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honeycombstrawberry · 2 years

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healing hearts

pairing: adrian chase x gn reader (established relationship) rating: gen+ word count: 2,688 one-sentence synopsis: adrian assumes the worst when he hasn't heard from you in a couple of days, even though you've only been home sick with the flu. author's note: i have been. so very sick. take care of me adrian chase

>> read on ao3!! <<

There’s an incessant pounding coming from— somewhere.

You’re not totally sure what the source of the noise is. Actually, you’re not even entirely sure that it’s not completely in your own head. It’s certainly hurt bad enough for the last— you lift your head to squint at the bleary numbers on your bedside clock— two days that you could be hearing a pounding by now, to reflect the pounding ache inside of it.

Checking the clock again, just to be sure, you verify— yeah, you’ve been asleep off and on for about two days, now. You don’t know what monster flu you caught, but it’s completely knocked the wind out of you.

You’ve had pretty much no energy since you got back home from work the other day and immediately crashed. The entire time you’d been on shift, you’d started feeling worse and worse; on the commute home, you’d nearly had to stop and vomit on the side of the road several times. It’d been a miracle you made it home in one piece at all, let alone managing to drag yourself into bed.

Since then, you’ve been alternating between struggling to get anything into your body, struggling to keep it there, and— sleeping, mostly. Lots of sleeping. It’s felt almost impossible to stay awake, your body continuously attempting to turn itself off to heal itself.

Your aching head is still throbbing in time with what you’ve determined is definitely an outside-source sort of knocking-pounding.

“Hello?” you try to ask, but your voice is scratchy with disuse and illness. Trying to clear it just hurts, so you give up, grimacing as you push yourself upright. You rasp, “Hold on,” but whoever’s knocking doesn’t hear you, or otherwise doesn’t care.

Your joints hurt like hell, but you manage to get yourself on your feet and moving in the direction of your front door. It definitely takes longer than it would normally; you’ve only made it to your bedroom doorway when you hear a bafflingly loud crash from down the hall, your head splitting with the sudden jarring noise of it.

Instinctively, you push the heels of your hands into your eyes, then drag them up until you can grip onto your hair, for a moment, head throbbing.

“Where are you?” you hear a voice down the hall, and you’re simultaneously relieved and incredibly confused that it’s Adrian. “What the fuck— What the fuck—”

“What?” you ask, your voice still cracking, leaning in your bedroom doorway.

Adrian whirls at the sound you make— barely a word, really, but loud enough to be heard this time, at least— and you’re not prepared for how upset he looks. The expression on his face is inexplicably devastated, agonized with the sort of emotion you don’t really expect to see outside of the direst of scenarios. Even, really— Even then, Adrian’s got a smile on his face, most of the time.

Not now, though. Now, he’s half-dressed in his Vigilante gear, and panicked, and running down the hallway towards you before you can even try to process that he’s here, let alone what the hell is happening right now.

Without hesitating, he wraps you right up in his arms, burying his face in your throat. His hold is tight, and your muscles all ache, but it almost feels good, in a pressure sort of way. The way it settles something inside your chest, too, isn’t something to be ignored; you feel a little bit better just for not being alone, just for having him here. You’re not— Your relationship isn’t serious serious, but you—

He still means a lot to you, more than you think anybody else in your life means to you, at this point. He’s still a source of comfort to you; he still makes you feel better. You hope your relationship will become more serious— maybe even serious serious— but it’s not there yet. But—

Still, here’s Adrian, gripping you so tightly it feels like your ribs move. You hug him back, even though you’re a little confused.

“What’s wrong?” you ask him. Your congestion and scratching throat make you slightly incoherent, but he still seems to understand what you’re saying.

“What’s wrong?” Adrian asks. “What’s wr— I thought you were dead.”

“Why the f—” you start, but then start coughing, your voice too abruptly sharp and rough for your throat, right now. Adrian backs up a little bit, panicked, when you bring your arm up, covering your face as you cough and struggle to breath, for a moment. You nearly end up gagging, at the end, but there’s really nothing in your stomach, so you manage to straighten out again after a moment, dizzy and frowning.

“What’s wrong with you?” Adrian asks, quickly. “Something’s wrong. What happened? Did you get poisoned, is that what this is? Poison? Did someone hurt you? Did—”

“Adrian,” you cut him off, head throbbing. You immediately feel a surge of over-emotional guilt for interrupting him, your illness-addled brain bringing up too much unnecessary feeling in response. Almost tearfully, and embarrassed because of it, you say, “I’m sorry—”

“No, don’t apologize,” Adrian says. “I’m sorry, I should be— I should be quieter, sorry. What can I do? What’s wrong, what happened?”

“Nothing,” you tell him. At his incredulous expression, you tell him, “I’m just sick. It’ll pass.” You hesitate, thinking you’re going to sneeze, but it doesn’t happen, which is kind of worse. Frowning, now, you say, “I just feel like shit.”

Adrian pauses, looking like he wants to push back into you at the same time that he’s not sure he’s allowed to. After a beat, he asks, “Why didn’t you— I tried calling? You didn’t answer.”

You glance backwards into your room, at the bag that you’d dropped on the floor the second you got home. Your phone hadn’t ended up anywhere near its charger, nor your hand; you’d completely forgotten about it, honestly. It’s probably been dead for over a day by now.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him, feeling genuinely apologetic, new guilt coursing through you. Your voice almost breaks when you say, “I didn’t mean to, I was just sleeping,” and you flash with an embarrassed heat because of it, forcing you to flush hotter than your fever’s already brought you.

“Oh, hey, it’s okay,” Adrian says. His face is crumpling, tone softening; you feel bad for being the reason it’s there, even if you’re not entirely sure why it’s here at all. “Don’t be upset, I’m not mad, I’m— I was just worried about you, and, like, you didn’t call or message or even, like, view my messages, and I didn’t think I’d done anything wrong but if I had I wanted to give you your space, but then nobody else heard from you and you haven’t posted anything and I was starting to panic a little bit that something happened, or someone took you, or they hurt you because of me, or that maybe you would—”

He cuts himself off, this time, chest heaving. He’s visibly agitated, practically vibrating in front of you, when he lifts his eyes to meet yours. You’re surprised to see the fear in them, and the hurt, because everything— everything is fine. It’s going to be alright; things like this happen. Really, it’s no big deal. People get sick. It’ll be fine.

Adrian, though—

Adrian didn’t know that.

Your chest clenches, your heart doing a strange sort of squeeze at the idea of not hearing from Adrian at all for two days, at the concept of him just dropping off the grid and not responding for no apparent reason. You’d—

In his line of work— or, his preferred line of work— you probably would have assumed the same thing. It hurts something in you, that his fear for you made him this terrified, that your absence rattled him this badly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, mistaking your silence. “I didn’t mean to talk so much again, you probably have a headache, and I’m—” He huffs a laugh that doesn’t sound all that amused, says, “I’m not making it any better, probably. Fuck, I’m sorry. Is there— Can I get you anything? Or I can just go— Actually, yeah, I should probably just g—”

“No,” you insist immediately. You reach out to grab onto him again, tilting right into him. Maybe your relationship isn’t serious serious, but it’s serious enough to be intimate; he wraps his arms around you in return without hesitating, kissing the side of your head. “I’m really sorry.”

“No, don’t be,” he replies. “You’re sick, I shouldn’t— I was being clingy, I didn’t want—”

“No, you’re not,” you tell him. You don’t mean to interrupt again, but you can’t let him think this was anything but what it actually is. “It’s not clingy to want to hear from me. I’d be scared if I didn’t hear from you, either.” You bury yourself in his chest, taking comfort from him. You’re starting to get more exhausted, the longer you stand upright, your joints and spine and muscles and— everything aching; you trust him to hold you upright, though. “I’m really sorry. I didn’t mean to do that, I just kind of— fell asleep. And I haven’t been awake that much. I’m— That was stupid. I should’ve thought—”

“Hey, no, come on, don’t do that,” Adrian says. “Sorry, I just— It’s not your fault. You just— You’re sick, you’re allowed to be sick. It’s shitty. I’m not— I don’t— I shouldn’t assume, just because I’m not here doesn’t mean—”

He stops again; you can feel the tension in his body, muscles tight. His armor’s hanging off him in pieces; the rest of it, you assume, is in his car. You wonder what his intentions were if he hadn’t found you here— if he’d thought you were missing and went out searching for you as Vigilante. You’ll have to ask him about those plans, another day; you’re a little intrigued by the instinctive protective streak in him.

For now, though, you’re trying to figure out the tension in what he isn’t saying, not what he isn’t doing. You think over his words for only a second before you get it, all of it clicking into place, a puzzle that fits until it’s a picture you can understand.

“Maybe now’s not the best time,” you say, half-incoherent through your throat and sinuses and emotion and everything else, “but maybe we could think about living closer. Like— together.” His arms automatically tighten around you, his face coming down to bury in his hair. “If you wanted. When I’m feeling better.”

“I’ll move in right now if you want,” Adrian answers immediately. “I’ll— Are you sure? You sure you’re not, like, fucked up on cold medicine? Do you know what you’re saying? What year is—”

“Adrian,” you laugh, even though it makes your chest tight. You can’t help it; it just happens, even through your sickness. “Yeah, I’m sure.” You push your face closer into his shoulder. “It’ll make it easier next time one of us’s sick.”

“So much easier,” Adrian insists. Without missing a beat, he ducks down to scoop you up. It’s so effortless for him, it’s as though you weigh nothing at all; you’re standing, and then you’re airborne, swept up in his arms. “Plus, then we can, like, hang out. We can hang out all the time. And we can— We can watch TV together! And movies! And we can make dinner together, and learn to, like— I don’t know, we can have— hobbies, and go places on the weekend, and decorate together, and I can—” He sets you down in bed again, his monologue broken for a moment when he presses a kiss to your overheated forehead. “—Yikes, you’re hot— and we can get a dog, maybe, or something like a— I don’t know, something cool, like a— house horse or something— And I can see you all the time and I’ll wake up every morning and you’ll be here with me.”

Adrian collapses down in bed beside you, at the end of it all, and you automatically turn towards him, seeking his comfort. You feel cold, even though you know you’re warm; his skin is so nice against yours, and you push for more of it, shoving pieces of his uniform out of the side to get at more of his flesh, desperate for the comfort of him, to feel better.

“As long as you’re sure,” Adrian adds, at the end of it all.

“I’m sure,” you tell him, already halfway back to sleeping.

“Oh, man, I should probably, like— do something,” Adrian says. Before you can ask what he actually means by that, he says, “Do you want soup, or something? I can make chicken, or—”

“Stop,” you tell him, your weak stomach turning at the thought of eating something right now.

He sees the color drain from your face and pulls you back in to rest against him, your head on his chest, ear over his heart.

“Maybe later,” he allows. “I’ll get you some water, though, maybe? Or I can help you change your clothes, or get you comfy. Want me to plug in your phone? Or bring you to the living room, and then you can watch the TV in there if you wanted, or if you wanted to take a shower, maybe, or a bath—” He stops himself, then. After a beat where he seems to think so loudly you can hear the gears turning in his head, he asks, “What do you want, though?”

You’re already most of the way back into what you want, right now. Half-asleep, you tell him, “I just wanna rest a little while,” muffled by his chest. You yawn, jaw cracking, the soft material of his undershirt shifting beneath your face as you do. “I want you.” Tightening your fingers around him, you ask, “Would you—”

“Yes, yeah, obviously,” Adrian answers, before your question is even finished. “I’ll be right here. Whole time, not going anywhere.” He kisses the top of your head. “You get some sleep. Your body needs it, you rest. I’ll keep an eye out for you. On you. Keep an eye on you.”

“Thanks,” you mumble, exhausted. You can feel some stirring sort of excitement in the back of your chest, something that’ll probably come into full bloom once you’re healthy and coherent and awake enough to process that the two of you are going to be moving in together. “Can I have a hug?”

Adrian huffs an amused little laugh that sounds so impossibly fond that you want to melt inside of it. You can’t help loving him, hearing the love in his voice.

“Of course you can,” he says. He tugs you in tighter, arms wrapping closer around you, holding you near to his chest. “How’s that? That better?”

It’s so nice. It’s so nice, and so comforting, and you feel so much better— in your heart, and mind, and soul, if not in your body— and you can’t help the next words falling out of your mouth. It feels like he loves you, and you know that you love him, so you murmur, “Lots better. Thanks. Love you.”

