#if i would’ve done it different it would’ve been dress and ivy only

[cherienymphe]

xoxo (Peter Parker x Reader)

WARNINGS: NON-CON, roofie use, Stark!Peter, snobby rich people, Peter’s an ass (I believe @opheliadawnwalker3 coined the term “baby Ransom”)

DNI IF THIS OFFENDS YOU

➥ {page breaks done by @whimsicalrogers}

summary: Peter Stark, the adopted son of the playboy philanthropist Tony Stark, has been a pain in your ass for years. Ever the womanizer, you always brushed off his flirtatious behavior as part of his personality, unaware of just how deeply his feelings ran.

You leaned against the bar with a grimace, nursing the strong drink in your hand as the annoying sound of high-pitched laughs and fake compliments drifted up from downstairs, swirling around you. You glanced over your shoulder to look down at the rest of the guests before rolling your eyes at this soiree that was nothing more than a pissing contest for the rich and snooty.

You truly hated being the daughter of a wealthy CEO more often than not. You’d grown up with the kind of lifestyle that more than half the world would never taste, ignorant to not only reality, but the true inner workings of the business that funded your lifestyle. It wasn’t until your junior year of high school when the rug was ripped out from underneath you, exposing the dark truth.

Now, you detested everything about this lifestyle. From the preferential treatment to the fancy parties, you hated everything that came with it. Despite the fact that you were an adult now, your father still had an iron grip on you no matter how much you pretended he didn’t. It was why instead of going on a humanitarian trip with some friends from college for winter break, you were back in the big apple, the upper east side to be exact, surrounded by a bunch of brownnosers.

“Another please,” you murmured, setting your empty glass down onto the bar.

The bartender was quick in giving you a refill, but before the glass met your lips, a finger slid in between to gently push it away. A sigh escaped you before you even turned your head, the familiar smell of his cologne reaching your nose.

“You’re always off by yourself at these little gatherings…”

You turned towards the voice, eyes meeting his dark ones as a playful smirk danced along his pink lips. His brown hair was neatly pushed away from his face, suit fitting him to perfection. He looked so put together and very much like a gentleman. Too bad that you knew better.

“Someone like me might take it as an invitation to approach you.”

You fully turned in your seat, leaning your elbow on the bar to gaze at him, unimpressed, cheek resting on your hand. He too was leaning on the bar, signaling for the bartender to get him a drink, already sliding into the seat in front of you. You could’ve protested, but he wouldn’t listen anyway.

Peter Stark was the bane of your existence. Adopted by the great Tony Stark when he was just a toddler, a big ordeal that made the papers apparently, the dark-haired male grew up in the same environment you did. The same circles. You went to the best schools together, often times having the same batch of friends. He always had the teachers and just about every other adult fooled, but everyone else knew better.

Peter’s charm was notorious. Those soft brown eyes and boyish good looks could have any girl swooning at his feet. He was so good that most girls didn’t even mind being one of the many. As long as they were a number, they didn’t care. Let them tell it, he had a way of making every single one of them feel special. You probably would’ve been one of them had you not seen his behavior firsthand all those years ago. How he’d tell one girl one thing and say something completely different to the next.

Peter’s constant flirtations with you and your absolute refusal to ever even entertain him had made your relationship…interesting. Could you even call yourselves friends? He flirted with you, and you rolled your eyes at his antics. That was the gist of it. His behavior had only gotten worse once you’d denounced this lifestyle the minute you left for college, a non-Ivy League college at that.

You remembered the surprise you felt that Peter had seemed to be genuinely upset with the 180 you’d done with your lifestyle. You had rolled your eyes as he’d called you all sorts of ‘wannabe’ this and ‘wannabe’ that, biting your tongue as he insulted your ‘low rate school’. Even now, after a little over 2 years, he still sneered whenever he brought up your new life.

“Color me shocked you even showed up today. Last I heard you were going to build houses for children,” he said, nursing his drink.

You smirked at him, fighting back a laugh.

“Last you heard? Keeping tabs on me, Stark?”

He returned your smirk, dark eyes trailing over you, gaze lingering on whatever skin your short dress exposed. You weren’t fazed by his conspicuous onceover, more than used to it.

“Of course. I have to make sure my best girl stays out of trouble,” he told you, leaning in.

You scoffed, looking away from him as you downed your drink.

“Your best girl,” you dryly repeated, standing. “Yeah, okay.”

Peter hurried to stand with you, whistling at the bartender as you walked away. It wasn’t long before you felt his arm being thrown over your shoulder as he pulled you against him. He waved an expensive bottle of champagne in your face as he walked down the hall with you.

“You may have switched up and hate me now-.”

“I’ve always hated you,” you deadpanned.

“…but you can’t deny that I know how to throw a party within a party,” he continued as if he hadn’t heard you. “Ned and I are having a little get together in the penthouse suite.”

He wasn’t wrong, and you sighed as you thought about how angry you’d been to be forced back home for the break instead of doing what you wanted to do. You could honestly use the distraction, at least for a little while until you had to be in your father’s presence again. You sighed again, and by the grin on Peter’s lips, you knew that he knew that he had you.

“Fine. Lead the way,” you said with a flourish.

His grin widened, and he pulled you closer as he took you to the elevator. You leaned against the mirrored wall once inside, staring at your reflection with a frown.

“You shouldn’t frown so much,” he said, pressing the button. “It’ll give you premature wrinkles.”

“Why are you so concerned with how I age?”

He unbuttoned his suit jacket, approaching you as he swung the bottle of champagne in his hand.

“I want you to age as gracefully as me when we get married,” he teased, pressing his free hand onto the wall beside your head.

You laughed, shaking your head.

“I’d never marry you, and you… Well, you’d never get married,” you said with a shrug, shaking your head.

His grin dimmed a bit as his eyes met yours.

“I’d marry you,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes, head leaning back against the wall as he moved closer, pressing his forearm to the wall, face suddenly serious as he eyed you. It was his turn to sigh now, the sound heavy and drawn out.

“When…are you and I finally going to get together?” he slowly asked, voice low in the quiet elevator.

Your eyes widened just a tad, nose brushing his as he leaned in. Peter hadn’t asked you that for some time now. It was a recurring question of his that you always brushed off, and even though this time was no different, something in his voice made you blink. There was a yearning that had never been there before. Something new lingering in his eyes.

You laid your hand on his chest, pushing him away, and he let you.

“Seriously, Peter? You know the answer to that question,” you said.

He huffed, his grin returning as he shook your rejection off.

“You know I always have to ask…just in case you change your mind,” he replied, quickly scanning your frame.

The elevator dinged, and the doors parted behind him, the low hum of a small party reaching your ears.

“I’m never going to change my mind.”

Without a second glance, you brushed past him to exit the elevator.

“You need to start getting serious about your future, Y/N.”

You stared out of the tinted window, watching the city fly by as your father’s car weaved in and out of traffic. He was giving you yet another lecture on what he thought you should be doing with your future. After all, it wasn’t like you had already decided on a major and knew exactly what you wanted to do with your life, so you could understand his- oh. Wait… You had!

“Dad,” you sighed. “We’ve talked about this.”

“Humanities isn’t a real major,” he argued for the umpteenth time, tone laced with contempt.

You cut in before he could continue.

“First of all, it is. Second of all, it’s my minor-.”

“Oh, of course. How silly of me to forget that- what is it? International relations? That’s the major, right?”

You crossed your arms over your chest, shaking your head.

“You know, I’ll never understand you kids. So fickle with your goals-.”

“Dad, I’ve had the same plan since before I even went to college. You can’t call it fickle just because at 17 I told you I didn’t want to follow in your footsteps. I’ve known what I wanted since then. Its literally the opposite of fickle,” you huffed.

You heard him sigh.

“I don’t understand what happened here, Y/N. I really don’t. Ever since you were little, you wanted to follow in my footsteps-.”

“…and now I don’t. Things happen,” you told him. “I don’t want anything to do with this lifestyle.”

You’d told him this a hundred times. You were so tired of having the same discussion, and you knew that he was too.

“Why can’t you be more like Peter?”

You frowned, finally looking over at him. This was a new tactic. The older man had his eyes focused on the paper as he continued to speak.

“He’s following behind Tony swimmingly, a real successor in the making,” he praised.

You fought the urge to groan and sink down in your seat like a child. Never in your wildest dreams did you think your father would be comparing you to Peter Stark of all people.

“You’re comparing me to Peter now?” you scoffed.

The paper ruffled as he turned it, humming.

“I’m just noting that the two of you came up together, but you somehow deviated so far off track.”

“Well, since you love Peter so much, just pass the company onto him when the time comes. God knows he’ll appreciate it way more than I will,” you grumbled.

Your father hummed at that.

“I actually have hopes that, in some way, the company will be his one day,” he replied.

Your brows furrowed, confusion filling you as you fought to understand what he meant. Your father’s eyes finally met yours, a serious look on his face.

“Peter’s exactly the kind of man you should be considering when you finally get ready to get married.”

Shock poured over you like a bucket of ice water, his words having been the last thing you expected to hear. Marriage? Peter? You blinked a few times, fighting to clear your head enough to articulate what you were thinking.

“You…you can’t be serious…?”

He fixed you with a stern look.

“As a heart attack. What is there to oppose? Peter is young and handsome and well brought up. He’ll be taking over after Tony one day, and you really can’t do much better than that. Unless you’re aiming to be the next Meghan Markle, but no offense sweetheart, you don’t strike me as the type,” he elaborated.

You pressed your hand to your forehead as your mind spun.

“I’m not telling you to marry him or anything. I’d never go so far to participate in something as archaic as an arranged marriage. I’m just telling you to consider it. He’s a good match for you, and I’d like you to be open to it…”

You couldn’t begin to believe how sharply this morning had turned.

“It’s why you’ll be seeing a lot more of him over the break. Just keep it in mind when we meet with them,” he said.

He must have noted the confusion on your face because he continued.

“We’re meeting them for brunch. Tony wants to run his latest idea by me, and we figured it would give you and Peter more time to catch up,” he explained.

The car had finally stopped just as he finished, and you didn’t have time to process anything before you were being ushered out of the car. The brisk air whipped around you as you followed your father into the fancy restaurant.

Your father wanted you to marry Peter? The idea was so absurd that you actually considered the possibility that your father was playing a joke on you. You felt like you were having an out of body experience as you and your father sat down, you across from Peter. As always, he looked absolutely tickled to see you, while you simply returned his grin with a withering stare.

Brunch was a taxing affair. Tony Stark greeted you as politely as he always did before he and your father got right down to business. That left you and Peter with no one but each other to look at. You did your best to ignore the annoying brunette sitting across from you, barely speaking with him no matter how many times he tried to engage you in conversation.

You supposed that your behavior towards Peter was a bit unfair. After all, it wasn’t his fault that your father wanted you to marry him. Although, as you thought back to your conversation in the elevator the other day, you had to wonder if he knew, or at the very least, had some idea. And that was exactly what you asked him once you were alone.

Your father and Tony had gone back to Tony’s office in a hurry to remedy some oversight that had been missed. You’d been left with your father’s car and driver, and you eyed Peter, waiting for his answer, as you made your way outside.

“Not really, no.”

You slid into the backseat, thanking the driver before scooting as far away from Peter as possible as he joined you.

“Not really or no? Those are two different answers,” you told him.

A smirk danced along his lips as he leaned his head back, turning it ever so slightly to gaze at you out of the corner of his eye.

“I had an idea. The great Mr. Y/L/N never came outright and said it, but little things he’d say here and there started to add up,” he explained with a chuckle.

He apparently found this funny while you did not. You crossed your arms over your chest, anger bubbling within you at the thought of your father playing matchmaker behind your back. Peter reached for your hand, attempting to pull it away from your chest, but you jerked it away as soon as his fingers brushed yours. He sucked his teeth.

“Come on. Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You turned to fully face him, not a hint of humor on your face.

“Yes,” you answered, voice steady with conviction.

He simply rolled his eyes, lips twitching, and you shook your head with a scoff.

“Is your father in on this too? God, I bet Tony Stark is just eating this up,” you complained.

The tone of Peter’s chuckle gave you pause, and you eyed him as he grinned at you.

“Quite the opposite actually…”

You frowned, and God help you, because you found yourself…offended.

“He thinks I’m not good enough for you or something?” you questioned, raising an eyebrow at him.

You didn’t want to marry Peter, but you knew that you were more than good enough for a guy like him. The truth was that Peter wasn’t good enough for you. He shook his head, picking at a piece of lint on your shoulder as he hummed.

“No actually. In fact, he’d dare say that you are out of my league, and I’d be forced to agree,” he told you with a shrug. “He thinks you’re too much of a ‘wild card’.”

Now it was your turn to chuckle, nodding as you understood what that meant.

“I see. So he wants you to marry a meek and submissive little thing who will do everything you say and conform to the Stark image. Got it,” you replied with a smirk.

He returned it, finger trailing along your collarbone now as he eyed you.

“He thinks that you march to the beat of your own drum…and you do…,” he said, smirk growing as his gaze met yours. “…but I think I can handle you just fine.”

You slapped his hand away, disgust filling you just as the car stopped.

“We’re at your place. Get out,” you sneered, looking away from him.

“Care to join me? No one’s home…we’ll have the whole place to ourselves…”

You opted for ignoring him and the way his voice lowered, the hidden meaning in his question loud and clear. When some time passed, he finally sighed, and you heard the car door open. When it didn’t close, you turned to see Peter standing outside, one hand pressed onto the top of the car door while the other rested on the hood of the car as he leaned down.

A dark strand fell out of place and brushed along his forehead, dark eyes somehow darker as he trailed them over your tense form. His smirk slowly fell, and you blinked at the less than humorous expression on his face. You could count the number of times on one hand that you’d seen Peter so serious.

“You really shouldn’t try so hard to show your dislike for me…”

You frowned at him, and the corner of his mouth curved upwards just a tad.

“…someone might think you’re playing hard to get.”

Before you could process that, he’d closed the door. He didn’t go inside right away, instead opting for standing on the curb to watch your father’s car drive away.

When your father said that you’d be seeing a lot more of Peter over the break, you underestimated just how determined the old man was to get you and the Stark heir together. Every innocent gathering turned into a run-in with Tony and his wife, Pepper, and Peter. Whether it was brunch or dinner or a shopping trip. Hell, even an innocent day at the park had you coming face to face with who you now liked to refer to as ‘the pain in your ass’.

Had you known that this is what your winter break would entail, you would have fought tooth and nail with your father on it. You felt like this was such a waste of time, one big joke that you’d walked into and you were the punchline. You had no idea how much worse it could get.

You were currently in the hallway of the home that belonged to none other than the Starks. You were killing time by fleetingly looking at the artwork that was hung up on the dark walls, a half empty glass of some brown liquor in your hand. You could hear the voices of Tony, Pepper, and your father drifting to you from the lounge, and you rolled your eyes.

When your father had told you that you’d be joining them for dinner, you thought it’d be in their apartment in the city. Some place that you could easily escape if need be. You never would have agreed if you’d known you’d be in upstate New York hours later, conversing with them in one of their many secluded vacation houses. Dinner was long over, and you had no desire to be privy to anymore of their business talk. Peter had scurried off to only God knows where, and you couldn’t be bothered to care.

Perhaps you should have.

Your mood soured even further as you felt an arm slide over your shoulders to curl around your neck, pulling you back into a firm chest. Peter hummed, and you sighed. The story of your lives.

“Pretty, isn’t it?” he wondered, gesturing to the painting. “I picked it out. I thought it would brighten the place up a bit.”

You threw his arm off of you, and he chuckled.

“Don’t look so glum, Y/N. The grownups are knee deep into stock market talk, which means they won’t even think about us for another hour at the least…”

You looked to the ceiling as he slipped an arm around your waist, praying for some higher power to strike you down. Or him. You’d be happy either way.

“Surely we can find some way to keep ourselves occupied,” he murmured.

You turned to face him and turned your head again just in time for his lips to brush the skin of your cheek. You pushed yourself away from him with a frown, backing up until your back rested against the opposite wall.

“Whatever happened to MJ?” you suddenly asked him, a faint smile on your lips as you took a sip of your drink.

Peter smirked, leaning against the other wall as he stared you down, raising an eyebrow at you, dark suit hugging him nicely.

“Keeping tabs on me?”

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you? Hardly,” you snorted. “My father likes to bring up you and your personal life every chance he gets. Of course, now I know why. I was shocked to find out that you had a girl in your life who stuck around for more than two months.”

“She was too much like you,” he dismissively said. “She wanted to travel and see the world and make a difference. There’s only room for one girl like that in my life. Anything more, and things would start to get a little…dull.”

You hummed, pushing away from the wall to walk past him. Peter followed, and your mind spun.

“What exactly are you going to do when I finally meet a nice guy to get serious with? Surely, this behavior can’t go on forever, Peter,” you wondered.

He grabbed your elbow and gently pushed you into the wall. His other hand was beside your head, dark eyes narrowed and inquiring. You sharply inhaled, unintentionally breathing in the scent of him, and you blinked.

“What nice guy could you possibly meet at that sad excuse of a school you call-?”

“I don’t know how to break it to you that an Ivy League education isn’t exactly the picture of intelligence you think it is,” you sneered at him.

His own face grew taut as he glared at you, tilting his head to the side.

“Is that why you turned down your acceptance to Princeton? To prove some silly point?”

“For your information, Peter, I turned down my acceptance because I learned that the main reason I got in was because of my father.”

“So what? What is the point of our parents working their asses off for years if not to give us the opportunities they didn’t have growing up? When are you going to drop this holier-than-thou wannabe Mother Teresa act?”

“It’s not an act,” you spat, shoving him away from you. “This world? This way of life and everything that comes with it? I hate it. I despise everything about it. Its sickening that we live like we do while people down the street struggle to keep a roof over their heads. What is it to you, anyway?”

Peter ran his hand through his hair, huffing as he stared you down.

“You and me?” he started, gesturing between the two of you, his other hand on his hip. “We could’ve been unstoppable together. We were supposed to go to Princeton together. We were supposed to leave our mark on that campus together, create a legacy, and make a name for ourselves on our own, and instead I’m doing that by myself while you go off galivanting down south-.”

“Is that what this is about?” you demanded, incredulity filling your voice. “…some fantasy in your mind that we’d be some power couple who’d go on to take over after our fathers and rule the upper east side? Seriously? That’s a new one, even for you.”

Peter’s jaw clenched as he glared at you, nostrils flaring as he ran his eyes over you with the nastiest look you’d ever seen on his boyish face.

“You can run all you like…reinvent yourself all you want…”

His voice lowered as he approached you, and you stood your ground, glowering at him.

“…but you will never escape this life,” he threw at you, and you flinched at his harsh tone.

“That may be true…but I can still try,” you whispered.

The corner of his lips lifted into a mocking smirk.

“Try all you want. Hell, jump into a relationship with the next guy you have some anthropology project with for all I care. We both know that the only guy to give you the life you deserve…to give you what you need…”

He reached to fix a stray hair that had come out of place, smirk smug and eyes smugger.

“…is a guy like me.”

You stumbled away from him with a frown, arms folded over your chest.

“Screw you, Peter.”

You turned away from him to go find your father.

Peter had always been an annoying thorn in your side, but his behavior tonight had reached new heights. It amazed you, really, how far he was willing to go just to finally get you into bed. He had never had any problem being an asshole, but there was a shift in him tonight. His tone was harsher, words meaner, eyes just a tad bit icier than normal. In fact, it almost seemed like it wasn’t his usual cruel teasing.

When you finally neared the lounge, you frowned at the words that reached you.

“She’ll probably be a bit bitter about it at first, but I’m sure Y/N will grow to love it. This will be an amazing opportunity for her.”

You recognized your father’s voice, and you slowed just before finally entering, listening in.

“I was surprised to hear that she’s transferring, which is why I had never initially considered her for the internship. I was under the impression that she wouldn’t be here to do it.”

Your frown deepened at Tony Stark’s words, a sinking feeling in your gut, and although you wanted to hear more, something in you prevented you from staying still and doing so. You stepped into the lounge, greeting them all with a smile before resting your gaze on your father.

“I hate to cut the evening short, but I’m feeling a bit ill,” you lied.

Perhaps it wasn’t a complete lie. Peter’s harsh words didn’t exactly leave you feeling the best, but your father believed you anyway. The two of you said your goodbyes to the Starks, even Peter who had slithered his way into the foyer eventually. He’d sent you off with that stupid smirk on his face, and it took everything in you to resist the urge to roll your eyes.

The ride home was quiet. Your mind was too stuck on the snippet of conversation that you’d heard. You knew that it was about you, that much you had heard, but the talk about internships and transferring had you confused. Again, there was that sinking feeling in your gut, and it wouldn’t go away. You wanted to bring it up to your father, but he’d spent the entire next day in the office.

Your paranoia got the best of you though, and the next evening, you found yourself in his study, mind going a mile a minute as you poured over the papers you found. Shock coursed through you at every reveal, hands shaking and heart sinking in disbelief. That was how your father found you that night, perched in his desk chair, tearful eyes glaring up at him as he walked through the door. He sighed as soon as his eyes landed on the papers scattered all over his desk.

“Tell me this isn’t true,” you quietly pleaded.

You knew that it had to be, but you needed to hear him say it.

“You’ll be going to Princeton for your senior year. All of the paper work has been done and whatever needs to be transferred has been transferred,” he breathed, stepping into the room.

You shook your head in disbelief, tears spilling over. You were shocked to find yourself…shocked. You knew that your father didn’t approve of your new lifestyle and your plans for your future. You knew that it ran deep, and yet it had never occurred to you that he’d do something about it. You had foolishly thought that he’d let you make your own decisions.

This was the main reason you hated this world you were born into. The things that people could buy, could do, if they had enough money to do so scared you. It shouldn’t be allowed.

“…and the internship?”

You didn’t even care that you had revealed yourself to be eavesdropping last night. Your father stepped further into his study.

“You’ll be interning with Stark Industries immediately after graduation…”

You were out of his chair and stomping out of his office before he could even finish. He didn’t even call for you to come back, and why would he? His word was law. You both knew that this was going to happen, and you couldn’t do a damn thing about it.

The night air was cold, and you wished you’d grabbed a thicker coat before stepping outside. After all, the only thing you had on underneath was a flimsy dress. You’d had plans to meet up with some old friends from high school tonight after your talk with your father, but you had never imagined that the talk would reveal this.

A lot of people were out in the city. It was a Friday night, after all. There was some light snow falling, but you could hardly even see it because the tears had finally spilled over. You couldn’t remember a time where you were so angry that you’d cried. You were grateful to be in New York of all places, right now, because a girl crying on the sidewalk was the most normal thing someone would probably see.

You crossed the street to a less crowded sidewalk, still trying to wrap your head around what your father had done, when a sleek black limo slowed beside you. You wouldn’t have thought anything of it had the window not rolled down to reveal none other than Peter.

“Are you drunk?” was the first thing he asked you.

Fed up with this night and having no patience for Peter Stark and all of his glory, you sneered at him.

“No,” you snapped.

You huffed when the limo rolled slowly along the street in time with your steps. Peter called to you, but you ignored him. What was he even doing out, right now? It was a Friday night. Shouldn’t he be at someone’s party participating in at least 2 illegal activities?

You sped up when you heard his door slam shut, but you weren’t quick enough. His firm hands grabbed you and turned you to face him, shaking you just a little as he ran his eyes over you, gaze lingering on your tearful one.

“Hey…”

“Go away, Peter,” you said, fighting to get out of his grip.

His hold tightened, and he stepped closer.

“It’s late. Why are you out here on the street like this? What happened?”

You snatched one arm out of his hold and shoved yourself away from him.

“Did you know?”

His brows furrowed, frowning slightly at your question. His cheeks were red from the cold, giving him a cherubic aura that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

“Don’t play dumb with me, Stark. Did you know that my father was getting me transferred to Princeton behind my back? That I’m supposed to be interning with your father as soon as I graduate?”

You registered the shock on his face, and he slowly shook his head, thrown by what you’d told him.

“No,” he softly said.

You crossed your arms over your chest, more tears falling.

“If I had known…I would’ve told you, Y/N.”

“Would you?” you scoffed.

His face hardened at your insinuation, and he shoved his hands into his pockets.

“Yeah, I would have. Look, I may hate this 180 that you’ve done with your life just as much as your father, but even I know that you’re going to do what you want anyway. You always have.”

He whispered the last part, and your gaze reluctantly met his. He pursed his lips, running his eyes over you as he reached for you.

“Where are you headed?” he wondered.

It hit you that you hadn’t really had a destination in mind. Your eyes widened, and you were sure that the panic and confusion was written all over your face. You shrugged, a few tears escaping.

“I…I don’t know,” you pathetically answered.

Peter softly sighed, pulling you towards the limo.

“Well, I was on my way to a party-.”

He cut himself off as you started to shake your head. You didn’t know where you wanted to go, but you knew that a party was not it. He pulled on your jacket, and you stumbled towards him in your heels.

“Hey,” he softly said when your eyes started to stray, and you looked at him. “I’ve got a couple of bottles of champagne in the limo, a full tank of gas, and a driver who’s getting paid by the minute. I’ll take you wherever you wanna go.”

You glanced away, thinking it over. You couldn’t stomach the thought of being near your father right now, and although Peter had shaken you last night, in the end, it was just him being his usual self. Your uneasiness from his words last night you wrote off to sensitivity and overthinking. You suddenly let out a humorless chuckle.

“You promise to get me really, really drunk?” you teased.

You were joking, but you honestly didn’t want to even remember your conversation with your father right now. That familiar smirk of his graced his lips as he threw an arm over your shoulder, guiding you towards the car.

“I promise to get you anything you want,” he purred.

The inside was warm, and you had almost forgotten how roomy limos could be. The L-shaped seating could easily fit 4 more people. True to Peter’s words, there was indeed two bottles of champagne on ice, and he reached for one as soon as the vehicle continued down the dark street.

