#the first is my favorite…his bitchy little smirk and the way he looks in that uniform

[demon4dilfs]

more pics of Terrence Mann as Javert on Broadway, 2003

[holylulusworld]

Every Breath You Take (2)

Summary: There is a shadow following you. He doesn’t know what he got himself into.

Pairing: Stalker!Bucky Barnes x fem!Reader, Bucky x Alpine (platonic)

Warnings: stalking, being stalked, loneliness, a man out of time, bitchy boss, secret admirer trope, voyeurism, violence, threats

A/N: We start slowly to get to know them and their backstory. In this part, we will get to know Y/N better.

A/N2: You all made me do it! Here’s the series to this random idea: Stalker Bucky & Crazy Reader

Catch up here: Every Breath You take (1)

Every Breath You Take Masterlist

Bucky smirks when the man raises his hands in surrender. He tried to be a good man, but he couldn’t let anyone hurt you. This man threatened to fire you and called you a dumb bimbo.

“What have I done to you?” Your boss begs while facing a beyond angry super-soldier. “Who are you? What do you want?”

Bucky tilts his head and smirks behind his stocking mask. “You know what you did.” He growls and points the tip of his knife at the man’s chest. “The question is, do you regret your sins?”

“Sins?” He nervously shifts from one foot to the other. Your boss glances around his office, wondering if he can make it past his attacker and through the door. “I don’t know what you are talking about! Do you want money? I can pay you.”

“Money?” Bucky snorts. “People like you believe they get away with everything only because they are wealthy. I won’t let you get away with your sins. If you ever hurt her again, I’ll cut you open.”

Your boss is shaking in fear. His legs are about to give when Bucky wraps his metal hand around your boss’s throat. 

Bucky slams him into the wall and leans closer to inhale the fear waving off your boss’s body deeply. He presses the tip of his favorite knife into your boss’s chest, a warning to not mess with him. 

“If you ever even look at her the wrong way, I’ll come back and finish what I started today,” Bucky whispers in your boss’s ear. “Y/N Y/L/N is off limits. You hurt her, I hurt you. You yell at her; I’ll make your ears bleed. You touch her…well you don’t want to know what happens if you ever put your hands on my girl.”

“Y/N?” Your boss splutters. “She … I didn’t … it was …a misunderstanding. I was stressed and maybe I lost my countenance…I’m sorry. It will never happen again.”

“Good.”

Bucky drops his hand from your boss’s throat. He steps away and looks at the man messing with you up and down. “Don’t make me come back.”

“I won’t,” your boss sniffs. He tugs at his now wet pants, ashamed that Bucky scared him so much that he wet himself. 

“If you tell her about tonight, you will die. Y/N can never know,” Bucky points his knife at your boss. “This is your first and final warning.”

Before your boss can reply, Bucky is gone. Like a shadow, or a nightmare you wake from. Your boss sinks to his knees and starts to cry. 

“Morning,” you chirp as you walk inside the building. You greet the receptionist and smile as they wave back. “How are you today, Rodney?”

Rodney and you fall into an easy conversation. You giggle at something he said but freeze when your boss walks toward you and Rodney. He looks a little pale this morning and you wonder if he’s sick. 

“Good morning,” your boss nods at you and forces a smile on his face. He clears his throat and drops his gaze. “I wanted to apologize for my behavior over the last weeks. I was stressed, but this is no excuse for what I said.”

“Oh, I—” You’re taken aback by your boss's sudden change in demeanor. What has gotten into him? This is so unlike him, and you wonder what caused his behavioral changes. “I…I should head to my desk. Have a good day.”

“You accept my apologies, right?” He wrings his hands and pleadingly looks at you. Maybe someone reported him to HR, and he is trying to make amends now. “Please, I need to hear it.”

“We all make mistakes sometimes,” you hastily reply. “I accept your apologies, Sir. It was very nice of you to admit your mistake. Again, have a good day.”

You walk away to start the day. There is no time to analyze your boss’s behavior. Whatever made him change, it must’ve been traumatic. He looked scared when he looked at you.

Bucky smiles. “She looks happier today, Alpine,” he explains to his cat. “I think her boss got the message and apologized. Good for him. I’d hate to pay him another visit and to bring more knives.”

Alpine looks up at his owner and meows loudly. “I know,” Bucky sighs and pats the cat’s head. “I didn’t like hurting that man. Though, it had to be done. He would’ve hurt our girl again. I had to stop him.”

While you snuggle into your favorite blanket and switch the TV on, Bucky leans back in his armchair and sighs happily. The cameras he installed in your home make things so much easier for him.

He can watch you in every room via the monitors hanging on his walls. Well, in almost every room. James Buchanan Barnes is not a creep. He didn’t install a camera in your bathroom. 

“Do you think we should send her some flowers?” He wonders. “Or is it too soon?” Bucky rubs his chin. “No. Flowers are nice. She’ll be over the moon knowing that there is someone out there, admiring her beauty and grace.”

Alpine stretches and purrs. He presses his paws into Bucky’s thighs before lying back down. “Food was good, huh?” Bucky looks down at his cat. The white furball purrs loudly. “Your belly is full, and now we can watch our girl.”

You yawn. It’s getting late, but you are too tired to get up from the sofa. Rolling to your side you decide to sleep on your couch.

Your eyes flutter shut, and you snuggle into your favorite pillow. Sleep consumes you soon after, and you dream of a more interesting life than the one you are living at the moment.

The annoying sound of your alarm wakes you from your dream. You blink your eyes open and sigh. Just one more day and then it’s weekend.

As you sit up on your bed you frown. Last night you fell asleep on your couch. You’re sure you didn’t get up and walk inside your bedroom. 

But here you are, tugged in bed and there is even a glass of water on your nightstand. You usually forget to put a glass on the nightstand, and you didn’t set the alarm last night either.

How can this be? Did you sleepwalk? Maybe you were so tired you forgot that you went to bed last night.

You shrug. It’s time to get up and start a new day. There is no time to waste to find out how you got into your bed last night…

Part 3  

Tags in reblog.

[inkyquince]

I tolerate her. I liked you.

characters. Enver Gortash. Astarion. (Baldur's Gate 3)

cw. Dark Urge reader, with a intimate history with Gortash. Astarion being bitchy. Not explicitly nsfw, just dirty talk and dirty thoughts. Clingy and Jealous Astarion. Lots of talk of blood. 3k words.

“I tolerate Orin. I liked you.” 

The words hung in the air, Gortash’s smirk curling in the silence that followed. You cocked your head at him, slowly letting the statement sink in. There was something else there. His gaze was simmering, dark, as if daring you to ask what exactly he meant by that, right in front of the audience hall filled with chattering nobles, in front of your companions who had just learned that you were one of the three that had started all of this… In front of the one person who had taken your bloodied hands in their own and kissed your knuckles and washed the red from your skin. 

You wondered if your Bhaalspawn kin ever tasted the fear you seemed to wallow in these days. Fear of turning, fear of dying, fear of being exposed to be the disgusting creature you thought yourself to be. As for right now? Fear that Gortash would run his tongue over his teeth again and go into detail about how much he had enjoyed your company. So, like a coward, you instead fell back on prying into his thoughts. 

Carefully, with just a little Guidance, you crept into his mind, making sure not to alert the dark eyed Chosen of your actions. As per usual, the stream of consciousness came quickly, running like a stream past you, only able to catch a few strands of thought. 

Orin is too uncontrollable. This one never let me down. Oh, yes, how I liked you. Liked you so. I wonder if they taste as they did before, with blood on their tongue. Nothing that a little bit of wine helps to sweeten. The first taste is always the most memorable. You didn’t have the time of day for me at first, did you? The chosen of Bhaal, his favorite spawn, but I changed that. Now, if that glaring little shit would go find a shit house to glare at, I could invite you back to those chambers we enjoyed so much, to properly celebrate my new Dukedom. Not even the Sharess' Caress’s whores were able to scratch that itch you started- 

You quickly slipped back out, almost embarrassed with how the bastard saw you. Who you used to be… Maybe someone you still were. 

“I’ll think about it.” You finally managed. 

Gortash snide smile glinting in the bright candlelight. 

“I look forward to our reacquaintance.” He murmured, voice dropping low, husky and suggestive.

Yep. No way any of your companions would ever overlook that. You didn’t even look at any of them as you turned on your heel and walked back out, as Duke Ravengard began to anoint Gortash as Duke, shame prickling the back of your neck. Though, whether it was from the dawning horror that your friends’ tadpoles were lodged in their heads because of you, or because… Someone’s darkened red eyes were trained on your skin, their footsteps following quick and close behind you. 

Well, hopefully Mizora shares some truly abhorrent news downstairs to distract everyone from your own little reveal. Karlach had been beside herself when Gortash dropped the news, Wyll had been befuddled, but focused on his father, standing by with a blank look in his intelligent eyes. But Astarion? Not a word. 

Silence was bad. Astarion was never quiet. Between quips and jabs, with the occasional double entendre laced compliment, your undead lover loved to hear his own voice and run his mouth. Not to say he wasn’t quiet at times. When absorbed in his books, when staring with a frown at a mirror, when quietly gazing at you across the campfire, red eyes glinting with the reflection of the flames. 

However, this silence was none of those. This was the silence before he had snuck up to bite you for the first time. Before he had drawn his dagger to your throat. Before he was aiming to strike true. 

“Nice to know that you always had a taste for the finer things in life.” He drawled, leaning back on his hay bale, making it look as comfy as a chaise longue. Delicately picking at his cuff, sprawled out as if he was tempting you. 

“... Seems so.” You muttered, adjusting your bedroll again, to make sure none of the pieces of straw would dig into your skin. 

“Seems so.” Astarion repeated after you, tongue curling as he mocked your blase statement. “Maybe we should swing by a nice furniture shop, see if you’d fuck a particularly fancy bureau next.” 

“Astario-” 

“No, no.” The elf gave a long suffering sigh, as if your… “Ex” appearing was the worst thing that had ever happened to him. “You have a type, darling. Dangerous. Excellently dressed. Though, I do say that I have the better hair by a mile, and that’s being polite.” 

You couldn’t help but smile. When you two first met, his bitchiness made it impossible to please him, but since then it had become extremely endearing. At least now you knew you were saddled with him for life, and it was more entertaining to listen to him aggravate people. 

The elf drank in your smile lazily before stretching out. 

“Interesting couple of days. You nearly kill me, then you proclaim that you're Bhaal’s favorite child.” He mulled over, tapping his chin with a perfectly manicured finger. “Then worst of all, you drag me to meet your lover. I’ve had fun being a homewrecker before, but the other partner never really knew it was me who lured them out of the marriage bed and into the grave.” 

“Astarion! I-” 

“Now, darling.” He tutted. His smile was sharp, glinting, but there was something strangely fragile in his eyes. “You’re usually so good at letting me talk all I want.” 

There was a beat of silence between you two, with him looking up at you with his charlatan’s smile and glassy eyes. 

“Pretty sure your Gortash guessed I was the other man. Lovers of that sort do usually have a rather snide look when they find you out.” Astarion rolled onto his back with a languished sigh. “... Do you call him Gortash? Isn’t his first name Enver? That’s rather an ugly name to moan out.” 

“I don’t.” 

“Don’t what? Call him Enver? Or maybe Envie? Sounds rather like Envy, and I doubt that he’s one prone to jealousy-” 

“Astarion, I don’t know him.” You finally snapped, giving up entirely on your patience for his bitchy shenanigans. “I have snippets of memories. He’s implied something was between us, but that’s between two people I hardly know anymore. Anyway, shouldn’t you be more worried about, I don’t know, everything else going on?” 

“But I’m having so much fun playing the jealous lover. Don’t I get to play this out, to stamp my foot and demand you to never talk to him again? Shadow your every move and such?” He sighed through his nose, but something in his facade was slowly ebbing away. “... His offer is a good one.” 

“His offer? To rejoin him in fucking up the entirety of Baldur’s Gate? C’mon.” 

Astarion pondered your sentence before sitting up properly, easily slipping into a cross legged position. 

“It would be easier. Wouldn’t have to fuss around with Raphael and the Gith. Get to go back to a comfy life of being the favorite child, with a Duke for a bed warmer and an Elder Brain to boss around.” 

“Well, I’ve proven that I don’t like to do the easy thing.” You glanced at him, knowing how hard he had fought at first to keep you both as something casual, at most fuck buddies. 

His pale lips quirked. 

“Touche.” 

Silence fell again, but this time you waited patiently, knowing that Astarion always needed a moment to slip into the sincerity that came when he actually wanted to talk to you about something important to him. 

“I… I don’t like setting rules.” Well, that was obvious. Astarion thought that every boundary he wanted to put down would drive a wedge between you two. You barely managed to convince him you were okay with waiting to have sex, just for him to feel comfortable again. “... But….” 

You waited, fingers skating over his ivory knuckles as he formed the words. 

“.. Even if you start up your alliance with Gortash again, I… No starting up any dalliances you might have had. I don’t care if I have to share you, but I do get a say in who I share you with.” 

Astarion’s eyes hardened, fragility dissolving into something heated and dark. You two were already seated close enough, but his lithe fingers gripped your chin and pulled you closer to him, his lips parted enough to reveal his pearly fangs in the fire light. 

“And I will not share you with him. Anyone else might get the chance to think you have an equal relationship with them, like the one we have. But they’d be wrong. We belong to each other first and foremost. But he never gets to even get to hope to touch you like that again. Clear?” 

You didn’t even have a moment to reply, not with his cool lips quickly pressing against yours, breathless despite not needing air. One of his teeth nicked your bottom lip as he hungrily pulled you closer, tongue dragging over the cut. If it had happened even just the day before, you’d have laughed and asked if he was already parched again, but this was different. This was not a moment that could be broken with a light hearted joke. 

Astarion was making sure you understood in full, that you might have been with Gortash once upon a time, but that period was well and truly over. 

… At least, it was for you and Astarion. That time in your life tied up with a box and thrown into the fire, with the two of you sharing a few more kisses before the night was over. But Gortash sat in his chambers, idly rubbing his knuckle over his stubbled chin. It had been quite a day. 

Not many men got to be gifted the Dukedom of Baldur’s Gate, be threatened by an unhinged Changeling in his own room and see her long lost kin striding into his audience hall a few hours later. A smile flickered on his lips. You looked good. Even with your brain filled with holes, and unable to recall the brilliant plans you two had created, you were just as magnificent as the last time he ever saw you. 

His dalliance with The Dark Urge, Bhaal’s favorite spawn, had surprised even him. He didn’t care for Orin’s messy dedication to her father, the way she was always just a word away from sinking her dagger into his chest, so why had he been so taken with her superior bloodkin? The one the cult actually adored and followed, the one who soaked the streets in blood and flayed anyone the God of Murder casted his bloodied gaze upon? Orin was beautiful… If you enjoyed the beauty of the vampiric quality. But even her looks never had him in the same breathless chokehold your eyes did. 

He remembered that one look from you had his heart beating faster, with saliva pooling on his tongue. Even before the two of you were formally acquainted. The first moment he saw you, surrounded by the cultists of your father, to him you were majestic. Hells, you weren’t in any sort of garb that demanded worship, just the clothes you usually wore in the evening he later realized. But it didn't matter. The way you held yourself, with your eyes cold and collected, even when he could smell the blood on your skin. You were a master of your craft, of your art. While other Bhaal worshippers would dedicate themselves to him with fits of fury and love, smearing themselves with the hot blood of their victims, you were methodical. 

You were perfect. No wonder you were his chosen. Not an amateur like Orin. 

Gortash’s fingers idly skimmed over the map of the Sword Coast on his desk, swirling his goblet of wine, the red inching closer and closer to the rim with every motion. It was the same brand that you had shared with him before Orin had taken your place. 

After you deigned to let him taste your body again, he had poured two chalices, hoping to dull your senses and keep you away from the ruins you lived in, under the city. You had just given a half smile at him and sipped upon the dark red liquid, your form still lovely and bare. He could still recall your last words with each other, your tongue stained red with the wine. 

“It seems we’re on a precipice.” You hummed, flicking the dagger planted into the map of Elturel. “Tomorrow I journey to Thorm and then it shall all be in motion. Properly. No more waiting.” 

“Have I ever complimented you on your pillow talk?” Gortash chuckled, skimming over the other bottles of wine lining his bureau, trying to find one that you’d enjoy enough to stay longer. 

You didn’t say anything, just a throaty chuckle he basked in. He had come a long way for being a whipping boy for Raphael in the House of Hope. Now he was here, just a few weeks out from getting everything he could have ever wanted. Gortash remembers the nights he used to sleep with a knife under his pillow, even when Karlach had been stationed outside of his door. No longer would he feel the cold blade under the fabric by his cheek, for now he slept with the warm body of a weapon far greater next to him. If only you would stop leaving his side to be with the fanatics that swarmed you with adoration and pleas to watch you work. 

“The reason you came crawling to me in the first place was for the Absolute’s Plan. Nothing gets you excited more than the prospect of your future power, does it?” The way your teeth glinted as you looked at him in the flickering candlelight had his breath stilling in his throat. Excitement pooled in his stomach and he made his way back over to you, even as you rolled your eyes and finished your wine. 

“You know me so well.” He murmured, dragging his roughened palm across your stomach before pressing a kiss against your neck, inching his lips up to your jaw. 

You hummed at the feeling, but unlike a few hours before, you didn’t relax into his wandering hands. 

“This was a pleasant distraction. However, I must go do the rites for my Father before I leave.” 

Would he have let you leave if he had known Orin would attempt to destroy all that you were? He didn’t know about that. Gortash would have to see. He was interested in learning about this new form of yours, memory riddled with holes. Were you just as ruthless as you once had been? Would you tear Orin limb from limb as you should, for even daring to try and take your place? 

The side of his mouth tilted in a crooked smirk, taking a sip from his goblet, letting the flavor soak into his tongue before he swallowed. 

Gortash saw a chance for something new, now that you were finally back in Baldur’s Gate. You weren’t one of the Chosen, not anymore. You would have to reclaim your power… And he was more than happy to offer himself up for your bloodied hands, to… Help you get your life back. 

Be a crutch that you would stumble without. You’d never be as you once were, at least in the upcoming execution of the plan, unable to earn back the position of an untouchable. But he could bring you back up, as his very own weapon this time. 

The Dark Urge that infested your being, Bhaal’s very own Chosen child, he’d have it. He’d have you. The blade he kept close to his body, with the blade that kissed his skin and threatened to split it open, but it never did. 

Gortash hummed at the thought, before wetting his thumb and forefinger with his tongue, reaching out to extinguish the candle by his bedside and returned to the bed, one of the pillow’s still faintly smelling like you. 

Down by the Elfsong Tavern, in the rented rooms Astarion was once so pleased about, the vampire spawn lay awake, feeling your breath against his collarbones from where you lay sleeping next to him. Once, it would be the norm that he was awake at night, only to doze during the day, but that hadn’t been the case for weeks now, not since he had the tadpole squirm in between his eyeball and the lid. 

But it wasn’t his urge to go hunt the streets of Baldur’s Gate once more, to reacquaint himself with the habitat of his prey, that kept him up. It was his own thoughts. 

Soon enough, he’d have to return to Cazador, who thought he could use him as a weapon for his own ascension. Astarion knew it wouldn’t happen. But now, his thoughts would stray from his own master, to the one that proclaimed himself as yours. 

Yours. Your… Master? Your past lover? Your conspirator in arms? 

In Moonrise, after Raphael’s deal, he had been full of swagger and confidence to return to his home, to face Cazador, with you by his side. Even the night where you shook him awake and told him the Urge was about to hurt him, forcing him to tie you down and sit with you till morning…. Even that night hadn’t shaken his confidence. 

So why did meeting Gortash erase it? 

Astarion sighed through his nose, rolling his eyes at his own string of pesky thoughts. He was being foolish. Weak. You wouldn’t abandon him for some freshly anointed Duke with hair riddled with split ends and hungry eyes. 

He’d make sure of it. 

[valentine6athena]

Dabi with a Witch s/o

This is my first time posting on here but I’m a witch and the burnt boi brainrot is REAL

CW: 18+ dom! Reader, sub! Character, witchcraft, love spells, 🍃, violence, curses/hexes, wax play, chastity cages, milking,

He’s so confused when you tell him you’re a witch 😭 he’s like ‘huh??? Like you mean your quirk??’ But once you explain it to him he doesn’t really care tbh.

Doesn’t understand why he’s so infatuated with you?? He honestly thinks you cast a love spell on him and you’re like ‘Nah hon, I’m just that good.’

Once y’all actually get together he’s at your beck and call, need something for a ritual? He’s already digging through your kitchen looking for it. Need to light a candle? He’s got a fire quirk for a reason. And if you accidentally spill some hot wax on his chest well then that’s just a bonus 🤷‍♀️

Shigaraki asks what that weird design sewed into his jacket is, he simply shrugs and replies ‘dunno, guess my s/o got bored.’ You overhear and decide that he doesn’t need to know that ‘weird design’ is a protection sigil to keep him safe during battle.

Is very confused when he finds a jar sealed with wax in his jacket pocket, so he looks up the ingredients that he can see inside and does not like the way his stomach fills with butterflies when he reads that they’re common ingredients in protection and good luck spells.

After constantly joking about it, you ask if you can actually put a love spell on him to strengthen yalls bond, he agrees because he honestly doesn’t expect it to affect him, not that he doesn’t believe in you or your abilities, but because he already loves you so much, he didn’t believe he could feel anymore love for you than he already did.

And plus he’s not gonna complain when you have him on his back, writhing under you as you you milk him for all he’s worth because you need his cum for the spell, he’s so fucked out after it that he can’t even remember you asking him in the first place.

So imagine his surprise when he suddenly can’t breathe when you’re not in the same room, when he needs you to function normally, he needs you to touch him, to look at him, to talk to him. He’s so needy and he’s so confused…until he sees a little jar sealed with red wax hung from a chain around your neck, right next to the key to his cock cage..

Is very confused when you hand him a drink after he’d been bitchy all day, it’s pretty, with a lime and orange slice floating in it, after taking a sip he visibly perks up before completely downing it all in one go, he looks at you with quirked brow and asks what your witchy ass cooked up this time, you look at him with a smirk and reply ‘just a lil thing I like to call my moody Judy potion.’ He looks at you with a dead stare before huffing and you catch a glimpse of a smile as he rolls his eyes and hugs you from behind.

He looks at you questioningly as you massage some kind of oil into your scalp and around your third eye, he asks you what it’s for, and you reply that it’s for easing nightmares before asking if he wants some, he says sure, cause hey, any excuse for a free head massage, and is pleasantly surprised when he sleeps like a log. He refuses to admit it, but that’s probably the best he’s slept in years.

Thinks it’s weird that you put lavender in your blunt before rolling it and taking a hit, so he leans over and puts his mouth over yours as you exhale the smoke. So yeah long story short, lavender is his favorite scent now cause it reminds him of you.

