#you lucky son of a gun

[susahnasomething]

FINISHED HONEY QUEEN AND BY GOD Loved how both ruthless Linda and Zoe were, completely insane those two. I ship them in a very complicated way, like theres no love between them, just hatred. but isnt hate and love different sides of the same coin? They should kill each other more, as a treat. Also Linda's dad sucks, hate him as much as hatchetfield hates clivesdale. Linda Monroe you are the honey queen of my heart, you may never find the love and respect you desire. Your dad with never see you as anything more than a piglet. and Becky Barnes is the reason you despise yourself. (also consistent art style whats that?)

[reveluving]

me mentally preparing myself for one of mags' dresses again:

me after she shows it:

;;; @choicesbookclub

[koistudios]

wip

[halechief]

30 somethings claire i love youuuuuu

[ru-bwee]

i harbour a big sadness and a void in my heart that wont be filled until they finally start selling project sekai merch to the uk

[gingernut1314]

that time of the day.💫

loverboy sanji collab! hosted by @stephisokay , thank you for having me! 🤗

[oceantornadoo]

ch2 something borrowed something blue (mafia!price x simon's sister!reader)

masterlist | next

You hate John Price because he ruined your childhood. Or at least, his father did.

Growing up as a bastard was hard. You do thank your lucky stars that you were a bastard in modern-day society, and not during some time when your mother could have had her head chopped off. It’s the small things.

Your mother was Mr. Riley’s nanny. How original. 

Mrs. Riley, Simon and Tommy’s mother, did not like her husband. Smart woman. He was cruel, knew how to poke at scars until they opened and bled down bruised skin. They had an heir and a spare, neither of which she was particularly attached to. It was enough to fulfill their marriage contract, so she got to live out the rest of her days in a beachside condo in Cornwall. Simon and Tommy were raised properly, the Riley way, in Greater Manchester. In a mansion bought by blood and exploitation, guns and gold. 

With the wife out of the way and two boys under five, Mr. Riley hired a nanny. The way your mother tells it, only after three glasses of wine before the sun sets, she was low on cash and desperate for a place to stay. The whispers about the Riley family were loud, but the grumbling of her stomach was louder. It’s a phrase she repeated over and over during your childhood, as you hopped from international school in Paris to private school in New York City, wherever your father decreed was safer. You tell her she doesn’t need to justify it, even now as you live with your brother and she stays countries away, but she’ll just give you that same tightlipped smile. She still doesn’t forgive herself for who your father was, so you have to forgive her for the both of you.

She couldn’t say no to Mr. Riley. Maybe it was the sight of her with his kids or her constant proximity, but he claimed he was in love. You can’t say no to the head of a gang, especially if you’re an employee. And once she became pregnant, he tightened the reins. Pulled strings to become your legal primary caregiver so she couldn’t leave the country. It was only after a robbery went wrong, where Mr. Riley lost almost a quarter of his wealth, he invited others to weigh in on the situation. Or at least, Mr. Price.

You were seven, Tommy was ten, and Simon was fourteen. Simon said he was too grown up to play with a baby like you, but Tommy always stuck around. Tommy just beat you in hide and seek, again, and frustration seeped out of your skin. He always caught you, no matter where you hid. He was counting down to another round and you were determined to win this time. There was one place he wouldn’t think of - your father’s office.

There have been a lot more men around lately. Mama had told you to keep upstairs, out of eyesight, but you wanted to win this time. Tommy was counting from sixty, too fast in your opinion, so you creeped down the stairs at warp speed. There was a secret door to Father’s office, mainly for the maids, and it had a door for your dog. Riley was huge, so the flap took up a third of the door. You were still small enough to scurry through, though it was becoming a tighter fit lately. Determined, you popped through the flap, being sure not to disturb Father. There was a chair for you to hide behind, a perfect angle to hide from the man on the other side of Father’s desk while still keeping an eye out for Tommy’s feet.

“They hit you because you’re weak.” The man’s voice was familiar. Mr. Price. He was around more and more, always bringing his annoying son John. He was sixteen and thought he was so cool, bossing around the staff like he was, well, the boss. And he never wanted to play. 

“They hit us because my idiot men weren’t watchin’ the cameras.” Father replied. He sounded angry. He always snorted like a bull before he started yelling, and you could hear him huffing. “Y’ve got a bastard an’ ‘er mother yankin’ ya by the balls. She’s the help, for god sake. The scousers see an opportunity.” You knew that word. Bastard. Simon had called you bastard once, a year ago when you took his stuffed animal that he hid from Father. Mama told you it was a mean word, only said by people with too-small hearts. When Simon said it, you cried for an hour. He apologized, hugging you like a baby until the tears receded. Then, he promised to hurt anyone who said that word to you. 

“What do you suggest?” Father didn’t say anything about the mean word. He was like that, he didn’t protect you like Tommy or Simon. “Send them away. Make your enemies forget about your weakness. Bring Simon into the fold.” That wasn’t Mr. Price speaking, it was John. He wanted to send you away? You prayed not to Cornwall, where Simon’s mom lived. She was scary.

“I second John. You need strength, not complication. Focusin’ on Simon learnin’ the ropes will emphasize your heir, not the help y’ forgot to wear a rubber with. ‘Least til she’s eighteen an’ can be married.” Mama wasn’t married, so you didn’t want to be either. “Appreciate the help, gentlemen. Now about the Chester deal…” You tuned them out. Sent away? You had to tell Mama. Slipping away like a cat, you ran to find Mama, not stopping even when Tommy found you. He’d won, again.

Without John’s suggestion, you might have stayed. You might have gotten a real relationship with your brothers. You might have prevented Tommy from walking into that gunfight and- that’s where the hypotheticals stopped. Who knows what would have happened? What you know is that, despite being provided for and with your mom, there was always that what if? clinging to the back of your brain.

Your father died when you were twenty-two. Months after he’d paid your last college bill, thankfully. Simon called you during your summer of freedom, a twenty-nine-year-old man with no clue how to run an empire. A lost younger brother between you. He’d promised to protect you, and that was your chance to return the favor. Family first, the Riley way.

-

Now, years later, the hate for John Price has turned from a boil to a simmer. Something you don’t think about constantly until he’s right in front of you. It’s hard to blame a man for a teenage hypothetical, but that doesn’t mean you couldn’t insult him for being a pompous git. A mafia brat. Decades of being shitty to each other have turned the cord of your relationship rotted black, a frayed string connected by the fact you can’t physically hurt the other. You’ve got no clue why he wants to marry you of all people, so you’re determined to scare him off. This should be fun.

-

“Quaint,” John mutters to Gaz, who scoffs. They took the jet, a quick hour trip, and brought Laswell, his trusted lawyer. The bookstore is off a side street in Greater Manchester, next to a cafe and a flower shop for god sake. He has to give it to Ghost; it’s a good place to clean cash or lay low. Discreet. No clue why the spitfire’s running it, though. He’s surprised it’s not gone to ruin.

The bell over the door makes a faint tinkling sound as they enter. Gaz goes first, ready for an ambush like the control freak he is, and John can see you smiling at him. It’s a smile he’s never seen, unbidden and shy. It immediately sours once John emerges, turning into a faint frown. “You actually came.” You say it like you aren’t discussing a marriage contract to tie you together for eternity. It’s been a year since John last saw you. Your meetings are infrequent, mainly in passing during weddings and funerals. He knows it’s been years since you came back to Manchester, but you finally seem to have…matured. More confident with your movements, at ease behind the counter of your bookstore. If he were a different man, your confidence would be attractive, but in this world, something about it irritates him.

He sees you pick up your phone, a battered thing, and fire off a short text. Not five seconds later, Soap and Ghost emerge from the shadows of the backroom, men in suits at their shoulders. The shop is immediately crowded, and you cringe at the change in atmosphere. “You’re lucky I closed the store today. Your vibe would freak out the customers. Come on.” John is already practicing restraint, biting his tongue so he doesn’t reply like a scorned teenager. He’s too grown for this. 

Soap leads the way, opening a hidden door to the basement by tugging at a dusty bookshelf in the back. He holds the door open for everyone, trading looks with Ghost before nodding to the Price group. “What do ya do if a customer pulls that book by accident?” Gaz wonders out loud, snorting to himself as he approaches the door. “Dosnae happen, Garrick.” Gaz grins and John sighs inwardly. “Usin’ last names now, MacTavish? I can play that game too.” Gaz dips down the staircase before Soap can answer, presumably needing to have the last word. Between you and Soap, this is going to be a long meeting.

The bookstore might be old and dusty, but the basement is sleek and modern. John passes a small med bay, fully stocked, before they reach a large conference room, equipped with TVs and enough office chairs for a small army. Even Gaz lets out a low whistle, while Laswell hums thoughtfully. Kate’s probably memorizing the layout for another upgrade to her office.

As everyone sits, two waiters make their rounds, taking drink orders. He gets a tea and thanks the waiter, catching your brows furrowing after he murmurs his gratitude. Odd.

“Right so-” Soap starts, but Gaz cuts him off. “You’re a bloody barrister?” Soap practically growls at his tone. “Solicitor. Not jus’ a pretty face, Garrick.” It’s silent as the two stare, a contest only broken when Simon clears his throat. “Get on with it, haven’t got all day.” Soap starts again, mainly talking with Kate as they go through the contract. John has it practically memorized. 25% of his businesses, mainly the ones not in London, in exchange for their weight in Ghost’s gold, something he desperately needs. Relinquishing his claims to border territory between Manchester and Liverpool, something that would make his father turn in his grave, for thousands of weapons. Guns, bullets, tracking equipment - anything he can use that has removable identity numbers. It’s a deal that’ll help him win against Shepherd’s men. All for the small price of being married to you, of course.