You leaned your head against the window as he popped it open, getting you a glass. You felt defeated, and you were sure your face showed it as you took the offered drink from him.

“So what are you gonna do?”

You shook your head at Peter’s question.

“What can I do, Peter?” you quietly wondered with a shrug. “I mean… If my father is willing to go this far to get me where he wants me to be…? What’s stopping him from doing so again and again and again?”

Peter leaned back in his seat, eyeing you as you sipped on the bubbly alcohol.

“I’ll never be free of him,” you said, more to yourself than Peter. “God, he really is going to get everything he wants. Looks like I’ll be seeing you in 3 years at our engagement party, after all.”

Peter slid along the seat to get closer to you, rolling his eyes.

“Come on,” he dragged out. “Would marrying me really be so bad?”

You almost choked on your drink, and you incredulously eyed him.

“We’ve been over this before, and the answer is yes. That’s if we can even get you to walk down the aisle.”

Peter sighed, sitting his drink down.

“I would marry you,” he argued, looking at you.

“Come on, Peter. You’re just saying that!”

You took another sip, thankful for the liquid courage.

“It’s all a game to you. It always has been. The minute you finally get with me, it’ll be over. Hell…,” you said, thinking. “…maybe I should sleep with you so you’ll finally leave me alone.”

Peter laughed, resting his arm behind you on the back of the seat.

“If I had you, I’d never leave you alone,” he replied, voice soft.

“Yeah,” you barked a laugh. “Okay…”

“I’m serious,” he said, tone matching his words, and you fought to hold his intense gaze. “When are we finally going to get together?”

You glanced away.

“You’ve asked me this probably a hundred times, and the answer is always the same,” you murmured.

“When are we finally going to stop playing this game?”

Your eyes met his again, brows furrowed.

“I wasn’t aware that we were playing a game-.”

“I want you,” he whispered so quietly that you weren’t sure you heard him right. “You know that, Y/N. I’ve always wanted you.”

There was a frown on his face, and you swallowed.

“You want everyone,” you quietly replied, suddenly feeling very odd.

You scooted away from him just a tad, but he followed.

“When I have you, Y/N, I won’t treat you like those other girls,” he told you.

“Ha! How reassuring,” you sarcastically replied.

His hand rested on your arm, and you squirmed, head feeling a bit light.

“I’m serious,” he murmured, hand trailing upwards to brush along your shoulder before resting on your neck. “You’re my best girl…”

You blinked at him with a frown, and he tilted his head at you, pulling his bottom lip between his teeth.

“Why would I treat my best girl like the rest?”

You shook your head, moving away from him some more.

“Maybe…maybe I should just go home after all. I’m not feeling so good, right now,” you told him, alarmed at how slurred your words were.

You watched as Peter reached to take another sip of his drink.

“Yeah,” he calmly said, taking your drink from your trembling fingers and setting it aside. “That would probably be the Rohypnol.”

You slowly blinked at him, trying to clear the fuzz from your head as you processed his words. Did he just say…Rohypnol? As in…?

“Roofie is the common term, also known as the date-rape drug.”

Your mouth felt dry, and you felt like you weren’t sliding away from him fast enough.

“Peter, this…this is a joke, right? You’re kidding…?”

He snorted, and even without his confirmation, you knew that he wasn’t kidding. Your head had been spinning for minutes now.

“Come on, Y/N. When have you ever known me to be a huge comedian?”

You fell against the door as you tried the handle, but it was locked, and that was when you really started to panic.

“Y/N.”

You ignored Peter as he called your name, opting instead for hitting against the partition. You heard Peter heave a sigh from behind you before his arm slipped around your waist, pulling you back. Your movements were sluggish and futile, but you fought against him anyway. He pulled you down onto his lap as he leaned back into the seat.

“Peter…”

Your words died in your throat as his hands clasped around the back of your neck, pulling you down until his lips met yours. The kiss was hungry, Peter a man starved as he moaned into your mouth. He was panting when he pulled away, chest heaving before he kissed you again.

Your hands were pressed against his chest, trying in vain to push yourself away from him. You gasped against his lips, heart stuttering when he flipped you, your frame now between his and the seat. He settled against you easily, fitting perfectly in between your legs as his fingers danced over you.

The buttons of your coat flew as he yanked it open, and you shivered. Peter paid no mind, running his hands over your exposed skin before sliding them under your dress. You felt like you were barely hanging onto consciousness, not even realizing when Peter had started to drag your underwear down your legs until they were already to your ankles.

You feebly kicked against him, but he simply grabbed your legs, spreading them to settle in between them once more. You could feel him hot and hard through his pants, and more tears kissed your eyes. How on earth had you missed this? You cursed yourself for not taking his behavior more seriously. For not listening to yourself last night.

Confident that you could not fight him off, one of his hands worked between your legs while the other worked to release himself. He was right to be confident, because no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your arms to work right. You felt like you were underwater, weighed down by sand.

“Peter,” you quietly pleaded again, and he shushed you.

You squirmed beneath him as he pushed his fingers in and out of you, hating how easy it was because of how wet you were. He pressed his mouth against yours, forcing his tongue past your lips, and you trembled as you felt him line himself up with your entrance.

A high-pitched yelp left you as he filled you with one thrust. The moan that climbed out of his throat was low and long, and he cursed as you clenched around him. Your hand pressed against the back of the seat as he pulled back before snapping his hips into you again.

“You feel so good,” he groaned into your mouth.

One arm locked around your waist as he pulled you both into a sitting position, his throbbing cock still inside of you as he held you onto his lap. You pushed against him, but your arms buckled when he lifted his hips up into you.

You whimpered, falling against him, and both of his hands fell to grip your waist, tightly holding you as he fucked you. Your body couldn’t support itself, and you sagged against him, forehead pressing against his as your eyelashes fluttered. Your jacket was barely hanging onto you, and with one hand, he pulled it all the way off. He gripped the bottom of your sequined dress before bunching it around your hips.

You tried to push yourself up, push yourself off of him, but not only was his hold firm, your body was too under the influence of the drug he’d given you. You pathetically whimpered as you fell against him again, a sob caught in your chest. He pressed a sloppy kiss to your neck, the strap of your dress falling, and you shuddered.

He pulled you into another kiss, the taste of your salty tears seeping into your mouth. Your head was light, mind spinning with the pleasure being forced onto you. You pressed your hand against the seat, attempting to push yourself away again when Peter spun you both, your back connecting with the seat as he laid you down, his clothed hips slapping against yours. He moaned into your mouth as you fluttered around him, and with a start, you realized that despite your unwillingness, an orgasm was creeping up on you.

Both of his hands rested on your cheeks as he kissed you again and again. His dark hair was falling into his forehead, sweat coating the strands, and your skin fared no better. You squeezed your eyes shut as you felt your stomach clenching, shamed and disgust coursing through you.

“Look at me,” Peter quietly demanded.

You shook your head but yelped when one of his hands reached to pinch your nipple through your dress. You peeled your eyes open, tears blurring your vision, but your gaze met his all the same.

“That’s my girl,” he murmured just as you clenched around him with a choked moan.

Your climax triggered his own, and he pushed into you a few more times before falling against you with a groan. You were both sweating and panting, and you felt the flames of sleep licking at the corners of your vision.

There was so much that you wanted to say to Peter, to scream at him, but you couldn’t form the words. You could only lay there as he kissed you again before pulling out of you, leaning back against the seat as he fixed himself. Sleep was just in your grasp, but you were scared to close your eyes. Scared of the man you thought you knew.

He spread his arm over the back of the seat, the other pulling your dress down, that annoying playful smirk dancing along his lips.

“I think a winter wedding would look absolutely beautiful.”

~

tags: @bamposworld @mcudarklibrary @darkficreposter @xoxabs88xox @buckybarnesplumwhore @harryspet @coconutqueen21 @opheliadawnwalker3 @nickyl316h @captainchrisstan @sebabestianstan101 @villanellevi​ @lokislastlove​ @notyourtypicalrose​ @hurricanerin​

#dark peter parker #Dark!Peter #dark fic #dark!peter x reader #dark!peter parker #peter parker x reader #peter parker

[binniesthighs]

call me babydoll | reader x chan

soooo shhhh this actually a part one shhhh but i’m just trying out writing out different things and getting out some of my ideas outta my head that i’m really excited about, this one being one of them!! for now...just pretend that this is just a regular ol’ drabble hehehehe. this part is the set-up chapter (shhh i mean drabble) 

One

Pairing: self insert, female reader x bang chan 

Genre: fluff, smut, and angst 

Tags: (overall) bodyguard au, moderndayprince!chan, bodyguard!reader, secret agent au, royal au, action and peril, plot driven, running out of time, slow-ish burn, growing feelings, softswitch!chan, hardswitch!reader, some skz side characters, jeongin third wheel and comedic relief LOL, travelling, chan being expensive and having a lil bit of a superiority complex, flirtyyyy chan, bits of mystery, explicit language, mentions of food and alcohol, idk think like 007 vibes hehe 

CWs: guns and gun violence, a shooting in a ballroom, mentions of blood 

Word count: 4.6k 

Parts

ONE | TWO 

“I wasn’t expecting to see you here early.” 

“Well, expect the unexpected.” 

“Don’t turn the motto back at me. I’m sick of hearing it so many damn times.” 

“What? You and I both know that it’s true. You’re here early too, so, technically you don’t get to say anything.” 

Jeongin straightened his bow tie, then patted down the sides of his perfectly ironed tux with not a crinkle to be found. Knowing him, it was a miracle that he hadn’t messed it up in some form yet. He promptly took out his pocket square to clean off his glasses. 

“You’re looking nice. Seems like they don’t mind spending money now on you these days.” He blew off the flecks of dust on his lenses. 

“They know that they get their return on their investment. And thank you.” 

You smoothed down the sides of your dusty pink dress that nearly went all the way down to your ankles. Had you any other choice, it would’ve been something different, but, dresses were really good at hiding your thigh holster compared to the slacks you usually favored. You didn’t mind the times that you would have to put on a pretty dress, it somewhat reminded you that there was normal life outside of your job. Not to mention, they had started sending you jewelry as well. You always had liked the look of a diamond necklace. 

“You do your research for tonight?” 

Jeongin nodded, then took from his pocket his phone to read over the details. 

“I’ve done a background check on everyone attending, we shouldn’t have any issues. It’s already a low risk event anyway. Charity is never something to get too worked up over, but, you never know with the detail that some of these people come with...who they might be tied to...” 

“--The only people we can trust is ourselves.” You nodded with arms crossed. 

“Expect the unexpected, I know.” He slid his phone back into his inside suit pocket to adjust his cufflinks. 

“--Nervous?” You took note of his fidgeting actions. 

“Nervous? No. I’ve been through this before. You know that.” 

You flicked your partner right on his forehead strung with his white hair. You had really wished that he had picked a less conspicuous color, but he had strings to pull that you didn’t. 

Jeongin cleared his throat, “You do your once over?” 

“Do you even need to ask? I did it hours ago and when we arrived. You know that I’ve done this before too.” 

“I know. I know.” 

Jeongin looked out at the vast circular atrium that made up the center of the hotel. Several stories down under the glass rooftop, you could hear the faint sprinkling of the intricate fountain which smelled of copper. A bit further down, you could see the tips of the tree branches from the indoor landscaping. Across the way, a door slammed with residents tucking in their ties. The two men you had recognized from the roster: a simple thing which made you feel at ease. Your young partner must’ve started to have an effect on you. A sense of unease seemed to quell in your neck. You always listened to your hunches. 

“W-what do you think he thinks of us?” Jeongin broke the silence. 

“Well,” From inside the room you had waited outside, you could hear his distant murmuring, so you lowered your tone. “I think that he has yet to trust us. It’s only been a few weeks. He doesn’t seem like the kind to give himself up easy. That, and I’m sure his resentment of his father must have some influence.” 

“You think he hates us?” 

“I think he hates his father for hiring us. I mean, wouldn’t you? His old security detail, he had them for years.” 

“I guess so. But, we’re not like his old detail.” 

“No. We’re not. I don’t think he gets that yet. I think he sees us as one more way his father has a hold on him.” 

“It’s not like he can do much else about it when his dad’s a kin--” 

“--No, no, thank you, really, it’s lovely. Some of your best work. Thank you.” 

Chan swung open the door to his room, stopping Jeongin right in his sentence. 

“Ah. You’re here already. That’s...punctual.” 

As dazzling and showy as ever, Chan looking nothing short of a magazine model. For a prince, he had certain...appearances that he had to maintain. Today, it was a velvety and maroon suit jacket with a white button up. On the collar, two matching brooches had been perfectly placed, and they were silver like moonlight in the shape of English ivy and adorned with diamonds. On his lapel, he wore the royal insignia of the lion and the wolf. Behind him, you could see his slew of stylists cleaning up their makeup kits and obscene assortment of designer dress shoes for him to pick from. You had thought before that he even smelled like royalty: stuffy white roses with a hint of priceless cognac. 

Jeongin bowed his head respectfully. “Everything has been prepared for tonight. The rest of your guards are surrounding the building, and I’ll be corresponding with them as needed, your Highness.” He tapped at his earpiece. 

Chan drew his attention over to you, giving you a rather lusty glare. Over the past couple weeks, you had gotten used to it. He was a prince to every extent of the word. If there was anything that he had wanted, he simply had to ask. It drove him insane that all he could do was merely look at you. You had  wondered if he harbored anything else for you besides the way that he would devour the curves of your shoulders and hips. 

“Fox. Bee. You look nice tonight. I like seeing you dressed up. Makes me feel less out of place.” 

You couldn’t help but let out a little sound of discontentment over his rather affectionate nickname for you. You and your partner had been introduced to him as F and B. Quickly he had figured out Jeongin’s codename as Fox, considering that he had done a poor job picking out one that wasn’t related to him at all. Anyone could tell that boy was fox-like, and he also just wasn’t that creative when it came to picking out a name for himself. B, or Bee as he had decided, was your name; as in bumblebee. After learning about Fox, he figured that there was an animal theme going, so Bee seemed to fit best in his oponion. 

You tested his glare with your best, “Thank you, your Highness.” 

Jeongin gulped. “Your assistant should be waiting downstairs with your itinerary. She told me that you should meet her first off.” 

“You work too hard F. Have some fun tonight, hm? But don’t...drink too much. You’re responsible for my life remember?” Chan clapped his bodyguard on the back. 

Your partner nervously laughed and adjusted his glasses once more: his preferred tic. 

“And Bee?” Chan rose a brow to lean into close and whisper. “Stay close, alright?” 

“Of course, your Highness.” 

Chan let out a little scoff after getting one more proper look at your frame. “Damn. You really are stunning. Just a little too dangerous for me though.” 

You rolled your eyes, dishing him outa, “Whatever you say, your Highness.” 

Jeongin threw you and annoyed glare before tracing after Chan as he sauntered down the hall to the glass elevator. 

“Bee? You coming? Or do you have something better to do?” Chan’s voice called down the hall with an echo and a little teasing gesture of his hand. 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

It had been seven years since you had chosen this line of work, and each time that you had to go to one of these things, you hated them more and more. Not because they were hard to control--they were easy--but you just hated how many superficial and self-absorbed people that they could fit into one room. 

The air was filled with the scent of champagne bubbles and too much Chanel No. 5. From corner to corner of the room, and even next to the ice sculpture of the lion and the wolf crest, silk, satin; velvet and the best cotton could be found. Long gloves covered the arms of ladies with wrinkling skin, and tweed vests held in the guts of men who indulged in their food just as much as their mistresses. All this effort just to appear as if they had given one care about the philanthropic efforts of the royalty.

Several neatly dressed waiters passed you with golden platters of hors d'oeuvres made of ingredients so expensive, they would’ve cost the same amount as the generous donations made by the attendees. If you could’ve, you would’ve scooped up as many of them as you could, just to eat all of their copious amounts of money yourself, but, there was somewhere a rule that you had to keep your hand to yourself when you were on duty. The best that you had to look forward too was take-out to eat at 3 in the morning with Jeongin later. 

Buzzing chatter filled your earpiece while each of the additional guards gave their hourly report. 

“Damn. It’s fucking colder out here than I thought. It’s fucking summer.” One of them joked to the tune of the other guards laughter. 

“Stay focused.” Jeongin scolded over the line. “Don’t leave your posts until your shifts change.” 

While he was a timid man, Jeongin was not one to mess around. Son of the director, he knew that he had big shoes to fill. After pleading for years for her to admit him into the academy, she had agreed. Everyone knew the reason why she didn’t want him in this line of work. Too many dead. Too many missing. In some ways, he was also yours to look after. 

You trailed after Chan who was busy talking to his assistant and his publicist. While he nodded at their words, you knew that he must’ve been barely listening. Chan never really was one for formality, but much rather enjoyed simplicity and pleasure. Jeongin and you had somewhat of a bet going: out of all the guests, you had liked to bet which one he would take with him to his bedroom. Since you had all the profiles of the guests, you liked to bet a little money on which one it would be. 

Jeongin had guessed it to be the heiress and daughter of a tycoon who had made a multi-million won donation in the name of his company. It was ironic; his very company was a big-scale pollutor who liked to make nice with the crown. She was conventionally very pretty: long legs, a thin frame, she was educated and looked as if she could hold somewhat of a conversation...not like that mattered to him. 

You had predicted it to be the foreign CEO who had just started business dealings with the crown. While she might’ve looked a bit stuck-up and prim, she was intimidating, and a challenge. Chan loved challenges. Chan also had a pension for pretty boys with a bit too much money on their hands--usually inherited--and with nothing much else to do other than dote on him. There were plenty of those attending the gala tonight. 

Chan snaked through the crowd, bowing his head at all of the Good evening, your Highnesses and the It’s a pleasure to meet you, your Highnesses. Every few moments or so he would take a bite from a golden plate and then pop it into his mouth. The whole night long, he would hold his glass with him and it would get refilled for him without him even needing to ask. You sometimes liked to pretend that in some places, they must’ve assigned someone to watch him from afar to make sure that he would never need anything before it was given to him. It wouldn’t have surprised you. 

“Having fun Bee?” Chan languidly rolled his head back, swirling his glass. 

“As much fun as you are.” You quipped. 

“Anything that I should be concerned about?” 

“Nothing of concern.” You stated matter-of-factly. Had you matched his flirting tone, you knew that you wouldn’t hear the end of it for the rest of the night. “Fox. Report?” 

“Nothing that I can see. No one has been tagging you.” Jeongin had staked himself up on the upper balcony of the banquet hall room, and had been watching for as long as you had been following after the prince. “You sensing anything strange?” His voice tickled in your in-ear. 

“Just a bunch of the normal crowd.” You kept your tone down low. “He’s rubbing noses with the usual. You’ve seen too?” 

He chuckled. “Yeah. I know what you mean.”

You followed Chan to his seat nearest the front of the room which had been fashioned into a stage with a clear glass podium in the center. Right in front there was one more crest decorating it. Chan had ensured it to be so: he had wanted everyone to know that this was all for his charity. 

“It seems like our bets aren’t working out. He hasn’t talked to either of the...suspects.” Your partner changed his choice of words knowing that the other guards were listening. 

From the opposite side of the room both the heiress and the CEO stood with thin glasses of wine in their lithe hands. Chan had in fact walked right past them, and didn’t even notice. 

“Tonight is going to be a long night.” Jeongin sighed over the line. 

You politely pushed past attendees with a raised hand and a sweet smile. You had found that when you smiled, you had appeared less intimidating. 

“Oh wait...what’s this?” 

“What?” You whipped your head around after Jeongin’s interjection. “What? Do you see something? What’s the call?” 

“Relax! It just looks like he’s approaching someone he wants to talk to. I think both of us are about to be proven wrong.” 

“Ah, shit.” You sighed. “Don’t put me on edge like that.” 

“I’m only trying to entertain myself.” 

“Name. Who is it? You’ve got the roster.” 

You partner was quiet for a minute, and you watched from a distance as Chan approached the man leaned over a martini seated at one of the perfectly decorated tables. 

“Uh, I think that he’s Lee Minho. Some kind of royalty from somewhere else. Pretty low ranking from the looks of it. I think that he made a donation himself...and it’s...damn, larger than you would expect.” 

“Should we be concerned?” 

“No. Seems harmless.” 

“Thank you for coming,” You made out the words that Chan had mouthed. He drew a chair next to the unknown man. 

From what you could tell, Lee Minho was handsome to the full extent of the word: nearly all of his physical features were exemplary and his suit appeared to have been fitted to perfect for him; likely one of a kind. He too wore an insignia on his lapel, but it was one that you hadn’t recognized before. He had immaculately styled hair that had some kind of rebellious and boyish charm to it. The man had a kind of mystery about him too: you had been able to pride yourself in being able to read people, and it had saved your life on more than one occasion. But with him, there was something that you couldn’t place. 

“Do they know eachother?” You asked Jeongin. 

“Not that I know of. School friend maybe? Seems like all the royals send their kids to the same schools.”

“Hm. That would make sense.” 

“Enjoying yourself?” Chan said. 

Lee Minho nodded, and rose his glass to clink it with the prince’s. 

“Do we think that he’s our...suspect?” 

The stranger dipped his head into his hand as he listened to Chan speak. A flirty gesture that you had seen a hundred times or more. Still, the way that he inspected Chan, it wasn’t adoring. Or at least, you didn’t think that it was.

“No. I don’t think so.” 

“What the hell are you yapping about?” One of the other guards snapped over the line. 

“Um, classified stuff.” Jeongin quickly explained. “Above your paygrade. Don’t worry about it.” 

“Fox. Watch out for him tonight.” You snuck over to a corner of the room where you could watch the two of them more discreetly. 

“Affirmative....” Your partner paused. “Babydoll.” 

“Pffff--Babydoll??” The same guard stifled his laughter. “You call her Babydoll, Fox? Damn, you all must be closer than I thought. Didn’t know that I was missing out on some of the action--” 

“--Ever heard of a codename, Three?” 

“Babydoll’s her codename.” 

A grin crept over your lips. “Expect the unexpected.” 

You had almost gotten distracted enough to miss how Lee Minho had leaned over to whisper something into the prince’s ear. After he had done so, Chan laughed out a little, then reached his arm around the other man’s chair comfortably. 

“They’re...cozy.” You updated your partner. 

“I’m trying to cross-check where he might know him from.” 

Chan’s assistant and publicist finally slipped away with giddy little smiles. In many ways, you were jealous of them. They could leave whenever the wanted, eat what they wanted...

Jeongin scoffed. “Well, turns out...nothing. I can’t find anything.” 

“Nothing?” 

“Negative. I’m not seeing any crossover.” 

“So they really are strangers?” 

Your partner sighed. “Looks like neither of us are cashing ou--I mean--finding the suspect.” 

Under your breath, you wondered aloud, “Who are you...Lee Minho?” 

━━━━━━━━━▲━━━━━━━━━

The night drew on longer with the rest of the formalities: the formal dinner, followed by several speeches from important people while dessert was being served. It all led up to the final act: His Royal Highness, Prince Chan’s speech. On several neat notecards marked with the crest, he held them in front of him while he ate his last bits of Mont Blanc Chocolate Pavlova. Even the name of the sweet itself sounded pretentious. Granted, it smelled delicious--as many expensive things did. 

You stifled a yawn from your little set up on the edge of the room. At least you should’ve been able to sit, but it turns out that sitting is also against the rules in this line of work. A couple other security and bodyguards had joined you at the edge: some of their heads nodded with sleep, and the others looked as if they had taken one too many energy shots. Luckily, your stamina had been well crafted. 

A fancily dressed MC made his way up to the podium and the room filled with applause after the last speaker had said all of their correct mandatory words. 

“It is my honor to introduce to the stage, our wonderful head benefactor of this organization, His Royal Highness, Prince Chan of the Crown. 

Applause tenfold of before erupted through the whole room and it wasn’t even an afterthought for the every attendee to stand up from their seats in an ovation. It was a force of habit for you, but you found yourself clapping as well. 

Chan rose with grace, and re-buttoned his jacket with finesse. A blinding spotlight found him and it made the diamonds adorning his beck wink brilliantly. Even more blinding was his pearl white, and perfectly trained smile accompanied by his wave. 

Thank you. Thank you. He mouthed. 

“It’s like he’s a frickin’ movie star.” Jeongin groaned. 

“Might as well be with the way that they treat him. You know deep down they’re all just terrified.” 

Chan made his way up to the stage in all of his regality, and the applause didn’t stop until he cleared his throat. A collective groaning of a couple hundred chairs squeaked when everyone sat back down. 

“Thank you everyone, really. I wanted to thank you all for your generous support in your donations to this organization, as well as your association with the crown. I’m sure that all the beneficiaries of your donations are beyond thankful compared to me. Without you, this would not be possible.” Chan spoke with grandiose gestures, as usual, but this time, he had found you on the side of the room. “Listen, aside from being a prince, I’m also just a person. A person who knows what it means to struggle, to--” 

“--I can’t listen to this anymore.” You whispered into the quiet room, and to your partner. 

“Just a few more hours.” He droned. “I almost wish that something would happen so that we don’t have to sit though much else of this.” 

“Be careful what you wish for.” 

In the corner of your eye, Lee Minho shifted in his seat, but still kept his undivided attention to the stage. You figured he must’ve been just like the rest of them: enamored by the flashiness of the crown--and Chan. He had a way of putting a spell on people: it was the kind of spell that a prince of deception had crafted after years of being kept under lock and key. 

“--Anyway, what I’m trying to say, royal or fanciful we all might be, in the simplest way, we’re all just people, therefore this is what connects us all. Thank you.” 

Chan was gifted yet another standing ovation that was somehow even more thunderous than before. 

“Yeah right.” You scoffed. “People born into money. There’s a difference.” 

