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eccentricwritingbaby · 3 days

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baby finn series, babysitting and date nights

series list - house divided - bedtime stories - sneaking onto stream

lando norris x mom!wife!reader

summary - uncle carlos comes over to babysit finn as you and your husband enjoy a night out.

masterlist

when lando had finally turned the latch of the lock to your shared home, he let out an exhausted sigh. he had been in the sim all day with a long road ahead of him in order to secure a win. he was drained. he had been there the entire day, missing dinner and almost missing bedtime. all he wanted was to hug his young son, kiss his beautiful wife, and take a long hot shower. the universe, however, had other plans.

opening the door, lando was met with baby finn running circles around you in nothing but his diaper. you locked eyes with your husband and he could feel the exhaustion that you were exhibiting, too. finn wasn’t being bad, he was just being a kid. he had loads of energy that you and lando could usually keep up with in high spirits, but, work had been kicking both of your asses. you were both burning out.

“finn, honey, please it’s time for your bath,” you let out a sigh, bringing your hand up to brush the hair out of your face. lando walks over to assess the situation fully, bringing your tired body into his arms for a hug. you slump against him as he kisses your forehead and locks eyes with his son.

“finn. bath. now,” your husband puts his foot down and your son happily runs towards the bathroom, not grasping the exhaustion or irritation of his parents - thankfully. one thing neither of you ever did was push your problems onto your son, and you never wanted to.

“thank you, i’ll head in there in a min-” you begin but your husband cuts you off with a kiss.

“no, we agreed you’d take the morning, i’ll take bedtime. i’ve got this,” lando replies with a swipe to your bum.

“but you look tired, love-”

“so do you. it’s alright, who knows? maybe finn’s innocent energy will rub off on me, eh?” you chuckle at his question and wordlessly nod before he continues, “go get ready for bed, i’ll call you right in,” one more smack to your bum and lando is heading into the bathroom to start his son’s nightly routine as you follow his polite orders to take care of yourself.

around a half hour later, lando is calling you into finn’s room for a cuddle and a tuck into bed. as you arrive, you can see finn slowly losing his energy cuddled into your husband’s arms, letting out a yawn.

“is my sweet boy tired?” you question towards your son, seeing lando nod his head yes as finn lets go of a quiet ‘so much mommy’.

“i think he had a case of the late night zoomies,” lando lets out a laugh as he gently sets his son into bed, proceeding to get him comfortable under the blankets. you both then lean down, kissing his forehead, wishing him a good night's sleep, and reminding him you’d see him in the morning. after the lights are off and the door cracked a bit open, lando leads you down the hall towards your bedroom with a firm hand on your lower back.

you collapse onto the bed in a huff once you enter, leading your husband to quietly laugh at you - still cautious of the sleepy boy down the hall.

“i’m heading to shower, love. care to join?” lando offers with eyes wide and smile even larger. you grant him a feverish nod and begin to follow behind him eagerly as he giggles.

once you were both stripped and into the steamy shower, lando’s body slumped against yours, his back being attacked by the hot water and his head resting on your shoulder. you run your hand gently through his wet curls as he lets out a deep sigh.

“wanna talk about it?” you whisper into his hair. lando shakes his head and mumbles into your shoulder, “could you repeat that, love?” you giggle, shaking your shoulder a bit to move lando’s face out of your neck and into your view. his hands grip your waist as yours are guided to rest on either side of his face.

“i just want to relax, we haven’t had a day just us to relax, i miss my wife,”

“i miss you too but that’s the life of parents, lan. maybe if you had pulled out three year-”

“alright, alright,” he exclaims, “you don’t need to harp on my pullout game for me to get the picture” he laughs while reaching behind you to grab some body wash.

“i do agree we need a small break, though,” you sigh, “work has been draining me, i don’t want it to affect finn,”

“ya know who’s in town next week, love?” lando’s eyes sparkle as he asks, prompting you to laugh and let out a shake of your head, urging him to continue, “carlos,”

“okay, bud. uncle los will be here very soon, do you remember what we talked about?” lando is on one knee, bent at your son’s level and looking oh so fine. his black button up with most of the top buttons loose, the dark pants to go with it and the chains dangling from his neck already had you worked up, but the adorable nature of his fatherhood? now that’s hot.

“yes, daddy,” your son replies, you can tell he’s attempting to hold in his excitement as much as he can as he is almost vibrating due to his little bursts of energy.

“can you tell me again, bubs?” lando holds onto his son’s hands, searching his eyes at an attempt to really have finn understand the importance.

“um, say pwease and tank you!”

“very good, what else?”

“be nice,”

“good, bubs, anything else?”

“do what uncle los say?” finn adds his last answer with an unsure smile as he eyes his dad with a tilted head. lando chuckles at his son’s cuteness and kisses his head, nodding in confirmation for your son to listen to his babysitter for the night.

“and help him out, baby. if he needs anything, okay?” you add on, making your entrance in the room known. lando looks over to you and it seems as if his heart stopped, but it hadn’t. if anything it was beating so fast it could've flown out of his chest. standing up from his position on the ground, he makes his way over to you, mouth agape, eyes raking your figure, and head slowly shaking left to right.

“you look…” your husband drinks in your appearance again, eyes scanning you from head to toe, “absolutely breathtaking,” he finishes off, his right hand coming over to hold his heart.

“thank you, my love,” you giggle a bit, stepping to him in order to plant a kiss to his cheek, “you clean up pretty nice, too,” you shoot him a wink, walking past him and towards your son.

“thanks for walking away, dear. this view is much better,” lando lets out a chuckle, eyes not daring to drift from your ass, until your head swivels - and he catches your smile.

“anytime, baby,” you laugh at his antics, leading him on as you bend over to grab your son, slower than usual. you hear a deep groan come from lando but before anymore comments were made, the doorbell rang throughout the home. finn drops from your arms, beginning his race to the door.

“finn! wait until i open the door!” lando shouts, jogging over to where your toddler was attempting to reach the handle.

“i big like you dada! i do it!” finn jumps again, trying with all his little might to reach the handle. lando comes behind him, scooping him up from behind and holding him near the handle and lock.

“alright, go ahead big boy,” lando urges his son to open the door, and when he does, his excited shrieks are all that fill the house.

“UNCLE LOS!” finn has wiggled out of his fathers’ grasp and already launched himself into carlos’ arms.

“hola, pequeño,” the ferrari driver lets out with a chuckle.

“i so excited you here!” finn is squirming up and down in carlos’ arms as the adults all just laugh at the adorable kid. lando pulls him out of carlos’ arms for one more brief chat about his behavior as you hand carlos the important babysitting list.

“basically, it's all the numbers you don’t already have, like fewtrell and i think my mom, and then his schedule is here,” you continue briefing carlos as lando begins to stand and make his way back to you, “you don’t have to be too strict about this, just have fun,” you assure carlos at the end of the run through.

“i’ve got it, you guys have fun. finn and i sure will,” carlos begins to usher you two out the door, a hyper-active three year old seemingly glued to his leg.

“call if you need anything, and i mean anything,” lando emphasizes to his friend.

“lando. it will be fine, you muppet. go enjoy your night with your wife, i’m going to catch up with mi amigo, finn, here,” at this point he is pushing you and your husband out the door and you both laugh at the door shutting in your faces. lando extends his arm for you to hold with a ‘m’lady’, and you both make your way to the restaurant.

at the restaurant, the maître d' guides you to your table and lando proceeds to pull out the chair for you to take your seat. both now seated, he begin to ask what drinks to begin with, lando responding with his and you responding with ‘just a water, please’. walking away to fulfill your orders, lando spares you an odd glance.

“it’s our night off, love. you didn’t want to get a drink?”

“no, just a water will do it for me,” you respond quick, your husband still eyeing you with oddity, “im glad we’re doing this,” you continue, reaching across the table to hold his hand in yours.

“me too, a night just to ourselves was very needed,” he lets out with a smile.

“i just hope our boy isn’t causing too much chaos at home,” you sigh, the waiter coming over to take your orders and drop off your drinks. lando just mumbles a ‘they’ll be fine’ almost to assure himself before placing his order.

“vroom! vroom!” finn squeaks out on the floor, rolling his red ferrari cars around the living room. carlos joins in with a laugh, proceeding to hold his own decorated sainz55 car - finn’s most prized possession - and run it around their make-shift track. he quickly pulls out his phone to capture the moment and ease the parents minds.

“finn, look here! it’s for mommy and daddy, smile!” carlos instructs the little boy. finn looks up, letting out a huge smile and giggle, before crawling into the ferrari drivers lap. one more picture - a selfie this time - of finn clinging onto carlos’ neck, and carlos hits a quick send to his friends.

“here, honey,” lando pulls his phone out and sends it your way in order for you to also see the adorable array of photos your babysitter had sent.

“well aren’t they having fun?” you place a hand over your heart as you speak, too in awe of the little chubby cheeked smile staring back at you.

“this was a grand idea,” your husband reiterates, putting his phone away into his pocket after typing a response back. you both share a look and a smile, before continuing your previous conversation and finishing your food.

making it home a little past finn’s bedtime, you both didn’t know what you would walk into. bedtime was finn’s only struggle, therefore him being awake when you arrived home wouldn’t be out of the ordinary for what both you and your husband expect.

except, when you walk in, your house is clean, quiet, and calm. carlos stands from the couch in order to greet the both of you, while you’re both scrambling to pick your jaws off the floor.

“i’m assuming it went well?” you ask with a laugh while carlos brings you into a light hug.

“si, finn was a gentlemen. he passed out on the couch by seven and i just carried him into his room after that,” you and lando share a look of disbelief before carlos continues, “we played with some cars, ate some dinner, watched a movie, and he went down really easily,”

“can you move in?” lando pops the question into the conversation as carlos laughs off the request, “i’m serious, sainz,” your husband pushes again.

“did you two enjoy your night?” the ferrari driver ignores his friends jokes, directing his attention to you.

“we did, thank you so much for this, carlos,” you respond with a smile, “we really appreciate it,”

carlos gives you another hug goodbye and you begin to make your way towards finn’s room to check on him as lando walks carlos out, continuing his pestering of ‘how did you do it, mate?’ and ‘you don’t understand he hates bedtime’.

you stand in the doorway of your son’s room for some time, admiring the sleepy boy all cozy under his racecar blankets. feeling a hand on your waist, you turn and catch your husband in a kiss.

“let’s go to bed, love,” he offers once you break apart. you give him a silent nod, and you both make your way into your bedroom - lando stealing one last glance at your son.

walking into your bedroom, you discard your heels and begin to unzip your dress.

“ah, ah,” lando stops your movements, replacing your hands on the zipper with his own, “allow me,” you giggle a bit as he continues to unzip your dress, letting it pool onto the floor. he pulls your back into him and begins to pepper your skin with sweet and sensual kisses as you blush in his hold, “we still need to make baby number two,” he mumbles into your skin while continuing his kisses. your body stiffens, lando feeling and understanding the tension releases your body and turns you to face him.

“what is it, y/n? do you not want another baby anymore?” he asks quietly, as if he’s scared of your answer.

“no, no. it’s not that,” you reply, head hanging down to stare at your feet.

“then what is it?” lando cups your chin in his hands with his question, forcing you to meet his eyes.

“it’s just that,” you sigh, searching lando’s eyes, “we don’t need to keep trying, if there’s already a baby on the way,”

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moremaybank · 2 days

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okay I still cannot stop thinking about best friend jj and reader. Its mentioned her parents have body shamed her in the past and her mom makes that comment about her hips. What if it really got to her at one point and JJ is the only one who noticed. Not like a full blown eating disorder thankfully but that he noticed her skipping meals and he had to sit her down on his lap and tell her she was perfect...sorry just me thinking lol

eeek! first in between au request! thank you for the continuous love ♡︎ warnings reader skipping meals, body shaming (r's parents), bsf!jj being a sweetheart as usual [1k]

At first, it wasn’t a big deal.

JJ was well aware that sometimes, when you were stressed, you’d forget to eat. He’d urge you to at least steal a few pieces of food off his plate (okay, maybe more than a few), and his mind would be at peace knowing that you were now fed and taken care of.

But soon, he noticed that it became a daily thing. You’d tell him you weren’t hungry, or that you’d already eaten earlier, but then, he’d hear your stomach growling and watch you blatantly ignore it. You looked exhausted all the time, your physical strength was depleting. He’d watch you grow snappy at the smallest things, watch the way you’d pick at your food and move it around on your plate mindlessly every time you two ate together. Then, you’d dismiss his concerns with a forced smile.

After a few weeks had gone by, and your actions had remained the same, he knew something was up. He couldn’t stand to see you become a shell of who you usually were. There was no spark of wonder in your eyes. It was like all your hope had been sucked out of you.

He also knew that your family was hard on you when it came to your body. And it sucked to admit, but at the beginning, he hadn't thought too much of it. Now, though, something was going on with his favourite girl and he was determined to get to the bottom of it.

“Hey, you feel like goin’ to the Wreck? I'm feelin’ a seafood boil right now.”

You simply shrugged him off, your gaze remaining on the work in front of you. You’d been consumed in it all day, barely even blinking an eye in JJ’s general direction.

“Not really hungry. I can come with you, though?”

Approaching you at your seat in front of your desk, his hands pried the pen from your hand, and he placed it down on the wooden surface. Then, he crouched down to get a better look at you.

“What’s goin’ on with you?”

You turned away from him, scared of looking into his eyes. His tone indicated that you’d been caught. You should’ve known that he would pick up on your change in demeanour sooner or later.

It was JJ.

Getting things past him simply was not a thing. It never was.

Still, though, you’d make the effort even if it proved to be pointless. You weren’t sure the honesty was worth seeing the disappointment on his face.

“Nothing. Jus’ not hungry.”

“Y/N, I haven’t seen you eat a proper meal in two weeks.”

“I said I'm good, J.” Your voice was bitter and sharp as you picked your pen back up, breaking free of his hold and trying to continue with your work. “If you wanna eat, go eat.”

He took the pen from your hand again, stuffing it in his pocket so you couldn’t get to it as easily.

“You really think that by now, I don’t know when you’re actin’ up?” He held your face in his hands, ensuring that you couldn’t look away from him again. “Jus’ tell me what’s goin’ on so I can fix it.”

“You can’t fix this, J.”

He sighed softly, his thumbs swiping over the apples of your cheeks. “Try me.”

You stalled for a moment. You didn’t want the judgement, You knew what he would say.

Y/N/N, don’t listen to him. He’s a piece of shit. He has no idea what he’s talking about.

If this was about anything else, maybe you would’ve believed him. But after hearing comments from your parents about your body for almost two decades…maybe their words had some truth to them, right?

But when you looked into those oceanic puppy-dog eyes, it was as if he was willing the truth out of you wordlessly. Sighing, you broke free of his grasp carefully. You strolled over to your dresser, pulling your phone off of the surface and opening your messages on your way back to him. You handed him the device, the glow of your screen illuminating his face as it showed him the texts you’d received from your father earlier last week.

You think your mother and I haven’t noticed how you’ve gotten fuller? Everything you’ve worn to our events lately has only made you look worse. A girl your age should be slimmer. We should get you on a diet, up your physical activity.”

If you don’t fix your appearance, you’re going to embarrass us in front of our colleagues. We can’t secure this deal if you’re looking plump.

I’ve had it. You shouldn’t accompany us anywhere for the next few months. Not until you get your weight under control.

Rage bubbled deep in his core, threatening to swallow him whole. It had always puzzled him beyond belief — how your parents could look at you and see the complete opposite of what he had.

Perfection.

He tried to remain stoic. You’d never been happy when he got upset over things your parents had done in the past, and right now, when you were looking so pained, how could he make things worse?

“Y/N/N,” he said, hands bracing your shoulders. “You can’t keep doing this to yourself.”

You couldn’t even find the courage to look up at him. You were too scared, too ashamed. You didn’t want his pity, you just wanted the voices to stop, and though you believed JJ could do anything, you weren’t sure if he could quiet that noise.

It was too blaring.

“You’re actin’ like there’s somethin’ to fix, but there isn’t. You’re perfect. I don’t care what your dress size is. You don’t need to be cuttin’ back. End of story.”

“J, it’s just not that easy—”

His index finger found your lips, effectively shushing you and garnering your attention. “They’re wrong about everythin’ else, right?”

You nodded slowly. “…Yeah.”

“So what makes ‘em right about this?”

He got you good. He’d always had a certain way with you, and thank God he did.

One of his hands abandoned your shoulder, finding your face instead. Blue eyes bore their soul into yours, trying to engrave how he viewed you into your brain.

“Eat whatever the fuck you want. You’re beautiful, and you always will be.”

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lightwise · 2 days

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“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.”

A character study on Dr. Emerie Karr

I’ve had a post about Emerie wandering around the back of my mind all season, but haven’t really been able to pull anything together yet that I felt would do her character justice. In addition, I believe there are other people who can speak to some of her position and experiences in a cult-like environment where she has been raised with bounded choices and lack of agency better than I can, but I will still touch on those things here a bit.

Many people have been frustrated at Emerie’s character, even going so far as to say they hate her for not acting in ways we wish she would and for working in the Empire, conducting horrific experiments, and going along with Hemlock’s plans. While I understand the frustrations, there is nothing that Emerie has done that truly exceeds anything that Crosshair or Cody or Wolffe ever did under the Empire, especially when considering that her actions and choices are all very firmly rooted in a very chaotic, traumatizing, and lacking environment that she was raised in. She may not have had a chip (we don’t know), but regardless, she has not been given the amount of free will and expansive thinking that her clone brothers and Omega experienced during the war and after. Even still, her Jango Fett genes are showing through, with a natural affinity and compassion for children tugging on her latent moral compass the more and more she is around them.