“Ms. Riley will marry Mr. Price and produce a minimum of two children within ten years. In case of fertility struggles, one child will suffice, only with a board of doctors agreement. If infertility persists and no children are produced, we have clauses for that.” The statement rolls off Laswell’s tongue easily, but John can tell the moment it reaches your brain. Your eyebrows go sky high, and you almost stand until Simon puts a firm hand on your shoulder, keeping you in place. “Board of doctors? What, so if I can’t get pregnant, I have to inform an entire hospital just so I don’t get shot? That’s barbaric.” You spit out, and John can’t help but agree. If the situation comes to it, he wouldn’t want the future mother of his child having to humiliate herself like that. Thoughts of you being a mother are turned away, a dreary thought for another day.

John murmurs instructions to Laswell, who notes them down with ease. He can tell she approves as her shoulders relax slightly. “We can amend this line. It’ll only require one doctor, not a board, and it can be your current gyno or someone else. The matter will stay between Ms. Riley, Mr. Price, and Mr. Riley if it comes to be.” Laswell replies. You huff, irritated that John agreed, and he smirks at you from across the table. You’re so easy to tease, probably because you’re snooty and spoiled.

“What about my bookstore?” The question escapes you after another ten minutes of Laswell droning on about childcare protocol. How if there’s no child in ten years, and all avenues have been explored, the marriage will be dissolved. “What about it?” Laswell asks smoothly. Your eyes dart between her’s and John’s. “Well, I’ll hire a manager for the Riley store, but what about in London?” John considers it, running a hand through his beard. It’s a safety risk, but who knows what havoc you’ll wreak on his home if you’re bored 24/7. Something to do would be nice.

“‘Ve got a few closed storefronts I own. You could take one.” Your mouth drops. You didn’t expect him to agree, to be honest. Imagined yourself chained to his property, playing housewife night and day. “I want to own it. Buy it from you so the deed is in my name.” You cross your arms on your chest, quirking an eyebrow like it’s a challenge.

“Fine. But you’ll let it up once there’s kids.”

“Not happening.”

“First few years, at least.”

“And are you taking a few years off for paternity leave?” Well, no. But he’s running an organized crime unit of over 5,000 members and you’re running a bookstore. John can’t have other families seeing his wife working when she’s supposed to be resting or raising his heir.

“First year after every new kid. That’s what I’ll agree to.” Soap murmurs something in your ear and you sigh with defeat. “Fine. But you have to sell me the property at fair market value and you can’t use it for any business. And I get to pick any property not in use.” This seems to be the hill you’re dying on. If you were a Made Man, he’d add in flowery language, guaranteeing you the cheapest property. But he’s already taking your home and your business from you, not to mention your womb and ten years of your life. He can spare a building.

“Agreed. Next.”

Soap continues on, his leg bouncing under the table with so much force that it’s shaking. He’s eager to get out, that’s for sure, and John can’t help but wonder why. “Ms. Riley will reside with Mr. Price at his permanent London residence. If she wishes t’ leave city limits, she must request written permission.” John quirks an eyebrow. Surely you’ll bite at this one.

“I’m not even dignifying that with a response.” Is what eventually comes out of your mouth. Took you almost thirty seconds to say it. He could see you weighing your options in your mind, the price of too many amendments versus your freedom. He almost respects the move, until he remembers this is the Riley brat. Not someone to be respected.

“‘S for your safety.” He croaks out, throat dry from lack of use. Speaking to you is like breaking the fourth wall, an unsettling feeling. The full force of your glare is blazing hot, the pits of Hell contained in two eyes. “I can take care of myself. I’ve always got a gun and a man on me.” You challenge him.

“Guns run out of bullets. Men die.” He replies, smug with the fact you can’t particularly deny what he’s saying. You turn to Soap, muttering your dissent. He shakes his head, then looks over at Ghost. The bastard has his mask on, but even a blind man could see he agrees with the statement. He wants to protect his sister, a trait John knew he could rely on.

“Fine. Oral works.” You say the words like they’re bitter on your tongue, something you want to spit out. “Does it, sweetheart? Good t’ know.” You roll your eyes, then shove Soap’s shoulder for him to continue. “Can’t believe I’m marrying a manchild.” If you’d said it in front of his men, he’d have to reprimand you, but he can drop the mask in this room. He’s not going to punish his future wife this early. It would throw off the wedding atmosphere.

Laswell marks the change from written to oral permission then continues. She’s at the last few lines, thankfully. “The marriage cannot be dissolved unless in the case of maltreatment or abuse. If there is evidence of Ms. Riley cheating, 50% of the Riley Family assets will be transferred to the Price Family and the marriage will be dissolved. Any bastards will not be recognized and will be given no child support.” The word bastard echoes around the room. Laswell could say she didn’t realize the context of the word but, knowing her, it was probably used on purpose. A test.

You roll your shoulders back. Ghost’s eyes narrow into black pits. Soap’s hands clench and unclench on the table. Despite the obvious tension, there’s no immediate reaction. You don’t jump on the table and curse his ancestors or pull out a gun and start shooting. Both he expected more than the actual outcome, which is…nothing. You nod at Soap and Ghost, gesturing at them to continue. 

It should be a victory. Gaz is nudging him under the table, his right-hand man all too proud that he riled up the Rileys. The feeling of success is hollow as John tracks your tense muscles, the way you turn your gaze to the contract in front of you and don’t move, even when Laswell finishes reading it. You’re just…frozen. It’s too human of a look on you, and John wonders if this is what your marriage will be like. Cold. Distant. Robotic fucking, just enough to make heirs. A fidelity clause only for you, while John can do whatever he wants as long as there aren’t any kids made. It’s a point he would have let you argue, let you add a fidelity clause for him too, but you take it on the chin. Is it punishment for the family sin you didn’t commit? The mantle of knowledge is heavy on his shoulders.

John signs. You sign. Ghost signs then hands it to the lawyers. Gaz is the witness. In five minutes, John has turned his mafia into a militarized mob and gained a wife who hates him. Every man’s dream.

Papers are gathered as the waiters clear glasses from the table. He stands only after you do, observing how Ghost has to touch your shoulder to get you to pay attention. Soap leads the way again, but John hangs back until he’s shoulder to shoulder with you. The dislike is still there, a plant that sprouted roots eons ago, but the urge to be a good husband is there as well. He was raised with the standards of chivalry, to be the picture of a gentleman. He will not treat the mother of his children like how his father treated his mother. He will be better.

“Alrigh’?” He nudges your shoulder. It snaps you out of your daydream, glassy eyes meeting his own as you take stock of the situation. “Fuckin’ mint, thanks.” It’s the most Manc thing he’s ever heard you say. “Remember bein’ promised tea, but not a biscuit t’ be found.” You snort and he’s glad for it. You seem to finally be out of whatever funk came over you. He lets you go in front of him on the staircase, keeping his eyes firmly on the sliver of skin that shows as you move and the outline of a gun tucked in your waistband. John Price does not stare at his fiancee’s arse at all. Mostly.

“Guess I’m not wife material, Price. Looks like you’re getting the shitty end of this deal.” You shoot him a cheeky grin once you’re on the main floor, and he’s glad it looks mostly genuine. You’re easier to deal with when you’re bantering, not whatever that was back there. “Jus’ bought ya for some guns, sweetheart. Not lookin’ good on the husband front, either.” You roll your eyes, biting your cheek so he doesn’t sense a laugh. The whole group is at the door now, awkwardly standing on opposite sides of the room as the two of you talk. Is this what your wedding will be like?

“I’ll, uh, see you Saturday.” At our wedding. To each other. Jesus, this is a bleak future he’s thinking of.

“See you Saturday, John.” You stand in the center of your store. Sunlight is streaming through the windows as the sun goes down, and if John were a different man, he’d tell you you look beautiful. He’d kiss your cheek, then your forehead, assuring you that your years of spats were just a form of foreplay. He’d squeeze your shoulder in reassurance, murmur a sweet nothing in your ear. Fortunately, or unfortunately, John is not that man.

“Remember, somethin’ borrowed, somethin’ blue.” He winks but there’s no charm behind it. He thinks.

“Something old, something new. A sixpence in your shoe.” You whisper it just to him, like a secret, and then turn away. Like he was never there.

John turns away, feeling oddly flustered, and doesn’t catch Gaz’s eye as they leave. He avoids Gaz’s gaze as he shakes Ghost’s and Soap’s hands. He’s still avoiding it when they get into the car, Laswell splitting off to her own chartered vehicle. It’s only when the doors close his right-hand man decides to speak.

“You’re fucked.” He says it sternly, like a teacher scolding his student. The kid’s a decade younger than John but acts like he’s his father.

“Piss off.” He’s got no idea what he’s talking about. There’s nothing between you and John. That bridge has been burned, ashes turning to dust in the wind.

Of that, he’s almost sure.