Chan gave his last waves, then a clamor echoed from the back of the room. At first, it had just sounded like the same raucous laughter you had heard all night, but then it shifted to something different. The sound of laugher turned into shouting, then screams: high pitched and piercing. You had seconds to respond, head whipping around the room to catch sight of the confused prince. In your in-ears, the the sound of gunshots echoed with rapid-fire speed. Machine guns. Shouting commands barked in your ear, and muddled with Jeongin’s string of demands and questions. 

“WHAT THE HELL IS GOING ON OUT THERE? REPORT! REPORT!” 

Your heart instantly started beating into hyperdrive, and your legs sprinted as fast has physically possible 

“THEY’VE GOT GUNS!” A shrill and cracked voice of an older woman wailed from the back of the room. 

Immediately after she had said so, shots fired into the darkened room with sparks, and the metallic sound of bullets hitting the marbled ground followed. 

Chan looked around in his panic for you, petrified on the stage. You slung your gun out from your thigh holster and latched onto him with all of your might. 

“TH-THEY JUST CAME OUT OF NOWHERE IN THESE VANS. THEY’RE ARMOURED, WE CAN’T--” 

“Get the fuck down there and secure the exists!” Jeongin growled into his mic. “B--is the prince secure??” 

“Secure!” You yelled back. Using your body as a barrier, you led the cowering prince through the mass hysteria of the crowd. 

“Oh fuck. Oh fuck. Shit.” Chan shook under your iron grip. 

More shots fired into the room and bodies parted like the sea and fell over each other. 

From the balcony, you had caught Jeongin aiming his own gun at the chaos below. 

“I’ll cover you! Fuck! There’s so many of them! Get him to the car out back--Three, Six, meet B out there! Three!? Six!? Report!” 

“Three and Six are down F!” One of the guards panted. “I can provide cover out back!!” 

“Who’s speaking??” Jeongin bellowed, then aimed from above at one of the intruders. Your only focus was on weaving you and Chan out of there, but you had seen one of them in a blur. Each of the men with guns wore dark grey suits with black ties and leather gloves. Each of them wore their own crest: and it was all red. 

“Bee?? Bee???” Chan shouted out for you, and jumped every time the crack of a shot echoed in the ballroom. 

“I’ve got you, your Highness. We’ll be out soon. Keep your head down and listen to me.” Your arm held to him tightly, and you soon found the exit nearest. There was no telling if there would be more of them outside, but you loaded your gun quickly just in case, and pointed it out. 

“Jeongin, get your ass down here!” 

“Jeongin? Who the fuck is that??” Chan ducked down to hide himself behind your frame. 

His name had slipped on your tongue, but that hardly mattered. 

“I’ll be down in a second!!!” 

“Don’t fucking waste time up there when I need you down here!!” 

“Two! Two Reporting!!” A man suddenly yelled in your in-ear. “I’ve made it out back and I’ve secured the exit. The car is safe!!” 

“FOX! Now!” 

Your partner heaved, “I’m coming, I’m coming!!” 

You kicked open the exit door, gun’s still blazing, however one one else could be found on the other side. 

“Thank God,” You sighed. 

“Oh shit, I’m gonna be sick.” Chan had turned paler than white, then stumbled in your arms. 

“Hey, HEY!” You held him upright. “It’s gonna be alright. I’ve got you. You’re safe. You need to trust me. Your life is in my hands and I’m not giving it up easy, got it?” 

“O-okay.” He stammered, then attempted to straighten himself. 

“The Prince is outside, repeat, The Prince is outside. Two, are you in position?” 

“Yes. Yes, I am.” 

Other than the fact that you had just escaped absolute peril, the evening was unbearably pleasant. Crickets chirped in the summer evening, and the humidity of the night smelled gorgeously of the lake that was near-by as well as the vast array of flowers that had been purposefully landscaped around the hotel. Chan’s uneven steps scraped at the gravel walkway. 

Since you had canvassed the whole building well, you had known exactly where the getaway car was, but you were still careful. 

“Bee. Bee!” Chan blabbered. “Have-have I told you yet that I-I’m in love with you?” 

“No, you haven’t Your Highness.” 

“I fucking am. If I die tonight, I want you to know that I am ridiculously in love with you, and fuck, I wanna--” 

“--I’m sorry, Your Highness, respectfully, but now is not the time for this and you are not dying on my watch.” 

Somewhere off in the distance, frogs croaked, and the splashing of fish in the lake plopped at the surface waters. You turned a corner to finally see Two waiting his his gun raised. He was a bit of a shorter and scrawnier man, but something about him told you that where he lacked in strength, he must’ve made up for in agility. 

“I’m out! I’m out!” Your partner gasped, and over the in-ear you could hear his running footsteps. “I’m almost there! I’ll be there in a second!” 

“Your Highness,” Two bowed and opened the car door. “It’s a pleasure to finally meet you. You can call me Two or J. Either you prefer.” 

Jeongin came bounding around the corner with heaving breaths and his clothes askew. His glasses which just barely held onto his face had a crack on them and his knuckles were covered in blood. 

“Let’s go.” The younger man prompted. 

“In the car you go, Your Highness.” You motioned for him to do so. 

Chan whimpered like a toddler. 

You shoved his body in, “Stop that. Get in the car.” 

“I’m in love with you Bee!” He yelled out, “I’M FUCKING IN LOVE WITH YOU BEE!” 

Jeongin slammed the door in his face with a bit of a chuckle. 

“He’s delirious.” 

“Mm.” your partner smiled. “Sure.” 

#WHOOP #heheh here she is too hehe #stray kids smut #skz smut #stray kids fanfic #skz fanfic #bang chan smut #chan smut #bang chan fanfic #bang chan fanfiction #stray kids imagines #stray kids oneshots #stray kids drabbles #stray kids scenarios #bang chan x reader #bang chan x you #bang chan x y/n #bang chan x female reader #bang chan x female reader smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #kpop imagines #kpop drabbles #kpop oneshots #kpop scenarios

[mypoisonedvine]

Love, Theoretically | Sebastian Stan x reader (Chapter 1)

for @evnscvll​​‘s 3k celebration challenge, I immediately broke the rules and took only one prompt: Love, Actually.  then I made it into a series.  oops.  but she made me that lovely moodboard anyways!

summary: having lost your husband, sister, and best friend all to the same extramarital affair, you ran away to a secluded villa in the Hungarian countryside to write and get a little time away from the life you’d left behind.  you were only looking for peace and perhaps some inspiration for your novel, but instead you found an unlikely connection with the immigrant repairman-- even though the two of you don’t speak the same language.

word count: 2.3k

warnings: mention/description of infidelity, awkwardness, me teasing y’all by making this a slow burn

(quick note: I’m not fluent in romanian but I did my best to translate the dialogue as accurately as possible, rather than as literally as possible.  if you don’t speak it I would recommend not translating seb’s lines so you get the full experience of having no idea what he’s saying just like the reader in the story but I won’t tell you how to live your life)

You usually trusted your intuition, but up until now you'd convinced yourself that you were being paranoid by worrying about your husband.  Trusting him was more important than anything, and definitely more important than a strange feeling in your gut that something was wrong. 

The sad thing is, you would've never guessed that he was having an affair with your sister.  Not in a million years.  All the sneaking around, the strange stories that didn't add up… you would've put your money on a secret gambling addiction (pun unintended but welcome), or maybe that he'd secretly lost his job.

But even with all your suspicion, all your low self-esteem, all your fear that he was too good for you… nothing could've prepared you to walk in and see him with his face between your sister's legs.

He didn't even do that to you; he said he didn't like the taste.  You realized now, as you stared out the window of the train at the trees flying by, that that should've been a red flag from the start.  For a man who had claimed to be a feminist, things were never really equal in your house.  You both worked full time but you were saddled with more chores; you made more money than he did, but for some reason, you found yourself asking for his approval on large purchases; and of course, whenever you'd talked about children, he'd always just assumed you would stay at home forever and do most of the child-rearing.  He told you that you'd need to handle them when he was too tired from work-- but what about when you were tired from watching them all damn day while he was working?

God, you needed to stop thinking about this.  If you cried on this train people would probably look at you funny and you did not need that right now.  You couldn’t take any more reasons to believe people dislike you.  Even as much as you wanted to say that you didn't want or need your husband’s approval anymore, you still felt so shitty, so fundamentally worthless that he'd chosen your sister over you.  He hadn't wanted to touch you in months.  You wondered if it had been going on longer than that: when you'd blown him after that company party half a year ago, were you putting your mouth on something that had been in your sister's--?

"Something to drink, madam?" the attendant asked as she rolled by with her cart, pulling you from a very dangerous cycle of thought.

You jumped a little and looked over to her as she smiled at you-- no hint of judgment or confusion as you wiped a tear away.  In her shoes, you would be nosy and want to know more about the woman crying on the train.  Then again, maybe it was obvious to her: a woman, alone, who bought the last ticket just before the train left, carrying only a small briefcase and a few hastily-packed suitcases… a woman with nothing to lose, going nowhere as fast as possible.  Could it be anything but her having been done wrong by a man?

"Tea, please," you nodded with a smile of your own-- weaker than hers, more awkward.  You'd make a bad stewardess.

"Black or green?"

You didn't trust them to steep the green tea at the proper temperature, so you asked for black and nodded in thanks when she handed you the warm paper cup and rolled on by to the next passenger.

What really made your head spin, you considered as you sipped at your drink, was not your husband’s actions but your sister’s.  You remembered when you were both teenagers and her boyfriend had cheated on her, she’d gotten so upset with the girl he’d done it with rather than him.  You had thought that was ridiculous because the girl didn’t owe her anything.  You understood better now, and of course, your sister did owe you something.  You two had had your rough patches but overall, she’d been your best friend for most of your life.  So much so that she was the one you went to when you were worried about your husband.  She told you to give him space.  You would’ve never imagined that was her way to get you to back off, to cover her own sins and give her more freedom to shag your husband in your goddamn bed.

Yes, that was the real betrayal.  Lots of people have ex-husbands, but you couldn’t exactly turn her into an ex-sister.  You were stuck with her, but you had no plan as of yet to face her again.

The night in the sleeper car was restless, literally.  It was so dark out that you couldn’t see the trees or mountains anymore, but if you focused really hard and made sure to turn off every light in your room, you could just barely see the stars in the sky.  You hoped that you would have plenty of time to spend looking at the stars once you reached your destination.  As much as you’d loved the city lights of London for the past several years, you really needed to be somewhere that was actually dark at night.  And where the air was clean.  And, best of all, where nobody knew who the fuck you were.

You stepped out of the train and onto the platform, feeling very much like you were surrounded by people ending their stories-- reuniting with loved ones, finishing vacations-- while yours was just beginning.  Well, you supposed it made sense that most of the people travelling from London to Nyíregyháza, Hungary were probably from Nyíregyháza, Hungary.  Unlike you, who had only been here once while backpacking through the area in college and fallen in love with it.  You were lucky that the owner of the secluded cottage you’d crashed at back then had picked up the phone when you called from the train; you were especially lucky that she was willing to pick you up from the station, you not being quite dressed or prepared for backpacking.

Exiting the station and finding the cobblestone street, you were nearly tackled by a portly old woman as she tried to get your attention.

“Mrs. Alberti?!” you asked with wide eyes.

“You should at least pretend I haven’t aged a day,” she frowned, her words coated with her thick Hungarian accent.  

“I was just surprised that you’re still running the cottage!  I figured you and Mr. Alberti retired ages ago,” you explained, following her back to her car and putting your luggage in the boot.

She seemed a little crestfallen, wistfully considering your assumption.  “Well, it’s not quite what it used to be but yes, I am still the owner.  Sadly, Mr. Alberti passed away several years back.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry to hear that,” you replied, hoping to be as comforting as reasonably possible, “he was such a sweet man.”

“Yes, but he had a long illness-- and before that, lived a very full life,” she smiled confidently, walking to the driver’s seat as you followed along the other side and got in the passenger.

“It’s too bad he won’t get to see you again, though,” she continued as she started the vehicle.  Considering how old it looked, you were impressed that it worked on the first try.  “He would’ve been amazed to have a repeat customer from somewhere so far away.  I certainly am!”

“Yes, well, I have great memories from staying in the villa, and decided to go in search of some of the lust for life that I had back then-- chasing after youth never backfires, right?” you joked.

“I wouldn’t know,” she replied with a smirk.

You knew you were getting close to the old house when the roads turned from asphalt, to cobblestone, to gravel, and finally to dirt.  As much as you figured trees and grass looked basically the same everywhere, you appreciated that it somehow managed to look totally different than England.  Maybe it was the scattering of blue wildflowers, or the way the wilderness was dominating the few signs of human existence rather than the other way around.  Driving it was different than hiking it, certainly, and you wondered if you would find the time or energy to climb the foothills on the other side of the lake like you had before.  Maybe you didn’t want to find out how much athletic ability you’d lost since college…

“Here we are!” she announced as she made one last turn and yep, there it was: a lonely stone cottage, with flowers all along the walls and pink wooden shutters.  

You could tell it had aged since it had looked how you remembered, but if anything it had gained a quaint charm, with its moss and ivy and old trees which sagged under their own weight.  Figuring you would have more time to take in the scenery in the indefinite time you planned to spend here, you decided to make good time and gather your things first.

As you opened the boot and reached in to grab your luggage, someone appeared beside you and pushed your hands aside, saying something that you couldn’t parse at all.  You stepped aside and realized that it was a young man-- not horrifically young or anything, but certainly… strapping.  He shot you a smile, and you couldn’t think of the last time somebody had looked at you with so much joy on their face.

“Oh, thank you,” you nodded, letting him lift your suitcases (which he did with ease, just to make it all extra cruel).

“This is Sebastian-- he lives here and does odd jobs for me,” Mrs. Alberti informed you, "Don't waste your time talking to him; he doesn't speak a word of English."

"Oh, he only speaks Hungarian?"  You turned to him again; "Szia, hogy vagy?"

He shook his head and smiled awkwardly.

"No dear, he only speaks Romanian," Mrs. Alberti explained with a laugh.  "Can't you tell I can only afford to run this place by using cheap immigrant labour?"

"Salut," he greeted.  At least you could figure what that meant.  You chuckled uncomfortably and looked to the ground.  

You followed Sebastian and Mrs. Alberti into the house, admiring how little the interior decorations had changed-- it was all macrame and flowers in old-fashioned ceramic vases, with lots of oddball Hungarian trinkets to round it all out.  Perhaps the only thing you could notice that was different was new floorboards.

“You like the new floor?” Mrs. Alberti asked, as if she were reading your mind.  “Sebastian put that in for me.”

Sebastian seemed to perk up as he set your bags down briefly, clearly aware he was being talked about.  

“Remember?” Mrs. Alberti addressed him, motioning to the floor.  “You put in the new floor, huh?  Új emelet?”

You wondered why she’d seemed to laugh at you for trying to speak Hungarian to him, when she was doing the same thing.

“Da,” he smiled, pressing his shoe down onto the floor to apparently demonstrate the lack of creaking.  “Ți-am făcut un etaj nou.”

“Alright, go ahead and take her bags upstairs,” Mrs. Alberti instructed him, motioning to the luggage and then to the staircase.  He nodded and picked them up again, starting to walk across the room.  “He knows where your room is, just follow him,” she told you.  

The stairs, unlike the new floor, did creak, and you weren’t sure how far behind you were supposed to be on the staircase to avoid having his ass right at eye level.  You didn’t want to stare at it… but either the jeans were doing him a lot of favours, or Mrs. Alberti’s ‘odd jobs’ do a body good.  Maybe a little bit of both.

He used his back to push open the door to your room, setting your bags just inside before turning to leave again, like he thought it would be rude to step inside.

“Wait,” you requested, but he kept going-- probably the whole ‘not understanding English’ thing.  God, you were going to look so stupid at least a few more times trying to get through to this guy, you could sense it.  Forced to get his attention another way, you reached out and grabbed his arm; not hard, but it was definitely a slightly aggressive thing to do anyways.  It worked, though, and he turned around with an expectant look.  “Could you help me unload?” you asked, gesturing towards the bags.  

His brow knitted with confusion as he tilted his head.  You sighed, not sure exactly how to pantomime this.

“One of my bags,” you began, pointing to one of them, “is heavy--” a lifting motion-- “could you--” you pointed to him-- “unpack it?” 

That seemed to make more sense to him, and he stepped back into the room with you.  “Voi încerca,” he said, somewhat to himself, as you opened the suitcase.  Inside was your typewriter; he nodded with understanding and scooped it up.

“Unde?” he asked, and regardless of what it meant, you were going to show him where to put the typewriter anyways.  

“Just over there, the table by the window,” you pointed to it.  He nodded again and walked past you, setting it down, and even adjusting it a little to make sure it was centered.

“Thank you!” you piped up when he turned back to you.  And just like that, you were plunged back into awkward silence.  You pointed to him, and then the typewriter as you pantomimed typing.  “Can you type?”  He seemed to understand what you meant.

“Nu,” he shook his head, “când eram mic, trebuiau înregistrați anual.”

“...huh,” you mumbled, not sure what to do with that.   

“Plec acum,” he announced as he started to step past you again.

You cleared your throat and let him walk out the doorway.  “Right, um, have a good afternoon…”

He gave a little wave as he walked down the hall, and you sighed once he was out of sight and making his way down the creaking stairs.  You impressed yourself with your ability to embarrass yourself constantly, even with total strangers.  But, all that aside, you were finally ready to settle in and properly enjoy your change of scenery.

#sebastian stan x reader #sebastian stan x y/n #sebastian stan rpf #sebastian stan au #sebastian stan fanfic #sebastan stan x you

[cobaincreates]

as it is

warnings: saddy sad sad, secretly hope i hurt you with this

count: 3k+

pinterest for the pic let me know what ya thinkin

i made a playlist for this!

— — —

every part of you despised the country club. you hated the food, you hated the people, you hated the money. you refused to partake in anything the members organized. like hell you’d show up for cocktails and meaningless conversations with people you didn’t care to know. you hated the snobs, the businessmen with sticks up their asses, the housewives with no names other than their husbands’. and you most certainly hated, loathed, despised midsummers. the one time you had actually enjoyed yourself was with someone who seemed so far away now.

your father was practically forcing you to go tonight just so he’d have a date. you knew how much it meant to him, to show up in support of his recent divorce from your step-mother, a woman who was a nightmare walking. after moaning and groaning about not wanting to go the night prior, you finally realized that you had to for him. your dad was your best friend and someone you always leaned on and went to for anything. growing up without a mom, or that motherly figure, was difficult in its own but your father had done a great job. you came home every night, ate dinner with him, had conversations that either had you crying of laughter or even more love for him. he really was your best friend.

the past few months had been hard. not even because of your dad, you felt for him, but you had your own dramas to deal with. on top of being a full-time student off the island and working part-time in a small boutique, you had been fighting an internal battle. it came along with a heavy dark cloud and one that constantly followed you around. now, being back home for the summer, it felt even heavier and seemed even darker than before.

your dad’s breakup had gone fairly smooth, and without a lawsuit thankfully. yours on the other hand felt as though it were still happening. each day you could feel your heart breaking more and more, like the dying organ was spreading rot throughout your body, making your limbs numb and cold. sometimes you had to close your eyes to find the faint beating.

you knew something was going on between you and rafe only a few weeks prior to the initial decision. your gut was telling you something was wrong whenever you spoke with him, either on the phone or in person. his college was close to yours, but still so far. you knew he had a life without you in it and you fully understood that and respected it. but one day it felt as though he had put you way farther down on his list of priorities than he ever had before and it didn’t sit right. you tried to ignore the growing mass in your gut the more you saw him, noticing small things like his eyes flicking away or how his hand felt limp in yours. usually he held it so tight like he was afraid to let go. but then it turned into you not wanting to let go. you still didn’t want to.

you still didn’t understand why he did it or what you had done wrong. he never said that he wasn’t in love with you anymore. the only thing close to an answer you got was that he’d still be your friend. you would’ve understood completely if he had said that he wasn’t sure what he was feeling, you would’ve totally let him figure it out himself– given him some time to think.

before you started to date rafe, he had a habit of keeping himself closed off. you understood it the best you could with being a young adult and navigating your mind. it took a while for you to finally get his trust, to get a good look at the inside of his brain. now it felt as if you were back at square one, like you were trying to knock down the hard exterior all over again.

as you got ready for the night you couldn’t help reminiscing on last year’s midsummers. rafe had worn a new tux and slicked back his hair, his face adorned with a gleeful smile. you didn’t let him get too into his head at the small conversations with his father nor did you let him lose himself in the free booze. you made sure to hold him up as best you could and to sway him from anything that might trigger his inner demons. it was a beautiful night and you remembered how he looked at you, so adoringly like he was the luckiest guy in the world, when it had been you all along with the luck.

you looked between a golden necklace, a thin chain with the northern star attached, and a silver one your father had gifted you for a birthday one year. running your thumb over the golden star, you couldn’t help leaning toward wearing it.

“what’s this?” turning around, you held the white box in the palm of your hand. your curious eyes met rafe’s as he looked up at you from a book he was reading. his arm slowly moved from behind his head as he sat up.

“i wasn’t supposed to be around when you found that.” he said, closing the book, and smiling sheepishly.

you blushed and broke out into a grin as you moved to sit by him with the box. “you weren’t going to propose in person?”

“i’m not proposing,” he rolled his eyes.

you hummed with a teasing grin and pulled the top off the box. rafe moved his legs over the side of his bed, brushing against you. he clasped his hands together between his knees as he watched you open the second box. your shoulders relaxed as a breath came out of your mouth, seeing a golden necklace perfectly placed, shimmering.

“rafe, it’s so pretty.”

he smiled at your reaction. reaching over, he maneuvered the necklace out of the box and unclasped it. you discarded the box in your lap and moved your hair out of the way as rafe brought it around your neck, letting it rest delicately. his hand rubbed down your back once it was secure, pressing a soft kiss into the hollow between your shoulder and neck. you looked up into his handsome face, breathing in the air and filling up with all of the love for him.

you clasped the silver necklace and moved from the mirror without looking over yourself. your father was waiting for you by the door, he had been ready to go for ten minutes, but he didn’t bother shouting up the stairs to get you to hurry up. you thanked him silently for your coat and walked out the door.

it sort of made you queasy to know that some of your father’s money was contributing to the event. the awning covered in vines and vines of ivy made you grimace. you quickly dropped it as your dad put a hand on your upper back, posing next to you with a bright smile. you couldn’t help but wonder if he’d meet a new wife tonight. maybe he’d finally give ms. conelly the time of day after years of her pining over him. it was so disgustingly obvious when she came over, offering his favorite dessert of lemon bars as some sort of flirtation device. it worked since she was invited into the house every time and you spent at least an hour and a half rolling your eyes in your room at their laughter floating up the stairs. you used to imagine your stepmother diving across the kitchen island and yanking ms. conelly’s extensions out. there was also a fight when the overly friendly neighbor left.

it wasn’t long before you were stationed at the hor d'oeuvres table, watching your father laugh with some of his friends. they each wore the same boring suit, just in difference colors or slightly different styles. you held in a yawn. you wondered if you looked ridiculous in your dress. subconsciously, you looked down to assess if anything was out of place or if the fabric was too ruffled somewhere. you tugged at it a little then your hand fell easily to the necklace. you turned the pendant over and over between your fingers, watching as a waiter carried a tray toward a group of blonde, identical housewives. you analyzed their diamond necklaces with their matching diamond rings and diamond bracelets. did they ever get tired of it?

you felt a pinprick at the back of your neck once you saw him. the whir of chatter and clinking glasses muffled as you watched him come through the doors onto the porch. the pinprick sent a ripple of tremors up your neck, to the back of your skull. your hands fell to the table behind you, leaning against it to remind you that you were here. you were solid matter.

this year he wore a light gray suit. you liked it much better than the god-awful baby blue one. you kept it to yourself how much you despised it. he looked very handsome and it made you want to tear your heart from your chest and plant it at his feet.

he molded quietly into a group where his father was, joined by his sisters and stepmother. you let out a breath the best you could and yearned for him to look at you. he was facing in your direction but preoccupied with a family friend. all it would take was for him to just lift his eyes, to see you there in your dress, one he hadn’t seen ever. you wondered if you looked as good as he did. would he think so? would it change his mind?

this was ridiculous, you were just going to go over there. you had known his family for years, they loved you, they loved your dad. would your father bring you over with him when he greeted them? he was too busy now talking to a former client, holding a shiny glass of scotch. you didn’t want to wait for him to stop his conversation. it wouldn’t hurt to just go over to rafe and his family.

you stepped forward but your movements faltered pathetically. you stepped back to the table and turned around, staring down at a plate of speared shrimp with tiny parsley leaves over them like blankets. other people moved around you, probably giving you odd looks for blocking the way to the food. your eyes blurred, the waterworks coming fast. you pushed from the table, slightly jostling it, and walked quickly to the restroom.

once inside the safety of the empty bathroom, you curled into a ball with your forehead on your knees. you didn’t care about the dress or if you would crease it. all you could think about was rafe and how he wouldn’t even look at you.

your sniffles stopped once you heard the door open. you sat up and breathed, wiping your eyes and hoping you didn’t look as bad as you felt.

sarah was standing outside of the stall when you unlatched it. your shoulders dropped and you welcomed her tight embrace, wondering when the last time you hugged her was. she pulled you to sit down on the puffy ottoman in the middle of the restroom.

“crying over crab cakes, huh?” sarah nudged your side. you laughed at the inside joke as you stared down at your lap. “you look great. i love your dress.”

“i’m sure i do.” you snorted and reached up to wipe under your eyes. you brushed off the mascara flecks from your fingertips. “happy midsummer’s.”

sarah smiled sympathetically and you couldn’t help your eyes watering again at her face. “i’m sorry,” she said, grabbing ahold of your hand in your lap.