“Remain calm. Cooperate. And you might survive.” We first meet Emerie in season 2, when Crosshair is transferred to Tantiss after killing Lt. Nolan. She notably uses his name immediately, and seems to have a slightly more caring nature to her than any of the other medical assistants (like Dr. Scalder) that we have seen on Tantiss. She is focused and seems content and dedicated to her work, but wants Crosshair to survive and not be harmed more than is necessary. She seems to have traces of both Tech and Dr. Hemlock in her, with a dedication to science and the tasks assigned to her, and a mind that is obviously adept and capable of accomplishing various procedures. While she follows all of Dr. Hemlock’s orders completely, she shows traces of compassion to Crosshair along the way, and begs him not to try and escape. At this point, her own access card doesn’t even allow her to get outside, and we’ve never seen her on any of the landing platforms. She seems to have an intimate knowledge of how impossible it is to escape the facility (has she tried to herself?)

“She is a clone. And therefore Imperial property.” Hemlock is talking about Omega here, but the camera pans to include Emerie standing beside him, looking at him. This cinematography choice will occur several times, where dialogue from Hemlock or Omega is overlaid with a shot of Emerie’s face to show that comments about freedom and clones and specimens and choice all have double meanings that include Emerie, even if she has the supposed station and respect of a doctor’s position. At this point it is unclear whether she fully understands how she is just as much a prisoner inside these walls as Crosshair and the other clones are.

“A prisoner? You are no such thing. It is far safer in here than it is out there.” This is but one of many times that Emerie uses the word “safe” in regard to being on Mt. Tantiss, following the rules, and doing what is expected. She comes to retrieve Omega every morning, mostly chipper and focused on including her in her tasks for the day. She shows care for Omega but is fully absorbed in her duties and what to her is normal daily life. An empty room that locks from the outside is probably the norm for her. For Omega, it is decidedly not, and Omega’s curious but justice-oriented nature begins to tilt the axis of Emerie’s perceptions. When first meeting her, Emerie acknowledges her as her sister and wants her to trust her. It’s clear that she maybe knew of Omega at some point, even though Omega had never heard of her until now. We get a slight glimpse of why that would be, when Emerie tells Omega that she was on Kamino initially but was “sent elsewhere until Dr. Hemlock took me under his wing.” There is a LOT embedded in that sentence. Sent away by Nala Se? Why? What was her initial purpose in being created? Why was she discarded? Was Omega a “better” version of her? Where did she go, and how and why did Hemlock find her and bring her up as his medical assistant, seeing “potential” in her. It’s obvious Emerie’s sense of self-worth, while relatively strong, also hinges on following Hemlock’s orders. All of this screams abandonment and grooming even if not of a sexual nature, and Emerie certainly seems to show the submissive, trusting, and yet fearful disposition one might expect from someone whose life has been defined by those circumstances.

“You don’t know she won’t survive. She deserves a chance.” A conversation about letting a domesticated Lurca hound out into the wild to fend for herself is clearly paralleled with Emerie’s fate. Emerie tries to act as a mediator between Hemlock and Omega, hoping that the girl won’t be hurt or punished. Hemlock scoffs at Omega’s decision to let Batcher go, and her impassioned statement above. He sneers “the flawed logic of an idealistic child. Emotion and sentiment have no place within these walls. You would do well to remember that.” Emotion and sentiment have seemingly been lacking in Emerie’s upbringing, yet they continue to have an influence on her impulses and actions more and more. A testament to this is the fact that she keeps Omega’s straw Lula doll after it is found during a midnight room inspection, and eventually gives it back to her even though it breaks protocol. She will later keep this doll hidden after Omega escapes, and give it to one of the Vault “specimens”, Eva, in an attempt to comfort her. In that initial confrontation with Omega, Hemlock had added a final warning: “Actions always have consequences. Sometimes not in the ways we imagine.” What will this mean in the future for both him and Emerie? Their choices until recently have seemed in line and coherent, but they are diverging more and more.

“It’s best not to ask questions.” Emerie once again demonstrates the dichotomy of her perspectives as she affirms the authority and deference that she believes she owes Dr. Hemlock, while also being attentive to Omega’s shift in mood after being told by Nala Se that she must escape. Emerie tells Omega to get some rest, thinking she isn’t feeling well. There is no reason for her to do this other than the fact that she cares about Omega, as against protocol as those feelings are.

“You’re not thinking clearly. Escape is not possible. This is for your own good.” After finding Crosshair and Omega ready to escape through the Lurca hound tunnels, she begs both of them to see what to her is reason and sense. She doesn’t want either of them to get in trouble or be hurt, and would have covered for them if they would simply surrender and return to their cells. She affirms again that escape is not possible, from her perspective, and that what is best is quiet acquiescence. We see this continued struggle between her own budding moral compass, her sense of duty, her fear, her belief that it is safer to stay and to be quiet and to stay small. After they escape the facility, she finds out that Omega’s blood is the binder they have been looking for all along, and partly out of scientific duty, and partly knowing that this knowledge is the only thing that will save Crosshair and Omega’s escaping ship from being shot down, she informs Dr. Hemlock.

“Do you trust me? I’ve spent years working by your side. I could be more useful.” Before Omega is recaptured, we get an entire episode from Emerie’s POV (which also establishes her as a very important character for the remainder of the season). Here we begin to see more of her conflicted moral compass, and also her budding sense of self esteem. “You wish to be the new chief scientist Dr. Karr?” “I believe I’ve earned it.” This fully encapsulates the dynamic that these two “doctors” have shared over the years. Emerie knows that Hemlock only values things that are useful, and probably only sees her own value in the light of what she can contribute, due to how she was raised and the circumstances she has been trapped in. Hemlock’s tone of voice implies that he has never considered her as being the new chief scientist, and yet he acquiesces quite quickly, almost as though he’s just too busy to think about it and if it means things are brought back up to production standard then he’s fine with her taking Nala Se’s place. His utter disregard for Emerie as an actual human and someone with merit is disgusting, but to Emerie it comes across as respectful benevolence (as long as she follows the rules). It is good to see her start to stand up for herself, although she has no idea what she is getting herself into.

“You’re safe SP-32.” Emerie’s experiences watching over the children in the vault begin to chip away HARD at the beliefs she has grown up with and the perspectives she has kept herself sheltered behind. She initially tries to connect with one of the children, Eva, but Hemlock quickly stops her and tries to force his perspective that these are simply “scientific assets. Specimens.” The children defy this characterization at every turn. Eva compliments Emerie’s glasses, shares her name. Jax reiterates that his number is not his name when he tries to escape, and Emerie spends the entire sequence of him trying to escape torn, worried for him, and disgruntled at how violently Scorch and the other commandos treat him. Her conflict continues to grow as Eva asks how Jax is after the escape attempt, and she has to face her duplicity in telling Eva everything would be fine, when it is not.

“They’re children. Like I was. Was your plan to discard them too?” Finally, Emerie confronts Nala Se, and we get more of a glimpse into the circumstances of her childhood. Emerie obviously carries enormous bitterness and resentment for however Nala Se treated her and the choice to abandon her in favor of Omega, and she throws this back in Nala Se’s face asking why the rest of the children in the Vault haven’t been protected either. “The Empire will keep them in order to control them” — once again a layered statement that includes Emerie’s own position. “They don’t belong in here” — Omega’s hopeful and determined perspective has gotten through to her on some level, just as it did with Crosshair. However, despite her growing sense of guilt and remorse, Emerie still feels powerless and at the mercy of her environment. “I don’t have that kind of power.” But Nala Se challenges her that she does, and that her choices going forward will need to be hers and hers alone.

“And where did this child come from?” Emerie starts to take small steps towards more independent choices when she insists on accompanying Scorch to pick up the next force sensitive child. Whether her plan was to try and fudge the results so he could be returned to his home, or just find out more information about how these children are procured and how many are being kidnapped, she can’t change the outcome of Bayrn being brought in. But her dismay at how young he is and how much worse this situation keeps getting is evident. Just as telling is Hemlock’s misinterpretation of her hesitation of taking in another “specimen.” He thinks she’s afraid of them harming her in an escape attempt. He doesn’t see that her personal convictions have started to become louder in her mind and heart than his commands and manipulation. She continues to take steps toward autonomy by comforting Eva, using the girl’s name, and bringing her Omega’s straw toy, that she had kept against orders. The situation is wearing on her more and more. But there’s hope for her yet.

“Emerie, you don’t have to do this.” Once Omega is back on Tantiss, Emerie retreats back into her shell a bit as Hemlock orders her to test Omega’s blood again. She knows what will happen and where Omega will be taken when the sample comes through, and she looks utterly defeated and cornered, sighing, her shoulders slumped like Crosshair’s when he was still imprisoned. Yet even as far as she’s come, she can’t see a way around completing this task. “I’m sorry, but I do.” She tries to soften the blow with “for what it’s worth, I’m glad you’re safe.” But Omega is not having it. “Am I??” Emerie knows she’s not, sighing in fear and resignation again as Hemlock takes Omega away to the vault. She tries to console herself by giving the children better games to keep their minds engaged, and pointedly asserts her rank and decision to keep Omega in contact with the other children even when Dr. Scalder disagrees with her choice. Her confidence is still growing. Her sense of right and wrong is slowly becoming more and more defined. She is now starting to show a split front between her attempts to placate Omega vs. the questions and doubts that have been festering inside her. Will she finally be able to push through her fears and use her influence and position to help the children, the clones, Omega, and the Batch escape by the end? Or will she remain trapped in a life that she didn’t choose but that she has long since begun to question and pull away from?

Just like the rotating dial of test vials that she oversees every day, Emerie’s moral compass continues to inch closer and closer toward a resolution, until hopefully it will click fully into place. And when it does, Hemlock will (hopefully) regret every ounce of trust he’s ever placed in her. And Omega will hopefully be fully justified in the trust, pleas, and examples that she has been giving Emerie, her big sister, this whole time. Emerie’s sense of identity, justice, and conviction hang in the balance. She can be an agent of change for everyone’s fates, if she chooses to step into her own.

✨ Tag List ✨

@drafthorsemath @freesia-writes @sunshinesdaydream @ladyzirkonia @jedizhi @the-little-moment @the-bad-batch-baroness @heyclickadee @burningfieldof-clover @dreamless-daydreamer

#the bad batch #tbb #tbb spoilers #star wars #the bad batch spoilers #tbb emerie #dr hemlock #omega #tbb omega #tbb hemlock #emerie karr #dr emerie karr #tbb emerie karr #bad batch emerie

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nervoussagittarius · 2 days

Text

i know it’s crazy but he’s the one i want

matt sturniolo x reader

summary: part two of strike out. after months of being apart y/n realizes she wants nothing more then to be with matt, and matt realizes how much he fucked up. part one

warnings: angst to smut. oral (fem receiving), p in v, no protection, matchmakers nick and chris

they slammed the door on

my whole world

the one thing i wanted

your world felt like it was turned completely upside down the minute you locked your front door on matt.

you wanted to run after him. you wanted to forgive him for everything, but something in you was telling you to hold back, to stay strong. you weren’t even sure if you knew the matt that stood with you 10 minutes ago. after a month of no contact there’s so much that could’ve changed. you definitely had changed. one one thing that stayed the same though was that you still couldn’t go more the an hour without thinking of matthew sturniolo.

matt blew up your phone that whole night. it took everything in you not to drive over to his house. you were a mess and he didn’t need to see you like that. you were supposed to be strong. you were the one who told him to leave after all.

a few more days past before you got a couple texts and a call from chris. you hesitantly answered. you hated to admit it but you missed him and nick. you missed matt too but you weren’t ready to admit that one out loud yet. “hello?” you answered. there was a beat of silence before you heard a sigh of relief from the other line. “hey y/n it’s chris. listen, i know you haven’t wanted to talk to us, and i understand, but nick and i need your help.” he sounded so stressed that you couldn’t help but worry about the pair. he didn’t give you time to respond before he continued his thought. “i know you don’t want to be with matt anymore, but he hasn’t left his room in almost a week. nick and i completely understand why you did what you did. matt told us what happened.. but he locked himself in and we don’t know what to do.” you teared up at the thought of matt being alone. yeah he enjoyed being by himself sometimes, but never to this extent. you couldn’t help but feel guilt for the way things went down. at the end of the day you were both in the wrong, and you desperately wanted to make things right.

“please just come talk to him. come see him. we tried to wait as long as we could to call you but it’s time. we have your back but he’s still our brother, and we don’t want to see him like this. nick and i really miss you. matt misses you” you didn’t confirm or deny if you would really show up. you wanted to talk to him. as much as he hurt you he didn’t deserve to feel how you have felt for months. you knew how shitty it was. “i miss you guys too.” and with that you ended the call. you didn’t need to specify who you were referring too. chris knew that you meant all three of them, and he hoped that you would come help his brother.

no i’m not coming to my senses

i know it’s crazy but he’s

the one i want

it took you almost two hours to work up the courage to go to the triplets house. you got in and out of your car 3 different times before you convinced yourself to finally turn it on and start driving. the directions were muscle memory at this point. having spent the last two years driving the same streets at least once a day, you weren’t a stranger to the street signs and the traffic. although it was almost 1 in the morning you had no worries about if the boys were awake or not. they always were at this time.

you felt weird pulling into their driveway. a spot that was once reserved for you now felt like a curse. it felt like you’d end up with three slashed tires if you parked there so you opted for parking in the street two houses down. this way if you chickened out before you made it to the door they’d never know.

you didn’t though. you couldn’t because the minute you stepped foot onto their doorstep nick threw open the door. no words were exchanged between the two of you. he instantly pulled you into a hug. you both needed it after the month and a half you just had. “i’m so glad you’re here” all you could do is hold him tighter in response. tears filled your eyes as chris made his way down the front steps to you both. he took his turn pulling you into a hug as well. when you broke apart he ran a soothing hand up and down your arm and let you walk to the living room.

the three of you sat on the couch together and you pulled your legs up into you. single tears streamed down your face every once and a while as you waited for someone to talk. “he doesn’t know you’re here,” nick started. “we didn’t want to tell him and freak him out.” “oh so he’s not allowed to be freaked out so i have to be. got it” you regretted it as soon as you got the sentence out. “sorry. fuck i’m sorry guys. i really just- i don’t know what i’m doing here.” you ran a hand through your hair nervously.

“it’s okay y/n/n we get it. we really just think you guys should talk.” chris said patting your knee. “yeah, we don’t want to pressure you but we think it will help both of you get some closure. so you sit here. we’re going to go out for a little bit, give you some space. if you decide you want to leave then please do so, but we won’t be upset if you’re here when we get back.” they gave you soft smiles as they made their way out of the house leaving you with your thoughts.

once you got the tears to stop, you knew that if you didn’t get off the couch now you would never make it to matt’s room. you were hesitant to knock. you didn’t hear anything in the otherside of the door. you were almost hoping he was asleep so you could go home and forget this ever happened.

as you began to raise your hand the door slowly opened. matt’s head was hung low looking at his phone. your lips parted slightly in shock. he quickly looked up when he noticed someone was standing there. “i- sorr- i um- i have to go.” you barely got out. as you tried turning so you could walk in the other room. “y/n?” matt was in shock and confused. you were the last person he expected to see. he just wanted to run over and hug you, but he kept his restraint. you rushed over to the couch looking for your keys. “i’m sorry i shouldn’t have come. chris and nick called me and i was worried about you but i really shouldn’t be here.” when you got nervous you just talked fast. your mouth couldn’t keep up with all the thoughts running through your head.

matt hadn’t moved from his doorway. he was frozen watching you pace the living room. when he finally came to his senses he spoke up to stop you. “wait please stop. please. i want to talk to you.” matt rushed over to you and grabbed your hand trying to get you to look at him. he fully expected you to pull away, but his confidence slightly boosted when you didn’t.

“please.” he repeated. “please come sit with me.” his words were soft and nervous. you nodded looking up at him. he walked you over to his room hand in hand. matt gestured for you to sit in his bed as he sat across from you. you decided to talk first. you just wanted to know he was okay. “um. your brothers asked me to come talk to you. they said you hadn’t left your room, and i know i shouldn’t be, because of the way we ended things, but i was really worried about you, matt. i don’t want you to be upset. i know i was really mean and i’m so sorry-” “no. please do not apologize.” he reached over to hold your hands. “i deserved everything you said to me. you were right. please look at me, sweetheart. i have been a mess because i feel so shitty about the way i treated you. and i couldn’t look at chris and nick because they lost you too. i feel so fucking bad.”

“i know you do, baby. i want to forgive you i really do, but i can’t go back to the way things were.” both of you had tears running down your faces. you just wanted to hold each other and forget everything. “i promise i can be better. i promise that i can do better. you deserve better then i’ve ever treated you and i will work my ass off everyday to prove that to you.” you moved closer to matt as you held his face and used the pads of your thumbs to wipe his tears. you leaned your forehead against his as you sat there debating what to say. “i know you will, matt. i believe you.” “do you really?” he couldn’t believe what he was hearing. he wanted nothing more then to kiss you but he couldn’t push your boundaries. “i do, baby. i’m so in love with you. i don’t know how i’ve spent this long without you.” you said slightly leaning in to matt.

both of you flicked your eyes between your lips and back to each others eyes. “i love you too.” matt said. “can i please kiss you?” he asked nervously. you guys had kissed millions of times before but something was different this time. you guys felt closer. “please, matt. you can do anything to me.” and with that your lips instantly connected. you two melted into eachother as the kiss deepened. he quickly swiped his tongue against your bottom lip asking for entrance which you accepted. “let me show you how sorry i am?” “please.”

he was chaos, he was revelry

bedroom eyes look like a remedy

matt gently pushed your back down onto his mattress. he took his lips off of yours as he pecked his way down your neck. your hands traveled down his chest as you pulled on the edge of his shirt. he took notice to this and hastily removed the piec rod fabric. he sent you pleading eyes as you nodded at him to take yours off as well. he took your bra off with it and trailed his hand down your arm to intertwine your fingers. your unoccupied hand went to matt’s hair as he placced soft kissed to your boobs. he’s movements become desperate as he attached his lips to my nipple as he gently sucked.

soft pants came out of your mouth as you pushed matt’s head lower towards where you were craving him most. he tilted his head up at you with a smug grin. “yeah baby, is that what you want?” he smirked at you as he shimmied your legs out of your pants and threw them to the corner of his room. he traveled down lower as he started to spread your legs letting him lay between them. he breath met your clit and he turned his head to bite the inside of your thigh.