Beneath your ear, Adrian’s heart starts speeding up impossibly quickly, faster and faster, thudding harder and harder. You’re already falling back asleep; you’re not coherent enough to realize what’s happening, or even what you’ve said to him.

“What?” he asks, but you’re completely unconscious again. Your head on his chest, eyes closed, breath evening out though it rasps through your tight chest and throat.

Belatedly, he realizes you’ve fallen asleep. He doesn’t know if you know what you’ve said, or if you mean it, but— it feels like you do. It does. And he realizes, then, the words that match the feelings he’s been feeling this entire time: he loves you, too.

You’re fast asleep, and you don’t hear him, but he says, voice half-hushed, grinning, “I love you, too,” and tightens his grip on you, kissing the top of your head again, keeping you held close.

adrian chase taglist, pt. 1

@deputyrook @bb-skyrunner @himboelover @pieriinova @gcldtom @violetrainbow412-blog @amysuemc @saturnngal @neptuneswritingwork @jewishdelis @myguiltypleasures21 @pinkygunslingy @chaseadrian @breathing-in-waves @rishlurh @goblynnrockz @theowritesstuff @themartiansdaughter @dallasvakarian @missscarlettangel @samantha24015 @hillaryroadheadcllinton @ohmybubbletea @buckys-estrella @witchywcmans @ladyrebel25 @eviejune @vigilantesluvr @qjuiq-odakyu @xothatnerdykid @awkwardfangirl2014 @thevalkyrior @mattsmanpain @sunflowerfive @deirdre-belle @anthonyedwinstark @sexysquatch @jelliebeanss @zofps @crimscnrains

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in-som-niyah · 2 months

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"𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖙"

"𝘐'𝘮 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘥𝘨𝘦 𝘰𝘧 𝘴𝘰𝘮𝘦𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘣𝘳𝘦𝘢𝘬𝘪𝘯𝘨. 𝘐𝘧 𝘐 𝘬𝘦𝘦𝘱 𝘨𝘰𝘪𝘯𝘨, 𝘐 𝘸𝘰𝘯'𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘬𝘦 𝘪𝘵"

𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+

𝓜𝓸𝓫𝓲𝓵𝓮 𝓜𝓪𝓼𝓽𝓮𝓻𝓵𝓲𝓼𝓽

ᴊᴀꜱᴏɴ ᴘᴇᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴏᴅᴅ

🇸🇲🇺🇹 𝟏𝟖+

softdom!Jason Todd x pregnant!fem!Reader

"See, I love your Icing" (softdom!Jason x fem!reader)

dom!fem!Reader x sub!Jason Todd hc's

"No, none of that baby. Let me see that pretty pussy of mine." (softdom!Jason x insecure!fem!reader)

"Come on princess, don't be like that. Give Red what he deserves..." (softdom!Jason Todd x fem!black coded!Reader)

soft!Jason Todd x virgin!fem!Reader (songfic)

🇫🇱🇺🇫🇫

Priscilla the Rabitt vs Jason Todd (domestic!Jason Todd x fem!Reader)

GirlDad!Jason Todd x Mom!Reader

🇦🇳🇬🇸🇹

🇨🇴🇲🇫🇴🇷🇹

"These arms are always yours, love" (soft!domestic!Jason Todd x overstimulated!black!fem!Reader) (TW: Panic attack)

soft!oblivious!Jason Todd x fem!reader on her period (TW: description of vomiting)

Attentive!Jason x reader hcs when reader is on their period

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floralcyanide · 1 month

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― 𝚋𝚕𝚊𝚗𝚔𝚎𝚝𝚜 𝚊𝚗𝚍 𝚜𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚝𝚜 (nsfw)

⌯ pairing: bale!bruce wayne / afab!reader ⌯ warnings: smut, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, oral sex (f receiving), overstimulation, fingering, nipple play, friends to lovers, love confessions, mentions of fear toxin (dcu), no gender affirming language other than anatomy description ⌯ word count: 2.5k ⌯ summary: based on these prompts: “I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.” and “How do you always end up under my blanket?” your best friend bruce wayne has been missing for a while. when he comes back, he has a confession to make. ⌯ author’s note: this took a little while to write because I wanted to write an actual fic for bale!bruce. I hope yall enjoy (:

divider credit: @arminsumi | @firefly-graphics | @cafekitsune ⌯ masterlist ⌯ taglist form

this fic has been cross posted to ao3.

ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴄᴏᴘʏ, ʀᴇᴘʀᴏᴅᴜᴄᴇ, ᴏʀ ᴄʟᴀɪᴍ ᴍʏ ᴡᴏʀᴋ ᴀs ʏᴏᴜʀs ᴏɴ ᴛᴜᴍʙʟʀ, ᴀᴏ3, ᴡᴀᴛᴛᴘᴀᴅ, ᴏʀ ᴀɴʏ ᴡᴇʙsɪᴛᴇ.

You’re busying yourself by folding laundry, trying your best to get your mind off your best friend Bruce. While his job is very demanding, and he goes away for a while sometimes, he’s never been gone this long. You’re beginning to worry- so much so that you’ve lost sleep and the ability to eat properly. But you know Bruce, and you know he’s resilient. It’s just a matter of time. But, of course, he was presumed dead for years before now, and that will always haunt you. So it’s not entirely irrational of you to worry.

A knock at your apartment door startles you out of your sleepy stupor. You set down the towel you were folding before shuffling to the entrance. You peek through the peephole to see none other than Bruce standing there. You swing the door open, and Bruce immediately wraps his arms around you. You do the same to him, holding him tightly, fearing that this is some hallucination from lack of sleep. Your face is buried in Bruce’s chest, and his scent tells you that this is real and he’s really here with you.

“Where were you?” you whisper, tears threatening to spill from your eyes.

It had been quite a few days of radio silence from Bruce. You know he’s Batman, and he keeps you updated on his safety status. But he, of course, doesn’t tell you details of the villains and crimes for your safety. You’re his childhood best friend, so you knew he was Batman before he even told you. The day he told you, you just laughed. “I know, Bruce.” But you were still very concerned about his well-being after trying to approach one of his enemies.

“One of the guys I was after had a toxin,” Bruce pulls away from you, looking around to ensure no one would hear, “It got to me.”

You furrow your eyebrow, “Come in.”

Bruce enters your apartment, waiting for you to close and lock the door. He shoves his hands into his pockets, unsure of whether or not he should explain the situation at all. But he knows he owes you an explanation.

“A toxin, huh?” you ask, crossing your arms as you lean against the door.

“Fear toxin.” Bruce clarifies, “It makes you hear and see the things you fear the most, but they aren’t really there.”

You shudder, “That sounds horrifying. And you said you experienced it? How long did it last?”

“I was out for a few days while Alfred worked with someone to make an antidote. I saw things. Things I didn’t want to.”

You pull away from the door and slowly walk to Bruce, “Do you want to talk about it?”

Bruce looks at you as you stand before him, “No, but I probably should anyway. Considering the things I was seeing.”

You pull the sides of Bruce’s jacket together, holding onto them as you search his eyes. They’re different, and you figure it’s from whatever he experienced from the fear toxin.

“What did you see, Bruce?”

Bruce grimaces with a nervous laugh, “Are you sure you want to know?”

You look at him and nod, still clutching his jacket.

“I saw you,” Bruce sighs, shaking his head, “Something kept hurting you and killing you over and over. And there was nothing I could do to stop it.”

You stare up at Bruce with a frown etched on your face at the thought of your best friend feeling helpless.

“That sounds awful,” you say.

“It just made me think about a lot and realize things I didn’t see before.”

Bruce turns his thoughts over carefully, choosing what exactly to say next. He had always loved you, sure. But Bruce never thought of it as a romantic thing. Not until the fear toxin made him see things and feel things he had never felt or seen before. He wants to protect and care for you so you never have to go through what he saw you go through. Even though it isn’t plausible that you would, Bruce still wants what is best for you because he does love you. A little more now than he did before. You, on the other hand, have always loved Bruce. You've been enthralled with his presence since you were kids playing in the Wayne Manor backyard. Everything he did amazed you, especially now with him helping the people of Gotham. His intelligence, softness, even the cockiness he sometimes lets seep through. Even before, when he was a slightly bratty rich guy, you loved him. Bruce's absence for days has made your feelings for him more intense. With love comes worry and concern.

“And what would that be?” you ask.

Bruce pulls your hands from his jacket, enveloping them in his, “You’ve always been here for me, and I’m sorry I didn’t see it sooner. I love you and will always do anything to protect you.”

“I love you too, Bruce,” you say back, not realizing the total weight of his words.

“No,” he says, “I really do. It’s taken me this long to see, but I do love you. And not like a best friend.”

Your face softens, “Bruce, you don’t mean that-”

“No, I do mean it,” he says, squeezing your hands.

There’s a pregnant pause before Bruce slowly leans down to capture your lips with his in a swift, gentle motion. The world seems to stop around the two of you, the sirens outside quieting and the sound of your washing machine fading away. Bruce lets go of you and cradles your head in his hands, deepening the passionate-turning kiss. You wrap your arms around his neck, pulling him ever closer. Bruce slips his tongue past your lips, battling yours for dominance, which you gladly let him take. He guides you backward until the base of your spine is pressed against the kitchen counter. Bruce moves his grasp from your hair to your thighs, where he hikes them up around his waist. He smiles into the kiss, and you pick up on it.

“What?” you ask, pulling away briefly.

“I dreamed of your legs wrapped around my waist.”

You feel a warmth spread along your ears at that confession. Trailing your palms up Bruce’s neck and past his jaw to his cheeks, you stare into his eyes. A smile spreads across his face into slight laughter, to which you mirror.

“What else have you dreamed of, Bruce?”

“Want me to show you?”

A nod of your head leads to Bruce walking you to your bedroom, still perched on his waist. He gently lies you down on the bed before climbing over you, his strong arms on either side of your head. He lowers himself onto you to kiss you again, his weight on his forearms by your ears. Bruce then moves to your jaw, teasing you with small kisses and nips. You can’t help but giggle at the feeling of his stubble on your skin, tickling it. Bruce travels down your neck and then down to your torso, where he lifts your shirt and kisses your stomach. You watch with content as he tugs your shirt over his head so he can reach higher to your breasts. You don’t wear a bra when at home, so Bruce has easy access to them. He softly kisses your skin, avoiding the areas you want him most. You open your mouth to joke about it, but before you can say a word, his fingers pinch one of your nipples as he lays his head by the other. Bruce shoves your shirt to your shoulders, resuming his previous position of pressing his cheek to your left breast and toying with the right one with his hand. With a slight movement of his head, Bruce is now suckling your unoccupied bud. Your hips buck into his stomach, and you feel his length growing hard against your leg. Bruce gazes up at you through his lashes, his eyes a little darker than before. Your hand finds its way to his hair, fingers tangling themselves in it.

Bruce tweaks your nipple with his teeth as he rolls the other with his fingers, making electricity jolt through you. A gasp leaves your lips at the sensation, your grip on Bruce’s hair tightening briefly. He leaves open-mouthed kisses along your breasts before moving down your sternum and stomach, toying with the hem of your sweatpants. Bruce glances up at you to ask for permission, and you nod.

“You can touch me.”

Bruce pulls your sweatpants down, and you kick them off the rest of the way. He bites and licks the skin of your thighs before cupping your clothed heat with his mouth. Bruce flattens his tongue against you, dragging it upward against the cotton material of your underwear. You whine at the contact, wanting something a little more direct. With your hands still in Bruce’s hair, you remove them, moving them to pull down the barrier between you and Bruce’s mouth. He helps you with a knowing smirk. He softly kisses your clit before letting his tongue delve into your wetness, a sharp inhale through your nose letting him know it feels good. You would be lying if you had said you hadn’t thought of this exact moment before. Bruce steadies your hips with his hands, his fingers digging into your flesh. When the tip of his tongue comes in contact with your bundle of sensitive nerves, you attempt to buck your hips up to no avail. Bruce is incredibly strong, so you had no chance of moving. But he begins to guide your hips up and down, making you ride his tongue on his own accord. You move with what he’ll allow along with his guidance, and pleasure flowers through you. Bruce coaxes a finger into you, the feeling of him exploring you with it making you moan loudly. When he finds your spot, he adds another finger to circle it slowly. You gasp, biting your lip to keep from moaning too loud again.

