#things to think about over dinner i suppose

[oceantornadoo]

ch11 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

tw: a little piss bc reader is refused a toilet. some light torture scenes and violence.

masterlist | next

“Where. Is. She.” Ghost slams John against the wall, his forearm to John’s throat. The man’s snarling, an unrestrained beast in a mask. The world zeroes in on the gaze between them, the terrible acceptance that they have a shared weakness. A shared weakness who is gone, potentially dead. All they can do is beat the rotted carcass of this feeling until it breaks. 

Thirty minutes earlier

For the past two hours, there’s been something vibrating under John’s skin. It was there when he pulled Gaz by his collar in the store, searching the man’s eyes for deceit. It was there when he eventually let him down, satisfied with the steel reflecting back at him. It was there when someone handed him his wife’s phone, the screen filled with unread text messages from him asking to get dinner and talk it all out. It followed him all the way to the Castle.

Gaz relocates them quickly, saying he has more devices back at home. John’s home, your home, your shared home. The whole car ride John’s knee shakes up and down, nervous energy permeating the air. All he does is replay your last conversation over and over. 

“I am trapped, John.”

“No matter how I feel about you now, I didn’t pick this marriage.” 

“I can’t even tell if you like me for me or my proximity.”

“I need to go to work before I say something I’ll regret.”

The words swarm through his head like wasps, picking at the insecurities he hides everyday. The worries that you wouldn’t pick him in a normal world, that this has been pillowtalk to pass the days. If you love something you’re supposed to let it go, but he can’t decide between being noble and hoarding you until you forget what life was like before captivity. And of course, all of these thoughts assume you’re alive. He hasn’t let himself consider the full possibility that Shepherd has hurt you in ways that would defile your mind and your body, never leaving you whole again. It all coalesces into an evil energy, vibrating under his skin as the London streets roll by outside the car.

Gaz leads John into the security room with words not meant for him. Murmurs to the house staff, directions ordered over ear pieces. They blur and buzz in John’s eardrums, these damn wasps becoming parasites. He’s too old to consider hunting you himself, knows that he has to trust his man, but the urge is there anyways. Thoughts of escalating into straight warfare, bombing Shepherd’s home without any care for the innocents within. 

That’s what he’s thinking about when Ghost arrives, dragging in coattails of vengeance and dread.

Now

“Stand down, Ghost. This ain’t helpin’.” He croaks out against the pressure in his throat. Ghost’s eyes flare, soulless black pits that see too much. They search John’s, within and around, poking and prodding at the emotions he’s been holding in for the hour since he learned his wife is gone. Whatever Ghost finds is enough, John deemed worthy not to die by the loosening of Ghost’s grip. They pant as one, wishing they had never let themself love a woman enough to destroy their dynasties for her.

The world resumes as Ghost turns away. No one mentions the threat, the way John would have let the guilt drown him if Ghost didn’t. John should have pushed harder, should’ve accompanied you to the store instead of letting you go in his shirt with a faint goodbye on your lips. Like you knew what would happen and went anyway, just to see how far his heart could stretch until it tears.

MacTavish is murmuring low calming words to Ghost, unintelligible over the hum of computers and screens. In this room, all pretense is given up, one man’s hand stroking the other’s. To have a half of a soul live outside the body is a dangerous thing, even more when attacks come from all sides. If he squints, there’s a flash of your glare in Ghost’s, the same half-tilted frown hidden by the mask. It’s like you’re haunting him, no, taunting him with the fact that he’s lost you and now he has to deal with your ghost. It’s all his fault, but he lets the pity fester inside instead of releasing it on everyone else.

“Update, Garrick?” Another croak, a near two minutes after the incident. This is why Gaz is his heir - all he does is hand John the nearest iPad without a mention as to what happened. John reads the screen fast, a list of possible abandoned warehouses near Shepherd locations. It makes sense but the timing is all wrong. He’d expected this if things had been quiet, but there was another scrap between Price men and Shepherd men last night. This kidnapping must have been calculated by someone separate, someone like Phil with a solo mission. He should’ve killed the man when he found out he was working (almost) alone with his wife.

“It’ll be somewhere symbolic. Shepherd likes to make a statement.” Garrick mentions. John hands the tablet silently to Ghost, an offering of peace. In the corner of his eye, he can see MacTavish conferring with Mare, the head of the weapons team, speaking a language only the two of them know. The man frowns, then shakes his head at something Mare says. “Dinnae work like tha’.” It travels over the distance of the room, confusing John enough that he walks over to learn what’s happening.

“Report?” Mare is a bit skittish but cool-headed in times of need, the reason he hired the first ever woman on a Price Family leadership team. He trusts her and her chemistry degrees, plus her sense of urgency. “Sir, we’ve just received word that the weapons stores have been compromised.” It’s like a pin drop, other conversations falling silent as she speaks. “Meaning?” He asks, toeing the line of impatience. “Shepherd’s men struck last night, around the same time as the street fight. We believe it was coordinated between that and the kidnapping to hide it as long as possible. They cut the WiFi, so we only found out during the shift change. All the guards were killed and the weapons taken.” 

John prides himself on acting like a real corporate boss, restrained and professional. However, this is his last fucking straw. “You’re saying Shepherd took my fucking weapons, then my fucking wife? How the hell does this happen?” Ghost grunts at the word ‘wife’ but John ignores it, too focused on the situation at hand. Instead of answering, Mare’s eyes flit around the room. Since it was converted from two bedrooms, it fits up to thirty people and is currently at capacity. He can read his employee too well, and knows she’s nervous about the many ears around. While he usually trusts his people with his life, it’s been an odd day and he decides to err on the side of caution. 

“Mare an’ everyone related t’ me, this way.” There’s an elevator to the upper floor in the back of the room. Ghost and MacTavish fall in line, but Garrick seems frozen and unsure. “Gaz, that includes you.” They don’t acknowledge the head nod, brushing elbows as John hits the elevator button. Once all five are in, John hits the emergency stop between floors, leaving them in purgatory. “Speak.” He instructs Mare.

“There’s a mole. It’s the only way they could have gotten in. I designed that facility myself, sir, and there’s no way they could have gotten in with the tools and soldiers they have. Unless our intel was wrong, and I don’t think it was, we have a rat.” Her words echo in the metal chamber. She meets MacTavish’s eyes and he nods in confirmation. 

“Price.” Ghost grunts, his first words in a while. “It’s someone in that room. They’d hav’ to be on yer security.” John nods at his words and turns to Gaz. “How much longer to narrow down locations?” The man still seems flustered by John’s earlier words and needs a nudge to the shin to spit it out. “An hour, tops. We’re thinking of an abandoned weapons facility or church. Something about what he stole, weapons or marriage.” John grunts at the symbolism of it all. “I’m the first one there.” He demands. “Sir, I-” John turns to look his second in the eye. “I’m the first there.” Gaz nods. John turns back to Ghost and MacTavish, staring at him with twin glares of violence.

“Right, men. We got a rat t’ catch.”

-

“You don’t know what I’d do to find ya and keep ya.”

John’s words echo through your mind as you eye Phil, standing in the corner with a water bottle. You haven’t peed since this morning, 12 hours ago, and he knows. Taunting words sung with a Southern accent, promising a toilet in return for the weapon codes. He’s banking on your embarrassment, that you won’t want to piss yourself in this hellhole. Too bad for him you don’t like to listen to what men tell you to do.

“C’mon, sugar. Know ya got t’ go. Give me the codes an’ I got a nice lil’ bathroom for you. Even has one of those bidets.” You shake your head, refusing. Your bladder is pushing against your stomach, tension growing with every breath. It wouldn’t be too bad if he hadn’t kept feeding you water. You think you’re on bottle six now, what seemed like a blessing turned into a curse.

“Fine. Time f’ another one.” He unscrews and steps to your side, checking your handcuffs before coming near your mouth. It’s like he’s under orders not to hurt you physically. There’s been no beatings, no threat of knives or guns. He needs you alive, and you’re pretty sure you know why. The weapons require both a code and an eye scan, something you can’t fake with a dead body. Johnny created the code section and Gaz added the eye scan later, his coding skills a thing of beauty. His quick thinking is the only thing keeping you alive.

Water pours down your throat. He presses down your tongue to force you to swallow every last drop. When he leans over you, it’s like rose-colored glasses have been removed. His blond hair is limp, face sweaty with concentration. Gone is the charming assistant, bright and fun. You bet he needs you to stay alive for his own safety, his life relying on it.

As water slips into your belly, the pressure to pee goes stronger. With a dirty hand, he pushes on your stomach, and you whine in discomfort. He shouldn’t be touching you, especially in a place so sensitive. The loss of body autonomy is your biggest fear, whether it be motherhood or this. Only John would understand, you think, berating yourself for being so stupidly stubborn. That’s when you make up your mind, to still have control over the one thing you can.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck. You’re fuckin’ disgusting, you dirty bitch.” The piss soaks your jeans and, with enough force, dribbles on his shoe. Phil jumps away in disgust, eyes hardened into flint as he glares at you. “Fuck you.” You spit out. A glob of it lands near his shoe, making him jump again. You almost pity how weak he is enough to torture a woman for a living. Almost.