“tell me what you need, sweetheart” “you, matt. i need you to touch me.” you rushed out. you needed to be close to him. you just wanted to feel him. matt pulled your underwear to the side and ran a finger through your slit. his cold hands tips sent goose bumps through your body. you swallowed thickly as he sent one quick lick to your core. he looked at you for a reaction only to get a nod of encouragement from you.

matt hummed while he wrapped one hand around your thigh spreading you farther apart for him. he slowly leaned into you dipping is tongue deeper into your wet folds. matt could feel the blood rushing to his cock due to your small pants and moans. the tight grip on his hair only encouraged him to keep going. you let out a small scream as he slowly began to enter his fingers into you. “fuck matt just like that.” you said as his middle and ring fingers curled up hitting that spongy spot. matt hummed into your cunt as he violently licked your clit.

neither of you had touched yourselves or anyone else in over a month. the pent up frustration made things go a lot faster then either of you expected. matt began rutting his hips softly into his mattress trying to relieve the tension he was feeling. you clenched around his fingers signally your close orgasm. matt’s head came up as his fingers still thrusted into you. “that feel good, baby. you gonna cum for me. come on, sweetheart. cum for me.” matt didn’t let up as your moans got louder if anything it made him to go in with more force. your orgasm came fast and hard. matt continued sucking as you came down from your high. you panted as matt slowly pulled his fingers out of you.

you started to sit up you you could return the favor only to be pushed back down as matt met you in a kiss. “no baby. tonight’s about you. i just want to make you feel good. i want to show you how sorry i am.” you looked at him with puppy dog eyes. “you do make me feel good matt. just let me return the favor.” you were quickly cut off by the sound of matt’s pants being pulled down. he shock his head at you to deny your request and your hand found the waistband of his boxers as you began to pull his cock out.

he was hard and somehow looked bigger then you remembered. matt’s head fell forward when you started stroking him. his arm that he was using to hold himself up almost giving out at the sensation. you ran his cock through your folds wetting him from you arousal and his precum. he took control as he slid into you, giving you a second to adjust, and then bottoming out at the sign of your approval.

you both let out signs as matt started thrusting into you. he ran his hand up and down your side and placed long kisses on your neck. certain to leave at least one hickey. matt was fully immersed in you. “matt please don’t stop. faster..fuck.” matt had every intention on taking his time with you tonight, to really show you how he feels, but he couldn’t turn down the opportunity. “fuck baby.” matt said speeding up. “faster? you want me to fuck you faster hm? tell me how good i’m making you feel baby.” matt kept up his pace as your hands found his back. your nails scratched down his skin leaving red marks in their trail. you threw your head back in pleasure when matt began rubbing your clit in figure eight motions. your noises only got louder but you were so fucked out that matt laughed when you couldn’t form a sentence. “you got it baby. you’re doing to good for me.” matt’s hips slammed into you surely leaving bruises. “tell me how good i’m making you feel. use your words.”

with one hand on your clit and the other brushing hair off of your forehead, matt soon approached his first orgasm of the night. you gasped and tried to catch your breath to say coherent words. “shit- i- god you’re doing so good, mmh. you feel so good. don’t stop. gonna cum.” you quickly reached your second orgasm. “yeah, you gonna cum,” matt taunted as his motions became sloppy. “good girl, cum with me, y/n.”

both of your orgasms built rapidly and didn’t disappoint. your head flew back in pleasure as matt lowly groaned and let out a small whimper. he rode out both of your orgasms and you reached out to out your head in this chest as you became overstimulated. matt slowly pulled out and fell down beside you as he leaned for his shirt to clean you up. “i love you.” you said as you rolled over to place your head in his chest. “i love you most.” he replied giving a kiss to the top of your head.

thinking it can change the

beat of my heart when he touches me

and counteract the chemistry

and undo the destiny

matt and you layed in a comfortable silence as you held each other. no one could ruin this moment for you two. you saw the comments over the months that you had ruined matt or that you’re a whore and you didn’t deserve him. no one knew the real truth. matt and you were made for each other. you didn’t believe in soulmates until matt came around.

you were still in matt’s bed when nick and chris got home that night. sound asleep you two basked in the presence of eachother. matt’s two brothers saw his bedroom door slightly ajar, they made their way over to see what was going on.

with no comment they smiled at each other noticing your states. they were happy to have their favorite couple back.

you ain’t gotta pray for me

me and my wild boy

and all this wild joy

#nick sturniolo #matt sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo #chris sturniolo x reader #chris sturniolo smut #matt sturniolo fluff #matt sturniolo smut #sturniolo fanfic #matt sturniolo imagine #matt sturniolo snaps #matt x reader #matt sturniolo

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makeyoumine69 · 3 days

Text

Memory Reboot x2

PAIRING: Patrick Bateman x gn!Reader

SUMMARY: After wrestling with the lingering thoughts of Bateman, you finally found yourself open to Paul Allen's offer — a life-changing opportunity. But despite your resolve, you couldn't shake the need for closure. Determined, you sought one last encounter with Patrick, intent on resolving the unsaid and the undone before the cityscape of New York faded into your past.

CONTAINS: Smut, angst, mutual pining, obsessive behavior, desperate & sensual foreplay, anal fingering, pegging, sex toys, face riding, penetrative sex, rimming (Patrick receiving), oral sex (69, blowjobs), edging, biting, spanking, cum shot, masturbating, praise kink, body worship, drug usage, pet names, dirty talk, needy Patrick, misogyny, swearing, gaslighting, manhandling, mind manipulation.

WORDS: 8.7k

SONG REC: VØJ, Narvent — Euphoria

A/N: Hello everyone, I'm sorry it took me quite long to write this, I hope you like it! If you find any mistakes regarding gn!reader, please let me know!

LINKS: [MASTERLIST]; [CHAPTER 1].

The clock’s ticking was the only sound in the opulent meeting room of Pierce & Pierce office. Your heart seemed to beat to the rhyme of ticking, while you were nervously spinning the thin cigarette in your hands but never really trying to actually smoke; the glass ashtray in front of you would probably be left empty till the end of the day. It was even funny how drastically things changed after that…moment of privacy you shared with Bateman. Starting from that, you couldn’t really get him out of your head, even though it has already been several weeks of your pretending game of “nothing had happened” between you and Patrick. It was a matter of time, when your colleagues would start to notice your strange behavior whenever you and Bateman were in one room.

Squeezing the cigarette between your shaky fingers, you turned around in the leather chair to look at the New York skyline through the wide window. ‘That it is not an exit,’ echoed in your ears and you tried to shake the nervousness off from your tense shoulders, but the more you were being alone, the more surrounding space was weighing on you as if you were on the very bottom of the Pacific ocean.

The moment the door swung open and Timothy Bryce entered the meeting room, you were more in control of yourself. “Hey, Tim. Haven’t seen you in ages.”

“Sorry, (y/n). Had a business call with some delusional prick.” Bryce snarled and took a seat across from you.

“Delusional prick?”

"Yeah, you know...delusional," he chuckled and glanced at the cigarette in your hand, which was still more like an accessory. "The guy thought I gave a fuck about his life and his wife, who used to be a whore, by the way."

With a soft snicker, you made yourself more comfortable in your chair, throwing one leg over another. “Wanna smoke?”

“Yep,” he leaned over the table to take the cigarette, your fingers touched for a moment but none of you paid attention. “So, what happened? Why did you want to see me?”

Confused, you took a moment to think about your answer. You worried a lot about picking the right words, but now you were even more anxious. ‘I just need to tell him the truth and that’s all,’ you reassured yourself before turning to face Tim. “Well, the thing is - I’m quitting P & P.”

Tim’s face remained unchanged for a second, but then the man furrowed his brows, tilting his head and rubbing his ear as if he didn’t hear. “You're what? Quitting?”

"Right," you gave him a half-smile and continued. "Recently, I received a very... very good offer from one company in Chicago."

“Jesus Christ. Chicago? Really?”

“What’s wrong with it?”

Bryce lit the cigarette and leaned back in his chair. “Who the fuck even gave you this idea? And why so sudden? You have such a good job here, with a good salary and…” He paused and blew a few rings of smoke. “Do those bastards pay well?”

Laughing heartily, you crossed your arms over your chest and watched the smoke dividing the room in two with a white veil. “So many questions. Are you interested in leaving Pierce & Pierce too?” That was not a serious question, since you knew that Bryce was more than satisfied with his job. “If I say who recommended that place to me, will you keep it a secret?” Tim nodded even before you could say something else. “I was at one P&P party, that one you decided to skip a week ago. So, there I met Paul Allen and we talked a bit and he mentioned that he just came back from his business trip from Chicago…we had a long conversation, but as a result he proposed to me to think about the option to change my current job.”

All the time while you were speaking, Tim was glancing at you with wide open eyes, his prominent brows curling up and down whenever you mentioned Paul Allen’s name. It was always funny for you to watch Bateman & Co getting so frustrated and annoyed whenever Allen was around or whenever someone discussed his success with having the Fisher account. To say the least, his ability to get a reservation at Dorsia. ‘I’m not gonna tell any of them that Allen offered me dinner in Dorsia after that party.’

“So you were unsatisfied with your job all this time and didn’t say anything? That sucks, (y/n). Didn’t expect that to come, not gonna lie,” Bryce made a low sound which was very similar to growling, but at the same time it also sounded like a scoff. “But, if that really is what you want, then who am I to judge you? We have only one life to fulfill all our needs, right?”

Timothy’s statement was like a balm to your soul, that was exactly what you hoped he would tell you and when he did, you felt some kind of relief washing over you like a breeze of fresh air.

“Thank you, Tim,” you finally grinned and put your elbows on the table. “Glad you didn’t start to read me notations.”

“Are you gonna tell him?”

“Him?” You squinted and tilted your head; your intuition was screaming that something was so damn wrong.

“Bateman,” with a sly smile, Bryce put the cigarette out in a glass ashtray; his glance was eloquent but you never really managed to read it. “I bet he will be upset. Very upset.”

“Bryce ” you rolled your eyes. ‘Is he lying or…?’ That question remained unspoken. “Leave these cheesy jabs to yourself, okay?”

Tim only laughed at your weak attempt to threaten him and stood up from the table. “You know, I saw him with Jean in Arcadia last night…” Now this information could come in handy… “I think they had some kind of date or something, huh,” he chuckled again and fixed his tie, giving the picture on the opposite wall a scrutinizing glance. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, but something is definitely happening. In my opinion, you should tell him about your…unexpecting leaving, you know.”

Before you could respond, Timothy Bryce looked at you one last time and left the meeting room. Now, you were left alone but not really alone as the weight of the newfound information lay on your shoulders like two massive dumbbells. ‘If everything is too obvious for Bryce, what other things might the others think about me and Bateman?’ That was a rhetorical question mostly, but still you couldn’t even get up from the chair, sensing the strange, chilling fear inside your chest—what if you were mistaken with accepting the offer of a new job?

Gritting your teeth, you snarled and almost kicked the table from beneath, your palms were clenching and unclenching, thankfully no one could see you like this. Swiftly but nervously, you finally stood up and headed out from the meeting room, striving to avoid any of your soon-to-be-ex colleagues on your way to Bateman’s office.

How many times have you rehearsed the words you were going to say while you were walking up there? Countless. But still, when you entered Patrick's office and saw his lovely secretary, everything inside you froze - words, emotions, even your breath.

“Hi, Jean,” you mumbled, with a half-smile on your slightly tensed face. “Looking good.”

“Uh, thank you,” the blonde woman replied and fixed the stray lock of hair behind her ear. “Is there anything I can do for you?”

As soon as you heard the echo of Patrick's voice through the office door, a lump formed in your throat and you had to cough several times because of the unpleasant dryness.

“Well,” you paused and glanced at the closed door with a nameplate ‘Patrick Bateman’ on it. “You would help me a lot if you let me have a private conversation with your boss.”

“Patrick is,” her voice suddenly wavered, implying that something was wrong. “He’s busy right now.”

“Oh,” you stepped back involuntarily. “Okay, I can come later.”

“No,” Jean replied curtly. “I’m sorry, but today is not an option at all.”

‘Is that some kind of joke?’ You hummed to yourself, already regretting coming here in the first place. “All right then. Have a nice day, Jean.” Turning around you already stepped out from the office when you head her voice:

“(Y/n), wait. Oh, I hope I pronounced your name correctly.” She blushed once you came back inside. “I think I can tell him about your visit, when he will be less busy.”

That offer was not something you would expect. “Actually, that would be nice,” you clicked on your tongue, considering your next steps. “Tell him that I have a reservation at Dorsia at eight o’clock–”

“Today?” Her question cut off your bluffing. “Oh, sorry! I didn’t mean to interrupt you.”

You just grinned politely in return. “Yep, today. Tell him…that I need to talk with him about business and stuff. And, that it would be probably the last chance for him to catch up with me.” Jean’s eyes widened for a moment, but you reassured her instantly. “No drama, just changing my job.”

“Uh, that was probably a tough decision?”

“Not really,” you winked at her and crossed your arms over the chest. “But don’t tell him about that, okay?”

“Yeah, sure.” She tried to hide her confusion behind a warm smile but failed. “I’ll tell him that you will be waiting for him at Dorsia tonight and that this conversation is very important.”

“Uh-huh,” you hummed and for a moment just stood there, looking at the closed office door. “Thank you, darling. For everything.”

You made a special accent on the word ‘darling’, purposely embarrassing her and leaving no room for any questions and other stuff that would make a current situation even more fucked up.

After you left Bateman’s office you had to find Allen as only half of what you told Jean was actually bluffing—you knew that Paul had a reservation at Dorsia tonight, considering he was inviting you for dinner. Allen’s strange interest in you wasn’t your top priority at that moment but using it for your sake was something you couldn’t deny at such a situation. So when you finally found Paul in one of the meeting rooms, you persuaded him to give you that reservation, explaining that you wanted to show one of your colleagues Dorsia before you would leave New York and move to Chicago. And even though everyone would find out that that colleague was Patrick Bateman, you wouldn't’ care since you would be far away from here.

A few hours later, the melodious voice of Whitney Houston reverberated off the walls of the opulent living room in Bateman's apartment, the lyrics of "I Wanna Dance with Somebody," which Patrick knew perfectly, striking a chord in his chest every time the song came on.

But today everything was different.

Everything, except some random blonde bimbo who was on her knees between Bateman’s spread legs, sucking his thick cock but not actually giving him any pleasure. Frustrated, the man tugged on her hair without any compassion, bringing her closer, so her nose was almost brushing against his hairy pubis. But almost immediately, the woman began to whimper and claw at the perfect skin of his hips, and he didn't like it.

“What? Already tired?” Bateman sneered and fixated the blonde’s head in one place for a moment by her neck. “Or is that your first time? Then, I’m so fucking honored!"

As soon as the man let the blonde go, she pushed him away and sat back on her ass, breathing heavily. “Are you crazy?” the bimbo inquired and pressed a hand to her half-exposed breasts, her whole appearance looked messy. “I was about…t-to choke on your fucking dick!”

Sighing, Bateman rolled his eyes and just stretched out on the couch, lazily stroking his half-hard shaft. "So, this is your first time?" The woman hesitated to answer, which only made Patrick mock her even more. "Did you tell me that you have a boyfriend? And he works at P&P, right?"

Wiping her mouth with undisguised contempt, the blonde started to get up, but Patrick stepped on the hem of her dress and she almost fell. "Marcus! Stop it!"

"Uh, look at you," the man chuckled, watching her feeble attempts to get up. "Such a pathetic little bitch, pathetic and greedy," the man added, giggling. "Ready to give head to every vice president at Pierce & Pierce! Your boyfriend should be so proud of you."

The woman was on the verge of tears when Bateman finally allowed her to get up and collect her things. She had been in such a hurry that she had left her panties on the glass coffee table. All this gave Patrick much more pleasure than the blonde's inexperienced blowjob.

"Ask your boyfriend to teach you how to suck dicks," he blurted out as the woman rushed into the hallway, rifling through her purse looking for something. "Since he's probably a pro at that sort of thing."

But the girl was already gone. So the man could only laugh to himself, so proud of his cheeky jabs, if only he didn't feel like a schoolboy dreading his upcoming meeting with his teacher. With a heavy sigh, Bateman closed his eyes for a second, his cock was already soft, but his sac were still tense and full of his cum; he felt too unsatisfied with himself, which only made things worse.

What was it even for?

The man could just take some coke, lie down on his bed, close his eyes and think of you—that was enough for him to cum so hard that he had to go to the laundry almost every day because he ran out of sheets. But today was different, considering that Patrick was going to meet you, and not just anywhere, but in fucking Dorsia. It seemed that everyone in this town could get a res there, but not him.

Biting his lower lip, the man looked down at the throbbing cock in his hand - the mere thought of you was making him horny as hell. "Shit…" If only he could reboot his memory and get rid of that scene in the Tunnel. If only. Meanwhile, the Whitney Houston tape continued to play the song "Where Do Broken Hearts Go". Bateman doubted he would be able to masturbate, he was too nervous and stressed out, even imagining you while that bitch was giving him head didn't work. Although it usually did. "Dorsia, huh," the man giggled nervously and checked his Rolex - he still had plenty of time. As if spellbound, Patrick slid to the floor and kicked off his leather shoes, his red tie already loosened and his pants hiked down. Leaning against the couch, Bateman threw his head back and began to jack off, recalling the forbidden, sinful sensations of your hand sliding along his hot flesh. "Mmm-fuck," he moaned and shivered, his free hand already gripping the edge of the white couch, several beads of sweat running down his tense temples. What if today he finally found the courage to confess? Confess that all these days had been a fucking torture for him, that he was ready to crawl on the walls from how much he longed for you, not even physically, but mentally. Maybe, just maybe, your reassurance that everything was not over for him, that maybe he still had a chance to have some normalcy in this cruel world—could change everything?