“No,” Bruce shakes head, pulling away from you and stopping his movements, “I want to hear you, sweetheart.”

“Fine,” you exhale, hands clutching the bed sheets.

Bruce resumes pumping his fingers in and out of you while pressing his fingertips to your spot every now and then, eliciting noises from you that you’ve never let out with anyone else. He laps at your clit simultaneously, and he allows you to move your hips freely as he spreads your legs with his free hand. You feel yourself becoming lost in pleasure, your head cloudy and letting out noises without a second thought. Bruce feels you tightening around his fingers, signaling you’re close to release. So, he pulls away from you and sits up on his knees. You wriggle at the loss of his fingers, but he quickly replaces them with the tip of his hardened length. Bruce holds you still with one hand as he drags himself up and down your weeping cunt with the other. You pull your shirt the rest of the way off as Bruce slowly pushes himself inside you. Giving you a moment to adjust, he peels off his own shirt and tosses it before continuing to thrust slowly into you.

When he’s entirely inside, he notices you taking deep breaths, “All good?”

“Yeah,” you nod, “It’s just been a while.”

That and Bruce is well endowed, so you have to relax fully to take him comfortably. When you finally feel comfortable enough to move, you give your hips an experimental roll. Both you and Bruce groan at the feeling, to which Bruce pulls out a little before pushing back in.

“Don’t be shy, Bruce,” you joke, “You can go faster.”

“Be careful what you wish for,” Bruce smiles deviously down at you.

He picks your legs up and lays them on his shoulders before he begins to pound into you, leaving you gasping for air. You grip Bruce’s biceps, his rhythm is merciless as your bed frame squeaks underneath you. He moves you upward to the pillows so you can rest your head on them and so he can grip the headboard for leverage. Bruce’s hips snap forward rapidly, just as he assured, and he has to put a pillow above your head so it doesn’t slam into the bedframe. Your moans are incoherent at this point, and your eyes are wound shut.

“Look at me, babe,” Bruce says, moving a hand from your thigh to your cheek, bringing you out of your fog.

You open your eyes to gaze into his, Bruce pressing his chest to yours and fucking you at a new angle as he puts his forehead against yours. You gasp and pant into each other’s mouth before finally embracing in a heated kiss. Deciding to switch up the angle, Bruce removes your legs from his shoulders and spreads them apart as far as they go. You howl into the kiss as Bruce hits that spot inside you, driving you crazy.

“Right there, Bruce,” you manage to stutter, “Right there!”

He hooks his arms under your knees, slamming you against him even harder than before. Bruce presses a thumb to your clit, rubbing tight circles into it. You curse, no longer caring if your neighbors hear you or your bed slamming into the wall. Heat builds up in your belly as you struggle to maintain eye contact with Bruce, stars flooding your vision. He hits that spot inside you harder than before, sending you over the edge in a snap. Your walls clench around Bruce, causing his orgasm to unfold shortly behind yours. The feeling of him emptying into you coaxes your release to last longer, and Bruce not letting up on your clit adds to the overstimulation. You cry out as another orgasm washes over you, and Bruce hisses from his own overstimulation. He curses under his breath as he pulls out of you, hurrying to your closet for a towel. Bruce cleans the two of you up as you work to bring yourself back to Earth.

“That,” you say, Bruce hovering over you, “was amazing.”

“You’re amazing,” Bruce says, and you both laugh at his cheesiness.

Rolling over to lie next to you, Bruce pulls the blanket on his side of the bed over him, and you do the same. But the ownership of blankets doesn’t last long as you cuddle. You manage to pull Bruce’s blanket over to your side, much like you used to when you were both younger. You had sleepovers a lot, and you’d always somehow end up stealing Bruce’s blanket.

“How do you always end up under my blanket?” Bruce sighs.

You peek at him, opening your closed eyes momentarily before shrugging, stifling a laugh. Bruce pulls your head into his neck before kissing your hair, allowing you to doze off. Even if the things he saw during the toxin’s hold on him were disturbing, at least it allowed him to see things more clearly and find his way to you.

#bruce wayne #bruce wayne x reader #bruce wayne x reader smut #bruce wayne smut #batman x reader #batman x reader smut #batman smut #batman begins #bale!bruce wayne #bale!batman x reader #christian bale #christian bale x reader #christian bale x reader smut #christina bale smut #floralcyanide writes #pop up workshop

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meduarts · 2 years

Text

Managing Life (Part 1/?)

Summary: Marinette has been Audrey Bourgeois' secretary ever since she voiced out her dream of having her own business. Audrey thinks that she should learn more about the nooks and crannies of running a fashion business. However, fate has other plans for her, and honestly, what can our resident guardian could do to counter fate?

Disclaimer: I do not own MLB or DCU. A/N: It has been quite a while since I write fanfiction. I hope this is good enough for now!

Taglist: @timinette-is-best, @peach-blueberry-pie, @tinybrie, @taewinterbear95, @its-maemain, @flyhighdreamer, @kokoroluna (Tell me if you want to be a part of the taglist!)

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"Mme Bourgeois, I have booked the flight to Gotham and arranged your stay at their best suite in Wayne Hotel for 7 days in Gotham during the Gala week."

Marinette reported her progress with polite professionalism like she always uses during this private meeting with her boss, Audrey Bourgeois the CEO of Style Queen. It has been over 5 years since the fall of Hawkmoth and the ex-Parisian hero had hung up her superhero costume and continued her life as usual.

Sure it took some trips to therapy sessions and many breakdowns after that fateful encounter, but like always our hero picked herself back up, brushed the dust, and took another step toward the future. The year when Hawkmoth was defeated was her last year at Dupont. It was a somewhat bittersweet graduation present if she was being honest. When she graduated from Dupont, she did so without even mending her relationship with her classmates.

She left Dupont without looking back, her classmate decided that the girl who can weave words so sweet is a better gem than Marinette and Marinette gave them her answer by letting them go.

After that, she went to IFA and graduated early with honors. While going to fashion school, Chloe successfully roped her to have an internship under the Style Queen. Which landed her a permanent secretary position and is working under Audrey as an apprentice as of today.

"Magnifique! I can always count on you Marinette! Did you make sure that your own accommodation is planned perfectly as well?"

"Naturally, Mme Bourgeois."

Audrey nodded, pleased at how competent Marinette is. "Excellent news, darling. Do you have your dress ready?"

Marinette went quiet and averted her gaze from her boss. Audrey frowned at her changed behavior and sighed heavily. "You do know that you are coming with me, right Marinette?"

Marinette kept quiet.

"Marinette," Audrey called with a pointed tone. Her apprentice fidgets one of her tics when she got found out doing something she wasn't supposed to do.

"Marinette, you know what this Gala meant, yes?"

"A Charity gala, Madame?"

Audrey laughed her signature condescending laugh and waved her gloved hand. "Cease your joking, Marinette! It is a chance for you to spread your wings! Make more connections! You understand why I'll take you with me, non?"

"To make sure your dress stays perfect, Madame?" Marinette snarked playfully.

"Hmm, that is true, yes. But! Aside from that, I want to brag you of course!"

Marinette tilted her head in confusion. Her lips formed a cute pout as her eyes narrowed in confusion. "Brag me, Madame?"

Audrey raised from her leather seat and walked towards the window behind her white marbled desk. "Yes! Marinette, you are an amazing aspiring designer, an amazing secretary and I have nothing to teach you any more about fashion because you soaked it all up like a sponge."

Marinette stayed quiet during her boss' tirade, though her mind began to swirl in a whirlwind of mess. What did she mean she didn't have anything to teach her anymore? She still has a long way to go! It's not her time to spread her wings! She was sure she'll plummet when the first problem occurs in her business! Not to mention, she knew that her design isn't up to par yet to other professional designers for her to build a business.

Sure she has celebrity clients here and there and whenever she opens out her website for the commission the list would be full in no time. However, comparing herself with Style Queen or even the now-dead Agreste Brand, she still has a long way to go.

"Marinette Dupain-Cheng cease those self-deprecating thoughts that I know you're thinking right now! Honestly! I have raised you to have self-confidence but it seems that your biggest enemy is yourself!"

Tell me about it, Marinette scoffed internally but stopped her train of thought nonetheless. The young woman raised her head and look at her boss with a pensive look and Audrey gave her a rare soft smile.

"Marinette, you are a great designer, your business though it is small, will grow quickly. I have nothing more to teach you, it's time for you to find a new mentor. Spread your wings, embark new horizon, non?" Audrey spread her hands as a grand gesture, she then winked at Marinette to add a little bit of effect. "Think about it."

"Understood, Mme Bourgeois." Giggled Marinette merrily. Audrey chuckled and clapped her hands. "I'll inform you of my decision, tomorrow morning."

Audrey claps her hand with a victorious smile, "Magnifique! Now! I require-"

"Your special brew coffee and your sweet snacks for the break and the latest fashion magazine as well as your mani-pedis private appointment," Marinette replied immediately with a sardonic smile. Her boss smirked and winked at her and Marinette excused herself from the office.

Once the huge doors of the office closed she let her shoulder slump and exhaled heavily. Her heart was heavy at the thought of leaving Style Queen, she loves her job, though it isn't actually a full-time designing job, she made a good amount of money and the working hours didn't clash with her time to finish her client's commission, so all in all a win-win situation.

However, deep down she knew that Audrey was right, she had hit a point where she could grow no further here. Her design flourished through the years and more celebrities approached her privately to purchase her designs, but honestly, she doesn't know what to do next. Audrey had told her in order to build a big fashion business she would need a mentor that dabbled in a business empire and sadly enough though her network is vast none of them are from a flourishing business empire.

Marinette reached her personal desk and slumped on her seat while massaging her temple. She could feel a prod from her breast pocket and looked down to see her faithful friend peering up at her with their big eyes. Marinette gave Tikki an encouraging small smile.

"It's alright, Tikki, I'll manage." She whispered quietly at her. Even though this particular floor is only inhabited by her office and the big boss, she could never be too safe.

"I know, Marinette. I just figured you need a pat, that's all." Tikki giggled sweetly at her chosen.

"Thank you, Tikki. It definitely gave me a boost." She chuckled and tickled Tikki's soft head with her finger. She took a deep breath and decided to shelve the thought about her growing business aside, she had work to do. She popped her knuckles and straightened her back.

First thing first, the mani-pedis private appointment.

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Marinette finished her work a little later than the normal 5 o'clock, there's a lot of work to be done as the Style Queen's assistant. But she didn't complain, it made her busy so she doesn't have to wallow in depression and anxiety that had always waited for her in the corner.

She gathered her things meticulously, made sure that Tikki is safely tucked in her bucket bag that she had made herself, and left the building to go home. Her penthouse wasn't far from where she worked, so it had been a pleasant quiet walk home.

Once she arrived home she let Tikki out of her bag and went to a room that she named, 'The Kwami Abode'. It was one of the more spacious rooms with a large window facing the Eiffel tower, in the middle of the room stood a glowing tree, the whole tree branches and trunk were white with shimmering iridescent purple and blue, and the leaves were crystal it formed a dome covering the egg-shaped Miracle box on the top of the tree trunk, hanging by the branches were different color pods there were 19 in total for all the Kwamis and each pod was decorated for their personal preference.

The room was painted a soft lilac color and it has layers upon layers of protective magic. Once Marinette had bought herself a place to live using her own commission money and her pay as Style Queen's secretary, she made sure to reserve a room for the Kwamis. She doesn't want them to be cooped up in the Miracle Box, so using her magic she created the trees and pods so that the Kwami could lounge around in peace.

Tikki was delighted that her chosen held such great magic and the other Kwamis were equally delighted that their guardian is thoughtful enough to build them a proper place to stay in.

Marinette smiles as Tikki gave her a small kiss on her cheek and flew to her pod, from one of the pods Pollen flew out and let out an excited squeal.

"The Grand Guardian Is Back!!!" The Bee kwami immediately zoomed toward Marinette and gave her cheek a hug.

Hearing Pollen's excited squeal the other kwamis namely, Trixx, Barkk, and Duusu flew out from their respective pods and swarmed Marinette with hugs of their own. The young Guardian smiled warmly at their excited greetings and left the Kwami Abode to start on dinner.