Is about to get on one knee when you offer to curse endeavor for him, and thinks you look unbelievably sexy sitting in the middle of his apartment, dressed in a skimpy outfit, surrounded by black and red candles, sprinkling dead bugs, nails, vinegar, and poisonous plants on to a picture of his asshole father, and is overjoyed when you ask him to do the honors of lighting the picture ablaze.

Thinks is so cool that you can fuck people up on the battlefield and spiritually

He’s low key scared of you 😭

Like he has watched you bash someones head in with a quartz tower he is not fucking around and finding out

And he witnessed first hand how hard endeavors PR team had to work after that lil curse. He has no doubt that you could kill him with a curse…or hell just one of your big ass crystals and a slingshot would do the trick.

He does love you though, and his fear of you low key makes him horny LMAO

Him helping you light candles and incense my heart-

Loves how you just straight up tell demons and entities to fuck off when you’re cleansing, he’s convinced you have no sense of fear.

He picks up pretty rocks and flowers he thinks you could use in spellwork

[sugudoe]

Hey there! New follower here 👀 heard your ask is open (disclaimer: it's been a while since I've sent asks so I forgot how to format these) I was wondering if you could matchmake me with a character of your choice 🫶🏼

My characteristics:

• I'm an academic girlie and like helping peoplel around me (I take a lot of leader roles in uni)

•I can be quite bitchy in a way because I don't tolerate shit (or you can call it headstrong)

•I think I have a pretty good moral compass

•Very reasonable and logical when it comes to problems

•People say that I'm an independent woman (I am but I also secretly want to be babied by my S/O

•Plays volleyball

•Physically chubby but confident with my body

•Loves books, reading, and dancing

Thank you so much! On another note I hope we can interact more in the future, I'm looking forward to new moots/friends on this app🫶🏼🥹

hii luv, first of all, i want to say that you seem like a role model, i love intelligent strong woman! and pls, let’s interact, i would love to as well.

✶ 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: nanami and gojo.

ps: this are different relationships, not a throuple.

The thing that made Nanami Kento entranced by you was your strong input on whatever displeased you. Some people might think you’re an unpleasant company, but he loves to hear your complains on anything, mostly because he shares them as well. You both are the couple that “tsk.” whenever anyone pisses you off, and side eye each other, as a way of saying “Are you seeing what I’m seeing?”

This man loves your independence, he is a feminist (that’s a fact), he encourages you to do anything in this world, says it’s all yours to conquer. But, let’s be real, you haven’t payed for anything since he started to take you out. You dare whine, although is something you secretly loves, Nanami just smirks. He knows you, this facade you are putting only makes his smile larger. Nanami believes your money is yours and his money is for the both of you.

Your relationship is a very mature one, something the two of you are grateful for, because whenever a problem arrives or there is a slightly miscommunication, you sit down and talk your feelings to the other — that’s how you both have engraved in your minds the other’s mannerisms.

Whatever your job is, your academic inclination makes you his students’s favorite person to go whenever in need of help. Yuuji is always scratching his head with homework but you teach him well, Megumi is smart himself and just need clarification in some topics, while Nobara tries to girly talk with you. Your way of teaching her is through painting her nails and pretending the subject is gossip, as a result, her grades are top of the class.

Nanami tries to give you space when the students are over at your house individually, studying in your dinning table, but he’s always pulled by something and sits on your sofa, catching glimpses of you teaching, it makes his heart swell with pride and love — he hopes in the future is you with your babies, actually.

Nanami, as said before, loves to spoil you. He knows all your tastes, once every three weeks he stalks your cart from your favorite stores’s app and chooses what to buy. All is gifted to you with a bouquet of different flowers surrounding your favorite one and sweets. The audacity he has to be the most perfect man ever.

He does take you by surprise with a small weekend getaway for a little island, presenting you with tanning, all massages he can provide and playing volleyball with you. He is not as good as you, but Nanami can make some points. He blames the sand or sun on his skin, forgetting he have sunglasses on.

You love your body, Nanami loves it more. He likes to buy the dresses for your most expensive date nights, all eyes on you, but only his matter. He knows that, that fuels him a lot. Seeing you in summer dresses and bikinis does make him salivate — is summer, hot and sweaty, but he is by your side all the time. You haven’t applied sunscreen on your self since you arrived, his hands do it for you.

Every night on the trip, and every night on your home dates, Nanami and you are always at some point slow dancing to a calm song in the background, while you both whisper love confessions and asks about the day. He kisses your head every chance he has, and you peck his lips in response.

Loving Nanami is an easy task, you both fit each other perfectly, like mind reading. He loves to spoil you and at the same time to let you be the strong woman you are, letting to baby you inside your house, where all he does is hug you and say many many many “I love you.”

────〃✿ FUN FACTS.

◛ ₊· What made him fall for you was you snapping and shouting at Gojo — it was also the first time ever he saw you.

◛ ₊· He has a collection of watches to wear on special days, some of those he bought with a matching bracelet to always use with you.

◛ ₊· You used to be a jujutsu sorcerer, by your headstrong and moral compass, I think you would leave it all at some point after meeting Nanami to purchase a normal career, he hopes secretly to do the same some day and starts a new life with you.

◛ ₊· In the future, you both would be living in a coastal area, he is going be a bakery owner, making pastries, and his most famous piece is named after you.

──── ✿ ──── ✿ ──── ✿ ────

Gojo Satoru loves to be an annoying ass, but annoying you specifically has his knees weak. It’s not that he is an asshole, he just likes to pretend to be so he will get a reaction out of you — he always succeed.

Let’s say that you are still studying, maybe even purchasing a doctorate. Satoru is the proudest person ever, but he still will come behind you on your desk and kiss your most sensitive spot on your neck and behind your ears. His tactic works, unfortunately.

Every exam season, on your last one, Gojo always comes picks you up in his clearly expensive car, with bouquets and chocolate. He once tried holding a sign of ���so proud of you” but you threatened to empty his snack drawer.

Gojo is a sucker for your “bitchy” personality. Wether is directed to him or anyone else, he loves how snappy you become and your comebacks. That’s why he loves to get you worked up, kissing your angry self is something he desires from time to time.

You try to make sure your boyfriend knows how important your independence is for you, but Satoru doesn’t care. He sends you the money for your whole school tuition, so you can leave your part time shitty job and focus on college (you begrudgingly accepts), he wants you to achieve your dreams, and hard work is really important to build character, but Gojo thinks you already are perfect and humble, and you have the right to have things easier — he is begging for you to use his money.

He pays for everything the two of you do, he only lets you pay for his sweet treats from time to time. Satoru loves the date nights and random trips to anywhere in the world, but mostly he actually loves paying for anything college related, he wants you to achieve your dreams. Besides the tuition, he gives you a new notebook, ipad, comfortable clothes, pays for any side courses you may want to take and study trips for conventions.

Satoru may be annoying, but he is the most supporting person ever. If any presentation you have is open to the public, your man is going. After, he gives you a lot of hugs and takes you out to dinner in any place you want.

Gojo does enjoy to test your buttons, but in sincerity, you would’ve never chose any other way! A man who worships any achievement of yours, that encourages all your desires and still, at the end of the day, hidden in your apartment, treats your as if you were a delicate flower to his touches and kisses, yeah, you are not letting him go — and he doesn’t want that either.

────〃✿ FUN FACTS.

◛ ₊· Gojo first thought of you was how pretty you looked with a scowl on your face.

◛ ₊· If given the chance to change his eye color, he would chose yours.

◛ ₊· Whenever you are studying in your house, he likes to sit by your side. Once he told you that he read somewhere the best way to learn something, is to teach others. He may be lost in whatever you are explaining to him, but he is wonderstruck with how smart and perfect you are.

◛ ₊· He loves to feed you his favorite candies so he can kiss you after and taste them on you.

◛ ₊· Satoru is easily satisfied! You once paid for strawberry ice cream, randomly, and he was the sappiest person on the planet for the rest of the day.

[evileyekabuki]

BULLET CLUB

PARTNERS IN CRIME

EL PHANTASMO x YASMINA TETSUYA

The Bullet Club locker room was buzzing with energy. ELP sat in his chair, a cocky grin on his face, his IWGP Intercontinental Championship belt casually draped over his shoulder. Yasmina, sporting her own Bullet Club gear, entered the room with a confident stride. She smiled at ELP, approaching his side and taking a seat on the arm rest of the chair.

ELP: "Well, well... if it isn't my favorite manager and partner in crime."

He chuckled, running a hand through his hair as he looked sideways at her.

Yasmina leaned back against the chair, her arms crossed, and a smirk on her lips. She was infamous for her bitchy attitude and mean girl personality. Her loyalty was undeniably to ELP and Bullet Club.

Yasmina: "You damn right I am. The hottest manager in all of New Japan, and don't you forget it, baby."

She smirked, a hint of playful mockery in her tone. ELP rolled his eyes, but a smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth.

ELP chuckled, his smirk growing wider. He reached up, wrapping his arm around Yasmina’s waist and gently pulling her closer to him.

ELP: "Oh, I wouldn’t dream of forgetting it, sweetheart. You're irreplaceable."

He grinned, his eyes glimmering with a mix of admiration and mischief. He couldn’t deny that he loved her bitchy attitude, it spiced things up. It was part of her charm, after all. He gives her thigh a squeeze before looking back at his championship.

Yasmina, affectionately known as "Star Girl" in the wrestling industry, was a force to be reckoned with both inside and outside the ring, radiated an air of self-confidence that couldn’t be matched by anyone. She was the center of attention wherever she went, and everyone in the locker room knew it. She knew she was the star of the show, and she wasn’t afraid to make others aware of it. While her self-absorbed behavior could be off-putting to some, there was no denying that she had a magnetic presence that drew people in. She believed wholeheartedly that she was the center of attention and the star of every show. Her loyalty to ELP and Bullet Club was unwavering, but she made it clear that her own ambitions and goals always came first. Yasmina demanded respect and believed she deserved nothing less than the spotlight being solely on her. But beneath her mean girl persona, there was a soft spot reserved just for her partner, ELP.

ELP knew deep down that Yasmina had her own goals and dreams, and he respected her for it. He enjoyed her fiery attitude and the way she commanded attention. But in private moments, he knew there was a different side to her, a side she only showed to him.

ELP pulled her onto his lap, his arm still wrapped around her waist, holding her close to him, the championship belt now resting in his other hand.

ELP: "You know, sweetheart, your attitude might scare some people away, but not me. I see right through it."

Yasmina tried to maintain her cool and aloof demeanor, but as ELP pulled her onto his lap and wrapped his arm around her, her defenses started to crumble. Suddenly, the sassy and confident facade she wore around others melted away, and a different side of her was revealed.

She blushed faintly at his words and playfully swatted his chest.

Yasmina: "Hey, don’t go getting all soft on me, dumbass."

She scolded, even though her voice lacked any real bite. Her eyes held a hint of vulnerability, a look that was rarely seen on her face.

ELP chuckled, his eyes sparkling with a mix of affection and teasing mischief. He knew he was peeling back the layers of her tough exterior, and he couldn’t help but be a little smug about it.

He tightened his arm around her waist, pulling her even closer, his fingers gently brushing against the bare skin of her midriff. He smirked as he looked up at her, his voice dropping to a whisper as he spoke.

ELP: "Oh, sweetheart, you and I both know I’m not the one who’s getting soft here."

Yasmina's initial attempt at maintaining her cool and aloof demeanor was fading, her defenses starting to crumble in ELP's arms. As he pulled her closer and whispered in her ear, she felt a flutter in her chest, her heart racing ever so slightly.

She tried to fight it, to retain her tough exterior, but his gaze and his presence were irresistible. She let out a soft sigh, her expression softening as she looked down at him, her eyes flickering between defiance and vulnerability.

Yasmina: "Dammit, ELP. You know what you do to me...

ELP's smirk widened as he saw the range of emotions fluttering across her face. He knew he had her right where he wanted, caught between her tough facade and the genuine vulnerability she tried so hard to hide. It was a sight reserved only for his eyes, and he relished it.

He gently cupped her cheek in his hand, his thumb tracing along her jawline, feeling the slight hitch in her breathing as their eyes met.

ELP: "Hey, don’t blame me for knowing how to push your buttons."

Yasmina finally gave in to the magnetic pull she felt towards ELP, her arms wrapping around his neck as she leaned her head against his shoulder. She could no longer fight the mixture of emotions bubbling inside her, a part of her reveling in the comfort of his embrace and the undeniable connection between them.

ELP felt her surrender, her arms wrapping around him as she leaned into him. He couldn’t help but let out a soft hum of contentment at her surrender. He tightened his grip around her waist, holding her firmly against him, relishing in the connection and intimacy between them.

He rested his chin on the top of her head, his fingers gently running through her hair, enjoying the moment of vulnerability she had allowed him to see.

ELP: "There you are… my sweet, Star Girl."

Yasmina allowed her guard to drop completely, her eyes closing as she relaxes fully into ELP's embrace. For a moment, her usual tough facade is replaced by a more vulnerable, softer side. She revels in the comfort and security she feels in his arms, the sense of being seen and understood. She takes a slow, deep breath, her head resting against ELP's shoulder, as she allows herself to bask in the quiet intimacy between them. The soft sounds of their breaths intertwine, creating a soothing, comforting rhythm.

[spicysix]

「eddie munson X gn!reader • roadtrip!AU」

2.5k words | prev | next | masterlist | ao3 warnings: none! this is just a fluffy filler! songs of the chapter: let me know - KISS • me and bobby mcgee - janis joplin

Tuesday, July 29

Eddie had really ordered food and was really watching Golden Girls on the TV when you woke up a few hours later, and the sun had set already. You giggled and stretched, went to the bathroom, and when you came back he had your meal ready  — an entire pizza for you and an entire pizza for him. You sat side by side, backs to the headboard, shoulders touching, sharing warmth. It felt so good. It felt simple.

You talked a lot, too. At first, you just got to know each other better. You told Eddie more about your childhood and your grandma, her hippie ways that you knew your mother had inherited from the pictures around your childhood home. The jewelry and bijous you kept from both of them, still your favorites to this day, and how they were all that was left of them for you to keep.

Eddie, in return, talked about his own childhood with Wayne, how he’d spend his summers with him before fully moving in, how Wayne showed him his hobbies and Eddie learned how to work on cars, fish and play his guitar. He said he looked forward to taking Wayne on a grand fishing trip one day hopefully, how he’d love to be one of those people on little boats fishing on Lewis Lake as you had seen the day before.

Then, he got up from the bed, discarded the empty pizza boxes and came back with his guitar case. Opened it in front of the two of you, and the guitar inside it was the same one he used to lure the bats in the Upside Down. You looked at it for a minute too long. She was beautiful. But she also gave you some bad chills.

“I haven’t played her ever since that night.” His voice was barely above a whisper, and when you looked at him you thought you’d never seen him more sad. “Couldn’t.”

You didn’t know what to say to that, so you just rested your hand on top of his knee. He kept watching the guitar, and you kept watching him, for what felt like ages. Suddenly, he took a deep breath and took her out of the case, holding her as one should hold a guitar.

“What’s your favorite song?” he asked. You were startled and a mix of feeling honored and dreading.

“You don’t have to-” he cut you off.

“I want to. C’mon. Your favorite?”

You answered him and thankfully he knew that one. Thought about it for a while before tentatively stringing the cords of his guitar. The sound wasn’t loud, and it felt a little off without an amp plugged in, but you could still recognize it.

He just hummed along for the first verse before looking up at you for just a second. “I don’t know the lyrics, you gotta sing,” he said and smirked before looking down to see what his fingers were doing again.

You laughed and sang along, off-key as always but it didn’t seem to matter. You were having fun, and judging by the wide grin on Eddie’s lips, so was he. He finished your song and you clapped with enthusiasm before he followed with a song of his own choice. You recognized it from one of his tapes, and this time you were the one just humming as he sang out loud.

When he finished that one, he rested the guitar back on its case and opened and closed his hands in fists a few times.

“Long time without playing, I’m rusty,” he said with a half-smile, half-grimace, before getting up to put the now-closed case back near his bags where it was before.

In the meantime, you tucked yourself under the sheets and settled to watch some more Golden Girls before sleeping again. Eddie chuckled when he saw you, but didn’t waste his time before doing the same and lying on his side facing you, his fingers once again caressing your cheeks.

“Y’know, I was going to ask you to drive because my feet hurt like hell from all the walking with the wrong shoes yesterday,” he started, “But you were being so bitchy I decided it was best not to,” he finished with a smirk.

You knew it was a joke, that he was teasing you, but you felt the guilt bubbling inside your tummy nonetheless.

“I’m sorry, Eddie. I shouldn’t have acted so passive-aggressively,” you murmured while looking down, but he cupped your face and made you look at him again.

“Hey, no, it’s okay. I didn’t act on it too.”

“Yeah, but you didn’t treat me like shit all day.”

He called your name with a sigh, “You didn’t treat me like shit, you were just a bit moody. You apologized, it’s past now, right?” You nodded. “Kitten just gets grouchy without kisses, huh?”

There was a smirk on his lips as he leaned in to kiss your face, and you giggled. You remembered how you compared him to a feral kitten when your journey had just started and he was cagey and grumpy, and you now felt like you had finally won his undoubting trust. It was both funny and endearing how he found a way to nickname you the same thing in return.

“You’re ridiculous,” you said with a weak slap to his arm.

“Hey! No name-calling, don’t go bitchy again.” You snorted and he gave you a peck on the lips before pulling back and staring right into your eyes, going serious again. “Just... Let’s talk, okay? We don’t wanna complicate it, right, so we have to talk.”

You nodded again and he smiled sweetly before leaning back in and kissing you once more. Your stomach was swirling the most delicious of turns as his hand slipped from your face to the back of your neck, bringing your faces impossibly closer. You once again let your hands get lost in his mane, increasing his frizz and tangling his hair, but he didn’t seem to mind. His tongue was slow and lazy moving against yours, no rush, no hurry, and his hands were leaving warm traces on your skin under your shirt.

Even if leisurely, the pace still escalated and soon enough he was practically sitting on your thighs and taking off his shirt before diving back to kiss your neck, leaving wet kisses and nibbles along the way. Your hands were going up and down his shoulder blades and you couldn’t hold back your sighs as his fingers traced your chest over your shirt. You scratched his back and he hissed in delight before pulling back.

Only then you realized you hadn’t seen him without his shirt before.

You traced his scars as gently as you could. They weren’t as pink or as jutting as the ones on his neck and jaw, probably from being less exposed to the sun. Eddie watched you studying him.

“Do they hurt?” you asked, not taking your eyes or your fingers off his scars.

“Not really. Sometimes they’re sore, and if I overuse my abs it can be a little painful, but it’s not like I’m hitting the gym every day,” he answered with a snort and you smiled.

You sat up with him still on your lap and bowed down to kiss his skin tenderly. You felt him shudder under your fingertips, and the goosebumps that waved through him. You started at the ones near his hips and went up until you reached his chest. You couldn’t help but chuckle at the fact that his left nipple was missing. You licked the skin where it once was and he sighed.

“Do you miss it?” you asked, smile still pressed against his skin as you looked at him from under your eyelashes.

“Sometimes, I mean, it’s kinda weird to have just one.” He laughed and you crossed his chest to kiss the other one still remaining.

“Was that one also pierced?” you asked again, feeling the cold of the barbell against your lips and giving it a gentle tug with your teeth.

Eddie hissed. “Yeah, it was.”

He didn’t wait for you to ask any more questions before grabbing your jaw, pulling you away from his chest, and leaning down to kiss you again. His tongue invaded your mouth immediately, and it was fiercer this time, faster, more desperate.

You felt like your body was on fire.

He maneuvered the two of you until you were lying down again and he was in between your legs, your ankles crossed behind his back. He was slowly grinding on you and you couldn’t help but moan when his hand reached up and he teased your nipple with his calloused fingers. He laughed against your skin where his face was pressed to your neck before giving it a kiss.

“Should we keep it simple?” he asked and for a second you wanted to kill him, but he was right. You weren’t sure if you were ready for more just yet.

You nodded and his hand left your chest, coming to rest over your shirt again as he kissed you slowly to help you down through your highs. You cupped his face in return and soothed the scars on his jaw and neck just as you did to the ones on his torso, and you could feel each other’s smiles against your lips.

“Do you need another cold shower?” he asked, that teasing smirk again and you laughed loudly.

“Let’s just sleep,” you answered as you got up to close the curtains and turn off the lights. You didn’t turn off the TV, just lowered the volume so the light of it was still illuminating the bed and the low humming of Golden Girls could help lull you to sleep.

As you lied down beside him again, he didn’t wait until he fell asleep this time, he just caged you on his embrace and buried his face on your neck again while still conscious. It felt like pure bliss once more, and you could bet a few dollars that you both went down to slumber in synchrony.

Wednesday, July 30

As you woke up the next day, late in the morning, you noticed how much you needed that good night of deep rest. Your body was feeling limp, and your eyes were a little heavy, but it felt all so worth it.

Eddie woke up as you were in the bathroom, and as you left he was changing his clothes into something he could wear outside.

“Thought we could go for a walk?” he asked, and you nodded before grabbing some clothes of your own to change into.

It wasn’t long before you were in the van again, Eddie smiling wide and excitedly singing along to KISS making your mood also go high up. No map in hand, no place to go, no plan to follow. You were simply driving around the town and watching as it passed you by. Missoula was a very touristy place, with a lot of outdoor options to enjoy the nature, and everywhere you looked you saw people who were ready to go on trails and hikes.

The sun was covered by clouds, a summer rain approaching, but it still wasn’t enough to sour your and Eddie’s moods. You looked at him across the front bench of the van, a loud guitar riff echoing and vibrating through your soul, his smile big and bright and for your eyes only, and you felt better than you did in a good while.

Eventually you reached a park and you took your sweet time walking around it, seeing the families having their fun, enjoying the cooler weather, and Eddie held your hand in his as if it was his second nature to do so. You pointed out trees and plants and he picked up a flower for you.

“Is this against the park’s rules? Am I killing nature?” he asked as he handed you a few dandelions, whites and yellows alike.

“Well, if it is let’s get out before the park cops catch us,” you answered with a laugh and he held your hand as he pulled you forward, the two of you practically running and laughing loudly, unbothered by the people staring.

You left the park not much later, the dandelions peeking from the back pocket of your shorts, and headed downtown where you found a records store. You and Eddie looked through the tapes and vinyls and when you found Joplin’s “Pearl” you couldn’t help but whine in frustration.

“This is my favorite of hers,” you said, and Eddie came from where he was looking through the metal tapes.

“It’s her best one. You should get it.”

You chuckled. “And play it where, Eddie?”

He shrugged with a smile. “We’ll get a record player when we arrive at wherever we’re going.”

He picked up the vinyl with one of his hands, using the other to grab yours once more and dragging you to a thankfully empty private listening room for you to listen to the record. He placed it in place on the player, Side B first because he was weird that way, carefully setting down the needle in a random song instead of the beginning.