"Fuck, f-fuck!" Patrick cursed, sensing that his impending orgasm was slipping away from him just by reflecting on the things that were happening between the two of you. Jerking off and thinking about your sexy voice, your hot body and your cheeky smile was one thing, it always turned him on better than anything else, but thinking about the complexity of your relationship… that was not a turn-on for him. Not at all. Cursing to himself, Patrick slicked back his auburn hair and quickly got up to stagger to the bathroom, where he nervously opened the cabinet behind the mirror and found a small white jar of pills. Xanax was his only stress reliever so far. Taking a deep, almost desperate breath, Bateman looked at his reflection, his bloodshot eyes full of tears that threatened to cascade down like a waterfall. "This is not an exit." Patrick told his reflection, but opened the jar anyway and took a handful of pills. Frustrated, unsatisfied, he didn't know how he was going to survive dinner with you, and Dorsia was the last thing on his mind. "Because I'm scared. I'm so fucking scared."

Luckily, the marble walls of his bathroom were the only witnesses to his downfall.

Dawn came to New York faster than you could imagine. All the way to Dorsia you were nervous, but still confident in the plan you had made earlier that day. Even though you had failed in your previous attempt to dot the T's at the Tunnel, today would be different, you were sure of it. ‘I don't even know why, though,’ you chuckled to yourself, and the taxi driver gave you a concerned glance, but you just shrugged it off, signaling him to concentrate on the road.

In the restaurant everything looked the same as when you were here with Paul Allen, but this time you were not the one who was invited, but the one who invited another person—named Patrick Bateman—and speaking of whom, was late and that made you quite anxious. ‘What if he just doesn’t come?’ This thought made you fidget in the chair, your hands fumbling with the napkin on your knees and after telling the waiter for the second time that you were expecting someone else to come, your fingers became cold as if they were frozen.

“Maybe I can bring you some drinks?” The waiter didn’t give up, spurring you to order at least something to drink.

Quickly running a hand across your strained face, you exhaled loudly and nodded. “Yeah, drinks,” you stummered when you looked past the waiter, noticing the familiar elegant silhouette coming close to your table. “Can you…bring…some water?”

Confused, the waiter glanced down at the full glass of water next to you. “Uh, more water?”

“(Y/n),” Bateman’s voice echoed across the space. “I hope I didn't make you wait for so long,” he chuckled and took a seat at the table. “Had some important business affairs.” The moment he noticed the confused waiter, Patrick gave him his most sassy smile and checked his Rolex for no reason, probably just to show them out. “Can you please bring me a glass of J&B and some fresh salad to your taste.”

‘A salad, really?’ You almost snickered, but instead your face turned into a neutral expression. "Business, huh?"

Bateman rested more comfortably in his chair after the waiter finally left. "You know, some affairs with blonde hair and long legs, big tits and an amazing ass."

That came out of nowhere.

Still calm, you watched the man across from you smile, surely proud of himself and so damn bossy it was almost absurd. "You mean someone in particular, don't you?"

“Oh, yeah,” Patrick put his both elbows on the table, clasping his hands, revealing his gold Rolex once again. “Her name is Stephany, if I’m not mistaken, she’s a girlfriend of one of our accountants,” the man paused before snickering. “That one who makes monthly reports, you know him. So, I’m a bit late because I couldn't leave such a lovely girl without a treat she deserved.”

Right now, you didn't care if it was true or not—his well-framed—confidence was something you found very interesting and even amusing, as it was proof that he was preparing for this dinner just like you were.

"And that's when I thought vice presidents actually worked at Pierce & Pierce." With a slight grin, you joked and finally took a sip of water, feeling your throat suddenly go dry, just like when you were talking to Jean earlier.

Bateman's sudden laugh rang out like shattered glass. "'C'mon, (y/n), don't pretend you don't know that-"

"I know that your father owns almost half of the company," you interrupted him abruptly, and he wasn't happy about it. "And that gives you certain privileges."

"Don't be envious. It doesn't suit you."

"Envious?" You set the glass of water aside. "I think it was me who invited you here so that you could finally visit Dorsia… at least once."

The air between the two of you was thick with venom and something even more poisonous. Nevertheless, you'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't think Bateman was acting like the jerk he undoubtedly was. But, to be honest, you expected him to act a little less smug.

"I still think this place is overrated," Patrick hissed through clenched teeth right as the waiter brought him his whiskey and salad with sliced vegetables and some cheese, which he didn't even touch, taking a big gulp of his drink. "So, uh, Jean told me you wanted to talk to me about something important. What is it?"

The waiter didn't even try to offer to check the menu again and retreated, but he would definitely come back later with the same request, since you hadn't ordered anything yet.

"Well, it doesn't seem to matter anymore," you suddenly declared, crumpling the paper napkin before dropping it on the finest tablecloth. "The thing is—I'm quitting P&P and moving to Chicago. That's it. Nothing special, really."

The moment of silence washed over them both like a tidal wave. Visibly shocked, Bateman just sat there, then nervously straightened his tie and looked around as if to call for help. 'Not so ballsy anymore, Patty?' There was something about the way he was humiliated, something that stirred a burning flame in your gut that came dangerously close to burning you alive from the inside. And again, you would be lying to yourself if you pretended you could control it.

"Chicago?" Patrick repeated as if he hadn't heard correctly.

"Why do both you and Bryce react as if Chicago were a desert island?"

"Heh," Bateman rubbed the bridge of his nose and leaned back in his chair. "So Bryce knows everything. Why am I not surprised?"

"I'd tell you more," that was the moment you'd been waiting for so long—the moment of his vulnerability, and you couldn't stop yourself like a shark who sensed blood in the water. "Paul Allen was the one who actually recommended this job to me."

Patrick's jaw clenched at the mention of Paul Allen. "Really?"

"Yes," you continued to corner him. "One day we were having dinner, here, in Dorsia," you grinned, catching every little change in Bateman's no longer confident face. "He said one of his buddies was starting a new company, and they were looking for specialists… like me."

"Well," he began, sliding his hand across the table's surface as if to calm down. "Good for you, (y/n). Congratulations!" That was the most fake 'congratulations' you ever heard, even though you were expecting a slightly different reaction. "But I don't understand. Why didn't you talk to me before? Before you made your decision."

This question almost made you choke. 'Did he really say that?' And just as you were about to answer, the waiter came across the table again, choosing the perfect moment. Before he could offer to check the menu, you raised your hand in an irritating gesture. "Bring me a vodka and orange juice," Patrick's eyebrows arched almost immediately. "Double vodka, please."

"Yes, s-sure." The waiter stuttered before taking the crumpled napkin and walking away, very stressed.

Without giving yourself time to think, you leaned against the table and muttered. "Why should I? We are not friends."

"Of course not," Bateman scowled, crossing his arms over his broad chest, the black pinstriped suit outlining his physique perfectly. "Not after you gave me a decent handjob in the Tunnel bathrooms."

Patrick caught you off guard by injecting this argument so blatantly into the conversation. "Decent? It was fucking amazing." You growled and quickly turned around to see if anyone was paying attention to your table, and when you were sure there was nothing to worry about, you faced Patrick again. "Too amazing, considering you seem to be thinking about it all the time."

"W-what? I… I didn't…"

Sneering, you tapped your fingers on the table in nervous anticipation of your drinks, even though you hadn't planned on drinking any alcohol, wanting to keep yourself as sober as possible for the dinner and everything that might or might not happen afterwards.

"Relax, Bateman," you rested your chin on your clasped hands, finally allowing yourself to examine his handsome appearance, including the way his cheeks were tinged with a red hue. "You've said too much already."

And from that moment on, you began to feel relaxed, even pleased with all the things Patrick revealed to you, accidentally or not, you would use every little detail to your own advantage when the time came.

A little later, when the waiter finally brought your cocktail, you finished it too quickly, so you asked for it to be repeated under the attentive hazel eyes of the man sitting on the other side of the table. The more drunk you got, the more topics you discussed, but when you mentioned Paul Allen again, you noticed that Patrick's good mood was fading.

"Wait a minute!" You held out a hand to stop him from jumping from one topic to another. "Can you tell me why the mere mention of Paul Allen triggers you so much? Is there something between you two?"

Bateman couldn't hold back a loud, hearty laugh. "That joke's too tasteless even for Bryce," he finished his whiskey, the salad still untouched on the table in front of him. "Allen…he's…not the person he tries to pretend to be."

"Oh?"

"I think he's part of that Yale thing."

You narrowed your eyes and leaned in closer. "Yale thing? What do you mean?"

Patrick quickly licked his lips, not expecting you to delve further into the subject. "Well, I think he's probably a closeted homosexual who likes to do a lot of coke and have orgies with male hookers."

At first you just giggled out loud, not caring that some people were looking at you, but then your face suddenly became serious. "How do you know about that? Did he tell you or…" you smiled playfully. "Did he do something… that made you think so," you bit your lower lip and drank the last drop of your cocktail with unabashed thirst. "That sounds strange…very strange."

"You're drunk, (y/n)," Bateman murmured, tilting his hand as if thinking about something. "Too drunk, which gives me the impression that you're as much of an amateur at drinking as you are at doing coke."

"Uh, s-shut up."

"See? Can't even speak words."

"Maybe...maybe I am drunk, now what? Are you gonna be a fucking gentleman like you always try to be and offer me a ride? Or maybe," you fixed your hair nonchalantly, your vision slightly blurred. "Would you be brave enough to show me your apartment?"

As soon as those words came out of your mouth, you knew there was no turning back, and your inner voice, which usually kept you from doing shit you would regret, seemed to fall asleep from the high level of alcohol in your system.

The man across from you straightened up at your bold suggestion, reading the subtext with ease. "Is that what you want? For me to take you to my place?"

His question hung in the air for a moment before you managed to come up with an answer, but you didn't know how to get out of this situation and turn it into a joke, as you usually did. Maybe you just didn't want to get out of it? Just like you didn't want to let him go when he helped you get up from the table after he'd paid for dinner and the two of you were in a cab. Not to mention when you almost fell down and the man caught you in his arms, but there was still a barrier between the two of you—an invisible wall—the only line that kept you apart. The line that was too dangerous to cross, but too tempting not to think about what lay behind it.

By the time the cab pulled up at the American Gardens Building, you were half asleep on Bateman's shoulder, his Lancome cologne not helping at all, making your mind even more cloudy. But you did your best to get out of the car without his help, letting the cool fresh air bring you some relief and clarity.

In the elevator, Patrick began to mumble about his musical preferences, but you didn't really pay attention because your brain was overworked trying to come up with a plan B in case things went too far. 'As if they hadn't gone too far already,' your inner voice suddenly tried to break through the thick layers of alcohol, affection and uncontrollable desire.

Bateman's apartment looked exactly as you had imagined—opulent, stylish, and very minimalist. Everything seemed to be in its place, including you, standing next to the tall window in his living room.

"Not a bad view," you admitted, taking off the jacket of your suit. "Not Central Park, but not bad at all."

"Central Park?" Patrick asked, hiding in the kitchen, which was perfectly connected to the living room, but you couldn't see him behind the wall as he examined the large number of different kitchen knives.

"Yeah, you know, Paul Allen's apartment faces Central Park, looks really fancy," you didn't mean to hurt Bateman's feelings, but the moment you turned around and saw him, it was obvious that your words had reached him. "But, I really prefer your place...it's more modern for my taste."

Puzzled, Patrick didn't hurry to join you in the living room, his thin fingers never ceasing to slide up and down the sharp blade in his hand, but at the very last moment, the man put the knife back in its place. With deliberate steps, he walked out of the kitchen and approached his stereo system.

"Really?" He asked in disbelief, as if his life depended on your answer.

Such a reaction from him was oddly appealing, the vulnerability, the desperation in his brown eyes. This was a level of satisfaction that no drug could ever match. Meanwhile, Bateman turned on the music, the charming voice of Phil Collins filling the room as "Invisible Touch" began to play.

The man was examining the tape in his hands when you slowly approached and gently cupped his face, inducing him to look at you. "Yes, I do," you confirmed your previous words, and when Patrick didn't flinch from your touch, you decided to go on, tracing your finger along his sensual lips, fighting the urge to kiss them here and now. "Speaking of preferences," you removed your hand only to place it on the lapel of his suit. "Would you be a good boy and give me a full tour of your apartment, including the bedroom?"

In any other situation, you would probably die from shame at saying something like that, but not now. Not with him, because no sooner had your question escaped your lips than you noticed that his hands were shaking, and the CD was about to fall out of them, so you had to gently grab it and pull it out of his hands. Bateman reminded you of a man struggling with addiction, every twitch of his plump lips, every furrow of his perfect eyebrows spoke volumes about the undeniable affection between the two of you, an affection you were both too exhausted to fight and hide.

Without further ado, you placed the CD on top of the stereo and pressed Patrick against the nearest wall, holding the lapels of his Valentino suit and sealing his hot mouth with yours, opening it wider with your tongue, so eager to taste him again after such a long wait.

"Mmhm," he purred into the kiss, his hands desperately wrapped around your waist, then going lower to cradle your hips, groping and squeezing a little too hard so that you had to bite his lip to make him stop, but the man just growled and pushed you closer, your groins rubbing against each other in the most lewd way possible. "Bedroom...go to the bedroom...and wait for me there."

Bateman's words right after the kiss sounded like nonsense, which you found oddly arousing. With a foxy smile, you licked his cheek, then his neck, almost biting the artery and sucking on the reading mark. "No, no, no, Bateman," you shook your head, grabbing his neck slightly to kiss him again, but he did it first. Even now Patrick was trying to take the lead, your tongues fighting for control like two snakes entwining around each other. "I'm in no mood for games or waiting."

The moment you said it, Bateman lifted you with practiced ease as if you weighed nothing, and you didn't even have a chance to protest as he began to move toward the closed room behind his white couch. In his arms, you finally felt complete, even if you let him take the lead for a while. Noticing the pair of panties on the glass coffee table, you wrapped your legs around him and buried your fingers in his silky hair, ruffling them and letting them fall on his forehead, making him look even hotter.

Jesus, you were on the verge of an explosion just from the foreplay alone.

Bateman's bedroom greeted you with stark white walls, the brightness of which was almost painful to look at as he turned on the light holding you with one arm, and the king-size bed on which he carefully placed you, but you didn't let him pull away, tugging at his tie and forcing him to lay on top of you.

"Fuck, look at you," Patrick grazed your earlobe before massaging your chest through your shirt and hovering over you. "So insatiable, aren't you? Running in circles like a trapped kitten."

Growling, you pulled him closer again to suck on his lower lip, letting your body rub against his so you could feel how hard he was, so painfully hard, considering the sound he made when you snaked your hand between his legs to cradle his bulge. "Are you gonna cum in your pants if I don't stop?"

With a determined persistence, you continued to massage his hard cock through the layers of his expensive clothes as you removed his jacket and then his suspenders, one by one. Bateman didn't interfere as he was also busy getting rid of your clothes without actually tearing them apart.

"Let me," you insisted as soon as you noticed him struggling to unbutton your shirt. "This is my favorite shirt, you know," you gasped, your own fingers trembling, making it difficult even for you to finally remove your shirt. "I don't want it to get torn."

When you finally got rid of the top part of your clothes, the sight of your exposed skin made Patrick grunt in hunger, and the next second the man was already sucking on your nipple, his muscular frame shaking on top of you from your teasing ministrations on his twitching dick and hard balls. Damn, you wanted to suck him dry as much as you wanted to ruin him until he forgot his own name.

"Don't like it anyway," Bateman muttered suddenly, holding your hands above your head. "You need to go to some... fashion shows... maybe you will have more free time in Chicago, considering Paul Allen offered you this job. I'm sure it would be some boring shit."

‘Good Lord, he mentioned him again…’ You rolled your eyes and turned away from his face, eliciting a low rumble from Patrick's massive chest. "What the fuck is wrong with Paul... are you... jealous of him or something?"

"Me?" he asked, confused and you took the opportunity to release your hands and roll over so that you were now on top of him. "I'm not the one bragging about having dinner with him in fucking Dorsia!"

Bateman sounded like a little boy who was upset that no one wanted to play with him, which made you giggle, but then you straddled him and opened his white shirt and removed his tie.

"The more you talk," you murmured as you ran your hands along the smooth skin of his torso, paying special attention to his toned pecs and abs. "The more you make me think you two had a history," you leaned down to teasingly lick his lips, your sneaky hands already working on the zipper of his pants. "But still, I don't care." In one swift motion, you pulled down his pants along with his boxers, watching his thick cock pop out, yearning for your attention. "Mhmm, the last time we were alone you worked me up really good, I wanna return the favor," your hands wrapped around the base of his beefy shaft, the small droplets of his pre-cum already covering its tip, forcing you to lick your lips in hunger. "If you have nothing else on your mind?"

Did you really care about his feelings since you asked him that question?

The man beneath you was definitely growing impatient, his hands gripping your hips as if he was about to imprint his fingerprints on your skin if you were not wearing your pants.

"Lie on your side," Bateman suggested suddenly. "Take off all your clothes and lie down here," he tapped the spot next to him and you stood up quickly, as if he had cast a spell on you. Never in your life did you get rid of your clothes faster than now. "Uh, what a cute ass you have, (y/n)."

You frowned at his words, giving him your dead stare as you slipped out of your underwear, giving him the full view—the glint in his hazel eyes was too much to ignore—so you turned around and presented yourself to him; Bateman couldn't help but lazily stroked himself, putting a hand under his head.