While making the Kwami's dinner, she was lost in thought again about her future. So lost that she almost chopped her fingers but thankfully Plagg stopped her by nudging her palm with his head. Marinette blinked a few times and her eyes locked at Plagg's electric green. The Black Cat God gave her a look.

"What's going on in your head, kitten?"

Marinette set aside the knife she was holding and let out a deep sigh, "It's nothing, Plagg. I'm just being ridiculous."

"Utterly ridiculous?" Plagg snarked with a shit-eating grin.

Marinette scoffed and rolled her eyes.

"I'm serious though, pigtails, what's going on? You wanna have a therapy session with your favorite kwami again?"

"Oh come on, Plagg. I haven't been wearing pigtails in years! You've gotta find a more creative nickname than that. You're losing your touch. Also, my favorite Kwami happens to be Wayzz." She winked as Plagg gave a betrayed gasp.

"How dare you, pigtails! I raised you from when you were just a lovesick kitten! Taught you everything you know about mischief and chaos! And this is how you pay me??? Betrayal?? Favoritism???" He wailed dramatically.

Marinette laughed out loud, holding the kitchen counter so she wouldn't fall. Plagg grinned as he watched his precious kitten laugh freely, it doesn't happen too often, not nowadays at least. Marinette had closed herself off from any potential friendship because of the trauma she had from her former classmate. Her only friends, namely Kagami, Luka, and Chloe, didn't see each other as often as they'd like. But they tried at least.

"Anyways, don't try changing the subject, kitten. What's wrong?" Plagg asked again. Marinette stopped her laugh and smiled weakly at Plagg.

"I'm not getting out of this conversation, am I?"

"Nope, kitty cat! C'mon, y'know you can confide your worries to dear old Plagg!"

Marinette snorts and rolled her eyes before huffing silently. "It's about my future. Audrey told me that I might need to find another mentor since she doesn't have anything to teach me anymore. It's a great opportunity but I'm content with what I have!"

Plagg hummed and floats closer to Marinette. "You're scared of change, aren't you?"

Marinette holds her shoulder and hunched forward while biting her lips anxiously. "Maybe...Okay... Yeah, I'm scared. It's just... I think she wants me to leave France and I'm just..."

"Not ready?"

The former ladybug nodded meekly at that. Plagg reached out to touch her cheeks. "Listen to me, Bugs. I know how scary it is to get out of your comfort zone, but I can feel you restless. You are a true Holder, A True Soul even! I can tell that your creative soul is dying to leave this place. Paris is safe now, it has been safe for 5 years, and you made sure of that. The people had their time to move on forward. But you? This might be your chance to do so."

"But what about, you guys?"

"What? You think we're going to hate leaving Paris? Kitten, you are the Great Grand Guardian of the Miraculous. Where you go we follow. Besides, I think I speak for all of my siblings that we just want you to be happy."

"Plagg is right my Queen! You made sure we live in comfort and we also want the same for you!"

"You've done so much for us and it's time for you to be a little selfish, who knows maybe you'll meet the love of your life out there!" Duusu exclaimed excitedly.

"Besides, your power has improved greatly, Grand Guardian. I think making another 'Kwami's Abode' in your new residence wherever you will be would be an easy task. We believe in you." Wayzz added as he joined the conversation.

Marinette felt tears prickling from her eyes, she sniffed and looked up at the Kwamis around her. "Thank you. Thank you so much." She whispered.

Her heart settled for the first time in a few years, no lingering anxiety as her decision was made. Perhaps, the Wayne Gala would lead her to a better life, a new exciting adventure, a place where she could finally call home.

"Well, it looks like we're all going to take a trip to Gotham."

TBC

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#maribat #ml marinette #marinette dupain cheng #dickinette #marinette as secretary #marinette x batfam #mlb x dc #marinette cheng

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dimepdf · 2 years

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𝐒𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄. + 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐀𝐓𝐆𝐀𝐍𝐆.

masterlist. / taglist. / any request? synopsis. how The Batgang would react to you giving them a blowjob!

pairing. riddler x reader, batman x reader, joker x reader

genre and warnings. +18, oral(m), not gender specific, degradation kink, semi-public sex, eye contact, car sex, head pushing, choking, pet names, dirty talk | — dusting off my DCU masterlists because I suddenly am very in love with the Joker again, somebody pray for me.

𝐑𝐢𝐝𝐝𝐥𝐞𝐫.

Whining and whimpering.

Edward will not shut the fuck up, a modern day pornstar that man is.

Every time you start anything sexual it always shocks him.

Honestly, god bless anyone willing to touch this man.

Gotta catch him during a good hygiene day.

Sexually this man has not felt the touch of literally anyone so you gotta be very suggestive for him to catch on.

Which usually just leads to you being as blunt as possible.

“Like…right now? Oh okay.”

Not gonna lie, at first it was a little awkward…

He was afraid to make any noise around you.

Literally biting his knuckle, grabbing the sheets, almost pulling out your hair.

He's a crier, you cannot convince me otherwise.

Literally sobbing your name like you're sucking this soul from his body through his dick.

You could be the absolute worst at giving head and he’s still acting like it's the most toe curling blowjob in the world.

𝐁𝐚𝐭𝐦𝐚𝐧.

Big long dick? boy I gotta have it.

Fucking chuckles at you when you gag struggling to take his entire length.

I’m convinced this man is just so sexually repressed.

So when you came into the picture offering, he would never reject your advances.

Car sex in the Bat mobile at least a few times

You'd have to push aside your pride to beg him for it though.

He tries to act all cool during the start

“Be good and I might reward you.”

But the moment you have him in your hands it's over.

He’s lowkey your bitch.

“Feels so good mommy.”

Once you have him wrapped around your finger he literally feels like he’d combust and die.

𝐉𝐨𝐤𝐞𝐫.

“You’re not half bad at this doll.”

Just the thought of him being able to corrupt you was a huge turn on.

If he's at all your first time, he’ll make a big tease about it.

“Who knew you were such a whore for me?”

He’s the type to head push.

Let’s all be honest here: The Joker definitely has dacryphilia.

Even if you are very clearly inexperienced he can't help but to have control in any situation.

“Open your mouth.”

“Move your tongue.”

This is gonna be a little awkward if you’re not okay with public sex…

Going down on him in front of his henchmen is just a must.

It's the very toxic possessiveness in him <3

If any of his men even looked in your direction he’d be quick to throw a fit.

The type of mf to hold eye contact with someone that stood out of line while you're going down on him.

If you get him in a mood he might even slip out a few sighs here and there.

Praying for the amount of lockjaw you're getting.

He likes it when you use just a little bit of teeth.

JUST A LITTLE BIT.

Don’t be a brat, He isn't afraid to pull your hair.

🔖 @prettyeyedmaureen @dreamscape-basement @zombiew1fe @jud-is-the-name @lovemedaddy-666 @lluvin @brunettebri @killjoys-n-whovians @seren-a-ity @thelaststraw3 @harrycanyonmoonn @loverofminesworld @weasleytwinscumslut @jackierose902109 @1shyshy1sana @migirl323 @phantomofthecathedral @toy-cars-and-grape-juice @xiichao @deloe18

tap here to be added to taglist.

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hiddenqveendom · 17 days

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pls help….

taglist: @kentaroranda @erraticrandomficwriter, @jewishbarbies , @sgtbuckyybarnes , @decennia , @veetlegeuse, @arrthurpendragon , @raith-way , @scootermcooter , @stanshollaand , @chrissymunson , @foxesandmagic , @eddiemunscns , @waterloou , @endless-oc-creations, @kingsmakers, @https-svnshine, @daughter-of-melpomene,@dyhlanobrien, @fragilestorm , @nolanhollogay , @carmens-garden , @impales , @emilykaldwen, @darkwolf76, @princessmadelines, @iloveocs, @nectarinesrule , @nyrafireheart , @rebloggingocs , @conaionaru , @eddysocs , @xoteajays, @thatmagickjuju

#*poll #ocapp #*ooc #let’s see how it goes lmao #stranger things oc #hotd oc #titans oc #bg3 oc

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darth-caillic · 2 years

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Casey Sousa ❂ The Verum Theory

OUTDATED

"The more you try to avoid trouble, the harder it will bite you in the ass."

Heavily Inspired by @wokenhardies Emissary Verse

My own personal superhero universe. I've hesitated on making an MCU/DCU OC for ages. So I just figured it would be more fun to just cut out all the stuff I don't like (cough fuck you wanda).

This would be less of an official story, and more of sandbox fic.

The New Taglist: Let me know if you want to be removed/added: @honeyandsunflowers @thehedgehogat221b @margoshansons @waterloou @aceyanaheim @jedi-valjean @jurassicobsessor @asirensrage @arrthurpendragon

#superhero #casey sousa #the verum theory #cover #poster #ocappreciation #oc #fanfiction #venom #scream #spiderman #harley quinn #moon knight

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sterling-writes · 1 year

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OC Birthday Appreciation!

Happy Birthday to Kent Day!

In celebration of his in-canon birthday, here are some fun facts about him!

Kent was born on November 4th, which makes him a Scorpio! Here's an excerpt from Though Catalog that I think describes him well: Scorpio men are one of the hardest workers in the zodiac. They know they have what it takes to succeed, so they never let failure slow them down. They keep going until they earn what they want. There's no doubt in their mind that they deserve it. Scorpios are also straightforward, serious, and brutally honest. Although they can be secretive about their past, they never hold back their feelings about others. Sometimes, they end up being a little too blunt and hurting other people.

He's based on the DCU character Doctor Fate / Kent Nelson! I originally inserted him into my stories as a side character and, at some point, changed a few of my OCs to be his kids.

I didn't think the name "Nelson" fit those OCs, so I just used "Fate" as their surname for a little bit. I stopped liking that one too, and for some reason, came up with the name "Day," and it just stuck ever since.

Over time, I've changed so much about him that it's hard for me to entirely consider him the same character. But the comparison certainly still stands!

He has four children: Hawk, Aron, Florence, and Lucien.

I plan to eventually make an OC Intro for him, so keep an eye out!

Happy Birthday!

taglist: @darknightfrombeyond @wokenhardies @arrthurpendragon

#kent #kent day #oc birthday #actually is it weird to call him an oc...#i'm gonna do it anyway because why not #sue me #i got nothing to lose #kinda my ...blorbo atm? does that apply to an older man #i feel weird using that term. i take it back #also that picture would be when he's way younger obv #but yeah can you tell that black adam made me very very happy #anyway #happy birthday kent

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princessmisery666 · 3 years

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Tag List Info - September 2021 Update

I've started dabbling in the DC fandom (blame @cockslut-padalecki for reigniting my Joel Kinnaman obsession), so I've created tag lists. I have one Rick Flag drabble posted, working on a one-shot and I have a Clark Kent WIP making slooooow progress.

Also as I've said before I constantly worry I’m bugging people when I tag them in stuff. So I recently scrapped my tag list and started again.

I won’t be tagging anyone (including friends and mutuals) unless I hear from you directly, or you have reached out recently - I’ve tagged those who have below on relevant lists - so I can be sure I’m not annoying anyone.

If you want on any/all of the below lists, please let me know by reblog/comment/DM or ASK.

Fandom Tag Lists

Super Supernatural - All fics for Supernatural regardless of the main character.

@denimbex1986 / @avanatural / @deanwanddamons / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @flamencodiva / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911 / @waywardbaby / @xoxabs88xox

Marvellous Marvel - All fics for Marvel regardless of the main character.

@denimbex1986 / @b3autyfuldisast3r / @deanwinchesterswitch / @katbratsupernaturalwhore / @petitgateau911 / @xoxabs88xox

Dabbling In DC - All fics for DC regardless of the main character. (mainly Rick Flag at the moment)

@xoxabs88xox

Stace of Anarchy - All fics for SoA regardless of the main character.

Character Tag Lists*

*Fics with the specified character as the main focus even though other characters from the fandom will probably make an appearance.

Driving Baby, Whiskey & Leather - Dean Winchester - @deanwinchesterswitch / @krazykelly / @deandreamernp /

So Get This - Sam Winchester - @supernaturalgrandma /

Captain ‘Past Asking Permission’ Rogers - Steve Rogers - @bccky

Sam Wilson Deserves More - Sam Wilson

Beautifully Broken Bucky Barnes - Bucky Barnes - @bccky

Risking it for Rick Flag - Rick Flag

#Taglist #Tag List #taglistupdate #Marvel #Supernatural #DC #DCU #MCU #SPN #DeanWinchester #SamWinchester #RickFlag #SamWilson #SteveRogers #BuckyBarnes #Angst #Smut #Fluff #PWP

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miss-rori · 6 years

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Taglist

Hello, everyone! As the title tells, I want to start a taglist.