“You’re gonna be sorry you did that.” He bites back. Phil glances at the mirror and for the first time in hours, you let yourself feel a lick of fear. You’re pretty sure you know who his boss is, someone too violent for the games you’re playing. “You’re pathetic, you know that?” Is what you can muster. Instead of answering, he shakes off his shoe and knocks on the door. When it opens, there’s a person in full PPE, holding a metal tray with a filled syringe. You jolt back, but the chair is bolted to the ground and doesn’t allow you to move.

“Wait, please, Phil-” He’s fast, shooting something into your arm. Everything goes dark after that.

-

Gaz was right. It only took an hour. 

But it takes longer than that to rule out each location. It’s been 24 hours, and they haven’t found you yet.

John insists on checking out every place by himself, as does Ghost. They’re even-keeled enough to split up to make it go faster but insist on Gaz scrounging up more earpieces so they can keep in constant contact. They slept in shifts too, six-hour blocks once it hit midnight, so they weren’t trudging through their search. Johnny stays back to work with the engineers on testing the security system he designed, while Gaz comes along with whoever is searching. The four of them stay on their own radio channel like a task force, acting more military than mafia. 

They start from the inner city and expand outwards. It’s methodical. It’s calculated. It’s the exact strategy Gaz planned months ago when the marriage was proposed. He’s the clearest headed out of all of them but there’s still a bite to his tone, a tension in his shoulders, a furrow in his brow. If John wasn’t so out of it himself, he’d be glad that his right-hand man seems to care for his wife. 

They sweep warehouses top to bottom. John tugs on every alliance he has, every favor owed. They get pledges of loyalty from smaller gangs, who do their own searches as well. It’s so much and yet not enough because John Price does not have his fucking wife in his hands. Your shampoo scent is not in his nose, your laughter is not in his ears, your waist is not in his grasp. You are gone and he is at fault for not protecting you.

“Focus, Price.” They’ve both slept and are now in their third church in the past 90 minutes. It’s abandoned like the rest of them, creaking doors and blown out windows. They’ve gotten into a rhythm now, sweeping the building efficiently. You’re not there. They finish in twenty minutes, Gaz outside on the phone with the rest of the crew. When they emerge, he stands tall at attention. 

“Sir, we’ve got a hit.”

-

“How you feeling, hun?” The world is woozy, half-tilt on a rollercoaster. You sway from right to left, only steadying when firm hands grasp your shoulders. Your eyes flutter, vision blurring in technicolor. You’re somewhere else, with paintings on the walls and carpet on the floors. That’s when you do a body scan and realize you’re not in the clothes you were kidnapped in.

You jerk away from the man touching you. The wooden chair you’re strapped to falls to the floor and takes you with it. He tries to pick you up, moving in a blur of dark grey, but you thrash away like a fish out of water. His touch is poison, and you fear it was him who undressed you, him who saw you naked against your will. “Get away from me!” You screech, vocal cords sore from disuse. The man’s hands are gnarled crooked things, clawing at your shoulders until your chair is straight again. You try to flinch but your miniscule reactions are still slurry from whatever you were injected with. Once you’re straight, you bite back a gasp.

It’s him. The General. Shepherd. 

Square face with a buzzcut. Weathered and old with a cruel gleam in his eye. He sits back down into a chair in front of yours. This one is red leather, squeaking comfortably with weight as he sits down. The man was in the army in a past life, hence the styling of The General. He wears dark slacks and an army-like jacket. The bravado of it disgusts you. A title like that should be earned, not worn like play clothes. You put on your brave face and sneer at him, a cat backed into an alley.

“I see why John likes you.” He looks you up and down like he can see through your clothes. You flinch against your will. “You don’t deserve to say his name.” You bite. He laughs jarringly. “Fucking brat is what you are. Even got Phil under your spell.” That’s news to you. It’s certainly at odds with his behavior. You don’t react, easing your features into a smooth mask.

“I don’t know why I’m here. I don’t have the codes.” He stares at you dead-eyed. “Not necessary. We don’t need the codes.” He’s bluffing. You’re willing to bet your life on the hard work of Johnny and Gaz. There’s absolutely no way, no workaround. That’s when you get an idea.

“Oh yeah? You’re just going to put me in front of the eye scanner and go from there?” He frowns like you’ve figured out his plan. You almost laugh. “Too bad. You’re still missing a step.” That reels him in. Shepherd sits forward, elbows on his knees, searching your gaze for a lie. You raise your brows defiantly. “What, don’t tell me you haven’t figured it out?” He squints harder at your words. 

“My brother’s old school. Doesn’t trust technology, or anybody else.” It’s certainly true. Simon’s well-known for not trusting people. Even the General looks intrigued. “What are you sayin’?” He murmurs. It’s like you’re holding a prophecy in his hands. Men are so easy.

“There’s a key.” He scoffs and looks away. “And I’m Robin Hood.” You shrug, leaning back as much as you can into your chair despite the ropes tying you to it. “Believe what you want. I’m just saying, my brother has more checks than you can imagine.” Another truth to reel him in. He scratches an invisible itch on his knee, then gets up. He pulls something from his pocket, and you flinch, thinking it’s a gun. He laughs at your reaction. “Fucking brat.” He murmurs. Shepherd turns to the corner of the room and calls someone, talking in low tones.

When you examine the room, it sends a shot to your heart. You’re in a church. There’s blood red carpeting with paintings everywhere, but it’s not wellkept. There’s dust and no windows, the lighting frail. Perhaps recently abandoned?

Shepherd is back, knife in hand. He thrives on watching you flinch and thrash as he comes closer. You stop when he’s in your face, knife trailing down the length of your nose. “Where’s the key?” You answer without hesitation. “My father’s grave.” It’s the kind of sick shit Ghost would do, and Shepherd knows it. That’s when the knife slips through your ropes, freeing you. There’s a gun in his other hand pointed straight at your head. “You’ll take me to the key. And if it’s not there, so help me God, I’m blowing your brains out on your father’s grave.” You nod, short and shallow.

It’s only halfway up the dilapidated wooden stairs when you hear it. Pounding footsteps and a low British tone. Shepherd was stupid enough to trail behind you, and even stupider to stop at the noises as well. That’s when your years of self-defense classes with Johnny kick in, quite literally. 

You aim a kick to his head. He dodges, of course, but all that body mass has to go somewhere, and quite slowly. It knocks him off balance, a half-step down, giving you enough leverage to elbow the nose. One of the most sensitive places on a man, as Johnny told you. The door above you opens as Shepherd gets one more insult in as he goes down.

“Fuckin’ bastard.”

-

Yes i was thinking of the 21 savage song snitches and rats

Also sorry for comparing motherhood to torture i just really needed to justify reader peeing LOL

Oops shes a girlboss SORRYYYYYY

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

@mismatchsposts

@nova-willow-541

@throwing-up-butterflies

@grossitsluca

@evans-dejong

@popcornlauncher

@earthcole

@backfromthedeadhehehe

@baduzzxy

@thegreyjoyed

@cutelibrariangf

@dearghostling

@mrsmalfoy1005

@all-by-myself98

@snburntandsad

@baklovers

@rmikaelson01

@leon-thot-kennedy

@the-gods-gloted-but-they-burned

@barcelonaaababe

@brokenandemptyhearts

@sleep101

@ontopofthefridge

@lilynotdilly

@teenagellamaangel

@harperdoodle

@ii-angelsrolltheireyes-ii

@violetisheresworld

@lolwey

@polyfandom-blogs 

@burrowedinnature77

@sharkerino

@ashy-kit

@aikojwhpa

@thriving-n-jiving

@krispymagazinepizza-blog

@grayskel

@rpgsandstuff

@hisuccubus

@lumi-kalyke

@gimmeabreak1

[omgfangirlland]

The Shadows That Nurture 11

Ch 12 is done and I'm kinda foaming at the mouth to give it to y'all- but I need to wait to finish ch 13-

Enjoy!

Masterlist || First || previous<< Chapter 11 >>next

Finding The Immortal was harder than expected but you weren’t surprised. Cecil worked The Guardians to the bone, you were sure. Nevertheless, you found him in the end, quickly flying next to him to greet him.

Surprised, the man looked at you before giving a small, weary smile while greeting you back. “This may sound crazy and like I’m digging into your life, and I understand if you don’t wish to speak about it, but I really need-“ You stopped as soon as he grabbed your shoulders, making you both stop midair and face each other. “It’s okay, take a breath.”

“See- that’s the thing! I don’t need to breathe, I don’t need to eat, I can’t die because I’m immortal like you due to magic and I need to talk to someone who gets it because this past week I feel everyone’s been acting crazy and it’s making me feel crazy- And- and I’ve lost you.” You looked at the shocked man. “You’re immortal?...”

“Yep.” You nod. “… Long story?” The Immortal asks slowly, getting the same response in return. His beeper goes off and without even looking at it he turns it off. “That may have been important.” You pointed it out, but he just chuckled and smiled. “This is important too. I’m sure the others can do well without me for a bit. Now, how about we talk over some food? I know this little family dinner in Las Vegas.” You relaxed, nodding at his suggestion.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

“- and then he just tells me to be careful around certain magical weapons because they might hurt me- Like dude, you told me I’m immortal, taught me a bit of magic, and then dipped telling me to see him in a week at the same spot- he could have at least given me a way to contact him after telling me that something might kill me!” You sigh and take a bite of your burger and fries. “You were right, by the way, this is a great spot.”