"Tell me, Bateman," you began, your hands slowly sliding down your bare skin. "Have you been thinking about me all this time?" You cupped your ass, bending over a little so he could see the spot right between your legs. "Or have you found a way to forget things you don't want to remember?"

He swallowed hard and closed his eyes for a second. "I wish there was a way to forget." Patrick murmured and watched as you lay on your side in the 69 position, then he did the same, his hot breath scorching the soft flesh between your thighs.

You wrapped your hands around his hips and eagerly took his drooling dick in your mouth, while he was lapping at your crotch. "Mm-fuck," you jerked against his face, your fingers digging deeper into his skin as Bateman feasted on you like the most delicious meal. "Me too, Bateman, m-me too."

Having said that, you swirled your tongue around the swollen tip of his veiny cock, causing a muffled moan to erupt from his mouth, its vibration sending shivers down the base of your spine, only spurring you on to go further, pushing his dick deeper into your mouth. Soon the room was filled with the soft, wet sounds of your shared oral pleasure, punctuated by soft but powerful moans and groans as you both teetered on the edge of ecstasy. Gripping your ass, Bateman responded to your actions with the same passion, devouring every drop of your flavor and giving you no chance to escape, his strong arms like ropes around your body. After giving his cock the attention it deserved, you decided to tease his heavy balls with light lapping on them, before slipping a finger inside his tight ass, you expected him to protest but instead you heard him moan and the next moment his hips began to move towards your penetrating movements.

"Good boy," you praised him, rolling your eyes at the way the man was sucking on your most sensitive spot. "Taking my finger so well..."

The coil in your lower abdomen was about to snap at any moment, but you still wanted more, you wanted to feel that cock inside you, even if it was going to rip you a apart. Breathlessly, you didn't even remember asking him about condoms, and how you managed to get out of bed and go to the closet, where you found a little box Bateman was talking about—its contents almost made you gasp in awe, so you decided to take it with you.

"Well, well," you crooned as you stepped back into the bedroom. "Should I ask you what this is or are you going to tell me?"

With a wide grin, you held out a large purple dildo, Patrick's eyes twitched and he gulped, leaning on his elbows. "I... I use it with hookers," the man confessed, licking his glistening lips covered with your juices. "Why?"

"Hmmm, you like watching women play with it?" You asked as you reached the bed. "How about actually using it and not just watching?"

Damn, you could swear you saw his breath catch in his throat, his muscles tense and his dick throbbing just at the mention of using that sex toy on him. 'So he likes that idea, what a naughty boy,' you chuckled to yourself and took your place on the bed next to him. "This is going to feel so good, baby," you brought the dildo to his lips, suggesting that he lick it for lubrication, and when he did, you could barely keep yourself from cumming, just from the sight of his tongue flicking around the tip of the silicone sex toy. "Get on your knees and let me take care of you."

"Fuck," Bateman cursed, but it was too late to turn back. Embarrassed but extremely aroused, the man got down on all fours and gave you full access to his firm ass, which you immediately fondled, spreading his buttocks and biting them one by one. "Mmh-hmm, (y/n)."

"Relax," you stroked his hips, kissing the lower part of his back just above the dimples that were too sexy to ignore. "God, you have such a beautiful body," you decided to praise him, knowing the effect it would have on him. "I would worship it forever if I could," which was only half true, or maybe...it was not. Leisurely, you showered his soft skin with little peaks here and there, dotting it with your marks of love, not even realizing that you were giving all of yourself to the process.

As you pressed the tip of the dildo against his puckered muscle ring, Patrick tensed at your touch, gripping the sheets and closing his eyes, so overwhelmed and confused at the same time, but your reassuring hand on his trembling one encouraged him to look back at you as you hovered over him to kiss his lips, his neck, his shoulder.

"(Y/n)," Bateman suddenly huffed through his clenched teeth. "I want you to..." he gasped as you flickered your wet finger around his tight asshole. "...fuck."

"You want me to feast on that delicious ass of yours?" You finished the sentence for him, grinning in pure gratification at his complete submission. "Is that what you want?"

"Yeah, y-yes," he grasped the sheets and positioned himself more comfortably on all fours— a clear sign that he was not used to this position and you couldn't miss it. "I want to feel your tongue... all over me."

"Shit, Bateman, you're a real sweet talker." With that you put the dildo on the bed next to you and before you knew it you were spreading his ass cheeks wide open to make a flat lick along his tight hole. "I wanna hear you," you gently but insistently probed his ass with your warm tongue, giving him several slaps on the buttocks that drove the man wild as you felt his velvet walls tighten around your tongue. "Good boy, c'mon, spread it out for me."

Blushing, Patrick used both hands to spread himself for your eager ministrations as you fucked him with your tongue while your hands traveled all around his hips before you wrapped one of them around his pulsating cock, fuck, he was so close, you could tell by the way his balls tensed when you gave them a slight squeeze.

"Don't cum until I let you," you commented and the next moment you were already pushing the sleek sex toy into his ass and this time he accepted it gradually, taking it in with ease—the sight made you gasp but you focused on giving him pleasure. "Tell me, Bateman, how does it feel?"

The question remained unanswered for a brief moment as you began to slid the dildo in and out, stimulating his prostate and causing him to shake and whimper in pure bliss, but when you decided to add fuel to the fire by jerking him off and sucking on his strained sac, Patrick could barely contain himself, his legs about to give way at any moment.

"F-fuck, a-aahhh, mmhhmm," he murmured into the pillow, his hands finding their way to your messy hair, gripping them almost to the point of pain. "I...c-can't...hold...it any longer," Bateman's wailing bounced off the walls of his luxurious bedroom, which had never seen anything like it before. "I..."

Though you wanted him to last longer, you were too overwhelmed yourself, feeling the string in your belly ready to burst. "Let it go," your words were like a balm to his ears as, just a moment later, his cock pulsed in your grasp, spraying loads of his thick cum across the Chinese sheets that Patrick had always been so fond of. "That's it…" You didn't stop fucking him with a dildo, nor did you stop pumping his throbbing dick, milking it until the last drop of his seed. "Good boy, you're such a good boy."

Panting, you pulled out the sex toy, covered in his slick, and brought it to his trembling lips, inducing him to suck it before taking it into your mouth, feeling the mixture of tastes on the tip of your tongue. Then, Bateman rolled onto his back, desperately gasping for air, his cock still hard. That was fucking phenomenal, but you didn't comment, thinking about your own orgasm at last. Locking your eyes with Patrick's hazel ones, you touched yourself the moment he beckoned you over, and without words, you mounted his flushed, sweaty face, riding it as desperately as you could, using his tongue and lips without shame. Tilting your head back, you grabbed his head and almost clawed at his scalp, feeling your insides about to fucking explode from the tension. So when you peaked, your scream could be heard all over Bateman's apartment. The orgasms you had before were nothing compared to this. It took everything from you, it made you die and rise again.

The final chord of the parade of shameless lust was when you let him fuck you in a way you didn't even expect. Spooning you from behind after he put the condom on, the man lifted your leg and sheathed himself inside of you till the hilt, making you feel so full you had to wrinkle the fabric underneath, but that was just the beginning as Bateman pulled you closer, trapping you in his arms like a cocoon, his tongue sliding around your ear shell with undisguised affection,

"Mmhmm, fuck, you're...so perfect," the man whispered into your ear, setting up the pace and resting his hand between your legs for extra stimulation. "Holy fuck! I'm cumming again, omh-shit..."

"Fuck m-me, yeah, just...l-like that...a-ahhh," you coaxed him to fuck you harder as you suddenly found yourself on the verge of climaxing again. "Gimme everything, baby, a-awww...goshhhhhhhh," you were the first to fall over the principle of pleasure, twitching along his body as if you were hit by the electric shock, all your nerves were on fire. "Bateman, mmhm-fuck-fuck! Your dick feels s-so good.."

Your vivid orgasm became the last straw for his second release as you felt him bite at your neck, his buffed frame shaking in spasms of pure rapture, you even had to hold back a scream from how painfully Patrick's hands squeezed your hips, but it was pleasurable pain of being ruined, of being fucked into a wet mess. Barely breathing, you didn't even remember how you passed out from exhaustion and for the first time in the last few days you fell asleep completely satisfied and happy.

When the first rays of sunlight crept through the blinds into Bateman's bedroom, you were already awake, as was he, but since you were lying with your back to his face, you didn't notice until the man kissed your shoulder, snuggled up against your neck, and made you roll over to face him.

As you did so, you dared to look directly into the brown eyes still clouded by the aftermath of your shared pleasure. "Hey." He muttered in a husky voice.

"Hey," you murmured back, hugging the pillow. "Did you sleep well?"

“Surprisingly—yes," the man stretched his arms, flexing his muscles and checking himself in the mirror on the other side of the room, which you hadn't even noticed. "(Y/n), I want you to go to the office and tell everyone that you're not going anywhere."

Shocked, you blinked several times, not knowing what to say as you hadn't expected anything like this.

With a nervous chuckle that turned into a hearty laugh, you rolled onto your back before sitting up on the bed. "Oh God, you're such a little Delulu, it's even funny," you looked at him—his face was nothing but a blank space without any visible emotions. "Did you really think that random sex would change my mind about changing jobs?" You chuckled again, louder this time. "I mean, the sex was really good, but... it's not like I'm going to give everything for this, you know?" With that, you got up from the bed and wrapped a blanket around yourself. "Can I take a shower?”

Trapped in the thought that only he could know, Patrick rolled onto his back, his eyes fixed on an invisible spot on the ceiling above him. "Yes," he murmured, barely audible. "Do whatever you want."

Walking towards the bathroom, you suddenly stopped and turned half around. "You better forget it," you said, savoring every word and finally returning the favor. "Maybe ask Paul Allen for advice," you grinned as you watched Bateman close his eyes in a feeble attempt to distance himself from everything that had happened. "Maybe he knows something about memory reboot machines that can help."

Without waiting for his answer, you continued on your way to the bathroom. Even though you were pleased with yourself, your revenge didn't taste sweet, but bitter, and its bitterness would remain on the tip of your tongue even after you washed yourself clean under the hot streams of water.

But the game was worth the candle, as they said.

Was it?

P.S. Thank you for reading until the end! I don’t have a taglist. You can follow my side blog @makeyoumineagain and turn on notifications to know when I update!

#american psycho #patrick bateman x reader #patrick bateman imagine #patrick bateman #patrick bateman x female reader #patrick bateman x you #slasher x reader #slashers x reader #slasher x you #slasher smut #patrick bateman smut #patrick bateman headcanon #christian bale smut #christian bale x reader #patrick bateman reader #christian bale #patrick bateman imagines #patrick bateman x male reader #gn reader

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five-rivers · 8 hours

Text

vacation in camazotz

@rgbyshipper101

“... keeps going like this, he’s going to end up dropping the house into another dimension again.” Danny sighed heavily.

“Well, that’s not really fair,” said Sam.

“Huh? What do you mean?” asked Danny, blinking blankly at her. “That’s definitely a thing he did.”

“Yeah, but that wasn’t totally him.”

“He was pretty tangential, actually,” said Tucker. “Unless there’s something you aren’t telling us?”

“I… haven’t I told you about the time he sent the house into a parallel dimension?”

“You didn’t exactly need to. We were all there.”

“No,” said Danny. “What are you guys talking about?”

“Yes, we were. The whole town was there,” said Tucker.

“You know,” prompted Sam. “Vlad pawning the Ring of Rage off on Valerie, you pulling Fright Knight’s sword out of the ground, Pariah Dark.”

“Yeah, you’re more related to us winding up in the Ghost Zone than your dad is.”

“Ooohhhh, I get what’s going on. You’re thinking of a completely different time. The time I’m talking about is way back in sixth grade.”

Sam’s gamer cave (she did not call it that, but that’s what it was) went quiet enough that the faint hum of the computer screens could be heard.

“Your dad sent you guys to another dimension when you were in sixth grade,” said Sam, spinning her chair around and pointing a painted fingernail at Danny.

“Yeah,” said Danny.

“Three years before your whole…” She waved her hand at him. “Thing.”

“Before you got zapped, she means,” said Tucker.

“Yeah. So?”

“So,” said Sam, “why is that, even though you knew alternate dimensions were a thing and your dad could get you there, you didn’t believe in ghosts and were okay with walking into the portal?”

“Okay, but, look,” said Danny. He put his controller to one side. “That’s– That’s a false equivalency.”

“Spending time with Jazz, I see,” said Tucker. He was now the only one still playing the game.

“Shut up,” said Danny. “I know stuff without Jazz telling me about it. But just because one unbelievable thing is true, that doesn’t mean that all unbelievable things are true. Besides, the dimension we wound up in was way different from the Ghost Zone. Had nothing to do with ghosts at all. Definitely not something you look at and then go, ah, yes, ghosts exist.”

“But you knew that other dimensions existed. Even if there weren’t ghosts on the other side of the portal, you still could’ve realized that it could take you to another dimension.”

“But it didn’t do that. It just half killed me.”

“By opening a portal to another dimension in you.”

“And?”

Sam glared at him. “You’re just playing dumb at this point.”

“Neither of you are playing anything, and I think at this point we can just say that Danny’s dumb.” Tucker’s computer let out a little jingle as his character completed a quest.

“Hey! Most of their stuff doesn’t work,” said Danny, exasperated.

“But you were messing around with something that they had made work before. Didn’t you think that could be dangerous? Or have consequences? Drop you in yet a different dimension? Something?”

“They said it didn’t work. I believed them. And you guys kept hassling me about it.”

“Someone skipped out on the ‘don’t give in to peer pressure’ PSAs,” said Tucker, singsong.

“You are not innocent here, Tucker! We’ve all done dumb stuff. Can we drop it? I thought we were playing games today, not playing ‘gang up on Danny for stuff we all did.’”

“Fine,” said Sam. She picked her controller back up. Danny picked his up a second later.

They continued playing the game.

Then Sam dropped her controller again, this time in her lap. “Okay, actually, this is going to bother the heck out of me if I don’t know. How did your Dad drop the house in an alternate dimension?”

“And what was it like?” added Tucker. He, of course, kept his eyes on the game.

“What was it like…” said Danny, contemplative. He made his character run around in circles. “How to explain?”

“Start with how you got there,” said Sam. “Go from there.”

“Okay. Well. It started off– It was pretty normal. You know.”

“Uh, no,” said Tucker. “Sending your house to another dimension is not normal.”

“Normal for them. For my parents.”

“Define normal here. Like, describe it,” said Tucker.

“Working on the portal.”

Sam let out a slow, exasperated sigh. “Really, Danny?”

“Well, it was that or weapons. Do you think their weapons teleported us to another dimension?”

“They could’ve. The bazooka does,” said Tucker.

“Fair,” said Danny. “But, like, they were working on the portal, but then they were going over some of the math - it was wrong, obviously - and they saw that there was, like, there was a, um. There was an ‘interesting result.’ Supposedly, distance fell out of the equation if you had the right inputs. Something like that.”

“Which means… what?” asked Sam.

“They thought they could make a teleporter.”

“What!” Tucker finally whirled away from his monitor. “They have a teleporter? They made a teleporter?”

“No. That’s the whole point. No teleporter. They messed it up. But, like, they built what they thought was a teleporter. And, of course, as soon as they built it, they had to use it. Mom wanted to do small tests, sending an apple back and forth or something, but Dad decided to jump right into teleporting the entire house, because it was vacation time.”

“Yeah, okay, that sounds like your dad,” said Tucker.

“Doesn’t it? Which is why I’m worried now, because it’s the same thing all over again, he keeps getting too excited and then doesn’t slow down to make sure things work the way they’re supposed to.”

“You have no right to criticize that, Mr. Walks Into a Portal and Dies,” said Sam.

“I think I’m the only one who does have the right to criticize it.”

“And the dimension?” asked Tucker. “I want to know about the alternate dimension.”

“Right,” said Danny. “Well, when Dad ‘teleported’ us, we knew things were wrong pretty much right away. You guys have read a Wrinkle in Time, right?”

“Sure,” said Sam.

“Yeah,” said Tucker. “It was assigned last year, wasn’t it?”

“Right, so, you know the planet with the brain? It was– It was kind of like that.” His character died and he sighed. “I suck at multitasking. It wasn’t even just the stuff, it was, like, the air was flat. The texture of everything was wrong. Everything was… fake? Like a performance, except it was the whole world. Everyone just had these smiles on their faces but they were… empty.”

Sam propped her head up on her fist. “Your parents sent you to play outside and didn’t notice any of that, didn’t they?”

“They did. But they did notice stuff. Like, all the houses being the same, the creepy sky–”

“The sky was creepy?”

“Super creepy. It was like. Segmented. Triangles. Like we were inside a pyramid. And all the roofs were also pyramids, now that I think about it. Just, pyramids everywhere. Really pointy ones. Oh! And gravity was also a pyramid.”

“What?” asked Sam.

“Gravity was a pyramid.”

“What does that even mean?”

“It was a pyramid. Gravity.”

“Okay, okay, I think I’ve got this,” said Tucker. “What shape is gravity here?”

“It’s round,” said Danny, “duh.”

“It’s round, so there you go, Sam,” said Tucker.

“It is round,” said Danny. “Like, gravitational fields, they’re round. But they were pyramids there.”

“Wow,” said Sam. “I wouldn’t have expected that. Pyramids.”

“See? Ghost Zone is totally different.”

“Yep,” said Tucker. His computer let out another chime. “By the way, you guys owe me soda now.”“How did you do that?” complained Danny. “You weren’t even looking at the screen!”