-

I hope the background wasn’t too boring! Stay tuned for a chaotic wedding week 😁lmk if you want to be tagged (please remember this is 18+)

-

@heretoreadanddrinktea

@peachyxrosie

@joufrance

@galactict3a

@exactlyyoungchaos

@trulovekay

@alleycc

@abox-of-rocks

@orangehibiscus

[rafesangelita]

Rafe x reader x Barry threesome??

warnings: dealer!rafe, arguing, threesome, dubcon, face sitting, oral (m & f. receiving), barry is so sleazy in this

“this isn’t all my money, country club.” barry ran a hand down his face, pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. rafe was quick with his response, an uneasy feeling settling over you. “look, there’s a party tomorrow night back on figure eight, if you could lend me something to flip i’ll have the rest of your paper, plus interest, alright?” barry shook his head, feeling for the gun he had in the waistband of his shorts.

rafe’s eyes traveled down to where the metal glinted under the dim light of barry’s trailer. “come on, man, i got my girl here.” your boyfriend took a seat next to you, pulling you into his side. “calm down with the gun, barry, forreal.” you glanced up, only to see rafe’s business partner already looking at you. “i got bills to pay, rafe, and i need to collect.” he sat back in his chair, a smirk forming on his lips.

“you didn’t tell me your girl was so pretty.. what is that? ‘that lace?” you looked down at your stockings that peeked out from under your skirt, nodding as rafe fixed your bottoms so barry couldn’t look at you anymore. “just let us leave from here and we won’t have any problems, i’ll bring you your money asap and we could go on with our business.” rafe wanted nothing more than to gouge barry’s eyes out of his skull for looking at any other part of you besides your face.

“m’afraid i can’t do that, country club.” rafe scoffed, getting up from the dingy couch before pulling you up with him. “fuck you, man, we’re outta here. c’mon, baby-” barry chuckled, “i wouldn’t do that if i were you, unless you want to be gunned down as soon as you open that door. ‘would be a shame if your little girlfriend was left here all by herself..” you shivered at his words, both you and rafe exchanging looks.

“do you fuckin’ hear yourself? i told you i don’t have the rest of your money, barry. what do you want?” rafe watched as barry’s eyes moved over to you, basically sizing you up as he motioned his head in your direction. “her.” rafe stared blankly at the man in front of him, the gears in his head turning. “i could kill you right now.” you swallowed nervously, eyeing rafe as his face began to redden.

“yeah? so could i.” your heart dropped when you heard the metal click of barry’s gun. “no!” you cut in, both men zeroing in on you. “there’s no need for that.. barry.” rafe looked confused as you got closer to him, “please don’t do that.” you met rafe’s gaze, your own eyes brimming with tears. “i’m not letting this fucker touch you-” he grabbed your wrist pulling you back before barry could do anything.

“he said he was going to shoot you!” you whispered, nearly losing your footing. rafe knew barry wasn’t playing, he’d do anything if money was involved, even if that meant killing his partner. “just let him, rafe..” your voice broke rafe’s heart in two, the look on your face forever ingrained in his brain. “no.” he shook his head. you turned towards barry anyways. “i’ll do it, but only under one condition.”

both men waited with uneven breaths. “rafe has to join us.” at yours words, barry glanced at your boyfriend behind you. “fuck no.” he got up, about to reach for you before rafe got in the way. “i can’t do it without him.” you shook your head, hiding behind rafe. barry huffed, shooting daggers in rafe’s direction. “fine.” you clung to rafe’s arm, a chill running down your spine as barry motioned both of you towards the hallway.

“after you.”

if someone told you, you’d be sitting on barry’s face while rafe shoved his cock down your throat as a solution for missing payment, you wouldn’t believe them. “son of a bitch, you’re one lucky bastard, country club. she’s so fucking sweet.” both you and rafe ignored barry’s words, a groan rumbling from rafe’s chest when he felt you swallow around him. your hips moved languidly against barry’s mouth, the tip of his nose nudging your clit.

in a way this wasn’t so bad. with barry underneath you, and your view only being rafe’s pleasure filled face, it was easy to pretend like the man wasn’t even there. since you didn’t let barry take you the way he wanted to, he settled for fucking his fist while eating you like a man starved. you couldn’t deny the way barry’s tongue worked skillfully on your soaked cunt, but it was nowhere near as good as the way of your boyfriend’s.

you looked down when you felt barry’s bruising grip on your thigh, a whimper leaving your lips at the pain. rafe swore to himself he was going to punch barry when he least expected it as pay back for hurting you. softly tugging on the roots of your hair, rafe mumbled a ‘keep your eyes on me, baby’ as he felt himself nearing his climax. “fuck..” barry grunted, spilling his load in his hand while working to make you cum on his tongue.

you cried out when barry sucked your clit, your hips stuttering as your orgasm hit you in waves of ecstasy. rafe followed suit, his jaw going slack as he painted the inside of your mouth with his cum, his fingertips threading themselves in your hair to keep you in place. swallowing rafe’s load was second nature to you and it drove him crazy. you sighed through your nose, rafe moving your mouth off of his cock.

he quickly pulled up his jeans, adjusting his belt before pulling you off of barry’s face. “there, asshole. you don’t get to relish in it afterwards.” your legs were still shaking from the aftershocks of your orgasm, your boyfriend dressing you as barry laid there on his bed. he looked like he was coming down from the best high he ever had, even licking the remnants of you from his lips. “you okay?” rafe cupped your face, stroking your chin. “mhmm.” you hummed, ready to get out of barry’s trailer already.

“consider yourself debt free.” barry sat up, “but next time you’re short, i’m fucking her.”

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism Boys - Meeting Your Parents

G/N. Headcanons on what your parents would think. Goo, Jake, Gun, Samuel, Ryuhei. Masterlists

Both are absolutely two sides of the same coin. Either way, your parents will be so charmed by Goo or Jake that they wish they were the ones dating him instead.

Goo is hilarious. In a mean bitchy way, that even though he is laughing at other people rather than with - he's laughing with your parents at other people so this slips pass their radar.

They are caught up with his quips and sharp tongue and honeyed words that they happily go along with this ride, trading numerous inside jokes by the end of the meeting, giggling together like a bunch of school children.

It helps that he's also dressed head to toe in hard to miss designer labels, and brings lavish gifts for them too. No, their affection and approval can't be bought but well, it doesn't hurt to try.

Jake is the son your parents wish they had, insult to their actual sons be damned. Or the person they wish they had met if they were twenty years younger, sexuality be damned.

And yes, Jake would pull out the cheesy lines like (gesturing to your mother) "Y/N, you didn't tell me you had a sister!" and dad jokes to your own dad. He would be so insufferably charming about it that it would inevitably work and win them over in no time at all.

Unlike Goo, so what if Jake's finances are tight right now? And his prospects are a little questionable? He clearly loves you and is a Good Guy. You two are young, he can work that out in due course.

There's a powerful aura emitting from Gun and your parents don't know what to make of it. Is it ok that you're seemingly with this dangerous man? With the unusual eyes and scar between his eyes?

This would have put their backs up more but Gun, to your surprise, is capable of showing exceptional manners. He is super respectful in their presence. Deep bows, good etiquette, and formal honorifics. They can't help but be reassured that if he is this respectful of them, then surely he will be of you.

Gun's demeanour is generally stiff and serious. He's quiet and doesn't talk much, though they don't miss the way he softens when he looks at you. Nor his patience when you revert back to being a sulky child when you're in your parent's presence too long.

They approve, mostly. But will always be a little uneasy around Gun.

At first glance, or first meeting, Samuel is clearly a guy that thinks a lot about himself. Unfortunately it shows to your parents too.

To his credit, his ego and confidence is inflated but the way he treats you is surprisingly tender. And despite the pedestal he sometimes likes to put himself on, he puts you on an even higher pedestal. Which can be both positive and negative. To your parents though, it's good that he obviously treats you well.

Sammy does turn on the charm a little, walking the thin line between flattering and smarmy - a bit like how he is with Eugene. Most of all, your parents are impressed with his prospects (something Jake, unfortunately, lacks).

Excellent career prospects, property, assets, finance. Even if he is a bit up his own ass, at least he can look after you.

Ryuhei has never ever met a partner's parent, and it shows with how tense he is. A complete surprise for you to see your happy-go-lucky puppy so anxious.

He relaxes each time you give him a small smile or squeeze his hand in a comforting gesture.

Your parents, to be honest, don't think much of him. Not to say they think he's bad for you, they just don't form much of an opinion of him during the first meeting.

The second meeting, however: 'Poor guy,' your parents think. He is wrapped around your finger and he's too head over heels to even kick up a fuss whenever you're being unreasonable or bratty.

He tries to charm them, which is a bit hit and miss but it's so so obvious how much he adores you and hangs on to your every word that even they become a bit worried about his well being and you taking advantage of him.

Not that you would... maybe.

[mckinlily]

Imagine a world where Bruce Wayne did not become Batman. Instead, he is just a Normal Dude. Or as normal as a billionaire deeply dedicated philanthropy in a city as insane as Gotham can be.

Because make no mistake: just because Bruce is not Batman does not mean Gotham is not Gotham.

There are a few new players though—on the Rogues side.

Timothy Drake is the teen business tycoon of Drake Industries. Absent of the inspiration of Batman and the socialization and warmth of Dick Grayson, he is ruthless and logical to a fault in pursuit of his goals and just as viciously chaotic as the disaster little brother Jason knows.