Immortal chuckles at your complaint. “At least there is someone who is helping.” He furrowed his brows as he also ate bits of his steak. “Or is trying. I had a mental breakdown the first time I realized that I’m not aging and keep defying death.”

“Two days after I had a panic attack thinking about how everyone I love will eventually die, even Nolan and Mark- sure it’ll take a few centuries but that’s still nothing to immortality! The old bastard has been acting weird since I told them too, and Luthor keeps annoying me about his blasted party- which I’m like 90% sure is a front for my birthday- and today I’m supposed to meet the British bastard, but before I have to visit someone else-”

“Breathe, it’ll be fine, you’ll live.” The ancient man tried to reassure you with a small joke about the situation. “I can’t give much advice about this- your immortality seems very different from mine, and to be honest, I never actively think about it considering how sensible of a subject it is. Especially the ‘how many people will pass right by you’ topic. It’s…”

“Terrifying?” He sighs and nods at the completion. “It’s nice to know I’m not alone anymore, and that you thought I’d be the best person to talk about it with.” He plays with his food. “Therapists say that it’s good to talk about your feelings, right? I think it will be great for us both to talk openly about it- I don’t have a phone, but I do hang by the hero memorial stone every other Sunday- if, you know-“

“I’d love that, thank you Immortal…Abraham? Have you chosen a new name?” As your soft smile turned to a confused look the man only laughed, assuring you to call him whatever. Perhaps after that many years, names do lose their importance, or maybe it was the fact that he never had one when he was born in the Stone Age that could be translated to New World speech. “The honey pancakes are to die for, by the way.” His choice of words makes you snort with amusement.

“…You and Lex Luthor are friends?” He asks, a mix of confusion and surprise filling his tone. You just give a long sigh. “Friends is such a strong word…”

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

You waited patiently in front of the manor’s front entrance, smiling once the doors opened, immediately being greeted by the butler. “I’ll never hear you call me by my first name, will I Sanford?” You teased the older man as he led you through the halls. “I fear not, ma’am.” He smiled as he bowed, leaving you once you walked by him, getting closer to Samson.

You set the little box of treats on the accent table in between the two armchairs as you took your place across Samson while you both greeted each other. “How have you been? How’s that suit going?” Your soft-spoken questions are met with a defeated sigh and a shrug. “It’ll take two more days.”

“You know… You don’t need the suit or powers to do some good. Let me finish, please-” You quickly interrupted. These men were always so quick to jump the gun. “You’re rotting here. I’m not telling you to drop the suit but in these two days, you could go see the outside. It won’t kill you. There is this kid, Adam. He is staying at the hospital I volunteer at and he’s quite a big fan of Black Samson-“

“He’d be disappointed to see me-“ You swiftly but gently tapped his foot. “He’s one of the kids you saved when you lost your powers, Sam. He saw you lose your powers and still hold up kilograms of ruble just so he could have a chance at escape. That boy admires you now more than ever. You need to face things and it’ll be better for you if you do it before you feel like you’re worthy again just because you’ve got powers again.”

“That’s harsh, kid.” Samson almost pouted. “Learned from the best.” You shrug and he smiles. A moment of silence passes between you two before he finally asks where the hospital is.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

John was on his tenth cigarette, he was showing great restraint, really. He knew he made a mistake in asking Zatanna for help, but he seemed unable to do the opposite lately. They both had been arguing for an hour, Constantine knew that the girl would take to Zee like a cat to catnip, but this was making him regret letting Zatanna know more beyond a magical kid needs help. “I’m just saying- maybe Batman should know, she’s his kid-“

“The numpty has been locking her up in his mansion and ignoring her for years, her daft siblings too. The rogues had to raise and give her the attention Bruce wasn’t willing to.” He scratched at his chin before taking another puff.

“Maybe Bruce-“ John didn’t let her finish. “Don’t. Don’t you dare finish that, Zee. She’s just a kid- a kid who ran away because she thought Batman would kill her. Between the two of us, you should know better. You’re giving him too much grace.”

“Are you two mind reading or just mean mugging each other? Sorry for being late, by the way. Was finishing my project and lost track of time.” Your voice broke the two from their argument.  Zatanna looked at John with a raised eyebrow. “She doesn’t look like the little kid you described.” John clears his throat, brushing off the comment on his manipulation before he introduces the two. “I thought it would be good to expose you to different kinds of magic-“

“You’re ditching me.” John choked on his words as you crossed your arms, quickly denying the accusation. “- It’s just- I- Zatanna is a great Elemental mage, I thought you’d like to learn more about Umbrakinesis-“ Zatanna, at John’s rambling and pleading look, stepped forward. “It’s nice to finally meet you, John spoke highly of you.”

You gave her a gentle smile as you came closer and landed in front of her. “I doubt that, though, it’s nice to meet you too. Love your shows.” Your eyes moved to Constantine. “So, you two are going to teach me how to manipulate shadows? Can I learn the other elements and the mind-reading thingy you both were doing?”

“Telepathy, love.” John sighs as you give him a blank stare and double down. “Mind-reading thingy.” Zatanna chuckles softly at the look of pure defeat on John’s face.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

Dinner was quiet. For the past week it’s been awkward, especially as Nolan kept missing dinners and breakfasts, and seemingly avoiding you and Mark specifically. “So… how has your day been?” Debbie asks, trying to lighten the mood.

“Amber and I got together, like- for real. And I mostly dealt with small stuff today. Robberies, Elephant Man, three times, the sort… Did dad text or- call, at least?” Mark mumbles, tired and slightly sore. Debbie shook her head. “No, but I’m sure he’s fine.”

You shrug once all eyes are on you. “Talked to Immortal about- you know. Also trained my magic some more and found out some elemental magic just hates me. Water tried to drown me…” You glared at the glass as you spoke, getting up with a groan after you finished half of the food. “My everything hurts. I’ll go sleep, thanks for the meal mama.”

“Aren’t you going to wait for dad?” Debbie asks softly, trying to hide her worry. You just shake your head and take your plate to trash the remains and put it in the sink. “Nah. He wants to act like the sperm donor, he’s going to get treated as such. Besides, gotta check up with my friends in Gotham. Good night.” You waved her off, not noticing Mark’s brows furrowing.

✩₊˚.⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧

While Hal was gaging as he encased the mangled body of The Joker, calling for the Watchtower to notify Batman that Joker had been found, Red Hood and the Sirens were celebrating, well- Jason and Harley were.

“Batman is going to be angry.” Pamela sighs in her wine glass. “Batman? Angry? Why, he’d never.” Selina joked, laughing before sipping on her own wine glass. “He’ll bust a vein when he finds out it was our little hero who did it.” Selina’s eyes catch Jason’s figure as he tries to climb onto her coffee table. “Wait- No! It’s-“ She and Pam cringe as the table wrecks to the side, the man’s body making a loud thud as he kisses the ground.

“Broken.” Catwoman sighs. “You good kid?” Ivy asks, almost being drowned by Harley's hysterical laughing. “I’m amazing! Best day of my life!” He slurs, giving two thumbs up before dropping his hands and groaning. “B-man is going to be so mad.”

Tag list: @bat1212 @trashlanternfish360 @shycreatorreview @syrooo @a-lurking-fae @alittletiredcry @kittzu @plsfckmedxddy @blackhood1229 @nxdxsworld @leeiasure @dandelion-delusion @lovebug-apple @sillysealsies @tsxukikami @enchantingarcadecreation @alishii @d3nnji @itsberrydreemurstuff @yuyuzi-ling @welpthisisboring @1abi @mxvoid26 @persephone-kore-law @bluevenus19 @ryuushou

[leashybebes]

fic: blue and gold (11/28)

@bucktommyfluffebruary day 11 prompt is double date and my fill is here

calling this part one of three of a micro arc in the overall fic. i'm excited. do i need to raise the rating purely on account of sal's mouth?

tumblr version below

"You look nervous," Evan says as their Uber pulls into a parking spot outside of the restaurant. "Why do you look nervous?"

"I'm not nervous," Tommy lies automatically. "Okay, no. Sal can be…a lot."

"Yeah? You sure it's not just that he's known you longer than anyone you still speak to?"

Smartass, Tommy thinks fondly, but he's not wrong. "Hey, now. I speak to my mom."

Evan rolls his eyes and hops out of the car, straightening his shirt. For all that he's giving Tommy shit about being nervous, he has the look of a man who's changed his outfit several times before settling on the dark slacks and the nicely fitting dark denim shirt. Tommy's weirdly touched that he put so much effort into dinner with Tommy's asshole best friend and his asshole best friend's actual angel in human form of a wife.

Sal and Gina are already inside, a bottle of wine on the table between them and missing at least a couple of glasses.

"They go hard on nights without the kids," Tommy tells Evan as they walk over to join Sal and Gina, who are already standing to greet them.

"Tommy!" Gina claims him first in a hug, before she hands him off to Sal who punches him in the shoulder. "And the mysterious Evan."

"Mysterious, huh?" Evan asks, shooting Tommy a look.