#danny phantom #phic phight #phic

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eyelessfaces · 19 hours

Text

uncalled for

summary: you get quite upset when poe "saves" your assigned mission by giving orders to your teams without consulting you; poe is determined to fix his mistake.

warnings: (public) arguing, talks of the future; family and having kids

tags: gn!reader, angst, being parents to bb8, fluff, this ends up being real sweet tbh

word count: 1.7k

masterlist | taglist | ao3

updates blog: @eyelessupdates

(uh yeah I'm back if you even noticed I was gone lol. I might just post this and disappear again for a little longer idk but anyways I'll explain the reason whenever I'm back for good; I'm okay don't worry, and I'm still gonna post fics don't worry it's nothing too serious fr)

It causes a disruption when you both barge into the hangar; despite the constant clattering and whirring of tools and material there, both your bitter shoutings have been overlapping the sounds ever since Poe started following you closely, right from the moment you hastily jumped out of your x wing to try to forget about the awful management of your mission that would probably cost you to never get to lead one again.

“It was my call, not yours” you affirm bitterly, voice dripping with resentment, your steps heavy and hurried as you try to shake Poe off but he is anything if not persevering, so it only manages to piss you off even more and fuel your frustration. “I didn’t need you to save my mission or whatever,” you exclaim, causing heads to turn as you walk across the large room, barely minding what is going on around you.

“I did because I knew it would work!” Poe tries to explain, still heeling you closely. “I wouldn’t have done it if I wasn’t sure it would be successful” he declares louder than he needs to, thrown off when you suddenly stop in your steps, turning to him.

“So you think you can make decisions for me? You think I can’t do it, can’t command a mission correctly?” you rhetorically ask, revolted, sighing a profanity under your breath before you storm off again, your steps resonating with frustration. Poe sighs and winces before he follows you again, taking a hold of your arm.

“Babe come on you know that’s not–”

You stop again, your patience running short. “You had no right to encroach on my orders, I knew what I had to do, and you stepping in with your own instructions could have blown the whole mission up!” you call out, pressing a finger to his chest.

It’s when you finally take a moment to take a look at his face that you realize it, what is going on; you are being the center of attention, the little show everyone stopped their current task to sit and watch, your every word carefully awaited by your unwanted audience.

You sigh softly, taking a moment to step back from the situation. “Now leave me alone before we embarrass ourselves further or before I tell you things I don’t really mean just because I’m angry and don’t wanna talk to you” you hiss softly before leaving Poe in the middle of the busy room where he watches you walk away, helplessly standing there.

When he looks around him, most people turn away and avert their gazes to pretend they haven’t witnessed anything, and Poe is well too aware of the tension still lingering in the air even as you exit the room.

When Jessika climbs down from her ladder after watching the scene from her cockpit, BB-8 rolls over to her and chirps sadly, having observed yours and Poe’s argument from afar just like most of the hangar after his master went running after you. She kneels down to the droid’s level, giving him a sympathetic smile.

“That’s gonna be fine Beebs, they always end up figuring it out somehow” she affirms as the droid’s upper part sinks in distress accompanied by saddened beeps. Jessika can’t help but smile fondly at him and his obvious concern, at the fact that he quite literally acts like you are his parents.

—

A few hours have passed when Poe joins you again; you don't notice him at first, having made sure to get focused enough on your paperwork to forget about the whole situation and try to ease the frustration within you. It's only when you put your datapad down that you see him leaning against the door frame.

“You're so pretty when you're focused” he smiles gently when your eyes meet his figure, causing you to roll your eyes and reluctantly smile at his words despite your lingering frustration.

“I’m still mad at you,” you sigh softly as you try to hide your slight smirk, gaze darting back down to enter numbers into your datapad.

He acknowledges your feelings with a nod, his lips pressed together in a tight line. “I know.” he admits, stepping into the room. “That’s why I’m here” You look back up at him, taking a deep breath as you set your datapad aside; despite the fact that everything he did since you wrapped your mission up got on your nerves, deep down you only wish for this to situation to get figured out and eventually be behind the both of you. You join him in front of your desk, leaning against it.

“I knew what I was doing. I was handling it” you affirm before he even gets the chance to do so much as open his mouth.

He holds a hand up to slow you down. “I know,” he nods understandingly. “I shouldn’t have redirected the plan, I should have trusted you. I was just afraid things would go wrong considering how it was all starting to go down so quickly” he explains. “I know I could have fucked it all up, everything you put in place so the mission could go right” you slightly tilt your head to the side in agreement.

“And I know my move was probably a lot more dangerous than the plan you had in mind to make everything right but you know I would never put you or our teams in danger, only myself” he declares with a concerned nod, causing your expression to soften. “You, never. I would never risk it, no matter what” there’s a soft frown over his face as his eyes flicker with sincerity, his confession making your heart ache as it hangs in the air before he talks again. “And I never doubted your ability to command a mission.”

You nod with a heavy sigh, acknowledging his apology. “I should apologize too. I shouldn't have lashed out on you like that either.” you admit and nod sheepishly, reflecting on your impulsive behavior. “I really wanted this mission to go right”

“For what it’s worth,” he starts with a small smile, trying to dissimulate a bigger one. “I talked about it with Leia and she thinks you did pretty good” his declaration doesn’t fail to draw an appreciative smile from you, one that makes him mirror your action. “And she thinks we would work great together”

“And I agree,” you reply, finally feeling a weight lift off your shoulders as the tension between you begins to dissipate. “We do make a good team.”

Poe’s smile widens, relieved to see you loosen up a bit. “Yeah, we do” he agrees with a small huff, stepping closer to you. “I just hate seeing you so worked up.”

You chuckle softly, shaking your head. “I hate getting worked up,” you scoff.

“I’ll try to think about it twice next time,” Poe promises, reaching out to gently take your hand in his. “I don’t want to step on your toes or make you feel like I don’t trust you or your judgment.”

Your fingers intertwine with his, the warmth of his touch calming you further. “Well I’ll try not to snap at you,” you promise in return, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze as you let your head rest against his chest with a small, barely audible sigh. “Especially not in front of everyone,” you mutter, earning an amused chuckle from him. You melt into his touch as he leans to press a gentle kiss over your forehead, his hand that is not holding yours coming to wrap around you.

It is only after you pull away from his embrace and leave a chaste kiss to his lips that the corner of your eye notices a sort of spy in the corner of the door frame.

“What’s he doing here”

Poe frowns before he turns around, huffing out a laugh when he notices BB-8 peeking out the door. “How long have you been here?” he jokingly scolds his droid that fully reveals himself now that he has been caught. “You know he doesn’t like when we fight” he softly sighs turning back to you, a mix of amusement and concern in his eyes before he looks at BB rolling over the both of you.

You shake your head, unable to suppress your smile at BB-8’s presence. “Very sweet of him to be looking out for us,” you start, reaching out to pat the droid’s dome affectionately. “But maybe he should learn not to eavesdrop.”

BB-8 chirps playfully, obviously pleased with the attention, seemingly eager to be a part of the reconciliation.

Poe chuckles, kneeling down to scratch behind BB-8’s sensor with a fond smile. “Yeah, yeah, we’ll work on that,” he says before glancing back at you with a soft smile. “He's our kid, he’s been worried sick about us, weren't you?” he turns to BB, who's beeping frantically in agreement.

You glance at him, then back at Poe, a softness settling in your chest at the sight of them together, your little family. “Our first kid, yeah” you smile softly, heart fluttering inside your chest.

“First? Meaning there's gonna be more?” Poe asks with a playful smile, getting back on his feet. He raises his eyebrows as he awaits your response, and you both laugh at the sudden change of atmosphere as Poe wraps a hand around you before pressing a kiss to your temple.

You huff out a laugh at his quick jump to conclusion, “I don't know, you're a pretty good dad to this one,” you shrug.

“A couple hours ago I was dead to you and now we're talking having kids” he laughs into your hair, a teasing tone in his voice.

“You weren’t even close to being dead to me, you’re so dramatic Poe” you declare with a small scoff, poking his chest lightly. “That’s the reason Beebs loves you so much” you tease, making him huff out a laugh. “I’d say we should focus on surviving one parenting experience first,” you chuckle looking down at BB-8, nudging Poe playfully. “But who knows what the future holds?”

Poe grins, his eyes sparkling with excitement as his arm grasps tighter around his hold on you. “As long as I have you by my side, I'm up for anything babe.”

—

reblogs and feedback are extremely (I cannot stress this enough) appreciated!!

star wars masterlist: @lockleysgrl @my-secret-shame-but-fanfiction @alexxavicry @mystinky-butt @anightshift @whatthefishh @dameronshandholder @campingwiththecharmings @mintgreen24 @spider-starry @jakecockley @cocodiem @spxctorsslxt @friedwings @luxisluxurious @stvnnie @dowbastan @il0vebeingdelulu @hammerhead96 @unear7hly

#poe dameron #poe dameron x reader #poe dameron fanfiction #poe dameron imagine #poe dameron fic #poe dameron x you #poe dameron x y/n #poe dameron fanfic #poe dameron fluff #star wars #oscar isaac #oscar isaac characters #poe dameron angst

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green-eyedfirework · 2 days

Text

Wintergreen blinked at the request.

He usually spent time listening to the pulse of the underworld, monitoring contracts on various forums and sites, talking to his sources, managing the web of contacts he had to find the kind of jobs that Slade would take. He was meticulous about it—Slade was attached to his reputation, and Wintergreen still had to hear his bitching about the one and only job he ever left unfinished, even though completing it would’ve meant killing Jericho.

Often, Wintergreen was approached directly. Several people wanted Deathstroke the Terminator’s services in particular, and most were smart enough to use him as an intermediary, rather than be faced with Slade’s uncertain mood. Wintergreen filtered through those as well, though most were Slade’s usual style and paycheck. There was a certain responsibility in essentially being a pseudo handler, a responsibility Wintergreen had accepted years and years ago, and he made sure to bury any contract that would destroy more of Slade than was already gone.

This particular contract...well. Wintergreen didn’t know what to do with it.

It was from a verified source—it was from Nightwing, so the morality of the job wasn’t in question, but Nightwing had never put out contracts before. Strange in and of itself.

The pay was generous, but then again, Dick Grayson was newly in control of the entire Wayne fortune, so that made sense.

The job was...unusual.

Wintergreen reread the contract, hoping it would make a little more sense this time.

Stand-in for Batman. Mission parameters strictly non-lethal, and minimum collateral damage. Mission includes patrolling Gotham City and assisting with containment of Gotham Rogues. Suit and gear will be provided. Particulars available upon acceptance.

Batman was dead. The whole world knew it, even if the Bats and the Waynes attempted to cover it up by sticking someone else in the suit and hiring a lookalike to play Bruce Wayne. Anyone with half a brain could tell that the Bats were fracturing—though in all fairness, they’d been fracturing for a while, Batman was just enough of a terrifying specter to cover it up.

And now Nightwing wanted to bring that specter back.

Well.

Wintergreen thought through the logistics—Slade was certainly capable of it, and the job wasn’t unreasonable—and then the implications—Dick Grayson must be truly desperate, if he was going to these lengths—as he considered the contract.

He finally came to a decision.

If nothing else, at least he’d get to see the look on Slade’s face.

~#~

“You’re going to need to repeat that again,” Slade said flatly.

“If you haven’t heard it the first twelve times I told you, Slade, I’m not sure what one more is going to do,” Wintergreen said. The bastard was amused, Slade could hear it.

“You’re telling me,” Slade growled, “that the goody two-shoes Robin is asking me to play Batman.”

“He’s Nightwing now, and yes, that is what I’m saying. I’m glad your listening comprehension isn’t failing.”

Slade made an inarticulate snarl.

“Are you accepting the job or not, Slade? It’s a yes or a no question,” Wintergreen hummed, looking away from the screen and down at his keyboard.

“You can’t be serious.” It wasn’t April 1st, and Wintergreen wasn’t in the habit of playing jokes, but if one of the kids had gotten to him—“Whose idea is it? Joey? Rose? Given that the man is dead, it’s in poor taste.”

“It’s not a joke,” Wintergreen replied. “Confirmed with Nightwing himself. It’s real, and yes, they’re really asking for you.”

“Why?” Slade asked, honestly bewildered. “I thought someone else was filling the suit. And even if they aren’t, why not get one of the other heroes to do it?”

“Nightwing was doing it, but he sprained an ankle, and the situation is too precarious in Gotham for him to take a break. No one else was available. Or so he says,” Wintergreen added, looking up.

“And you think this is a legitimate contract.”

There was a long, stretched silence. “Yes,” Wintergreen said finally, quiet, “I think it’s legitimate. They need someone with the skills, the control, and discretion, you fit all three.”

Aside from the fact that he was a mercenary, he’d fought them all once before, and now they were willing to trust him with the keys to the empire?

“I saw him. Nightwing,” Wintergreen clarified. “He looked exhausted. I doubt he had the energy to come up with an elaborate lie.”

“The kid’s a good actor,” Slade said automatically, and ground his teeth. “It’s most likely a trap.”

“You’re Deathstroke. Nothing they try is going to keep you down—”

“Just going to jinx it, are you—”

“And besides, Slade—aren’t you the slightest bit curious?”

Damn him. Damn him to the deepest pits of hell.

Slade always loved a challenge. If Nightwing was attempting a double-cross, Slade would enjoy shredding his plan to pieces and exacting retribution. And if he wasn’t...playing a hero? One of the first heroes, the infamous Dark Knight?

His blood was singing already.

“Fine. Get me a plane to Gotham.”

~#~

The meeting location was a rooftop in Gotham, which was typical. What wasn’t typical was Dick Grayson stumbling out of the rooftop access door on crutches, dressed in dark clothes and a domino mask in an attempt at secrecy.

Slade had thoughtfully foregone the Deathstroke armor, given the particulars of this request, but Grayson didn’t look armored or even armed. “Slade,” Grayson said, with something approaching relief. “You made it.”

“You have a job for me?” Slade said archly, watching as Grayson hobbled over. Sprained ankle, his ass. Something was at least cracked there, or Grayson would’ve foregone the crutches entirely.

“Yes,” Grayson wavered on one foot to run an absent hand through his hair. In Slade’s professional opinion, the kid looked like shit. “I’m assuming Wintergreen told you—”

“I’m not sure I can believe what Wintergreen told me,” Slade raised an eyebrow. “Seemed a little too fantastical to be true. You sure you want me for this job, kid?”

“You’re the best, aren’t you?” Grayson smiled, and it was a shadow of Nightwing’s charming grin. No wonder the kid had broken something, if he looked this close to passing out. He’d probably worn himself straight into the ground. “But if you’re accepting, we can take this downstairs.”

Slade should’ve said no. Should’ve walked away. Gotham was a sinking ship without its protector to hold it afloat, and best case scenario was that the place wiped itself off the map. He could even consider it a civic duty.

But the lines of exhaustion on Grayson’s face stopped him, the lines of exhaustion for a face that young, and besides—what was life without a little risk?

‘Downstairs’ apparently meant the basement, because of course the Waynes had a penthouse apartment with rooftop access and an elevator down to a secret bunker below the building. Wayne had really gone overboard with his bases, how many toys did the man need?

No, Slade was not jealous, and besides, there wasn’t a single gun down here. Not a single blade either, except for the one a twelve-year-old was currently menacing him with.

“So this is who you obtained to play theater for a week,” the kid sneered, and he sounded just like his parents. Both of them. “A trained pet who sees the world through a scope.”

It might’ve been insulting, if the kid wasn’t twelve. “Al Ghul,” Slade greeted, walking past him like the katana wasn’t even there.

“Wilson,” the kid spat, and those prickles were all Talia. The scowl was definitely Wayne’s.

“Is he going to be part of this too?” Slade asked, because he was demanding a raise if that was the case. The kid was a biter, and Slade wasn’t a babysitter.

“No,” Grayson replied just a little too quickly, his eyes going wide for a fraction of a second. “No,” he repeated, calmer. “Robin will be staying off patrol until I recover.”

“Tt,” the kid sneered, “I shouldn’t be handicapped by your mistakes, and I already told you that I’m more than capable of patrolling—”

“We already discussed this, Dami,” Grayson said, his light tone at odds with his pinched expression. “And my answer hasn’t changed.”

Slade could practically feel the kid’s seething glare, and mentally marked down a note to watch him. Twelve or not, the kid had been raised an assassin.

“Now, Alfred will be down soon to make sure the suit and gear all fits properly, and I’ll teach you how to throw batarangs in a bit, but first we’re going to go over the rules,” Grayson said, easing himself into a chair in front of a large computer setup. “First rule. No killing.”

Slade took a deep breath, “I’m well aware of your moral code, kid—”

“No killing,” Grayson repeated, blue eyes sharp. “Not for any reason. Not if you think it’s the only option left. There’s another way, there will always be another way, and you’re smart and fast enough to find one. Batman doesn’t kill, and if you’re going to wear the cape and cowl, I need to know you can stick to that.”

Grayson was acting like this was the first non-lethal mission Slade had ever taken. “No killing,” he repeated mildly, and Grayson deflated slightly.

“Great. Rule number two…”

#my snippets #bruce lost in time arc #slade gets a very unusual contract

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ana-chronista · 2 days

Note

Meow there 😸💛💛, I hope you are well 💛.

For the kiss prompt i would love bojure 17 ... to distract + 48 ... out of habit, please.

Have a nice day 💛💛💛💛💛

First, sorry for the delay - one of these came easier than the other but I wanted to wait until I could share both! (The one that was harder actually went through a whole premise change...) Secondly, thanks for the prompts - this is my first time writing Bojure! I hope I did it justice.