“it’s fine.” you waved her off, knowing she meant about the person she shared the same blood with. “i guess i just wasn’t ready to see him yet. is that stupid?”

“no.” sarah shook her head as she looked intently at you.

“does he even miss me?” you asked. “he won’t even look at me. he probably doesn’t care that i’m here right now.”

sarah reached up to brush a piece of hair behind your ear. she had always felt like a sister to you and you hoped she didn’t feel any differently now that you weren’t dating her brother.

“he said he wanted to be friends. he hasn’t even talked to me since we broke up.” you weren’t sure if sarah was just keeping quiet to let you talk or because she knew the answers to your questions. “i can’t stop thinking about him. god, it would be easier to be angry at him. i wish he came with someone else.”

“i’m sorry you broke up.” she said. you sniffed and gave her a sad smile.

sighing deeply, you sat up straight a second later. you partially felt better for getting a few things out to someone. you hadn’t really talked that much about the break up to anyone. your father was already dealing with enough and your friends were back in their own homes, miles and miles away. you felt like you sounded pathetic over the phone so you didn’t even bother.

sarah excused herself to use the bathroom and you waited for her. you washed your hands and wiped at your eyes, cleaning up the mascara that ran a little. nothing too major to give away that you had been crying. once sarah was out and had clean hands, she put her arm through yours and walked with you through the club then back outside.

sarah groaned once you got to the porch. “i have to go drag wheezie from the table. she’s always on her phone and if i don’t do it, my dad will be pissed. i’ll see you around?”

you smiled genuinely at her minuscule drama and nodded. she gave your arm a squeeze before bounding down the steps, her dress flowing behind her. you watched as she nudged wheezie, who ignored her, then as sarah snatched the phone from her sister’s hands and tossed it onto the table. wheezie quickly turned to her older sister and started to shout until she remembered where she was. you knew that the cameron sisters knew that if they caused a scene, all hell would break lose with ward, their father. he was all about his family’s image.

you stepped over to the railing, leaning against one of the pillars with your arms across your chest. looking over the crowding dance area, you saw your father dancing with ms. conelly. you had to stop the bile from reaching your throat. maybe she was nicer than your stepmother—ex stepmother.

you found rafe with a group of his friends closer to the tables. it was nauseating that they all had at least one hand in their pocket each. they could’ve been a boy band for crying out loud. rafe was laughing and you couldn’t hear him over the mass amount of chatter, but you knew which laugh it was. he was enjoying himself. at least he was happy. beside him, topper was sipping from a green beer bottle. a humorous hum erupted from your chest, a smile pulling at the corner of your lips.

you couldn’t stop giggling. it bubbled from your chest like champagne and disappeared into the fast moving air around you as you jogged onto the porch. you held an arm over your chest, stopping your boobs from bouncing too much, while your hand was clasped tightly in rafe’s. he stopped along the railing, propping himself against the pillar to breathe. you peered over at topper who was trying to contain his coughing fit.

rafe laughed, squinting his eyes shut. you two had escaped just in time from the boy who was trying so hard to flirt with cassie o’brien. from the sound of it, it wasn’t going well at all so you took it upon yourself to help topper out. you whispered to rafe for his hidden flask and snuck a bit into topper’s drink that he was holding. it was difficult at first since he talked a lot with his hands, but eventually you poured some of the liquor in and hid it as you went back over to rafe. it didn’t take long for topper to know what happened, his eyes finding you and your boyfriend before you ran like school children.

“he’s going to give us so much shit.” you said, shaking your head with a grin.

rafe settled, wiping the corner of his eyes. he pulled the flask from his pocket and held it up in cheers to topper, who was still shooting daggers your way. rafe took a swig then passed it to you. you took a sip, grimacing and shivering as the liquor passed into your system.

“i don’t even know how much i put in his drink.” you said as you handed the flask back. rafe laughed again, leaning toward you to put his head on your shoulder. his arms went around you, pulling you flush against him in a hug.

“god, i love you.” he said, bright eyes as he looked down at you.

you smiled before he kissed you sweetly, holding your face against his for a moment.

you hadn’t realized you’d caught topper’s attention until he disappeared from your sight. you reached for the railing with shaky hands, willing them to stop trembling.

“you look pathetic over here.” topper said from behind you. you looked over your shoulder as he walked over.

“thanks so much, topper.” you said in a feigned enthusiastic tone. he sighed deeply and glanced in the direction of where he previously was, where rafe still was. you didn’t bother looking over there. you found the chipped paint much more interesting than your ex.

“you don’t have to be over here.” you said. the last thing you wanted was rafe’s best friend pitying you. did rafe ask him to come over?

topper turned in your peripheral, leaning his hip against the railing, his hands on his pockets. “you’re my friend too.” he said. you picked off a piece of paint. it crumbled easily under your nail. “you’re not answering my texts.”

now you looked up at him. maybe he’d see why you hadn’t answered. he’d have to be an idiot not to know. topper was smart though and you knew that. he gave you a sympathetic look, much like sarah.

“why don’t you find a rebound or something?” topper suggested, hoping to lighten the mood. “there’s a whole lot of fresh meat here.”

you didn’t want fresh meat. you wanted old meat. you wanted the meat you had for the last two years. it was familiar. it was safe. you knew the taste. you knew what to expect when you took a bite.

“i wouldn’t do that to him.” you shook your head softly.

topper’s mouth twitched into a partial smile. his hand appeared on your shoulder before he pulled you into a hug. you hadn’t hugged topper that many times throughout your life. but this was nice. you wrapped your hands around his back, planting them flat on his shoulder blades. resting your head against his chest, you closed your eyes for a moment and just let it be.

“will you dance with me?” he asked after a long moment. you remembered where you were then, hearing the clinking glasses and loud voices.

you pulled away to look toward the party again. you spotted your father across the dance floor, no longer dancing with a pining middle aged woman. he caught your eye, a slightly raise of his eyebrows in question.

“maybe later, top.” you said and slid your arms away from him. you sent him a thankful smile as you went down the stairs to your dad.

“hey, kiddo.” your soft-spoken father said, reaching a hand toward you. you took it and let him pull you onto the dance floor for a slower song. “what’s going on?”

you looked up at his aged eyes from his plaid tie and smiled weakly. “it’s nothing, dad.”

“what’s wrong?” he prodded as your feet moved together. your father was always one to get you to talk things out, to let your feelings out. he always reminded you to just feel them, to let them come and go.

your eyes pricked with more tears and you quickly lay your head on his chest. he brushed your hair on the back of your head as you squeezed your eyes shut and begged the tears to go away. you needed to stop crying.

“i want to break up.”

“it’s okay to miss him.” you father said only for you to hear. you didn’t want to open your eyes because you knew that if you did, you’d see everyone else around you. keeping them closed and focusing on his voice kept you safe.

“i just don’t want this anymore.”

“it’s part of healing to miss him.” he continued. you tightened your arms around his shoulders, clasping your hands together.

“i still want to be friends.”

“do you miss her?” you asked, your voice cracking slightly.

“sometimes.” he answered. “but we were different than you and rafe.” he hadn’t said his name since you told him the day you got home. you felt a tear slip down your cheek. “listen, i can’t tell you how long it’s going to take, but there’s going to be a day where you won’t feel sad about it anymore. i promise you won’t feel like this forever.” he pressed a kiss to your hair. “just keep doing what you’re doing, focus on school, focus on your friends, have fun, go out and meet someone new for the night.”

if you hadn’t been crying or in your feelings you would’ve rolled your eyes and felt a little uncomfortable at your dad encouraging you to have a one-night stand. but it felt good to hear the affirmations.

“it’s okay.” he said. “it’s going to be okay.”

#rafe cameron #outer banks #rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron imagine #rafe cameron oneshot #rafe cameron x fem!reader

[wordsfromthesol]

Sleep Deprived

Author: @wordsfromthesol Taglist: @zphilophobiaz Pairing: Tim Drake x Reader Summary:  Tim accidentally falls asleep in the wrong apartment. That apartment happens to be yours, and it happens to be on your first day at your new job. Warnings: Language maybe? Word Count: 1.6k

It was the first day of your new job, your new job at Wayne Enterprises. Unfortunately, this meant you had to actually start waking up early. When the alarm went off at 5:30 in the morning you absolutely dreaded leaving your warm bed, but it was your first day and you were determined to make a good impression. Throwing your legs over the side of the bed, you slowly pushed yourself up and shuffled into the bathroom. Forty-five minutes later you came out and nearly fell to the floor in shock upon noticing a figure in your bed. Stalking closer you noticed they had a mask on…and was that a cape? After staring for a solid minute and a half you finally recognized the emblem, Red Robin, one of the infamous vigilantes of Gotham. You had only been in Gotham a week, was this normal? Shaking the thoughts from your mind you squinted through the dark and made your way to your closet. Selecting an outfit you tip-toed into the living room and got dressed. You had planned to actually make breakfast, but you supposed you had time to stop somewhere. Jotting down a quick note for the hero, you quietly went back into the room and placed it on the nightstand before leaving.

**

Tim's eyes fluttered before shooting open. His mind went into panic mode, quickly surveying the area and finding a note on the nightstand.  

Red Robin,

I think you stumbled into my apartment by accident, but I'm sure keeping Gotham safe takes quite a toll. Since you’re a hero, I'm hoping you won't steal any of my stuff. Feel free to help yourself to any coffee.

Tim made his way to the window. "This isn't even close to my apartment." He mumbled to himself just as his phone rang.

"Dick?"

"Where the hell are you?"

"I…uh…working."

"At an apartment building half a mile from yours?"

"Why do you -- nevermind. I guess I slept here." Tim stopped trying to keep up the façade.

"DO YOU HAVE A GIRLFRIEND I DON'T KNOW ABOUT?!" Dick's voice went up two octaves as he screamed across the phone line.

"Geez, calm down Dick. No, I don't have a girlfriend. I honestly don't know how I ended up here. I was patrolling late last night --"

Dick cut him off, "When was the last time you slept? Not including this morning." He quickly added the qualifying statement.

"Three days…" Tim mumbled, knowing he was about to get an ear full from his brother.

"You can't keep doing this Tim. You're going to get yourself hurt."

"I know, okay." The statement long and drawn out. "I didn't mean to, I just get hyper fixated…"

"You're taking off tonight. From patrol and case work. And you better figure out how to thank that poor girl."

Tim knew it was pointless arguing with him and relented before hanging up the phone. At least now he could catch up on some WE work these next few days.

**

You quickly learned from your new coworkers that heroes stumbling into random apartments for a nap was not a normal occurrence in Gotham. You were just lucky…according to them. When you got back the mysterious figure had left. Though it would've been more surprising if he was still there.

When your alarm went off the next morning, you proceeded to the bathroom as usual. Only this time when you were done, your head hesitantly peaked around the corner, half expecting the hero to be in your bed once again. He wasn't. Slightly disheartened, you made your way to the WE building and went straight to research and development, hoping to avoid the morning gossip.

"Oh, Y/N! You're here. Can you run this up to Mr. Drake's office?" Your supervisor asked before you could step through the door.

"You…you mean like…the CEO, Mr. Drake?"

She could hear the wavering in your voice and quickly consoled you, "Don't worry. He's never here. More of a night owl I suppose. Just set it on his desk."

"Okay…" You were still hesitant, but couldn't exactly turn her down on your second day of work. Once you got to his office, his secretary didn't bother looking up. They just waved you along. Just as you set the folder on his desk, you heard the door opening. "Shit." You mumbled, praying that it wasn't the CEO.

"You must be Y/N." The voice was clear and crisp behind you. You spun around to see Timothy Drake, CEO of Wayne Enterprises, standing before you.

"Uh…yeah. You know who I am?"

"Heh, well I do run the company."

"But I just started yesterday. I'm nobody."

"Don't be ridiculous. What did you bring?" Tim motioned towards the folder on his desk beside you.

"A proposal from Sarah. I think it's some new circuit board."

"Well don't try to sell me on it." Tim could hear the lack of enthusiasm in your voice, not that you were trying to hide it.

"Sorry…not my thing I guess." You tried to play off the awkwardness…it did not work.

"You work under her, don't you?" Tim furrowed his brows as he stalked over and grabbed the folder, slowly thumbing through the papers.

"Yeah." You wanted to rant more, but you didn't think it was appropriate. It was your second day, and though the work didn't interest you, Wayne Enterprises did. This was how you could get your foot in the door. How you could make a difference in the world.

"Well, then what is your thing?" Tim was determined to get the answers he wanted. After all, he had to have some way to repay you for letting him crash uninvited at your apartment. And not waking him or telling the world that he was there.

"Honestly…" You hesitated to complain about your brand new job, but something about Tim felt familiar and safe. "I want to develop technology that makes a difference, that helps people. The projects I've seen seem completely money driven, which I understand. But in Gotham we have so much to look out for. Think about a chemical to counterattack Poison Ivy's spell or a ballistics vest you can comfortably wear under anything…" You drifted off into your thoughts until you realized you had been ranting for almost fifteen minutes. "I'm sorry. I don't mean to sound ungrateful for this --" Tim cut you off.

"No. I think we may have placed you in the wrong division. I want you to meet someone."

**

"I figured it out." Tim proudly announced as he sauntered into the Batcave, nodding toward Dick sitting at the computer.

"Figured out how to convince me to let you patrol tonight? Because the answer is no." Dick didn't even bother to look up. Mainly because he didn't want to be persuaded otherwise.

"No. You were right, I needed time. But the girl. Y/N."

"Your new girlfriend…" Dick wagged his eyes as he spun around to face his brother.

Tim rolled his eyes and attempted to ignored his older brother's comment. "She's the new WE employee. I'm moving her from our standard R&D department." Dick arched his eyebrows, still unsure where Tim was going with this. "She's going to be working with Lucius."

"And you think that's a good idea?"

"Yes. I fully checked her out and I think her work will benefit us more than it will WE."

"So you going to officially introduce yourself then?"

"Yes," Tim looked suspiciously at the mischievous glare in Dick's eyes before quickly adding, "But not for that reason!"

"Hmm" Dick spun back around towards the computer.  

"Don't you dare tell Jason about this!" Tim screamed as he bolted up the stairs.

**

The next day you stood in awe once more as your new boss, Lucius Fox, was showing you more of the lab. There was technology here that you didn't even think existed. That's when it all clicked, this was tech used by superheroes. Wayne Enterprises supplied tech to the Justice League, Titans, Outsiders…all the superhero groups you could think of had displayed various pieces you now recognized around the lab. Your jaw finally dropped open as you watched Red Robin himself saunter down the hallway.

"Lucius! I heard you had a new protégé." The vigilante eyed you as he came to a stop next to your new boss.

"Red Robin. I didn't know you were stopping by today." You noticed Lucius smirk as he side-eyed the hero.

"Well I…" The remark caught Tim off guard…he didn't really have a particular reason for coming to the lab today. Well other than you. "I had to meet Y/N. I've heard great things so far."

"Right, well I have your suit repaired." Lucius chimed in to relieve some of the awkward tension before quickly disappearing to retrieve it.

Your eyes squinted as you glanced awkwardly around the room, "I've been employed here for like 3 days now…"

"Your…uh…research at school. And your internship at LexCorp…" Of course he had researched you. There's no way you would've gotten into the position without extensive background checks. You awkwardly fiddled with your fingers, hoping Lucius would soon return. You didn't expect Red Robin to try and continue the conversation. "Also thanks for letting me crash the other night. Guess I didn't realize how tired I was."

"So you don't just pick a random apartment to sleep in every night?"

"Well I try not to…I already got berated enough by my brother for that night."

"Good, as you should've." Red Robin looked slightly hurt by your commentary, so you continued. "It's never healthy to let yourself get to that point. What if you had to fight someone?"

"You sound like him…but fair enough. At least it allowed me to work normal hours for once this week."

The gears were turning in your head as everything fell into place, "Tim?" you blurted out before you realized what you had said.

"Ha! Well that didn’t take long." Lucius chuckled as he walked out, costume in hand. Tim's cheeks were already turning a bright crimson.

#Tim Drake #tim drake fanfic #tim drake imagine #tim drake x reader #Red Robin #red robin fanfic #red robin x reader #red robin imagine #red robin x you #dick grayson #dick grayson fanfic #dick grayson x reader #dick grayson imagine #nightwing #nightwing fanfic #nightwing x reader #nightwing imagine #batboys #batboys x you #batboys fanfic #batboys x reader #batboys imagine #batfamily #BatFam #batfam fanfic #batfam imagine #batfam x reader

[scribble-blog]

Soulmate AU part 8!!!

First • Previous • Here • Next

“I need you to call your father, Wayne,” Ivy hissed, hand over the slowly growing red spot on her side. “And tell him that Scarecrow and his thugs have decided to trash up my gardens.” She spat the words furiously for someone who was starting to look paler than the Joker’s clown makeup. “Get your date out of here while you can.”

From the crashing sound behind Ivy, that wasn’t possible.

“Miss,” Marinette moved forward. “Let Damian call for help. You need medical attention.”

Ivy just laughed at that, wincing. “Yeah.”

Damian’s hands had been on his phone since Ivy showed up, dialing Alfred’s number and letting the call roll, knowing that he would hear everything and send whoever could help. He should be getting away from them, trying to change so Robin could come help-

Marinette’s eyes just narrowed. “You’re bleeding out.” With much more force than Damian thought she could exert with her tiny frame, she pulled Ivy forward, down to the bench, and then started tearing away the edges of the shirt that was soaked with red. “Damian. Call for help.”

He made a show of pulling the phone out, pretended to dial, and then held it up. Alfred spoke up.

“Master Bruce is already on his way. Masters Jason and Tim as well.”

“Alfred,” he said, playacting it out. “Something is going on at the gardens. Pam’s been shot and said that it’s Scarecrow.”

“ETA seven minutes, Master Damian. Apologies that this disrupted your date.”

Said ‘date’ was ripping the hem of her own dress into strips, while helping Ivy maintain pressure on the wound, then winding the bandages around her with a precision that spoke to past experience.

“Thank you, Alfred. We’ll sit tight, and try to stay out of sight.”

He didn’t end the call. It was far better to have the line open in case anything else went down.

“That’s as much as I can do,” Marinette said, face set in determination. “Is there anyway we can get you out and to some actual medical personnel?”

Ivy made a face. “You’ve done plenty, kid. I’ll probably be just fine.”

“You’ve been shot!” Marinette’s voice went high with outrage.

“Looky here,” a voice from the door called out.

Damian faced the idiot. Hulking figure, gun-toting. Typical.

“We got a Wayne, a girl, and Ivy, holed up in the back,” he spoke into an earpiece. “The three of you are coming with me.”

“Monsieur,” Marinette spoke up coldly. “This woman is shot, still bleeding. I will not allow you to move her.”

With a feeling like ice water down his back, he realized he couldn’t actually leave. This girl wouldn’t last face to face with a goon, let alone Scarecrow. Damian stood beside her. “Marinette, these men are dangerous. Don’t antagonize them.”

“Listen to the boy, sweetheart,” the man growled, getting up close in her face. “Now, you and Wayne are gonna help her up, and bring her to the front. If she passes out or dies, I guess you drag the body. Understood?”

Damian can feel it right before she decides to do something, and he tries to move before it happens to preempt whatever retaliation for her snark is incoming.

And then without words, she drives one hand up into his face, her knee into his crotch, and uses his doubling over to sweep his legs out from under him. With one swift movement, she pulls his head forward and then bashes it back to the floor. The man’s eyes roll up in his head.

Damian is left, if he is being honest, a little breathless. He’d completely forgotten that Drake had said she’d been able to take him down. Between her small stature and innocent appearance, she seemed so...

“Damian,” Marinette says levelly. “Check the hallway. We need to move to a different room.”

Well. He supposed he won’t ever make the mistake of calling her harmless.

He does as she asks, without question. He’s caught halfway between disbelief and high elation. Marinette had seemed sweet and funny and smart in their quiet awkward conversation, but this was- he let himself be pleasantly surprised by just how relieved he was that his soulmate knew how to protect herself.

And watching her take down a guy easily two times her size was, to be frank, very attractive.

“Clear for now,” he told her lowly. She was helping up Ivy. “Let’s take the left, it’s a slightly longer route to the front so we should have a bit more time to hide.”

Before, he would’ve been surprised by her taking most of Ivy’s weight as she helped her walk. Now, it made sense, even if her height made the image unusual.

“Where’s the biggest tree in this place?”

His head whipped towards her. “Too close to the front. We won’t make it.”

“Side exits?”

“Can’t risk them. Probably has men outside.”

“Dark room for night blooming plants?”

Ivy, pale with a thin sheen of sweat, looked up. “Three rooms down on the right. Smart gal you picked up, Wayne.”

He could only nod, starting to lead them. Ivy’s labored breath was too loud, but there wasn’t much they could do.

“Stop,” Marinette breathed, and Damian did so without hesitation. He pushed himself against the wall as Marinette did her best to do the same, Ivy leaning against the wall and her shoulder.

He heard the footsteps a moment after. Three sets. Marinette tensed and he waited.

She met his eyes, and he nodded at her, reassuring the best he can. She straightened though, so it mustn’t have been too bad.

The footsteps were too close. He took a centering breath, and leapt the moment he saw movement.

The first man went down easily, the second fumbling with his gun long enough for Damian to disarm him and send him flying, joining his friend in a heap against the wall. The third man was raising his gun even as Damian spun back to him, but before he could do anything Marinette was there, one hand chopping against his exposed throat, the other wrenching the gun away.

The man couldn’t recover enough to retaliate before Damian crossed the divide and delivered a blow that knocked him unconscious.

“Thanks,” Marinette breathed out, just a bit to close to him. His eyes met hers again and that electric current returned, sharp and steady between them even with no contact.

Ivy coughed.

Damian turned away instantly. Marinette slipped right back into steadying Ivy, and they continued to the correct room without any further interruptions.

The room wasn’t in total darkness- there were flowers, grasses, and mosses that exuded faint bioluminescence, but the soft glow did little to actually illuminate the room. If anything, it cast the shadows darker, leaving every shadow absolute.

It was brilliant.

Marinette was already feeling along, finding somewhere dark and soft for Ivy to recline. Damian skulked after them, one eye on the door and the other on his phone. The call was still open, Alfred waiting on the other end. Ivy was quiet enough now that he didn’t dare break the silence to speak to him.

He received an ETA text of two minutes. He could only hope that they wouldn’t check this room.

They would though.

And Damian would be ready when they did.

TAGLIST:

@the-fusionist @rebecarojas07 @lowandco @kotaleartzu @resignedcatservant @alenee13 @mystery-5-5 @ladybug-182 @actual-disaster-human @loysydark @rumbelle18 @magic-miraculous @vixen-uchiha @athena452 @mochegato @ash-amg @worlds-tiniest-spook-pastry @thestressmademedoit @sassakitty @doriebell @toodaloo-kangaroo @myazael @theatreandcomicfreak @mer-mel @dahjokester @northernbluetongue @abrx2002 @area51qt @jessigurl-design @renscorpio @cici-schnee @multplelifes @redscarlet95 @razzledazzle247 @rosep16 @emotionalsupportginger @kceedraws @tired-butterfly @kuroko26 @catthhay @moonystars14 @shamefullove @shreky-boi @imanerddealwith @chaosace @captainmac6 @purple-people-eaters-productions @crazylittlemunchkin @weird-pale-blonde-person @bigpicklebananatree

#maribat #daminette #daminette soulmates #soulmate au #fanfic #me to myself: oh but i dont want to leave them on a cliffhanger overnight like that!!! #me also to me: how about cliffhanger but still another chapter!!!!! #i dont know how to write high stakes! or fights!! im just blundering about hoping i dont give someone three arms bc i added a punch somewher

[zamoimagines]

Words: 2393

Pairing: Ally Mayfair Richards x Reader 

A/N: this has been in my drafts for quite some time, so enjoy!

“Last order of the night folks!” one of the line cooks called back. Other employees hooted as the night came to a close. 

“Thank god, I’m ready to call it a night!” Carla, your coworker, said with a wide grin. 

“Me the hell too!” you added. 

The evening had gone by relatively slow at the restaurant. Perhaps that was the benefit of working a closing shift on a Sunday night. For the most part, you loved your job. Ally, your boss, was a well established business woman and you respected the hell out of her. She really cared about the restaurant and it truly showed through her work. Not to mention you loved all of your coworkers and genuinely enjoyed making carefully crafted dishes. You had to admit, this restaurant had become a part of you. 

Though things changed when Ivy disappeared. Without a culinary manager, Ally couldn’t keep up with all of the work on top of her campaign. The only thing she really could do was hire a new manager to help alongside her. 

You could hear a faint whistling sound coming from around the corner. Carla groaned to herself at hearing the familiar tune. 

“Ugh, what is he still doing here?” she muttered. 

You knew exactly who she was talking about. 

Chris took over the culinary manager position months ago in place of Ally’s former spouse. Everyone could agree that he changed the vibe of the restaurant, and it wasn’t in a good way. When Ally wasn’t around, he acted as if the restaurant was his. He treated everyone here like shit and it was obvious that he didn’t care about this place like the rest of you did. Everyone hated him. 

“Hiya, ladies! How are we doing back here?” a weasley voice called out. You could feel a chill run down your spine. 

Luckily for you, Chris had taken a liking to you. A very extreme liking. 

You did your best to keep your eyes on your work as he appeared. It wasn’t that he was ugly. He always kept his reddish brown hair tidy and made sure his beard was well trimmed. He always dressed professionally and had a deceivingly beautiful smile. You’d admitted that he was alright looking. Though he seemed to completely disregard the fact that you were a lesbian. 

“We’re fine, Chris. List’s almost done.” Carla piped up.

Chris completely ignored her statement and walked over to where you were standing. 