You recognized the guitar immediately and turned to Eddie with a big smile.

“This song is very fitting, I think. Fate’s messing with us.”

He chuckled and grabbed your hand to spin you once and twice in the tiny space of the room and you couldn’t help but giggle.

“I was playing soft while Bobby sang the blues, windshield wipers slapping time,” you sang along and Eddie smiled as he watched you, his hand still on yours. “I was holding Bobby’s hand in mine, we sang every song that driver knew.” You threw him a pointing look and he laughed loudly again.

“Yeah, okay, it’s a fitting song,” he admitted.

“Freedom’s just another word for nothing left to lose,” you sang again, and he nodded with the lyrics. “Yeah, feeling good was easy, Lord, when he sang the blues. Yeah, feeling good was good enough for me.”

He used the hand still on yours to pull you closer to him, his chest pressed to yours as his hand moved to your waist and the other found the nape of your neck.

“Good enough for me and my Bobby McGee.”

He kissed you then, as Janis’ voice still surrounded you, and you didn’t think you’d ever get used to it, or if you’d ever get tired of it, of his lips on yours. Your hands found his shoulders and you were still swaying softly to the sides as his tongue caressed yours and you chuckled into the kiss as you thought about calling him Bobby from now on. You felt his smile against your lips, and he didn’t know what you were thinking, but you thought it was enough to know that kissing you made him as happy as kissing him made you. It was sweet, and hungry, and as fitting as the song was for the two of you.

Lord, I called him my lover I called him my man I said I called him my lover, did the best the best I can

end notes: we're approaching the end and i'm not ready for it

taglist (is open!): @amira0303 @rupsmorge @wyverntatty

[boatzandhoez]

Caught My Eye

In which, Y/N is the queen bee of school, and quiet, nerdy boy, Harry, happens to catch her eye.

Warnings: bullying?…

A/N: This is my first post on Tumblr…hope you enjoy :)

(3.2k+ words)

Y/N taps her acrylic white French tip nails on the worn out wooden desk. Her chin rests in the palm of her hand. Her other hand is occupied with twirling a strand of her hair and tapping her nails.

She sighs, not paying any mind to the teacher in front of her going on about some war that happened. Y/N isn’t too sure if she’s being honest.

She sits, counting down the minutes on the digital clock above the door, waiting until she can leave her awfully boring class that happens right before lunch.

Y/N hears her phone vibrate on her desk. She glances over at the teacher, making sure the older man isn’t looking at her. She concludes that it’s safe to check her phone, seeing that her teacher is rambling on about whatever it is he is teaching.

She picks up her phone, a small smirk reaches her lips as she reads the text message in front of her. She bits the inside of her cheek, thinking of something to reply back.

Conner

you look hot in that outfit

Y/N

do I now?

Conner

yeah really fuckin hot

She’s not wearing anything special, just her school uniform, which consists of a soft grey short sleeve polo, with a blue crewneck overtop, a black pleated skirt, black tights, and Y/N paired her outfit with platform back and white vans.

That or she usually will wear a pair of loafers on the day she feels particularly inclined to dressing up a bit more, but today she wanted to dress down as much as possible while still wearing her uniform.

Y/N smiles down at her phone, rolling her eyes. She loves the little ego boost she is getting from the compliment, but she knows that Conner only is trying to get her to fuck him later on.

Y/N is used to this, boys doing whatever they can to gain her attention. Y/N is the most popular girl in school after all.

Y/N isn’t sure how she became popular, but growing up, people always gravitated towards her. Girls wanted to be her friend, boys wanted to be her boyfriend, and people were always fixated on what she was doing.

It also helps that Y/N is beautiful. She’s not beautiful in the way that is innocent, like the colors yellow, and baby pink. She’s beautiful in a seductive way, luring you in, and hooking you on her drug-like induced aura.

Another reason she’s popular is her personality. Y/N is very blunt, she speaks her mind, has no filter, and will destroy anyone who tries to get in her way.

She isn't mean though. She’s only mean when someone crosses her, or irritates her, or if she’s just in a bad mood, but honestly Y/N isn’t rude. She’s not the type of person to make fun of someone based on what they are wearing, or the status they hold. Now, Y/N can admit, she doesn’t go out of her way to talk to people socially below her, but she’s not a bitch to them either.

Y/N is what she likes to refer to, as a half mean girl. She’s not bitchy 24/7, but she certainly isn’t some bubbly nice popular girl that secretly hates her friends, and is a nerd at the core.

Y/N is confident, a seductress, she’s rich, has nice clothes, a nice car, a huge house to go home to everyday. She has lots of friends, but Josie, and Kate are her two favorites. She gets whatever she sets her mind to. She can be manipulative if it comes down to it.

Y/N is that bitch, and she’s well aware.

She chooses not to respond to Conner, instead, she shuts her phone off, and goes back to staring at the clock.

The minutes tick by slowly, Y/N begins to feel sleepy from the boring lecture. Like heaven singing in her ears, the bell rings.

Y/N wastes no time grabbing her Lululemon backpack, and flinging it over her shoulder. She enters the crowded hall, her head held high in the air, as she walks.

People part like the Red Sea to move out of her way. No one dares get in her way, which Y/N is very smug about. She loves the power she has over everybody.

“Hi, Y/N.” Kate, one of Y/N’s best friends walks up next to her, threading their arms together. “How are you?”

“Hi, Kate. I’m doing good.” Y/N replies with a soft smile.

“You’re not hung over from last night?” Kate furrows her brows, tilting an accusing head at Y/N.

Y/N returns the same expression, shaking her head. “No, I’m not. Should I be?”

“Oh, no, not at all.” Kate rushes out in one breath.

“Then why are you looking at me like that?” Y/N raises an accusing brow at her friend, which makes her squirm a little. One thing about Y/N is when she is serious, she is extremely intimidating.

“Oh, it’s nothing really, I promise, it’s just you know, we all drank so much last night. I have a small headache, and I thought you would too.”

“I can handle my alcohol Kate. I’m not Payton.” Y/N rolls her eyes, huffing. She hates Payton with a passion.

Payton is a girl that hangs around them, but is extremely annoying, and for the life of her cannot drink. She always blacks out ruining the fun for everyone, plus, she tries to hook up with all the guys Y/N talks.

That part doesn’t bother her that much, it truly is how much the girl tries to pry into Y/N’s life like she has some spot claimed in it.

Y/N sleeps around pretty often. She loves sex, it’s a lot of fun, plus an orgasm is one of her favorite remedies to distress. She mainly sleeps with guys on the football team because their stamina is insane from kicking balls all day.

She doesn't, however, go farther than that. She has never been interested in a guy past fucking them. A lot of the guys she fucks egos are too big for her to tolorate. She will either ignore them the next day, or if she thinks they are good enough, will tell them she only wants them for sex, and is willing to start a sort of fuck buddy relationship.

A real relationship with feelings, sweet talking, confessions of love, holding hands, giving innocent kisses, dreaming of the person, and so on and so forth is something Y/N has no desire for.

Or at least, that’s what she tells herself, but like most people who claim they aren’t into dating, there is a small part of her that does think about being with someone romantically, and her tummy flutters.

“Hey Peyton is a lightweight, give her a break.” Kate nudges Y/N in her side, giggling as Y/N rolls her eyes at her statement.

“Then she shouldn’t try and finish an entire bottle everytime we decide to drink, and get confused when everyone is annoyed with her the next day from all the shenanigans she put on through the night.” Y/N reasons, giving her friend a pointed look.

Kate simply shakes her head, and pulls Y/N closer to her body as they walk down the hall, making their way outside, towards the lunch table scattered around.

Y/N attends a prestigious private school. Any parents who have a lump sum of wealth send their kid there.

Uniforms are something Y/N has to wear everyday which annoys her because she has a serious addiction to shopping. She has so many clothes in her closet that she really only gets to wear and appreciate two days out of the whole week.

Y/N being popular however means she has a very lively social life, and it’s rare for her to not have anything to do during the weekdays.

Usually it’s either going to one of her friends' houses to hang, or going to the mall, or going out to eat. Sometimes it’s a small kickback, or a smoke sesh. No matter what, Y/N is booked and busy, so her clothes get some love, but not as much as she wants to give out.

Y/N shivers at the slight breeze blowing outside. Y/N sighs as she looks at the gray cloudy sky, a sight that she is used to looking at.

From a distance Y/N can see the group of people she subjects herself to hanging out with. Y/N doesn’t mind hanging out with them, but she isn’t excited to see the same faces everyday.

“Hey chica.” Conner whistles as the two girls approach the table. Conner taps the empty part of the bench next to him, gesturing for her to take a seat.

She gives him a knowing smirk, and struts to the spot taking a seat. As she sits she makes sure to brush her thigh against his.

“So…what’s the plan for tonight?” Kate asks as she slips next to Josie, who is bundled up in a big coat. Josie is anemic so she tends to get cold easier.

“Aren’t we going to the diner?” Josie asks as she shivers.

“Jesus Josie, I can hear you shivering from here, are you okay?” Y/N reaches her hand across the table, taking Josie’s ice cold one into her grip.

As her hand meets Josie’s cold skin, she nearly jumps from a hand gripping her thigh out of nowhere. She whips her head to the side, and narrows her eyes at Conner, who is looking back at her smugly.

“Easy.” She whispers under her breath, warning him. She doesn’t particularly hate the feeling of Conner’s big hand stroking her leg slowly, but she also isn’t in the mood to try and entertain any of his sexual advances.

“I’m okay.” Josie’s voice snaps Y/N’s attention back onto her. “I ran out of iron pills last night, and didn’t take one this morning. My blood sugar is just really low, but my brother is bringing me one right now actually.” She shrugs her shoulders.

Sometimes Y/N forget that Josie has a fraternal twin brother. They never hang out, and are in completely different crowds from what she knows. Liam Payne, her brother, hangs around people who are on the lower side of the social ladder, so she rarely talks to him.

That, and he just keeps to himself. When Y/N and Kate choose to hang out at Josie’s house, her brother is usually over at his own friend's house, or cooped up in his room playing video games.

Josie has expressed to Y/N that Liam isn’t a big fan of any of her friends anyways. She says he doesn’t understand how she could hang out with such shallow people.

He was smart enough to exclude Y/N and Kate from that statement because Y/N is anything but shallow.

Speaking of Liam, Y/N lifts her gaze, and sees him approaching their table. He has a group of people behind him. She recognizes everyone but one in the group.

Y/N doesn’t know why, but she can’t seem to tear her eyes away from the boy with curly hair, tucked under a beanie.

She has crossed paths with Zayn, Louis, and Niall. Multiple times at that, but the tall boy, who has his head down, picking at the sleeve of his sweater is someone she has never seen a day in her life.

Her tummy warms the longer she looks at him. She so desperately wants to catch his eyes to see what they look like.

“Josie.” Liam calls out, catching everyone’s attention. Josie turns her head over her shoulder, and smiles up at her brother as he reaches the table.

“Hi, Liam.” Josie greets her brother. His friends behind him all have their heads down, almost as if they were afraid to look up.

Y/N almost forgot that Conner’s hand was on her thigh until his fingers began to trail up her inner thigh, his fingertips brushing the edge of her thong.

Y/N doesn’t know why she didn't do it, usually she just lets it happen because no one else can see, and she loves getting riled up, but right now, his touch is annoying her more than anything.

She shoves his hand away completely, focusing all her attention back on Josie’s brother, well more so the boy behind him.

“Here.” Liam shoves a ziplock bag into Josie’s hands. “Mom put the actual bottle in your bathroom.”

“Harry Styles is that you?” Y/N hears Conner say from beside her. There is a certain tone to her voice that gives her a hint that Conner isn’t about to give whoever he is talking to a hard time.

The boy who Y/N had been staring at lifted his head. His wild green eyes lock with Y/N’s and her insides begin to swirl. She feels a current of electricity ripple down her body the longer he looks at her.

Holy fuck. Is all Y/N can think right now. Y/N is sure she’s never seen a more innocently beautiful person before until laying her eyes on him.

Medium plump heart shaped lips, bright red cheeks, a chiseled jaw, and hauntingly captivating eyes.

All of the features that belong to this so-called Harry, unknowingly tattoo themselves onto her brain, for her to never forget.

She wiggles in her seat, feeling all hot, and tingly from looking at him. She watches the gorgeous man in front of her swallow before shifting his eyes over to next to her where Conner is sat.

“Y-yeah, s’me.” Harry says softly. His voice is deep, and raspy. Y/N thinks it’s extremely attractive, and it only makes her stomach knot tighter.

“Still stumbling over your words like a bitch I see.” Conner laughs, reaching across the table to receive a fist bump from Michael, a guy who is on the football team with Conner.

Harry gulps, looking down at the ground ashamed. Y/N almost blurted out something in his defense, something along the lines of ‘no need to be such a dick, Conner’ or ‘fuck off Conner and go choke on something for talking to him in such a way’, but she doesn’t. Instead, she sits back quietly watching the scene in front of her unfold.

What, nothing to say now?” Conner taunts.

“Fuck off Conner, and leave him alone.” Zayn speaks up in his defense.

Conner scoffs, rolling his eyes. “I think gamer boy over here can speak for himself, can’t you Styles, or are you going to stumble over those words too?”

“Yeah Styles, are you going to s—s—speak for yourself?” Michael joins in on the teasing.

She doesn't know why, but she feels anger start to bubble deep inside of her. Usually when one of the boys picks on someone, she doesn’t pay any mind.

Like stated earlier, Y/N is no saint, she honestly is more of a sinner than anything. She never feels anything when Conner and his friends choose to be a dick to someone.

The fact that all she feels right now is red hot rage at Conner is choosing to be a dick to Harry out of all people scares her a bit because she doesn’t even know him.

Y/N isn’t cold hearted or anything, but she isn’t easy to catch the attention of. Guys try to butter her up all the time. They compliment her, do anything she says, they’ll pay for her nail sets, eyebrow waxing appointments, and other things. Y/N doesn’t need their money, but always accepts because free is still free at the end of the day, plus she loves the small power trip she feels knowing that people are so desperate to simply talk to her that they’ll do whatever it takes to make her happy.

The fact that a boy she has never seen before has caught her attention like this, to the point that she is feeling defensive over him is absurd, and needs to go away.

Y/N doesn’t like that this Harry guy is making her feel all weird inside, but what she doesn’t like even more than that is Conner being rude to Harry.

She almost says something, but decides in the end to sit quietly and let boys be boys, even though this isn’t something she thinks these boys should be doing.

“Hey, why don’t you fuck off and stop being a dick to him!” Niall says this time, getting ready to launch over the table for the sake of his friend.

“It’s fine really guys.” Harry scratches the back of his neck. She doesn’t know why, but his eyes drift back to hers for a split second before snapping back over to Conner. “Look we’re leaving, s-sorry to bother.”

Y/N hates how Harry is saying sorry when he didn’t do shit wrong. She hates how intimidated the boy seems around them. She wonders how long Conner and his friends have been picking on the green eyed beauty.

Harry’s friends all turn to leave on Harry’s queue, but Harry doesn’t turn around right away. He makes a last glance at Y/N. This time his eyes linger longer.

It gives Y/N enough time to flash Harry one of her signature smiles that captures any boy right in her trance. She wiggles her fingers discreetly at him.

Harry’s eyes widen, and he takes a big gulp before turning around quickly, and walking off far away from Y/N and her group of friends.

Harry hopes that he doesn’t have to encounter anyone at that table again. He felt humiliated while Conner and his friend were taking a piss at him. He doesn’t think he can face them, especially Y/N.

Harry is well aware that the most popular girl in school is. Everyone does. Y/N is talked about more in school than the material the students are learning.

He hadn’t expected to see one of his best mate’s sisters sitting with the one and only in the flesh. Sure Harry has seen her around, but never that close.

It made him feel nervous and hot all over. His ears were on fire the whole time from embarrassment.

He really does hope that he never has to face her again. He fears that she might make fun of him, which for some reason the idea of her out of all people taking a piss at him makes his stomach knot tightly.

It’s no secret that Y/N has a fiery side to her that isn’t afraid to snap when it’s necessary, and anyone in her line of fire will burn, and the aftermath of the burns are detrimental.

Yeah, Harry really doesn’t want to run into her again.

But little does Harry know, that this is far from the last time he’ll be seeing the queen bee. Harry doesn’t realize it yet, and neither does Y/N, but Harry has caught her eye, and now she’s hooked.

[borealisbarbie]

borealis

chapter 1.: for now, it's time to run chapter tags: queer (m/m), sci fi, heists, kidnapping, referenced human experimentation, grumpy x bitchy, angst chapter warnings: implied noncon body modification, technical kidnapping, gun violence, language, mild gore, PTSD word count: 4243 A/N: the first chapter of my baby is here and ready to be shared! this is the first original work i'm posting in more than 5 years so i'm super excited to finally start sharing her with you all!

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   Every time he had to break into a building Dawson was acutely jealous of the shows and movies he’d watched as a kid— his life would be so much smoother if he could just slide through a couple air vents and be done with it! But no, instead here he was, 2am on a Thursday, knee deep in piles of whatever undoubtedly filthy laundry an illegal medical laboratory produced. Not his favorite way to enter a place, but it was one less code to remember— just a single key to lift off of an unaware janitor. The face mask he wore felt inadequate, but it would have to do. 

  The laundry facilities were on the very bottom floor of the lab, but Dawson’s target was only a few floors up— packed up and ready to be transported for sale tomorrow morning, according to Dawson’s employer. He didn’t know what, exactly, it was that he was stealing, but he wasn’t in any position to turn down a job that paid this much. He made his way swiftly down the hall and up the barren stairwell— which had required a convoluted code to open— in silence. The stairwell opened into a short hallway, only three doors occupying the limited space. He strode towards the 2nd door on the left, as his intel had instructed, and input yet another door code. The little blinking blue light swiftly turned green and the door slid open, bringing a satisfied smirk to the thief’s face. That smirk drops when he takes in the contents of the small room. Whipping his phone out of his breast pocket, he pulls up the single blurry shot of the case he’s supposed to be looking at.

   That shitty fucking intel, is all Dawson can think, looking from the picture of his target on his phone back to the large metal crate looking thing that stood in the center of the cargo hold. He was here for a weapon, sure, but a fancy gun or laser sword, not something he would need a damn forklift to move. The crate had a number pad on its side, which would explain the extra passcode he’d been given. He lays his gun down within easy reach inputs the code, wincing as each button press emits a loud ping sound. It’s an obnoxiously long code too, even for some high-tech government laboratory, but finally he types in the last digit and hits enter. The box’s seams glow an ominous red before blinking to green, and there is the hiss of hydraulics before the lid of the box lifts and recedes on its own. Thick clouds of fog rise and quickly dissipate, revealing the contents; his target. It’s not a gun like he had hoped, or a bomb, or even a tiny, mysterious microchip. 

   It’s a dude. A curled slip of man, nude and nestled into perfectly cut out insulating foam. Dawson inhaled sharply, taking a step back. Because what the fuck. What the fuck was this? Was he stealing a corpse? Apparently not, because just as he goes to step closer, reaching out a hand to check for a pulse, the still form suddenly heaves a ragged breath and flies into a frenzy of movement, flinging himself from the box in a panic. Dawson reaches blindly behind himself for his gun on the table, clicking off the safety and pointing it at the man— fuck the payout, he wasn’t about to be mauled or maimed by some feral lab experiment! The man doesn’t attack though, instead scuttling backwards until he hits the wall, wild gaze flitting about and taking in his surroundings with an expression of pained confusion. When his gaze settles on Dawson the thief clutches his gun tighter and lets out a hissed curse; because those eyes are not human eyes. They shine an unnatural shade of teal, and the pupils shift and dilate like the lens of a camera. Mechanical. 

   But not one like anything Dawson has seen before, not even the fancy pretty ones the wealthy like to flaunt online. He’s breathing for one, still dragging in labored and brittle breaths, and sweat drips down his face, dampening unkempt curls. There’s an air of humanity to him that shouldn’t be possible in a mechanical.

“Who are you?” Dawson finally grits out, knowing that the clock is ticking and he doesn't really have time for an in-depth interrogation. The man just recoils further against the wall, though his breathing does at last appear to be mellowing out. A glance down at his watch shows that he has exactly 17 minutes to make his escape before the change of the security guards. “Fine, don’t talk. Look, I've got less than 20 minutes to get out of here so it looks like you’re coming with me. I was expecting a nice little carrying case, but I can make this work.” Still no reaction. Dawson feels a little bad for the mech— inhuman or not, the fear in his face and body language is palpable. He lowers his gun with a sigh before coming forward to kneel in front of the man, meeting his gaze with what he hopes is a reassuring expression— he’s not the expert on comforting scared people. There’s a barely audible hum as the mans’ eyes focus on Dawson, repeating that same camera lens effect.

“Look, clearly I don't know what’s going on here and neither do you, but I don't think you want to hang around here— they had you locked in a box in a basement. Something fucked up is happening here, and you can either come with me, or you can stay and try explaining to them how you got out of that box on your own. I don’t think the people here would be very happy with you escaping, do you?” And yeah, maybe it’s cruel to manipulate him like this, but whatever got him off of the floor and got them out of the lab was good enough for Dawson.

“Juno.” he blinks at the abrupt tone, but nods anyway. He— Juno, apparently— could speak, at least. 

“Great. Nice to meet you Juno, I’m Dawson. Let’s get the fuck out of here.” And with that, Dawson stands yet again, this time taking Juno by the wrist and pulling him up to stand too. It’s sheer luck that hanging on the back of the chair in the otherwise barren room is an abandoned lab coat— he swiftly covers the mech’s nude form with the white fabric and instructs him to keep close and keep quiet, before leading them out of the room. 

   The long reaching hall is still blessedly empty as far as Dawson can tell, and it should remain so for the next five minutes— enough time to get them to the ground floor. Gun at the ready he pulls an annoyingly slow-paced Juno along— the smallest thing seems to distract the mech, as if they are not currently trying to escape a life or death (or unpleasant jail time) situation. They reach a fork, the hallway splitting into two identical paths. The map Dawson’s employer had provided said to go to the left, but Juno refuses to follow, digging his bare heels into the ground when Dawson tries to jerk him along.

“Not that way.” the mech unhelpfully says, a mulish expression on his face. He tilts his head in a way that suggests he is listening to something, and that something is evidently not Dawson— or anything Dawson can hear, because both halls are silent. “This way.” and he shifts his hand so he is the one holding onto Dawson now and, much to the thief’s chagrin, tugs him along without any effort, taking the right hall. They come to a stop in front of a closed door, which doesn’t budge when Dawson jiggles the handle. 

“A dead end, seriously?” he hisses at the now bored looking mech. “I have been studying the schematics of this building for the last three months, kid, our way out was the other hallway!” He’s about to throw the mech over his shoulder and carry him to the proper exit fireman style, when Juno none too gently shoves him aside and gives the door handle a single firm yank. There is the sharp sound of wood cracking before the door gives way, swinging open, easy as anything now that a skinny little mechanical has just ripped the locking mechanism out of the damn door. 