17 ... to distract

The thing about Jure is that he doesn’t get nervous. Bojan’s certainly never seen that look on him, and he’s fairly sure Jure would need a dictionary definition of the word before being able to confirm that he’s never experienced it in his life. “What time is it now?” No, what Jure gets is impatient. “It’s five minutes after you last asked, Muca.” Right now he’s little more than a vibrating ball of energy, hunched over and drumming on his thighs with his palms. “So why haven’t they called yet?” And Bojan gets it, he really does. The committee had told them they’d call by 11am to let them know if they’d been picked for next year’s Eurovision – because for all that there’s no national selection this year, there’s still a process to follow – and there’s nothing that puts you on edge quite like waiting to hear if you’ve managed to land the biggest opportunity of your career so far or not. Jan and Nace are at least twenty minutes into their stress smoke somewhere outside, and Kris is busy pacing the practice space below, organising and reorganising their equipment while speaking rapidly with someone on his phone in a voice too low to catch. Bojan had retreated to the loft to focus on his breathing, and Jure had joined ten minutes later, muttering something about feeling better from a higher vantage point. The fact is, they’re all more than a little tense as the seconds drag by, and he understands fully, a hundred and ten per cent, what Jure is feeling right now. “They just said around 11. It doesn’t mean they’re always going to be dead on, you know?” But his bouncing on the couch next to him is doing nothing to soothe either Jure or himself – in fact, it’s only agitating them both worse. “You’ve definitely got the volume up on your phone?” Bojan’s not sure he’s ever felt so incredulous as he does in that one moment of looking over at his friend. “Seriously, Jurček?” “Well, I don’t know!” Jure huffs in protest. “You might not.” “Do you not think that’s the first thing I would have checked?” He hates that his fingers are now itching to actually do just that. Irritation flares up white-hot inside of him, gritting his teeth and tensing his muscles. “I don’t know! Knowing you, probably n-” Bojan has moved before he even realises it, the only thought in his head that Jure needs to not be talking right now. Suddenly he’s pulled Jure close by his shoulder and the back of his head, crushing his mouth against the drummer’s to cut him off. There’s barely any time to register anything past the warmth of his lips before he breaks away “Boj-” Before he can start up again, Bojan reels him back in for another kiss, this time less hurried but more forceful. He can take it all in properly this time: how Jure’s mouth falls open for him, how he reaches up to brush Bojan’s hair back behind his ear, how much he pushes right back. Jure’s body has stilled now as though all of his energy is just being channelled into this one point of contact, and Bojan can’t pretend it’s not the same for him. His heartrate steadies and his muscles uncoil. It’s like the whole world has narrowed down just to the man next to him on the couch. In fact, it’s narrowed so much that it takes Kris calling him from the floor below to make him jolt back. “Bojan, answer your phone!” It’s only then that he registers his phone ringing at long last. Cursing, he fumbles to answer the call, answering Jure’s laughter only with a dig in the ribs that makes him squeal and squirm away even as Bojan does his best to sound professional and mature. When he next kisses Jure just five minutes later, it’s in celebration instead.

48 ... out of habit

Bojan can’t remember when, or even exactly how, the whole kissing thing had begun. If he had to guess, he’d put it somewhere within the first few months after Jure officially joined the band, probably at some party or on a night out with the others. He’s not even sure if he made the first move or if Jure did, but one of them must have done, because suddenly the tradition was born. Greeting each other for the first time after weeks apart? A kiss on the cheek. Saying goodbye after a night out? A kiss on the cheek. Congratulating one another after a successful gig? A kiss on the cheek. There were rules, of course, unspoken but still there. It had to be as over the top as possible. Why bother if it didn’t involve sweeping in, grabbing the other one dramatically, and landing the biggest, loudest, longest kiss on the cheek known to man? That was all part of the fun. Then, naturally, it became too funny not to do it all the time. Managing not to misplace a suitcase while travelling? Welcoming each other back to the room after five minutes? Celebrating a win in the never-ending Joker Out Uno tournament? No incident was too small to mark with another kiss on the cheek – jokingly, of course. And sometimes it might evolve to a kiss on the lips instead. Bojan did remember how that one had started, the time he’d come in too quick and accidentally caught Jure’s mouth instead as he turned his head. But the laughter had been instantaneous, and Jure had returned it with even more spectacle, so it was all fine. The rules remained the same for the odd time it happened, though usually it devolved into them wrestling to dip the other one first and laughing too much for them to ever make it to each other’s mouths.

And if anyone had ever asked, he’d have to say he’s never really thought about it. It’s not like he hasn’t kissed each of his other bandmates at one time or another, and he knows they’ve all done the same. They’re all just that tactile with each other, like good friends tend to be. So what if he and Jure have this long-running joke just between them as well? That’s also something that good friends do. And he carries on never really thinking about it – except for maybe the odd plan to ambush Jure in ever increasingly over the top ways – until one night in London. Or early one morning, really. It’s just after three, and while the others had dispersed to their rooms after they all bundled in from the pub, Bojan had decided to sit up for a while to work on the rest of the lyrics for their new song. It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but the buzz of enthusiasm had long since dried up once the words pinging around his mind decided that they just didn’t want to go onto the page properly. All he had to show for the last couple of hours were pages of increasingly frustrated scribbles and crossings out. “You’re still up?” Bojan jolts at the sudden noise, head whipping up. Jure is in the doorway, dressed for bed and hair all over the place. He’s clearly just woken up. “I thought I heard something.” he explains before Bojan can muster a reply. He nods towards the pages that Bojan had already given up on, torn from his notebook and now crumpled up and scattered by his feet. “Not going so great, huh?” The sound Bojan heaves in response as he buries his head in his hands is somewhere between a groan and a sigh. Caught up in his own frustration, he doesn’t realise that Jure has crossed the room until he feels the couch dipping next to him and a hand wrapping around his, pulling it from his face. All of a sudden he’s aware of just how much his own hand hurts from scratching away with the pen for so long as Jure smoothes out his fingers, kneading at cramped tendons and aching muscles. But before he can say anything – a protest that he should really get on with these lyrics or a joke that Jure should open a massage business as a sideline – Jure brings his palm up and presses his lips to it gently. The touch is barely there but it lingers for a moment longer than a joke should and Bojan finds that any and all words die in his throat. This isn’t something either of them have ever done before, but Jure’s eyes are still locked with his, calm and almost challenging. And then the moment is over. Jure gives his hand one last squeeze but doesn’t let go as he stands. “Come on. Come get some sleep. This can wait until actual morning.” It sounds so straightforward, so matter of fact, that all Bojan can do is nod and let him pull him to his feet. He’s right – there’ll be plenty of time later, and for now he’s got too many other questions on his mind to be able to concentrate.

#ana answers #fanfic #bojure

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quillsandblades · 3 days

Text

A Levihan fic based on the post by @devoteurheartlh

(I think I took the hand-holding too far)

With Us, it's Simple

‘C’mon Levi!’ Hange’s excited shout rises above the hubbub of the crowd, and he rolls his eyes. When will shitty glasses learn to behave in public? She sprints in the room as if she’s in a fucking amusement park and not her boss’s party. But maybe he can let it slide just this time as her boss also happens to be their best friend, Erwin. In an interesting turn of events, she ended up working for him almost two years ago and bringing the three of them together for the first time since their graduation. Levi was glad it worked out like that, he’d missed Erwin.

Four-eyes shouts something about wanting to introduce him to all her colleagues and he internally groans. Why did he even agree to come with her in the first place?

Without giving him a chance to backtrack, she seizes his hand and pushes him into the chatting crowd. He feels her hand wrap around the base of his palm, her fingers brace over his wrist, in a way he’s learnt that she’s feeling excited because her grip is tight but not too tight, like she’s carelessly letting her excitement seep into her actions. She drags him, he follows helplessly. Just like he has for almost ten years now.

She stops in front of a sleepy looking dark-haired woman and introduces her as, ‘This is Pieck! We’re best buddies, Levi!’

He smacks her head, ‘Oi! Aren’t we best buddies?’

She laughs and leans into his shoulder, ‘Oh Levi, you’re jealous?’

‘Shut up. Why the hell would I be jealous?’ And he turns to walk away but she’s still holding his hand and yanks him back just as quickly.

‘Don’t worry shorty,’ she winks at him. ‘No one’s taking your place. It’s special.’

And he feels irrationally warm at those words. But he doesn’t let himself mull over it; it’s simply one of the things Hange does and he’s come to accept the fact over the years that his body has a weird way to respond to her little statements and gestures.

Pieck gives them a charming smile and her eyes flit to their connected hands, ‘So you’re Hange’s boyfriend?’

She drops his hand and barks out a laugh, ‘What even made you think that? We’re just friends, silly.’

‘Really?’ Pieck arches a brow.

‘Yeah,’ Levi confirms. ‘For ten years now.’

The woman hums in a way that screams she would beg to differ, but if Hange notices she doesn’t dwell on it and Levi follows suit. Both women continue to talk and Levi throws in his own comments when Pieck mentions how challenging it is to work alongside Hange Zoe. She knows nothing. He’s been going through her shit for far longer, at this point he can actually consider himself an expert in Hange’s behavior and mood. And that’s saying something because according to everyone, she’s too damn unpredictable to be figured out, and whenever he hears that Levi allows himself a tiny whisper of a smile as he has her almost completely figured out. Almost completely meaning ninety eight percent. He’s still working on that two percent.

Soon Hange’s dragging him away once more, but her fingers now curl hesitantly around his in a manner that says she’s stuck over something in her mind. He jerks her back, ‘What?’ he asks.

She gets him without needing much words, shrugs off the thoughtful look from her face and straightens her shoulders. ‘Nothing.’

She turns around and leads him to more people.

The night progresses in more or less the same way, laughter tinkles and glasses of champagne clink, soft lighting of the room morphs around them. Almost every person they come across mistakes them for a couple. They brush it off, they’re used to it.

Erwin meets up with them soon.

‘So, how’s the host doing?’ Hange asks, jabbing an elbow into his crisp suit.

He chuckles and hands over some drinks to them from a waiter passing by. They sit and talk, about everything and anything and stuff friends talk about.

‘I see you two haven’t broken the tradition,’ Erwin comments after a bit.

‘Huh?’ Hange throws him a questioning look.

‘Still going to gatherings as “platonic dates”?’ he makes air quotes at that, an expression that seems too uncharacteristic of him. To the outside eye at least, they both have known Erwin long enough to guarantee that the man has some unexpected sides. ‘When am I gonna see a real couple here?’

‘Oh come on, Erwin!’ Hange snickers. ‘Not you too. You should know, of all people, that we’re just really close friends. I mean, I’m the same with you and Mike.’

‘I don’t see you asking me out for parties. But you’ve been doing that with Levi since we were in high school.’

‘Exactly,’ she points out. ‘He’s used to it. Besides,’ she nudges him playfully, ‘he’s more fun.’

Levi rolls his eyes. Erwin gives him a long, calculating look and he responds with his trademark bored stare. Sure his words made sense but Hange was right, there wasn’t anything like that between them.

(He chooses to conveniently ignore all the instances when he felt his heart hammer in an odd way, or color rise to his cheeks, or had this weird, warm and giddy feeling in the presence of four-eyes that said he would be happy to stay with her, in whatever place they were together, forever)

‘You know I believe when we’re in love with someone, we try to read into all the miniscule actions, expressions and words of that person,’ Erwin sips his drink. ‘We learn them by heart, like a language. To the point we even know what a certain flick of their brow means.’

Levi is silent. Staring into the swirling gold in his glass.

‘Are you implying something?’ He speaks up without looking at him.

‘I think I’m in love,’ he replies softly. ‘You remember Marie? I met her again.’

Hange’s eyes widen, ‘Oooh, really?’

She sits by the edge of her seat, bouncing lightly, all excitement. Marie was another friend from High School. Erwin falling in love is new, so Levi pushes aside any doubtful thoughts to focus on their words.

‘It turned out we live across from one another,’ Erwin is saying. ‘And she was just too eager to catch up when we met.’

Hange’s marveling at the way life throws people back at each other and giggling while thinking about how she can make Marie fall for Erwin. He laughs at her ridiculous plans and Levi feels a tug at his own lips as she chortles.

While she continues to ramble, Erwin shoots him another look. One that says his previous words were certainly meant for him. Levi just looks away and drowns his glass of champagne.

Erwin excuses himself after a while as he spots some people. Hange jumps up immediately, ‘Let’s dance.’

‘Hell no.’

‘Don’t be a grump Levi,’ she sings out and clamps her hand around his, insistent. She tugs, he resists. She tugs again and soon he’s out of his seat and they’re moving between bodies and Hange’s laughter is loud in his ears and her cheeks are red, a red that he wants to lean forward and brush his thumb over. She’s moving with the beats and urging him to do the same. He halfheartedly mirrors her and she snorts.

Then the music shifts, gentle melodies twist through the air.

And Hange pulls him close with the lull of the song. Her smile is radiant. Her forehead leans against his and she grabs both of his hands. Their eyes fall shut. Her thumbs rest softly around his own, the rest of her fingers encircle his knuckles in a gentle, unperturbed hold.

She’s happy, he concludes.

He knows it from the way her fingers press into his skin and wrap around his hand. He’s come to learn it all with time.

She hums along as they sway, lost in the rhythm of their hearts. He feels her getting closer and snaking an arm around his waist. He pulls back his face and looks at her.

Levi is pretty sure he doesn’t need glasses. Last he checked, his eye site was perfectly fine. So he doesn’t really understand why the lights, the colors and people seem to have blurred out around him and the only thing he can focus on is Hange’s face which holds an odd expression.

She’s not quite smiling, not frowning either. It’s like her eyes are hanging between confusion and revelation. He can see the rapid color gathering in her cheeks. Her lips part to shape words she has yet to say, and Levi feels a knot of anticipation wind in his gut. Thoughts hang at the tip of her tongue but she hesitates ever-so-slightly. Then she says,

‘Do you know Axolotls can regrow their limbs.’

Levi blinks.

He knows that’s the last thing she was gonna say. She’s no longer gazing at him, instead she guides them around other couples dancing.

‘So can starfish,’ Levi grunts at her.

She chuckles, ‘Yeah, but Axolotls are cuter. I wanna study their regeneration process once I’m done with my current project.’

Levi hums. There’s still something hanging between them, almost tangible.

‘You know there are possibilities to enhance human tissue healing or regeneration through such studies. There’s a lot to discover in this direction.’

‘I’m sure you’ll end up finding some weird shit or other.’

‘D’you think Erwin will allow me to bring in live specimens to the lab?’

He shrugs, ‘Only if he thinks it’s worth it.’

He cuts off her next words by suddenly twirling her around, and maybe she’s had a lot to drink so she loses her footing and stumbles backward without warning, brown eyes wide.

Instinctively, he leans to steady her, arm around her back. Their torsos crash against each other and he finds his face inches away from hers. She looks startled, mouth half open and glasses sitting low on her nose. Her face gets a deeper shade of red, or maybe it’s just the light playing upon her cheeks. He can feel the thrum of her heart in his chest.

‘Hange . . .’ he murmurs, not sure what he longs to say.

Her eyes glide over his features. She opens her mouth, ‘I . . . I—uh—’

She slips out of his grasp and crashes to the floor as someone bumps into them.

‘Oi!’

‘Sorry!’ the man calls out over his shoulder.

But Hange’s already standing up, dusting herself and moving in the other direction, ‘Sorry I—I think I need a glass of water,’ she mumbles hastily, and all but runs away from him. He sighs and makes his way to a quieter corner.

‘Hello there, young man,’ a voice beside him makes him turn. An elegantly dressed, elderly lady is sitting on a sofa— probably someone’s mother. She smiles at him, ‘Hope you don’t mind asking me, but how long have you been married?’

‘Married?’

She nods, ‘Ah you see, I was just a tad bit awed at seeing how true love can be found even today. You were dancing with your wife just now, right? You both seem very fond of each other.’

He finds it hard to say it around the gentle look she gives him, but he pushes the words out anyhow, ‘We’re not married.’

‘Oh,’ her face falls. Then she smiles again. ‘But still very much in love, yes? I can see that at least, and I tell you my eyes never lied in the matter of hearts.’

Levi swallows, not knowing what to make of this. But that’s when he spots Hange in the distance. A tall blonde man is talking to her, but even from far away Levi can see how her posture is tense. He excuses himself and rushes to her side.

‘. . . was thinking it would be a delight,’ the blonde was saying. He wore round glasses and his beard took almost half of his face.

Hange replied something distractedly.

‘Oi, where were you?’ he comes to stand beside her and lightly smacks her shoulder.

‘Levi,’ she breathes it out almost like an exhale of relief. Then points at the Beard, ‘This is Zeke, we work in the same department. Zeke, meet Levi.’

Zeke offers him a neutral smile, eyes piercing into him. He nods in return.

‘I’ve been looking for you for quite some time, Hange,’ the blonde turns his attention towards her. ‘I was starting to think you wouldn’t show up.’

Hange laughs out a fake sound, ‘I would never miss Erwin’s party.’

‘Of course,’ he smiles widely and his gaze travels over her from head to toe. Her hand creeps out to Levi, fingers lacing through his, pressing the tips hard into his flesh.

She’s anxious.

‘You look gorgeous tonight,’ The Beard murmurs. ‘Would you spare a dance for me?’

‘Um actually I—’ the pressure on his hand increases, a silent plea.

‘We’re sorry,’ Levi cuts in, not sounding sorry at all. ‘But Hange needed some air after all the dancing. We’re just heading out.’

Zeke considers them for a moment, noticing their hands

‘So you’re dating?’ he asks.

Before Hange can speak, Levi answers, ‘Yeah.’ His tone is rough, as if challenging him.

When no one says a word, Levi pulls her towards the entrance and they step out into the cool night air. The noises from the inside grow muffled as they both settle on a wooden bench. There’s a wide garden spread in front of them, coloured dark in the shades of the twinkling night. Above them the stars gleam in the sleeping sky.

Hange leans against his shoulder, ‘Thanks.’

‘That asshole works with you?’

‘Yeah, but he’ll be changing departments soon. He’s been trying to ask me out for so long, but honestly speaking, I don’t like his intentions. Plus, he holds some perpetual grudge against Erwin,’ she speaks quietly.