If you'd like to be added to any sort of taglist, all you have to do is message me or comment on one of my fics! You can do it for a certain character(s), fandom(s), or really any combination!

If you'd like to see what I've written in the past or the fandoms I write for, you can find that on my masterlist! The link is in my description.

Thank you for your time!

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sabinanotfound · 3 years

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Them With a 'Nerdy' Reader

Includes: Dream, GeorgeNotFound, SapNap and Wilbur Soot

Warnings: none!

Request: Could I request head cannons with a bunch of the guys with a nerdy reader? Like they get very into comics and movies and stuff? (I.e. Marvel, Anime, DCU)

Dream

finds it extremely adorable how you're so interested

gladly does a movie marathon with you

isn't a big fan of anime but will still watch it because you want to

GeorgeNotFound

loves reading comics with you!!!

will sometimes watch something with you

simping together is a must

Sapnap

this boy is into this stuff from the start, so you're the perfect s/o for him

movie marathons, reading comics together, going to events, you name it

loud discussions about the plot

Wilbur Soot

MAJOR mcu fan

his fav thing in the whole world?

watching movies with you and then playfully bickering about who is the best character

taglist: @quivvyintheclouds @bozowrites @dysfunctionalcrab @cr0wbonezz-wr1ting-inc @ttakinou

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honeycombstrawberry · 2 years

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like branches in a storm

pairing: adrian chase x reader (gn pronouns)

rating: t+

word count: 5,882

one-sentence synopsis: you're getting colder by the second, but adrian's not about to let anything happen to you, not while he still has breath in his body.

author's note: this thought literally came to me as i was falling asleep last night and i was immediately possessed. i simply had to write it. so i wrote this tonight and i showed my husband and he said "wow, only about 6k? that's short for you" which has honestly become so heinously true!! so i hope you enjoy this fic about you getting very cold and adrian saving you and making you all warm again!! also look if any of the cold stuff/hypothermia/survival/anything is inaccurate please don't tell me!! pretend he uses survival powers or something to save you if anything's glaringly inaccurate i didn't do research i just wrote fic don't tell me when i'm wrong in fic it scares me

>>> read on ao3!! <<<

You’re not going to panic.

You’re not. There’s no point to panicking, because you’re already here, and this is already happening, so you’re not going to do it. You’re just going to— to stay calm, and cool, and collected. Just because you and Adrian are lost in the woods with no way to contact the rest of the team, and just because the the sun is quickly setting, and just because your uniform is soaked through from an earlier fall into the river—

That doesn’t mean you’re completely fucked. Things are, admittedly, bleak, but— You’ve survived worse. The both of you have. You’ve survived worse together, even. Difficult this may be, you’re not about to die, and you’re definitely not about to let Adrian die, so, really. It’s just a matter of— of getting through this, until it’s over.

And, soon, it’ll be over. It has to be. There’s no other alternative, because this isn’t how the two of you are going down. Not while you have a say in it.

“Fuck,” Adrian curses, setting another radio aside in the dirt and grass. “This one’s not working, either.”

That radio had been their last chance at connecting with the rest of the 11th Street Kids. With this final hope lost, he sighs, falling backwards onto the ground, limbs all spread wide. He’s long since abandoned his helmet, but the rest of his uniform remains on, keeping him protected from the cold air.

You don’t have that luxury, unfortunately. You’d been the one who’d gotten caught on a root and twisted your ankle, sending you into the river so quickly Adrian barely had time to turn, let alone catch you.

He’s since apologized about a hundred times for it since, even though there really was nothing he could do. It happened too fast; neither of you could do anything.

That hasn’t stopped Adrian from being visibly distraught ever since it happened. You got soaked, and, though you’ve been drying, it’s been in a— a freezing sort of way, which is not particularly helpful. You keep trying to rub at your arms, at your legs, trying to push warm sensation through your limbs, but it’s not helping. That fall also smashed your radio, and Adrian’s was destroyed when he nearly dove in after you, before you stopped him, pointing out that then neither of you would be able to get back up on the high-rise shore, the water in the river rushing far too quickly for the both of you to pull back out without assistance.

Instead, he’d turned, snapped a branch off the closest tree with his bare hands, and sprinted to lower it down to you, to haul you in closer before the current could suck you away from him. You’d grabbed onto the twigs, latched on; Adrian dragged you in with huge pulls, one after another until you were close enough for him to reach. He’d nearly fallen over into the water himself, lifting you up and out, throwing you back down onto the ground.

You’d been shivering ever since, and trying to pretend you weren’t. He feels bad enough that he couldn’t do anything more to help; every time your limbs shake, he looks over at you with this distressed expression, starts trying to offer you bits of his uniform again. It doesn’t come off in pieces like that, and it wouldn’t be warm enough over your cold clothes even if it was, but— the sentiment is there.

The two of you are supposed to be meeting the rest of the 11th Street Kids at your rendezvous point to sleep the night there at camp with them, but neither of you has any idea where you are, now. The problems with the river got you all turned around; now, neither of you know where you’re going, how to get there, or a way to contact the rest of the team to tell them what’s happened.

You’ve been looping around for hours, now, and you’re starting to lose hope. But— You can’t lose hope. Because— Because the rest of the team is out here somewhere, and you can’t let anything happen to Adrian, and you’re— cold. You’re so, so cold.

“Hey,” Adrian says, when you haven’t responded in a few moments. You’re just staring down at the ground, rubbing your arms to keep them warm over the frozen, half-damp fabric, thinking, It’ll be fine, it’ll all be fine, this is fine. “You sure you’re okay? Because you really don’t look okay and it’s kinda starting to freak me out.”

You glance up at him, brow furrowed. It takes you a second to actually process what he’s said, which— maybe you’re a little bit colder than you thought you were.

Nodding jerkily, you tell him, “Yeah, I’m okay. Just a— a little chilly.”

Adrian observes you for another beat before saying, “You— Are you sure you won’t take some of this? Like, just— I can put it on over that, or we can take that off and do, like, wilderness survival—”

“Always trying to get my c-clothes off,” you tease him, teeth chattering a little. You exhale into your palms, rubbing them together. You abandoned your wet gloves; it’s easier to just keep trying to blow hot air on them like this. “Don’t you th-think about anything else?”

Adrian huffs a half-laugh. It doesn’t sound all the way genuine; when you glance up at him again, away from your numb fingers, he’s got a frown furrowing his handsome face. He’s usually smiling, so— the frown’s honestly kind of jarring. You’re not sure you’re doing such a good job of pretending as you thought you were, but also— you’re not entirely sure you’ve got a choice on that front or not.

“Is that something that would heat you up?” Adrian asks. “‘Cause I can talk dirty, if it’ll help.”

You smile, rubbing your hands together again. At least he’s keeping your spirits up, if nothing else. “If it makes you feel like you’re doing s-something, then g-go for it.”

“I’m sure I can do something,” Adrian says. “If I’m recalling correctly, you have cum on very little more than just the nasty shit I’ve said to you before.”

“And?” you ask him. His words do give a little spark of heat, deep in your belly, but it’s too cold, and you’re too anxious, and his tone’s too off, and the situation’s too fucked up for it to turn all the way into a proper feeling. Instead, you just let that one wave of minor heat roll through you, like it’s a little warm candle-glow, a flash of hot and then gone.

“And, then, well, maybe I can help,” Adrian suggests. He’s— He’s really not looking so warm himself, but he’s not shivering like you are, not trembling apart, not half-damp and unable to— focus properly, really.

You huff into your hands again, then rub them against your thighs. The fabric hasn’t gotten any warmer, and you sigh. “Maybe I sh-should take this off. Just l-let myself really d-dry.”

“Then take this,” Adrian insists, and starts tearing off his upper uniform pieces again.

“Adrian, it’s n-not going to do anything w-without anything underneath,” you tell him. He keeps moving, and you lean over across the dirt, swatting at his arm. “Adrian. S-Stop.”

“Well, you can’t expect me to do nothing,” Adrian snaps, an abrupt outburst of frustration.

“Hey,” you snap back, a flash of anger-heat roaring up inside you. “W-Watch it, I’m not any h-happier than y-you—”

“Sorry, I’m sorry, I know,” Adrian says. He scrubs vigorously at his face, then pushes to stand in one continuous roll up to his feet. “Okay. Not gonna do any good just sitting here. Let’s— We should keep moving.”

You look up at him, reaching to wrap your arms around yourself, rubbing at your shoulders. Your legs have long since started to feel strange, a little numb, definitely stiff, and the ankle that twisted under you before hurts so fucking bad. You’re not exactly sure how to tell him, I don’t think I can do that right now, without being— being incredibly weak, and useless. You’re supposed to be a valuable member of this team— and you’re supposed to be protecting Adrian— and you’re not doing any of that. Instead, you’ve just been getting colder and colder over the last couple of hours, and now—

Now, you’re worried it’s too late. Now, you’re worried you won’t be able to walk anymore, and you’re not going to find the rest of the team, and you’re just— You’re going to end up freezing here on the ground in the woods.

In the back of your mind, you remember your survival training. You should be building yourself a shelter; you shouldn’t even be sitting directly on the ground like this. Adrian attempted multiple times to start a fire, but all the wood and kindling around is too damp to light. You should have figured out a way to get fire and warmth anyway, and yet, you’re still sitting here, just— shivering, shaking, freezing, useless. Useless.

“Hey,” Adrian says. “You’re not useless. What the shit are you talking about?”

You frown, confused, for a moment. “What?”

Adrian crouches down in front of you where you’re still folded up on the ground, knees curled near to your chest, arms wrapped around yourself. He sets his hands on your shoulders, observes you from up close.

You’ve seen Adrian up close countless times. The two of you are— Well, you’re— not friends with benefits, and you’re not— not, like, lovers, but you’re— partners, in a lot of ways. You work together, and you sleep together, and you— nearly practically live together, at this point. You think you might even love this guy, and that he might love you, but neither of you’s said that yet, or done anything to make this official. You’re— You’re afraid that Adrian won’t reciprocate, but you— You don’t know why Adrian hasn’t done the same. You assume because he doesn’t reciprocate.

The thought makes you tearful. You’re not sure why, except that you— you feel a little scrambled, now, and it might be the cold, but you want to be better than this. You are better than this.

Get a grip, you tell yourself, but your eyes just keep burning with that same prickling pain.

“Oh, hey, what’s happening?” Adrian asks, in a tone that’s so soaked through with concern that you feel all the worse for it. “Are you crying? Hey, hey, don’t cry, don’t— Do you want me to— To make you laugh? Want me to tell you jokes? Want me to— How about— Knock knock? No, fuck, that’s stupid, that won’t— Wait, why are you crying? Does something hurt? How cold— Are you that cold? Is that it?”

He reaches up, yanking his gloves off with his teeth so he can wrap his bare hands around yours, evaluating your temperature. At the touch of your freezing-cold skin against his comparatively boiling-hot touch, he inhales sharply, eyes snapping up to yours. You’re instantly melting into him, seeking more of that heat.

“Holy shit,” Adrian says before he can stop himself. “Why the— Why the fuck didn’t you tell me how bad you’d gotten, y— Holy shit, you’re so fucking cold.” He rubs your hands vigorously between his, bowing his head over them so he can blow his own warm breath over your numb fingers. “Jesus. Okay, we have to keep moving, let’s go, c’mon.”

He pulls at your arms, but you shake your head, telling him, “Adrian, I c-can’t, m-my— My l-legs are s-so—”

You’re cut off both by your mortification and by your teeth chattering. Adrian leans up, catching your face between his hands. His warm thumbs stroke along your cheeks in wide sweeps; his eyes dart over your face, then down over your body, examining you in rapid sweeps.