“Faster. And no cameras.” He gently sets the door handle and its guts on the ground, before gesturing for Dawson to lead the way once again. Something was seriously wrong with this mech and the way he functioned, but there was no time for him to ponder that. Quickly familiarizing himself with this portion of the map, Dawson manages to navigate himself and the mech up to the first floor. Which was where things were going to get seriously tricky. Where the bottom levels had been paroled by a barebones crew, the main floors were much more stringently supervised— guards patrolled each end of each level in synchronized pairs, armed to the teeth in the latest tech and paid handsomely enough that there wasn’t much they wouldn’t do for the company. Their escape would have to be timed perfectly, and helpful as he could apparently be, there was no time for deviations from Juno.

“You do what I say from here on out, got it? I’m not about to die because you think you found a shortcut.” The mech nods, but the mulish expression is back— quite the contrast from the trembling, fear filled thing he’d been just a few minutes ago. Time would tell if it was a welcome change. “And— hey, this is important—” he adds sharply, noting the mech’s gaze beginning to wander once again, this time distracted by the rattling of the air con. “If I get shot, or if they catch me? Don’t fucking leave me to die, got it? I am not getting paid enough to die for you. You come back for me.” The mech nods and it’s go time.

   Dawson’s favorite kind of jobs were the ones where he got to break out the fancy equipment— harnesses for repelling down buildings, gadgets to disable alarm systems or cut through the glass of windows or display cases. But sadly, this was not that sort of job. Initially, his escape plan was to walk out completely undetected after going back the way he came, but by now someone was sure to have noticed Juno’s little door demolishment; it was only a matter of time before security was alerted of their presence. And unfortunately, he wasn't exactly able to tuck the mech into a backpack or pocket like he could have with his typical targets. So instead they had to do things the much more dangerous, life-threatening way, and tiptoe through the halls just as they emptied of guards, letting the timing of the guards’ schedule do the heavy lifting for them. So long as they didn’t do anything overt or loud, they were in the clear.

   So of course. Of course Juno— who walked so silently Dawson could almost forget he was there if not for the bruising grip he had on his hand— slips on the slick tile, letting out a small cry as his ankle twists. It’s faint, but it’s a noise, and that’s all it takes for the sound of boots pounding in their direction to pick up. With a curse Dawson pushes the mech more fully behind him, sandwiched between his back and the wall, and clicks the safety off his gun once again. He can feel the mech breathing harshly against his neck, and thin fingers dig painfully into his hand as two guards come from each direction, cornering them with guns drawn. Dawson notes that they do not aim at them, despite clearly having the upper hand.

“Who are you, how did you get access to this floor?” One guard barks while another approaches, pulling handcuffs from his belt and reaching for Juno. And that, apparently, is the wrong thing to do, because the mech’s gaze snaps to the guard’s hand, and in the space of what can only be a few seconds the mech darts a hand out and grabs the guard, pulling him in close before flinging him bodily towards the other set of guards, sending them all tumbling down into a pile of limbs. The remaining guard, the one with the gun, quickly descends into panic, waving his gun around and shouting. Still, no actual shots are fired. Dawson is torn between trying to talk his way out of this or just knocking him out when Juno makes an executive decision. Hand outstretched like a superhero in one of the old movies Dawson watched as a kid, unnerving gaze glowing, and a little ball of light grows in his hand, giving off sparks and increasing in size until it’s on par with a large marble. The mech— or whatever the hell he actually was because mechanicals couldn’t form matter— closes his hand around it and the light disappears. Juno then opens his hand to reveal a shiny silver ball and Dawson only has a moment to study it before it flies forward and embeds itself in the guard’s chest, punching a hole straight through. 

“Jesus Christ!” he exclaims, roughly wiping the blood spray from his face. Juno merely blinks, eerily unaffected, and follows easily when Dawson grabs him and drags him full speed from the scene. Hopefully the shock of their coworker's violent death keeps the other guards off their tail long enough for them to escape. 

   They make it to the exit, but Dawson would be hard pressed to recall how the hell they did it. After escaping the lab itself, it’s a simple matter of slipping down several tiny alleyways and taking a few twisty little side roads until they reach Dawson’s bike. Which swiftly presents the next dilemma; getting the lab grown superpowered mech onto said bike. Juno accepts the helmet easily enough, and even puts it on himself, though he bats away Dawson’s hands when he tries to adjust the straps. He sits behind Dawson when he says to, wrapping thin arms about the thief’s waist. He’s perfectly compliant until the bike turns on. The second it roars to life the mech is gone, scrambling off of the bike and away from its now offensive form.

“NO!” he yells, pointing an accusing finger at Dawson as he shuts off the bike and tries to approach Juno placatingly. “It’s too loud, I don’t like it!” It’s the most he’s heard from the mech since he opened that damn box. Dawson isn’t keen on having his head exploded or being set on fire, or whatever other powers Juno possessed, and so they are at an impasse. 

“What do you want from me here, kid? We need to get out of here, and this is how we do that.” He gestures behind him to the bike. “It’s perfectly safe, I promise.” The mech glares unwaveringly from under stringy curls, and he appears to be shivering— from the cold or from shock, it was hard to tell. Either way, he needed to get him indoors and fast. Could mechs even get sick from exposure? 

“Come on, we’ll get you some clothes, something to eat…” The promise of food seems to do the trick, mistrusting gaze softening to something almost hopeful. 

“Chocolate, I want chocolate, the shiny ones.” Demanding thing.

“I— Yeah, yeah okay. Get on the bike and we’ll find you some damn chocolate.” He offers his hand again to pull Juno back behind him on the bike, but he’s still a little surprised when icy fingertips graze his own. Again, he wonders if it’s a product of Juno’s inhumanity or the winter temperatures. Dawson guides him onto the bike, holding an arm securely over the thin ones clinging with much more fervor to his waist before starting the bike. Juno gives a little whine of fear but doesn’t run away this time, so Dawson counts it as a win and takes off. 

   20 minutes later and they pull up to a dark, run-down looking building. Dawson shuts off the bike and after some light jostling manages to get Juno to let go and get off the bike, before leading the mech inside. The interior is just as grim as the exterior— a welcome desk that has sat unoccupied since Dawson moved in fills one corner, while a pile of unusable cleaning supplies from when there was a cleaning crew 10 years ago takes up the lobby. Juno is again taking in his surroundings with all the interest and newness of a child or cartoon alien, running his fingers across a tabletop before grimacing at the thick dust that now clings to them. Dawson wrinkles his nose when the mech absently wipes the grime on his pilfered coat, drawing attention to how out of place he looks outside of the illegal lab setting— barefoot and clad only in a now bloodstained and filthy lab coat, which slides off one shoulder as it has lost several buttons. The dried and flaking blood spatter across what would otherwise be a sweet face completes the upsetting visage.

“Let’s go, we can’t let anyone see you like this.” He takes Juno by the hand and leads him up to his apartment, smirking a little when the mech groans at the sight of several flights of stairs. It was nice to know that there was some humanity programmed into him. 

10 floors later and they’re finally there.

“Home sweet home…” Dawson mumbles under his breath, pulling his keys out and opening the door. Juno all but runs inside, leaving the thief alone to lock back up. He kicks off his shoes by the door and then follows the sounds of Juno’s exploring to the living room, where the mech is stroking the blanket strewn carelessly over the back of the couch with reverent hands. Dawson clears his throat, feeling a little bad when he jerks his hands back as if burned.

“There’s a shower through there, go get washed up and I’ll have some clothes ready for you when you’re done.” he points to the doorway on the left. Juno seems to deflate before nodding shortly, stripping off the ruined lab coat right there in the living room, which… Okay, technically Dawson had already seen him nude, but he hadn’t planned on doing it again any time soon. He averts his eyes, and before he can muster up a response, the mech is gone, and the sound of the tub running starts up shortly. Shaking his head, Dawson grabs a trash bag from the kitchen to store the coat for now, planning on burning the thing when he gets the chance rather than risking someone finding it in the trash and poking around. Then he goes to his closet to find the aforementioned clothes he promised Juno.

   He doesn’t have much that will fit the slight mech, but he digs up a sweater from an old fling and some shorts with a tie that would work until he could get to a shop. There’s no underwear, but he suspects the mech isn’t used to wearing any anyways. Clothing sorted, Dawson decides to tackle the food problem. He’s not sure what the mech can eat, or, in all honesty, what in his kitchen is still edible. 

   The fridge is hours away from becoming a biohazard zone, and the fruit bowl on the counter has sat empty since the day his elderly neighbor brought it over as a housewarming gift. The pantry, however, yields a mostly not stale pack of crackers, a jar of pickles, and a half empty bag of halloween candy. He arranges his findings on one of the two plates he owns before checking his watch and frowning. It’s been less than 10 minutes and yet he can already hear Juno turning off the shower. There’s a pleased sound and then the quiet shuffling of someone getting dressed. 

   Juno emerges not soon after, rubbing a towel aggressively over his head. He has forgone the shorts for some unknown reason, but the sweater does technically cover everything, the hem hanging awkwardly to graze the mech’s bruised knees, and Dawson lets it slide, taking the towel from him before he can drop it carelessly to the ground like he clearly plans to. He takes one of the mech’s eternally cold hands and leads Juno over to sit at the table, setting the plate of food in front of him. Immediately he can tell he’s made some sort of grave error— those unnatural eyes narrow, and the mech pokes at one of the little gherkins with an unimpressed air.

“What… are those?” he asks disdainfully, selecting one of the less offensive crackers to shove into his mouth whole instead.

“They’re pickles, you never seen a pickle before?” Dawson asks defensively, taking one and biting into it with an obnoxious crunch. And maybe it’s a little more sour than usual, what would Juno know about it if it was? The mech just shakes his head, continuing to scarf down crackers whole. He’s a mess of contradiction, equal parts fearful and demanding, knowledgeable and clueless. And then there’s the whole ‘killing people with little balls of light’ thing to consider. Hell, he probably hasn’t ever heard of a pickle before. 

“So… What the hell was going on in that lab?” he finally asks. Juno looks up from his food (he has abandoned the plate and is now digging through the Halloween candy bag, pulling everything out and sorting them into piles— the non-chocolate candy is piling up on the floor beside his chair.) with eyes narrowed with distrust. He clearly isn’t about to bring Dawson into the loop, returning back to his candy sorting with an added flair of irritation. “Oh, so I save your skinny ass— nearly die in the process, might I add, take you in and feed and clothe you, but I can’t ask why they had you stuffed into a box? That seems fair.” He rolls his eyes when he is ignored yet again, reaching across the spindly table and grabbing the bag of candy from the mech’s lax grip. Juno hisses in surprise, baring pearly teeth at him— Dawson is pretty sure the mech might really try to bite him. Very animalistic for something so clearly machine.

“Nuh uh, you get these back when you answer my questions.” The little bastard actually has the nerve to snatch for the bag but he easily holds it out of reach. “Are you going to cooperate?” he reiterates once again, shaking the candy enticingly. Juno heaves a beleaguered sigh before giving a single sharp nod. As a token of good faith Dawson chucks a Twix at him— and is a little miffed when the brat catches it seamlessly.

“Good. Let’s start with something simple: why the hell were you in that box?”

“I always sleep in the box, if I’m not in use.” 

   That's… concerning. Mechs had developed so much in the past decade, it hardly seemed humane to lock them away when they weren’t ‘in use’. And those were just standard mechs, built to be companions, factory workers, and glorified pets. Whatever Juno was, it was clearly nearly human in its’ design, the lab could have at least sprung for a bed for the guy. The mech looks unconcerned though, gnawing at his candy’s wrapper with his teeth.

“What are your prioritized functions?” Some mechs don’t have them preprogrammed, or aren’t allowed to disclose them, but it's worth a shot to ask. Maybe if he knows why the lab was creating hyper realistic mechs, he could better figure out what to do with this one. Again though, Juno just looks confused by his question.

“I don’t know what that means.” It’s said fully deadpan, but Dawson can sense the unspoken disdain. 

“Well what the hell are you, then? They obviously built you for something— are you just some sort of fancy weapon?” This, at last, has an actual, visible effect on Juno. And Dawson immediately regrets saying it. Confusion, hurt, and guilt flicker across his face before his expression settles into something supremely pained. Then the tears come, only to be dashed away by the sleeve of Juno’s borrowed sweater before they can fall. 

“They didn’t. Build me, I mean. No one did. They just… added things. Removed things.” He’s looking down now, fiddling with the candy he still hasn’t managed to free from its wrapper. “I don’t remember everything, side effect of—” he waves his hand vaguely around his head, “but I was— I guess I was sick, as a kid? Really sick, and my family couldn’t afford the treatment, or maybe I didn’t have a family. The lab was running a trial for some special procedure and they picked me. Fixed me right up. Then they… kept finding new things to fix.” Dawson doesn’t know how he’s supposed to respond. He settles on pushing the candy back across the table, avoiding the unbearable weight of that odd gaze. Silence, for a few moments. 

Then rustling sounds pick up. 

A package of Skittles hits the linoleum.

[gwynrielendgame]

Gwynriel antics

Okay writing from Mor’s perspective is actually kind of difficult. There is enough ambiguity around Mor’s sexuality in the series that I try to veer away from her perspective to avoid potentially problematic content. I do think that Mor would struggle when Azriel finds his mate/significant other because he’ll no longer be paying her much attention. At least not in the way she’s used to. Anyways enjoy

The first thing Mor noticed as she entered the living room was that Azriel was in a bad mood. He was brooding, more so than normal while standing in the far corner of the room by the piano. The only person brave enough to engage him in conversation was Nesta, who looked as bitchy as usual. Mor considered consoling him, but reconsidered as his shadows seemed restless. She would never admit it to him, though she presumed he might already know, but his shadows unnerved her. They would never hurt her, but something about them reminded her of the Court of Nightmares. She felt guilty and like a bad friend. The only thought that could console her was the knowledge that no one would be able to get him out of this mood. Nesta may be brave enough to face the mood head on; however, she would never be enough to pull him out of his own mind. It had always bothered Mor that nothing she could do or say would make him feel better.

"How was you trip?" Elain asked sweetly from the couch. Her frilly, pink dress made Elain's beauty less intimidating and more approachable.

She often wondered if that was on purpose. She was the complete opposite from Mor in every way, yet Mor felt grateful to her. Grateful that she had caught and kept, at least partially, the attention of the Shadowsinger. A jealous part of Mor was glad that Elain could not, although she speculated that Elain did not want to either, pull him out of his mood. Mor sat across from Elain on the other couch, taking baby Nyx right from Feyre's lap. Feyre sent a small smile to Mor before returning to her conversation with Rhys. Her legs were tossed over his lap with their sides pressed firmly together. Mor suddenly ached for what they had. The publicity of it, the intimacy of it, and the comfort of it all was something she wanted so desperately, but felt so unattainable. Mor dropped a kiss on Nyx's forehead as he pulled at her hair before answering Elain.

"It was fine. Politics can be so dreadfully boring," she rolled her eyes as she said it. Elain nodded along as if she might understand even though they both knew she didn't. Mor bounced Nyx on her knee to keep him preoccupied.

"Do you know what is wrong?" She lowered her voice while nodding her head in the direction of Azriel. Even though he was behind her, Mor knew who Elain was referring to.

"Your guess is as good as mine." She replied with a shrug. It was almost impossible to tell. Rhysand felt the need to add in his two cents, annoyingly enough.

"Leave it be, Elain. He likes to be left alone when he's like this." Rhysand gave her a hard look that Mor did not understand. Seemingly Elain did because she turned away to stare at the fireplace with a blushing face.

"The party is officially here!" Cassian shouted as he burst through the double doors into the living room.

Gwyn and Emerie, who trailed in after Cassian, made a beeline for Nesta who was still standing next to Azriel. Not so much conversing, but standing in solidarity to their bad moods. Cassian dropped a kiss on Nesta's cheek which had Mor rolling her eyes. She would never understand what a good fae like Cassian ever saw in Nesta. Even at her best, she was miserable. Emerie eventually floated over to Mor.

"How was your trip?" She awkwardly played with the end of her braid as she stood towards the side of the couch. She was clearly struggling with where to sit now that Cassian and Nesta took up the rest of the couch Elain was sitting on.

"Peachy. Dealing with entitled males is my favorite way to spend my time." She said it in an ultra cheery voice as she held up Nyx closer to her face. She was hoping his tiny baby body would block her blush. No need to let the Illyrian female know that Mor was flustered by her attentions. Emerie sent her a brilliant smile.

"So just a normal Tuesday huh?" Mor smiled back at her before moving over. There was a small amount of space between Feyre and Mor, but Emerie's slender body could probably fit.

"Would you like to sit?" Mor motioned to the spot. Emerie hesitated for just a moment before accepting. Her side was smushed to Mor's. She would be lying if she said it didn't elicit a spark in her.

Quiet murmurings in the back of the room drew Mor's attention. As she turned around she saw the priestess, whose name was on the tip of her tongue, talking with Azriel. Brave girl is the only thought that flittered through her head. They both had serious expressions as they discussed something quietly. It was so quiet that even with her fae hearing, she could not make out what they were saying. Azriel's shadows were moving rapidly around him now, making him obvious instead of blending him in like they were meant to be doing. Mor realized that Gwyn was holding a dagger that Azriel was showing her how to handle. He corrected her arm position a few times and she practiced it. Surprisingly, the brooding expression was replaced with one of concentration. He was more focused on teaching her than with whatever he was upset with. Mor cocked her head to analyze the two further only to be called back to attention.

"Mor!" Cassian all but shouted.

"What? Yes?" She turned back to the circle she was part of to see Cassian looking at her expectantly.

"I asked you how your trip was? I haven't seen you since you have gotten back." Cassian tossed an arm around Nesta's shoulder who was in an animated conversation across the couches with Emerie about some book they had both read. Mor was distracted for a moment. What could Emerie see in Nesta as a friend?

"Same old, same old."

Elain moved to grab Nyx from Mor's lap before reclaiming her spot on the ruby colored couch. Without the baby as a buffer, Mor felt exactly how nice it was to have Emerie so close, even if she was paying more attention to Nesta than herself. Elain blew raspberries on Nyx's face when a sound caught Mor's attention once again.

"Cassian!" The priestess, whose name Mor finally remembered was Gwyn, called as she dragged Azriel by the hand to the center of the room. Mor could not stop her eyes from widening and it appeared Elain, Feyre, and Rhys couldn't either. Mor even thought she might have heard a small gasp from Elain. "Tell Azriel that I really managed to escape that knot earlier."

Gwyn's face was barely containing her excitement. When they finally stood next to the couches, Gwyn dropped his hand gently, but did not move away from him. Almost the entire room was raptured by the scene. Azriel's acceptance of her hand holding, the shadows that appeared to guard the redhead as they peered over her shoulders, and the disbelief on his face that took over from the brooding as Gwyn insisted that she accomplished her goal. Cassian laughed while shaking his head.

"She is telling the truth. She's quite crafty with those ropes." Cassian admitted. Azriel's face continued to show his disbelief as he turned his narrowed gaze to Nesta.

"If you don't believe her, I guess she'll have to show you tomorrow." Nesta shrugged. Azriel sent a look to Gwyn that Mor could not exactly decipher. It almost looked like admiration, but there was no way it could be that.

"Why wait?" Gwyn started pulling Azriel back to the doors. "I'll show you now." Azriel allowed Gwyn to tug him around like a rag-doll. Mor could not stop the giggle from escaping her lips.

"Gwyn!" Emerie whined. "You promised you would stay until we at least ate!"

"Don't let her leave, Azriel!" Nesta shrieked. "She's trying to escape. You are not as clever as you think little missy." Nesta sent one of her nastiest glares towards the two escapees. Shockingly, it only made Gwyn laugh. She turned to Azriel with a slight pout.

"Please? I know you want to see it." She taunted him.

It appeared that those in the room who had not been to training had missed quite the development because as Azriel threw his head back in laughter, Mor, Elain, Feyre, and Rhysand jaw's all dropped in shock. It appeared the priestess was able to accomplish something that none of them had been able to in all their years of knowing the Shadowsinger. She was able to retrieve him from his bad mood. The shadows that seemed so territorial over Gwyn, now rested calmly around the both of them. It surprised Mor how unaffected Gwyn was by them. The interaction was so shocking that none of them could look away.

"You can show me tomorrow." He replied quietly with a smirk. Gwyn sighed but returned to the center of the room.

"Fine, you guys win."

Nesta and Emerie beamed at each other. Even as others recuperated from the shock, Mor felt herself analyzing everything Azriel did after that. Every interaction he paid to the priestess and how that was different from his interactions with her and Elain. She paid attention to how often he laughed and how his shadows acted. All throughout dinner she tried to understand it. What Gwyn could do that Mor could not. She wanted to know for next time, so that it could be Mor that made him smile when he was upset instead of Gwyn. The ugly, jealousy feeling made no sense. But there was a part of her that did not want to share Azriel with anyone, but especially with Gwyn. It was odd how Mor did not feel the same way with Elain.

"What's wrong with your shadows?" Elain asked innocently.

It was the wrong question to ask. The neutral face he had been sporting shifted into a scowl and the shadows retreated altogether. Before he could say something, Gwyn spoke up.

"There's nothing wrong with them. They just want to play." She continued to push her food around on her plate.

"Play?" Rhysand asked with raised eyebrows. He sent a look to Az. An annoyed look, one that rarely ever showed, crossed Azriel's face.

"They are not playing." He enunciated the last word, seemingly for Gwyn's benefit. She simply rolled her eyes as if the Shadowsinger's annoyance was no skin off her back.

"You are just jealous because they like me better." She sent him a mischievous smile before humming a short tune. A traitorous shadow lunged for her. It stopped short and retreated when the tune stopped.

"Gwyn." He whined. Mor ended up choking on her food at the sound. She has never once heard the male whine for any reason. Everyone at the table sent her an amused stare except for Gwyn and Azriel who appeared to be stuck in some sort of staring competition.

"Really, you two? You're worse than Rhys and I were when we were nine." Cassian muttered.

"3 books for Azriel." Nesta piped up.

"Are you serious? No way." Emerie argued in an adorably annoyed way. "Gwyn all the way. You owe me 5 books anyways. I want new leathers."

Mor made certain to note that in the back of her head.

"What are they doing?" Elain asked. Cassian shook his head in amusement.

"Staring contest. First to blink loses."

"Why?" Elain looked amused. Actually the entire table looked amused at their antics.

"Because they are the two most stubborn Fae to have ever lived." Emerie said with a smile.

The table went extremely silent as they watched the two battle it out. Mor was intrigued to see who would win. A thud under the table was the only sound to be heard.

"No playing dirty." Azriel said without so much as an inclination that he had just been kicked.

"You pulled my hair last time."

"Because you threw a dagger at me the time before. I'd say mine was much milder."

Rhysand laughed a loud and hearty laugh that caused the two of them to blink at the exact same time. Nyx clapped his hands at the excitement.