In other words, he’s Gotham’s youngest supervillian. The only good news is his chosen nemesis is Lex Luthor. Maybe. Timothy doesn’t care much about collateral damage. It’s not his goal to harm civilians, but he certainly doesn’t include their safety as a priority in his convoluted schemes to mess with Luthor.

Talon is an undead murderer who slaughtered a huge swath the Gotham’s 1% five years ago and, despite being spotted many times since, has never been apprehended. He appears when he wants and disappears just as readily, and Gotham just has to accept there’s a killer stalking their streets and there’s nothing they can do about it. Sometimes Talon has been known to rescue people, especially, but it’s never clear how or why exactly Talon chooses who is victim verses aggressor. And the end is always brutal and bloody for those Talon deems aggressor.

Damian is still Bruce’s biological son and raised by Talia in the League of Assassins. But when he was left in Gotham and met his father, this Bruce was so baffled and thrown by a child assassin that Damian immediately takes as rejection and runs away. (He doesn’t even stay long enough for Bruce to be sure it wasn’t a hallucination or very strange dream).

Damian is almost immediately found and adopted by Talon, so now Gotham has TWO bird-themed killers liable to jump down on you from nowhere and for any reason.

Oh, and god help you if you so much as make Talon’s baby Owlet sad. If you’re lucky, it will be the last thing you do.

Barbara is an ordinary librarian…who can be hired as a mercenary hacker for the right price. The public isn’t afraid of her because they don’t know she exists. More than one politician or public figure has been ruined because of the blackmail she unearthed on them. But what side exactly is the police commissioner’s daughter on? And how much of Gotham does she have under thumb?

(Is she a secret ally and accessory to Timothy Drake’s many plots?)

Steph, thank god, is actually NOT a villain, super or otherwise. She’s the one vigilante attempting to help Gotham. Spoiler has connections among some of the caped community like Supergirl or Wonder Girl. But without Bat training or the police cooperation forged years ago by Batman, she’s mostly just striving to survive while taking on Gotham’s many, many gang. Make no mistake, she’s impressive. But desperate. Spoiler comes with guns and explosions. So. Many. Explosions. Gotham has never heard of the “no kill” rule. And likely never will.

(Cass also lives in Gotham. But no one will ever see her or even know she’s there.)

Jason….well. Baby Jason never stole any Batmobile tires and never was adopted by a strange but kind billionaire. He was never killed at 15.

He died in the winter before he turned 13.

And then one day, Adult Canon Jason gets thrown into this dimension. And somehow Gothan is WORSE?! How is that even possible? Also his siblings are running around being super villains and killing people? Bruce! Control your children!!

But this Bruce does not have children (he’s still mostly convinced Damian was a prank or hallucination). He is horrified by the idea of children fighting crime. He has absolutely no idea how to handle exceptionally talented chaos machines with too much passion and no sense of self preservation. And he’s frankly a little disturbed by Jason himself and his guns and refusal to “work within the system” and Jason nopes out of there so freaking fast.

Jason also, slowly, has to become okay with the realization that his siblings are not insane because they were made Robin. They became Robin because they were already insane. There was no way to create a normal human being out of any of them.

(Jason does not want to look too closely at what that says about him.)

In the end, Jason teams up with Steph. He connects her with Dick/Talon, who is more than happy to have a new Owlet to train and preen, and Damian only slightly stabs her. They manage to persuade/threaten Tim into caring enough to help get Jason back to his dimension with misuse of Drake Industry research equipment. Damian very much does stab Tim. Tim retaliates by locking Damian in an industrial freezer. Dick thinks they’re bonding. Jason introduces them to Babs, but frankly he has no idea what he’s hoping to achieve from this. Probably nothing good because Dick, despite being an under-socialized undead assassin with some weird mannerisms and ways of speaking, still manages to pull a woman way out his league like Barbie. And Babs seems to have no problem with the “murder” part that description.

Jason never realized how much Bruce’s strict moral code and “the Mission” were key to the rest of them becoming remotely positive influences in society. Or how little Bruce has to do with his siblings getting into dangerous, violent situation. He doesn’t like anything about it.

They work out how send Jason back, and he returns to his dimension with the feeling he’s just left Alternate Gotham to a gang of supervillains.

…at least they’re together?

And Talon Dick won’t let any of his new Owlets die and will rain bloody vengeance on anyone who tries. So that’s good. For them at least.

(Jason feels absurdly like he should be apologizing to this universe’s Bruce. Or. Someone. He doesn’t. But he feels like he should.)

Back at in his dimension and at the Batcave, Jason pauses and just stares at Batman for a very, very long time. Finally, he takes a deep breath and solemnly nods just once before taking off into the Manor for Alfred’s cookies.

Bruce has no idea what the fuck just happened.

[doppopoppo]

LaD Men and their Kids

Warnings: just a minor suggestive part in Sylus's

Just a random HC of what their first child would be and be like :) for funsies

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

Xavier:

- a son, his precious twinkling star 🥹

- looks like Xavier, has UR personality

- either works with his baby boy to protect MC or competes with him to have UR attention, no in-between

- Jeremiah the babysitter

- Congrats, U have two golden retrievers now :)

- looks up to Xavier and trains young in fighting

- attempts to not spoil him, but ends up giving into his puppy dog eyes. Xavier now knows how you felt all those years he's given them to you lol

Zayne:

- Twin boys, his precious snowflakes. 🤗

- Both look like you, and he's very happy about that! Older son has your personality, while younger twin has Zaynes.

- Can see him encouraging them to dabble both in STEM and creative fields.

- Spoils them but to a healthy extent. Mainly through quality time. Gifts if he can't be there for a playdate.

- Ideal husband and definitely ideal father, the boys 100% loves him more 😭 .

- Tara usually babysits

Rafayel:

- fraternal twins!!! His precious pearls 🥺

- a good combination of you both! Has his hair color and eyes while everything else came from you

- loves both of them, but his younger daughter is definitely daddy's girl. While older son is mommy's boy

- dramatic af like him. Never a quiet household. I dun know if you're lucky or in a need of a vacation

- eager to find out if they're half human and half mermaid

- Thomas the babysitter

- has a whole art gallery show full of paintings of you and the babies

- spoiled brats just like the dad

Sylus:

- A GIRL! His new kitten 🥰 literally

- his white hair and your eyes

- spoiled spoiled spoiled spoiled

- DADDYS PRINCESS (you're his queen now dw, kitten) can't sing

- does whatever she wants to whoever she wants cuz her daddy can fight

- Mephisto, Luke and Kieran becomes her babysitters (the twins wish he had twins)

- you love how attentive of a dad he is, but lowkey get jealous cuz all that used to be just for you :( but daddy always makes it up :)

- made it clear she's marrying Sylus when she grows up

- into guns

- "sweetie what do you have there?"

- "a gun :D"

- "NO!"

[ms-dead-inside]

WHY IZUKU BEING BORN QUIRKLESS IS A POINT FOR DAD FOR ONE:

Now, I'm not saying that I'm a die-hard DFO believer. I think that the theory is fun, and as a joke, I told my friend that if Izuku's father wasn't introduced by the end of the manga then DFO was officially canon by process of elimination. I'm just here to give my opinion about one of the main points people claim disproves DFO: Izuku being born quirkless. I would argue that Izuku being born quirkless, rather than having his quirk stolen as an infant, gives more credibility to the DFO theory.

For starters, when Izuku is told he in the first episode by the doctor (who is obviously AFO's doctor) that he's quirkless and is shown the x-ray of his foot, the doctor says a line (and I'm paraphrasing here) about how "it was virtually unheard of for a child born from two fourth-generation quirk users to be quirkless." The doctor could potentially be lying, but that is very unlikely. Even if he's evil, there's no reason for him to lie in that scenario: Quirks have been around for over a century by then, and lying about something that could be so easily disproven would be moronic.

So, with the belief that he was telling the truth, then it gives more insight into how quirks work. Quirks, in some way, shape, or form, are genetic. It's why quirk marriages were a thing. It's why Katsuki was the unbelievably lucky mix of both his parents' quirks, allowing him to make explosions. It's why Tsuyu's whole family looks froglike. Quirks aren't magically bestowed upon people like Celestia with visions: it's passed down genetically. Quirks are formed from a genetic mutation. This means that based on what the doctor said, quirks are a dominant allele.

To give a basic recap in biology: each gene has two alleles, one from each parent. Genes are what give you your appearance and more: whether your eyes are blue or brown. If you'll be blonde, brunette, or end up as a redhead. If you are more susceptible to different health problems like stroke or Alzheimer's. Alleles, on the other hand, can be either "dominant" or "recessive." "Dominant" alleles need only one parent to transfer it to the child for the trait to show up. "Recessive" alleles, on the other hand, require the allele from both parents to show up in the child. For example, curly hair is dominant over straight hair. If you use 'A' to describe the allele for curly hair and 'a' to describe the allele for straight hair, then it could be looked at as this:

AA= curly hair

Aa= curly hair (dominant allele present)

aa= straight hair (both recessive alleles present)

This means that quirks show up when through a dominant allele. The mention of "fourth-generation quirk users" implies that two quirked parents can give birth to a quirkless individual. That wouldn't be possible if quirks were a recessive allele. Therefore, if both of Izuku's parents were fourth-generation, then it is technically possible for Izuku's ancestors to have passed on the recessive quirklessness through the generations. And Izuku just happened to be the unlucky son of a gun who lost the genetic lottery.