"Just been trying to protect you from Sal," Tommy jokes. "And unfortunately that means depriving you of Gina."

Evan laughs. "Call me Buck," he says, kissing Gina's cheek and shaking Sal's hand. In the split second that leaves them, Gina shoots Tommy a wide eyed look and a double thumbs up. Tommy bites his tongue and pulls Gina into another hug.

"So much hotter than the last one," she hisses into his ear.

"Yep," Tommy agrees happily.

"Don't listen to this asshole," Sal is saying, pulling Evan into a seat. "Whatever he told you is bullshit, we're fuckin' delightful."

"I've only heard good things," Evan says, adding after a miniscule pause, "About Gina."

Oh, this is going to be fine, Tommy thinks to himself.

Two hours later, they're finishing their third bottle of wine, and Tommy's regretting everything. Evan and Gina are falling all over themselves laughing at Sal's dramatic reenactment of Tommy's top ten humiliating probie moments.

"Come on," Tommy protests. "You've heard all these stories before," he says, pointing at Gina. "And you're supposed to be on my side," pointing at Evan.

"Yeah but babe - babe," Evan protests, wiping his eyes. "You had mud in your ears."

"Pal, he had mud in worse places than that," Sal promises.

"Oh my god," Tommy grumbles and helps himself to the last of the wine. As Evan pitches sideways to muffle laughter in Sal's shoulder Tommy lifts his glass to his mouth and pretends he's drinking out of irritation rather than to hide the smile he can't hold back as these two parts of his life fit together with an almost audible click.

[maybejj]

The Beginning of Us Part 4

babydaddy!rafe x sweetheart!reader

masterlist

warnings: mentions of child abuse

summary: You and Rafe were high school sweethearts that continued into college however Rafe went down the wrong path and you found out you were pregnant. 4 years later finds you and Rafe trying to navigate co-parenting your 3 year old son while overcoming life’s obstacles and past experiences.

word count: 2.5k

You sent a tired smile in your son’s direction as you watched Asher play with his tractors on the kitchen table. He had refused to eat dinner unless he could bring his tractors with him. You had said no at first because the kitchen table wasn’t a place to play, especially when you and Rafe were eating dinner but Asher had been grumpy all day, fighting you on everything you asked him to do so you gave in. Had Rafe been there when it happened, he would have taken your side and Asher would be frowning in the seat he currently sat in. But Rafe wasn’t there. Because you two didn’t live together.

One of the cons of co-parenting, you thought bitterly. He had only shown up 30 minutes ago for dinner. Some meeting he had ran later than he expected. As usual. But he had promised Asher he would come for dinner and if that man makes a promise to his son, he always kept it. It was something that made your eyes tear up if you thought too much about it because you knew Rafe could be a cold hearted, stern, unforgiving man until his son was involved. Then he would bend over backwards, reschedule or even leave meetings just to make sure Asher was taken care of. Nothing was keeping him away from his son.

“You gotta eat your dinner buddy. Put the tractors down. You can play after you’ve eaten a few bites,” Rafe sent a look Asher’s way. He was using his dad voice and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t do something to you. His deep voice sending shivers down your arms, settling somewhere deep in your chest close to where your heart was. When Rafe took that tone, Asher always listened.

“Okay daddy.”

Asher clumsily picked up his fork and started scooping his mac and cheese. He was making a mess and proceeded to get it all over his mouth but he was eating his dinner, finally. You’d take a win where you could. He would take a bath after dinner anyways.

“So I’ve been meaning to ask you something,” Rafe cleared his throat, looking up from his plate to glance at you across the table.

“What’s that?” You furrowed your eyebrows. Rafe was shuffling in his seat, scratching the back of his neck. He seemed nervous which was out of character for him which in turn made you start overthinking. He only got like this when he was about to bring up a topic you wouldn’t like.

Rafe looked to his left, making sure Asher was somewhat preoccupied with his dinner and tractors before looking back at you, “There’s this charity ball our company is throwing next month. Suppose to be a big event, raise money for a charity of our choosing, that kind of thing,” Rafe stopped for a moment, took a deep breath, and continued, “I was wondering if you wanted to go with me.”

You were bringing the fork to your mouth for another bite as the words left his mouth and the shock of what he said made you unconsciously drop your fork. It landed with a loud clattering sound against the table before bouncing off and hitting the ground. The sound got your son’s attention and he looked your way with a wide eyed expression.

“Mommy, you made a mess!”

You felt stuck. You couldn’t move, couldn’t acknowledge your son speaking to you, couldn’t look Rafe in the eyes, couldn’t do anything but think about what he said.

He wanted you to go with him to this charity ball his work was throwing which meant dressing up and showing face in front of everyone he worked with. Or rather, that worked for him. He was the CEO after all.

But you weren’t together. You just co-parented with him which worked for you and you got no complaints from him about it. It wasn’t perfect by any means but it was what worked for your family. You got along great after Rafe cleaned up his act once Asher was born but you never got back together. It was too difficult to think about a relationship when Asher was a newborn and Rafe was dealing with sobriety. Instead, you both settled into this routine of taking care of Asher and raising him. That’s all your life revolved around anymore.

“You have to clean up your mess, Mommy. I’ll sing the clean up song for you!” Asher was unaware of the silent crisis you were having as you tried to get your brain to catch up to the current moment and do something.

You were vaguely aware of Asher signing ‘clean up, clean up’ over and over as he attempted to clean up the mess on the floor but you felt frozen. Going to a charity ball with Rafe would certainly give everyone the impression that you were back together and you didn’t know if you were ready for that life. It was also an event that didn’t extend the invite to little children. That thought alone broke you out of your trance.

“No one would be able to watch Asher,” You finally made eye contact with Rafe.

Rafe visibly let out a breath, like he was expecting a different response from you, “I already asked Sarah. She said she wouldn’t mind staying the night with him just in case we came back late.”

“Aunt Sarah?!” Out of the corner of your eye you saw Asher stop cleaning and his singing stopped abruptly.

You winced. He loved his Aunt Sarah and it had been awhile since he spent time with her. You just don’t know if you could leave him alone after what he went through.

“Yeah buddy, how’s a sleepover with Sarah sound?”

“Wait a second, Rafe. I didn’t say I would go,” You frowned. He was assuming you would go and in turn getting your son excited for no reason. You weren’t sure you wanted to go to a charity ball with Rafe and you damn sure weren’t thrilled about having Asher out of your sight.

“Why wouldn’t you? We’ve got someone to watch Asher. It’ll be fun,” Rafe said, smiling gently at you.

You had no doubt it would be fun. His company was known for throwing big parties and supporting a lot of the local charities. They always went above and beyond. The parties were extravagant and the talk of the town. All the food and wine was imported. Everyone who was someone attended.

“There’s just a lot to think about. It’s not as simple as you make it seem,” You stood from your seat at the table and squatted beside your son to wipe down the floor.

“How is it not simple?” Rafe scoffed. He was shaking his head as he pushed his food around on his plate with his fork. He was getting frustrated by your lack of giving in so easily.

“You know why. Going to a party like that is a big deal. People will talk,” You send him a look over Asher’s head.

“Mommy I talk!” Asher poked your arm as he grinned at you.

Despite the rising tension in the kitchen, you smiled at him, “Yes baby, you do. Why don’t you go play with your tractors in your room before bath time?”

“Okay!” He quickly grabbed his toys off the table and zoomed down the hallway to his room.

With Asher out of the room, you stood and grabbed the plates from the table, dinner long abandoned. You walked over to the sink to set the dirty dishes down gently before turning back to Rafe. You leant against the countertops and crossed your arms against your chest.

“I just don’t think it’s a good idea for me to go with you.”

“But why? Give me one good reason.” Rafe stood from the table now, walking closer to you. He stopped a couple feet in front of you, not wanting to overcrowd you. His eyebrows were furrowed and he looked annoyed.

“For starters, Asher will be left alone-“

“He won’t be left alone, Sarah is going to watch him.” Rafe cut you off, raising both of his eyebrows as he looked pointedly at you.

He was right. You knew Asher wouldn’t truly be alone but in your mind, if you or Rafe weren’t with him he might as well be.

It had been 6 months since Asher was physically abused by the person who use to watch him during the day while you went to work. He was doing so much better since it happened but you found yourself frozen in time and unwilling to move on. It was hard to when all you could picture was Asher in the hospital. You still had nightmares about it. You just wanted to protect him at every waking moment and you couldn’t do that if he wasn’t right beside you.

“Rafe, I just think it’s best if I stayed with-“

Rafe groaned cutting you off once again. He drug his hands over his face and leaned his head back to face the ceiling, collecting his thoughts. He stayed that way for a couple of seconds until he tilted his head forward to look at you again. His face softened as he saw your wide, teary eyes and he knew this ran deeper than just going to some stupid charity ball with him. He knew that wasn’t the main concern.

Rafe took a calculated deep breath and started walking to you, speaking softly, “I know you have a hard time leaving him with someone else since it happened but he’s better now. His therapist even said he’s making good progress,” Rafe raised one of his hands towards the hallway, pointing to Asher’s room, “You can’t keep hovering over him waiting for something bad to happen. You need to live your life too. I want what’s best for both of you. You know I would never put him in harms way and leave him with someone I don’t trust. Sarah loves him and she would do anything to make sure he was taken care of,” He was speaking so quietly now, like he was scared to run you off.