"Hey!" Gwyn and Azriel yelled simultaneously.

"Dammit." Emerie muttered.

"I'm claiming that win." Gwyn announced with a smug smile.

"Of course you are." Az sent her a glare, but there was no malice behind it.

He did not correct her though, allowing her to claim the win. It was then and there that it hit Mor.

Azriel likes Gwyn.

He isn't in love with her. He isn't pining after her. Mor isn't even sure if he knows it himself yet. But Mor knows, without a shadow of a doubt, that he likes the priestess. The slithering jealous feeling only increased tenfold. She sighed heavily. What was wrong with her? She should be happy for her friend.

Shouldn't she?

[holylulusworld]

Boy hates girl?

Title: Boy hates girl?

Square Filled: Stanford AU

Ship: AU!Dean x fem!Reader

Characters: Lisa Breaden

Rating: Explicit

Warnings: angst, language, arguments, kinda cheating, smut, protected sex, enemies to lovers, and they were roommates, mentions of cheating/post shitty relationships, implied smut, implied oral sex

Summary: Dean crashes into your life and won’t stop bugging you.

Word Count: 2,2 k

Written/Created for: @spnaubingo​​​​

2020 SPN AU BINGO Masterlist

Divider by @firefly-graphics​

“Are you fucking serious, psycho?” hands-on your hips you growl at the guy standing in front of your door. “Did you follow me home? I already told you the pie is mine.”

“Wait—what?” the guy cocks his head, looks you up and down before he gets a piece of paper out. “No, no! Not you again. Crazy chick,” he retorts, eyes a little narrowed now. “Did you hurt my girlfriend?”

“Girlfriend? What the fuck are you talking about? I came home,” now you lean in the doorframe, grinning like a winner, “ate a slice of the pie you wanted, and had a shower. I didn’t have the time to kill anyone.”

“This is my girl’s place,” you snatch the piece of paper out of the guy’s hand, frowning when you read your former roommate’s name. “She said I shall pick her up at seven.”

“Dude, that’s my former roommate and she doesn’t live here for like seven or eight weeks. I kicked her bitchy ass out,” handing the guy the piece of paper you snicker. “She liked to do this, ya know. Once in a while a guy came around and left heartbroken. Bitch doesn’t even have the guts to break up with a guy.”

“She wants to break up with me?” the guy sighs now and you pity him for a moment until you remember you hate him. “Fuck, here I am, trying to not be a one and done for once. Great job, Dean.”

“Wait…you are Dean Winchester!” you snicker, eyes roaming his body. “You must be last on her bucket list to fuck!”

“What the fuck!” Dean grunts, stepping closer to look over your shoulder. “Is this a sick game? Do you want to make fun of me, Lisa?”

“Dude, relax,” patting his shoulder you sigh. “Lisa, she had a bucket list of guys she wants to fuck during her time at Stanford. You were the last one,” licking your lips you look Dean all over again. “Don’t know why she broke up with you before you did the nasty.”

“I wanted to wait this time,” Dean hands you a single red rose, shaking his head. “I didn’t even like her that much. It’s just, my brother and his girlfriend called me a heartbreaker, and no one believes I can be faithful.”

“Only as you like to have sex and not commit doesn’t mean you are a bad person!” 

“Exactly,” nodding eagerly Dean licks his lips. “I never cheated on a girl. I’m young and want to live my life to the fullest. I do not promise a girl marriage or crap. If you go out with me,” he shamelessly drinks your body in, eyes stopping to your cleavage, “you’ll get dirty soon enough.”

“Ahem,” dipping your head you look past Dean to see your nosy neighbor watch you and the cocky guy. “You better come inside or Mrs. Nosy over there will talk trash about me again.”

“You wanna invite me in, sweetheart,” smirk on his plump lips Dean follows you inside your apartment, eyes immediately drifting toward your ass. “I like the view.”

“Asshole,” you know without looking that Dean was staring at your ass in your sleep shorts. “I wanted to have a nap after studying non-stop. How about coffee?”

“Can I have a slice of the pie too?” he asks, eyes drifting toward your legs when you stop in your tracks to turn around. 

“If you answer me one question, you’ll get a slice, Winchester,” he grins, eyes glued to your lips now. 

“Shoot me, sweetheart.”

“It’s Y/N and I want to know,” fisting his jacket you look up at Dean, lips pressed into a thin line, “if you fucked my former roommate.”

“Nope,” he purrs, leaning closer to inhale your shampoo. “I told you about my problems.”

“You mean the problems other people have with your lifestyle, Dean,” you pat his cheek before you turn back around to walk toward the kitchen. “I don’t do relationships either.”

“Why? I’m simply curious,” he asks, following you toward the kitchen.

“I like sex, not heartbreak,” you shrug, turning your attention toward the coffee machine. “How do you like it?”

“Rough, wet, a lot of kissing and I love to do it in the kitchen,” you laugh nervously when Dean steps closer to grip your waistline. “Sweetheart, I could show it to you right now.”

“I meant your coffee, Winchester but,” your hands are in his hair seconds later, “give me some sugar first.” He kisses you greedily, forces his tongue into your mouth, making you moan.

“I’m on it,” he picks you up to hold you against the wall, hastily tugging at your top while you try to shove his jacket down his shoulders. “Okay, let me get you out of the top and I’ll show you the goods.”

“Deal.”

Your top and his jacket end up splattered on the floor. You are impatient, just like Dean when you grasp for each other.

“Fuck, Y/N,” he whines when you take the lead, hand down his pants to get his dick out. “I need a condom.”

“The cookie jar with the naughty girl on it,” you grin when Dean looks at the jar with a naked guy. “Yeah, that one is the naughty cookie jar.”

“That’s a guy but fuck it—” while you stand on wobbling legs, Dean fetches a condom to roll it over his length, his pants still on. “You’ve got some naughty stuff in your kitchen, sweetheart.”

Dean grins when he ushers back toward you. His member stands tall and proud, reminds you of your favorite toy. But Dean’s cock looks much better than any toy you ever saw.

“Come here, lover boy-“ you crook your finger to lure Dean in. “Give it to me good.”

“That is the worst quote you could bring up,” either way, Dean grips you roughly, slams your back against the wall, smirking when you wrap your legs around his waist. 

“You love it, asshole. Now, how do you like it?” wrapping your arms around his shoulders you smirk. “Come on, fuck me, Dean!”

“I’m on it,” Dean groans against you, fighting to shove your sleep shorts aside. “Fucking with clothes on is difficult.”

“Don’t act all coy now,” you dig your fingertips into his shoulders when he finally slips inside, thrusting forward to fill you in on go. “That’s much better.”

“Yeah?” he laughs against you, ignores you fought over apple pie this morning. “Worth a slice of apple pie?”

“Fuck me and we can talk about your pie,” how he manages to hold you against the wall and move at the pace he sets is a mystery to you. Dean groans with every thrust, loves the slick sound of your coupling fills the kitchen. “Fuck, that’s good.”

“Better than fighting?” he grips your ass, squeezes your flesh roughly while you try to hold tight onto his shoulders. “Damn me, I should’ve taken you right there, in the parking lot of the fucking store.”

“Hmmm…” you dip your head, try anything to capture his plump lips. “You promised a lot of kissing.” panting you try to focus on the man move inside of you, not your ringing phone. “Fuck, call me later.”

“Shit—fuck—sweetheart I need you to cum for me,” if you ever heard a man make an erotic noise it's right at the moment when Dean moans against your lips. “Y/N—”

“D-Dean,” a choked-out moan leaves your lips as your body trembles violently. “I love fucking in clothes.”

“I knew you are a dirty little slut the moment you stole my pie,” Dean speeds up, chases his release while you tug at his hair, and crash your lips onto his mouth to swallow his deep groans. Seconds later Dean comes with a loud grunt, and a violent jerk of his hips.

“That wasn’t bad, Winchester—”

“It was a B, Y/N,” he sighs against you, tongue licking into your mouth. “Sorry, I was on the edge for months. I tried to be a good boy and not fuck on the first date.”

“Well, congrats and thank you for the orgasm,” you tug harder at his hair, grinning when he growls low in his throat. “If you want some pie, I want round two in my bedroom.”

“Already addicted?”

“Maybe…”

“There is nothing better than postcoital pie,” you laugh at Dean’s words, even pat his chest. It’s been a long time since you felt comfortable around a guy. “So, will you tell me why you don’t do relationships?”

“I thought you were about to leave,” you roll to your side, eyes closing for a moment to not watch Dean go.

“I could stay a little longer,” Dean offers. “I like your bed, it’s comfortable and I’m a little tired after round three. Hell, my jaw still hurts.”

“I had two serious relationships,” oddly Dean spoons you to bury his face in your neck. “My first boyfriend and the dude popping my cherry dropped me shortly after we arrived at Stanford. He wanted parties, random girls and I, well I believed in monogamy.”

“A cheater?”

“Nah, he broke up with me before he fucked the first chick. At least he had better manners than my second boyfriend,” you turn around to face Dean. It’s an odd feeling to have him so close. 

“I only had one real relationship. Her name was Cassie and she kinda was the one breaking my heart back then. She wasn’t my first girl, but the first I fell in love with.”

“Anyways,” concentrating on the freckles on Dean’s face you try to swallow the lump in your throat, “my second boyfriend, I caught him in the act, on our bed. After that, I decided to never let anyone in again.”

“Sorry,” mumbling the word Dean slides his hand over your hair. “I’m the last guy telling you they were douches. I’m no better.”

“Did you ever cheat?”

“Nope.”

“In that case, you are a better man, Dean,” somehow Dean feels his chest swell at your words. No one ever cared about his side of the story. Everyone believes he’s a heartbreaker, a cheater even.

“WHAT THE FUCK DEAN!” Lisa drops her keys, furiously waving her hands while you whip your head toward her, grinning like the devil.

“Ah, hey, Lis’,” you give her a wink. “As you decided to steal my favorite dress when I asked you to move out and told everyone I kicked you out, I just snatched your boyfriend out of your hands.”

“WAIT—WHAT?” Dean gapes at Lisa, huffing when she throws insults at him. “Uh-you said she wanted to break up with me.”

“Lisa only sent her lovers to my apartment when she wanted to break up with them. She wasn’t here to meet up with you hours ago,” you shrug. 

“I gave him the wrong address,” while you move your hand toward Dean’s thigh to grip it tightly Lisa throws a tantrum. “I called!”

“Ah, yeah,” laughing you look at your phone on the ground. “We were kinda busy fucking. Sorry, Lisa. The joke is on you this time.”

“Good thing I wanted to fuck him once and dump him too,” storming out of your bedroom Lisa kicks things out of her way, even smashes a lamp against the wall. “I bet he’s a loser and can’t get it up. I tried to get in his pants for weeks.”

“Yeah about that, he’s a bomb, Lis’!”

“Did you know she didn’t want to dump me?” brows furrowed Dean looks at you. 

“No,” covering your eyes with one arm you sigh. “I told you she likes to do this. Anytime she wanted to dump a guy she left the apartment and only came back after I called her. I honestly believed it’s the same with you.”

“She wanted to dump me either way,” rolling onto his back Dean looks at the ceiling. “Guess I am luckless when it comes to relationships and crap.”

“Same, dude—”

“Why are you here again?” looking at the pie in Dean’s hands you eye the gift warily. “Dean, what do you want?”

“You see—” placing the pie onto the kitchen counter Dean sighs deeply. “I know you don’t do relationships, but I think we clicked. I know you must’ve felt it too.”

“I felt orgasms,” you like to play it cool, and not give away you thought about Dean the whole weekend. “Dean, this won’t work out.”

“How can you be sure if you don’t even want to try? I’m not perfect, but I promise to be honest and never cheat on you, Y/N,” shuffling on his feet Dean looks at you. “We could go for a date. If you don’t like me, we can stay friends.”

“Friends with benefits?” sliding your hand over Dean’s chest you look up at him. 

“Deal…”

“Okay, the benefits ain’t that bad, Winchester,” this time you barely made it out of your apartment before he had you in the backseat of his car and later at the room he shares with his classmate.

“I heard you are looking for a roommate,” Dean smirks when you look up at him. “Well, we can’t always fuck at my room. The sock over the doorknob doesn’t always work out.”

“You want to move in with me?”

“Yeah, uh—erm,” stammering Dean tries to convince you to let him move in with you. “I mean, we could have sex anytime. I’m a great roommate. My burgers are the best and we can study together.”

“You will pay half of the rent and help me clean too. Only as I let you see me naked doesn’t mean I will treat you differently.”

“Deal, sweetheart…”

“Deal, Mr. Winchester.”

And then, they were roommates…and lovers…and best friends…and much later…they grew old and grey together…

Tags in reblog.

[dontworrysunflower]

Merry Fucking Christmas | h.s.

a/n: i’m baaaaccckk!! lol idk it took me a while to finish this and i was gonna have it finished before christmas but then i was exposed to covid so i was little paranoid but anyway (i’m good tho). merry christmas and happy holidays!! i know this years been hard but hopefully we can make it a little better :)

warnings: drinking, angst?? idk not proof read word vomit, some language too

word count: 3.1k

also thank you @watchmegetobsessed !!

feedback/reblogs appreciated

You knew the holidays this year were going to be difficult. You procrastinated on getting gifts for your friends. Your work seemed to pile up on your desk since you got your promotion. You weren’t able to fly back home, and you still had some thanksgiving weight you weren’t able to put off.

Oh yeah, another thing. Harry was still with his girlfriend.

You met Katy, Harry’s girlfriend, at his birthday party in February. She was the epitome of ‘his type’. She had bleach blonde extensions and the bluest eyes you've ever seen. She was tall and really, really loud.

Since then, she’s all he ever talked about when they weren’t together, but when they were in the same room, boy did you want to gag.

You thought they would last maybe three to four months, you were so sure, you bet with some of your other friends.

Needless to say, you lost quite a lot of money.

You tried not to let it bother you, really. But it was so hard when Harry is the literal sweetest person you’ve met, had the voice of an angel and wasn’t bad to look at.

You felt you were the closest with Harry when you moved to London. He made you feel welcome in your little friends group. There was a little flirting game between the two of you that you didn’t even notice until one of your friends brought it up.

“Oh c’mon, it’s so obvious you like each other.” Margot slurred, her second glass clinking against the table as she finished every drop.

“What?” You asked, baffled. Your eyes were wide and your face started to heat up. “He doesn’t like me.”

“But you like him?” Ava, a friend from work, smirked at you.

You stumbled on your words, wiping at the condensation on your glass.

But since he was in a relationship now, you felt almost icky around him. You felt so uncomfortable around him that you did whatever you could to not be in the same room as him.

You were ready for the holidays, you thought. It would give you a break from constantly thinking about him being so busy with your family back in your hometown.

You should’ve known London weather wouldn’t be in your favor. It rained constantly everyday and the fog seemed to get closer to the ground every other day. The weather was getting so bad that you started working from home, the roads too wet and icy to drive on. So honestly, you weren’t that surprised when airports closed due to the weather, meaning you had to spend Christmas in London.

With Harry.

The day after flights were cancelled Harry texted on your group chat saying he could host a dinner and party on Christmas eve and everyone was invited. You watched texts from your other friends flood in, some excited vulgar words were thrown in there as well.

You never responded. Not only because you still felt weird around him for having this massive crush on him, but because things haven’t really been the same between you two.

You can’t remember the last time you had a full on conversation with him before you had to excuse yourself because you couldn’t take the ache in your chest when you were around him, and he wasn’t yours. You can’t remember the last joke he ever told you or when you went out for lunch or drinks when it was only the two of you. You were sure he noticed how weird you were around him, but never said anything, so you let it be.

As the day neared, your mind would change on whether you were going or not. You didn’t want to seem bitchy and cold on what was supposed to be the happiest and cheerful day of the year, so you thought you would go. You thought of every reason you shouldn’t go that had nothing to do with Harry, but you knew you wouldn’t be able to handle seeing him cozy up with his very serious girlfriend.

But there would be alcohol, so you decided to go.

•••

Hey (y/n)! Think you come over early and help me set up for tomorrow? H xx

You stared at the text for what seemed like hours, but it was only a couple seconds. Before you could even register what your fingers were doing, you tied up a quick message and hit send before you could stop yourself.

Of course!! See you tomorrow!

You hated yourself for the rest of the day. Why would you do this to yourself? You could barely be in the same room as him and some other friends. How would you survive being alone before the party started?

•••

The butterflies in your stomach have not been able to settle since you woke up Christmas Eve morning. Just the thought of seeing him made you nervous. You almost didn’t get out of bed that morning. But you pat yourself on the back when your feet finally hit your wooden flooring and moved on with your day.

Your shoulders hung low beside you as the time to meet up grew closer, the sun lowering behind you, Christmas lights and inflatable decorations coming to life as stars dotted the sky.

You sighed heavily as you styled your hair and naturally did your makeup.

You slid on your silky, tight dress and grabbed your coat and quickly made your way to your car to get away from the bitter cold.

You rubbed your hands together, blowing into them to regain some feeling before turning the key into the ignition, quickly turning the heater on, Mariah Carey blasting through your speakers.

You were about to pull out of your driveway, mumbling along to Mariah’s notes when you realized you forgot the gifts.

•••

Your shoulders were hunched up as you knocked on the white door, your foot tapping against the brick stairs of Harry’s house as you waited for him to open it in the freezing cold.

You could hear shuffling from the other side and watched the doorknob wiggle, Harry having trouble with his lock since June and still hasn’t had anyone fix it.

The door swings open to reveal Harry in his glory, brown corduroy pants and an ugly Christmas sweater under an apron that’s tied around his slender waist that you’ve always been jealous of.

“Hey, sorry, come on in.” Harry said to you before moving out of the way, a bowl nestled between his side and his arm.

You mumbled a quiet thank you before stepping in, your cheeks reddening at the warmth enveloping you as you walked through the foyer of his home.

“Mm,” he hummed as he remembered something. He puts down the bowl he had on his white kitchen counter and waddles over to you, a small curve on his lips as he wrapped his arms around you. “Merry Christmas, love.”

You hate that nickname. But you don’t. You hate the butterflies that flutter in your stomach when he says that word. You hate the goosebumps it causes you and the hairs sticking up on your neck when he says the one thing you feel too harshly for him. And you hate how much he doesn’t feel it back.

“Merry Christmas, Harry.” You mumbled into his neck, his cologne flooding your senses bringing you comfort.

He doesn’t let go of you yet, but he backs up just a little to see you. “You look gorgeous, (y/n).”

The air gets stuck in your lungs and you almost forgot how to formulate words. You hoped Harry thought the pigment on your cheeks would be from the cold because it totally was. Before it was obvious how his words affected you, you stuttered out a few words. “Thank you, you look nice too.”

He chuckled at you, the breath passing his lips hitting your neck, a tingle passing through your spine. “You don’t have to lie, darling.” He squeezed you one last time before letting you go, your body instantly becoming colder as he backed away.

There's a low hum of Christmas music playing in his surround sound system, a tall tree tucked in a corner between his burning fireplace and window looking out onto the street.

You turn your attention back to Harry as he speaks up again, his famous dimples puncturing his cheeks. “Thanks fo’ comin’ early to help me out.”

You rolled your coat off your shoulders and hung by the door, walking up to him as he moved around the kitchen. “Oh yeah, it’s no problem. Not like I had anything else to do.”

He gave you a small sympathetic smile before throwing a tray full of greens into the oven. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go see your family.”

You shrug as you run your finger on the edge of his marble counter. “It’s alright, nothing I can do much anyway.” You perk up when you remember what you’re doing here so early in the first place. “Guess that’s why I’m here, no? What can I help you with?” Your heels click as you move around the counter closer to him.

“Nope.” His lips puckered as he pushed you back to where you were standing. “Just stand there and talk to me. Wine?”

Your brows furrowed in confusion as you blindly nod, watching him uncork a bottle of Moscato. Your favorite.

He hands you a glass of the sparkling wine before turning back around to the dishes, prepping food of all kinds for everyone and most importantly; eggnog.

“But, you said you needed my help.”

He chuckled nervously, his cheeks reddening. From your comment or from the wine? You weren’t going to get your hopes up. “I just need some company before the party. Just stand there and look pretty.”

You try your hardest ignore the blush on your cheeks. You twirl the wine glass from the neck, watching the liquid swirl around in the depths of the glass. “What about Katy?”

He sighs deeply, opening the oven to check on the food. “We’ve been kind of fighting lately.”

You did your best to stop the grin from forming on your lips, hoping he did notice your sudden burst at the new information. They are still together, so you can’t act on anything. “I’m sorry. Can I ask what’s going on?”

He shrugs. “I don’t know really. Anything and everything. Every little thing I do annoys her and anything she does annoys me. It just wasn’t the same.”

“Is she coming?” You ask before you can think about it.

He shrugs again, shoulders hanging more than usual. “I don’t think so. She said she was staying home since she can‘t fly back to her family either.”

A silence hangs between the two of you when neither of you said anything, not really sure of what needs to be said next.

“I don’t think I feel the same way for her as I did in the beginning.” Harry mumbled, arms crossed over his chest as his hip leaning against the counter, his usually bright eyes a little darker, a little sadder.

You walk up to him and lay your hand on his shoulder, giving him a small smile. “It’s not my business but, if you really feel that way, you shouldn’t lead her on, it’ll only hurt both of you.”

Harry looks down at the floor as he nods. “Thanks, love.”

There’s a wave of silence between you again as he raises his head to look at you. You almost felt small under his gaze. Something about his crystal green eyes always made you nervous. You were scared he could see what you were really thinking.

And you also swear his eyes fell to your lips.

•••

The dinner party was in full swing now, people’s laughter bleeding in with the loud Christmas music playing around the house. Some people were dancing in front of the fireplace, drinks being refilled every once in a while.

You were standing by the counter with your friends, Margot and Ava, chatting and drinking your eggnog instead of the wine you had before the party started. You had completely forgotten about the wonderful man hosting this party, the conversation you had earlier with him slipping your mind as the drink in your hand lowered to the bottom of the glass, intoxicating your thoughts.

Even though you offered to help, Harry didn’t let you help with the rest of dinner before everyone came over, so now the food still wasn’t ready as people flooded in. You heard him say something about potatoes and that was as much as you knew of the food preparation and when you would be able to eat.

The music is lowered a bit and then a clicking sound was heard, everyone turning their heads towards Harry, who clinked a fork against his glass. “Dinner is ready!”

Everyone cheered and started making their way towards the dining room. Most people had already filtered towards the next room when a knock on the front door was heard.

You turned your head as Harry twisted the knob. You were sure Harry's face mimicked yours when you saw who was standing at the doorway.

There stood Katy, hair newly bleached and a little overdressed.

She wasted no time in wrapping her arms around him, her plump lips repeatedly marking his face with the bright lipstick.

“Oh god,” you waltzed over towards Ava, who was pouring herself a new glass of eggnog. “pass me the eggnog, I can’t stand this sober.” You pushed her over slightly and grabbed the handle of the ladle she was using, filling up your cup almost to the brim.