But do you know what this means? It means that it doesn't disprove DFO in the slightest. In fact, having a parent who is a first-generation quirk user adds to the credibility. Canon shows that AFO was the first person who had a quirk. While Izuku is still unlucky on his mother's side of the genetic lottery, having a dad who automatically has a recessive allele makes his quirklessness much more likely.

In conclusion: Izuku being born quirkless just adds to the Dad for one theory. Thank you for coming to my TED Talk.

[reveluving]

Hello how are you? 😊 I have something in mind for the movie triple frontier 

Like imagine Ben Miller x girlfriend shy reader and both your infant son is a mommy boy, waiting Ben after the MMA fights, being both his good luck charms

a/n: Baby, I've been busy. But overall? Pretty swell, thank you for asking! And this ask? A Benny ask with a shy!reader? With a child??? FAWK, it made my entire WEEK(S), so I cannot thank you enough! 😭❤️ Hope you don't mind me making them husband & wife instead, and take care!

warnings: lovestruck benny, fluffy family-focused, brief mma-level violence & explicit language!

» fancy reading another triple frontier fic? check out the m.list!

“Alright, alright, make way, comin’ through.” Frankie demanded, with him on the left and Santiago on the right as they kept you in the middle.

The two stayed vigilant, ensuring no one was close enough to bump into you, let alone your bundle of joy slung to your chest. When one did stand too close, despite accidentally, Santiago hissed, “Watch it.”

You chuckled, already used to their rugged behaviour because it was all to keep you unharmed.

Completely unharmed.

Despite the curious eyes that weighed on you, yours remained on his—Bubba’s, rubbing his back and making silly faces at him, with him none the wiser of anything beyond his mother’s presence, given the baby earmuffs on him. Instead, he reacted to your attention excitedly, displaying his gummy smile.

Will was already at the front row seats when you arrived, giving you a side hug and asking you about your and Bubba’s wellbeing like the protective brother-in-law he was.

“Hey, lil’ man, you hangin’ in there?” Will smiled at his nephew. Despite the earmuffs, he immediately recognized his uncle and squirmed against your chest, gurgling. Will, letting out a deep and hearty laugh, gently ruffled Bubba’s baby hair before offering to hold him, “C’mon.”

You loosened the carrier, and Will took Bubba into his arms, and as if on cue, in came the boisterous announcement on the microphone, “I bring you, Ben Miller!”

Many cheered, some booed, but you? You just couldn’t wipe the lovestruck smile on your face, watching him enter the arena, carrying himself with sheer confidence that whether one was a fan or not, they couldn’t deny the aura he exuded. 

If anything, Benny basked in the jeers, because his wins, many in a row, said it all. Plus, he was the lucky son of a gun blessed with a wife to die for, a son he couldn’t be any prouder of, and the best ride-or-die group in his circle. He couldn’t ask for more than that.

He looked past the crowd’s outstretched hands for taps and middle fingers of his rivals’ fans, searching for the eyes that would hold so much love for him, like he had hung the moon for her—for you—which he found amusing because he would stare at you the same way, though, bolder than your bashfulness could muster.

It wouldn’t take long to find you, kudos to his brother for saving the front-row seats way earlier, and he made sure to keep his eyes on you as he took off his shirt. Tossing the fabric onto the seats near you, he immediately pulled you into his chest, his smile widening upon watching a shy one gracing your lips, even more so as the spectators whooped at the mushy display.

He greeted you with that flirty tone of his, “You taken, pretty girl?”

Benny’s smile morphed into a grin, pumped up like the tournament was nothing more than another typical Tuesday to conquer and bring home victory to his beloved family. 

The uncontrollable bundle of excitement in his brother’s arms caught his eye, and Benny was quick to scoop his son into his arms. 

Benny couldn't be any happier, being in his element with the people he truly cared for. With his son in one arm, the other around you. He let Bubba tap his little pudgy hands on his stubbled face, his babbles of ‘ma ma ma’ soothing like a balm, before kissing his forehead, then turned his attention to you.

“Watch me.” He whispered in your ear.

“Always.” You replied, kissing his cheek, and Benny quickly closed the gap between you for a kiss. Benny, with his bulky boxing glove, had the courtesy to block the view of where your lips touched from the crowd, giving you some sense of privacy, despite the knowing cheers from the onlookers.

He couldn't help with his own amusement, seeing you press your face into his shoulder before planting a little kiss on his son's forehead, and just like that, his good luck charm, despite already being activated from the moment you walked in with Bubba, was now cranked to the max.

Ever the charmer, Benny flexed his muscles for you, even as he ascended the steps and into the cage backwards, and even then, even as he faced his rival, the smile never left his face. Just more… evil. More sinister, like he had already seen the outcome of the fight, and as he delivered the first sharp swing, Benny knew, like usual, his good luck charm has never, and will never fail him.

His focus only strayed during the one-minute breaks, looking over to see you holding Bubba, his little tiger, giving him reassuring smiles and mouthing ‘I love you’s and ‘you can do it’s, and he believed you. 

He always does.

And Bubba? Oh, Bubba, watching the little man bounce on your lap like there was no tomorrow, not only having his sweet mother holding him close but also watching his father being cool. Who cares about a bunch of guys heckling him beyond the cage when he had his son’s support?

Before he knew it, with determination coursing through his veins, plus his rival’s attempts to embarrass him for being a softie before the fight rang in his head, the announcer hailed Benny as the winner and raised his arm, prompting the spectators to go wild the same way they did when he knocked his opponent out. 

And even with his weary muscles and bones, he sought after you, just like you did him, Carelessly throwing the towel he used to wipe his sweat to the side to meet you in the middle for a kiss. He sighed as he pulled you against him, only breaking the kiss when Frankie and Pope approached, plus Will with Bubba before passing him to his brother.

Bubba giggled as Benny rubbed his forehead against his, then made grabby hands for you. Benny chuckled, “Always wants his mama, just like his old man.”

You smiled warmly, picking Bubba up before snuggling into your husband’s side and partially hiding from the crowd, “Clingy boys.”

“Your clingy boys.” He corrected with a grin before leaning in for another kiss.

Benny could have all the wins he could want, if and only if he did it all for you.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

a/n: I enjoyed making this so, so, so, so damn much, it only took me a day HEHE! Don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

[4mrplumi]

ZERO (i) : SCAVENGERY . (ms/next)

-> plot synopsis - you don't think you're as odd and horrifying as the news makes you out to be. but you have never much cared for the validation of others, and certainly not theirs.

-> batfamily x serial killer reader. playlist (wip) ask 2b added to taglist

-> tw; gn reader, guns, referenced assault, violence, toxic relationships, eventual fem love interest, bug taxidermy, unhealthy coping mechanisms, murder, sociopathic tendencies, full on master list.

> a/n; horribly in love with the idea of a self-sufficient classy mean judge. reblogs and interactions appreciated!! a lot (●'◡'●)

in fact, you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition, their thanks.

you won’t say you’re not petty, not childish, not absurd and not disgusting for what you’re doing, but you’ve heard it innumerable times before, and don’t mind it now. in a matter of days, the limits you’ve placed on yourself have become the bane of your existence.

bright, technicoloured posters with you favourite bands and characters hang on the walls, music playing merrily on a small portable speaker you’d bought with your self-earned pocket money. it all provided the perfect image of a regular teenager, to the extent that you weren’t really creating a civilian identity like your family, but living through it. normally.

it makes you giddy, and you know it shouldn’t, to be so unsuspecting. your grades are mediocre, but your teachers praise your work, you’re not popular enough to go be invited to every party, but enough to be friends with three quarters of the grade, not dedicated enough to a franchise to know it super well, but still enjoy it through multiple perspectives. normal, exceptional, and normal.

that’s what makes it all the more rewarding to do what you do. since being adopted at eleven, you’ve pieced together the caped identities of the monolith you call your family with lovely colour-coded pin boards and pictures. you know they escape into the night to fight not criminals, but fight crime, beating and getting beat in the process.

you think it’s tedious, but you never comment. there’s not much you remember prior to coming into the manor, except the raw experiences from fleeing cheerfully down unkempt, spray painted, molding stairway chambers with your friends away from an angry neighbour, laughing the whole way down. sharing fries for one among six to seven people, since money was hard to get by and harder to go around and listening to the one person who could afford school talk about it. pushing your friends on the swings and them tying your laces in return, since the swings were too far from the ground to push yourself, and scratchy velcro was for “sissies”.

you could say your childhood was rugged, but fairly kind for a gothamite. you weren’t given the life of a gilded richman’s son like tim, or the hard street crime life of jason. you weren’t raised by assassins or masters like damian and cassandra, not clever and determined like duke, not gifted with athleticism like dick. normal, incredibly. lucky, even.

you cannot think of anyone when you think of family. you considered your group of friends (acquaintances does your relationship better justice, but at ten, everyone was a friend if they didn’t wear a badge and a cap) family, but you knew that’s not what the word meant. they’d go back home to fighting parents, single mothers, thieving fathers, earning siblings or aging aunts and uncles. you would go home to a quiet one-room apartment and a poor quality mattress.

it’s not fair to say you weren’t cared for. the neighbourhood considered you their darling child, your friends’ parents sending you food, aunties reading you stories and elderly residents providing comfort when you wanted the rare support of an adult. but you had no family because by your accord, you would have to return home to them for someone to be family.

