.] “I believe Perci found something in my memory that intrigued him. One of the disturbed parts was our fight against the King. Specifically, that the King remembered.”

“Remembered?” [Nille asks.]

“O-oh! Right.” [Mirabelle was bouncing her leg.] “When I reflected the King's freezing curse back at him, he said something about, finally remembering? A-and I think that’s. . . To do with. . W-with the, the. . .”

“The Island North of Vaugarde.” [Loop finishes.]

“Y-yes! That!!”

“That makes sense.” [Isa looks to the side, thinking.] “They’re looking for information on the island, or how to bring it back. So something like that would be a goldmine.”

“Well we know where they’d be headed next I bet.” [You smile.] “It’s Dormont where the King was frozen, right?”

[There’s an awkward silence, broken only by Mirabelle.] “. . . Y-yes, but. . .” [She, looks at Loop.]

“. . . .” [They look at the ground.] “. . . . . . Let’s move on.”

“R-right.” [Miabelle takes a breath.] “I. . . W-well, we should talk about. . .”

[There’s a pause as no-one wants to say it. Well, except for you.] “. . . About Boniface’s wish?”

[Bonnie tucks their legs close and looks away.] “. . . Don’t want to.”

“. . . I get it, Bonbon.” [Nille says, reassuring.] “It’s one of those things where we don’t wanna do it but-”

“I don’t WANT to!!” [Bonnie hides their face.] “I don’t!!!”

“It’s okay, it’s okay!” [Nille kneels down next to them.] “None of us are going to be mad, okay?”

“But that’s not how the stupid crabbing wish works!!” [They shook their head.] “It’s a secret! And if you say the secret you lose it!! I’ll just shut up until we’re all safe from THEM and!!! A-and!!”

“. . B-boniface?” [Loop sits up, looking at them.] “D-do, you mean that, birthday wish-”

“It’s fine! It’s NOTHING!!” [They’re covering their head with their hat.] “It’s stupid!! It’s dumb!!!”

“B-but it’s-”

“It’s FINE!! It’s fine if I have those crabbing nightmares of your stupid crabbing loops!! It’s fine if I remember it!! It’s fine ‘cause I can remember to do things to make loops easier!! Or get stuff ready!!! AND Those stupid crabbing stupidfaces can’t get into my head!!!”

“W-what-”

“I’ll just KEEP IT HERE UNTIL WE’RE ALL OKAY!!! Then, t-then I’ll say the secret wish and it’s back to normal!!! You, y-you CRABS!! Just, j-just LEAVE ME ALONE!!!”

[There’s a tense silence. Loop gets up, walks over to Bonnie, and kneels down.] “. . . L-little flare. . .”

“J-just. . .” [Bonnie isn’t looking up. Nille is looking between them, and Loop.]

“. . . Flare. . . Bonnie. . . Bonbon. . .” [Loop reaches out, and puts a hand on their hat.] “I-I. . . That’s, not how the wish works.”

“W-whuh?” [Bonnie finally looks up at them and Nille.]

“. . . Wishes can’t be broken like that.” [They look down.] “”A secret between you and the universe” is just, a-a, a turn of phrase, little flare.”

[There’s a pause, Bonnie staring at loop, until Loop finally finishes the thought.]

“You. . . Won’t be able to just forget it. I’m sorry.”

[There’s a second of tense silence where the stars wait to watch what happens next. Bonnie's face cracked, and then they wailed, diving into Loop’s arms. A moment later, Loop wrapped their arms around them, and Nille joined a second later.]

|They’re crying a lot. . . Maybe, get some water?|

[Good idea, you stand up, and go to get them some more water. In the time where you left and came back. Mirabelle and Isabeau joined in the hug as well. You placed the water down nearby, and sat. Not your school, not your fishes.]

[Once Bonnie was sufficiently calmed down, Mira and Isabeau took their seats. Nille took Loops spot, with Bonnie on her lap. Loop sat on the armrest of the couch. Nille picked up the glass of water and gave it to Bonnie to sip.]