“Miss Y/N? How’s the list coming?” he asked, standing so close that you could feel his breath against your cheek. You tried hard not to choke on the smell of his cologne. 

“We’re nearly finished. The only thing left is getting the soup ready for tomorrow morning.” you replied reluctantly. 

“Oh, that’s nothing!” He exclaimed. “You can handle that, can’t you?”

Carla rolled her eyes. “Of course we can. Now, can we please finish up?”

Chris turned to Carla, flashing her a passive look. 

“Actually, Miss Williams, I won’t be needing you any longer. Why don’t you clock out and take off early tonight, hm?”

“But Ally scheduled me to close-”

“I understand that, but I think Y/N can handle taking your closing shift. Besides, I need to get you off of the clock anyway so you don’t run overtime.” 

Carla’s brows furrowed as your blood began to boil. You had been scheduled to open, then asked to stay an extra five hours. Now he wanted you to close by yourself? 

“Chris, I’d really prefer it if Carla stayed.”

“You’ll be fine! I know you’re capable. Carla, I’ll clock you out.”

As he walked away, your coworker growled under her breath. 

“What the hell is his problem? I’m not even close to over time!”

“It’s okay, it’s not your fault.” you muttered. “I’ll see you on Monday, yeah?”

“Are you sure you’re going to be okay? I can call Ally,”

“It’s fine… Really. Go get some sleep.” 

Carla nodded before getting her things. 

The rest of the night went painfully slow. Chris continued to keep adding items to your list, while others left. One by one, employees were leaving for the evening. The last dishwasher waved to you right before he went out the back door. 

“Night, Y/N!”

“Night.” you mumbled. You were so tired. You were the last one in the kitchen but you had finally finished your list. Beginning to clean, you made sure to rush so that you could leave as soon as possible. 

Just as you were taking off your apron, you heard the faint whistling begin once again. Your heart was racing. Chris was still fucking here.

He came around the corner and gave you a sly grin. 

“Done?” 

“Yeah… Is it good enough for tonight? I was supposed to leave hours ago.” 

Chris raised one of his brows. “Did you put the lids on the sink?”

Shit.

“No, I forgot. Let me take care of that…” 

You quickly rushed over to the sinks and placed the lids over them. As you placed the last one, you felt firm hands upon your shoulders. 

“Woah, woah, woah… Why don’t you slow down? You can take your time, you know.” 

Chris was standing directly behind you, his mouth inches away from your ear. His thumbs began to gently rub into your skin. Your body was completely paralyzed. 

“I-I’m just trying to get home, that’s all.”

“It’s okay, Y/N. I see how jumpy you get whenever I’m around.” One of his hands brushed your hair back gently. “I know you want me.”

Your eyes widened as you wriggled out of his grasp. You took a step away from him. 

“Chris, look, I think maybe you’re reading things wrong-”

In an instant, he cornered you so that his body was pressed against your own. The edge of the counter hit the middle of your back. 

“You don’t have to play hard to get, sunshine. We can keep it a secret…” His arm wrapped around your waist and gripped you tight. You tried to push him off of you, but his hold on you was too strong. 

“Chris, get off of me!”

“Come on, sweetheart, just one kiss. I promise you won’t regret it.”

“Get the fuck off of me!”

He leaned his face close to yours. You could smell liquor on his breath. His lips barely touched your own as he gazed deep into your eyes.

“Naughty girl… Give Daddy a kiss.”

From behind you, someone cleared their throat rather loudly. You weren’t the only two here. You couldn’t see who it was, but you could see a wave of panic sweep over Chris. He immediately stood up straight. You turned your head to see the person standing there. 

“Christopher Martin, do you care to tell me what’s going on here?” Ally said in a rather stern tone. 

You had never been so happy to see your boss in your life. She must have come from her campaign, for she was still dressed in her pantsuit. You didn’t think she would be in tonight though you were completely grateful that she’d come when she did. 

“I… I was just trying to help Miss Y/L/N close-”

“That’s not what it looked like.” She folded her arms in front of her chest as she slowly made her way closer to Chris. 

“It seems like you were trying to sexually assault one of my employees.”

“N-No,” he began, “It’s not like that at all-”

“Where in the fuck do you get off?” Ally shouted. 

You bit your lower lip. Chris was absolutely speechless.

“I trust you with my restaurant while I leave to give my speech to the press, and I come back to see you pinning one of my female prep cooks down and asking her to call you Daddy.” The corners of her lips twitched in anger. 

“Honestly, Ally, she brought it on. She’s been leading me on for weeks, she was begging me to do something-”

“I do not give a flying fuck about what you have to say. Y/N has never once tried to lead you on, she’s a fucking lesbian for christ’s sake. Did that ever occur to you?”

“I… I..”

“Of course it didn’t, because you’re a fucking prick.” She towered over Chris as her eyes filled with rage. 

“If I EVER see you so much as glance at one of my female employees again, I will fucking DESTROY you. Is that clear?”

Your hand was covering your mouth. You had never seen Ally so heated like this. All Chris could do was nod his head, he couldn’t even speak. 

“Get the fuck out of my restaurant. You’re fired.” 

Chris’s mouth dropped open. 

“You can’t do that! I’m the culinary manager!”

“Not anymore. If you don’t leave now, I’ll call the cops and we can make this a bigger deal than it should be. I’ve beat a whole fucking cult before, I won’t hesitate to ruin your life.”

Chris angrily looked at you, then at Ally. She stood close to you, almost shielding you from him. You couldn’t believe what was happening right now. 

Without saying anything, he got his coat and stormed out the back door. Ally turned to you before taking your hands into her own.

“Are you okay? Did he hurt you at all?”

Her skin was warm against your own. This touch was much more welcome, more genuine. She made you feel so safe. 

“No, I’m okay.” you replied. “Thank you… It would’ve been so much worse if you hadn’t been there.”

Ally cupped one of your cheeks in her hand. “You don’t have to see him ever again, okay? I’ll make sure he never steps foot in here.”

You nodded but you were a little flustered. Ally had never been this close to you before. You got the occasional pat on the back and she would always come back to talk to you in a friendly way, but this was much different. Her eyes were gazing deep into your own as if she was putting you in a trance. You hadn’t even noticed the bright pink blush that had rushed to your face. 

Ally was lingering much longer than she had planned to. Her heart was racing. She wasn’t entirely sure why seeing Chris trying to hit on you filled her with so much rage. If it had been any other female employee, he still would’ve gotten fired and she would’ve been just as angry at him. Though seeing him touch you in such a disgusting manner gave her nothing but the desire to slit his throat. Holding you close like this was the only thing keeping her calm. 

“Uh… Why don’t you go get your things,” She muttered as she pulled away from you slightly. “I’ll walk you to your car.”

You didn’t question her. Immediately, you went to the back to grab your purse and your jacket. You took a moment to inhale slowly. Tonight had been an absolute rollercoaster. 

When you came back out, Ally placed her hand on your upper back and began to guide you out of the restaurant. 

“What about the closing work?” You asked.

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll take care of it.” The politician replied. 

The parking lot was dark so you were thankful that Ally insisted on coming with you. Chris’s car appeared to be gone, but you could never be too sure. Ally didn’t leave your side once. As you pressed the unlock button on your keys, she opened the driver door for you. 

“Now, I want you to take the week off. Regroup. Take some time to recover from everything.”

“But I have a shift tomorrow morning-”

“I’m aware of that.” She glanced at her surroundings to make sure you were completely safe. “I’m going to cover for you, so don’t worry about it.”

“Ally, seriously I can come to work.”

“After what you went through tonight, I feel personally responsible. I cannot believe I hired such a creep.”

“You couldn’t have known he was going to do that.”

“Either way, I want you to stay home this week. You’ll still be paid and I’ll make sure of that. No one should’ve had to go through something like that.”

You were so shocked at her generosity. She was a great boss, but she was more than that. She saved your life tonight. You owed so much to her. 

“Um… Thank you. For being there…. I’m not sure what I would’ve done if he had actually done something.”

“Anything for you.” Ally said with a small smile. 

“Is there any way I could make it up to you?” 

Ally wasn’t one for others repaying simple favors. Instead, she saw this as an opportunity. There was a short silence as she pulled out a business card from her pocket. 

“You can let me cook you dinner. Tomorrow night, eight o’clock sharp. Are you free?”

“Yeah, I should be. Are you sure I shouldn’t be the one cooking?”

“Positive. You can repay me by giving me some company, does that sound fair to you?”

A wide grin was plastered across your face. You sat down in your car and turned the key in the ignition. 

“Sounds pretty fair to me.”

“Good. Get home safe, okay?” Ally closed your car door carefully before moving to walk away. 

You held the wheel tightly. Tonight had been horrendous, that was for damn certain. But now the Ally Mayfair Richards had offered to dinner at her house. Were you stuck inside a fever dream?

A loud knocking sound rattled your window. The sound caused you to jump as you turned to look out. Ally was waving from outside as if to ask you to roll your window down. As you rolled it down, she stuck her head in the frame. 

“Sorry to scare you! I was gonna say, make sure to text me when you make it home safe, okay? I wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something else happened to you.”

“Of course. Good night, Ally.”

“Good night, honey.” She squeezed your hand tight before making her way back into the restaurant. 

This wasn’t a fever dream whatsoever. You swore you could kiss Chris right on his disgusting lips for he’d scored you a date with the most influential lesbian in town.

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[lupinlongbottom]

Burning Bridges pt. 4

Neville Longbottom x Reader

Summary: The halfway mark of the school year had finally come, a milestone in (Y/N)’s journey as a Hogwarts Professor. Winter break was rather uneventful, but at least the joyous idea of a dear friend’s wedding could help them out, right?

Word Count: 4.1k

Warnings: Swearing, just a bit

A/N: AH! Yeah. That’s all I gotta say about this chapter. Wow. Neville and (Y/N) are dumb dumbs, huh?

Part 1 ... Part 2 ... Part 3 ... Part 5 ... Part 6 ... Part 7

__

Snow had finally touched the ground, blanketing the castle in pure white brilliance. Christmas had come and went, winter break finally had come to an end. Students were running around like mad, trying to finish their assignments, papers and the like that were due for their return.

Neville sat in the greenhouse, opting to stay at the castle for the holidays, only leaving a few times to meet with his grandmother and visit his parents. A yearly tradition. He still had to take care of his plants. He hadn’t seen (Y/N) in the few weeks of break, knowing she must’ve gone to visit her mum in Bristol or the like.

“Come on,” Neville purred, his dragon-hide gloves running against the leaves of a moving plant. “I know you’re angry, but please just work with me here,” he sighed, seemingly giving up on the plant.

“Neville?” a voice called from behind the glass of the greenhouse. He looked up, a window had been open. He saw her, (Y/N), standing in the open window. “Nev!” her face twisted into a grin, rushing away from the window and running through the door.

“(Y/N),” Neville smiled, watching the young professor enter his workspace. “Good to see you.”

“It’s good to see you too,” she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, the hair completely down, no bow in sight. “Venomous Tentacula,” she stopped, hesitant to get closer to Neville or the plant.

“You remember your plants,” Neville said, adjusting his gloves.

“I had a good tutor,” said (Y/N), sitting on an empty patch of countertop, eyeing the plant carefully.

“You’re bright enough, I’m sure you could’ve gotten it without my help,” said Neville, recalling the various hours he had spent with (Y/N) studying for their N.E.W.T-level Herbology class. Madam Pince grew rather annoyed with their idle chatter in the library, usually not pertaining to Herbology. 

“There were times on the road that I could’ve used your help,” (Y/N) shrugged. “One time, it took me the better part of an hour to tell the difference between normal ivy and poison ivy.” 

“How did you say you landed your last job?” Neville teased, turning back to his tentacula, carefully moving branches. “Seems like it was more suited for a herbologist.”

“At times, sure,” (Y/N) admitted. “I lied in the interview about my herbology skills, you know better than anyone that everything I touch dies,” she laughed, fingers swirling in the excess dirt. “But, I was so desperate to work for such an accomplished potioneer I would’ve done much worse to get the job.”

“You gathered potion ingredients, right?” he asked, waiting for a response. (Y/N) rarely talked about her pervious job before working at Hogwarts. 

“Yeah,” she hummed. “I enjoyed it once I got the hang of it, gathering odd plants, finding rare creatures,” (Y/N) sighed blissfully. “Traveling the world just to find the one ingredient that no witch or wizard had ever thought to use in a potion before,” her eyes lit up like the stars, full of wonder.  

“Did you? Find that one ingredient?” 

She shook her head, smiling sadly. “No, but I got to travel and be on my own for months at a time. It was terribly therapeutic.”

“Wasn’t it lonely?” Neville asked, trimming excess leafs off of the plant. “Being alone for that time?” 

“Of course, I’m not an animal,” (Y/N) said, swinging her legs back and forth like a child. “I had Edgar, though. He’s been by my side since fourth year, he’s the person who knows me best.”

“He’s an owl,” Neville stated, giving (Y/N) a pointed look.

“I’m convinced he’s my soulmate,” (Y/N) quipped, pursing her lips gently. “He knows just how to cheer me up when I’m down.”

“Send me an invite when the two of you get married,” Neville laughed, decidedly finished with the plant. “Speaking of…” he paused. “I know you’re planning on going to Harry and Ginny’s wedding, I-I am too, so I was wondering—”

“Oh right! Gin and Harry’s wedding!” (Y/N) ran a hand through her hair, a habit she recently picked up. “I nearly forgot!”

Neville felt relieved to hear her slip of the mind. Why did he feel so relieved? “It’s next week,” he laughed.

“Damn, I knew I was forgetting something all break. I told my mum about this nagging feeling I had in the back of my mind when I was visiting her, but she said it was just ‘professor brain’, whatever that is,” she chuckled. “Lance tried to convince me that she was right, but I disagree.”

“Lance?” 

“Oh!” (Y/N) looked up at Neville. “I totally forgot to tell you! I listened to your advice.”

“Advice?”

“Yeah, when we had tea for the first time? You told me ask out Professor Knight,” (Y/N) smirked. “We’ve been seeing each other more over break.”

“Oh,” Neville mumbled, carefully prying his gloves off.

“He’s rather sweet, a charming guy. I thought he’d be a right prick,” (Y/N) shrugged. “He’s terribly interesting to talk to, about muggle things and teaching. He’s shown me a lot of the castle that even in seven years of schooling I couldn’t have seen.”

“So you’re happy?”

“Mostly,” (Y/N) smiled. “I don’t know how much longer we’re going to be seeing each other, though. He’s a bit full of himself, but it’s been a bit of cheeky fun for the break.”

“I’m assuming he’s going with you to the wedding?” Neville tensed himself, preparing for a blow he’d have to take time to recover from.

“Yeah,” (Y/N) nodded, rolling her eyes. “ I invited him only because I didn’t want to show up stag. He’s been fun and all, I just don’t know how interested in me he is. If the wedding wasn’t next week, I would’ve cancelled my date,” she shrugged. “But, Ginny said she can’t wait to meet the man with the ridiculous name I’ve told her about.”

“Yeah, that would reflect badly on your end,” Neville mumbled, gathering the spare greenery to his right, ignoring practically everything (Y/N) just shared. “Did you need some tentacula leaves? This one got a bit overgrown and I know how expensive and sought after they can be.”

“Get out!” (Y/N) grinned, pulling a spare vial from her boot. “Of course! I only ever had them once or twice before, I’m petrified to get any closer to those plants ever since sixth year.”

“Yeah,” Neville hummed, recalling their lesson on the venomous plant years ago. (Y/N) had nearly had a trip to the hospital wing that day, if not for Neville reigning the plant in. “You just keep an extra vial on you at all times?” he asked, pointing to the boot.

“Slughorn said any good potioneer kept an extra vial or two on them for moments like these,” she smiled, carefully placing the small leaves into the container. “I enchanted my boots for my last job so I could keep my bag light,” she reached down, fishing in her right boot, pulling out her wand, waving it lightly as if to prove a point. “It’s also great for keeping my snacks away from Edgar.”

“Always the clever witch,” Neville smiled, watching (Y/N) shove the bottle back in her boot, her hair falling into her face. “Say, where’s your ribbon? It’s weird to see you without one.”

“Oh,” (Y/N)’s hand flew to her hair, suddenly embarrassed. “Lance told me he liked my hair better when it was down, so I’ve been trying it out.”

“Are you sure it isn’t because you both had the same hairstyle?” Neville joked, recalling the terribly long hair that Professor Knight possessed. 

“Shove it,” (Y/N) laughed, pushing Neville slightly. “I wouldn’t put it past him, though. He’s terribly vain.” 

“If it’s any consolation, I liked the ribbons,” Neville admitted, glancing down at the wooden floorboards. “Could see your face better.”

“I like the ribbons too,” (Y/N) said, feeling a faint heat trace her cheeks. “Say, want to see what else I keep in my boots?” (Y/N) quickly changing the subject. “I’ll keep my stinky socks away from your face… mostly.”

“Charming,” He agreed, watching (Y/N) struggle with her laces. As she focused intently on her brown boot, Neville noted the pink scrap of fabric he had left next to the tentacula plant. Quickly shoving it in his pocket, he coughed. “Go on, let’s see.”

__

Vibrant reds and golds streaked from the ceilings, Gryffindor colors. Entirely Harry’s idea. The reception hall was bustling with the quaint familiarities of old friends, some who hadn’t seen each other after the war was said and done. Half of the hall had red hair, the obvious mark of the Weasley family.  

“I’m glad you made it, even though a little bird told me you had nearly forgotten,” Ginny laughed, elbowing (Y/N) in the arm. She looked stunning in an off-white wedding gown, a perfect dress for a perfect day. The ceremony had gone off without a hitch, minus a few rogue spells to deter the journalists from sneaking in.

“Longbottom told you?” (Y/N) groaned, pulling a face. “Of course he did.”

“Relax, (L/N),” Ginny laughed, carefully holding her champagne glass, afraid to spill. “He was only teasing you. It’s good to hear you two are back in each other’s good graces.”

“It wasn’t easy,” (Y/N) shrugged, recalling her sour attitude towards the Gryffindor, regretting it immensely. “But I’m glad we reconnected. I missed him,” her gaze met the sight of two little girls, both dressed in dark red dresses, playing with one another. “Your nieces are adorable.”

“Aren’t they?” Ginny turned to look at the girls, one blonde and one redheaded. “They’re both angels, thankfully they haven’t got much of my brother’s looks. I reckon it’s all from their wives,” she laughed. “Victoire is practically a Phlegm clone, blonde hair and all. Kayda has most of Charlie’s traits, beautiful brown eyes, but her face is like her mum’s.”

“She’s also terribly dragon-obsessed, like her dad,” Harry said, pulling an arm around his wife. He kissed her temple lightly. “She’s my favorite of the nieces, always asking the difficult questions, not a care in the world.”

“Harry!” Ginny slapped his chest, watching his smirk dwindle.

“Haven’t changed, have you Potter?” (Y/N) grinned, mouthing a ‘hello’ to the groom. He mouthed back, rubbing circles to Ginny’s shoulder.

“So this is Harry Potter,” said Lance, entering the conversation, holding two glasses of champagne. He pressed a peck to (Y/N)’s cheek, handing her a flute. “For my princess of potions.”

(Y/N) grimaced at the nickname, accepting the kiss and the drink. “Lance, I don’t think you’ve met the happy couple. This is Harry and Ginny Potter,” The couple swelled at the mention of their married name. “Gin, Harry, this is—”  

“Lancelot Knight, Professor of Muggle Studies at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry,” he bowed, the purple of his cape nearly hitting (Y/N) in the face. “Congratulations on your happiest of days.”

“Thank you, Lancelot,” Ginny forced a smile, sending a short look of confusion to (Y/N), almost disapprovingly. “We have some photos we need to go take,” Ginny pulled Harry to the side. “Enjoy the food and drinks. Try to find me later, (Y/N),” The couple walked off, murmuring rapidly between one another.

“He seemed unlike anything I’ve read about him,” Lance huffed, drowning his words in the champagne. “You’re not going to drink, darling?”

(Y/N) shook her head. “No,” she handed him the glass, watching him down it in two gulps. She noticed a nearly empty table with only one guest sitting. His hair was gelled back, nearly perfect. Too much gel. “I might go and have a seat, I’m feeling a little woozy.”

“While you waste your night,” Lance pulled his robe back, opening his body up to the crowd before him. “It’s time for me to network. When else can I get all of these famous witches and wizards in one place?”

(Y/N) rolled her eyes, finding herself at the aforementioned empty table. “Anyone sitting here?”

Neville looked up, he was intently focusing on the silverware before him. “No, I guess not,” he smiled, allowing (Y/N) to sit. “Your boyfriend seems to be having a good time, chatting up all our friends.”

“He’s getting on my last nerve,” (Y/N) groaned, holding her head in her hands. “If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was just here to boast about himself to strangers with more distinguished accomplishments,” another groan. “He’s also not my boyfriend.”

“No? You seemed rather close,” Neville shrugged, watching the long haired wizard try to woo Molly Weasley. She turned away. “Trouble in paradise?”

“I had my suspicions before, but today is the nail in the coffin. I can’t believe I thought it was a good idea to bring him to the wedding.”

“You’re going to break up with him?”

“Can’t break up with someone if you never were together in the first place,” (Y/N) pointed. “But, yeah. I’ve been thinking about it.”

“Did you want to talk about it?” Neville asked, offering to listen.

“Not really,” (Y/N) admitted, letting her head rise. “But I would fancy a walk if you wanted to get some air?”

“Please,” Neville laughed. “I love Harry and Ginny, but parties like this are just not my style.”

“Tell me about it,” (Y/N) sighed, rising from her seat. Neville followed suit, exiting the banquet hall. “I would rather be cooped up in my office, alone with my cauldron. Not a care in the world.”

“You do tend to do that a bit,” Neville said, putting his hands in his pockets. “Are you working on anything new?” The courtyard outside of the banquet hall had a fresh dusting of snow, allowing the two to leave footprints behind.

“Still working on that batch of Felix Felicis,” she shrugged. “It’s probably the most complicated potion I’ve brewed. So fickle, needs constant attention,” (Y/N) kicked a small pebble. “I’ve also been working on my own potions, trying to make a name for myself as a potioneer, but I can’t quite figure any of it out.”

“Come on,” Neville scoffed. “You’ll be able to do it, I know you can,” he brushed the dusting of snow off of the bench, allowing for the two to sit. “Besides, even if you don’t, being Potions Master at Hogwarts is like, the highest honor a potioneer can have, yeah?”

“I suppose,” (Y/N) said, smoothing her dress skirt, ignoring the flush rising to her face. “It’s just so terribly difficult to make a name for myself when my predecessors are so… amazing. Horace Slughorn? Severus Snape?”

“Give it time,” Neville put a hand to her shoulder. “You need to remember that most potioneers didn’t have the pleasure to be taught by one of them, let alone both of them. You’re brighter than you know.”

“Wow,” (Y/N) sat, stunned by her friend’s words. “I guess I never thought about it like that.”

“Besides, Slughorn made you a part of the Slug Club sixth year, an elite gathering of the brightest and best students at Hogwarts,” he laughed. “The same club that hosted Harry Potter, the famed wizard.”

“He was collecting future favors, Nev,” (Y/N) smiled, recalling the club’s meetings. Lavish dinners, exquisite music. “He also kicked you out of the club for ‘not meeting his expectations’, which is hogwash,” she breathed deeply, her breath dancing away from her lips. “He just didn’t see what really matters.”

“You think?” Neville turned to look at (Y/N), now staring up at the stars. She nodded.

“Slughorn is terribly superficial, not really looking past the surface traits,” (Y/N) sat on her hands, trying to warm them up. “You know, he nearly threw a hissy-fit when I invited you to his Christmas party.”

“He did?” Neville asked, focusing on the constellations above them.

“I mean, don’t get me wrong, I would’ve loved to see you in that servers uniform,” (Y/N) laughed unashamed. “All distinguished and whatnot. Slughorn practically ignored me for almost two weeks after the party, like he disowned me as a student.” 

“I remember that,” Neville recalled. “Whenever you had your hand up, he called on Hermione or Harry instead, even if they didn’t have the slightest clue on the answer. I never knew it was because of that…”

“It happens,” (Y/N) ran a hand through her hair, annoyed by the way it was falling. “I swear, I should’ve brought an extra ribbon…”

“Maybe you can steal one from Lancelot,” Neville laughed, turning his attention over to the witch to his right. He coughed. “But, if you need one…” he dug into his pocket, fingers finding the silky patch of fabric he had been searching for.

(Y/N) glanced down, eyes finding the pink ribbon between his fingers. It wasn’t clean, dirt dusting the torn edges. It brought a sense of familiarity, almost as if she’d seen it before. “Where’d you get that?”

“I’ve been waiting for a good time to return it,” Neville said, holding it out to her. “Been carrying it around for five years.” 

“How did you…?”

“Happened to be at the right place at the right time,” Neville offered her the ribbon again, (Y/N) taking it gently in her hands. “You should wear your hair however you want, by the way, not just to please some bloke.”

“You’ve kept it?” (Y/N) asked, rubbing the silk with her thumb. It had to be the one she had lost during the battle. Why else would it be so dirty, so worn? “Why?”

“I mean, you’ve kept my jumper for seven years,” Neville laughed. “I could ask you the same question.”

“What?”

“My grey cardigan? From that day in Potions? I saw it on your dresser.”

“You went through my things?” (Y/N) asked, tone rising. “That’s a terrible invasion of privacy, Neville!”

“Invasion?” Neville said, matching her tone. “It was sitting next to that Honeydukes box, not exactly hidden from sight.”

(Y/N) stood up, now facing the Gryffindor fully. “Did you rifle through that too?” Her tone turned worried, only slightly. “Couldn’t help but snoop?”

“I didn’t snoop,” Neville responded, holding his hands in front of his chest, as if protecting himself. “Honest. You had it laying out—”

“—and you took a closer look at it!?”