it’s the opposite now. you return home from school to bruce wayne and his entourage of misplaced children, but your interactions are stiff as stone. you go out to diners and have the most soulless conversations, stay in the house and refuse to partake in their exchanges.

because you are different. their morals are aligned to your guardian’s, of justice and strength and so on, so on. your morals are aligned with your survival, no one else's, selfish, scavenging. you cannot get along on a base value, because you don’t belong to their nest of canaries. you are, as a silly buzzfeed quiz at five in the morning said, a shrike.

yet still, you seeked the warmth of family. the resurgence of that feeling you once had in your old life. you could never return, having now experienced the fruits of luxury, having lived too far from “home” for far too long, with the added weight of a bruce wayne shaped shadow that followed you. the immense danger it would bring to yourself and those around you would be preposterous, unimaginable, but no more horrifying than the awkwardness you'd receive from you old not-family. scrutinising stares, untrusting glances, forced waves. no, no, it wouldn’t do. you don’t want to feel miserable. 

it’s enough that your presumed family already gives you those looks. sneers from damian, concerned glances from cassandra, brief unease from dick, ignorance from tim, you could go on and on and on. and you’re not stupid. you only have yourself to blame.

your vanity, as the buzzfeed quiz had said, in curling cursive font that sometimes turned to boxes on the ui, presented itself as a horrifying ignorance. unlike a peacock’s gushing beauty, your pretty-factor extended only as far into first impressions. when someone gets closer, enough to see the white of your eyes, they shrink away.

crude comments, satirical dismissal, and sharp judgement are things that have, in air quotes, made you unlikable. when watching a documentary about bug-taxidermy on one of the tvs, damian had walked in and commented on the generous “inhumanity” of it. instead of justifying the practice with explanations of how ethical it was, you’d scoffed and called him dramatic. he antagonised you, and you couldn't care less.

mean things left your mouth without hesitation, “who cares” and “you’re doing too much” at the simplest things. but you didn’t do it on purpose. growing up, kindness was reserved only for people in your circle, barterers of goods and generosity. you were polite to the old ladies who brought you food, nice to the new kid who looked at you for guidance, and offered support to people who’d offered that to you too.

you had no obligation to be kind to the wayne household. they had done nothing for you, other than pulling you out of a blood stained alley and providing you a home you didn’t ask for. you weren’t let in on their family bonds and not given the chance to create mutual trust with them, and were not keen on it after their whitewashed kidnapping either. 

perhaps you had the frayed edges of low-class living from gotham’s alleys, but you also had firmly set, stich, stern and strict guidelines about your behaviour. you would not make the first move, and you would not do more than fulfill debts. one favour for another, never more.

that’s what makes your secretive secret side job exhilarating. you have no need to do what you do, except for a sense of duty. the term itself, obligation, is unfamiliar, exciting. like many, but not the majority, the batman and his menagerie’s morals seem too high standing for the crevices of gotham’s underworld. only the red hood can relate, and even he is too far from the truth in your eyes.

death was a permanent solution to the wrongs of people. but you could not simply just wipe out a criminal from the street and call it a day. the only striking similarity between you and bruce wayne, was that the two of you didn’t fight criminals, but fought crime. you snuffed it out as it started hinting at the surface, not waiting for a track record or a ticket list on a license. nothing was forgiven, because you were not obliged to forgive.

you did not forgive, but did excuse. the theft of food, the death of someone too touchy, the fractured ribs of a parent too cruel, were excused. because like you, the suspect, the criminal, was also simply bartering. a favour for a favour, a wicked death for a wicked life. they would be let off from your radar, until someone else got to them. you were not obliged to save them. you are duty-bound only to rid. 

out of habit really, you resorted to violence. seeing a lady bothered by a fellow too close a few months back, you did what came naturally without the supervision of domineering adults and officers and shot him point blank. for a second, the woman stilled, painted in blood from the spray that arced to her, before screaming in horror and fleeing, without so much as a glance in your direction. 

you were unperturbed by the lack of thanks, with a hint of humour at the thought, since it meant you were not indebted to her and she was not to you. 

but it’s the realisation that comes shortly after, that a fine or a scolding would not similarly scare away the man, and he was now well taken care of. and you think of the other scummy people hiding gotham’s crowded basements, and think of their freedom. it makes you angry, it always has, truly it does. death was not an uncommon occurrence in gotham, the murders and abductions, cruelty and pain all as abundant as the trash, poverty and crime within the city. why was it only an offense when it came to the people who perpetuated it?

comfort does little to save victims. a bag of cash and a pat on the back will not rid them of their memories, sadness, or their losses. you are neither sympathetic nor can you relate, but you are angry. have been angry. on their behalf. the world is a rotten and sick place, and this city is especially so. and while batman is a poor janitor, the red hood one too late, and the monolith of your family too distant, you are decided. you’ll wash this place clean like a broken truck, knowing it’ll never work again, but look pretty as it remains.

and you, a good-for-nothing, always scorning, useless kid, are unsuspecting. you are grateful for their ignorance. you do not need their recognition or their thanks.

> a/n i think this is a solid part one for a prologue bit. the crow choir series is getting a bit neglected because i want to think over its intricacies a bit better. in contrast, this is a very kick and throw kind of plot line, more fun to write for.

i've been super nervous to post on tumblr but am enjoying it. hopefully will upload the next bits soon, interactions so very very appreciated! esp ideas in comments or asks, because it makes me feel like i'm not wiling away the time i should use for other things (T_T) overall just feels nice too.

thank you for reading!!

[make-me-imagine]

Something Perfect, Something New

Plot: Geon-Woo and Woojin hit it off with the new server at Geon-Woo's mothers cafe, more than any of them are expecting.

Pairing: Geon-Woo x Gn!Reader x Woojin

Request: reader recently moving to Korea (you don’t have to be specific about where she’s from) and taking on a job as a barista in Gun-woo’s mum’s cafe? (I’d imagine she has bigger aspirations later on but we all need to start somewhere, right?) And while the dude bros pay a visit to Gun-woo’s mum they also meet her and hit it off? This can evolve into something romantic for sure ✨

Requested by: @auraee

Warnings: Mentions of being followed/stalked towards the end, creepy guy. but don't worry Geon-woo and Woojin come to the rescue. References to a Poly-Relationship.

A/n's: I hope you meant for this to elude to a poly relationship because that's what happened! lol I see Geon-Woo's name spelled different all the time so I hope I went with the correct spelling (its geon-woo in show descriptions, and gun-woo in translations, but idk which one it really is) I started writing this a few months ago and just came back to it, so if you notice a change in tone or vibes halfway through that's why.

Words: ~4.4k

You smiled brightly at a couple leaving the cafe as you said goodbye. The evening was drawing near, as was the end of your first week at your new job.

After making the sudden, and quite terrifying decision to leave everything behind and move to Seoul to start over, you landed a job at a cafe.

The owner, Yoo So-Yeon had been gone for a while after her cafe was nearly destroyed by debt collectors. She had told you about how her son and his best-friend helped her, and she finally felt secure enough to come back. Though she didn't give much detail, you could tell the ordeal had a toll on her and her family.

You had heard she needed help after re-opening and were lucky enough to land the job. Now you were settling in and trying to discover yourself all over again.

"Quite a busy day today huh?" Mrs. Yoo said with a smile as she walked past you.

You nodded as you finished cleaning off a table, "Nothing we can't handle though."

She let out a soft laugh as she patted your shoulder. She was fond of you, and you of her. She helped you get settled into the unfamiliar city, and had even cooked for you various times. You were glad you met her.

Hearing the cafe door open you glanced up, wondering if someone missed the 'CLOSED' sign Mrs. Yoo had just put up. Seeing two tall attractive men enter you felt your heart skip a beat.

"Ah, there you two are!" Mrs. Yoo greeted happily as she walked over to the two grinning men.

'That must be her son and his friend.'

You watched them for a minute as they spoke, before the one you assumed was Mrs. Yoo's son, due to the scar on his face she had mentioned, glanced over and caught sight of you.

You felt your heart jolt as you bowed your head lightly in greeting and smiled.

Mrs. Yoo followed Geon-Woo's line of sight and exclaimed with a small clap. "Oh, yes! You finally get to meet!"

Mrs. Yoo walked over to you before grabbing you by the wrist and leading you over to the two men.

"This is Y/n, the one who I hired to help. Y/n, this is my son Geon-Woo and this is Woojin."

You smiled at them, "It's nice to finally meet you."

The two of them bowed in greeting smiling at you. Geon-Woo had known his mother hired you, but hadn't made the trip over to meet you, seeing you now, he wished he had.

His heart was hammering in his chest, and as Woojin subtly nudged his arm, he knew his friend was feeling the same thing.

Now sitting around one of the tables, Mrs. Yoo brought over some coffee. You could feel Woojin and Geon-Woo eyeing you, and every time you looked at them they quickly looked away.

You wondered if they feared you would do Mrs. Yoo harm after all that had happened to her. But this fear of suspicion quickly faded as they started asking you questions and talking energetically, as if they were just curious about you.

Your conversation with the two men lasted almost two hours, and you tried to ignore the sly and amused looks Mrs. Yoo was giving the three of you. You couldn't help but wonder if she might try and set you up with one of them.