“. . .” [You tap your finger on the table.] “. . . So. . . If, the whole memory thing is a bit, much, we can just talk about it another time, right?”

“Mh hmh.” [Bonnie mumbles, looking away.]

“In that case,” [You lean back in your chair.] “That should be everything. Let’s all rest up and-”

“NUH UH!!!”

“Yeah Ramos you’ve been acting weird!”

“Really? I think “Ramos” here is acting as normal as I am! Teehee~”

“H-hah yeah, uh, buddy you’ve been kinda different.”

“I-it’s not that we’re going to j-judge you less or anything, it's just. . .”

“You’re not exactly Ramos right now, are you?”

[You sat up again, confused, at everyone's exclamations. You looked between them all. Squinting.] “What are you blinding talking about?”

“It’s alright, not-ramos~ It was very scary for us talking about it too.” [Loop said in a tone that suggests comfort.]

“E-exactly!! We’re here to help in any way we can!!”

“That’s not helping.” [You cross your arms and shake your head.] “How about you talk Vaugardian instead of assuming I know what you’re talking about.”

[They all pause, and look at you in stunned silence.]

[That is until Odile bursts out laughing.]

“What’s so funny.” [You glance at her.]

“Haaahahhahaha!! Ah I just realized what Merlon found so humorous!!” [She shook her head and grinned.] “I don’t think “Ramos” has realized.”

|This is scary.|

“Realized what!?!” [This is getting annoying. You glance over to Jasmine in the greenhouse. We’ll be fine.]

“Oh my! Really?” [Loop said in a cheeky tone.] “Wow! Oh they’re more oblivious than Stardust, then~”

“Come on, be polite.” [Odile responds before turning to you.] “Well, Ramos, or not-ramos, you do know what a system is, right?”

“. . . Yyyyes.” [You plucked a fruit off a greenhouse plant and nibbled at it.] “It's multiple people sharing one body, basically. I know some things about it but I think most of it was lost to amnesia.”

“I see.” [Odile grinned and crossed her arms, like a professor expecting a specific answer.] “And does that sound like you at all?”

“No?”

“YES!!!” [Came a unanimous shout from the room.]

|LOUD!!|

[You wince at the noise.] “It’s- it is NOT!! What gives you that idea!!”

“You’re acting really crabbing weird!!!” [Says Bonnie.]

“That’s just my mood.”

“You dress very differently!” [Says Mirabelle.]

“I like to change things up.”

“You forgot the last few months of your life!!” [Says Nille.]

“That was Percis mind craft.”

“You’re not using your tonfas!!” [Says Isabeau.]

“I can use different weapons if I want.”

“You’re blinding paper craft, Ramos!!” [Says Loop.]

“I’m just. . . Using paper craft skills?”

“Ramos, or not-ramos.” [Odile gives you a stern yet smug look.] “What you looked like in my mindspace was completely different than what you were before.”

“W-well, I-” [Hmm.]

“A-and you have a headspace!!” [Mirabelle jumps in.] “A-are there other people in it?”

“Well, yeah? Doesn’t everyone?”

“NO!?!??!” [Everyone says again.]

|Too much please!|

[You wince again.] “Will you please stop yelling? I’m not a system!”

“Clearly you are!!” [Loop looks at you, annoyed.] “What about those other people, do you talk to them? Other voices in your head?”

“Look.” [You lean forward.] “I’m not a system! I’m not plural! My headspace is just a way to organize my thoughts! And the people in it, this version of me and all the others, are imaginary friends! They’re NOT! REAL-”

|HEY!!!! RUDE!!!!!|

[You wince, Jasmine was storming into the greenhouse and punched you. A-azzy that-]

|I’M REAL!!! I’M SUPER REAL!!!! MEANY!!! YOU BAT!! YOU MEAN BAT!!!|

[You shake your head, confused and dizzy. J-jasmine I, but, we-]

“Ha!” [Loop grinned.] “Let me guess, you just got someone in your head yelling at you that they are, in fact, real?”

|I AM REAL!!!|

[You, blink a few times, and then, nod. S-sorry, Jas, uh. . . Stars. . .]

|Batface. You leave the greenhouse, still a bit angry.|

[You sit back in the chair, taking a few breaths.] “. . . . I. . .”