You squeezed your eyes closed. You were trying not to let the tears fall. You knew he was right, you needed to live your life but Asher was your life. He represented everything that was good in your life. Your heart clenched at the thought of leaving him alone for more than a second.

As you started to breath heavier and faster, you felt Rafe’s hands hovering over your shoulders. You could sense his hesitation until you opened your eyes and found him standing right in front of you.

His hands finally made contact with your shoulders and he gave them a gentle squeeze before letting them trail down your arms. The faint touch of his fingertips as he drifted down to your hands had you relaxing into his touch. You didn’t even realize how tensed up you had been.

Rafe’s fingers threaded through yours and you felt a light blush rising on your cheeks. It had been a long time since you were so close to him. It was an unspoken rule that you weren’t intimate in any way with each other, scared it would lead to something else but you allowed yourself this one moment with him.

You would be lying if you said you weren’t losing yourself in his comfort.

“Come with me baby,” Rafe softly whispered. He was so close you could feel his breath on your cheeks.

At the mention of the nickname you hadn’t heard in years, you let out a soft breath of surprise. He was making you feel emotions you had pushed deep down for years. He was your first kiss, first love, first everything. He was the father of your child. He was in your life daily and when he was holding your hands while calling you baby and pleading with you to go with him to some party for work it was hard to say no.

You found yourself nodding, unable to speak. You were so entranced by him and his warmth. The simple gesture of him being so close to you was calming you down and making you lean into him. Your forehead gently rested against his chest where you could hear his heart beat. It was beating at a faster rate than what you considered normal which had you smiling softly.

You glanced up at him and saw his face was already angled down in your direction. Your nose briefly brushed against his and warning bells were going off in your head to back away before this went too far but you couldn’t care to listen to them.

His blue eyes were staring right into your own, holding your captive. You held your breath, physically holding yourself back from leaning up and closing the distance. Rafe seemed to be debating with himself as he searched your eyes. It felt like time stopped as he finally came to a decision. Just as you thought you saw him start to lean down, you heard a gasp from the hallway.

You both untangled yourself from the other quickly, Rafe dropping your hands as you stepped back from his chest and put some distance between the two of you. Your eyes found your son standing in the hallway with his Spider-Man toy in one hand and his favorite tractor in the other.

“Are mommy and daddy kissing?!”

“No!” You and Rafe said simultaneously. You started shaking your head while Rafe cleared his throat.

Asher looked very confused as he looked between his mother and father.

“It’s getting closer to bed baby. Let’s go get ready for bath time,” You stepped forward, trying to change the topic and get out of the kitchen where the atmosphere still felt charged from the earlier interaction.

Asher instantly groaned and let out a whine, stomping his little foot against the ground, “I don’t wanna go to bed.”

Before you could say anything to tame his oncoming temper tantrum, you heard Rafe speak behind you.

“Don’t give your mom an attitude. You know better. Now listen to what she said and go get ready for your bath.”

Asher’s head instantly dropped to his chest as he turned and slowly walked toward the bathroom across from his room. It was disheartening to see him so upset but you were grateful Rafe stepped in. You found yourself growing tired with each passing second and weren’t sure if you could handle one of Asher’s temper tantrums right now.

You turned toward Rafe and mouthed a ‘thank you’ as you followed Asher down the hallway. Rafe nodded in your direction and you saw him busy himself with cleaning the rest of the table off as you stepped into the bathroom.

As you turned the faucet on to get the water warm enough for your son, the realization of what you agreed to finally hit you.

You would be attending the most anticipated party of the year as Rafe’s date. It would also be the first time in years you and Rafe did something together without Asher tagging along.

You swallowed thickly. You could do this.

Right?

taglist: @bee-43 @lillell467 @marleymarleymarleymarley

[100vern]

how to cancel your faustian bargain | wjh ✦ TEASER

FAUSTIAN BARGAIN 🔥 a pact whereby a person trades something of supreme moral or spiritual importance, such as personal values or the soul, for some worldly or material benefit, such as knowledge, power, or riches. faustian bargains are by their nature tragic or self-defeating for the person who makes them, because what is surrendered is ultimately far more valuable than what is obtained.

▏pairing: attorney!junhui x devil!reader ▏genre: enemies to lovers, lawyer au; crack, fluff, smut ▏summary: as the devil, you’re more than happy to grant favors in exchange for someone’s soul, and you’re known for having the most iron-clad contracts around. which is why wen junhui—the scene’s newest contract attorney hell-bent on returning all those souls you’ve acquired—is really starting to piss you off. ▏teaser rating: mature. however, the full fic will be explicit, and i ask that no minors interact with this or any of my work. ▏teaser warnings: member pov, reader is thee devil so needless to say there is a bunch of religious themes and topics here (as a person whose roman-catholic grandfather temporarily disowned her for stopping ccd classes i am qualified to write this dw), jihan as literal devil's advocates, swearing, mentions of a handjob. ▏teaser wordcount: 1.3k ▏release date: 25th february (tentative) ▏note: this will be apart of the don't hate, litigate! collab, hosted by my beloved @haologram. thank you so much for all your hard work and letting me participate! i have had so much fun writing this and am finally feeling like myself again. current wordcount is sitting at 7k, but i'm anticipating the full fic to double that, if not go over by a bit.

The thing is, Wen Junhui is not really supposed to be here.

Not, like, literally here—sitting across from you, the literal devil, at your desk, ass burning a little because it’s really hot here and he is, admittedly, not used to the heat—but metaphorically. Big picture-ly. This is not how I envisioned my life turning out…ly.

The thing is, Wen Junhui barely made it through law school. Barely passed his licensing exam. Watched his classmates score prestigious internships and receive exclusive offers and network and schmooze and, he thought at the time, all but sell their soul to graduate with jaw-dropping salaries awaiting them and no debt.

And it fucking sucked watching that, because he was about to become a lawyer, sure, but he’d gotten scarlet fever as a kid, swore he was going to die, swore he saw not only the light but Jesus himself (his mother called this a delusion, still insists to this day the prodigal son did not travel all the way to Shenzhen to visit him), and decided if he survived he was going to dedicate his life to the church and become a priest.

(He only decided on law school after he got a little carried away with his high school girlfriend, received an honestly mid handjob that had him crying for three straight days and contemplating confession before he decided to take it to his grave, and he’d announced the next night at dinner, weighed down by an impressive amount of guilt and religious trauma, that he was just going to go to university and major in business or finance instead.)

Anyway. Turns out that whole selling their soul thing wasn’t a joke, and where others would’ve seen a loophole, Wen Junhui had seen an opportunity.

Because he didn’t have the grades. Didn’t have the family name or even the drive, because in another life he’s at least a deacon, so he had to do something. Had to think outside the box, get a little creative, carve out a niche for himself that none of his classmates would also be trying to occupy because he had student loans.

“How did you even get in here?” you ask, doing one of those really cool pen flips Jun has never figured out how to do. “A human hasn’t just strolled into my office in at least a millennia.”

Jun swallows, tries not to let show how nervous he is. “I, uh—I’m not sure? I sort of just… walked in, I guess.”

You blink. Study him for a while, eyes narrowed, before you make a small ah! sound and snap your fingers. What the heck? Jun can’t do that, either. “I know who you are now.”

“You do?”

“Mmhm, sure do. You were pretty famous around here for about thirteen seconds when you got that handjob and changed the trajectory of your own life forever. Some of the lower demons had bet money on you eventually becoming the Pope, so you can imagine their heartbreak—and the amount of coin they lost.” You click your tongue, return your attention to the scroll in front of you. “I kept telling them not to bet on that kind of stuff. Teenagers are wildly unpredictable, especially hormonal teenage boys. One of my finest creations, if I do say so myself.”

Not that he had any expectation of privacy here, but to say he’s mortified would be an understatement.

“Oh. That’s… really embarrassing.”

You nod, distracted as you press a large red button on your desk. “Yeah, I imagine for you it would be.”

Two men immediately materialize on each side of you. One is all cheekbones and sharp, calculating edges. Looks like the personification of mischief or perhaps temptation. After that handjob and the subsequent mourning period, Jun had come to really, really appreciate women, but he’s secure enough in his sexuality to acknowledge that the man in front of him—with his long, dark hair and lithe figure; his nonchalant, blasé attitude—is very attractive.

And the other one is no slouch, either. Has what Jun presumes is meant to be a friendlier disposition, a foil of the other man, good-cop-bad-cop, and they must be quite successful, he figures. Can’t imagine a world in which there’s anything that’d be denied to either of them.

Still, they’re well-acquainted with you, because they barely blink as you say, “Please say hello to our intruder,” with a frightening amount of bite.

The dark-haired one offers up a sleazy grin as he leans back against the wall. “Hello, intruder. Do you have a name?”

It’s a predictable question, and yet Jun still startles. Goes slack-jawed as he fixes his posture, sits straighter in his seat. Has the first syllable of his name sitting on the tip of his tongue when the other man sighs and gestures for Jun to stay quiet. “Don’t tell him your name. Better yet, don’t tell him anything, just pretend he doesn’t exist.”