Eventually, Mrs. Yoo told you to go home before it got too late. The two men offered to walk you home, and after an attempted refusal that went unheard, you gave in and allowed it.

Your conversation flowed as you walked home, and by the time you got to your door, you felt as though you had known the two for ages.

Three weeks had passed since your first meeting with Geon-Woo and Woojin. You had become closer to them than you had expected in the short time you knew them. They came to the cafe almost every day, gave you tours of the city, took you out to eat, and even helped you build the new furniture you bought for your apartment.

The seemed to always be around you now, and you weren't complaining one bit, you even started to miss them after being away from them for short periods.

Mrs. Yoo teased you about them being your boyfriends. You thought she just enjoyed the way it made you bashful and embarrassed. You hadn't quite understood just how serious she was yet.

On the outside, it was nearly impossible to tell who you were dating between them, if either, or both.

It was obvious something was developing between the three of you, but what, you weren't quite sure of yet. You were too afraid to focus on the 'what ifs' that you ignored what was already happening.

Woojin sighed as he stretched his arm across your shoulders, smiling at the new bed finally set up in your bedroom.

"See? Told you it would be worth it."

Goo-Wan smiled proudly as he started to open the new sheets you had bought for the bed.

"I still think it's too big." You said while eyeing the large mattress. You were glad to be rid of the air mattress you had been sleeping on, but this was...a bit much.

You missed how Goo-Wan and Woojin locked eyes as they began unraveling the absurdly large fitted sheet that would surely be a pain in the ass to put on.

You giggled at the two as they struggled to put the sheet on, each opposite corner coming undone as soon as they finished one.

When finished, they high fived in celebration before sitting on the end of the bed. As the looked at you with grins you felt you heart flutter before clearing your throat.

"You know I'm gonna make you two come over and do that every time I have to change the sheets right?"

They chuckled, sharing another look before turning towards you.

"How about some lunch?"

They nodded energetically and followed you out of the room. You promised them whatever they wanted for helping you finish setting up your apartment. It was the least you could do.

Watching Geon-Woo strategically time flipping the meat on the barbecue, you slowly sipped at your drink. You were overly aware of the nearby table of girls eyeing the two curiously as they whispered.

You hated that it annoyed you, so you tried your best to ignore it. Its not like you were dating them.

Looking away from the girls, your eyes locked with a mans at a nearby table. You involuntarily made a soft noise of shock at the sudden eye contact as the man smirked and winked at you.

You looked away quickly, but Woojin noticed the action. He looked back at the man before he gave an obvious look of annoyance as the guy continued to stare at you.

Woojin took a piece of meat and set it on top of your rice as he spoke somewhat loudly, "Here jagiya."

Your eyes shot up in surprise, as Geon-Woo quickly looked over at Woojin as well.

Woojin looked over at Geon-Woo before subtly motioning his head to the man nearby. Geon-woo looked back, seeing the man looking between you and Woojin, a somewhat amused smirk on his face before he eyed you knowingly.

Geon-Woo swallowed as his chest tightened with his own annoyance at the man, understanding what Woojin was doing. Geon-Woo, deciding to do the same, grabbed a few veggies as he placed them on your plate.

"Have some of these too jagiya."

Your mouth was now agape as Geo-Woo joined Woojin in his attempt at shooing off the stranger. You saw the girls nearby eye each other in surprise as they began whispering more.

You leaned forward as you spoke in a bewildered tone, "What are you doing?"

Woojin and Geon-Woo locked eyes for a second before they looked back at you, "Making sure that guy doesn't do anything."

You glanced at the man as he now avoided looking over at you. "What makes you think he was going to do anything?"

Woojin scoffed softy, "Oh please he was looking at you like he wanted to eat you."

You grimaced at the expression as you shook your head, making Geon-Woo and Woojin smirk.

Looking over at Geon-Woo you frowned, "Why'd you join in too? Now we're being gossiped about."

You motioned your head towards he girls who were still talking in hushed voices, but obviously about the three of you.

Geon-Woo and Woojin thought for a second before shrugging and speaking at the same time, "So?"

You stared at them bewildered, "It doesn't bother you?"

They shook they're head as Geon-Woo asked in an innocent tone, "Why would it?"

"Yeah, it's not like we're offended at the thought of dating you." Woojin added.

You felt your neck and ears grow hot, "But you made it sound like you were both dating me."

They nodded softly as if that was obvious and you blinked a few times unsure of what to say now. Woojin let out a soft laugh at your perplexed expression.

"Cute." He mumbled, making your ears burn even hotter.

You glared at him, "Don't tease me."

Geon-Woo laughed under his breath as Woojin stared at you with a challenging glare. "Make me."

You stuck your tongue out at him as you began picking at your food in an attempt to get past the almost overwhelming shyness washing over you. Geon-Woo and Woojin shared a knowing smile as they watched you in adoration.

Making it back to the cafe, you entered to find a few customers scattered around, as Mrs. Yoo had a conversation with another from behind the counter. Spotting the three of you, she waved in greeting.

Heading to the back to get your name-tag and apron, you were glad you didn't come to work during a rush, afraid you had left Mrs. Yoo to fend on her own for too long.

Coming back out, Woojin and Geon-Woo were at the counter talking with her. Seeing you she motioned you over and talked in a soft voice as she motioned to a young man in the corner.

"Your admirer is here."

You glanced at the man and let out a soft scoff, "Have you taken his order?"

"He says he wasn't ready yet. I think he was just waiting for you." She winked teasingly as you left with a soft shake of the head before heading over to the table.

Mrs. Yoo looked over at Woojin and Geon-Woo and repressed a laugh at their glare towards the man.

Woojin turned to Mrs. Yoo and spoke in a hushed and annoyed tone. "Admirer? Who is he?"

"A customer who came in once, and ever since he met Y/n has been coming every day since. But he only orders when Y/n is here."

Geon-Woo and Woojin looked back to watch you. You smiled politely at the man as you took his order. Their chests both clenched tightly as the man stared at you intensely with a smile, obviously crushing on you.

Heading back to the counter, you handed Mrs. Yoo the man's order.

"Did he ask you out yet?"

You spared a glance at Geon-Woo and Woojin and were almost thrown off by their intense stares.

You cleared your throat softly, "He asked when I was getting off work but I just told him I'm not sure. I'm not interested in him like that."

Mrs. Yoo nodded her head in understanding as she glanced at the two boys with an amused smile.

You looked over at the two and paused, "What?"

Woojin spoke with a bold tone, "You should tell him straight that you are not interested."

"I don't want to hurt his feelings."

Geon-Woo leaned closer, "He might get bolder though if you don't stop it now."

You bit the inside of your lip as you glanced back at the man, finding him looking away swiftly.

You sighed, "You're probably right."

Woojin nodded, "We are."

You looked back over at them again, noticing the change in their behavior. It was almost as if they were jealous again.

"Weren't you guys going to the gym to practice?"

Checking the time they both startled, "Ah we're gonna be late."

Woojin ruffled your hair as a goodbye as Geon-Woo went behind the counter to say goodbye to his mother before he gently squeezed your shoulder as he left. You waved goodbye to them before catching the man in the corners eye again. Your chest tightened as you felt a bit guilty at the thought of rejecting him when he hasn't even made a move. What if he just wanted a friend?

Getting back to work, you paid more attention to the customer. Noting that he stayed longer than usual, well after he had finished his food. When he eventually left, you let out a sigh of relief, suddenly realizing just how much his attention weighed on you. You hadn't noticed before, but now that you did, you felt a bit overwhelmed by it. Maybe it would be best to show your disinterest.

Flipping the sign from Open to Closed, you big farewell to Mrs. Yoo as she left, heading out to have dinner with her friends.

You kept the cafe open for longer than usual to let a group celebrate a birthday. But it meant you were now leaving after it got dark.

Checking over the cafe one more time as you shut everything off, you left the cafe and looked around at the darkened sky. Looking down the road, your heart jolted a bit as you noticed a hooded figure lingering on the corner of the road.

Seeing they were standing under a Bus Stop sign you let out a soft sigh. "Don't overreact Y/n."

Turning away, you began heading down the road towards your apartment. It was about a fifteen minute walk, and the night was cool and quiet. You took in a deep breath, picking up on the hint of barbecue nearby, reminding you of how hungry you were.

Walking past a few shops, your eyes caught on the reflection of the road behind you. Yours steps hesitated as your heart sank. The hooded figure from before was across the street from you, and walking the same direction.

You let out a steady breath as you continued walking. "Don't assume, but be cautious." You told yourself, as you kept a vigilant eye and ear out.

Noticing the figure crossing the street and remaining behind you, you decided to test your theory. At the next cross-walk you crossed the street, and your heart raced when the figure did the same. Next you turned down a road you never take, and they followed. You crossed the street again, and so did they.

Having enough, you reached into your pocket and texted your group-chat with Geon-Woo and Woojin.

"Are either of you awake?"

A moment later a text from Geon-Woo came through.

"We're at the gym, what's up?"

"I'm walking home, and I think I'm being followed."

Only a few moments passed before your phone rang. Answering it you heard their concerned voices over the line and the sound of them grabbing their stuff.

"Where are you?" "Are you okay? Why are you out so late."

Already feeling more relieved to be talking to them, you kept glancing at the reflection behind you, still seeing the figure.

"The cafe closed late because of a party. I'm getting close to that store we get our smoothies from."

You heard Geon-Woo's voice in the background, "We're about five minutes from there."