“Do you need a second?” [Asks Mirabelle. You nod.]

[You breathe in. . . . And out. . . .] “. . . . I, guess this explains the difference in. . . Well, self image?”

“You did say your body was ‘not your style’” [Nille adds.] “You have a different name, too?”

“I. . .” [You, think for a moment, then nod.] “. . . Alex. It’s Alex. I’ve always thought of this. . . Version of me, being, called Alex.”

“Well it’s good to meet you Alex!” [Isabeau puffs his chest up.] “Or uh, did we already know each other?”

“I only remembered you and Mirabelle, big guy.” [You chuckled.] “There were. . . Always four versions of, me in my head. A-and. . . That’s not normal?”

“No.” [Odile dryly replies.] “Not at all.”

[You rub your face.] “Some academic I am.”

“So, who are the others?” [Asks Loop, leaning in like some housemaiden wanting for the latest gossip.]

“Well. . . There’s me, Alex (they/she). I come around for all things study and test related. There’s Ramos (they/them), who takes care of the physical body, as well as train it, you know them. Jasmine (he/they), who’s quite a bit younger, and likes to garden and keeps our head clear. And Altiare (any/all), who comes out to deal with any threats.”

[You rub your forehead.] “When. . . Ramos, who was in control at the time, made some deal with Perci and Merlon, that crab Perci got in our head and buried the three of us in the garden. When I came to, it was just me and Jasmine. Ramos and Altiare are still missing. . . Stars my head hurts.”

“I-it’s alright! You can figure it out at your own pace, Alex.” [Mirabelles infectious smile was creeping onto your own.]

“Exactly.” [Odile rests her head on her hand and looks at you.] “New discoveries need studying, yes, but don’t burn yourself out about it.”

[. . . Hmm. You mimic her, head resting on your hand.] “As well as getting it. . . Peer reviewed.”

[She smirked back.] “Exactly.”

[. . . Heh, maybe this wasn’t all bad.]

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heartsfromia · 30 days ago

Text

old habits die hard — k. yudai

pairing: non-idol! k x reader

word count: 3,727

genre: fluff, somewhat childhood friends to… lovers (?), college au but at a party (that isnt hosted by jackson wang)

warnings: profanities, mentions of alcohol, idk if this should be a warning but a bit of nichojoo

author's notes: my first andteam fic! recently got into them and have been smitten ever since (o^▽^o) also these fics will be a tumblr exclusive (unlike my svt fics) so they wont be posted anywhere else (now i have to figure out how to put this on my masterlist)

You hated parties.

Such a cliché statement, but it was true.

You absolutely despised parties, and all throughout your first year of college, you made it your life’s mission to avoid attending a single one (excluding mandatory parties that were held under collegial events, because for some reason, supervisors count your absents for those things). It was easy for the first semester since everyone was just getting to know each other, hosting a party so early in the year was only done by those older than you. There was nothing more akin to modern day torture than being holed up in a poorly lit living room with over a hundred intoxicated people, loud incessant music and sweaty body odor stinking up the already small space.

You always hated sweaty people and body odor, and unfortunately, parties were the Grand Central for them.

So the question might have come up: how did you find yourself at a party?

Simple: Nicholas Wang.

Your best friend, ride or die, and the bane of your existence because the universe had plagued the two of you with opposing personalities. Nicholas knows well enough that parties aren’t your thing and you were stubborn enough that he never tried to change your mind, but he enjoyed them. It was fun, he’s a social butterfly that thrives by interacting with others and he’d always limit himself to asking you to accompany him at least once a semester for a party.

It was the second semester to your second year, so he decided to use his chances now because of much more… important matters to deal with than just partying.