“I’m not the one who kept something that wasn’t theirs for seven years,” Neville stood up, tired of being yelled at. “At least I was planning on giving the ribbon back!”

“You gave it to me,” she scoffed, rolling her eyes. “You said I could keep it—”

“—and I don’t regret it! I’m not accusing you of anything, (Y/N). You’re the one making a big deal out of this.”

“I’m making a big deal of this? Really?” (Y/N) pressed a finger to his chest. “You’re the one making a big deal of it, bringing up why I kept a gift? You kept a bloody ribbon of mine for no reason!”

“No reason?” Neville looked down at the finger on his chest, pushing it away. “I wanted to return it, but you ran off before I could. I didn’t see you for five years after-after—”

“—after what, Neville? Go on, spit it out,” (Y/N) crossed her arms, tipping her weight onto her left side.

“After you kissed me!” Neville practically screamed. “You kissed me and just… you just ran off,” his voice lowered, just for a moment. The wind died down, leaving a silence around the two.

“I didn’t know what else to do,” (Y/N) said coldly. “It was a mistake and I realized that the second I looked at you after the fact,” her face hardened, expression unmoving.

“Looked at me? You barely gave it a second before you ran off,” Neville replied, racking his memory. “You didn’t even think about what I could’ve been feeling in that moment, you just cared about yourself!”

“Here we go,” (Y/N) sighed. “It’s always about me, right? Sorry I ran off when my dad just died!”

“Can you shut it about your dad for five minutes?!” Neville didn’t mean to roar, the sound reverberating from the courtyard. Thankfully the party was still in full swing, the loud music echoing from the banquet hall. “Stop acting like you didn’t talk to me for five years was because of your dad! Yeah, he died. I’m sorry about that,” Neville found a moment of peace, clarity. “But you have to understand where my mind was at,” he sighed. “That was my first kiss, you know? You just ran off.”

(Y/N)’s face softened. “I didn’t know…”

“No, you didn’t,” Neville felt his hand run through his hair, covering it in a thin layer of gel. He had used too much. “I was royally crushed. My best mate kissed me and just ran off, never to be seen or heard from again. I tried to find you after, I did. I wanted to talk, but no one knew where you went."

“I went to the lake,” (Y/N) admitted. “Process my thoughts. My mum told me about my dad and I didn’t know what else to do,” she shrugged, rubbing her arms, now growing cold. “I finally went to go talk to you, but you were sitting with her, Luna. You looked happy, Nev. Happier than I had ever seen you,” tears pricked (Y/N)’s eyes, threatening to fall. “I knew that going to talk would mess that up for you, threaten that happiness you so desperately deserved. I did what I thought was best and just… left.”

“I was happy,” Neville admitted. “A war we had no option to be fighting in was over, for good. Damnit, (Y/N) of course I was happy.”

“I’m glad—”

“—but that’s just the thing, isn’t it? You did what you thought was best. Luna was my friend, she was there for me, she listened. You ran off at the first sign of danger, afraid of your feelings,” Neville seethed. “A terrible habit of yours, really.”

“So you’re not afraid of your feelings? That’s rich.”

“Of course I am, but I’ve learned to listen,” Neville said, feeling his back straighten. “Luna taught me that.”

“I bet she did,” (Y/N) hummed, hardly pleased with the mention of the Ravenclaw’s name. 

“She taught me a lot, (Y/N). I never regretted my relationship with Luna, she helped me realize what I needed in my life,” Neville said, digging deep in his throat to find the words.

“What you needed? Tell me, Neville, what did you need that Luna couldn’t give you?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” he flung his hand out, as if to prove a point. “I needed you, (Y/N).”

Silence.

(Y/N) couldn’t bring herself to look up from her shoes, couldn’t bring herself to look at her best mate, wearing his heart on his sleeve. “Past tense?” she mumbled, knowing that Neville couldn’t hear her. A part of her hoped he did.

“I thought it was, too,” Neville admitted, hearing every word. “Past tense, that is. But after seeing that you kept my cardigan, a foolish part of me thought that maybe, just maybe, you felt that way about be at some point. Hell, maybe you felt that way now…” (Y/N)’s expression was unchanged, still looking at her shoes. “But you started dating that-that prick—”

“Who told me to go for it!?” (Y/N) finally shouted, tears dripping from her face, voice dripping with venom. “You’re the one who told me to ask him out, so I did. You told me to go through with taking him to the wedding, so I did—”

“You didn’t have to listen!”

“Would you stop shouting at me?!” (Y/N) shouted, almost ironically.

“Bloody hell, here I am, trying to tell you that I love you and all you can do is ask me to stop shouting!? Honestly, (Y/N), sometimes you really surprise me—”

It was then a familiar feeling danced across his lips, forcibly and fast, effectively shutting him up. The same feeling from five years ago.

She kissed him.

__

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Neville Longbottom Tag List: @readerbandit​

#neville longbottom x reader #neville longbottom #neville longbottom x you #harry potter #harry potter x reader #oopsiesss #these two i swear #maybe they should just... idk... /figure it out/ #if you know what... i .... mean #(eyes)

[heathsbitch]

Treat You Better ➳ PEAKY BLINDERS

xi. IMPURITY*

          Ivy's eyes opened to a burning light. Heat flickered over her body. The fire was lit. The room was silent apart from the occasional crackle of burning wood. She groaned, trying to sit up from her position on the sofa. "Don't. You need to rest." A soft voice told her. Turning her head, Ivy saw Polly sat next to the girl, her hand on her shoulder. She pushed Ivy back down onto the couch. Tear stains ran under her eyes. "What happened?" Ivy asked her. "They took him." Polly choked out, the tears threatening to come pouring out again. Then Ivy remembered, Michael got arrested. "Are you okay?" Ivy reached her hand up to caress Polly's cheek. She nodded silently and took her hand in her own. "It's getting late, you should head up to bed." With her other hand, she caressed the girl's hair. "Only if you're okay." Again, she silently nodded. Slowly, Ivy sat up from the couch and swung her legs to place her feet on the floor. She raised her arms and embraced Polly in a warm hug, "We'll get him back, Pol. I promise." She let out a sob but stopped herself almost immediately. "Go." She laughed lightly and she ushered the Solomons upstairs.

Ivy woke up to Polly gently shaking her, "We have to go and see Tommy. He's called us all in for a meeting." It only took the girl ten minutes to get dressed and ready to go to Tommo's house. In no time, they were in the car and on the way to Small Heath. They all waited in the gaming den. Esme, John, Polly, Finn and Ivy silently waited for Tommo to arrive. Apparently he was visiting Ivy's mother. He had probably slept with her, Tom had that type of reputation around him. As long as there was no serious relationship there, Ivy had nothing to worry about. As much as she liked Thomas, she didn't want him to be her step-father. Polly puffed on a cigarette, Esme stared out of the window, John sat quietly at a desk and Finn paced anxiously. Ivy had been told by John that Arthur had also been taken, along with Michael. "I-I shouldn't be here," The girl muttered. "This is a family meeting and I'm not family." Nobody objected to her ideas, so she began to leave. "Ivy, wait!" Finn chased after the girl but before she could leave, the door opened and in stepped Tommy. "Where do you think you're going?" He grabbed her arms and dragged her back inside. "I don't belong here Tommo. This is a family meeting and I'm not family."

"Stay," Was all he said. And so Ivy did. She took her place next to Finn and he grabbed the girl's hand. His lips turned up at the corners to show sympathy. "John?" Thomas asked for a report on what had happened last night. "The coppers have lifted ten of our men in Camden Town. The rest are on the run."

"They've taken Michael." Finn told his older brother. Ivy decided that it would be best if she stayed quiet, she still didn't feel comfortable there. "Business first." Thomas informed Finn. "They took Michael-" Polly stormed over to her nephew but he interrupted her. "Business first." He repeated. They started to talk over each other and Tommy eventually had to shout at her. "Polly, business first!" Polly stayed quiet, her hands tied in front of her. He turned back to his brother. "John?"

"They took all our whiskey, so they'll be sipping that for Christmas. They've impounded all our vans, put their own locks on the warehouse. The Eden club and all our pubs have been raided by the coppers and handed back to Sabini and Solomons." At the mention of her father's name, Ivy apologised. "Tommo, I'm sorry ab-"

"You don't need to apologise for what your father's done." Tommy turned back to John to urge him to continue again. "The Black Country boys think it was Arthur who killed Billy Kitchen 'cause that's what the coppers told them. So there'll be no more free passes for our whiskey boats." Polly walked forward and began to rant to her nephews. "I don't care about whiskey. I don't give a fuck about Billy Kitchen. I want my son out of prison! Now!" Esme stepped forward, wanting to continue with business. Tommo stayed quiet. "I spoke to Johnny Dogs."

"This meeting should be just family." Polly spat. Ivy began to feel even more out of place than she had before. "Then what's Ivy doing here? Besides, I can help." Esme defended. "I'll just go." The girl mumbled and started to leave while Polly and Esme had their argument. She pulled herself from Finn's grasp and went to walk out the door. "Let her speak," Thomas shouted so Esme could have her say. Polly shouted over her nephews orders, clearly annoyed at the fact that they weren't doing anything to save her son. Ivy could understand her pain. "Enough! Enough, Polly. Ivy, stay. Esme?" Finn tugged the Solomons back into his arms. He stood behind her, his body towering over the girl's small frame. His arms rested on her shoulders and connected around her front, her hands held his.

"I spoke to Johnny Dogs, the Lees are kin." Esme spoke in a calm voice. "The bloody Lees!" Polly yelled. "They can give us men!" Esme's voice raised, Polly was started to anger her. "We don't need more fucking men!" Polly spat. "It's men that have done the damage," She did have a good point, but they weren't all to blame. She quietened her voice to continue speaking, "It is men fighting like cockerels that have got us here in the first place." Thomas stared at Polly, then ignored Polly's long remark and spoke to Esme. "Esme, we'll take up their offer. We need men." He looked at Polly at the end of his sentence. The room was silent. Polly and Thomas very rarely argued so this was a shock to them all. Michael was changing her. She was becoming more cautious, more protective of her family. "If Michael ever gets out of prison, I am taking him away from this family. For good. You too Ivy, you're one of us now," Polly walked around to stand in front of Finn and Ivy, speaking about how 'this life is bad'. Polly grabbed their arms and led them out of the betting shop. "This life is all bad." Tommo didn't protest. But Finn did, slightly. "Aunt Pol, what are you doing?" He asked his aunt. "Shut up and walk." She instructed the pair.

Polly led them outside of the house and to where the cars were waiting. "Don't take any orders from Tommy while I'm gone." She began to put her coat and hat on. "Where are you going?" Ivy questioned her. "To save Michael." And with that, she left. Straight into her own car without another word. Ivy sighed and lent against the cold, brick wall of the house. "Are you alright?" She bobbed her head to Finn's question. "Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" The girl said with a small smile. The truth was, she wasn't alright. Ivy didn't know what it was, but ever since she had seen her mum, she hadn't felt like she'd fitted in. There was just something putting her off. Or maybe it was something pulling her back towards her mum and brother. Or maybe it was her father, the guilt finally starting to eat her up. She couldn't be sure, though. "I know when you're lying, Doll." Finn told the girl. Ivy sighed again but defended herself, "I'm not lying." She kept her eyes trained on the other side of the street. "Yes you are. You're not looking at me and whenever you lie, you can't keep eye contact."

"That's not true." Ivy turned to look at the boy but her gaze danced along the cars behind him. "Yes it is! You're doing it now!" He laughed when he spoke. "What's wrong?" Finn moved to grab her hand to try and console her. "I just don't belong here, with you, with the Shelbys." He got closer to Ivy. "What do you mean?" She took a deep breath and let out all of her thoughts and feelings to her best friend. "It's just ever since I saw my mother again, I've felt like I don't belong here. Things have changed for me. Maybe it's Michael, I don't know, but something feels different. I'm constantly on edge and all I want to do is cry but I don't know why. I just want to see my mum and brother again but if I left here, I'd feel bad for leaving you. But, you probably wouldn't care anyway."

Her heart rate increased ten-fold as she ranted to Finn and tears crawled out of her eyes and down her porcelain cheeks. "Ivy, of course I would care," He pulled her into a hug and she began to cry into his shoulder. "Of course I would care," Finn repeated in Ivy's ear. She had noticed that he could handle a girl having an emotional breakdown a lot better than he did the first time. Maybe he had been talking with Ada or even Polly. "You do belong here. You fit in better than I ever could and will. You're brave and so, so strong. You're fucking incredible, Ivy and everyone here cares for you, everyone. Please, don't leave." His voice cracked at his last words. "Thank you, Finn." They pulled out of the hug but he kept his hands on her shoulders. "I didn't even know that you had seen your mum." He informed the girl. "We haven't spoken properly in a while." Ivy told him. "I should take you back home. That's what Polly would've wanted. You can tell me everything in the car," He stood up and walked to the car. "If you're alright with telling me, that is."

"Yes, that's fine." She laughed and got into his car.

The journey back to the house in Sutton was filled with her telling Finn everything that had happened in the past few days, leaving out everything that had happened with Mickey. Ivy decided that Finn should not know about that, not now and, maybe, never. Pulling her keys out of her jacket pocket, she slid them into the door and walked inside, Finn close behind her. "Ivy, I have something to tell you." Worry filled the Solomons. She lightly touched his arm "What's wrong?" She asked.

"Nothing," Finn laughed at the girl's concern "I just wanted to tell you that I learnt the alph-the alphabet." They sat down on the sofa together. "That's amazing, Finn. Can you recite it to me?" He nodded but hesitated. "A. B. C. D. E. F. G. H. I . J .K . L, M, N, O? P?" Ivy beamed at him, urging him to continue. "Q. R. S. T. U. V. W. X. Y and Z." He took little pauses between each letter but got it perfect. "Perfect, well done Finn." He looked proud of himself and wore a smile across his plump lips. "Do you think you're ready for the poem now?" Finn agreed to her suggestion pulled it out of his own pocket. He carefully handed it to Ivy "I'll read it first and then I want you to copy and remember it, okay?" He nodded again, complying to her instructions. She began to read the story to him, memories of her as a child and her father came flooding into her mind but she tried to push them away.

"They went to sea in a sieve they did, in a sieve they went to sea. In spite of all their friends could say, on a winter's morn, on a stormy day, in a sieve they went to sea. Far and few, far and few are the lands where the jumblies live. Their heads are green and their hands are blue. And they went to sea in a sieve."

Ivy read it slowly and made sure to sound out all of the words and syllables properly. Finn stared at her as she read the poem. She finished and looked up at him. His gaze was intense yet warm. "N-now you try." Ivy stuttered, her voice barely a whisper. The Solomons girl stared back at the Shelby boy. The gap between them got smaller and smaller as their bodies got closer to one another. His eyes fluttered shut and hers followed suit. Their faces were millimeters apart, their breathing fanning each other's faces.

But the moment was ruined by the door creaking open signifying that Polly was home. They jumped away from each other, their breathing heavy. Polly came into the living room, her make-up was running down her face as were tears, Ada along with her. "Pol, shit. Are you okay?" Ivy immediately got up from her seat and engulfed Polly in a hug. Slowly, Ivy ran her hand through her hair to comfort her, similar to how she had comforted the girl last night after she'd passed out. Ada turned to Finn, "Finn, you should go home, we can take it from here."

"Alright." And with that he left. Ivy led Polly to the sofa and sat her down carefully. "Do you want to talk about it?" She asked cautiously. Pol shook her head slightly so Ivy decided not to ask anymore questions about that. "Do you want me to run a bath?" She looked incredibly stressed out and Ivy thought that baths were a good way to help you relax and calm down. Ivy led Polly up the stairs. Pol sat down on the sofa whilst Ivy filled the bath up with hot water. "It's ready. I can leave if you want."

"No, stay. But can you get me some whiskey, please?" Polly croaked out. Ivy smiled, it was good to hear her speak. "Of course." When she came back into the room, the Shelby woman was in the bath and running her hands up her arms. Ivy handed her the bottle of whiskey and a glass that she had grabbed from the kitchen. "Thank you." She took the bottle and glass off of the girl and poured some out. Ivy sat down on the chair that was in there and awkwardly stared at the woman. She tried to keep her eyes off of her, the girl wanted Polly to keep her dignity.

An unknown amount of time passed before Ivy heard the door open and close. She turned around to see who it was. "Where have you been?" Ada asked her aunt. She came and sat down next to the Solomons and gave her a small smile. Ivy thought Ada must've picked her up from wherever she was, rather than being with her the whole time. "I went to the Spotted Dog in Digbeth," She told the girls. "For a glass or two of rum." She was clearly feeling more relaxed than what she was earlier. "Was it one glass or two?" Ada asked Polly. "It was three. Where's the baby?" Ivy had had the privilege of meeting Karl a couple of weeks ago. She thought he was the cutest little thing ever and he reminded her of how much she wanted her brother back.

"Sleeping." Polly hummed as a response. "Are you sure it wasn't five?" Ivy lightly joked with Polly and Ada let out a small giggle. "It was more like six." She chuckled softly. Ada looked more concerned than anything at that point. Polly reached for the whiskey that the girl had given her. Maybe it wasn't such a good idea to get her that. "Did you meet the maid?" Polly asked as she leaned back in the bath. "I talked politics with her and she got bored and went to bed." Ivy let out a faint laugh at Ada's words and she lightly tapped her arm to scold her in a joking manner. Polly laughed and lit a cigarette as Ada continued to talk. "I called James. He talked to the lawyer anyway. Said he'd take Arthur's case for free, so we don't need Tommy." Pol let out a heavy breath at the mention of Tommo. "Pol," Ivy started. "We'll get Michael out as well, I promise." She reassured her and looked towards Ada. "There's no need, they'll let him out in the morning." She told them. "What? Why? What did you do?" Ivy fired her questions at Polly but she didn't answer any of them. "If the baby wants anything at night, ring the bell by the bed. She gets paid to work 24 hours that girl, she's getting lazy,"

Polly continued to take drags from her cigarette "Well, take advantage of her." Ada stared at her aunt, a mix of emotions ran through her head as they did with Ivy's. Ada got up and left, the girl followed shortly behind. "I hope you're alright." She said to Polly as she left.Ivy found Ada in the living room, nursing a glass of wine. "So what are you doing here?" She asked her, nobody had told the girl anything about her coming to stay. "I'm staying for a while. To help with the whole Arthur situation since Tommy's not going to be much of a help."

"Fair enough." Ivy went into the kitchen to grab another glass then went back to where Ada was and poured herself a drink. "Are you old enough to drink?" She joked with the girl whilst she sat down. "Really?" Ivy let out a laugh. "So," She began and leaned back in her chair. "You and Finn, eh?" She immediately put her defenses up. Surely she didn't know about the alley or what happened barely ten minutes ago. "What do you mean me and Finn?" She shook her head and smiled. "You know what I mean."

"We're just friends." Ivy told her. "Mmm, 'friends'. You know, he talks about you all the time." The young girl sipped her wine slowly. "No he doesn't." Ada laughed again and sipped her own wine. "Yes he does. A couple of weeks ago, when Tommy was in the hospital and he held you back, he would not shut up about you and you had only just met." Ivy blushed at her words, she only ever thought of them as friends but things were beginning to rapidly change between them. "I think he really likes you. He's never, really, been close to any girls before. You're the first one."

"Oh, I feel so honoured." Ivy said sarcastically. "I know it's probably not my business but I think you like him back." She shook her head, denying Ada's accusations. "No, no, definitely not." She chuckled at the girl's reaction. "Yes, you do! You giggle at all his jokes, blush when somebody mentions his name and you get really defensive when somebody brings up the fact that you might like him!" Ivy downed the rest of her wine and stood up from the couch. "I am going to bed. Goodnight Ada." Ada laughed at her bluntness. "You never answered my question," Ivy stuck her middle finger up as she walked out. "You loooove him." Ada teased as Ivy walked up the stairs and to her room.

The truth was that Ivy didn't know how she felt about Finn. Like Ada said, Finn had never been close to any girls before. Well, Ivy had never been close to any guys before. She didn't know whether she 'liked' him or not. They were friends, that almost had sex in alley way. But, they were drunk and it didn't mean anything. They were friends, that always held hands. But, he was just being supportive, nothing more. They were friends, that had almost kissed. But, there was no excuse that time. Ivy cast the thoughts aside as she got dressed for bed. She slipped her mint, silk nightgown on and got into bed. Her mind was filled with anxious thoughts of Polly. She was curious as to what happened but Ivy had to respect her privacy as well. She just hoped she was okay.

Ivy slept in late the next day. She didn't have to work for Thomas so she was free for the day. Ada had gone out to work on her plan of rescuing Arthur and Polly had gone to pick Michael up so Ivy was all alone in the house. Worry filled the girl, she didn't know how Michael was going to act when he got home. Would he be soft and kind? Or rude and mean? She decided it would probably be the latter.

The Solomons decided to help out the maid with some basic house-work. Polly called her lazy but she was up all night helping with Karl so Ivy thought she would clean the house while the maid and the baby got some rest. She walked from room to room, tidying up and dusting the place. It was spotless by the time she had finished. Then the door opened. A dark figure stood at the doorway, he didn't move, he didn't speak. He just stood there, a cigarette hanging loosely from his lips. He moved into the light, Michael. But he looked different. Cuts and scratches ran across his face and probably continued onto his chest as well. "You're going to need those cuts cleaning. You don't want them to get infected." Ivy knew he wouldn't care for sentiment so she got straight down to business. Her voice was quiet though, he still intimidated the girl, even in the vulnerable situation he was in. Ivy could see Polly standing behind him, her hand on her mouth. "You should let her help, Michael. Seriously you do-"

"Alright." He agreed bluntly. Ivy gave Polly a look but asked Michael to follow her upstairs and to her room. "Just sit on my bed; I'll be back in a minute." Ivy left him in her room as she went to get a bucket of water, a clean cloth and some alcohol. Walking back into the room, her eyes landed on her boss. He sat on the end of the girl's bed, hunched over and staring at his bloody knuckles whilst a cigarette rested in the other hand. The slightly rusty bucket sat on the floor next to her as Ivy started to clean up Michael's wounds. She was resting on her knees, in between his legs. Her hands dipped into the bucket of lukewarm water to soak the cloth. She cleaned his knuckles first. The blood resting there probably wasn't his which meant that he had been fighting in prison. Her heart sank as Ivy looked over him again.

Seeing him in pain scared her, she didn't know how he would react. Raising her hand up to his face, she carefully wiped away the dried blood. He winced, indicating his wounds were fresh so Ivy took more caution.

She cleaned more and more of the blood away, leaving his face free from the red stain, only the fresh cuts were left. The water in the bucket had turned into a strange shade of crimson from the blood. His shirt had become damp around his neck from the water droplets that ran off of him.

"I need you to take off your shirt." She whispered timidly "What? I didn't catch that, princess." Michael responded, his accent seemingly thicker than usual. He was teasing her because of how quiet she was. Michael knew he made the girl nervous, ever since that day in the office. And even when injured, he continued to flirt with the girl. Ivy's legs stiffened as she stood up. Before speaking, she wiped her hands on her long skirt, "I need you to remove your shirt." The girl repeated, louder this time. The expression on his face didn't change as his, now clean, hands lifted up to the buttons on his shirt. He gradually undid his shirt then threw it to the other side of the room.

His hands rested on his knees, a pose that granted him so much power and dominance. Ivy's eyes burned into his body. Muscles lined his light skin. For somebody who had come from a fairly tame life, he had a very toned body. The Solomons took a second to recompose herself, Michael stared at her. Ivy got back on her knees in front of him. He leaned back a little bit so she could have more access to his chest. Her hands entered the bucket once more. Timidly, Ivy reached up to his torso so she could clean him. He groaned under her touch. A wave of worry washed over the girl, she didn't want him to hurt her. "Sorry." She apologised and put a hand on his knee so she could balance herself. "It's alright, princess," He soothed Ivy with his words. "Don't worry about hurting me." After cleaning the wounds on his chest with water, Ivy reached for the bottle of alcohol. "This is gonna hurt like a bitch so brace yourself."

"Nothing's worse than mum on a bad day. Just go slowly, please." He joked to ease some tension and Ivy giggled in response. She knew all too well what Polly could be like on a bad day. A small smile rested upon his lips but quickly disappeared when he noticed the girl looking at him smiling. Ivy pulled the cork out of the bottle of alcohol and poured some onto a fresh cloth. "Here, you might want a swig of this before I start." Handing over the bottle, he took a couple of gulps and put it onto the bedside table. The girl placed the cloth onto the large gash that ran across his chest. A cry of pain erupted from his throat and he grabbed onto her wrist, he had a grip so tight that would definitely bruise later on. "Fuck!" He cried out. "I'm sorry, I'm sorry." Ivy apologised profusely and pulled away, "No," He shouted, "Keep going." He pushed her hand onto his chest and she put her other one on his knee. Her face was only millimeters from his.

She could feel his heavy breath fanning her face. "Done. I'm done." Ivy exclaimed as she finished cleaning his injuries. Michael's grasp on her wrist loosened a little bit but he still held it against his chest, Ivy had dropped the cloth so it no longer held a barrier between them. Their breathing mingled with each other, sweat covered his body.

Silence settled on the room. It wasn't awkward though, it was comfortable, soothing almost. "Are you okay?" Ivy broke the silence. Michael groaned, "Yeah," He pulled away from the girl and let go of her wrist. Both of her hands now rested on his knees, she was still squished in between his legs. His eyes met hers. They held warmth and comfort, yet anger at the same time. They flickered between her lips and her own eyes. Getting closer to Ivy's face, Michael cupped her cheek with his hand. A tingling sensation flew across her body. His lips met hers. He kissed her. She couldn't believe what had happened so her grip on his knees just tightened.