“Shit,” Adrian says. “You should’ve— Okay, no, you know that. You know you should’ve told me. Why the— Why the fuck didn’t you tell me?” Tears prickle at your eyes again as you shake your head. “Babe, what the f—”

“Because I th-thought we’d f-figure it out,” you choke out tearfully, shivering so hard your jaw clatters together. Adrian swipes away the tears that burn under your eyes, just then. “I th-thought we’d f-find the rest of the t-team and it’d be f-fine but it’s n-not and n-n-now you’re gonna—” You hiccup, then say, “You’re gonna b-be so m-mad at me—”

“What?” Adrian cuts you off. “No, what— I’m not mad at you! No, no, no, I’m not mad at you, I swear, I’m not mad at you. I’m just— I’m scared,” he confesses to you.

Your eyes dart up to meet his, confused. “What? A-About what?”

“About what?” Adrian echoes, incredulous. “About— About you, you— I thought you were going to drown, and then I thought you were going to— to freeze, and then I thought we were lost but— You’re still fucking freezing, I didn’t even fix this, we need— Okay, shit, I’m going to find them. I’m going to fix this, you’re going to be okay, this’ll be okay—”

“I’m s-sorry,” you tell him, trembling. “I d-didn’t m-mean—” You exhale shakily. “I’m s-so s-sorry—”

“It’s okay,” Adrian promises you. “It’s okay, stop apologizing, I promise. It’s not your fault. Can you stand?”

You evaluate yourself, then nod. You’re not actually sure if that’s true, but you want it to be true, and you have to try. When Adrian offers you his arms, you shakily unfold your own to take his hands, letting him wrap his fingers around yours. He draws you upwards, but your legs buckle under you; your weak ankle throbs, unable to support your weight, and you almost immediately crumple.

“Oh, shit— Okay, here, I got you,” Adrian says quickly. There’s so much heavy concern in his voice; you feel terrible about it, for being the reason it’s there. You should be helping him, not the other way around. “Fuck, I forgot about your fucking ankle— Let me see that, hold on.”

Adrian gingerly lowers you back down, letting you lay backwards on the cold, packed dirt below while he reaches down to unlace your boot. He’s as careful as he can be, but you still hiss through your teeth, head falling to slam into the ground, fists curling up as much as your numb fingers will go.

“Shit, fuck— I’m so sorry,” Adrian tells you. “I’m just going to look at it, okay? S— I am so sorry, I’m so sorry, fuck, I’m so, so sorry—”

His stream of apologies keeps up as he tugs your boot all the way off and rolls your sock down. When his fingers touch your ankle, peeling your damp pants up a bit, you bite down a lurch of pain in the back of your throat.

“It’s going to be okay,” he promises you. You swallow back the tears, nodding jerkily, not sure if you believe him, not willing to believe anything else. “I’ve got you, I’m going to let anything happen to you. You’re going to be okay, okay?”

You exhale, then say, “I’m s-sorry,” all over again.

Adrian pushes himself up over you so he can cup your head in his hand, pulling you up to push a rough, desperate kiss against your lips. It’s the first time you’ve really realized just how terrified he actually seems to be. He’s obviously fighting to make sure you don’t see it, but he’s clearly freaked out, and you wish you could make it better, but—

But you’re the reason he’s freaking out, and you’re the reason you’re starting to freak out a little bit, too. You’ve been pretending everything is okay, but that hasn’t made everything okay, and now you’re worried it’s really not going to be okay.

It’s making you feel impossibly vulnerable, and exposed, and weak, but you’re afraid you’ve just tipped past the point of being able to help yourself, anymore. You can’t get yourself to care about anything except Adrian in front of you, and the fact that you’ve made a total mess of things, and that you don’t know what to do, anymore, and that you’re— you’re cold, you’re so cold, and it all hurts so much—

“Hey, it’s okay,” Adrian assures you when your tears start to boil over again. “I’ve got you. It’s going to be alright. Don’t be sorry, don’t be, I’ve got you, it’s okay. C’mere.”

Adrian gets his arms under you, shifts to kneel and hoist himself back up to his feet. He lifts you up in his arms bridal-style, keeps you close. You can feel the warmth of his body, the barest hint of it through his uniform and your damp clothes. His bare hands curl beneath you; you try to curl into him, to push closer, desperate for his warmth, his touch, him.

“I’m going to find them,” Adrian promises you. “I’ll find them, and you’re going to be just fine, don’t worry. We’ll change your clothes, and get you in blankets, and— and we can even take you to a— a hospital, if we have to. You’ll be okay, it’ll be okay, nothing bad’s going to happen to you—” He stumbles, rights himself before he can fall or drop you. Cursing, he spits out, “Fuck, oh, fuck, this is so fucking bad, I wish I could— fucking remember literally any of the survival training they taught us, fuck, I’m so fucking stupid, shit, shit, shit, fuck—”

You reach up, grappling for him, trying to put your hand over his mouth to silence him. You only manage to clap your cold fingers against the side of his face, against his cheek, uncoordinated; it does the job, though, and he looks down at you, concerned.

He’s all— all bright eyes, furrowed beneath the crease of his concerned brow, and flushed cheeks, and dark hair, and a backdrop of nighttime-trees behind him, swallowing up most of the sky with the cover of leaves, keeping everything shadowed and chilled. It’s like you’re cold all the way down to your core; your only heat’s coming from him, now.

“I’m sorry,” you tell him again, the shaking inexplicably starting to subside.

The bone-deep cold inside of you has penetrated all of you, soaked in everywhere; it doesn’t even feel that cold, anymore. There’s a strange sort of warmth starting to come, now. You wonder if that’s Adrian’s doing. Your shivering is slowing, and your mind feels— content, at least, if not sluggish, and it— it could be worse.

“Hey,” Adrian says above you. “It’s okay, don’t apologize. I told you, it’s alright. As long as you’re okay, it’s alr— Hey, hey!”

His voice is sharp, and loud, all of a sudden. You frown, twisting slightly into him.

Apparently ignorant of your desire for quiet, and peace, he says, “Keep your eyes open, hey! Open your eyes back up, look up at me, don’t go falling asleep on me. Look at me. Look up at me, look at me, you look at me right now or I swear to fucking God, I am going to freak the fuck out—”

“Adrian,” you try to say, to stop him, to calm him down.

You want to add, “I’m fine,” next, but your tongue’s not even coordinated enough to get his name out; the next words definitely don’t come. Everything’s just all mashed together, incoherent; frowning, you have to force yourself to drag your eyes open. You’re not even sure when they close— You don’t even know if you did fall asleep, or if more time’s passed than you’re aware of, or what. You’re— You’re disoriented, and confused, and cold, and tired, and scared. You don’t know what to do; you can’t get yourself to do anything, you just have to trust Adrian.

And Adrian’s still above you, around you; he’s still carrying you, hauling you through the woods, not stopping, just continuously pushing onward. His voice keeps going, an endless stream of mindless talk to himself and to you, but even that breaks, eventually.

Still, Adrian doesn’t stop. He keeps going, and going, and going. You’re exhausted, and drowsy, and pained, and so fucking cold, and he must be feeling a lot of the same things, but he doesn’t stop, he keeps going, just— still moving, still moving, still moving. He’s crashing through the trees, snapping branches out of the way so twigs won’t scratch at you; he pushes onward, never fully breaks.

He’s heading in one direction, you think. Through the rush of your blood in your ears, and the way you’re straining to hear his heart in his chest, you barely notice, but he’s moving towards something— towards sound, you realize.

It takes another beat for you to realize you’re back at the river, and that— It’s— It’s frustrating, to be back where you started, but at least you kind of know where you are, here.

Or— You should know where you are, but you can’t really remember. Your thoughts keep skating away from you, skittering away from your fingers when you reach out to the concepts in your mind. The memories just won’t come together, a jumble in your head. It’s making you even more frustrated, and you’re— you’re starting to panic, a little, because this isn’t right, and you should know better—

“Whoa, hey, no, no, it’s okay, no— Stop wriggling, stop—” Adrian comes to a stop, looking down at you with open concern, terror across every inch of him. “What’s happening, what’s wrong?”

You shake your head, panicked. You can’t get the words to come out right, can’t speak coherently, can’t get yourself together, but you want to, and it’s terrifying you all the more that you can’t. Shaking your head again, you try to get your limbs to move, try to get yourself to help. It feels like— like moving through syrup, like running in a dream, and you can’t move.

All you end up doing is spilling out of Adrian’s arms, accidentally dropping yourself to the floor of the woods. He grabs at you, catches you before you can actually hit the ground, breathing out, “No, no, what are you— What are you doing?”

You’re not entirely sure, but you know that you can’t let this happen. You can’t get lost; you can’t let Adrian get lost.

“That way,” you tell him, because you— you think it’s that way, and you have to help him.

Adrian kneels behind you, catches you in his hands. It’s terrifying him, seeing you like this— seeing you sluggish, and confused, and uncoordinated, and so cold. It’s so unlike you; he always thinks of you as being so warm, relates you with the heat that you’re always spreading through him, with how hot you always make him feel. Now, as you’re staring with wild eyes at nothing, so cold you’ve stopped shivering completely, he’d do anything— anything— to keep you safe, to stop this from hurting you.

He catches you in his hands, pulls you back against him. You struggle against him, insisting, “Adrian, they’re there,” but you’re pointing at the water, and he knows that’s not right.

You— You don’t understand why he’s not listening. It’s like you’re in two different worlds, and you’re floating somewhere else, somewhere cold and strange, until Adrian tugs you in against his chest.

He can’t stand to see you this way. He knows he should keep moving, but— First, he just wants to— help. He wants to help. He wants to calm you down, and reassure you, and warm you, and let you know he’s here, and just— do what little he can, right now, when he can do barely anything at all.

You’re not entirely sure what’s happening, at first. Adrian releases you for a brief moment, but then you feel his hands tugging at the damp clothes still spread over your skin. He exposes your bare skin, and you shiver, impossibly, again, though you’re mostly numb. Shuffling you upwards, he lays something strange beneath you, something hard and soft at once. You barely feel it, but the drag is new, unnatural, and you frown at it.

Behind you, Adrian’s bare skin suddenly comes to touch yours. His chest to your shoulders, his stomach pressing into the small of your back, his legs tucking in with yours. He buries his head in your throat, covers your head with his hand, trying to trap as much heat between the two of you as he can, trying to use his body heat to warm you up.

With his armor pressed between you and the cold ground, and his body warming yours up, you’re actually starting to feel a shift in the temperature. This, more than anything else tonight, is getting through to you.

You feel heat, you feel warmth, and you laugh breathlessly.

“I feel you,” you tell him blearily.

There are tears pricking in your eyes when you reach to grab his hands. Your fingers don’t close around his, but he gets what you’re doing. He drags his own hands up for you, presses them against your cheeks, over your face. You laugh into his warm touch, feeling your own breath spreading against his palms, trapped against your skin. Inside and out, Adrian’s got you almost warming up again. He’s doing the impossible; you really— you really thought you’d never get to feel warm again.

“I feel you,” you laugh again, choking, tears in your throat. “Adrian, I feel you.” Your words are clumsy, slow, chilled, but you manage to get them out. In a burst, you know— You have to tell him, have to. “I love you.”

“What?” Adrian says behind you. His hands turn your head around, still clutching your face. You blink up at him, a weird little flare of excitement going through you when you see him. You know you’re not supposed to be focused on this right now, but looking up at him just makes you happy, and you smile.

Adrian’s expression is confused, half-horrified and half-smiling. He ducks down, pressing a warm kiss to the corner of your mouth, heat simmering through you from him to you. When he separates from you, his brow creases, more concern becoming obvious.

“I think I— I think I heard what you said, and I l— I’m s— I’m sure you’re n— You wouldn’t say this normally, and it’s all ‘cause you’re so cold and freaking out and stuff,” Adrian says, all in a rush, and you want to disagree, but your tongue is cold and clumsy and he’s still talking. “And if you don’t want to— If you don’t want me to know, I’ll let you take it back later, no questions asked, or if you don’t— don’t mean it, that’s fine, but I l— I love you, too,” Adrian confesses in a rush, “I love you, too, and I want you to know that, and I’m— I’m not going to let anything happen to you. Not anything, so you just— You just stay awake, and alive, and you just— Just— You just keep looking at me, and I’ll do all the rest.”

It’s so many words, it’s— It’s a lot, almost too much for you to follow, but you’re well-versed in understanding Adrian. It takes you a beat, and then you understand, and you can’t stop smiling, too. There’s warmth, here, even if it’s not enough to keep you actually heated; it’s keeping you warmed, and heated, and alive, this hot pulse coursing through you right now.