“It’s hosted by Mingyu, Y/N, you know? The guys that rented a whole-ass house for themselves?” You knew who he meant. Kim Mingyu and a bunch of his friends couldn’t find a place to stay once their time on campus dorms had ended, so they decided to find a fairly big house they could room up to ten people to rent. Not only was a huge steal because Mingyu was able to gather about eight other guys to join, but the landlord isn’t strict either, as long as the guys made sure nothing gets damaged (if they did, it was paid out of their own pockets) and to not get the police involved then they were free to do whatever they wanted.

“I don’t really care who is hosting it, Nico,” you mumbled, a resigned look on your face. “Isn’t it a bit early for you to use your pass? It’s barely two weeks into the semester.”

“Uh…” A blush coated his cheeks as he averted his eyes, only piquing your interest now. “So, the thing is… You know how I went skiing for break, I kind of met someone there—“

You sat up, eyes so wide that you worried they’d pop out. This was news; Nicholas, despite being a social butterfly, never was interested in anyone, no matter how many people tried to get closer—boy or girl. You couldn’t help the wide smile that pulled at your lips. “Oh my gosh! That’s awesome! Who are they?” He had always expressed his sexuality as something he never wanted to label, he only knew that if he had romantic feelings for someone, he never really cared for who they were.

“It’s Byun Euijoo, he’s an Engineering major.” Nicholas then went on to explain how the two had ran into each other in the same ski resort the recent break, the romantic cliché of getting stuck in the ski lift for about twenty minutes, and talking until the machine came back on. They then decided to continue their conversation over dinner with hot cocoa and well, to say the least, Nicholas was smitten over the guy.

“But what does Euijoo have anything to do—“ The realization struck. You paused then squinted your eyes. “He lives there?”

Nicholas shook his head, before a sheepish smile etched on his face. “But he did ask if I was going.”

Alas, you found yourself in the party. And to make it worse, not even twenty seconds in the door, someone crashed right into you, their drink and snacks they were carrying had spilled all over you, staining your shirt with an alcoholic concoction and nacho cheese sauce.

“Oh my gosh, Y/N,” Nicholas exclaimed. “Are you okay? Gosh, couldn’t that guy see where he was going?” He threw a glare in the direction of where the guy that bumped into you had gone.

“I’m fine, Nico,” you reassured, however your best friend wasn’t convinced. “Hey, I see Euijoo over there by the food table, why don’t you go talk to him?”

“How about y—“

“I’ll ask around for a bathroom, it’s alright.” He stared at you, brows pulled together. You rolled your eyes, emphasizing, “It’s okay.” You then turned him around so he faced away from him, giving him a gentle push. “Now, go.”

He looked over his shoulder as he walked slowly, but when you gave him a reassuring look, he returned with a grateful smile and disappeared into the crowd, his head popping up right by the food table not long after. Once you were sure he was out of sight, you heaved a sigh, your shoulders slouching. Every time you’d gone out to a party, it’d give you a reason why it is never a good decision. The last time you had gone out, you spent most of your time by the snacks and for some reason, someone didn’t inspect the food provided and you ended up eating something that was way past its best before date, resulting into an intensive couple of hours in the toilet the next morning.

Now your favorite white shirt was stained with alcohol and cheese.

You tried to ask others where the bathroom was, ultimately being ignored at almost every turn.

“Hey, can you point me—“

“Do you know where—“

“Anyone know—“

“Bathroom, where—“

Hopeless.

Obviously you could try looking through every door until you found the bathroom, but the house was three floors, and even the first floor was so crowded, you were grateful to even find the front door again. You wanted to dip—everything in you and the state of your outfit with the stains seeping through the material—urged you to just leave, and hope that Nicholas’ “date” goes well and he won’t need a ride home.

The urge stuck, pushing your body towards the door as if it had a mind of its own (and it was thinking, “fuck this”), but a voice pulled you out of your thoughts.

“Looking for the bathroom?” A relieved smile appeared on your lips as you turned around to see your saviour of the night, but it immediately dropped when you saw he spoke to you.