“That’s rich coming from a person who chose to call themselves Joshua.”

Joshua pouts. “I thought there was something to be said for the irony.” A snort tumbles out of him, and Jun realizes that he is not the foil of the other man: he is, in fact, just as impish and rogue. “God is deliverance.” The dark-haired one does not react. “Aw, c’mon, it’s funny!”

“If you have to convince someone it’s funny, it probably is not so.”

Joshua rolls his eyes. “Alright, Jeonghan. As if you didn’t do the same thing.”

“At least when I strive to be ironic, it actually is humorous—”

With an exasperated sigh, you return your attention to Jun, who has suddenly found a fascinating piece of lint on his trousers. Pointedly does not make eye contact with you, because you had been intimidating and hellacious on your own, but he’s extremely out of his element sitting across from the literal devil and two demons.

“So, Wen Junhui,” you say, tossing a pair of reading glasses onto your desk, “why are you here?”

(“Wen Junhui?” Joshua whispers to Jeonghan. “As in the Wen Junhui that got the handjob?”

“How the fuck am I supposed to know?” Jeonghan whispers back.)

And now it all feels a bit silly, because Jun had walked straight into hell thinking he’d be able to… what, exactly? Strike up a friendly conversation? Start making demands? Cut a deal that didn’t include handing over his mortal soul?

Maybe the whole becoming a priest thing hadn’t worked out but he’d still learned a thing or two, and he remembers all the words used to describe you, your original purpose. Meant to reflect God’s glory, anointed, given the highest seat at the table. They’d blamed your downfall on pride, on vanity and violence, and Wen Junhui from Shenzhen, China, who once had scarlet fever and got a bad handjob, was a fool to come here and think he could go toe-to-toe with you.

Overcome with nerves, all he can do is laugh as he toys with the hair at the nape of his neck. Considers saying something like you’re gonna think this is so silly before he decides against it. You’ve been accused of having a sense of humor, but Jun can’t imagine his harebrained scheme would make the cut.

Still—he wouldn’t be where he is if the bad ideas sitting on his shoulder had kept quiet, and they’re still whispering to him now, reminding him how he wound up here to begin with: less fortunate than his classmates, less connected, looked over for all those internships and opportunities because he wasn’t born with the proper credentials. Those god-forsaken student loans. Desperation forced him to do this, and it’d be a real shame if he got this far only to give up at the last second, wouldn’t it?

So, he does what he did best all those years of law school: he fakes it.

“Let’s say I’m interested in… a partnership, of sorts.”

Jeonghan and Joshua share a look.

“Ah,” you reply, hands folded in front of you. “And what kind of partnership would that be?”

[darklove9314-blog]

Sorry is the Hardest Word: A Nessian Fanfic

Welcome to day 3 of SJM romance week, prompt: First “I Love you”.

Synopsis: This story contains spoilers for HOFAS: proceed with caution. After the events of HOFAS, Cassian gives Nesta an explanation for his anger.

Nesta shoveled the food that Cassian had made them for dinner on her plate, her appetite near nonexistent as the silence and tension could be felt between her and Cassian. The feel of it damn near sufficienting as he concentrated on his own plate, his jaw still clenched in that anger from the discussion she, Rhys, Feyre and himself had had. Where even he had snapped at her about her reckless discussion. Feyre had been the only one to fight for her and the only one to get Rhys to back off until they were back at The House of Wind.

Ember and Randall exchanged a brief glance with one another, a silent conversation playing out between the two of them as Ember rose from her chair, gathering her and Randall’s empty dishes as Cassian’s eyes flickered up to her in response.

"I think we'll turn in for the night. Thank you for dinner." She said to Cassian as Ember squeezed Nesta's shoulder in reassurance before slipping her hand into Randall's making their way to wash their dishes before retrieving to the guest room Nesta had set up for them earlier.

She watched Ember go, taking a deep breath and gathering her courage as she turned back to Cassian, his focus still on his own plate as she straightened slightly. That was it, she was tired of this silence between them. If he was mad at her, fine, but she refused to let this argument fester between them any longer instead of talking about it.

"Go ahead." She finally said to him making Cassian's head lift in response, his eyes still flared with the fire she had seen in them earlier that day. she refused to back down from it.

"What do you want me to say Nesta? That I'm upset? You know I am, but somehow I doubt you care.”

"What was it about my decision that made you so angry? Even Feyre knew why i did it."

"I'm not Fyere, Nesta."

"Neither am i." Nesta argued, her hand clenching the table, "And yet when i make a decision that Feyre herself would have made, I'm punished and reprimanded for it. Why is that?"

Cassian gave her a leveled look, crossing his arms over his chest as he answered,

"I've been mad at Feyre plenty of times for throwing not just herself, but all of us in danger. You should have seen how angry I was when she decided not to tell any of us that she was High lady and decided to go with Tamlin to the Spring Court."

She briefly remembered that time, had remembered some of his anger, but mostly during that time, she had remembered him doing everything to keep her sane. Even if it meant provoking her anger in the process so she had something else to focus on then her own reality.

"Stop trying to change the subject, you owe me an explanation. I know why Rhys was mad, he's the High lord of these lands, Nyx is barely four months old and I already know he detest me, but I still can't figure out why my mate, the person who's supposed to understand me the most is angrier at me than my own brother in law is."

Cassian stood abruptly as Nesta stood up to meet him, crossing her arms over her chest. there was no way in hell that she would let him avoid this conversation. No matter how unpleasant it made both of them feel. She was tired of whatever the hell was happening between the two.

"You want to know why I'm pissed at you, why I'm furious that you gave it to that-that female." Cassian spewed out stepping closer to her so there was no space between them.

"I'm here waiting for an explanation aren't I?" She pressed.

"You are the most infuriating female I have ever met, you know that?"

She gave a low laugh at that,

"In that way we're evenly matched."

She expected lot of things, for him to yell at her some more or for him to walk away, she did not expect him to pull her in, whined his hands in her hair, and press his lips to hers.

She met his furious kisses, stroke for stroke, taking her own fury at him out in her kiss as they battled for dominance. He pulled away, leaving her breathless but still tilted her face up to meet that fire in his eyes as he breathed out,

"I'm angry, because that female had the audacity to ask my mate for a favor after she had already put your life in danger. I'm angry because the woman I love, put her life and safety at risk to help save others who would not do the same for her. I'm angry because-"

"Did you just say that you love me?" Nesta questioned, his declaration catching her off guard as he breathed pausing in his expiation blinking in confusion.

"Of course I did. You're my mate, why wouldn't I-"

He paused considering, contemplating their time together. the words he had uttered to her in their love making, she knew he loved her, had felt it in his kiss, in the fierceness of how he showed it to her, but she had never heard him utter it out loud, not until this very moment.

"I'm an asshole." He finally admitted, sorrow and regret in his eyes and a hint of shame. "I'm a selfish, cowardice, asshole, and some days I do not deserve you."

She closed the very narrow distance between them, standing on tip toes to press her lips to his, her hands gently caressing his face as he kissed her back with the desire of a thousand universes.

"I love you too." She whispered, losing herself in his strong embrace, her lover, her best friend, her mate.

"I should have said it sooner." He whispered to her in between their urgent kisses.

"The past is the past, Cassian. I'd rather live in the here and the now, for however long the Mother and The universe gives us, I want you by my side."

He grasped her hand, intertwining their fingers as he said,

"I wouldn't want it any other way, Nesta Archeron."

She smiled, capturing his lips once more as she mused,

"We should take this to the bedroom that way you can show me how much you love me."

She felt his smile between their kiss as he lifted her up in his arms, a giggle escaping her as he grinned,

"I thought you'd never ask."

@sjmromanceweek

[nameless-jamie]

Hi, I see that you're busy so no pressure. Just wanted to thank you for your ffs and ask if you'd consider continuing Steady Hands? Just wanted to read about Jamie and PA having lunch and him being an absolute himbo trying to distruct her 🥰 thanks 🥰🥰🥰

Steady Heart

Small Drabble (read Steady Hands first!)

Masterlist

Jamie Tartt x fem! PA reader

TW: cursing

A/N: Thank you for the request and the interest in this specific fic! I actually couldn't think of the situation further, as a long chapter, so I turned it into a small drabble I hope that's okay too! But I bet we'll see more of himbo Jamie soon! (Why is spelling soufflé so hard???)

The midday sun bathed the quaint café in a golden glow, casting playful shadows across the rustic wooden table where Y/N and Jamie sat. The remnants of their lunch lay between them, but Jamie's attention was entirely on her, his signature mischievous grin playing on his lips.

"You know," Jamie began, leaning back and stretching his arms, the movement causing his shirt to tighten across his chest, "I once tried to cook a romantic dinner. Thought I'd impress someone special."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "Oh? And how did that turn out?"

"Well," He chuckled, a playful glint in his eye. "let's just say the fire department knows me by name now."

She laughed, the sound light and genuine. "What were you attempting to make?"

"A soufflé," he admitted, leaning in slightly. "Didn't realize you're not supposed to open the oven every five minutes to check on it."

Y/N shook her head, smiling. "That's adorable, Jamie. But we know that cooking isn't your thing."