‘You rejected him then?’

‘Yeah. but I guess he just doesn’t understand the meaning of no.’

They fall into silence. A breeze lifts his hair and Hange’s fringe tickles his neck.

‘Everyone thought we were a couple today,’ She whispers.

‘Not for the first time.’

‘It makes me think, Levi. Why don’t people say the same about me and Erwin or Mike, or you and Petra or Nanaba. We’re all close friends aren’t we?’

She faces him, still resting against his side. They’re in close proximity once more, closer than friends should be, but it doesn’t seem to bother either of them. His heart feels simultaneously restless and content—a phenomenon he associates with the presence of Hange Zoe alone.

‘So you think we’re something more than friends?’ he asks.

‘Everyone says so.’

‘Everyone’s opinion doesn’t define what we really are.’

‘No,’ she agrees. ‘It doesn’t.’

Then she fully turns to him and he reads in her eyes, a question. He gives the affirmative—and really that’s just how simple it is for them, how simple they are. Clicking wordlessly into place like pieces of a puzzle.

She tilts forward and their mouths connect in a perfect symphony as their eyes flutter close. He feels her press her lips softly to his own but with a certain pressure, takes a moment to note their chapped surface from the parts where she’s always pulling at them and the lines that map out their contours. She’s kissing him lightly, her movements unsure, almost shy. He can feel her joyful giddiness though, and the telltale lift of her lips curling into the smallest, most softest smile and he—

He just thinks he’ll let it happen for a while. He’ll get plenty of more chances to read into the press of her lips on his and translate what each kiss represents. Learn how she’ll kiss him when she’s sad, or when she’s happy or angry or any other thing.

For now, he’s at peace with knowing that she loves him.

She tells him that herself: in the way she holds him close, in the way she laughs against his mouth, and how she touches him.

And he knows because he has her figured out already.

#levihan #levi ackerman #hange zoe #my writing #levihan fanfiction #ao3 #attack on titan #inspiration is tempting

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scekrex · 2 days

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Hiya,

It's me again. I'm having one of these days when I don't want to get out of bed and everything is just tragic. Because of that I was wondering if I could ask for something with Adam/reader feeling very nostalgic and down in the "you looked at me wrong, now I'm gonna cry" way. When they come home their partner just shove them with all kisses and cuddles in the world. I'm in need of something extremely fluffy and vanilla

I totally get your vibe, I spent the entire day in bed and I did nothing, I think I got a little carried away in the middle but I hope you like it nonetheless :3

I got all twisted up, you helped straighten me out

pairing: Adam x male!reader

warnings: language

note: not beta read bc fuck you I don't have beta readers

The day itself felt off, had been ever since you had woken up in the morning and when Adam had wanted to do you a favor by letting you sleep in and canceling your appointments for the day, you felt hurt - you weren’t even able to explain why you felt the way you did, but it stung when you had woken up hours later to a simple note on your bedside table that read ‘Ya ass seemed really fucking tired, canceled ur shit, will be back whenever the fuck Sera lets me leave’, underneath the text was a little drawing of himself trying to form a heart with his hands - it looked more like a dick than a heart though. It was cute that Adam had written you a note at all, but yet it didn’t sit right with you, especially because today would’ve been the only day in the week on which your schedule lined up, so you technically could sit in Sera’s office right now, messing around with your boyfriend and talking shit about whatever crazy bitch ass plan the seraphim was working on this time.

Instead you sat at home, alone with nothing to do because Adam had canceled every single plan of yours - you weren’t mad about that itself, you weren’t mad at all. You felt sad rather than angry because didn’t he want to spend the day with you at work, to grab a milkshake afterwards like you always did and watch the sunset in the park that was only a five minute flight from your home? Did he want to spend the day alone without you, away from you rather than by your side?

You haven’t left the bed, not when you have woken up, not five hours later. You had gotten up once - real quick - to pee, but after that you had gone right back to bed, the blanket wrapped around your body instead of Adam’s wings because instead of calling in sick as well, he had decided to leave you alone at home. And while your logical mind kept telling you that he meant well, your emotions spoke a different language.

When you heard the front door open you peeked out from underneath the blanket and when you heard familiar sounding steps heading towards the living room while the lovely voice of your boyfriend called out your name you went back and hid underneath the fabric. It only took the first man a couple seconds to open the bedroom door and sigh at the sight of you. “Still not feeling better babes?” And he sounded genuinely interested in your well-being, but did he care or was he rather annoyed to be back by your side? You didn’t answer his question, ignored it when he sat down next to you and simply pulled the blanket even tighter around your body. His hand came down to grab a fistful of the fabric you were hiding under and with one firm tug he pulled it away from you entirely, sending it flying across the room so you wouldn’t reach for it and hide away again. “Okay fuckface, tell me what the fuck is up,” the choice of petname wasn’t exactly what you had hoped for, in general you didn’t mind the somewhat mean petnames he sometimes used for you, it was his love language after all and to be fair, it was yours too - a little at least. But now? Now you had hoped for something softer. Fuckface only played into your thought of him being annoyed with you and your company. “If you’re growing tired of me just say so, I’m a big boy, I can handle rejection.”

To Adam that reaction came out of nowhere and he wasn’t quite sure on how he was supposed to respond - what the fuck made you think that way? Had he done something wrong? “The fuck is your cracked up ass talking about?” You spread your wings, used them to hide your body away from Adam yet again though you positioned them so that you were able to peek through your feathers and when your sad, tired and somehow even broken eyes met his confused ones, Adam knew something was up and said ‘something’ wasn’t small at all. “You left without saying a word,” you mumbled quietly, too tired of your emotions to speak louder but the brunette sitting next to you had understood you perfectly fine. But that only resulted in him being even more confused, because what the fuck? “I wrote you a fucking note, bitch,” he pointed to the bedside table on which his note was still laying. Your eyes moved to the spot he was pointing at, then back to him, “Today’s the only day our schedules line up and you left me here.” Oh. Oh. Now Adam understood what your problem was - or at least he thought he did. Either way, he was sure to know how to fix that now.

“We can still go out, grab the fucking milkshakes and watch that stupidly perfect sunset like we usually fucking do, y’know?” That simple offer of his took you by surprise and you lowered your wings in order to look at him properly, “Really?” That caused the first man to chuckle in amusement as he gently pulled your body closer to his own until your head was resting in his lap, “Yeah babes, fucking really.” “So you’re not growing tired of me?” Another chuckle vibrated through his body and a small smile appeared on your face as you felt it in every inch of your body. You wiggled your body into a more comfortable position, your head remained in his lap though and soon his hands found their way to your hair as he started to gently play with it. “Why the fuck would I?” And that question made you feel a little embarrassed, “Dunno, usually when one of us calls in sick on this day of the week, the other does so too so we can still spend the day together and I thought…” you didn’t even finish your sentence but you knew you didn’t have to, Adam got where you were coming from. So he playfully ruffled your hair as he responded, “Fuck nah, your ass is way top fucking adventurous, hell would fucking freeze before I grow tired of you, babes.” A soft kiss was placed on your forehead before the first man continued, “You just seemed fucking exhausted lately so I handled your shit for today.”

And that made you calm down a lot, so he was not growing tired of you and tried to get some distance between the both of you in order to make a later breakup less painful - not that this plan would’ve worked anyway. Your body leaned into his warmth, embracing your boyfriend’s company at its fullest, “You said milkshakes are still on the table?” Adam beamed at the mention of milkshakes and he was off the bed with you in his arms in an instant, ready to leave the house just like that, not even caring the slightest bit about the fact that you were wearing nothing but one of his shirts and underwear. “Bet ya sexy ass they fucking are,” he rushed over to the bedroom door before you were able to stop him, your shitty mood from before was long forgotten as you repeatedly told Adam to slow down while you laughed the brunette’s reaction. “I need to get dressed first,” you explained as he set you down on your own feet. “Just put on a pair of sweats and call it a fucking day, we’re gonna miss that fucking sunset if you need longer than thirty seconds,” he complained with a playful undertone as you picked up a pair of sweats from the ground - you sniffed them quickly making sure they didn’t smell too bad before you put them on and joined Adam who had already headed to the front door in the meantime. “There ya fucking are, finally” he hummed happily as he opened the door, scooped you back up into his arms and left t your house in order to get your weekly milkshakes.

#hazbin hotel #hazbin hotel adam #adam x male reader #male reader #adam x y/n #adam x reader #adam x you

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creative-heart · 2 days

Text

"My thoughts will echo your name"| Esteban Kukuriczka

Chapter five: “In the dark, we’re barely hanging on”

Lucia’s notes: We finally getting rid of Lucas! yaayy, so in advance, this is gonna be kind of a sad chapter, also, we’re approaching the end of this wonderful fic, only 2 more chapters to go. The section that is completely in italics are Y/N’s memories.

Playlist:

Happier than ever- Billie Eilish

Atlantis- Seafret

Lose you to love me- Selena Gomez

Somewhere only we know- Keane

Traitor- Olivia Rodrigo

Flicker- Niall Horan

Bigger than the whole sky- Taylor Swift

Content Warning: Break up, angst, sadness, drinking (not too heavily).

Word Count: 1.9k

After that night with Esteban, Y/N knew exactly what she needed to do, the blonde had to admit that this was a decision long overdue, it had just taken her to get to this point to realize it. Mastering all the courage she had she called Lucas “Hey, can you come to the apartment? we need to talk” she said as soon as she heard the phone click when her boyfriend picked up the phone.

“Hello, what is there to talk about?” Y/N rolled her eyes at his reply “just come over Lucas” she hung up pacing around the living room her bags already packed by the couch, she was decided to leave, where to, she had absolutely no idea, it wasn’t like she was going to go back to her parents, that door had closed long ago, she couldn’t turn to Amelia either, they might be friends, but she was Lucas’ sister at the end of the day. Y/N kept pacing around until she felt the turn of the keys in the door and stopped in her tracks taking a deep breath before he saw the guy’s face walk into what used to be their shared home.

“Well.. I’m here, wanted to talk? talk, I’ve got plans” Lucas crossed his arms over his chest. Y/N took a deep breath facing him and raised an eyebrow trying to keep the best poker face she could master.

“I think we need to break up, I’m done and tired of feeling like a fly on the wall for you, you haven’t turned to look at me all but twice in the past year almost. You think I don’t know how you’ve been talking to Alma all these years we’ve been together? and no, before you say anything, I didn’t need to go through your phone, but you’re way too obvious. You’ve never let me be myself, whatever I did was wrong, wasn’t good enough”- damn it- she cursed at herself internally when she felt the tears brimming her eyes through her well rehearsed speech. The girl looked away to wipe at her eyes before turning back around. “I deserve more than this, I don’t deserve feeling like the last option on your life, like you’d rather be anywhere but home with me, I’m tired Lucas, I loved you, damn it, even if you don’t deserve it, in some stupid, sad, twisted way I still do. And I do thank you for everything you gave me when we got together, you showed me who I could be, I don’t know what changed, but it’s too late.” Y/N looked at the tall guy frozen in his spot, absolutely gobsmacked blinking slowly “We’re done Lucas, I’m leaving, pease don’t come after me” she whispered grabbing her things and walking out the door as her keys to the apartment rested on the table beside the door.

The brunette turned around looking at her back “wait….Y/N, we can work through this, I’m sure” he said softly, not that he really cared about her, but his family thought she was wife material and her trustfund was pretty steep. Y/N the Hazel eyed girl turned around once more and he knew, he knew then and there that there was nothing left in there for him, she felt nothing.

Y/N walked out dragging her luggage after her and started walking down the street, not too sure where to. She just knew she needed to get as much distance between her and that apartment as humanly possible; as she walked her mind alternated between playing over images of her relationship with Lucas, how the whole situation had unfolded over the years.

Y/N had just transferred universities to go to law school in the big city, coming from a small town, this had been the plan since she was a kid, she wasn’t too sure if it was hers or her parents plan, but it was the plan. As she walked into her first class, she saw a handsome guy, slightly older than her standing at the front of the room and she headed over “excuse me, is this criminal law 101?” she said barely above a whisper. The guy looked at her, gorgeous brown hair paired with piercing blue eyes, she felt the air escape her lungs. “Yes it is, take a seat, we’re about to begin”, handsome eyes turned out to be the student teacher assistant, Lucas was his name.

After a few months of just looking at each other across the room in class, he walked up to her after class and smiled “would you go out for a drink with me?” and that’s where it all started. Sweet nothings whispered in her ear wherever they went, holding Y/N while she cried after her parents told her that she would no longer be their daughter if she dared drop out of Law School to pursue photography, he had held her up when she thought she was gonna fall to her knees.

Y/N didn’t know when, or how, but she had started crying again her tears falling freely down her cheeks, but she wasn’t sure why, she knew breaking up was the right move, she was better off without Lucas. The blonde didn’t realize how she had made her way to Esteban’s building, she looked at the doorbell panel and saw his name pressing the button hoping he’d be home and he’d be available.

“Hello?” she heard his sweet voice over the com and her heart skipped a bit “is anyone there?” shit, she hadn’t replied “Kuku, it’s….it’s me, Y/N” she hiccuped into her end of the com “are you busy? can I please come in?” she whispered.

“Sweetie, are you crying? oh god, of course, come on in” he buzzed the door opened and once he heard the click of the door closing behind her he went and opened the apartment door waiting for her. As soon as Y/N stepped out of the elevator, suitcases behind her and eyes red with tears he frowned and went over hugging her “Hey hey, what happened babe?” the older man said quietly walking them back into the apartment taking the luggage with him, he walked them both to the couch before going to get a cup of tea for Y/N “what happened Y/N/N? wanna talk about it?”

Y/N looked up at the brown eyed man for the first time since stepping out of the elevator, tears still streaming down her cheeks like rivers and she hated herself for crying like that. She nodded softly “it’s over” the younger whispered “I finally broke up with Lucas” she gulped thick pressing the heels of her hands to her eyes as to suppress the tears to keep erupting. Kuku couldn’t help but feel relieved and almost happy for that to be over, he knew it wasn’t okay, he could tell Y/N was suffering and he wanted to take that away from her, but he was happy about her being single as he handed her the tea and sat down “I have nowhere to go now Kuku” she whispered taking a sup of the tea “I left the apartment, cause it was his name on the lease, and I can’t go to Amelia’s obviously, I can’t go back home to my parents, another of my friends isn’t in a place to take me in, I don’t know what I’m gonna do” Y/N said looking down into the mug swirling it gently.

“You may think this is a bit out there and crazy….but you could always stay here, I don’t mind, you can take my room, I can either sleep here on the couch, or even go to one of the guy’s places, maybe Mati or Fran” Kuku smiled sheepishly “you can stay as long as you want or need to get back on your feet” Y/N didn’t even dare looking at him, she knew too well what kuku’s eyes did to her on this short time of knowing eachother, not like she was in the mood for much right now, but he melted her heart away. Y/N stayed silent for a while, she really liked the idea of sharing a place with this sweet man, but she knew it was way too risky, after what seemed like an eternity for the sweet eyed man, she looked back up to him.

“I don’t wanna be alone tonight, but I would really appreciate it if you could…please don’t feel imposed, go to one of the guys places after, if you don’t want to, or can’t just let me know and I’ll for sure get another place to stay” Y/N downed the rest of her tea as Esteban shook his head “nonesense, you stay here as long as you want” he smiled softly rubbing her back and his touch felt like a warm blanket over her, it always felt so protective and she could stay like this forever. Y/N looked at him and smiled softly “Thank you so much, would it be possible to take a warm shower? I got kinda cold” the older man nodded and pointed her to the bathroom.

That night, after Y/N fell asleep in his arms while watching a movie to try and help her distract herself from the events of that day, Esteban stood up carefully picking the petite girl in his arms walking to his bedroom to lay her down as he tucked her in and kissed her forehead he stood back to his full height grabbing a few things to go settle on the couch for the night and he heard a sleepy voice say quietly “sleep with me please?” God every new thing he discovered about her drove him even more insane, that sweet soft sleepy voice and how angelic she looked while sleeping, he could never say no to this woman and so he laid down with her still fully clothed, he didn’t want her to get the wrong impression as she nuzzled back against him he kissed her head closing his eyes letting her always drunkening scent to wash over him lulling him to sleep.

Four days had gone by and he had been staying with Mati and Male to give Y/N some space, but today, encouraged by the pair he decided to go check in on the blonde girl taking some comfort chinese food with him, if she was anything like Male had suggested, she was probably not eating much. Esteban made his way to his place and knocked ont he apartment door. Soon enough Y/N opened the door, messy bun in her hair, pjs consisting of an old scooby doo t-shirt that was way too big on her and some baggy sweatpants, her eyes widened when she saw the guy standing at the door and she tried fixing her hair “kuku… I …I didn’t except you to come over, come on in”. The guy chuckled softly walking into his place and looked at her “No, you clearly weren’t, sorry to come unannounced, I just wanted to check on you, I’ve brought chinese takeout, and we can order some ice cream after if you want, I know how much you like salted caramel and chocolate” Y/N turned around smiling for the first time in days, how did he remember that? they’d only had ice cream a couple of times.

As she made some place on the coffee table she looked at the guy again “pick out something to watch? I’ll go get something to put the food in” she took the bag from the tall man and disappeared into the kitchen. If Esteban wasn’t mistaken, the smile she gave him right then wasn’t the same she always had, this was different, and he really wanted to discover more behind it, with no one standing between them, he knew he had to start acting soon, but he didn’t want to rush her into something she wasn’t up to. This was definitely screwing with his head.

P.S: I cringed so bad at this chapter god, so sorry, but it was necessary. Also credits to @cafekitsune for the awesome scene dividers.

taglist:

@madame-fear @cyliarys-starlight @castawaycherry @luceracastro @espinasrubi @lastflowrr @koiibiito @candycanes19 @nperoconelcositoarriba @lxdyred @deepinsideyourbeing

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