Koga Yudai (infamously referred to as “Kei” for reasons unknown to you) had the gentlest of smiles etched across his pink lips when he appeared before you. He looked different—grown, mature, and obviously attractive as hell. A lot had changed since the last time you saw him; the last time being grade school. Of course you were well aware that he went to the same university as you, but he was in a completely department and the chances of your paths crossing was low.

But never zero, I guess.

He glanced down to your mess of a shirt, a teasing grin on his lips. “Damn, Y/N, you really know how to party.”

You rolled your eyes. The relationship you and Kei had in grade school was friendly, being a year above you limited your interactions but back then, he used to live in the same neighbourhood as you. Your mothers met each other often during community gatherings and events, your fathers also worked in the same area in the city. Being friendly with each other was inevitable, but Kei took it a step further by teasing you every so often.

“Do you know where the bathroom is, Kei?” You asked exasperated, not wanting to play along with his teasing. The smell from the cheese and pungency of the alcohol was seeping through your shirt, invading your noise and sticking to your skin, if he didn’t show you the bathroom in that very moment, you were sure a homicide was going to take place.

“Yeah, I’ll show you the one near my room so we can get you change of clothes.” He didn’t give you any opportunity to protest or ask further questions before he turned and walked towards the stairs. You followed him like a lost puppy, eyes darting and dodging those in your way. The two of you reached the third floor which was a lot less crowded than the other two.

“We keep the third floor empty of party-goers,” he stated, answering your thoughts.

As you reached a closed door, you asked, So, you live here?” He turned to look at you, nodding, before pushing the door open to reveal the bathroom.

“Head on in, keep it locked, alright?” He told you, stepping aside for you. Before he closed the door, he said, “I’ll be back with a shirt for you.”

“No, Kei, it’s—“ The door closes before you could finish. You sighed, staring at the closed door in a daze, your heart fluttering against your ribcage. You were grateful Kei barely looked at you, hopefully he didn’t notice the way your cheeks were flushed a bright red, and your heavy breathing (that wasn’t from the two flights of stairs).

God, they’re still here? You thought they’d be gone by now, it had been almost a decade since you realized your crush on Kei. A decade where the two of you never saw each other after he said his goodbyes because he and his family were moving to Tokyo for his dad’s new job. You were sure that would be last time you’d see him, giving you enough time and distance to move on from your puppy love.

I guess the feelings were stronger than I thought.

A knock broke you from your thoughts, causing you to jump slightly and then panic because you didn’t lock the door as Yudai had asked.

“Y/N, I brought the shirt.” A sigh of relief escaped your lips, and you pulled the door open. You were met with a look of confusion from Kei. “You didn’t lock the door.” It wasn’t a question, rather a statement.

“Yeah, I was occupied.”

His brows furrowed to that of worry, his lips pressed in a tight line. Oh boy. “Y/N, you’re at a party. Tons of people are here and this bathroom is open for anyone, who knows what would’ve happened if it wasn’t me that came? No one would’ve known you were in here and you could’ve been cleaning yourself up, forgetting to lock the door and someone could just waltz right in—“ He rants dramatically, using his arms and his face contorting, but instead of scaring you, a laugh left you, stopping his nagging. “This is no laughing matter, Y/N.”

“I’m sorry, Kei, it was an honest mistake,” you reassured him, but his scorn prevailed. “You haven’t changed, huh?”

His eyebrows shot up at that, crossing his arms over his chest as he leaned against the door frame, the shirt he brought draped over his crossed arms. “And what’s that supposed to mean?” He asked with a raised brow.

“You still nag ‘til my ears bleed,” you said, over exaggerating.

A look of offense briefly passed his features. “No, I don’t.”

“Yes, you do, you always have!” You grinned. “When I scraped my knee when I rode a bicycle, you told me it was my fault because I didn’t want to wear knee pads. In sixth grade, when I flunked a math test, you nagged at me because instead of studying, I chose to binge watch Barbie.”

Kei’s mouth opened to defend himself, but closed again, thinking back to those days, then finally said, “Okay, maybe I nag a bit but it’s mostly because you don’t listen.”