Ava looked at you in curiosity at your sudden change, carefully looking over at the lovely couple still by the door. “Wait, I thought you told me they were fighting.” She whispered beside you, eyes widening as she watched you gulp down some of the eggnog you just served yourself to give yourself some more.

“Guess fucking not.” You were much less sober now, on the brink of tipsy and drunk. Your words slurred, eyelids heavy, vision blurry. “Let’s go fucking eat.” You dragged Ava by the wrist towards the commotion in the dining room, almost, but not quite forgetting about the couple behind you.

•••

You’ve had four glasses of eggnog. Or was it five? But now, you stand in front of the bowl, pouring some into your glass again, making it six.

“Don’t you think you’ve had enough?” You hear his sultry voice behind you, his tone a little sassy and annoyed, but you didn’t care.

“What are you gonna do about it?” You slurred, turning around to face him. His pink lips were turned down in a frown, his eyebrows furrowed in frustration, his buff arms that were constricted in his sweater cross in front of his chest. “Gonna go kiss your girlfriend some more?” You stumbled on your feet, your drink almost spilling over the rim.

“What does that have to do with anything?” His face changed from annoyance to confusion. His thumb twisting the ring on his other finger nervously.

You open your mouth to retaliate, but even in this drunk state you knew not to say anything. You chug the creamy drink, keeping eye contact with him, watching his face change again. You didn’t care.

He obviously didn’t care either.

You sighed dramatically as you finished the drink. “Merry fucking Christmas.”

•••

You had sobered up quite a bit after your little encounter with Harry, mainly because there was no eggnog left.

You realized it was for the better though, so you made your way back into the kitchen, doing your best to not stumble or bump against anything as you grabbed an empty cup to fill with water.

“I am really sorry.” You knew his voice anywhere. But it wasn’t his usual chirpy, charming voice he had that always soothed you, it sounded more sad and somber.

“On Christmas? Out of any day you chose today?” Katy sniffled, voice wobbly and hurt.

“I know but, you know we can’t go on any longer, we’ll just hurt each other more.”

“I think I'm going to head out.”

You don’t hear Harry say anything back, but the sound of the door clicking open catches your attention and you almost turn around to watch.

“I just have one question.” Katy said weakly.

You walked away before you could hear anything else.

•••

Even though you were still a little upset at Harry (For what? You weren’t sure anymore), you stayed behind as everyone left to help him clean up before you head home.

You were putting things back in his refrigerator when you heard the front door close, the light chatter and drunken goodbyes silenced by the wooden door.

You kept your back towards the door, suddenly nervous of the words that would be spoken between the two of you.

“(y/n), can we talk?” Harry’s voice was low and sultry, your knees almost gave out.

“I should um-I should get going. It’s late.” You hurry around him to grab your things and for the door, but he holds your wrist.

“Please?” He sounded desperate, and for the first time in what felt like days you looked up into his emerald eyes. There was that desperate look in his eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and lips turned down into a frown.

You sigh and nod slowly.

He lets go of your wrist and stuffed his hands in his back pockets, his pink cheeks either from the cold or from nervousness.

“I’m sorry.” He said suddenly. “I didn’t mean to get mad and I know I shouldn’t have said anything.”

Is that it?

You weren’t going to lie, you thought he would profess his love to you or something.

“I um- I also,” he swallows and takes your hand, his rings cold to the touch. “I broke up with Katy.”

Your mouth opened for words to come out but nothing ever left your lips.

“Do you want to know the real reason why Katy and I were fighting?”

You’re still speechless, scared of the answer, even though you have an idea of what he'll say.

“I’ve always liked you, (y/n).” His shoulders rise in a deep breath. “I guess, I don’t know, I thought if I started seeing someone else it would it easier but, not being with you this past year has been hell and I know I haven’t made it any easier with being with Katy but—”

Your lips crash on his, your arms wrapping his neck, your fingers immediately tangling in his brown locks.

He stumbles back in shock but grabs at your hips, bringing you closer to his chest.

His pink lips press against yours, the corners slowly turning up into a smile, breaking your kiss.

“Merry fucking Christmas to me.”

•••

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[icerosecrystal]

Marijon - My Secret Older Sister

Her name is Marinette Amani Al-Ghul. Marinette is the first grandchild of the demon-head and the daughter of Talia Al-Ghul. She is also the older sister of Damian Al-Ghul by two years. Despite what others may think, both she and her brother came from the same man. Bruce Wayne. Although Damian has no idea who his father is, Marinette has known for eight years. Despite the young age of 12, she was an incredibly smart girl. She also possessed the ability to be happy and feel love. But not in front of anyone but her brother and sometimes her mother. She and her brother had a great relationship. They were always there for each other. Damian was there for Marinette when her grandfather Ra's would sometimes beat her for not doing well on a mission. And he would base it solely on her gender. Marinette was there for Damian the first time Damian had to kill someone. It disgusted him, but he continued doing it for the sake of his title.  

Then the day the League fell came. Slade had attacked when Ra's was showing the whole League to Damian and explaining that it would all one day be his. Marinette was standing behind them next to her mother. Ra's had told her mother to grab both of them and run. Marinette protected her brother throughout it all when suddenly, Marinette got shot in the stomach. She collapsed in pain. She saw her mother running back to them, so Marinette let go of Damian, who was looking at her worriedly, "Damian, my akhi, go run, save yourself. Tell Mother to take you to Father. I'll be fine."

Damian was crying now, "NO, I won't leave you, you have to come with me. Please don't leave me, ukhti."

Marinette smiled sadly. She then hugged Damian and kissed him on the cheek, "I love you. And I promise I will find you one day." She let go of his hand as Talia quickly grabbed his arm and lead him to the docks, glancing at Marinette once in worry.

Marinette was lying still for a little bit before she heard a voice say, "Tom, I found her!" Marinette turned her head to the side and saw her godmother, Sabine Cheng recently Dupain-Cheng, hurrying over to her, with her godfather Tom not too far behind.

When they reached her, they gasped at the wound in her stomach. Tom picked her up and quickly walked to the docks with Sabine following. "Where we going?" Marinette said her voiced slurring, herself only half-conscious due to the blood loss.

Sabine answered, "We're going to Paris. We had a house there just in case we ever had to escape the League."

Marinette nodded in turn before she closed her eyes, letting the exhaustion take over. "Good night," she heard before she was fully asleep.  

Marinette woke up to an unfamiliar scene. She tensed, but when she caught sight of her godparents, she relaxed, "So what's the plan?"

Sabine was the one who answered", Well, you aren't allowed to act like the devil in disguise." Marinette scoffed, but she didn't argue, knowing Sabine was right. She may be sweet with her family, but with strangers and acquaintances, she wasn't the nicest. "Also, you are going to be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. You are the daughter of two bakers, Tom and I, and you are a designer. You will also be clumsy and stutter a lot."

Marinette nodded in understanding, "Okay, but what about Damian?"

Sabine sighed, "You're just going to have to hope that one day you find each other again."

Marinette nodded in understanding. She then went up to her new room, ready to put on a mask for the rest of the world to see.

(Time Skip)

It was now the start of the tenth grade for Marinette. She was now thirteen-years-old, and she was ready to play her part of the clumsy baker's daughter. She took some macaroons for her new classmates and then walked outside. While she waited to cross the street, she caught sight of a man crossing the street. A car was heading right to him. Regardless of who she was pretending to be, she wasn't going to let a man get hurt. She ran and quickly pulled him to the sidewalk, effectively using it as an excuse to trip over her feet. She handed the man a macaroon and then ran to school.

At school, she sat down quietly in her seat. When a dark girl, with brown hair and auburn highlights, picked a fight with a blonde girl. The blonde girl was supposedly bullying Marinette. Marinette and the blonde girl exchanged looks, acknowledging that the girl before them was a load of bull. Marinette then found out that the blonde girl's name was Chloe, and she was a bully, and the other girl was Alya.

Marinette looked around the classroom, analyzing everybody.

She then heard a voice scream, "Kim!"

She looked behind her to see a big, burly blonde kid, look like he wanted to beat up somebody. The teacher then asked him, "Ivan, what is going on?"

The blonde kid replied, "It's Kim! I'm so going to get..."

The teacher then pointed to the door and shouted, "Ivan, go to the principal's office."

Before Ivan could stomp off angrily, Marinette spoke up, quite surprised by the way the teacher was handling things, "With all due respect Miss, you didn't even listen to Ivan's side of the story. It could be Kim that's bullying Ivan, but you're rather playing favoritism."

The teacher sputtered, not knowing how to react, "Who gave you the authority to question my teaching skills?"

Marinette smirked, replying, " Common sense."

Mrs. Bustier walked out of the classroom to calm down, pure fury clear on her face. That day she turned into Zombispect. When she kissed them, they would automatically obey and respect her. That was also the day Lady Spots and Chat Noir resided in Paris.

While Lady Spots was a great superhero, Chat Noir was an incompetent fool. Marinette hated him. He would always flirt with her and never get anything done. And in many cases, if he didn't get what he wanted, he would either threaten to quit or sit out. Marinette never told him, but she honestly thought that she did better in battle when he wasn't around.

In terms of her civilian life, Alya convinced herself that she was Marinette's best friend and that Marinette had a crush on Adrien. In actuality, Marinette's best friend was and is her brother, Damian, and Chloe. While Chloe was spoiled, she was also neglected by her parents, which made her act rather bitchy at times. And she for sure did not have a crush on the spineless Adrien Agreste. No one in the class knew anything about the real her. But her godparents and even Chloe, who knew a bit about her. But, the one person that Marinette wanted to talk to was her precious little brother. She needed to hug him, spoil him, and talk with him about everything. But most of all, she wanted to know that he was still alive and happy somewhere.

Marinette would cry herself to bed every day, hoping that one day she would see him again. Thankfully, Tikki was on her side.

(Time Skip of one year. This is after Volpina, but before Chameleon)

It has been two years since Marinette last saw her brother. Alya was still going strong, coming up with ridiculous plans for her to date Adrien. She was still a "clumsy" baker girl. And while designing was her supposed hobby, after about a month, she really got into it. What pissed Marinette off the most was that she had to wear pink, have her room pink, and wear pigtails. Why? Because it strengthened the fact that she was an innocent, little, naive girl. While it did help people underestimate her, it annoyed the heck out of her. She actually ranted to her godparents one day about how bad her appearance was, "How can one color be so bright?! How could anyone like looking at it?! Why the hell do these pigtails make me look like a short-ass baby?! I look like a fucking moron! Where the hell is Damian when you need him?!" It was about three days later when her question was answered.

Marinette had been walking around town when suddenly someone bumped into Marinette.  Marinette caught herself and caught the person she bumped into. But the words that came out of the person's mouth had her reeling, "Tt, what type of imbecile are you to be bumping into people on the street?" Marinette would know that voice anywhere. And sure enough, when she actually looked at the person that she bumped into, she was staring into the face of her brother. When he realized who she was, he let out a timid, "Marinette," that had Marinette practically sobbing.

When she found that her face was wet, she realized that she was sobbing, but she didn't care. Damian was alive. She strangled him with a hug, cooing softly into his ear once he too started crying. They stayed like that for a while before they released each other. It was then that Marinette saw the boy standing behind Damian.

She blushed when she noticed his features, black hair like her own, the bluest, purest eyes she had ever seen. He was wearing glasses that gave him a nerdy look, but his body begged to differ. He was very tall, probably 5ft 11, and had huge muscles that gave off more of a jock look. He had so many characteristics that Marinette felt insanely attracted. She snapped out of her thoughts and offered the boy a hand, "Marinette Dupain-Cheng, or Marinette Al-Ghul, Damien's older sister by two years."

He gave her a blinding smile that could rival the sun and then kissed her hand, "Jonathan Kent, Jon for short. It's nice to meet the sister of my best friend." The more she studied him, the more she realized that he looked familiar. It was then that she realized he was Superboy, the superhero Alya had been raving about last week.

Marinette blushed at him kissing her hand. She then decided to let her inner devil come out to play. Leaning closer, she whispered, "It's nice to meet you too. I hope that you have been nice to my brother. Because if I found out you haven't, I might get my katana and skin you. I know that you might be invincible, but with the kryptonite, which I do have, you would be weakened within a second. So make your decisions carefully." She then leaned back and watched how his expression changed. His face went from happy, to confused, to shocked, to scared, and the surprisingly, love.

He smirked, "Well, you are better than I expected." He then pulled out a piece of paper and wrote his phone number. "Call me, you're hot and a little devil, I like it." He then winked and gave it to her.

They both heard Damian scream, "KENT! Stay away from my sister before I skin you!"

Marinette giggled and took the piece of paper from him. She then asked, "You look to be about my age. Why are you with Damian?"

Jon replied, "I'm 15-years-old. So one year older than you. (I know that Jon is actually three years younger in Super Sons, but for this to work, Jon is three older, not younger. If you have any problems with that, fight me.) And Damian and I work together a lot. We're considered the Super Sons, so we're best friends."

Marinette nodded in understanding before suggesting that they all go to a coffee shop to talk. Damian and Jon agreed. Damian told Marinette all about their father, their brothers, and sisters, him being Robin. He told her everything. She offered him support and asked questions about their family.

When it was her turn, she explained how Tom and Sabine saved her and how she came to Paris. And how she is pretending to be a clumsy sweet girl who likes pink. (She wasn't totally over the whole pink thing along with the pigtails.)  That coaxed a laugh out of both Damian and Jon. But when she got to the part about Alya, Damian wanted to skin Alya. He was Marinette's best friend, not some dumb harlot. When she explained how she was Lady Spots, and Chat Noir had some major failings as a partner, it took both Jon and Marinette to hold him back. He continued trying to escape while shouting, "LET ME AT HIM, HE DARE FLIRT WITH MY SISTER!!! I'LL SKIN HIS SORRY ASS BEFORE RIPPING HIM INTO SHREDS AND DUMPING HIM IN A RIVER!" He then continued to explain exactly how he would kill Chat Noir. Marinette knew that he was capable of going through with his plan, so she distracted him by asking for his phone number so that they could stay in contact. Damian calmed down enough to give it to her.

When she realized how late it was, she gave a hug and promised to meet up with him for the rest of the week. She also promised that once he left Paris, she would stay in contact. She wasn't going to leave her brother again. She then went up to Jon and kissed his cheek before saying goodbye. She then turned around and went home. If she had stayed a second longer, she would have seen Jon blush and then touch the cheek that she kissed with his fingertips, a goofy smile adorning his lips. Although Damian wanted to keep Jon away from his sister, he supposed Jon was better than the mangy cat or the spineless model.

For the rest of the week, the three met up every day and did different activities. One day they went to the Lourve, another an arcade, the day after that a carnival, and so on. On their last day, they went to the park and then went for Andre's ice cream. When they arrived, Andre greeted Marinette, "Bonjour Marinette! Would you like a sweetheart ice cream."

"Oui Andre. This is my brother Damian, and his friend Jon." She then turned to the boys, "Andre is the sweetheart's ice cream maker. He essentially gives you icecream based on the characteristics of your soul mate. Damian, how about you go first."

Damian stepped in front of the cart, "Ah, Damian, one scoop of violet and honey for her eyes, coconut ash for her hair, and cherry for her mysterious and complicated past. Here you are." (There is actually such a thing as black ice cream. It's made with coconut ash that people sometimes flavor with burnt honey vanilla.)

Damian took the ice cream and looked at it. He then realized that it looked like Raven, his crush. He blushed. "Ah, I see the love fair and true. I suppose you know who is right for you?" Damian nodded and started eating his ice cream, a small smile gracing his lips. He then paid attention to his sister and his best friend. They were now getting their ice cream.

Andre looked at the two and said, "Ah, but here's the truth, the two of you are the right match. You complete each other just like one, so come, let Andre supply you with love." Marinette and Jon were both surprised by the turn of events. But they both just blushed and agreed. Andre then said, "Blueberry for both your eyes, strawberry for her lips, cherry for his secret, and cotton candy for your personalities. Enjoy!"

Jon and Marinette waved goodbye and then ate their ice cream. They were still surprised about the turn of events. Neither knew what to say to the other until picked up some courage and asked, "Would you like to be my girlfriend?"

Marinette was surprised but agreed. They shared a chaste kiss. They then heard Damian gagging in the background. They broke apart, and Jon raised an eyebrow, "You're one to talk. I saw your ice cream. It really represented, mmph." Damian covered Jon's mouth before he could blurt out the name of his sweetheart.

"Kent looks like it's time to go! By the way, if you hurt my sister, I won't hesitate to kill you." He then dragged Jon off, leaving Marinette to chuckle to herself. The next day, she said goodbye to Damian and Jon. She gave them both a quick hug along with an extra kiss for Jon. She was so happy that she had found her brother again.

(Time Skip of three years)

It has been three years since Marinette bumped into Damian and Jon in Paris. The two visited whenever they could, the same with Marinette. But they never told their families. Marinette didn't tell her family because they didn't know she was Ladybug. Damian didn't tell because he wanted his sister to himself. Jon didn't tell because the other two didn't. Jon's and Marinette's relationship was still going strong. They loved each other very much. Jon loved how playful and happy Marinette could be, but she wouldn't hesitate to kill anyone. She was his little devil. Marinette loved Jon because of how pure and sunshiny he was. She loved how he cared for her and was always there for her no matter what. Damian actually started a relationship with Rachel Roth otherwise known as Raven as Andre's ice cream had indicated all those years ago.

During the three years, many things had changed, though. A girl named Lila came and turned everyone against her except Chloe. Marinette pretended that she was sad, but really she was ecstatic that she didn't have to hang out with morons anymore. She found Lila quite pathetic. Lila let others do her dirty work for her. She hid behind lies and morons. Marinette never found her as a threat.

She also defeated Hawkmoth a year ago, but it was because he surrendered. So, she didn't take him to jail, she made him donate thousands of dollars to people who needed therapy from the akumas and do community service. He agreed, so she let him go. She was glad that Gabriel Agreste had learned his lesson.

Yeah, for the most part, everything was going fine, she wasn't stuck with morons, and she had her brother and boyfriend. Until her brother and significant idiot forgot that her bio family didn't know about her.

It was the end of another shitty day for Marinette. She collapsed on her chaise. She looked at the time and realized that it was time for her's and Damian's video calls. She groaned before getting up and getting her phone. She dialed his number before waiting for him to pick up. Once he did, she saw that Jon was with him. They all talked together animatedly. What Damian and Jon forgot to do, was make sure that the Bat-family didn't come back from patrol while they were still on the call. But naturally, the two idiots forgot.

So, two hours later, when the three were still talking, they didn't realize when Jason came into the room. They only did when Jason screamed, "Demon Spawn and Supes Junior are talking to a girl on the phone!" This alerted the rest of the Waynes, so they all ran into Damian's room. When they entered, they were met with quite a sight. A confused Jason was watching a small pixie-like girl screaming at Jon and Damian in what seemed to be Arabic, Urdu, Russian, English, French, Spanish, Romanian, and Greek.

Once she calmed down, although she was still glaring at the two boys, she introduced herself, "Hi, my name is Marinette."

Dick asked her, "What's your last name?"

Marinette replied, "It depends on who your asking. Here in France, I would be Marinette Dupain-Cheng. In the league, I would be Marinette Al-Ghul. But, my real name would most likely be Marinette Wayne."

Jason yelled, "Your married to Demon Spawn!"

Marinette scowled, "No, Tt, are you always this incompetent? I am Damian's older sister by two years. I am also Jon's girlfriend of three years."

Bruce took a deep breath and pinched his nose, "And the reason none of you said anything was because?" He looked directly at Damian when asking the question.

Damian snapped, "I didn't want to share my beloved sister. She is too good for you imbeciles. She is also too good for Kent. But Kent is better than the mangy cat or the ugly model."

Everyone looked at Marinette confused except for Damian and Jon. She quickly shook her head, "Don't ask. If you want to ask me some questions, I'll be there in a minute."

Damian realizing that she was going to use the horse miraculous to transport to Gotham quickly said, "Wait, no, don't!" But she had already ended the call making Damian curse in Arabic.

Seconds later a portal appeared and a girl stepped out. She then spoke, "Kaalki, dismount." A flash appeared around her and they then saw the same girl on the phone now in front of them.

This left Wayne's gaping, while Alfred asked, "Mistress Marinette, would Kaalki I assume, need anything?"

Marinette replied, "Oui, she prefers sugar cubes to recharge. Merci, Alfred."

Then Jon got up and shouted, "My little devil!"

"Sunshine", Marinette exclaimed in joy before kissing him with full force. He kissed her back passionately. She placed her arm on his shoulders while he held her waist and lifted her a little off the ground. After a little bit, there was an awkward cough that reminded them that there were others in the room. They gave each other one more peck, before reluctantly pulling away. Although, Jon's arm was still around her waist. Marinette tried to not focus on the aching in her chest that was telling her to pounce on Jon and smother him in love and kisses while he did the same to her.

Marinette sighed and tried to focus on the situation at hand, "It's nice to meet all of you. My name is Marinette Al-Ghul Wayne, and I am Damian's sister as mentioned."

They all stared at her strangely until Tim asked, "Are you sure you grew up with Damian, or that your mother is Talia Al-Ghul? You seem a lot more different from Demon Spawn."

She smirked at them viciously, "First of all, I am for sure Damian's biological sister. Second of all, I may seem like an angel, but I'm the devil in disguise, hence Jon's nickname for me. Third of all, I'm not as arrogant as Damian because Ra's was always abusing me since I was a girl. So, I am a lot worse than Damian, I just don't show it."

No one knew what to do with this information. Sure Damian already knew about the beatings, but no one else did. They stared at her in worry, but she just waved them off, "Don't worry about me. Ra's is dead, I'm living with my godparents, and I'm happy."

Damian then rose an eyebrow, "What about your moronic classmates?"

"Oh, I didn't tell you. This pathetic girl who threatened to take my friends away, made it so that no one talks to me anymore. So, yay! Oooh, also I should probably explain my life to you?" She then went on to talk about everything, how her life was at the league, what happened when Slade attacked,  her life in Paris and when she became Lady Spots, how she met Damian and Jon, what happened after that.

By the end of her story, everyone looked like they wanted to kill her classmates and Chat Noir. Well, almost everyone. Bruce was on the ground muttering to himself, "Why, why, why? I just wanted one of my kids to not be a superhero. Is that too much to ask for?"

While Bruce had his breakdown, Tim asked her, "Did you defeat Hawkmoth?"

"Yeah, I did. He surrendered, so I let him off with some requirements in place. I actually was thinking of doing something to expose Lila. As much as I hate the morons, their future will be horrible if they keep on listening to that pathetic bitch."

Damian looked at her curiously, "What were you thinking?

"You are going to invite my class to the Wayne Gala. There we are going to introduce the whole family, including me. Damian, you are going to bring Raven. I'll bring Jon obviously. If we disprove that she knows the Waynes, the rest of her lies will come crashing down." Everyone smiled obviously pleased with the idea.