Jamie smiled, his expression earnest. "Hey, if you ever need a laugh, just remember: I once set cereal on fire. Last Monday actually."

She giggled, the tension from earlier in the day melting away. "How is that even possible? I thought when you set that shelf on fire it was the last time the fire department had to come?!"

"It's a talent, babe. The guys from the fire department are fans by the way..." he said with a wink.

Jamie leaned closer, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "You know, I have other talents too. Plenty..."

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks but met his gaze steadily. "Oh? Care to elaborate?"

Swear to god if it's something sexual, Jamie Tartt. She might hit him...

"Nah, these talents ya have to discover yourself..." He smirked, eyes twinkling. "Look, I'm also pretty good at making people smile. Like right now. Fuck, got to make a list of me talents now."

Y/N rolled her eyes playfully. "Is that so? Maybe I'm just humoring you."

Jamie placed a hand over his heart in mock offense. "Wounding me, love. Here I am, pouring my heart out, and you're just humoring me."

She laughed again, the earlier tension of the day melting away. "Alright, Mr. Tartt. What else you got, tell me more about your other 'talents'."

He leaned back, a thoughtful expression on his face. "Well, I'm also quite skilled at reading people."

"Oh really?" she challenged. "And what do you read from me, then?"

Jamie met her eyes, his gaze softening. "I see someone who's been carrying a lot on her shoulders. Someone who deserves a break and a bit of fun."

Y/N felt her breath hitch slightly. "And you're the one to provide that fun, I suppose?"

He grinned, leaning in once more. "Absolutely. Starting with dessert. They have this chocolate lava cake here that's to die for. Share it with me?"

She pretended to ponder. "Hmm, I don't know. Sharing dessert is quite intimate."

Jamie winked. "Exactly."

As the waiter brought over the decadent dessert, Jamie grabbed a fork, scooping up a piece of the molten cake. He held it out to her, eyes locked onto hers.

"Open wide," he teased.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before leaning in, accepting the bite. The rich chocolate melted on her tongue, but it was the intensity of Jamie's gaze that truly made her heart race.

"Delicious?" he asked, his voice low.

She nodded, swallowing. "Fuck. Very."

Jamie took a bite himself, then offered her another. "You know, they say sharing food is a way to someone's heart, babe."

Y/N smirked. "Is that your plan? To win my heart with chocolate cake?"

He leaned in so close she could feel his breath. "It's a start."

The air between them seemed to thicken, the playful banter giving way to a deeper connection. Y/N felt a flutter in her chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness.

"Jamie," she began, her voice soft.

"Yes, love?"

"Thank you. For this. I didn't realize how much I needed it."

He reached across the table, taking her hand in his. "Anytime. And I mean that."

As they finished their dessert, the world outside the café continued on, but inside, time seemed to stand still for the two of them, lost in each other's company.

[ottpopfic]

“Its because your dad wants to babysit” Will informs him after a long bitch fest “he did the same thing before you figured out family dinners, remember”

Nico pauses, thinks it over, and then puts his face in his hands to groan “Fuck your right”

“Im always right”

“Don't start” Nico does not whine

“Just add him to the pick up drop off list” his husband laughs “then he can go have Grandpa time and we can get a date night”

“Are you sure?” Nico checks “he can be a lot”

“Lay down some rules first” Will shrugs, like a primordial force in the Kiss and Ride is no big deal “Just like you did last time”

Nico’s husband is so smart, he loves him so much. Nico makes a point to call his dad the next day to set things in motion

And his dad looks so guilty at the accusation, the same way he was when Nico called him out about the same thing before. It's comical in a way, the King of Hell looking a little like a puppy getting scolded after chewing a shoe under the indictment of his mortal son. Who says the gods can't be humbled

“Look, we're not saying you can't spend time with Katie, in fact we're saying the opposite. You just can't be pulling me off on jobs right and left so you can babysit, I'm exhausted and it's not good for Piccolina to spend so much time downstairs” Nico explains not unlikely “Also Jason is about to start trying to pick her up from you himself, I think he's going into kid withdrawal”

“The blond Valdez is banished from my kingdom until it is time for a permanent death” his father snaps “the two of them are on thin ice”

“Yeah well keep in mind that if you kill her uncles Katie will never forgive you,” Nico reminds “I think she loves Leo more than us sometimes”

“I will, refrain, from balancing the scales in regards to the Valdez's” Hades says only a little through his teeth, sounding more worried about his granddaughter's ire than killing two dudes who his son considers family “but they will not be allowed to ‘pick up’ from the palace, I can only bend things so far”

“Cool, works for us” Nico says “were planning on adding you to the pickup drop-off list”

“the pickup drop-off list?”

“Yeah, so you will be allowed to collect her after school”

“I do not need to be added to a list” Hades scoffs “I can just go in and get her”

“Uh no you can not” Nico tells him “The school secretary is a sphinx and I do not need to do the bureaucratic circus tricks she makes people do when they fuck around with her kids, there's a reason Leo got taken off the list”

The reason is Leo kept landing Festus on the roof and then entering the school through the roof access instead of the front door like visitors are supposed to. And while Miss. Tina is a lovely woman who cares very deeply about her work, she does not take kindly to little Latin twinks who think they can find a ‘secret entrance’ to what and who she is guarding.

Miss.Tina is one of the main reasons Katie is in the school she is, along with the three whole saitors who work there; especially Miss. Holly Fields the school nurse who specialises in getting kids diagnosed with an array of neurodivergentcies. It's part of a growing network of schools that The Program has been helping to not only get monsters and other mythological creatures jobs, but find young demigods faster. The earlier a kid is spotted the better, and well-staffed schools help protect the halflings that are not year-rounders

Its the reason they went with public school over the private schools they could have easily gotten Katie into, its safe there. There are two other demigod students in the building and they haven't had an successful monster atack in years, the magical employees make sure of that

[miraculouslbcnreactions]

Yeah, sure, I'll chime in, but only because I generally agree with everything laid out above. As always, I don't publicly comment on posts I don't agree with. This is not the fandom way. Do not attack others for their opinions on fictional shows. If you disagree and think they're horribly wrong, then roll your eyes, block them, and let them be wrong.

I've made my thoughts on the "true selves" theory pretty clear. It's insulting to the characters on every level. Marinette is not wrong for being drawn to Adrien when he's being sweet and Adrien is not wrong for being drawn to Marinette when she's at her most badass. You're not a bad person for being drawn to positive traits. What usually happens is that you're drawn to positive traits and come to love the whole picture over time. As an example, Marinette doesn't appear to hate puns. It's just that puns won't make her fall in love with you. Genuine kindness makes her fall in love while puns are a neutral trait. It's not about Adrien being better. It's that Adrien is more likely to show the softer side that Marinette values in a romantic partner. Meanwhile Chat Noir can be pretty freaking annoying. It's no wonder she likes the side she does.

All of this is yet another reason why I like Ladrien best with Ladynoir as a close second. Those are the relationships that allow the characters to be the most open and honest while maintaining secret identities. The relationships that let you fall for the whole picture so long as the characters aren't over the top about secret identities which they shouldn't be in a city of millions. Of course, I'm talking about those relationships in concept. In the context of canon, things are a little more messy.

When it comes to canon, Marinette and Adrien both have massive issues re the way their crushes are written. I tend to talk about Marinette's problems the most because of the asks I get, but I've mentioned several times that Adrien is equally bad and I stand by that. His bad behavior just has a different flavor and is framed in a different way, making it less glaring to the casual observer. When Adrien is rejected in canon, we're almost always supposed to feel bad even though Ladybug owes him absolutely nothing re romance. She is allowed to say no! The fact that she secretly loves him does not make his persistence okay, especially since he has no idea that she secretly loves him. Meanwhile, when Marinette fails to confess, we're supposed to laugh. It's pretty messed up and is absolutely part of the reason why she's viewed as the sole problem by some.

While I don't like either character's persistence, if this is the running gag that canon wanted to go with, then it should be framed the same way on both sides. Chat Noir's endless confessions should be as much of a joke as Marinette's endless failed confessions. I've even pointed out that canon should have had them both constantly failing for better parallels and humor. Instead, you get shit like Galciator where Ladybug explicitly tells Chat Noir that she can't meet up later:

Cat Noir: So, uh, Ladybug? What would you say if you and I met up tonight for a little dinner? Rooftop style? Ladybug: For dinner? As superheroes? Cat Noir: Well, uh, yeah. That's right. We're only together when we're saving Paris. I mean, wouldn't you actually like to get to know one another? Ladybug: I... That's so thoughtful of you, but I can't. I have to, uh, I already have plans with some friends. Bus driver: (steps out of the bus and shakes hands with Cat Noir) Thank you. (shakes Ladybug's hand) Thank you, Ladybug. Cat Noir: Well, if your plans end early, come and join me. Ladybug: We'll see. Cat Noir: I'll be waiting, my lady.