“Love you,” you tell him sluggishly. You reach up for his face, cold fingers dragging along. His bare skin feels so warm against yours, and it helps, but it’s not enough.

You push nearer into him, wanting more of him, and more of his warmth, and more of— all of it, all of him. He lets you do it, gets his bare arms wrapped tight around you, spread around your arms and shoulders, holding you tight to him.

“I’ve got you,” Adrian says. “I’ve got y—”

His head snaps up, then. You mean to ask what he’s doing, or saying, or what’s wrong, but your tongue won’t work right in your mouth.

“Hey!” Adrian shouts. He’s so loud, voice exploding in your ears. You flinch without meaning to, and his hand strokes your face, gentles you. Softer, he says, “Hey, hey, I’m sorry. Just— I have to shout again, just— I’m so sorry—” His hands come up to cover your ears before he calls, even louder this time, “Hey! Hey, over here! C’mere, hey! Who is that— Hey! Hey, hey, oh, oh, thank— Thank fuck, thank fucking shit, please, please, help me— Please, come on, I need your help—”

You don’t know if he’s talking to you, or to someone else, or— You don’t know who he’s talking to, really. You hear his voice, and you don’t understand it, muffled and confused. Frowning up at him, you see him look back down at you with obvious excitement on his face. It’s bewildering, after how upset he was before. You don’t understand.

“It’s Leota,” Adrian tells you. “She found us, they found us. You’re going to be okay, you’re okay. I’ve got you.” He kisses your temple roughly, then your cheek, your forehead, your mouth. “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. We’re so close, and you’ll be so warm, new clothes and— and a fire, you’ll be okay, it’ll be okay—”

You manage a jerky nod. He clutches your face, kisses you, then pushes to stand again. You want his body back, want his heat back, but you at least understand why he’s doing this.

Staggering to his feet, Adrian gets you back in his arms, starting to push himself in— in, presumably, the direction of Leota and the rest of the team, and that’s when it really clicks. You’re going to be okay. It’s— Everything will be okay, now.

“What the fuck happened?” Leota’s voice demands, as Adrian carries you closer to her. You could cry, for relief you feel hearing her voice. “Where did you go— Oh, my God—”

“Please,” Adrian says. “I need— We need to warm— We have to—”

“Okay, yes— God, okay,” Leota says in a rush. Her hand touches your forehead. “Shit. Okay, we can do this. Come on, follow me.”

She pulls out her own radio; you hear the crackle of the static, the voices going in and out of it. You lose a little bit of time, you think, or you don’t understand what’s happening. It’s cold, and confusing; you’re disoriented, until you focus on Adrian’s hands on your face again, on his voice wrapping around you, now.

“Hey,” Adrian says, his voice soft, coaxing. You’re realizing, now, that you’re starting to feel warm all over. That cold is finally leaving, replaced with an all-over warmth.

You shift, and your limbs don’t hurt quite so bad. Someone’s touching your ankle— not Adrian, presumably, since he’s cradling your face between his warm hands— and wrapping the sprained joint, swelling flesh tender beneath their touch.

Looking downward, you see Emilia at your feet, bandages wrapping around your leg. She offers you a flicker of a smile before looking back down at her work again.

Dragging up, starting to absorb the warmth you’re feeling, you realize you’re in dry clothes, now. They’re Adrian’s pajamas, a pair of the sleep clothes he packed for the mission, warm pajama pants and a soft, loose, dry sweater of a top. You’re bundled in blankets, several layers of quilts and throws and sleeping bags, mostly concealed except for your feet— now being tucked into thick socks and pushed into your blanket-bundle— and your head.

Adrian’s tugging a warm hat down over your head, which might’ve been what woke you up all the way, this time. The warmth, and tugging, is so good, a new blossoming that is awakening a delicious sort of relief in you.

He pulls the warm cap over your head, soft material coming over your head, your ears, trapping the heat there. Cradling you close— his own body finally warm and dry and covered in new clothes, too— Adrian kisses your cheek, your nose, your lips, this time. He laughs, breathless, and then wet, clutching you closer.

“I love you,” he confesses. “I know— I know I said you could take it back, and you can, really, but I— I don’t want to, not after— not after that, I don’t— I mean it, I do—”

You’re barely coordinated, the new warmth only just spreading, but you’ve got enough to reach up. Your fingers have been put in mittens, but you wrestle your arm free.

Wriggling it up, you get your mittened hand over Adrian’s flushed cheek. You manage a smile, and tell him, “I love you, too.”

He smiles, so wide and crinkling and joyous. It seems like he’s about to speak again, then, before Chris appears behind him, dropping another armful of blankets over Adrian’s head, down his back, with a soft, heavy fwhump.

“Put the fucking blankets on before you freeze to death, Adrian,” Chris instructs him. “Holy shit, (Y/N) is fine. Stop freaking out and get in the goddamn blankets.”

Adrian huffs, waving him off, saying, “I’m fine, leave me alone,” but he’s flushed, and accepts the winter hat Chris tugs down over his dark curls with a warm, “Thanks, buddy.”

“Don’t mention it,” Chris says. “Lay down.”

This time, Adrian does as told, burying himself in the covers with you. He gets his body close to yours, burrowing into your blanket burrito with you, before he wraps and spreads the new covers around you both, making sure to swallow you in warm, dry heat.

“You’re going to be okay,” Adrian murmurs, so close, so warm, so sweet. “I love you. You’re okay. I got you now.”

He’s said it all night, and meant it all night, and it’s true, now, as it’s been true the whole time. He promised you’d be okay, and you are; he said you’d keep you warm, and he did; he told you he loves you, and he does. You’re both okay, and alive, and warming up so splendidly, filling up with all that impossible heat. You hadn’t realized how much you loved it, wanted it, needed it, until you almost lost it, until you didn’t have it anymore. Now— Now, you can’t let it go.

Adrian’s that heat, and you pull him in, absorbing him as much as you have the warmth, and he does the same with you.

“I love you,” you tell him again, warmer now, able to speak, able to feel it, able to know. “Adrian. I love you.”

He kisses your cheek, brings you all that warmth, too. Echoed in him, echoed in you, shared together. All warmth, all heat, all him. All him.

“I love you,” he promises you, too. Kisses the corner of your mouth, kisses the space under your eyes, kisses the side of your nose. “Love you. So, so much, I love you. Love you, love you, love you,” and he keeps you all warm, and soft, and close, and you know he’s telling the truth. “I love you.”

adrian chase taglist:

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in-som-niyah · 2 months

Text

"𝖄𝖔𝖚 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖔𝖑𝖎𝖛𝖊 𝖙𝖗𝖊𝖊 𝖙𝖔 𝖒𝖞 𝖉𝖊𝖘𝖊𝖗𝖙"

"𝘕𝘰𝘸 𝘮𝘺 𝘮𝘢𝘥𝘯𝘦𝘴𝘴 𝘪𝘴 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘰𝘯𝘭𝘺 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘦 𝘐 𝘭𝘦𝘵 𝘮𝘺𝘴𝘦𝘭𝘧 𝘦𝘮𝘣𝘳𝘢𝘤𝘦"

𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+ 𝟏𝟖+

𝐎𝐩𝐞𝐧 𝐅𝐢𝐥𝐞:

𝐍𝐚𝐦𝐞: 𝐍𝐢𝐲𝐚𝐡 𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐜𝐚𝐧 𝐀𝐠𝐞: 𝟐𝟑 𝐇𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝟓'𝟐" 𝐖𝐞𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭: 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐄𝐲𝐞 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤-𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐇𝐚𝐢𝐫 𝐂𝐨𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐫: 𝐁𝐫𝐨𝐰𝐧 𝐑𝐚𝐜𝐞: 𝐁𝐥𝐚𝐜𝐤 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐨𝐨𝐝: 𝐌𝐚𝐭𝐭𝐡𝐚𝐢 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲: 🇹🇹 𝐔𝐧𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐢𝐭𝐲: 𝐂𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐒𝐈𝐅𝐈𝐄𝐃 𝐅𝐚𝐯𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐞 𝐅𝐫𝐮𝐢𝐭: 𝐒𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐩 𝐍𝐚𝐭𝐮𝐫𝐚𝐥 𝐇𝐚𝐛𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐭: 𝐈𝐧 𝐛𝐞𝐝, 𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐨𝐥𝐥𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐀𝐎𝟑 𝐚𝐭 𝟎𝟐:𝟎𝟎𝐚𝐦

𝐍𝐨𝐰 𝐏𝐥𝐚𝐲𝐢𝐧𝐠:

🇶🇺🇮🇨🇰 🇱🇮🇳🇰🇸…

ᴍᴀꜱᴛᴇʀʟɪꜱᴛ

ᴀꜱᴋ ʀᴜʟᴇꜱ

ⓘ 𝘌𝘷𝘦𝘳𝘺𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘰𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘪𝘴 𝘣𝘭𝘰𝘨 𝘣𝘦𝘭𝘰𝘯𝘨𝘴 𝘵𝘰 @𝘪𝘯-𝘴𝘰𝘮-𝘯𝘪𝘺𝘢𝘩 𝘰𝘳 𝘵𝘩𝘦𝘪𝘳 𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘱𝘦𝘤𝘵𝘪𝘷𝘦 𝘰𝘸𝘯𝘦𝘳𝘴.

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therandomartmaker · 2 years

Text

The Basics

Heya! I’m June/Jun/Junnii, and any pronouns can be used! This Blog only exists as a way to get my thoughts out and share ideas, as well as a spot for maybe my readers on AO3 if they make their way here.

Please DM or comment on an artwork to be added to the art taglist. Or! Check out my art under the tag #randomartmaker art

Fandom List

Seen Canon

Bnha, harry potter (I do NOT support terfs), omniscient reader’s viewpoint, trash of the counts family (manhwa), jujutsu kaisen, zelda (specifically Linked Universe and BOTW/TOTK), MCU, twisted wonderland, the king’s avatar, lord of the mysteries, a lot of chinese bl novels, fullmetal alchemist (brotherhood only), Debut or Die (manhwa), Katekyou Hitman Reborn, Assassination Classroom, Ghost Trick, Demon Slayer (KnY), Spider-verse, DCMK

Not Seen Canon (you will find that i am fully willing to deepdive fandoms i’ll never touch the canon of)

Danny Phantom, DCU, DSMP (i don’t care abt the streamers, just the characters), Naruto, Gravity Falls, SPN, S-Classes That I Raised, WMMAP, Persona 5, Omori, OFF

Personalised Tags | My AO3 | More About Me

#intro post #pinned post #randomartmaker art #randomartmaker ao3

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meduarts · 2 years

Text

Managing Life (Part 2/?)

Disclaimer: I do not own MLB or DCU.

Pairings: Dick Grayson/Marinette Dupain-Cheng

Taglist: @timinette-is-bestbest, @peach-blueberry-pie, @tinybrie, @taewinterbear95, @its-maemain, @flyhighdreamer, @kokoroluna @kitsun3699 @lilfuturescarss @kaimodius @sinoffalsejudgement @night-ngale @laydeekrayzee @fauxnormal @stella17luna @plz-excuse-my-inner-gay @ae-vixrose (Tell me if you want to be a part of the taglist!)

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Bruce Wayne sighed heavily, he could feel a telltale headache coming from miles away. His personal assistant had given him a letter of notice and he had now just figured out how dependent he is on his assistant. Fortunately, he managed to beg, yes he had to beg, his assistant to wait until he could find someone to replace them.

Not to mention the death of his son, Jason, had hit him hard. He admits that he was too late but really what can he do? He wants to kill the Joker but that would mean going against his code. And killing the Joker wouldn't bring Jason back, no matter how much he wanted to bring him back.

Now, he has another son that somehow found out his identity and actually picked up the pieces and demands he takes the kid as the new Robin. Bruce is slowly moving on but the thought of his dead son is still a heartache that he wasn't sure would heal. Dick is trying his best but even he knows that the boy is falling apart.

He sighed heavily, he was tired and lost. Everything constant in his life is changing, slowly but surely and he is not ready. His head began to pound and he tried to soothe it by massaging the bridge of his nose.

His headache came again at the same time his phone rang and that almost made him whine. He picked up the call and cleared his throat. "This is Bruce Wayne speaking."

"Bruce darling! How are you on this fine evening?"

"Audrey...Why did you call?"

"Such coldness from you! Is Brucie Wayne a fake all this time? I'm hurt!"