"Go into the store and stay there. Don't let them get near you okay?"

"Okay."

"Stay on the line with me."

As you got closer to the store, you could hear Woojin and Geon-Woo on the line, obviously rushing out of the gym and running. Your heart raced with adrenaline, but also gratitude of Woojin and Geon-Woos care for you. You desperately wanted them there with you now, but took relief in knowing they were coming to find you.

"I'm at the store." You said softly as you entered, sparing a glance back to see the figure was closer than before.

They hesitated as you headed inside. You hoped they wouldn't come in, or would pass by and give up on following you.

As you smiled at the cashier who barely spared you a glance, you headed to the back of the store and acted as tough you were browsing. Hearing the bell of the store as the door opened and closed, your heart dropped as you saw the hooded figure enter the store.

You made sure to keep your distance and you maneuvered through the store, grabbing a few things here and there.

You whispered into the phone, "They came in."

"We're almost there!" You heard a panting Woojin on the line.

You swallowed nervously as you rounded the corner again, the figure getting too close for comfort. Finally hearing the door of the store open with a clang you looked over to see Woojin and Geon-Woo.

You let out a sigh of relief as your body seemed to relax from the building tension in your muscles. As they hurried through the store to you, they glanced at the hooded figure who was only on isle away. The person turned away as Woojin and Geon-Woo approached you.

Woojin spoke out loud, obviously so the person would hear him. "Jagiya there you are. Sorry we're late."

As he got to you he set his hand on your shoulder and nodded. You nodded in return as Geon-Woo reached you, "Are you okay?"

You nodded at him as he gently pulled you to his chest, "Let's go okay?"

Agreeing, you headed to the front, as Geon-Woo took the things from your hand and paid for them, his arm remaining wrapped across your shoulder.

Woojin looked back at the figure and saw his eyes. His face dropped as he was sure it was the customer from the cafe. The figure quickly left the store, avoiding eye contact. Woojin's heart raced in anger as he barely resisted the urge to chase after him. but not wanting to freak you out more, he resisted, knowing he would need to do something later.

Heading back into the street, Geon-Woo and Woojin looked around for any sight of the man. Not seeing him they let out sighs.

Woojin cursed under his breath, "I knew he would do something."

You looked at Woojin in surprise. "He?"

"It was the guy from the cafe."

Your heart jolted, but it made unfortunate sense. A few days prior, you had finally made it clear to the man at the cafe that you were not interested. He asked for your number, and you rejected him. Kindly, you had hoped. But his demeanor changed, and he left silently. You hadn't seen him again since except for once, when you saw him lingering outside the cafe, looking in at you.

"You rejected him but he couldn't take it."

Woojin's words made you shudder and Geon-Woo pulled you closer. "Don't worry we'll handle it okay? I promise." Woojin nodded in agreement.

Their words consoled you as you let them walk you home, allowing them to remind you to never walk home this late without one of them being with you.

The whole way, you continued to glance around, fearing he was still lingering. Geon-Woo and Woojin feared the same, so once they got you to your apartment, they had a conversation while you were in the bathroom.

When you came back out, now in your pajamas, they had made themselves at home on the couch as Woojin ordered food over the phone.

"You're hungry right?" Geon-Woo asked and you nodded, feeling much safer knowing they were there, but fearing when they would leave.

Sitting down on the floor in front of them as you leaned on the table you looked at Geon-Woo. "Should I call the main office and ask the security to look out for him?"

Geon-Woo moved from the couch to the floor in front of you, "We already did."

You nodded, "That makes me feel better. I wont be awake all night."

Geon-Woo smiled softly, "You don't need to worry, we'll be here."

You rose your brow, "You will?"

Woojin hung up the phone and joined the two of you on the floor. "We're staying tonight, we decided."

"O-oh. I mean...that does make me feel better, but are you sure? I don't want to-"

"We want too." Geon-Woo broke in.

Woojin nodded, "We'd feel a lot better staying with you, to make sure you're safe."

You smiled, "I'd feel better too."

After you ate and watched a movie, Woojin and Geon-Woo started to get ready for bed. Meanwhile, you grabbed what extra blankets and pillows you had and began making the living room comfortable.

Geon-Woo, coming out of the bathroom and seeing you, questioned you. "What are you doing?"

"Making it more comfortable for you."

"But we're not sleeping out here."

You stopped and eyed him, "Huh? Then where?"

Hearing a noise in your bedroom, you frowned as Geon-Woo repressed a smile watching as you headed towards the sound. Turning off the lights and checking the door, he grabbed the pillows before following behind.

Finding Woojin in your bedroom, fixing the bed, you watched him in confusion.

He glanced over at you, and spotting Geon-Woo behind you and smiled. "Ah perfect."

Walking over, he took the pillows from him before setting them on the bed.

"What are you doing?"

He looked over at you, "Getting ready for bed?"

"In...my bed?"

He looked at the bed, then to you, then to Geon-Woo and back to you before nodding. "Why do you think we got you such a big mattress?"

Your mouth was agape for a moment as you tried to find words. "S- So you could sleep in the bed with me?"

He nodded as he grinned, finding your realization and bewilderment adorable. Geon-Woo walked past you and finished helping Woojin fix the bed before they both turned towards you expectantly.

You looked between them, before they motioned for you, "Come on."

Hesitantly, you approached, "Which side do you-"

"You get the middle." Woojin broke in.

"The middle?"

"You'll be safest there." Geon-Woo excused.

"And warmest." Woojin added with a smile.

You nodded mutely as you slowly climbed into the bed, your heart racing as they climbed in after. You lied on your back and stared up at the ceiling, overly aware of how close they got to you. Woojin was facing you as Geon-Woo was still sitting up against the back of the bed, looking down at you.

Your mind was still stuck on the fact that they bought you the giant bed for the purpose of sharing. Finally breaking the tense silence, you looked between them. "But you didn't know something like this would happen so why would you be prepared to have a big bed to share with me?"

They shared a glance and smiled before Woojin cleared his throat, "Are you sure you don't know why?"

Your mind flashed back to the various times they flirted, made jokes, or acted as though they were both dating you. The various comments from Mrs. Yoo about them being your boyfriends, or you being like a child to her already.

Looking between Woojin and Geon-Woo again as they smiled softly and knowingly at you, you felt your whole body get hot with embarrassment and nervousness.

Grabbing the blanket you slowly pulled it upwards until your face was hidden.

Woojin and Geon-Woo both chuckled before they climbed further into the bed. You felt them both beside you, and were sure they were facing you.

Feeling Woojin grab the blanket you tightened your grip as he tried to remove it from your head. You heard Geon-Woo chuckle softly as Woojin pulled harder.

"Jagiya" He said softly, making your heart leap.

Suddenly the blanket was yanked from your hands again and you were met with Woojin and Geon-Woo's smiling faces as they lied facing you, sandwiching you between them.

"You don't have to be scared, or worried." Geon-Woo began.

Woojin followed, "We're still figuring this out too. We never expected to meet someone we would both have such strong feelings for."

Geon-Woo reached over and gently caressed your cheek, "We want to be with you, and protect you, and make you happy. If you'll let us."

"It might take some time to get used to the idea, but we'll wait for you." Woojin finished.

You looked between them, your heart racing faster than ever before. "But what if it doesn't work out? Or what if it causes problem's between you?"

They looked at each other and shook their heads gently. Woojin met your eyes, "We've been talking about this for a while, and I really don't think that will happen. But if it starts too I promise we will work it out. We want to make this work. We want to be with you. So we'll go slowly from here okay? But we want you to know our intentions."

"Is that okay with you?" Geon-Woo asked softly.

You thought for a moment, aware of their gazes on you as they waited patiently, though nervously.

It was obvious you had developed feelings for both of them, and your fear of choosing, or being rejected had both been subdued. You weren't sure if it was going to work out. But you knew how you felt now. You adored them, and trusted them, and felt safe with them. You believed their words, and you wanted to be with them too.

Nodding slowly, you looked between them, and they smiled, relief and joy washing over them.

Woojin, overcome by his giddiness leaned forward and pressed a sloppy kiss to your cheek, making you chuckle out of surprise. Geon-Woo chuckled as well, before he leaned forward and pressed a much more delicate kiss to your temple.

After a few more adjustments, you found yourself comfortably and safely drifting to sleep as Woojin and Geon-Woo slept on either side of you, their arms draped across you as they both held you close.

xx End xx

Wasn't sure where to end it, so I chose to stop here. This became a bit of an indulgence fic, but if there is anyone who wants a part two, or continuance of this fic/relationship, let me know, I would def be willing to write it!

General Taglist: @criminaly-supernatural, @imaginesfire, @onuen, @witchygagirl, @alexxavicry,

-Taglist Form-

[mylifeisfruk4ever]

Dick: Ehi B, there’s this someone I really like...

Bruce: Mhm. Anyone would be lucky to have you, my son.

————

Damian: I think I might be in love.

Bruce: Make sure to take Dick with you as a chaperone.

Damian: Father!

————

Bruce: Please, just, FIND someone. I can’t believe your only love was a jacket!

Jason: Not true. I have another love.

Bruce Really?

Jason: GUNS!

Bruce: *Facepalm*

————

Tim: Bruce, I and Kon...

Bruce: I FORBID YOU FROM DATING UNTIL YOU’RE THIRTY!

Tim: WHAT!?