So they spent the next month getting the gala together. They organized a contest that Bustier's class won. During the month, the Waynes got to know Marinette. While Damian did have a problem with sharing her, everyone still go to know her. They were officially scared of her after she won after sparing against everyone and then cussing at Damian in many languages. It made Jon fall more in love with her though.

Another problem was that the Waynes would walk into Jon's and Marinette's make-out sessions all the time. Once, Jon, had Marinette pushed up against a wall and he was kissing her passionately. Marinette had her hands in his hair, one of them playing with the ends of his hair. She had taken off his shirt and was kissing down his neck. Jon had groaned and had stopped her so he could kiss her neck as well making her moan in want. He was whispering about what he wanted to do with her at the same time. Through dazed eyes, Marinette looked up and finally saw her family looking at her, both Damian and Bruce had their jaws clenched. When Jon noticed them, he quickly let go of her. Dick, Jason, and Tim started laughing, cooing, and teasing them, making Marinette hide her head in his chest. This made Damian launch himself at Jon, but before he could, Marinette had already disarmed him. She screamed, "Don't hurt my boyfriend, Damian." He just huffed, but let it go. From then on, they made sure to lock the door.

It was finally the day of the gala. Marinette saw all of her classmates. They mostly looked nice, but Lila was wearing an incredibly revealing dress.

It was then time for the reveal. Bruce went up to the stage and announced, "Good evening, everybody. I am pleased that you could all attend. Today, I would like to introduce all of my children along with their significant other. To start, my oldest son Richard Grayson, also known as Dick Grayson along with his wife Kori Grayson."

(Bruce's suit)

(Dick's Suit)

(Kori's Dress)

"My son Jason Todd."

(Jason's suit)

"My son Tim Drake."

(Tim's suit)

"My son Damian Wayne with his girlfriend Rachel Roth."

(Damien's suit)

(Rachel's dress)

"Finally, my new found daughter, also Damian's biological older sister Marinette Wayne. With her date Jon Kent."

(Marinette's dress) 

(Jon's suit)

When her classmates saw Marinette they started screaming insults. She just raised an eyebrow at them, "Is there a problem?"

Alya yelled, "Yeah there is. You're not a Wayne, you never told me that you were."

Marinette replied, "We were never best friends so I was under no obligation to tell you anything. I am a Wayne. I just lived with my godparents in Paris until my dad found out about me. I am dating my handsome boyfriend, Jonathan Kent. I have given you so much proof. How about you question Lila. She claimed that she was dating Damian. Damian is two years younger than her and he is dating Rachel. She isn't close to the Waynes, I am. So, stop questioning me and question her."

Everyone looked at Lila, but she was incredibly pale. That showed everyone that she was lying. They started yelling at her. Bruce then spoke up, "Security, escort this class out of the gala." As security did so, no one stopped yelling at Lila.

Marinette and Jon then turned to the reporters and Marinette said, "Five questions go."

She pointed to one reporter, "Where do you live?"

"Paris like I mentioned earlier."

She pointed to another, "How old are you?"

"I am 17-years-old, almost 18."

She pointed to a third one, "Were you surprised about being a Wayne?"

"No, I knew that I was a Wayne my whole life. But I was sent to my godparents instead of my dad like Damian. But I still knew." She pointed to her family, "They were surprised about my existence."

She pointed to a fourth reporter, "How do you like being a Wayne?"

"I really enjoy it. They are so nice to me. I really cherish them and we all have a lot of fun together. "

She pointed to a final reporter, "Do you like being Jonathan Kent's girlfriend and how did you meet?"

"We met when I bumped into him and my brother in Paris. We spent the week together. We got this thing called sweethearts ice cream. The ice cream tells you who your soulmate is. The guy who runs it Andre said that we were meant to be together. Jon asked me to be his girlfriend after. We have been a couple for three years. I love Jon a lot. He's really sweet and considerate. I wouldn't trade him for the world." Everyone awed.

Jon then picked her up bridal style, "Now that this is over, we'll be going home to have some fun." He winked at everyone.

Marinette blushed at the implications, "JON!" But, Jon silenced her with a passionate kiss, carrying her off the stage.

As Marinette kissed him back, she felt so happy. She had a loving family and boyfriend. They accepted her and cherished her.

She didn't know that the league was going to be attacked, but it helped her grow as a person and escape abuse. She didn't know that she would get a boyfriend. She didn't know she would ever meet her little brother ever again or meet her family. She didn't know what the future had in store for her. But she did know that she was going to spend it with her boyfriend and her family, and nothing was going to stop her.

(Sorry for the pictures smack in the middle of everything!)

[fuck-you-i-am-spiderman]

yessssss ways to be wicked is a favorite of mine too, and all of the marlos 😌 i hadn't expected those marlos moments when i first started to watch descendants 2 but now they're some of the most iconic parts of the movie. i totally vibe with mal's wardrobe too. hmm do you have any favorite tropes or such for descendants characters? one of my favorite tropes is anything to do with magic, like witch evie.

Yasssssss, you have excellent taste Anon! WTBW appreciation time is upon us folks! I think it is one of, if not my actual favourite, group number. The vibes are just *chef's kiss* and exactlyyyyyy, the Marlos really snuck up on us and I think it really opened my eyes to all of the Marlos interactions, it definitely hooked me in and I think from just looking at my blog and my fics everyone can see how much I love the Marlos dynamic.

I love SO MANY tropes honestly, it's hard to pinpoint specific ones but I'll try my best. (Note, I think these are more headcanons and thoughts than tropes so sorry :']))

- Jock!Mal is a beloved of mine, I firmly believe that if Lonnie can join the fencing team then Mal could've joined the tourney team, because I would've loved to see Carlos and Evie bonding over chemistry y'know.

- I mean, I do love a good best friends to lovers...and I think that fits super well with many of my descendants faves honestly. All of the "and they shared a bed" but it doesn't faze any of them because they're so used to all cramming into one bed that it doesn't make a difference to them.

- Anytime they're sharing clothes, like borrowing Jay's hoodie, Jay giving Carlos his beanie, Evie draping a scarf around a grumpy Mal. Mal or Carlos wearing an oversized sweater or hoodie gives me such life, it's such a soft and perfect image But also I think it's because here are these kids that have only ever know to take and to only be out for themselves, that having feelings and caring about people is wrong. But here they are wanting to share something for these people who are the most important to them, wanting to share it. I just...I can't articulate what I mean properly but this!

- Character A: Yeah, I can’t make you do *thing,* but they can - character B: *smirks* - it works with any of them, I just. One pout from Evie or Carlos and they're done for.

- Evie playfully reprimanding the others for swearing but then she cusses ALL THE DAMN TIME. Like she mutters snarky shit under her breath and one time after a conversation with "King" Adam she told him to fuck off and then ran away. Just Evie being allowed to swear and be rude and be bitchy, I love bitchy!Evie. Because for most of her childhood she's been made to act a certain way, she's not been allowed to be angry, she's been taught that she must act a certain way and then when getting to Auradon she is forced into remedial goodness and she is stopped from acting the way she wants to act without consequences. And, I am not a fan of constantly shoving Evie into this "mom friend" role, when clearly that belongs to Jay, like Evie isn't always repremanding them - she can also cause chaos and be a bitch, whilst also being one of the nicest people you will ever meet. It's the duality she deserves.

- Always a sucker for protective Rotten four, especially protective Carlos because people seem to write him off as "weak" but when Carlos is mad? Like he's canonically the only one who stood up to their parents in the video chat scene?! Also how he is with Mal in D2, like if looks could kill RIP ben :'))) but also, I just love the idea of Carlos reigning hell fire on people for hurting the three people he cares about most

- That weapon trope where the person is like "hand over all of your weapons" and then keeps glaring at them until they've handed over ever weapon including the little piece of barbed wire in their pocket and taking out hairgrips. I'm sorry but Evie would have so many places to hide her weapons, all the pockets!!! Jay straight up trying to sneak weapons into his hat and everybody shrieking when Carlos pulls a dagger from his boot.

- All the magic! Mal has magic, Evie has magic, Jay has magic. EVERYONE GETS SOME MAGIC!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just like the ideas of them all exploring their magic and my precious magical beloveds and Carlos supporting their magical endevours by encoruaging pranks and experiments with magic!!!

- Dragon Mal! But also, like her skin glittering and her being able to fly even when she's not fully transformed, her having little horns and scales along her arms. More of Mal and her dragon qualities and exploring those sides of her even, like partial transformations. Can she shapeshift into a smaller dragon? Do her scales change colour when her emotions do? When she's mad do the scales on her arms get more prominent? All of the dragon lore.

- Similarly, all the fae lore too. Like, I recently wrote a thing where I mentioned that Mal, being a fae or part-fae; doesn't get cold like the others, not that she doesn't get cold, but that it doesn't affect her as much as it does the others. like Mal's teeth being like little fangs, and her exploring her fae roots and what that means for her.

[sapphicquill]

TAZ Balance: the truth will set you free

(ao3 link!)

Rating: Teen 

Characters: Taako, Kravitz, Magnus

Wordcount: 2942

“You’re fuming, dear.” 

Taako turns to look at Kravitz when the reaper speaks, trying not to let the thin frown fall off of his face at the sight of his uncharacteristically smug dead boyfriend. From his spot as Taako’s personal body pillow, Magnus laughs quietly.

“I can’t believe he convinced you to teach him this shit,” Taako says with an exaggerated huff. The elf crosses his arms tightly across his chest, sticking his chin up haughtily to hammer home his petulence. Magnus laughs again, the vibrations of it rumbling through Taako’s back like a purr. Taako very courteously does not throw an elbow backwards into the fighter’s stomach, despite how much he would enjoy doing just that. Kravitz lets out a hum, smirk not quite leaving his unfairly handsome face. 

“It’s not my fault Angus got curious about multiclassing as a bard,” the reaper finally says. And, as much as Taako was loath to acknowledge it, Kravitz is right. Taako groans theatrically and pointedly does not actually respond like an adult, because fuck that. 

Angus had approached Taako after one of their lessons together--much less frequent than they once were, before Lucas had gotten the idea to start up a small magic school, but Angus seemed content to return to his first (and clearly superior) tutor whenever the chance presented itself. But instead of asking for some sage wisdom or deeply insightful advice from Taako himself, Angus had asked for confirmation that Kravitz had been a bard before becoming a reaper, then begged for Taako to bring him along for their next lesson. 

Kravitz had been over the moon when Taako begrudgingly explained the situation, and the reaper wasted absolutely no time in devising a lesson plan for the boy detective. Taako had to work especially hard to keep from swooning over his boyfriend’s enthusiasm and instead sulked to their other boyfriend about the cruelty of life. (Magnus had been very little help, the bastard. Taako left with a disgruntled whine when the fighter started theorizing on how to convince Ango that learning some rogue skills could be helpful too, the absolute traitor.) 

“You want to know what I think?” Kravitz asks after another moment of silence. Taako frowns as he finally lets his gaze meet the reaper’s eyes directly. 

“Not particularly, but something tells me you’re going to keep talking anyway, you dick.”

“You’re jealous.”

Taako feels himself freeze for half a second before he can pull himself together. Damn Kravitz for knowing him so well. Damn him and Magnus for making him feel comfortable enough to even let himself be read that easily. Damn them both.

“Oh fuck right off, you’re full of shit,” the elf tosses back almost automatically through gritted teeth. 

“Hey, play nice,” Magnus teases, poking Taako in the side. The unexpected jab sends a fluttering shockwave through the startled wizard, who squeaks before he can catch himself. Kravitz continues to look on smugly, not breaking eye contact with Taako as he scoots further up the bed and closer to the other two. 

“You’re very precious when you get all wound up like this, love,” he murmurs. Taako shifts, instinct telling him to pull away and hide, to clam up and put up an even harder front. A quiet voice that sounded worryingly sweet and comforting tells him to just come clean to the both of his boyfriends. It wasn’t like they didn’t know he was secretly a soft, if somewhat emotionally-deficient, sap. Magnus had definitely figured it out somewhere along that first hundred years, and Kravitz was frighteningly perceptive.

A sudden weight around his waist distracts Taako from the beginning of whatever bullshit emotional spiral he’s about to fall into, his body automatically pulling against the sudden restriction. Though the warmth of Magnus’ arms encircling him from behind sends an innate sense of calm through him, the elf nearly pulls something in his neck as he whips his head toward the human because Magnus, what the actual hell. Magnus has the decency to look a bit sheepish, but resolutely does not let go. 

“Mags…” Taako growls, narrowing his eyes and trying to look intimidating despite the growing fluttering of excitement in his stomach. He’s quickly figuring out Magnus’ plan and is now desperate to not show his hand because fuck, this got different, fast. This somehow turned into Taako goading his boys into absolutely wrecking him for being a stubborn piece of shit, which he hadn’t even considered as an outcome when this mock argument had started. Now, however, his mind is three steps ahead, already craving the feeling of his partners’ touches driving him insane.

Because here’s the thing—Taako, maybe, kinda, sorta actually likes getting tickled. He absolutely would never say as much, even under pain of death (and he is really familiar with how  fucking painful death can be), and the only other being in the multiverse that probably knows is Lup because, duh, twin sister or whatever. So it was always imperative Taako never let on in any way he didn’t exactly hate it when Magnus and Kravitz, whether alone or together, decide to tickle him stupid. He would probably implode from the embarrassment—and what a dumb fucking way to go after everything else. No, that wouldn’t do at all. 

Thus, it’s second nature for the elf to throw out menacing glares and cutting threats, which is exactly what he does as he feels Magnus flex his fingers and rest them at the center of his stomach. He’s unable to resist flinching at the sudden light touch to his bare midriff, though—damn, why did he and Lup convert the majority of his wardrobe into crop tops? 

Movement at the other end of the bed catches his attention, so he redirects back to Kravitz, face pinched and pout sufficiently exaggerated. 

“It’s quite alright, Taako, really,” the reaper says, affecting the tone he usually saves for puppies and small children, the absolute ass, “You’re allowed to want to be Angus’ favorite.”

“Shut up, I do not—” 

The remainder of Taako’s protest is swallowed by a sharp gasp as Magnus draws his fingers across Taako’s stomach with a quick flick

“Do you really think you’re in any position to be bitchy right now?” the human says, smile evident despite his gruff tone. Taako feels his ear twitch as Magnus’s breath skates across his skin and it takes every ounce of concentration he has to not shiver or let out a breathy half-laugh. Instead the elf remains as still as possible, frown almost ridiculously exaggerated and eyes narrow slits focused on Kravitz. The reaper adopts an over-the-top pout—no doubt meant to mock Taako’s own expression—and draws ever closer to Taako and Magnus. 

“Magnus, maybe you could help me convince our beloved to be more honest, hm?” 

The words have barely left Kravitz’s mouth when Taako feels Magnus begin to slowly drag his fingertips across his exposed stomach. Tiny zings of tickly sensation burst across Taako’s skin like low-level electricity and somehow keeping still and silent is the hardest thing Taako’s ever done in his life. He can’t, however, keep the warm bubbling feeling of anticipation and excitement from flooding his entire body, and that, of course, makes keeping still even fucking harder. 

Magnus’ fingers trail lightly across Taako’s abdomen before slowly gliding up his sides. Without really meaning to, Taako squeezes his eyes shut, trying to will himself into a trance by force. This clearly amuses both of his boyfriends, as their joint chuckles echo in stereo in the sudden darkness. Taako feels like he’s standing on the edge of a cliff, one wrong move and he’ll cascade off the side and plunge ten thousand feet—

Then Magnus’s devilish touch reaches the top of his ribs and the dam breaks. 

A steady stream of hiccuping giggles pours from Taako as Magnus gently skitters light tickles across one of Taako’s absolute worst spots and even without looking, the elf can tell that his boyfriends have both got gleeful expressions on their stupid fucking faces. He squirms, trying in vain to block out the torturous sensation of Magnus’ fingers or escape their attack altogether, but that just seems to encourage the fighter. Feather-light scritches instantly turn into fast, fluttering pinches and quick vibrating prods and Taako would be embarrassed about how quickly he dissolves into full-fledged laughter if he wasn’t so busy absolutely losing his mind. 

“Ready to admit you secretly adore Angus yet, love?” Kravitz asks from far too close, Taako can tell he’s almost pressed up against his chest, but fucking of course he isn’t. He can practically hear the mischievous grin in the reaper’s voice when he shakes his head. 

“You leave me no choice, then.” 

Over the sounds of his increasingly frantic laughter, Taako can hear Kravitz speaking the incantation for Zone of Truth, and he’s sure Krav’s crimson eyes are sparkling with mirth. The unique sensation of enchantment magic washing over him barely phases the elf—he’s too preoccupied with Magnus’ deft hands flitting up and down his ribs to really pay it much mind. Taako squeezes his eyes even tighter and attempts to focus on resisting the truth spell, gasping around his laughter, trying to push past the way his nerves feel like they’ve been set alight so he can focus—

And then promptly fails his save. 

Of course he fails his save. How could he possibly concentrate on resisting a Zone of Truth from a powerful ex-bard-turned-Grim-Reaper with Magnus’ fucking fingers skittering across his abdomen, drawing squeaky, desperate laughter from him like water from a well? 

“Now, come on, dove, be honest with us.” 

And then Kravitz is tickling him too, on top of concentrating on a fucking spell, his nimble musician’s fingers skittering ruthlessly across Taako’s hips, and it’s impossible to think about anything other than the fluttering in his stomach, the laughter forcing its way out of his lungs, the pleasant fuzziness already clouding his mind. He can’t even remember Krav’s question, really. Taako’s brain feels like it’s been filled with cotton (but like, in a good way) and he can barely string two thoughts together before giving up thinking altogether. 

“Admit it, Taako, tell us the truth,” Kravitz purrs directly into Taako’s ear and even that tickles like hell, and between that and the two pairs of hands currently wreaking ticklish havoc on him, it feels like every wire in Taako’s brain is crossing simultaneously. He wants this to end and also never wants this to end, why can’t his boyfriends wreck him like this constantly, it’s not fair—

“Tell us, Ko, come on!” Magnus whines, seemingly trying to match Taako’s usual petulant tone as he drills his fingers into the wizard’s underarms and knocks his laughter up at least ten decibels, and that’s what pushes Taako to open his big, stupid mouth. He means to say something about the dumb boy detective, he really does, but instead all he can think about is Kravitz and Magnus making him scream and laugh and thrash around with teasing words and fluttering fingers and, well—

“I—I—” Taako’s voice breaks on a laugh, brain going a million miles an hour and also stuck in the mud simultaneously.

“Yes dear, that’s it, come on, out with it,” Kravitz says while rubbing incessantly ticklish circles into Taako’s sides. And that finally pushes an answer out of Taako, who manages to push through his laughter long enough to speak. 

“I fucking like being tickled, okay?—Shit—!”

Suddenly, the two pairs of hands on Taako’s skin still, and as his laughter slowly dies down, the full impact of what he’d just actually admitted to hits the elf like a cartload of bricks. Fuck. Shit.

Weirdly, instead of instant fiery panic, Taako is filled with a sense of...calm? It’s like someone hit pause on the entire fucking universe. Taako keeps his eye closed and resolutely doesn’t think about what just happened; doesn’t think about anything, other than a burning sense of mortification and the deepest desire for a hole to open up and swallow him up. 

“Nope, okay, that’s—I didn’t—no, fuck this,” Taako mumbles as he sits up, easily breaking out of Magnus’ hold. With eyes still closed he leaps up from the large bed and has half a mind to burn a Teleportation spell to get as far away from his boyfriends as possible before feeling a cool hand wrap around his wrist. Taako can identify the feel of Kravitz’s touch almost alarmingly well, and normally he sinks into it without more than a few grumbled faux-complaints. Here and now, the wizard doesn’t instantly pull his arm from Kravitz’s grasp like he desperately wants to, but he doesn’t move toward him either. Instead, he keeps his eyes closed and pretends he’s literally anywhere else. 

“Taako, wait,” and that’s Magnus’ voice, the one that always makes a small part of Taako melt because it’s so full of genuine love and affection and care and fuck, he has to open his eyes and face the two men he actually definitely loves, shit. He braces himself, not exactly sure what expressions might adorn the faces of his boyfriends but he’s prepared for the worst. 

The first thing Taako sees when he opens his eyes is, unsurprisingly, Kravitz, as the reaper is closer to him. What does surprise Taako is the look Kravitz is giving him. The other man looks—apologetic? 

“Taako, I’m so sorry,�� Kravitz starts, and Taako feels his heart stutter a bit, waiting for the other shoe to drop. “I should never have cast Zone of Truth and forced you to tell us that.”

And that—

That’s not what Taako had expected to hear come out of Kravitz’s mouth. He’d more or less thought, at the very least, he’d get laughed at. Made fun of. Belittled. Shamed. This is—far from all of that. 

“I—what?” 

If it had been any other time, Taako would have congratulated Krav for actually rendering him fucking speechless, because that’s a rarity. As it is, Taako can’t do much of anything aside from gape, gaze not leaving Kravitz’s crimson eyes. 

“The spell, it didn’t compel you but it forces you to be truthful, and you clearly weren’t ready to tell either of us that you—” 

At this, Kravitz seems to pause, looking like he’s attempting to phrase his words as carefully as possible while still turning over this new information in his mind. Luckily, Magnus, as he always seems able to, picks up right where their Grim Reaper leaves off. 

“You’re totally waiting for us to roast you or something, aren’t you?” 

Fuck, has Magnus always been this perceptive? Taako could have sworn he was oblivious as all hell but no, this is the man he’s known for over a century, of course Magnus knows all his tells. 

“Well, we’re not going to,” the fighter barrels forward, always fucking rushing in, and Taako isn’t sure whether he wants to dive back onto the bed or Misty Step to the front porch to call Lup on the Stone of Farspeech and just scream. 

“Why would we? It’s not like you’ve told us something weird or bad or anything,” Kravitz adds, finally out of his own head. He sounds a little frantic, like he desperately needs Taako to believe him and fantasy Christ, Taako loves him for it. 

“Honestly, it’s kind of adorable,” Magnus adds. Taako finally cocks his head enough to meet the human’s eyes and he’s known Magnus long enough to tell when he’s lying. 

He’s absolutely not lying. 

The sense of relief that Taako expects to flood through him comes in waves. His heart is still beating a million miles an hour (which he hadn’t even noticed, fuck) and it still feels like he could cook a five course meal using only the heat collected on his face, but his desire to run and hide and sulk is retreating, and the space between Magnus and Kravitz is looking more and more inviting by the second. 

It’s the most natural thing in the entirety of the planar system for Taako to lower himself back onto the bed and resume his position lounging against Magnus. Quiet descends on the room and it’s warm, comfortable. 

“We should probably have a real conversation about this later,” Kravitz says, and Taako surprises himself by humming in agreement rather than groaning in protest. 