“Yeah, yeah, can I please have the shirt so I can change? I think the cheese they used for the nachos is a combo of cheddar and blue cheese.” The two of you cringe, and he hands you the shirt before closing the door.

You were to turn to pull your shirt off when the door swung open, a scream escaped your lips as you jumped, turning to find Kei with a shit-eating grin. “Lock it, Y/N.”

“Alright!” A laugh echoed from the other side when you turned the key. You took your time to peel the stained shirt off of you, the state of it causing you to pout as you contemplated whether or not you should give a chance and laundry it or to just toss it out altogether. It genuinely concerned you how much thought you were putting into that decision because the shirt had been with you for years, and it fit you the way that could only be done through constant wear. You doubt you could find another.

So you decided to rinse it, at least get as much of the stain and cheese out with the bar soap available, and then let the washing machine back home deal with the remains. You also grabbed a wad of toilet paper, running it under water before wiping the skin of your stomach and chest. Unfortunately, no matter how much you scrubbed it, the smell of alcohol wasn’t disappearing.

Giving up, you folded your shirt neatly, tucking it away in the small bag you brought before picking up Kei’s shirt. You gripped the shoulders, allowing it to unravel. It was a flannel made of cotton, thin enough for the warm summer night but wasn’t transparent either when you held it against the light. The best part though was the smell; a mixture of softener, musk and woodiness that seemed all-too familiar but you couldn’t put a finger on what it was. One thing you remembered about Kei was his genuine interest in perfumes and all things scented. You remember there was a point you were hanging out in his house and his mother came barging in into his room, angry because Kei had borrowed her perfume and forgot to put it back.

You smiled fondly at the memory, all those days suddenly felt so close—closer than they had ever been for the past few years, but just as far.

You slipped the shirt on, the material feeling soft and warm against your skin. Despite its larger size, you felt it fit you just right.

Once you were done, you pulled the door open and stepped out, pulling at the flannel and tucking the front part into your jeans. “You look really good in my shirt.”

Another scream, but this time, you smacked his arm. “Stop that!”

He threw his head back at your reaction. “You’ve always been easy to scare.” You rolled your eyes, glaring at him, but he ignored the look as he nodded his head towards the left side of the hallway, opposite to the stairs back at the party. “Come, I know these things are really your scene. I’ve got snacks in my room.”

When you were about to follow him, your phone vibrated in your pockets.

Nico: yn where’d you go? i waited by the bathroom and it wasnt you

“Boyfriend?”

Your eyebrows pulled together at Kei’s question, but you shook your head. “No, it’s a friend I came here with.”

“Oh.” A look of relief passed his face, but it was so quick, you almost questioned if you’d imagined it.

You: hey im with kei rn, im okayyy You: pls have fun with euijoo without me 🤭 Nico: alrightt text me if youre ready to go Nico: but take as much time as you want 😇 You: same to youu

With a satisfied grin, you slipped your phone back in your pocket and followed Kei to his room. It looked just as you had expected; a tidy mess. He had always been the type to keep his room tidy enough that his mom wouldn’t nag at him to clean his room at first glance, but you’d look closely you would notice the pile of laundry on a chair, the mess of textbooks on his desk and his untucked sheets.

One thing for sure, the smell of the room could easily distract you to the point you would never notice any of all that.

You noticed the two scented candles lit by his desk, igniting the space in a warm yellow, wavering a bit with your entrance. The layout looked just like what you’d expected in a college student, which meant that there was a small TV screen, mini fridge and a rice cooker. “Not too bad, Koga.”

“Sorry for the mess,” he apologized with a chuckle. “My bedroom is usually off limits on nights like this.” You stared at him expectantly. “You are an exception, Y/N.”

“Such an honour,” you teased, laughing. “I didn’t know you lived here.”

“Yeah, I was one of the first few people Mingyu approached to join,” he informed, and you nodded wordlessly. “Anyway, why are you here? As far as I remember, you never liked crowded places, let alone a party with drunk college kids.”