Their lips danced together, teeth clashing. Then he slipped his tongue into her mouth. Something that had started out as just an innocent kiss was escalating quickly. Ivy moaned into his mouth and he pulled her closer. Michael was sitting on the edge of the bed, her chest pressed into his crotch. That's when she felt it, a hard object pressing into her breasts. Ivy's heart furiously thumped against her chest, she was scared he could feel it. The girl thought nothing more of the item that was flush against her and focused on the kiss. He moaned and pulled away from her. One string of spit connected their mouths together. He laughed and swiped it from her lips.

Looking down at the hardness between his legs, "Look what you did to me. Look how crazy you drive me," Both of his hands cradled Ivy's face and he stared into her eyes yet again. "I have something to confess, Ivy. I quite like you," She knelt there in silence as he continued to confess to her.

"You're bad that's what I like. You've got a darkness inside of you, just like me. You're not afraid to speak up or argue your point. You're not scared of no one. I bet Tommy doesn't even scare ya'," Ivy was stunned, she didn't know what to say so she stayed quiet. "You're dangerous," He whispered, "And so am I," His eyes came back to meet hers and a smirk grew onto his face "Being in prison changed me. I learned that it's okay to let the darkness take over. I'm not as bad as Tommy, by no means, but I'm sure I could still show you a good time. Even better than he could." He whispered the last part of his speech in her ear. That's what sent Ivy over the edge. She could feel herself pooling in her knickers. He chuckled as he noticed the effect he had on the girl. He was starting to scare her though. Ivy had seen what Michael was capable of doing. "Come 'ere, doll." Then he kissed her again, with even more passion that time. His tongue trailed her lips, a moan falling out in the process. Michael pulled away, again. "Now let's do something about this shall we." He gestured to the hard-on he was nursing in his trousers. "Mickey," He groaned at his nickname. "I-I've never done this before."

"It's alright. I'll help you." He comforted Ivy. Her shaking hands undid the button on his trousers, pulling them down. He lifted up so she could fully remove them. The bulge was now in her face. A whimper tumbled from her lips as Ivy took his boxers off. Ivy thought Mickey noticed her staring, "I know, I know. Don't worry, princess." He reassured her. Hands slipping into her hair, he pushed her closer to his cock. Ivy lifted her own hands and grabbed onto it. She stroked it a couple of times before bringing it to her mouth. As they made contact, a loud, "Fuuck." came from Michael's mouth. Ivy bobbed her head up and down his shaft, trying to fit all of it in her mouth. Once Michael managed to focus again he told her what to do next. "Put this hand here." He took one of the girl's hands off of his large cock and guided it to his balls. She rolled them in her hand as she continued to work her mouth around his length.

Moans and groans fell from his lips like a prayer, her name coming off of them like a chant. "Shit, princess. Are you sure you've never done this before?" This comment encouraged her to go harder, and faster. Ivy's mouth furiously sucked his cock, her hand taking what her mouth couldn't.

A particularly loud groan elicited from his mouth and he pushed her head into his crotch. It was Ivy's turn to whimper. Michael's hands gripped and tugged at the Solomons' hair, turning her on even more. Her panties were definitely soaked. Ivy closed her eyes as Mickey began to thrust into her mouth. Gags came fast from her, his cock stretching her mouth and her throat, the sound echoing through the small room. "Fuck, I'm close, Ivy." He warned the girl as he continued to thrust mercilessly into her oesophagus. She was still deep-throating him when he came. Warm, white liquid dripped down her throat. He drew his member out of Ivy's mouth. Spit and cum was attached to it and it hung between his dick and her throat. "You look so pretty like that. Dirty little slut," He complimented then degraded the girl.

Hands gripping onto Ivy's waist, Michael pulled her up so she was now standing. "This isn't fair, is it?" He pointed out the fact that the girl was still fully clothed. Veiny hands gradually undid the buttons on her shirt. He then turned her around so he could unzip her skirt. Michael slapped Ivy's ass and spun her back around. "Fuck." He groaned again as he took in her half naked appearance. A black lace bra covered the girl's breasts, a matching set of panties with stockings and garters rested on her body. It was one of the sets that Ada and Ivy bought for her birthday. He moved his hands again, this time tracing her bra strap and pulling it from her shoulder. He was now standing up, towering over the girl. Mickey kissed Ivy's neck, sucking a purple mark onto it. He moved to the other side and did the same thing, traveling to her clavicle after he finished. Unclipping her bra, he ripped it from the girl. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, "I like these." He remarked and moved to her panties. They were stood there, completely naked, bodies burning for each other. They could easily be caught at any moment, but that fact only spurred Michael on more.

He sat down and pulled Ivy onto his lap. Their lips met again for a final kiss as he moved his fingers to cup her pussy. He ran a finger across her slit. "Dirty girl. So wet for your boss." He purred in the girl's ear. A high-pitched squeal came from her throat. He slid a finger inside. "Mickey." Ivy whined. He immediately pulled out. "No. You address me as Boss or Sir," She stayed silent so he wrapped his hand around her throat. "Am I understood?" Michael whispered in Ivy's ear. She nodded her head furiously. "Good girl." He lined himself up with her pussy and pulled the girl onto his length. A whine of euphoria lept from Ivy and she clenched onto Mickey's shoulders for support. He wrapped one arm around her waist and the other around her shoulders.

She bounced, slowly at first so she could get used to the sheer size of Michael. "Fuck, you're so tight," Michael groaned in Ivy's ear. Moans filled the room yet again, coming from the both of them. "Can I go harder?" Michael asked and Ivy giggled at the fact that he was asking permission after everything they'd already done that night. "Yeah." was her reply. He brought his hand back to her throat and squeezed once again. "What was that?" Ivy whined at the pressure on her neck. "Yes, Sir." He groaned at the name. "That's better." He released his hand and moved them to her hips. He moved the girl faster, his thrusts matching the speed of her bounces. Ivy's head was thrown back by the pleasure Michael was giving to her. With no warning, Michael threw Ivy onto the mattress underneath him so he could be in control. "Mic-Sir!" She cried out, her eyes rolling into the back of her head. His thrusts hit the girl's core, sparks flying between the two of them.

His head rested in the crook of her neck, the feeling getting to him as well. That position didn't last long though. He sat up and pulled one of her legs over his shoulder. Michael's hands kept him steady at either side of her head as he plunged into Ivy's pussy. "You feel so good, princess." He bellowed. The maid was definitely awake by now and could definitely hear the pair but that only fuelled him more. "Mickey. I think I-I'm close." Ivy stuttered "Just hold on a little longer for me, Ivy." Michael's pace doubled. He was now reaching parts of Ivy that she didn't even know she had. She screamed in ecstasy. Michael pushed his hand to her throat and squeezed. He didn't squeeze extremely hard, just the right amount of pressure. Her eyes fluttered shut. Michael leaned in to whisper in Ivy's ear, "Open your eyes, angel; I wanna see you fall apart." That sent the girl flying forward, clutching onto his body. A wave of euphoric pleasure crashed over Ivy. Her nails dragged over Mickey's back, leaving marks that would probably be there for the next few days. It was Michael's turn next. "Shit!" He shouted in her ear as he reached his own climax. He pulled out and furiously rubbed his cock. Ropes of hot cum shot out of it, his hand slowly bringing him down from his own high. He reached for one of the clean cloths and cleaned the two of them up, ridding Ivy of the evidence of that night's activities.

He collapsed on top of her. After a couple minutes of blissful silence, he rolled off of the girl and pulled her into his chest. Sweat glazed his body, his beautiful eyes were closed and small huffs were leaving his nose. He looked perfect. Michael pulled a blanket over them, just in case anyone did walk in. He pulled her into his body and cradled the girl in his arms. Everything hurt but Ivy didn't care. That sex was incredible and she had just lost her virginity, to her boss. Tommo would kill her if he found out, and so would Polly, but Ivy didn't care, she craved Michael.

"That was pretty good for your first time, princess."

xii. THE REUNION

MASTERLIST

#finn shelby #harry kirton #michael gray #finn cole #smut #fluff #angst #peaky blinders #tommy shelby #alfie solomons #treat you better

[lady-griffin]

So, I just saw Birds of Prey (and the Fantabulous Emancipation of One Harley Quinn)

Really fun and very enjoyable. It’s a pretty great movie in my opinion and is just a fun “superhero” movie.

I feel like the word “fun” kind of undercuts this movie, but it really was fun and just a good film to watch. 

I had a great time.

And I feel like you can tell this movie was clearly written and directed by women with women in mind. Which as a woman, I greatly enjoyed. 

I’m sure this movie will probably rub some guys the wrong way, just because of that alone, but honestly it’s a good movie. I don’t think it alienates men or discourages them from watching it or enjoying it. 

If you can’t enjoy this movie, because the characters aren’t “sexy” enough, then that’s on you.

And speaking of that. The Outfits.

Harley Queen and Black Canary have style, I want their clothes. Oh my god, do I want their clothes. Just so stylish and it works with who they are as characters. 

Cassandra, Renee and Huntress have clothing that looks comfortable and works with their characters as well, and Renee and Cassandra’s clothes really makes them look like actual people and normal woman.

Which is nice! I like it when you have female characters who clearly are different and dress differently. It feels ridiculous when you have a show or movie or comic, where you're suppose to believe all these “very different” female characters all love wearing supery sexy stuff all the time. 

I’m not against ladies dressing sexy, but it has to fit with the character and not just cause of the male gaze. 

Also Roman/Black Mask gets some serious style points. 

Bird of Prey is a fun, violent movie wear badass ladies beat and murder their way through Gotham City. Go and see it. 

It comes highly recommended by this random internet chick.

Also, there isn’t an after-credit scene just a Harley Quinn voice over. The music is good in the credits, so if you want to stay, you can, but honestly you can skip it. 

Spoilers Below

The movie does make a few choices that bug me. You know how in Suicide Squard, they spent like the first 30 minutes (maybe more) introducing characters. 

This movie does that too. Kind of. 

Honestly, now that I think about it, it does work a lot better here. Much better than I was initially thinking.

For one thing, the way the characters are introduced works with the plot and what’s happening and overall are pretty quick. For the main characters it’s fine. But Harley and her narrative kind of introduces everyone and their cousin.

But unlike Suicide Squad, this movie doesn’t stop everything to introduce a character with like a 2-3 minute character trailer/ad. 

It’s not awul or anything, but I could’ve lived without it. It worked well and was humorous at times, but it did bug me to a certain degree. 

And on that note, Harley has kind of Deadpool thing with her narration. I just think it was the wrong balance for this movie, it should’ve been in the movie either some more or some less and it probably would’ve worked better. It just seemed a bit off to me. 

I kind of wished Harley’s narration was just in the beginning and in the end. 

But let’s get into the characters

Harley Quinn/Dr. Harleen Quinzel

If you enjoyed her in Suicide Squad, you will definitely enjoy her here. She’s fun, she’s wacky, she’s violent and crazy, and she does have a bit of a heart. She has a soft-spot for the kid. 

It’s definitely Harley’s show. But I’m not mad at it. I think without Harley no way this movie (with the other characters) would’ve been greenlit. No way. But now, maybe...I’m certainly not oppose to the idea.

So while Margot Robbie is definitely making sure the spotlight is on Harley Quinn, the light does get shared. 

Also her action scenes were so good, I mean she really gets to shine and it’s just awesome. Really amazing action scenes that really do the character justice I think, truly some amazing fight choregraophy. Just Excellent. 

And honestly I just want a Gotham Sirens movie with her, Poison Ivy and Catwoman even more now. 

Oh, and while not Bud and Lou, I love me some Bruce and Harley. 

Black Canary/Dinah Lance

If anyone has watched Arrow and has been annoyed, frustrated, angry or sadden how that version Black Canary is not like Black Canary at all. Then I think you will love Jurnee Smollett-Bell’s Canary. 

I certainly did. 

She’s not the star, but she has a nice on-going story of how she doesn’t want to follow in mother’s footsteps of being a dead hero. Basically she doesn’t want to get involved in anyone’s bullshit, but can’t help herself or is force to get involved. 

They have a scene where they hammer that in a bit too hard. It was unnecessary, I felt like just by watching her scenes you get her story, without the details. 

She has some amazing style. She wears a few suits and boy not only do I want her wardrobe but also goddamn, was she sexy. You can see why Zsasz was nervous about her stealing his boss/lover away. 

I mean really the only negative thing I can say, is that she makes me hold a grudge against the Arrow show, because their version of Black Canary has got nothing on this one. 

I would love to see more of her. 

Huntress/ Helena Bertinelli

I greatly enjoy Huntress or the Crossbow Killer (loved that). I would say out of the other ladies (minus Harley obvi), she really does hold her own and her story while is as interconnected as everyone else’s to the main story, it just pops a bit more. 

A badass assasin murdering mob bosses/ goons to avenge her family, who also happens to be one social awkward baby.

Loved that dichotomy. I laughed several times at that. Just great stuff. 

It’s hard stricking the right balance in having a badass character and scenes/moments that undercut them for humor. And they struck it here. Really well done. 

She was such a delight. 

Really Mary-Elizabeth Winstead does such a great job as Huntress.

Other versions of her character don’t really seem to get the whole wanting to murder everyone who was responsible for her family’s death, in my opinion, because they also want her to be sexy. Here sexy isn’t really her thing and that’s more than okay with me. 

The other birds think she’s a badass and I bet every other women (and hopefully some men) in the audience think so too. 

I certainly want to see more of her, especially with Black Canary. 

Also this Black Canary and Huntress and their dynamic come so close to ousting my favorite versions of them from Justice League: Unlimited. Which is a big compliment. 

Renee Montoya

A cop with some serious issues, who maybe isn’t doing her best and probably has a drinking problem, but she’s trying okay. She’s trying. 

She’s an intelligent detective who knows her shit and does not get the respect she deserves from her colleagues. Due to combination of both sexism and her own personal problems. Luckily for her she found some new colleages who have their own issues. 

I certainly enjoyed that her problems at works seemed to be a combination of sexism at the work place, but not entirely, Renee is flawed. Wonderfully so. 

Rosie Perez brings the more human element to this movie with her Renee and is a nice grounded contrast to the others. It’s also nice seeing her more grounded style of fighting. 

Sometimes the scenes with her weren’t great. They sometimes felt forced, particulary the one with her and Canary and her trying to convince Canary to be like her mom. I could’ve lived without that.

That being said the movies has fun, pointing fun at her and basically saying she’s an 80s cop movie come to life. Which I liked. 

Cassandra Cain

I like the character, don’t get me wrong, but this is not Cassandra Cain. And it does bother me as a huge Batman Comic fan. It just does.

I feel like they should’ve based her on some minor character from the comics or hell just created a new character. BTAS did that with Harley Quinn in 1992, so why the fuck not.

That would’ve worked so much better in my opinion. Sometimes rewriting a character works, here it feels odd. Because I don’t get why they decided to call this character Cassandra Cain.

Honestly, remove the Cain part from her name and you have a great little apprentice for Harley, who brings her own moxy to the table.

Ella Jay Basco does a great job holding her own as a screen partner against Margot Robbie. And she did such a good job protraying a street kid who thinks she can handle shit, to a scare kid who is way over head. 

It was nice watching all these badass ladies keeping an eye out for Cassandra.

The characters reminds me a lot of Jade from Jackie Chan: Adventures. I mean both characters eat a valuable object and a bunch of bad people are willing to cut them open. Just saying. 

If you’re a big fan of Cassandra Cain, I would suggest just ignoring the times they say her full name and try to think of her as a different character, named Cassandra. 

Roman Sionis/ Black Mask

A murdering psychopath who thinks everyone and everything belongs to him. He’s power-hungry, cruel, violent and sadistic and is plenty messed up in the head. You see enough to get the picture and they don’t elaborate nor do they have to. 

He wears some amazing clothes, by the way. I liked this version of the character a lot. Even when he’s being nice and friendly, you know that he can snap at any second (which he does). He does not have it together. 

He doesn’t steal the show, but that’s a good thing. He’s a good villain, that allows our girls to be the perfect heroes/anti-heroes to his villany.

Victor Zsasz

Boy does he have it bad for Roman. He is very jealous and you know he wants to kill anyone who steals Roman’s attention away from him. A different kind of Zsasz, but enjoyable. 

I love the rivalry between him and Black Canary, or what he percieves as a rivalry.

Female Empowerment/Some Reviews

So some reviews, I’ve seen basically say they don’t like this movie or have problem with it, because this kind of “female empowerment” has been done before and isn’t good or isn’t as good as it thinks it is. 

And while, it’s not untrue that violent women willing to murder are not the greatest role models, I also am a bit annoyed at these reviews.

I mean, this movie does have a girl-power vibe to it without a doubt. 

But it feels more like the message is -- 

Girl are Awesome. Here are some awesome ladies with varying degrees of violent tendacies, who are badass and who all should definitely know a therapist aside from Harley Quinn.

I don’t think girls have to violent to be badass, especially not in real-life, but I also don’t think female characters can’t be violent or angry. And 3 out of 5, weren’t starting anything or actively seeking violence at least not to the degree of the other two.

Also, it’s an R-Rated movie about a villainous comic book character...I mean, what were you expecting. 

I understand the issue some people are having with this film, about women-empowerment and the celebration of violence and I don’t disagree with that.

In my opinion, the women-empowerment comes less from the violence and more from the fact that you had women as the center focus who were all pretty different and unique, and all of them had clear individual stories being told that created the plot of the movie. 

For me, the movie was saying here are some awesome comic book characters who are also women, enjoy watching them beat and murder their way through Gotham City. Also enjoy them kicking several men in the balls, it’s quite fun. 

I had great time with this movie. 

So I hope people see it and I hope they have a good time. 

#Birds of Prey #Harley Quinn #birds of prey and the emancipation of one harley quinn #birds of prey and the fantabulous emancipation of one harley quinn #Birds of Prey Spoilers #Black Canary #Huntress #Renee Montoya #Cassandra Cain #Dinah Lance #helena bertinelli #Harleen Quinzel

[parabellum-rpg-archive]

Congratulations, Joss! You’ve been accepted to play Aaron Murphy (previously Aaron Khan, last name changed to fit the new FC’s ethnicity). Your request to change his FC to Bob Morley has also been approved. Please make your page and send it in within 24 hours.

Admin note: Joss, you’re absolutely flawless. You make it very easy to fall in love with your writing, and you’ve given Aaron so much depth! I can’t wait to see him on the dash! - Admin V

IC INFORMATION —

CHARACTER DESIRED Aaron Khan DESCRIBE THE CHARACTER IN YOUR OWN WORDS If you told Aaron to turn out his pockets and show what he’s accomplished in life, you might see it as just empty hands, but to him, being a dealer is the only thing he’s ever been really good at. He’s got learning disabilities, dyslexia and ADHD, that prevented him from ever really settling into a normal life or doing well in school, but when it comes to weed, he’s a fucking prodigy. He can tell the weight of a bag just by looking at it or holding it, he can tell from the smell if product is good or not, and he knows how to spot an undercover cop at 100 yards. His greatest skill is in being able to read his customers. He can tell from the moment you approach him what strain you’re going to need, how much, and what you’re willing to pay. He’s friendly, never tries to force you to be his friend, and always stands by his product. If weed were legal, he might be paying taxes and living the good life at a cannabis dispensary. As it is, he’s the guy on everyone’s cell phone under “Aaron Green”. People usually assume when you say your home life was bad that someone was smacking you around or there was no food, maybe your parents were junkies or crackheads. But it doesn’t have to be that dramatic to be bad. Sometimes your family can just forget you exist. Aaron was one of eight kids and none of them ever really had a chance. He disappeared in among his siblings so that no one ever noticed when he never came home at night. His home was loud, but there was never any real love in it. His parents were immigrants who’d come to America as children and never gotten out of the ghetto neighbourhoods of Detroit. They never had enough money and worked all the time, and when they came home, they would just stare blankly at their children, as if to say, “are you still here?” Aaron doesn’t think they were ever even in love; certainly the photographs never show people who looked happy to be together. Sometimes he lets himself wonder if they were like him, with dreams that they could never achieve and a burning need to do something, and if they just got beaten down by life, but it’s not like he can ask anymore. Chicago was the farthest Aaron could get from Detroit on the money he’d saved up, and it seemed like a town that still had hope, while Detroit was just dying slowly around him. He had a cousin there whose couch he crashed on (Aaron has cousins everywhere, they come out of the woodwork whenever one of them needs somewhere to crash), and a few job possibilities lined up, but he’d get itchy if he got stuck working behind a counter or washing dishes or shifting mail around, needing more stimulation than entry-level jobs provided. If he’d had the money to do training in a trade or something, maybe he could’ve done something with his hands that kept him occupied, or trained to be a tech expert, since he loves video games and can play them for hours if need be. Instead, he asked his dealer if the guy could hook him up with a gig, and one thing led to another. Working for the Costellos is mildly terrifying at times, but it feeds that part of him that needs to move and stay active. He doesn’t deal anything too hard, just weed and some party drugs, and he’s a favourite of club kids and college students for the quality of his product and his innovations when it comes to packaging and branding. He’ll wake up in the middle of the night with a brilliant idea about a new line of edibles like peppermint chocolates for the on-the-go buyer who doesn’t want to overindulge, or flavoured strains of CBD oil laced with hash to give a smooth high without any paranoia, or making their own line of e-liquids for vapes (something he’s very into, do not get him started on the unfair legislation around vaping rights), and spend the next three days making it happen only to crash once his latest masterpiece is complete. He could probably survive without a roommate at this point (though he’d have to live somewhere shady to do so and he’s become a little too comfortable to move back to the hood), but he used the excuse of needing one to let Corinna into his life. She’s the first person he’s lived with that he doesn’t feel anything but uncomplicated affection for, and the idea of having friends that you’re not either also selling to or working for is new and interesting for him. He’s a genuinely nice person (more so when baked but also overall), and he’s always happy to share his groceries or just sit up with her and listen to her talk. He may even someday tell her about his family, though that remains a subject he doesn’t address.   WRITING SAMPLE “Hey, man-bun!” Aaron turned around by reflex, even though someone yelling anything at you out of the blue was, at best, 50/50 gonna be a shitty situation. “That’s what your mom called me last night. At least I think that’s what she was saying, there was a lotta moaning going o-” Aaron didn’t get to finish his sentence, the punch catching him straight in the jaw. He looked like he could handle himself in a fight, but his muscles were all for show. Staggering back, he checked to see if all his teeth were still there. That was one thing that hadn’t gone wrong yet. “You sold me bad shit, motherfucker! Gimme my money back, or I’m gonna end you!” If this had been back in Detroit, Aaron might have taken this conversation more seriously, especially because he’d just gotten punched in the face, but this was Chicago, and he worked for the Costellos. Some little trust fund baby wasn’t gonna roll up on him and try and get a fucking refund. “That’s a shame. You still got the stuff? I’ll trade it in for new shit.” They were outside a bar in Costello territory, and the guy squaring up at him looked like he rowed every day and ate ivy for a living. Sure, he was dressed like he was living that thug life, but c'mon, no one’s teeth were that straight in Chiraq. That was the problem with cities like this, everyone thought they could front. Nobody in the suburbs would’ve even bothered, they’d have probably said please and thank you, but out here, people watched too many movies and thought you had to act like an OG. His friend, cuz of course he had a friend, punks like this never tried anything when it was a fair fight, just stood slightly off to the side and switched between grinning and sneering. “Are you fucking stupid? Did you hear me? Gimme my fucking money now! You’re lucky I don’t call my boys down and fuck your shit up for giving me lousy stuff!” It had gotten to the point where Aaron wasn’t really a street dealer primarily anymore, he was the guy you called when you needed something. He did deliveries and hung out at parties and clubs. When you were selling a product people wanted, you didn’t have to pound the pavement to sell it. But he was doing another favour for Holden. Aaron always did favours for Holden, no matter how many times the other man asked. He couldn’t help it. And normally he could spot an asshole a mile off and choose to refuse service, but Holden needed his quota to stay up, so Aaron had been a little too liberal with his sales tonight. Figures he’d get punched on his night off. “Like I said, I can do a trade if you’re unhappy with the product, but this isn’t a Target, man. We don’t do refunds. So hand over the shit, and I’ll give you some primo Afghani Kush. I’ll even top up the bag free of charge, cuz I wanna preserve our relationship.” The kid wasn’t having any of it. “I already smoked it and it did jackshit! I’m not even high! We even mixed it with some coke and it did fucking nothing!” Oh boy. So on top of assholes, they were idiots too. “You can’t mix it with coke, man. That just ruins both highs. If you’d said you’d wanted something to blend with uppers, I coulda-” Aaron was prevented in continuing with his sales pitch when the kid pulled out a gun. The fucking sikik seemed to think he could draw down in public. Granted, it was a shit neighbourhood, but it was still a Neighbourhood. “C'mon guy, this is a bad move. You really wanna think this one through, you know?” This whole evening was really turning into a bummer. If he got shot by this at hırsızı, he’d never live it down. And he didn’t have health insurance. The kid’s gun didn’t waver, and his friend had pulled a piece too. Awesome. “You coulda just given me the money, now I’m gonna take everything, and I’m gonna kick your ass too, you piece of shit fag-” The conversation ended abruptly with a squealing of tires and bright lights. Aaron jumped out of the way, rolling across the sidewalk and dragging himself up when there wasn’t immediate gunfire. The kid and his friend were now lying in the road groaning in front of a red Ford pickup. The door opened and Holden got out, looking at Aaron with bewilderment. “What the hell happened?” Stumbling forward, Aaron had the sense to kick the guns away from the two kids as he limped over to the truck’s passenger side. “Just a difference of opinion, don’t worry about it. But I’m thinking we talk about moving you to somewhere a little more high-class. This neighbourhood is going to shit.” As Holden slammed into the car and peeled away, the neighbourhood returned to normal, like it had never happened. It was Chicago, weirder things happened every day. Aaron leaned his head against the glass and dug a joint out of his pocket, inserting it between his lips and expertly lighting it with his lucky Zippo. “Don’t smoke that in the car, you’ll make it reek in here.” Laughing, Aaron rolled down the window. “You’re the weirdest dealer I know, man. C'mon, night’s still young, let’s hit Lake Forest and make some money off the preps out there.” Holden, shaking his head, took the turnoff and headed for the suburb. “You ever take anything seriously, cabron?” Aaron winked. “Not unless I can’t avoid it, kaşar.”