“Later,” he concedes, and then Magnus is shifting again and Taako’s about to grouse about how a moving pillow is a pretty shitty pillow when—

“So if you actually like getting tickled—”

An involuntary shudder shoots down Taako’s back at this, at Magnus’ voice curling around that word, fuck, and suddenly the great brute’s hands are back on Taako’s ribs and his fingers are slowly tracing Taako’s skin and it’s like a bolt of lightning through his entire consciousness. 

“Then you won’t mind if Krav and I get back to work, huh?”

Despite quickly being overcome by tittering giggles, Taako can sense a voiceless conversation happening over him, and then Kravitz is back in his space and his hands are inching up Taako’s thighs, squeezing and stroking lightly as they go. 

“Yes, Magnus is right—you never actually told us what we really wanted to hear, love,” Kravitz purrs, mischief and affection so clear on his face that there’s no room for Taako’s anxiety to even attempt to convince him of something horrible.  

So instead of spiraling into a pit of despair, Taako revels in the wide grin pulling at his lips, savors the electric sensations rippling across his nerve endings, and laughs. 

[thatasianstereotype]

Damn, You’re Looking Fine.

To my utter delight, my crack writing Fuck. I’m Gay. got a good reception. I was not expecting to write more for this AU/pairing. But why not? I got some ideas and a computer to write them down on.

So this fic is the took-a-while-to-put-together sequel. It’s focused on the downfall of one certain Liar-la, Damian wooing Adrien with all the flair and romantics as his Chaton deserves, and Adrien being a blushing hot gay mess. 

P.S. Damian’s formal way of talking is an utter pain to write but hilarious to read.

P.S.S. Creative liberties were taken. Again. I just feel this needs to be mentioned. 

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So Status Update:

Adrien and Damian are definitely dating (It is totally official. Told you ya boi got game).

Adrien still calls him Hot-And-Sexy from time to time much to his utter mortification (He can’t make himself stop. Please send help). And Dami gets amused by it every single time, that arrogant smug jerk.

Marinette still puts the fear of god in Damian and he is wary of her. She feels very proud about that. Adrien wants to facepalm.

Fuck Gabriel Agreste.  

And Lila Rossi is still a bitch.  

Adrien and Marinette were made aware about Damian’s alter ego —well mostly because he is utterly terrified of Marinette’s seemingly sweet (icy) smile she gave him when she politely asked how he obtained the Butterfly and Peacock Miraculous and partly because of Adrien’s pouting kitten eyes. 

They truly were a pair to reckon with. 

.

“I am not sure why the Justice League dismissed your concerns and pleas for assistance. So I am taking the initiative. My name is Damian Wayne, the son of Batman and the current Robin and leader of the Teen Titans.”

He’s a superhero too?! And it’s Robin!!! One of his favorites!! Can you hear him internally squealing in excitement?

Adrien bit his lip to keep from fanboying right then and there. But a slight pink hue spread across his face. 

“You’re not lying.” Mari has gotten pretty good at deciphering through people’s bullshit. Whether it’s because she is now a Guardian or because Lila’s bitchiness made her a human lie-detector remains unknown.

Damian took it in stride. “I am not.”

“Paris is still our city.”

“I am only offering my assistance.” He won’t barge in on their superhero duties to the city. He has more class than that.

Mari didn’t have to look at Adrien to know his decision.

She smiled, a bright genuine smile. “Then we’re allies.” Before her eyes gained a spark of mischief and her smile turned teasing. “Hot-And-Sexy.” 

“Marinette!” Adrien immediately covered his blushing bright red face with both hands, utterly mortified. 

His sister was evil. E. V. I. L. And why is Damian smirking and looking so smug? Fuck! He even makes that look completely hot. Curse his Adonis genes. And curse his teenage hormones. 

He regrets introducing the two of them together. What a pair they make. Truly a couple of fur-midable terrors here. 

.

Back to the matter at hand, Marinette is able to ensure that Hawk Moth and Mayura will never be out again and another akuma won’t be made. She already made sure that the miraculous were better protected. 

Damian has enough evidence to put them behind bars for their crimes but Marinette wanted to go through it and make sure that Adrien won’t suffer the repercussions of having a villain for a dad so they held onto it until they figure out how best to protect their sunshine. 

.

Ah Shit. 

“Duusu? Where are you?” 

Did Gabriel lose the miraculous again? 

But when he looked into the last place he left it, he groaned. Fuck. His brooch was a fake again.

He knew he shouldn’t have made a miraculous fashion line and had replicas of the miraculous jewelries made. It was his most popular items to date. He has gotten lot of praises for getting the details just right and capturing the essence of each miraculous holder. No surprise there. He deals with them on a daily basis. He should get the details fucking right. 

It’s a wonder he only came up with a line because there was talk that he was becoming obsolete with no new ideas coming forth and if there is one thing that Gabriel Agreste isn’t, it is being obsolete. 

The line was just a joke, a parody of the heroes and villains if you will, but apparently people like it. Ladybug and Chat Noir were the most popular obviously (he should’ve seen that coming to be honest). Hardly anyone buys Hawk Moth or Mayura and he is left with boxes of fake brooches. 

It is annoying.

Especially since he keeps fucking misplacing his miraculous. 

.

Adrien felt like he could be a Disney princess and just skip his way to school and sing for the world to hear. 

Now that the Butterfly miraculous were safely with Marinette, he doesn’t have to worry about another akuma. He could just die happy right now. His dad doesn’t have a hold over him anymore. He doesn’t have to put up with Liar-la anymore. But if they put up a fuss? Well, worst case scenario is he becomes a Dupain-Cheng. 

And he doesn’t mind. He’s already an honorary one. 

And if that somehow doesn’t work out (which he highly doubts), Damian offered to make him a Wayne. 

.

Françoise Dupont High School experienced a shock that morning. Specifically Ms. Bustier’s class. 

When they saw Adrien and Marinette walking in class with arms intertwined, laughing and smiling together. 

What the actual fuck?

Did they cross into an alternate universe? Marinette is a nasty bully and Adrien’s a pure sunshine child. Why would they be acting like they were the best of friends? 

Lila glowered darkly when she saw them walking towards the back and sitting at the same table. Didn’t Adrien care about what his father thinks? Doesn’t he want to still be able to go to school? 

She bit her lip and turned on the waterworks, her eyes close to bursting into tears. She made herself be the very picture of a pitiful woe-is-me victim as she cried out in a hurtful and betrayed tone. “Adrien, what are you doing with her? I thought we were close friends.” 

The sheep class instantly catered to Lila, pointing their fingers at the pair. 

Alya, her biggest supporter, led the charge as always. “Adrien! What do you have to say for yourself? How could you cheat on Lila like this? And with her?” 

Adrien narrowed his eyes at his former friend. Bitch, how dare she implies he was in an actual relationship and had feelings for that harlot. 

Wow. 

He has been spending way too much time around Damian. 

"Yeah, bro!” Kim said, raising his voice. “How could you do her dirty?” 

“Okay guys.” Adrien cut in. “I don’t know where you heard that but me and Lila are not dating. Like at all.” 

“Please.”Alya waved him off like he didn’t know what he was talking about (he was highly offended at the notion he didn’t know what his heart yearns for). “We all know you have feelings for Lila. You’re just in denial over them.”

Bitch, what?

Is no one catching onto his chaotic gay vibes here?  

And oh, how his fragile little heart was betrayed yet again when he saw Nino supporting his girlfriend. He still couldn’t believe the first friend he made all by himself was a part of their rabid pack. He deeply mourned the loss of such a great friend in the midst of that deceiving fox’s claws. 

“How many times do I need to say it?” At this point, Adrien was about to throw hands. “I don’t like Lila like that. I feel nothing but pure spite for her. Also, me and Marinette are not dating if anyone’s wondering. We’re just really good friends.”

“But Marinette’s a big bully.” Alix piped up, a hard edge in her voice. “She treats Lila horribly.”

“Marinette didn’t do anything to her. Rossi is lying.” 

“Oh Adrien.” It was Mylene of all people who spoke up. “Did Marinette get to you with her lies?” 

He was done. 

Completely and utterly done. 

He looked over at Marinette who shared his exasperation at the class’ antics. 

Adrien already said it before. But it bears repeating.

Lila Rossi is a bitch.

Luckily (or maybe unluckily), that was the moment Ms. Bustier chose to step in the room and class started. 

When the teacher’s back was turned, Adrien pulled out his phone and proceeded to spend the rest of the time alternating between taking notes and texting with Damian. 

They were currently at the stage of their relationship to be sending animal pics and memes back and forth, with a few puns added from time to time. 

He really does have the perfect boyfriend. 

.

They cornered him after school. 

One: Rude. 

And two: Double rude. 

He was excited to meet Hot-And-Sexy (daMn iT! It’s Damian! Get it right brain) at the bakery and spending time with his two most favorite people in the world (Tom and Sabine don’t count because actual parents don’t have a ranking). 

His former friends were looking all concerned and everything because they somehow collectively came up with the idea that Marinette actually brainwashed him to believe Lila was evil. 

The fucking irony. 

They actually had the audacity to say that Marinette —sweet and honestly badass Marinette— was no good and just wanted to use Adrien to get ahead in the fashion industry (as if Mari actually needed him for that). He shouldn’t be around her. Lila was a much better person to keep as company. 

Adrien laughed in their faces and left. 

.

Onto happier events, Adrien was having a blast hanging out with Mari and Dami. His boyfriend (he still can’t believe he managed to score such a hottie!) fit right in the everything-that-matters siblings’ dynamics. 

They were in Mari’s room. Adrien was cuddling with Damian on her bed. And Mari was at her desk working on fashion designs. 

“So what’s your family like?” He played with Dami’s hair. It was so soft. Like what the fuck. It is so unfair. 

Damian thought about it for a few seconds. “My family is a bit...crazy. We drive each other insane every other day but at the end of the day, I have no doubt they have my back as I have theirs.” 

“You guys sound close.” 

“We were not always. We had an extensive amount of issues to work through before we actually bonded as a true family.” 

It was quiet for a minute until Damian casually said. “I would appreciate it a great deal if you can make time to visit Gotham for the summer.” 

Adrien stopped playing with his hair to look at him with wide incredulous eyes. “Summer’s only two months away.” 

“I am aware.” 

“You really want me to meet them? Isn’t it too early?” 

“I met yours the day we started dating.” 

True but....

Adrien averted his eyes. “Do you think your family will like me? You guys fight criminals and my dad’s a villain.” 

Damian put his hands over Adrien’s and gave them a light squeeze, making his Chaton look back at him. 

“My mother is a villain and I was raised as an assassin. Yet despite of that, my father accepted me. And I am fairly confident he will do the same to you. Mon amour, you have a pure and selfless heart. You are a better person than I am. I have no doubt that my family will love you from the start. 

“Are you being fur real right meow?” Adrien tried to lighten the atmosphere but he could feel his eyes tearing up. 

"I wouldn’t lie to mew.” 

He let out a small laugh, wiping his eyes. How did he ever get so lucky to land such an amazing guy? “You always know the purr-fect thing to say.” 

“We get it you’re in love. It’s amazing. Now stop it with the puns.” Mari rolled her eyes, utterly exasperated at these idiots who just ignored her and pulled out even more cat puns. “You have got to be kitten me.” 

Before she noticed what she said and groaned in faux despair. “Oh you two are so dead.”

Adrien stuck out his tongue playfully. “You can’t catch me. I got a handsome knight in shining armor to protect me.” 

Damian interlaced their fingers. “Always, mon amour. I’ll protect you from everything like your wicked father.”

“Does that make me the dragon here?” Mari joined in. “Cool. I can breathe fire and torch people. Too bad I can’t do that to a certain liar.” 

“Liar-la is totally the witch here.” Adrien said before thinking for a few seconds. “Does this make me the princess?” 

“Well, knights always have to save the damsel in distress.” Mari said. 

He frowned before crossing his arms indignantly. “Dami, I love you more than Plagg loves his stinky cheese, but I’m no damsel in distress.” 

Damian rolled his eyes. “Tt. Of course not. You can destroy things with a single touch. It would be not be in my best interests to downplay your abilities.”

Adrien relaxed and beamed a sunny smile. “Good. Remember that.” 

“Mon amour, I look for an equal as a partner, not some weak spoiled harlot that can not defend their self.” Damian placed a flower crown (that was just sitting on Marinette’s nightstand, must be one of her projects) on Adrien’s head. “Having said that I do believe you are a prince that deserves all the love and care in the world.” 

And oh my. 

Adrien can feel his face burning scarlet and his heart almost bursting at how sweet this incredible, conceited Adonis was. 

He was falling in love with Damian over and over again each time they meet up. 

“You deserve love too, Dami.” 

And sweet, caring Hot-And-Sexy (Ah, fuck it. He will never grow out of that) placed a soft kiss on his cheek. 

Oh dear, he didn’t know his face can burned any redder. 

He could almost hear Mari cooing in the background. 

And in case anyone was wondering, Tom and Sabine adores their everything-that-actually-matters son’s boyfriend. Damian Wayne seems like a responsible young lad. And he makes Adrien really happy which is a major plus. Anything that makes their son happy is good in their books. 

.

Lila was not at all pleased. 

Why was Adrien suddenly hanging out with Marinette? Yeah, he doesn’t buy into her lies but she was confident he will be lured into her charms. Why wouldn’t he be? She was young and way more beautiful than a baker’s daughter. He was supposed to be hers. 

She and Gabriel are going to have a talk about his rebellious son. 

Except when she arrived at the Agreste mansion, Gabriel was apparently too busy to see her. 

He was too occupied with searching through boxes of fake miraculous to find Duusu to bother with her. 

“I don’t have time for you.” 

“Excuse me?!” 

She was aghast. How dare he speak this way to his biggest supporter —well, besides Mayura and Nathalie. 

“You’re excused. Now leave the premises.”

Before the door shut in her face and she was left fuming, her face an unflattering angry red. 

.

Being Damian’s boyfriend, Adrien has come to learn that Damian does nothing by halves. Including asking him out on a date. And the actual dates themselves. 

Today as the sun fell down and night came about, Damian and Adrien were taking a stroll in the park. It was relaxing and it was nice. They talked about everything and anything. 

Adrien did not think Damian planned anything more. 

But he really shouldn’t underestimate the son of Batman. 

Because when the last of the sun’s rays were gone, Damian led him to a gazebo strung up with beautiful lights giving the whole place an ethereal feel. And with the bright moon out tonight, it looked like fairies dancing in the garden. 

He didn’t notice Damian pressed play on his phone and classical music filled the air. 

He definitely noticed Damian bowing with a flourished and holding out his hand with a charming smile. “May I have this dance, Chaton?”

Adrien would have to be a huge fool to say no. 

“I’ll loved to.” He placed his hand in Damian’s and let the Adonis lead him in a simple waltz. 

This was his life. 

His life was one big sappy romance novel. And you know what, he doesn’t care if it is. Between dealing with his shitty father and Liar-la, this kitty deserves some happiness. 

.

It was a scene from one of those Disney fairy tale movies Adrien used to watch as kid. The magic. The love. The romantics. He felt like Cinderella and wished this night will never end, that the clock will never strike midnight. He just wanted to stay in his Prince Charming’s arms forever. 

Under the starry night sky, the lovebirds danced to their heart’s content and when another song ended, Damian tilted his head down to place a tender kiss on Adrien’s lips. 

“I harbor a great deal of non-platonic affections for you, mon amour.”

“I love you too, Hot-And-Sexy.” 

.

What the fuck?!

Seriously. 

What the actual fuck? 

Lila was simply walking home after her disastrous meeting with Gabriel (She was still not over how he simply dismissed her like she was nothing. How dare he). 

When she saw them. 

Adrien and some guy (she’s pretty sure that was a guy) dancing in the park. She can feel that disgusting jealousy just burning in her veins, a cold anger thrumming underneath. 

Things were not at all going her way. 

First, Adrien is back to being friends with that Mari-whore. Then, Gabriel ignores her. Her. And now, she is seeing her Adrien in the arms of someone else. 

Oh this will just not do. 

She took out her phone from her pocket and snapped a couple of pictures, making sure Adrien can clearly be seen. She didn’t care too much about the other guy. He’s probably just another pretty airhead Adrien knew through his father. He’s not important. 

A cruel smirk appeared on her face at the thought of the perfect revenge. Adrien was going to have a rough time at school tomorrow. After all, he should’ve known better than to make a move against her. 

.

“Seriously?!”

“Wow.” 

“I’m sure there’s an explanation for this.”

“Yeah. Adrien is obviously gay. That’s the only explanation.” 

“....Maybe not? There could be another reason.”

Lila had watery eyes and a sad frown on her face but inside, she was fucking smiling like a Cheshire cat. She made sure to be at school early so she can show the class the picture of Adrien’s little date last night. Who —predictably— were shocked at their sunshine child being with a guy and made plans to confront him about his supposed sexuality. 

She glowed at the thought of her plan working. This will teach Adrien to know his place or become a social pariah like his little friend Marinette. 

“I thought Adrien had feelings for me.” Lila wiped the “tears” from her eyes. “How could he lead me on like this when he’s been gay all along?” 

Alya —predictably— comforted her. “I’m pretty sure he’s just confused. He doesn’t know what he’s feeling.”

“I’m sure that’s it.” 

The pair didn’t notice Juleka and Rose glaring at them. 

.

Damian was not at all pleased. 

He was rightfully angry. 

How dare that poor sense of fashion taste trollop tried to shame his mon amour for being gay. How dare she try to say he was simply confused and didn’t know any better. How dare she defame his reputation because he holds nothing but spite for her person. 

How dare she. 

As Adrien’s boyfriend and future husband, it is his duty to correct this travesty and defend his Chaton’s honor. 

.

When the Damian Wayne, youngest son of Bruce Wayne, appeared at Françoise Dupont High School, you know that people are gonna stare and talk. 

When he headed towards the courtyard where Adrien and Marinette were sitting at, boy are things going to get juicy. 

Lila and her followers who were sitting a bit father from the outcast pair were utterly confused. They could possibly get Adrien knowing such a super hot celebrity but for him to be on good terms with Marinette too? How inconceivable. Absolutely flabbergasted. 

“Hey Lila didn’t you tell us you knew him and his family?” Max brought up. 

“Uhhh....” Lila knew she dug herself in a corner here. She never thought that the Damian Wayne would ever visit here. At this second rate school. 

“Well, let’s go, girl!” Alya exclaimed. “I’m sure Damian just hasn’t seen you. That’s why he didn’t walk towards you.”

Before proceeding to practically drag Lila to where Damian was talking with Adrien and Marinette. 

Lila, on the other hand, was cursing out Alya in a bunch of different languages in her mind while trying to come up with something to dig herself out of this mess. If they talk to Wayne, the class will realize she was lying all along. 

She was not going to lose control of her kingdom like this —well, not without putting up a fight. 

But when they and the rest of their classmates walked close to the trio, they were shocked when they saw Marinette playfully punching Damian in the arm. 

“Okay. How the hell are you so close with Damian Wayne?” Straight off the bat, Alya was on the offense as she glared at Marinette as if it was Mari who did something wrong. 

Damian answered before the bluenette could. His face was impassive and his glare cold. “I’m Ms. Dupain-Cheng’s top model for her fashion business.”

What? 

Even Lila was taken aback at the news. She knew that goody two shoes likes designing but she didn’t think anybody would actual buy her stuff. She didn’t think a Wayne would like her stuff. 

She could feel her fists clenched. How dare Marinette steal the spotlight again. 

“I’m also Adrien’s boyfriend.” Damian continued casually as if that wasn’t a huge bombshell. 

Everyone’s minds screeched to a halt. 

They knew about the possibility of Adrien being gay since Lila showed him on going on a date with an unidentified but clearly male person yesterday. But they didn’t think there was actually something there. 

Lila could feel her anger clouding her mind. Adrien was supposed to be hers. He was her ticket to fame and fortune. 

“And what about Lila? Aren’t you guys best friends?” Alya put her hands on her hips. How could Damian just ignore someone he is close friends with but give Marinette all the attention? Lila deserves better than that.  

Damian was unamused. “I don’t know her.”

“Yeah, you do.” Alya ignored Lila’s gestures to stop talking. Lila was too shy about her achievements and she was going to have her amazing best friend’s back. “She’s the one who helped your family out multiple times.”

“She did not. And I am appalled that you believe I would know a harlot like her in the first place.” Damian’s face twisted with disgust as he glanced at Liar-la like she was a mere insect. “Please. I have class and dignity.”

“Take that back!” She screeched. “You are so rude.” 

“Are you honestly going to lecture me on my rudeness when you plebians are being hypocrites?”

“What? I’m not a hyprocrite.” 

“Lila Rossi is a pathetic liar who begs for attention like street dogs beg for scraps. She never once saved Jagged’s cat nor does she help out with green charities. Lastly, she is not on close terms with myself nor with my family.”

“No! You’re lying!”

He raised an unimpressed eyebrow. “Ok then. Look her up on the internet. If she is as grand as you lot seem to think, she should have articles dedicated to her. Show me proof of her actions that isn’t your subpar blog and I will give you an exclusive.” 

Alya’s eyes gleamed at what should be an easy challenge. But when she pulled out her phone and typed Lila’s name and what she did in the search engine, her smile disappeared. 

She spent the next few minutes scouring the net for anything, any mention of a Lila Rossi that wasn’t on the LadyBlog. 

She found nothing. 

Lila Rossi was a fucking liar all along. And Alya and the rest of the class believed her. 

“We tried to warn you.” Marinette said in a soft voice. But anyone who knew her knew she was trying to hold back her laughter. 

“Marinette,” Rose cried out as she realized the class has been total jerks to the one person who always had their backs. “We were horribly wrong. Can you ever forgive us?”

She shrugged. “I forgive you. But this doesn’t mean we’re friends again. Because we’re not. Seeing how easily you drop me for that liar without even looking for any kind of proof hurts and I’m not eager to be friends again. Maybe in the future but not right now.”

“That’s goes ditto for me.” Adrien added his two cents. 

Their former friends classmates wore gloomy expressions, utterly devastated at ruining their friendship with their Everyday Ladybug and Sunshine Child. 

And with that, Adrien and Marinette left the courtyard, with light hearts and heads held high. 

Damian shot the class a razor sharp grin. “Well, it’s been nice to meet you.” 

Everyone knew he meant anything but. 

“I always knew teenagers were prone to be foolish imbeciles. But seeing the collective stupidity of you people today made me realize that the bar can in fact be lowered.” 

.

Adrien was fucking ecstatic. 

Elated. Overjoyed. Jubilant. Drunk on happiness. All the synonyms associated. 

Because Lila was finally exposed. The class realized what utter assholes they have been. His father will receive his due (soon according to Mari and Dami). 

He was happily humming a tune as he swung his and Damian’s intertwined hands back and forth. 

He was entirely grateful that Damian showed up to school today. Although he was a bit mean for Adrien’s taste. 

But oh man. Payback was so sweet. 

He smiled giddily. 

Mister Hot-And-Sexy definitely earned himself a kiss. 

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