Only for Chat Noir to be heartbroken when she lives up to her word and doesn't show. He's played in an incredibly sympathetic way here even though the lesson of the episode really should have been that he was in the wrong. He should have sneaked out get ice cream with his friends instead of sneaking out to waiting for the girl who told him she wasn't going to be able to make it. Yet Marinette is the one who causes an akuma here and the one who is made to feel guilty even though Adrien is never made to feel guilty for missing out on her confessions:

Cat Noir: Just give me a minute. (sets Marinette down and lights up the candles) Alright, you can open your eyes now. Marinette: (looks around in awe) Wow! Cat Noir, this is... beautiful! (notices Cat Noir looking glum) I'm so sorry. Cat Noir: Why? It's not your fault. Marinette: No— Yeah— I mean— What I mean is I'm very sorry for you because, um, you prepared all of this and then... she didn't show.

This is especially saddening since my experience is that you're way more likely to run into an Adrien than a Marinette precisely because of shit like Miraculous where persistence in the face of a no is shown to be a good thing for some reason. In the context of lessons for the kids watching at home, Adrien's behavior is the one I'd like to see addressed because I don't want little girls being told that they're bad for rejecting a guy who loves them. If Chat Noir must behave this way, then it should be played for laughs not heartbreak. The show reinforces a lot of society's messed up standards about the way women are taught to prioritize the feelings of others over their own feelings and I do not like it.

I have also noticed a trend in fics where they either focus on having Marinette apologize or Adrien apologize with Marinette's behavior seeming to get a lot more attention than Adrien's. I get why. She's the one actively making mistakes and being played as needing to learn lessons, but that's part of why it's just not fun for me to dump on her. It would be one thing if they were both messing up, but the longer canon goes on, the more Adrien only exists to flirt and be sad. He never does anything!

As I pointed out in a recent post, canon doesn't even allow him to ask for more responsibility unless the writers want to cause tension in a battle or other high stress moment. When it's a calm moment where Ladybug has time to listen, he's totally content with the status quo and doesn't want anything to change. It's annoying and part of the reason I can rarely bring myself to care about anything Marinette does wrong. On paper, I'll probably agree that it was a bad action, but emotionally I'm just like, hey, at least she's moving the plot forward! I don't think Adrien has done that since season one unless we're counting things like him quitting or getting hit by Oblivio because he wouldn't stop flirting in the middle of a fight. The writers have really failed to make him the cute, supportive, funny romantic lead I signed up for and I hate it.

I've said this part before but I stand by it so I'll repeat it here as a closing statement: the love square is a wonderful setup for a perfect give-and-take relationship. You have Adrien with all the pressure of his messed up home life and Ladybug with all the pressure of leading a team in battle. Meanwhile Marinette has a great home life and Chat Noir is more of a supportive fighter and distraction who just does what Ladybug tells him (not a negative, battle teams need leaders and followers to work). This allows for a civilian setup where Adrien gets all of Marinette's support and a hero setup where Ladybug gets all of Chat Noir's support because that's who needs the support on each side.

Instead of embracing that wonderful setup, canon has made a mess of things creating a toxic mess of a relationship that's unhealthy for everyone. Marinette can do nothing right and Adrien can just generally do nothing at all. It's why my preference is fics that ignore the later seasons and just embrace the cute fun couple we could have always had. I'm here for what canon could have been not what it actually is.

It's you dislike of Adrien solely because of his actions on the show, or was it also because of his fandom?

A mix of both, but honestly? I'd say it's more because of his fandom. With Canon, I probably would have written a single salt fic for him and moved on because I did still like him and overall felt I could do more with him than Canon was willing to, but I was on a binge of Miraculous fics for a while I started to notice a reoccurring trend in the fandom and many fanfics. Even the ones that didn't outright hate on Marinette before seemed to have this rather one-sided view of their relationship.

Them getting together was being primarily for HIS sake, regardless of Marinette's feelings or personal needs.

Any issue was on Marinette to apologize and fix, regardless whether or not he was in the wrong. And completely IGNORING whether Marinette was even realistically or reasonably capable of fixing them.

The "true selves" argument was all too common, mostly if not entirely on the side of Marinette needing to be the one to learn a lesson and accept Adrien for his "true self" as Chat. Nevermind that this was never an actual point in Canon.

Marinette needing to be the one to work to be worthy of him...which, hello? Hasn't Canon made her do enough yet?

All these stories I read and fandom comments I saw were ultimately indicative of a desire for a completely one-sided relationship between the two where Marinette has to be the one to prove herself to be "good enough for him", to "earn" a place at his side, to work to be "deserving" of his heart, to take care of his physical and emotions needs and effectively serve as a replacement mother figure...at least when she wasn't otherwise expected to "save him" from his oh so horrible life as a rich and popular supermodel.

Even in stories where he was completely in the wrong on a major point, matters wouldn't get resolved until Marinette was the one to have to step up and make an effort, make ADRIEN feel better about whatever happened, apologize for something that either wasn't her fault or was relatively minor in the face of his own actions, and fix things so they but specifically HE can be happy.

Sorry all, I know Adrien is popular and has no agency either in or out of Canon, but I can't NOT see it. And I can't stop seeing it, especially as we get more Marinette hate that seems to reinforce this narrative or otherwise say that failing being this perfect housewife/mother to him, she should suffer in loneliness for the rest of her life.

All anyone had to do was just...let Adrien be wrong. Let him acknowledge being wrong, apologize for it, and be the one to make things right. No excuses. No "but but he's a sad boi!" Just let him be wrong and try to be better. And yet much like Canon, the fandom has been quite insistent that THAT be the one thing they refuse to allow.

[destructive-delight]

how much do i hate myself today and does that leave room for me to post any of the photos the mothership took of me? hmm...

[a-shade-of-green]

do you think it was weird for mike to go to california and experience his first byers family dinner in months just for it to be far too similar to wheeler family dinners

[curiosity-killed]

i love my sister and for the most part, we are very close and genuinely like each other a lot but the one place where i'd just really, really, really like to see inside her brain is the part where she is still incredibly comfortable and cheerful—and even thinks it's really funny—talking about how much she didn't like me as a child while I'm like. yes. I am and was aware. and it sucked so so so much

[f1-tennisgirlie]

this is just like a snippet but hope you like it <3

Monaco’s streets glowed under the flickering orange of streetlights, a thin fog curling over the pavement in the early hours of the morning. Detective Carlos Alcaraz stepped out of his patrol car, his badge gleaming in the artificial glow, as the crime scene ahead pulsed with blue and red lights.

CSI Jannik Sinner was already there, crouched beside the victim’s car, latex gloves slipping over his hands with methodical ease. He barely looked up when Carlos approached, his focus sharp, his movements precise. To anyone watching, they were just two professionals, their interactions strictly procedural.

“Single gunshot wound to the chest. Entry point suggests close range,” Jannik muttered, his gloved fingers carefully examining the bloodied shirt. “No sign of a struggle.”

Carlos nodded, his eyes flickering to Jannik’s face for the briefest second before turning back to the crime scene. “Any witnesses?”

Jannik shook his head. “Not that we know of yet. But given the location, someone had to hear something.”

A few officers stood nearby, watching the two work seamlessly. Their efficiency was admired—Carlos was known for his keen instincts, Jannik for his cold, almost surgical precision. They were the best in their respective fields, and when they worked together, cases were solved with eerie speed.

Still, something about them unsettled people, though no one could quite place it.

Lorenzo Musetti, one of Carlos’ fellow officers, leaned toward Matteo Berrettini, his voice hushed. “They ever seem… weirdly in sync to you?”

Matteo glanced at them before shrugging. “They work together a lot. Makes sense.”

Lorenzo hummed but didn’t look convinced. Holger Rune, who had been quietly watching from the side, smirked. “I don’t know, man. There’s something off. You ever notice how they don’t even need to speak half the time?”

Jack Draper, another forensic analyst, chuckled as he approached. “I’ve noticed, but I don’t think we’re supposed to question it.”

Holger folded his arms. “Yeah, but now I want to.”

Jannik and Carlos remained oblivious to their colleagues’ growing curiosity. The case took priority. As Jannik stood, stripping off his gloves, Carlos barely glanced at him before murmuring, “Dinner later?”

Jannik didn’t hesitate. “Yeah.”

To anyone else, it sounded like a simple agreement. But to those paying attention, the ease with which the question was asked—and answered—was enough to raise suspicions.

Lorenzo narrowed his eyes. “Okay, that was weird.”

Matteo sighed. “Now you’re just looking for things.”

Holger, however, was grinning. “No, he’s right. And I bet this isn’t the last time we notice something.”

As the investigation pressed on, so did the quiet observations of those around them. Jannik and Carlos thought they had hidden their relationship well. But secrets, much like evidence, always had a way of coming to light.

Suddenly had a CSI Jannik x Cop Carlos idea where they work with each other frequently because of cases and because of their professional behavior on site with each other no one knows that they’re married and adopted a baby girl.

[deus-ex-mona]

have y’all been streaming kimikawaii~~?

[nerdyfangirlingbooks]

Every now and then I remember the times I would mention to my flatmate that I was thinking of buying myself something reasonably expensive (that I had been eyeing up for months and had budgeted for) and she'd tell me that I shouldn't spend that much money on something I didn't need and it would be stupid etc etc while she regularly impulse bought things that cost at least as much and she would use once (while complaining that she was under a lot of financial stress and couldn't afford <$3/week for 2 months for a rental washing machine when ours broke). She is... perhaps not my first call for financial advice

[emometalhead]

.