“My friend, Nicholas, the guy I came here with asked me to come with him as a—I wouldn’t say wing woman, but he was invited by someone he’s interested in and didn’t want to arrive alone,” you droned on, even though what you were explaining didn’t have any correlation why you’d willingly put yourself in a situation you were uncomfortable in.

And Kei knew that. It was exactly what he had asked. “Still putting the needs of others before your own, huh?”

“Still meddling yourself into things that have nothing to do with you, huh?” You bit back, stunning Kei for a second before a soft chuckle left his lips. “I don’t… mind, if the whole cheese thing didn’t happen then I’d probably be having fun by the snack table right now, maybe even talk with Kevin from Stats. I saw him by the kitchen earlier.” You knew you were rambling to deflect, and despite the years that passed between you and Kei, he was still well aware of your old habits.

And he’d always listen. The two of you had sat on the floor close to his bed, the mini fridge beside the door, and he had already propped his arm up, resting his chin while you rambled on, justifying why you did come to the party. He never interrupted, because sooner you would realize what you were spewing wasn’t entirely true and blush, embarrassed for letting yourself talk so much.

“Yeah, I get it, Y/N, but the line between selflessness and self-sacrifice is almost invisible, what you’re doing is sacrificing your own comfort for the sake of others,” he pointed out, “you know you’re not a party person, but you still go out of your way because someone asked you to.”

“That would mean I shouldn’t leave my comfort zone,” you retorted, the back of your neck beginning to heat up. “I’m not eleven anymore, Yudai. I get you had been protective then, but I’m an adult now. I can choose whether or not I want to put myself in uncomfortable situations.”

He was quiet for longer than you expected, and you feared that you’d said something wrong, maybe even offended him. But then you caught the twitch at the corner of lips unfold into a smirk. “You called me Yudai.”

The embarrassment was almost immediate. Your cheeks flushed a bright red, heating up not just your face but your entire body. Nobody—as far as you knew—called him Yudai, all of them called him Kei, even back when you went to the same school. The only people that called him Yudai were his parents, and well, you. It started as a way to tease him, like being called your full name, but doing it so often, it became a habit.

It slipped, in the midst of your minor altercation, you were overwhelmed by the emotions of being treated like a kid to even realize.

“I almost thought you’d forgotten.”

“How could I? The faces you’d make when I called you Yudai were priceless,” you said with a laugh. “Especially when I did it in front of your friends.”

“Not even my mom embarrasses me like that,” he adds, causing the two of you to laugh harder. “I’m sorry if I offended you, I’m well aware you’re not a kid anymore, and yeah, I’m glad you don’t want to keep staying within your comfort zone even if it’s hard.”

“But…?” It was clear something else.

“Just… I guess, it’s a bit hard for me to grasp that you really don’t need me anymore,” he admits, a faint shade of pink appearing in his cheeks. “I know you’ve always been able to handle things yourself, but it always felt, I don’t know, comforting I guess, whenever you included me in the things you were going through.” He paused again. “You’ve matured, Y/N, is all I’m saying.”

His words tugged at your heart, the truth behind them revealing itself in the maze of your memories. Yes, Yudai had always been a nagging Nancy, most the problems gone through during your time together were always accompanied by his reprimanding. However, he never scolded you without providing a solution or way out.

Sure he might’ve yelled at you for scraping your knee but he’d do so while plastering on a band-aid he had prepared beforehand.

Yes, he had talked your ear off when you failed math, but he made it his mission, amidst his own studies and extracurriculars, to tutor you so you can retake the test.

Even now, you’re wearing a clean and comfortable shirt that doesn’t smell like a science experiment gone wrong.

There were different things you wanted to tell him, thank him, say that he made your life easier, but instead you opted to say, “You really haven’t changed.”

Laughter shook his body. “What can I say? Old habits die hard.”

“What habit? Nagging ‘til our ears bleed?” You teased. He shook his head, the smirk lingering on his lips as he locked eyes with yours.

“The habit of always wanting to be there for you.”

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