Bruce groaned out, his head pounding like crazy, "I don't have time for this, Audrey. My assistant gave me their letter of notice days ago and I haven't found a replacement yet. If you have, Oh I don't know, a perfectly reliable assistant laying around in your office then I suggest we end this call because I am this close to breaking my phone for the tenth time."

She laughed at his misery. He could feel his eye twitch.

"I'm hanging up." Why he became friends with Audrey Bourgeois was always one of the many questions he has in his life. Somehow, the bossy blonde decided in Highschool that she would be friends with Bruce and she had stuck to that promise ever since. Honestly, Bruce has learned to not question the way of the universe.

"Wait!" She snorts and finally took a deep breath to compose herself.

"I might have answers for your predicament! My apprentice/assistant/secretary is looking for a new mentor! One that could teach her the ways of a big business should operate! Perhaps, I can introduce you to her!" She offered between her giggles.

Bruce frowned, to be completely honest he had done many interviews and none of the candidates is the perfect assistant that could replace them, he had nothing to lose. "I'm interested."

"Good, I'll schedule a dinner for the three of us at some point during your gala week."

"I hope you're not pranking me again. I had enough grievances lately that'll last a while."

Audrey laughed again at his misery. Why was he friends with this designer again? Right, she ordered him to be one.

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Marinette made sure that everything had been acquainted before she and Audrey leave Paris for the Wayne Gala. She made sure that the Secretaries of every division in the company know what was going to happen when she was gone for the week.

Fortunately for her, everyone in Style Queen respects her and her decision-making skills. How could they not? She was one of the reasons why Style Queen had been advancing at rapid speed during those 3 years when she became a permanent team member.

No messed up meetings, their profit margin had increased, their designs were always at the top of the chart, their galas were always a hit, and their fashion show had become one of the most awaited fashion shows in years, and to top it all off there has been zero firing and quitting during those 3 years. They didn't even need to pay for extra therapists for the emotional damage caused by Audrey!

A miracle? Yes. A blessing from the Gods? Definitely. Is Marinette the Messiah that the Style Queen company had been waiting for? Most Definitely.

Did the Style Queen employees made a cult to worship the ground that Marinette walks on? Allegedly.

Anyways, after confirming the things that needed to be done she called for a staff assembly and hand them folders as well as pdf files in USB about their schedule for the next week. She made sure that if anything happened in the company while she was away to immediately contact her.

Now, she stood in front of Audrey while listing off the things that should be done during their week in Gotham.

"Right Mme Bourgeois. our agenda during our week in Gotham is as follows, Monday, we'll check on our branch in Gotham, I also book that dinner with M Wayne at 7 p.m. Tuesday, we have a photoshoot in Gotham Garden, I also made sure to up the security in case the rogues decided to attack and a failsafe location outside Gotham so that we can continue our shoot peacefully.

Tuesday night will be your fitting for your gown and we will be doing that in your room. Wednesday will be reserved fully for the progress report with our company. Thursday will be reserved for the Wayne family fitting as well which will be done in the afternoon. I made sure to clear Friday and Saturday morning to afternoon. Saturday night is the gala and Sunday we will board the plane to Paris." Marinette finished while rechecking the schedule on her tablet.

"Fabulous! I know I can always count on you Marinette!" Audrey clapped her perfectly manicured hands and winked at her secretary.

"Of course, Are there any problems that you would like to point out from the schedule?"

"Non," Audrey answered nonchalantly. "So, Marinette. Have you made up your mind about what I said days ago?"

Marinette puts away her tablet and fixed the pink-rimmed horse kwami glasses that she decides to take today to match her outfit. "Actually, I did. You are right Madame, I need to spread my wings and take a leap of faith."

"Excellent! You will be coming to the dinner on Monday, yes?"

"I- Yes, you did order me to attend the dinner with M Wayne."

"Good! Now, have the rest of the day off! I shall see you tomorrow evening, yes?"

Marinette blinked slowly, "Yes, Madame. Uh... thank you." She bowed shortly and left the office without another word. She could actually feel that Audrey was planning something behind her back and she doesn't want to know what her plans were.

Well, a whole afternoon off, is a rare thing to occur. "Should I spend the rest of the day holed up in my apartment sketching or holed up in my regular cafe sketching?" She asked Kaalki who was hiding in her breast pocket.

"Why not take a stroll in the park? The weather is great today, Guardian!"

"An astounding idea! Let's go!" She cheered and made a brisk walk to her office. She packed up her things, say a few goodbyes to the staff that she met along the way, and left the building. She quickly made her way to a cafe nearby, bought herself a coffee strong enough that she was sure it could raise a dead body and walked to the park that Kaalki had mentioned.

There was an open seat near the park's walking trek and immediately bee-lined her way there, took out her sketchbook, and let the horse kwami make a comfortable perch on her lap. As the Great Guardian, she had managed to find the right spell to mask the kwami's presence with a layered illusion, even a former holder couldn't spot them since Marinette willed it so.

"So, Grand Guardian...Who is this Wayne person?"

Marinette hummed for a moment, trying to find the right answer. "Well, he's a businessman, he owns a multibillion company called the Wayne Enterprise, it has many branches across the world and they have many divisions as well, though none of them focuses on fashion. Which is unfortunate but I digress." She explained patiently.

"Whoaa, is he rich then??" Kaalki gushed excitedly.

"Well, he is a millionaire think he's going to be a billionaire soon. So yeah, I think you can call him rich."

The aristocratic kwami gasped loudly, "You should have him as your mentor! You could be a millionaire too!"

Marinette laughed merrily, "I don't think that's how it works but I'll consider that."

"Oh Guardian, I can already sense it! It must be fate! Perhaps you can even marry the man!"

The designer was drinking her coffee and spitting it out when she heard the kwami's excited ramble. She coughed a few times trying to regain her composure, "K-kaalki, that man is old enough to be my father! Besides, he has kids already!"

"What about his kids then?"

"A- K-kaalki! You will stay out of my romantic life! I-i can find a suitable person to date!"

Kaalki gave her a deadpanned look, "Yeah, uh-huh sure you do."

"Kaalkiii!!!" Marinette whined exasperatedly. "Can we please stop this conversation??"

The kwami just giggled and made themselves comfortable on her lap. Marinette huffed and rubbed her face tiredly, yeah she knows that her love life had been a disaster but she didn't need the little creature gods to butt in. She's perfectly fine on her own, sure it's lonely but if she has work to do it distracts her from feeling that loneliness.

Honestly, dating one of the Wayne kids. That's a laugh!

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Marinette sighed as she rolled her neck and heard a few pops from it. Traveling to Gotham is a pain in the ass and she hopes she doesn't have to do it again anytime soon. She had brought a couple of kwamis with her for the trip, not that she wanted to use them to gallop across the roof of Gotham City as a hero or vigilante, she just didn't want to leave them at home alone.

She was wearing the dragon's choker, Tikki's earrings, and the turtle's bracelet that she had charmed to change the designs so that it'll fit with her outfit. Wayzz gave her a wave of comforting magic towards their bond and Marinette stroked the bracelet gently in gratitude.

Thankfully, everything went smoothly. Marinette made sure the hotel room for Audrey is good enough for the bossy queen and after that she could finally throw herself on her hotel bed. Her head was pounding but she still picked herself up and began to unpack.

"Marinette! This town is oozing with an unlucky aura and chaos! I think Kaalki was on to something when she said something about fate!" Exclaimed Tikki as she observes the city through the glass.

"I told you!" Kaalki yelled from the other side of the room.

Marinette frowns to herself and decided to flare her magic to get a better sense of the City of Crime. Yep, Tikki was right, everything is oozing with bad luck miasma, and darkness surrounding parts of the city. Everything is gloomy and depressing, no wonder the people of Gotham are miserable.

"You're right, Tikki." She stood from the floor and walked to the big window overseeing the city. "It's coated with Bad Luck and Chaos."

"We should stay here and purify this mess!" Pollen offered while floating next to Marinette's head.

"I don't think we should be that rash. Let's see what fate got for us. In the meantime, does anyone wants to go with me to buy snacks?"

A series of 'yes' from the childish gods made her head lighter than before.

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Monday starts out as a pleasant day for her, she managed to make all the snacks for the kwamis and bake the pastries that Audrey love so much for breakfast. Everything was smooth and it lifted Marinette's spirit. There was no schedule for today morning and Marinette debated to herself if she wants to go out and find inspiration for her design or not.

There's something about Gotham that made her blood pump in adrenaline and she's pretty sure it is her innate guardian magic telling her to go ahead and purify the city. She looked at the kwamis who are lounging and made up her mind.

"Hey Plagg, Do you want to come with me and explore Gotham before dinner?"

The cat kwami in question brighten up and zoomed across the room in excitement. "Alright!!! Let's enjoy the day with extra CHAOS!"

Marinette laughs and took off Tikki's earrings to put on Plagg's ring. She took her large canvas bag, her sketchbook, and her art supply. She made sure the kwamis are comfortable enough and told them to not make a mess when she was out.

Once she's out, with Plagg securely in her bag, she trusted her instinct and found herself entering a park. It was a nice day and looking around at the different architecture near the park she found herself an empty seat nearby. She lets Plagg perch himself on her shoulder while she dug out her sketchbook and start sketching away her ideas.

Not long after that she felt someone took a seat next to her, she glanced to her side and found a man nearing his 40s slumping next to her. She could feel the sorrow and sadness lingering around the man and Marinette being Marinette couldn't sit still.

Marinette could've sworn the man looked familiar and even though she became a very competent assistant to Audrey, she couldn't for the love of God remember the faces she had seen before. If they are known figures in the fashion world, she might recognize them but otherwise, she would forget them, rich or not.

The girl closed her sketchbook, which the man took notice of.

"I'm sorry, I'm not bothering you, am I?" He asked with a polite smile.

The girl shook her head and smiled warmly at the man, "Non, monsieur. I just couldn't help but notice how sad you are."

The man blinked, obviously shocked at her, and gave her a small weak smile. "I guess you can say that..." He chuckled mirthlessly.

Marinette hummed, "Are you grieving?" She asked quietly.

The man looked towards the park and she could see the dark aura around him seemingly trying to choke the man. He nodded silently and took a shaky breath. "My son." He muttered quietly.

She nodded in silence, she rummaged through her canvas bag and took out a charmed amulet that she had been working on with Master Fu before his passing. She looked away from the amulet and found Plagg giving her an encouraging smile. She knew that this was the right thing to do and so she cupped the amulet in her hands and said, "I'm sorry for your loss...No parents should bury their children."

The man sniffed and nodded, "Thank you."

"Though you have to walk this winding road, stumbling blindly in this dark path, there will always be a path of light that will help you find your way." She advised with a warm smile. Master Fu had told her that when she was grieving for the loss of her friendship and the weight she had to carry as Ladybug.

Slowly she reached out to take his hand and gently put the charmed amulet in it. "You just need to do the next right thing." She uttered softly and sent waves of comforting magic to the amulet. Hoping that it would lift the man's spirit and help him find hope. She then took her bag and left the man staring at the amulet.

Marinette quickly left the park and bought herself a coffee before returning to her hotel where she gets ready for dinner. Her heart felt full knowing she helped someone even if it was just a little bit. She hoped that one act of random kindness could lift a little bit of the bad luck aura in Gotham.

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Bruce Wayne just wanted time to compose himself. He had a lapse of grieving thoughts when he looked at Jason's picture. So he left his office to find a place where he could grieve freely. The mansion still has memories of Jason and he couldn't stand the guilt that is eating him inside. He found a nearby park and took a seat next to a young woman who was busy sketching. He didn't really expect anything would come out of this walk in the park, but he was pleasantly surprised that the young woman beside him had given him a random act of kindness that had left him a bit speechless.

He was looking at the emerald amulet on his hand and somehow he felt lighter than he ever felt in the past few months. Odd. He decided to bench any negative thoughts to ready himself for the dinner reservation tonight.

TBC

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A/N: Next chapter would be the dinner! Stay tuned!

#maribat #platonic brucinette #platonic jasonette #dickinette #marinette as secretary #Managing Life AU #mlb x dc #dc x mlb #mlb crossover #mlb x batman #platonic timinette #platonic daminette #marinette x gotham #marinette x batfam #marinette x dick #maridick #marinette dupain cheng

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