#accepted

[southboundhqarchive]

MEET ADELINE,

FULL NAME › Adeline Ziyi Mercier AGE › twenty nine GENDER › Cis woman (She/Her/Hers) FROM › Guangzhou, China RESIDENCE › Desert Willow Apartment Complex (Downtown) OCCUPATION › Owner of the Olive Branch Bar NOW PLAYING › The Show by Lenka

BIOGRAPHY,

trigger warnings: implied racism, internalized racism, bullying, death

i. the first thing anyone will tell you about ethan and therese mercier is that they are good christians. church every sunday, bible study, scriptures framed on their wall christians. they can’t conceive a child of their own, but their sorrow gives way to purpose: this is all part of god’s plan. they are meant to give an unfortunate child a better life. a few trips to china and some paperwork filed later, the merciers bring a beautiful baby girl out of the orphanage and christen her adeline. it’s the american dream!

on their search for the perfect place to raise a child, they settle on the picturesque town of boot hill, arizona. it’s safe, secluded, and the desert has some charm, and when adeline turns two, they move into a one-story house with a garden. adeline is given dresses and books and toys; she is showered in love; she wants for nothing, and should want for nothing. they raise her as an all-american girl without much thought to her chinese heritage—well, there’s a chinese restaurant just a short drive away—but they do not know that will cause her to lose pieces of herself.

it is in elementary school when someone first asks her why don’t you look like your mom? it’s easy to stick out in town when you’re one of the only asian kids, and her crueler classmates mock the shape of her eyes and call her names. they never let her forget she’s different, that she doesn’t belong, and when she comes home crying, her mother soothes her and tells her to ignore them. be stronger than them. be the bigger person. it’s easy to say that when you’re used to being the majority, but every time adeline looks in the mirror, she is reminded she is not. if she wishes hard enough, will her eyes turn blue and her hair turn blonde?

but there are no fairy godmothers in boot hill. there is only a lonely girl, the fractures of her identity, and the desire for acceptance.

ii. if she will fit in with no one, then she will fit in with everyone. in high school, she flits between groups with ease, earning trust with a guileless smile and a warm demeanor. she’s a cheerleader, a pianist, student council vice president, and everyone loves her—or if they don’t, they pretend to. elementary school taunts become snide remarks in the bathroom. she acts like she’s better than us, who does she think she is? teenagers ( and adults! ) are particularly venomous when fed with the prejudices of their small world. you’re so exotic. how much do you cost? go back home. you don’t belong here. but adeline holds her head high because that is she what she’s been taught, plays the role everyone from her parents to her friends to her teachers want her to. she is so honest, so compassionate, you can’t help but tell her everything. soon, she is carrying not only the secrets of heart but the secrets of her peers too, and it is more than she ever wanted to hold. ( this is what she has learned about people: they want to be listened to. they want to be heard. but who is listening to her? )

the dissonance of the two halves of her identity, american and chinese, never quite goes away, but she shoves it down in favor of hanging out with friends at cheri’s dairy and going on dates at the drive-in. still, try as she might, she can’t ignore her curiosity. the older she gets, the more questions she has, and the desire to reconnect with the country she only knows as her birthplace grows with each year. they’ve already been to the jade flower, which adeline chooses every year for her birthday, though surely there’s more to being chinese than chow mein and general tso’s chicken. but there are no chinese schools in boot hill, no chinese new year celebrations like in san francisco, and her parents are terribly vague about answering questions about where she came from. they think she shouldn’t wonder too much, that she should be happy with what she has in the united states, with them. you’re much better off here, adeline.

iii. boot hill girls don’t go to college and they certainly don’t go to ivy leagues, but adeline mercier has always something of an anomaly. being valedictorian of her high school class, on the student council, and an avid volunteer with a sympathetic story of searching for herself in a sea of faces that don’t look like her gets her a spot at columbia. her parents couldn’t be prouder; this is what they brought her to this country for.

college is the first time in her life she’s seen so many other asians, and it feels like a piece has finally clicked into place but just not quite. the edge slips with the truth: she can’t relate. she doesn’t have them same upbringing as those who grew up in asian families and communities, doesn’t share the same inside jokes or the same struggles. this disconnect leads her to seek out other adoptees in new york, and with them, she finally can name the isolation deep in her bones, that feeling of being in two worlds yet feeling at home in neither. she can finally admit that while her parents tried, they didn’t try hard enough. during her time at columbia, she tries to look for her biological mother the merciers gave her no clues for, but her search turns up next to nothing. she tries not to be too disappointed; it’s just another gaping hole in her heart she can’t fill, just another series of unanswered questions. what’s new?

unused to the academic rigor of her classes, she nearly fails her first year. though she’s always been an intelligent girl—all a’s, model student, overachiever—, high school in boot hill was nothing compared to columbia. with the help of tutors and too many late nights, she manages to bring her grades back up, but it’s a constant uphill battle. frankly, boot hill didn’t prepare her for anything in new york—not the traffic, the subway, not the people. it’s a cliche, a small town girl moving to a big city and feeling completely lost, but god, it’s true. in boot hill, she was a shining star. at columbia, she’s simply another glimmer in a galaxy.

it’s comforting to be lost in the crowd, though, to no longer stick out because she’s different. here, in new york, she can be anyone. in new york, she blends right in. new york is terrifying but exhilarating, and she never wants to leave.

iv. life has a way of forcing your hand to play the cards you don’t want to be dealt. she’d been planning to stay in new york after graduation, but a whirlwind of events sends her back to boot hill, beginning with a positive pregnancy test and ends with death knocking at her door. when her boyfriend of two years learns she’s pregnant, he says everything will be okay, we’ll make it work, we can do anything as long as we’re together.

it’s a touching sentiment, but wishes don’t come true no matter how many stars you wish on and lovers can’t come home when they’re left bleeding in an alley. she finds out later that there was nothing that could be done and she’s left with too many questions and too little answers. rather than stay alone in city that’s growing far too cold for a young woman who grew up under the arizona sun, she returns to that small town off route 66. there, she will be safe. there, she will not worry. there, the jaws of the world will not snap her or her baby in two.

( and for all her parents’ faults, they will always be there to welcome her home. )

v. there are rumors, as there always are, whispers flying around about who the father is, what she’s running from. pretty, polished, tarnished. her mother’s friends sigh about her wasted potential ( what a poor girl! ) like being a single mother has cracked her porcelain facade. not so perfect anymore, quip snide high school acquaintances, the ones who thought she acted as if she was too good for them. how satisfying is it to see not even adeline mercier can escape boot hill? she should’ve known those who try to leave never really can.

but a month passes, and another month, and the rumor mill moves on. with the influx of newcomers coming into boot hill, there’s enough to gossip enough to keep the town sustained that it becomes like she never left ( which is to say, she still feels slightly out of place, like a puzzle piece that doesn’t quite fit ). she easily falls into a routine: she gets a job as a waitress at the schoolhouse cafe, her parents take care of raphael while she’s at work, and she saves up all her money so she can, at least, make something out of herself here.

with the knowledge gained from university and an investment from her parents, she opens the olive branch bar as a homage to her favorite haunts in nyc the summer she turns 26. it pales in comparison to the low-lit lounges of the city she could have called home, but boot hill locals don’t know that. all they see is something new, a change of pace from the bucking horse or coyote’s howl. she’s not looking to replace them—everyone knows you can’t—but simply filling a niche that hasn’t been realized until now. business is slow at first, then suddenly, it skyrockets, both newcomers and locals looking for a taste of sophistication pulled in by the wine list, handcrafted cocktails, and jazzy ambiance.

yet it is a difficult thing to be a bird whose wings have soared only to have them clipped again. when once she might have thought she would’ve worked in skyscrapers and changed even a fraction of the world, her ambitions have been cut in half by circumstance. she’s as successful as one can be in this town with a thriving bar and a wonderful, growing boy, but oh, how she yearns for the world she had a glimpse of.

it’s a shame she’ll never see it again.

❝ if she spoke, she would tell him the truth: she was not okay at all, but horribly empty, now that she knew what it was like to be filled. ❞

CENSUS,

FACECLAIM › Gemma Chan AUTHOR › Izzie

#gemma chan #rp #rpg #oc rp #town rp #{ all. } #{ local. } #{ over twenty. } #{ izzie. } #{ f. } #racism implied tw #internalized racism tw #death tw #bullying tw

[caroline-min-max]

How the Mighty Have Fallen

It was difficult for them to discuss but it had to be done. While Caroline had left them a final farewell, along with a declaration of her passionate love that had never wavered, she hadn’t given them any instructions on how to handle her passing. In truth she didn’t care much. They could throw the body she’d only hated more after becoming human again in a landfill.

But of course they’d never do that.

They shouldn’t have had to deal with this. Both Min and Max were in a state of shock to have woken up and found that Caroline had left their bedroom without waking them. She chose to die alone and quietly with dignity. She didn’t take death lying down. She’d gotten the stuffed rabbit the twins had bought her decades ago to hold, sat in their ‘Memory Room’, and waited for it to end. She didn’t want her last memory with them to be of their tear filled eyes.

The twins had done plenty of crying since then. Their eyes were red, swollen, and puffy. It was impossible to stop for long. How were they supposed to continue on without the women they’d been with for nearly forty years? They were sobbing messes in each others arms as they tried to decide what Caroline would’ve been most happy with.

A viewing but no funeral with a short graveside service seemed appropriate. Caroline would’ve liked something quiet and quaint like that instead of some grand show of her death in a church. Min and Max lacked contact info for most that would be interested in paying their final respects. The best they could do was hope the obituary would be seen and highly stress that only close friends and acquaintances were welcome. They’d shoo out anyone they didn’t know.

Throughout all their ups and downs Two Face and Jervis Tetch had remained important individuals in Caroline‘s life. Jervis had died a few years earlier but Two Face was still hanging in there. When the twins called him he handled the grief he was suddenly hit with by screaming at the twins, wondering what they’d done. Caroline was still too young to die. After the twins told him Caroline’s secret about her treatment Two Face turned oddly sympathetic, offering his condolences and wanting to help them with the arrangements in any way he could.

It was an hour before the viewing was scheduled. The three of them were standing silently before Caroline’s casket and looking at her with mournful eyes. Even in death it was obvious that her final years hadn’t been pleasant. She was barely sixty but looked so much older. Although the coroner had done some “touch ups” there was still a hint of defeat in her expression to show what a relief death had been.

The sound of footsteps made the men turn, all three of them in different states of disbelief upon what they saw. Min’s jaw dropped as he tried to reach for a gun that used to always be at his side, Max froze, and Two Face nearly fell over, needing to quickly grab on to Min to stay on his feet. He almost asked if he was hallucinating.

A man in an old costume they hadn’t seen since their younger days was approaching them. For the longest time they’d assumed he must’ve passed through the pearly gates himself with a predecessor taking his place but here he was, their old foe. Batman. It had to be the same man they’d faced under that mask. He had the same presence and stride but they could tell he’d aged as well.

They all took each other in. Batman, the ORIGINAL Batman, hadn’t seen these three individuals in years either. He’d kept up with the twins’ singing career bur lost touch with what they were up to once they’d retired. Despite having more wrinkles and gray hair they seemed to have aged quite well. As for Caroline, she’d practically disappeared once she wasn’t a rabbit anymore. He had been certain if the twins were successful than she was being well taken care of.

Two Face on the other hand… It was almost unbearable for Batman to see him. When they’d been Bruce Wayne and Harvey Dent together they were the best of friends. But now… After multiple attempts at therapy and surgeries to get rid of the Two Face personality eventually it was deemed a lost cause to keep trying. Grace left him and Two Face just vanished when he too became too old to continue his crime spree.

A coin suddenly appeared in the air, catching everyone attentions. It landed in Two Face’s open palm. Good side.

“You’ve got guts comin’ here…” Two Face said, his deep menacing voice having lost the bite it used to have with age. “I won’t do anything…” He pocketed the coin and looked over at the twins. “But they might.”

Two Face‘s words made Max snap out of it, anger filling his express as he bared his overbite. “You son of a bitch!” he snarled as he took a step forward. He paused when Min grabbed his arm, giving him a questioning look. “What are you doing? We both said if we ever saw Batman again-”

“I know what we said,” Min interrupted. “But I never thought we actually would.” He let Max go and slowly approached Batman, who stood firm.

“Let me know if you need me,” Batman heard in his earpiece from Terry, waiting in his own Batman outfit outside in case things did escalate. The high school boy was able to hear everything that was going on crystal clear through a microphone hidden in the bat suit. Although Bruce was putting on a good show and managing his limp his fighting days were over. He could be a dead man if any of his former adversaries he might run into decided to attack.

Batman hadn’t expected a warm welcome but Max’s hostility was completely unexpected. He’d thought after going straight the three of them were on neutral terms. It seemed something had happened to change that.

“Why did you come here?” Min asked.

“I wanted to pay my respects,” Batman answered. “Then I’ll leave.”

“I’m not letting him see her!” Max shouted as tears ran down his cheeks. He stepped in front of the casket and held out his arms to block the way. “You tricked us! You said everything would be OK! That we could live a normal, happy, peaceful life with Caroline!”

“Did you know?” Min asked, managing to keep calmer than his twin. “Did you know that treatment would make her suffer so badly it would shorten her life? Caroline wrote she was told it would be at most five to ten years but it was more than that… She should still be here with us! She shouldn’t have done it at all!” Tears stung the corners of his eyes now.

“No,” Batman answered calmly, hiding how rattled he was by this information. “The doctor said the treatment could be painful but that Caroline-” He tried to explain he had no idea her quality of life would be affected negatively but was swiftly interrupted.

“‘Painful’?” Max repeated mockingly, still holding his position although he was shaking now. “I’ll tell you what’s ‘painful’! See the light and spirit fade away from your wife’s eyes when that treatment debilitated her! You could see the helplessness in her face when her legs started giving out!” Losing the strength and muscle in them from being a rabbit meant that they could no longer handle the strain she’d put them through over the years. Normal human legs could never do the tremendous leaps, extreme speeds, and deadly kicks she was once capable of.

“She put what happened to her better than we ever could.” Min reached inside his suit pocket and pulled out her letter that he hadn’t parted with. “Read it!” He demanded as he shoved the envelop against Batman’s chest, the Dark Knight grabbing it and taking out the letter.

The three men watched Batman’s stoic expression as he took in the letter’s contents. Once he was finished he slipped it back into the envelop with care and handed it back to Min.

“I’m sorry,” Batman said. This wasn’t the end that he wanted for Caroline. He never imagined that she’d grown so fond of her body as a rabbit and a life of crime with her boys. It was at the point where she couldn’t be happy as anything else and became completely lost as a regular human again.

He was ‘sorry‘? Batman was always a person of few words but he couldn’t possibly think that was good enough. “I want him to go,” Max said, giving Min a pleading a look when he turned to face him.

“I know, Max…” Min replied softly as he walked forward and placed his hands on Max‘s shoulders. “But what do you think Caroline would want?”

His twin’s question caught him off guard. Max thought it over for moment, trying to push his own feelings aside. After a moment he nodded, then letting out an audible sob. He hugged Min back tightly when he embraced him before walking up to Batman. 

“Go look at what you took from us,” Max said before he sat down, feeling more tired than he ever had his entire life. 

Min and Two Face remained standing, watching Batman as he neared Caroline’s casket. The Caped Crusader paused only to look the photos and flowers that had been set up. He saw the majority of the photos had been colorized from the black and white ones taken so many years ago. They featured Caroline when she was a rabbit; not a single one of when she was a human. Upon looking through their photos Min and Max had realized how insincere Caroline’s smile had become during and after her treatments. That wasn’t the Caroline they wanted to be remembered.

They adored Caroline so much there were plenty of sweet candid photos of her they’d taken along with ones that showed off how close she was with the two of them. 

The flowers were so beautiful that Batman knew Poison Ivy had something to do with them. Their colors were so vibrant and the petals were full and flawless. No doubt that she’d be coming.

It came as a surprise to Batman when he was standing in front of Caroline what Min and Max had chosen to dress her in. It was her original White Rabbit outfit; the one she’d worn when first starting out before changing up her style to match the twins. They really were doing their best to honor Caroline when she was at her prime, when they had their fondest memories with her.

The woman he gazed upon was gaunt and thin, like she’d been dead long before she’d actually left this earth. There wasn’t even the slightest wisp of the spunk and smugness of the woman she used to be. Batman now completely understood how this worn out husk had completely doused the soul of the fiery woman stuck inside of it. 

She’d sacrificed so much because she believed it was what everyone else around her wanted. Min and Max fulfilled their lifelong dreams of entertainers while she faded away into nothing like old ink on paper. He silently promised Caroline that their times going toe-to-toe as foes would always have a place in his memory. He’d never forget her glory days.

“A woman’s here early,” Terry warned. “You might want to wrap things up.”

It was perfect timing. There was nothing more he could say or do here. Batman turned and started for the exit, pausing for a moment in front of Max who had broken down crying again with his hands cupped around his eyes. He reached out and placed a comforting hand on Max’s shoulder, making him jump.

Max looked up at Batman not with hatred this time but with the eyes of a man with a broken heart. “Did you ever really ‘save’ any of us?” he asked. “Did you do any of us any good?”

He didn’t get his answer. Truthfully, Batman didn’t know the answer to that anymore. He left the three men in silence as he continued on through the door to the outside where he saw the woman Terry had mentioned.

It wasn’t yet another of Batman’s foes but Grace Lamont. She wasn’t always in Caroline’s life but she’d continued to have a soft spot for the younger woman. Missing her viewing would be completely out of the question. Much like the men she too was completely dumbstruck to see the Batman she was most familiar with after all this time.

“Batman…” Grace breathed, placing a hand up to her mouth. He couldn’t possibly be here as a chance to arrest en mass a group of old, tired villains who weren’t even active any more… Was he?

“Grace,” Batman greeted as he closed the gap between them. “Two Face is inside,” he cautioned.

Grace sighed with a small nod. The twins had warned her and assured her that Two Face would say nothing unless she spoke to him first. “I assume that it’s you who came as a surprise.” She had hard feelings of her own towards Batman. “Why can’t you leave those poor boys alone now?” she asked, not even looking at him as she passed by to enter the funeral home.

He couldn’t blame her. She’d gone through hell with Two Face before it had finally become too much for her.

Batman could hear Max’s question over and over in his mind as he checked the area to make sure no one would see him rejoin Terry where he was hiding. Yes, he’d had a few success stories where individuals with mental illness like Arnold Wesker had gotten themselves under control with meds and psychiatric help. It wasn’t enough, though. He’d begun to realize the only way these people could have truly been helped is if they’d never had to resort to crime in the first place. They were doomed the moment they were tainted.

It was a lot to take in. Maybe he’d have to consider a new approach to teaching Terry how to take over in order to create a crime free Gotham where everyone could live safe and pleasant lives.

[laraiswriting]

Deep Impact (FP Jones x reader)

Hey guys! This is my first time writing anything in english and I'm very nervous on posting it. This isn't my first language, so please don't be harsh on any mistakes. I'm trying my best. Also, it's the first time ever I've written smut. I hope you enjoy and love a certain serpent as much as I do :)

Summary: A one shot about seeing a certain serpent for the first time. FP gets out of jail and his first stop is the Wythe Worm where he meets a mysterious and cheeky woman who knows exactly what she wants.

Warnings: Age gap (reader is in her mid-twenties), cursing, smut

Words: 2257

This was the fourth weekend in a row where you were going to the Wythe Worm to drown your sorrows in alcohol. A lot alcohol. Beeing the oldest kid in a family, where image and prestige is everything, was never easy for you. You've been put through a lot of responsibilities and pressure from your parents and grandparents. And after you graduated school, they wanted you to go to an Ivy League College. Becoming a lawyer like your dad and your granddad...

It never counted that you wanted something else for your life. You had no choice at all. So you struggled and stumbled your way through University. But no grade or achievement had ever been enough. You had to be better, smarter, more powerful.

Every time you couldn't stand all of this anymore you turned to alcohol. Driving an hour or two to a bar where nobody knows you, sleeping in a hotel and covering the trip as 'learningtime in an inspirational new surrounding'. Surprisingly, your family bought this lie every time.

You discovered this bar full of -mostly- guys who are smoking and/or drinking and wrapped in heavy leather jackets, a month ago and decided to come back. You've always had a weakness for the 'bad guys'. Biker... Rocker... So you liked this view a lot. But you never did anything else than watching and observing. None of the men ever caught your attention. But this night promised to be different.

You sat on your typical seat at the wall and sipped on your drink when the door opened and a man you had never seen here before, walked in. And what a man he was. Tall, dark, handsome with big brown eyes, brown hair and a stubble on his face.

He was greeted with cheers and you thought you heard some 'welcome back's', too. This night was just getting interesting. Excitingly, you slipped from your stool and followed the man into the crowd.

When you were next to him you 'accidentily' stumbled against him. "Oh... I'm so sorry. Hey... stranger. I haven't seen you in here before", you started the conversation. His gaze went from your [e/c] eyes to your lips and all over your body. Which sent a shiver down your spine. You were dressed all in black and he seemed to like what he is seeing. "Same goes for you, gorgeous", he said in a low tone. "Well, I've been here for the last few weekends but I could definitely remember if I had seen you around, handsome." You winked at him. He chuckled when he heard your nickname for him and smiled down at you. "So, what about I get you another drink and you tell me, why you would've remembered me?", he asked you in a dark voice.

Saying that, the two of you went back to the bar. As you recieved your drink, you glanced over to the billiard table. "You play?", you asked, nodding to the table. "Sure. This is my bar. Of course I'm good at it." "Hmpf.", you scoffed. "Prove it."

You walked towards the table, hips and butt swinging, knowing, that he was looking. "So, what is your wager?", you asked the man whose name you still didn't know. "If I win, I want to know the most questionable thing you have ever done." His eyes went even darker and you let out a small breath. "Alright. And if I win, I want you to give me something I've never had before. Whatever it turns out to be." You looked up to him with innocent eyes, but he got the hint. "Let the game begin, sweetheart." "My name is [y/n] by the way. But I don't mind you calling me nicknames instead." You winked at him. "Pretty name for a pretty lady. I'm FP", he simply stated. "FP, huh? What's that short for?" "I'll tell you eventually if you win. So, ladys first.", he pointed at you.

You went over to the white ball, bent over and wigged a bit with your butt. "Reason one", you referred to your previous conversation. "I would remember someone paying for my drinks." FP scoffed. "Please. Don't tell me that none of my boys would've wanted to pay for your drinks.""Right. I didn't want them to. You know, I don't like everyone.", you said whilst your first two balls disappeared in wholes. "I think I need more reasons. Doesn't seem valid enough.", FP chuckled.

You smiled and surrounded the table until you stood next to him. "Reason two: I would remember your scent." "Now, this sounds more like the things I thought of.", whispered FP in your ear. You missed the white ball. "Hey!", you exclaimed. "Can't win without a little cheating, huh?" "Well, every game needs to be exciting and unpredictable, don't you think, doll?"

Little did he know, that you were leading billiard champion at your fraternity. Twenty minutes later you sank the black ball into the whole you wanted, hands in the air and shouting "HA!".

"I'm a good loser, so I'm paying my debt.", FP came closer to you as you jumed on top of the table to be on the same eye level with him. "What could I possibly give you what you've never had before", mumbled he as he stands between your legs, running his hands up and down your thighs. You sighed. "Done that before, FP. Don't waste my time." "Brave, little one. Brave. But be careful. You're playing with the devil." He intensified his grip on your thighs and closed the gap between you two. You immediately crashed your lips into his. This is what you were craving for the whole evening. No, the last few weeks. You needed a man. And FP definitely could give you what you needed.

Your hands went around his neck and you pulled his hair to get closer to him. He groaned against your mouth. This was almost enough to let you moan yourself. Suddenly, he lifted you up, hands around your ass, and started stumbling somewhere. You didn't ask any questions. Actually, you didn't care where you were going with him as long as the two of you would be alone. "This game just started to get exciting", you whispered in his ear while taking his earlobe between your teeth. FP's reaction was, that the stumbling fastened and you realized that you were going upstairs.

You didn't have sex in a bar or some kind of backroom before, but you didn't consider to tell him yet. Not even a second. You were beyond excited when FP opened a door and shut it right behind you. FP laid you down on a couch and hovered over you. He then started to kiss a trail from the corner of your lips to your neck. Little, too little tiny kisses. This started to kill you. You wanted him.

"FP... Come on. Why are you so soft?", you whined. "You're so impatient, love." After a few more soft kisses, he suddenly sinked his teeth into your flesh. Hard. "Oh god...", you cried out in a mix of pleasure and pain, arching your back. FP continued to suck on your neck, searching for your soft spot. Leaving bite and love marks and earning a flow of curses and moans from you. You dugged your fingers into the couch. Your other hand clasped into FP's hair to intensify the feeling. By the time he travelled with his one hand down your body, squeezing your breast, you were liquid under his hands.

You never felt this turned on by just neck kissing and little touching. He knew what he was doing, that was for sure. You tucked his shirt and took it over his head. When he raised his head, you could barely see his pupils anymore. His eyes were clouded with lust. And you were pretty sure, you looked the same.

He began to kiss a trail down between your breasts, to your stomach and til the beginning of your trousers. He took off your shirt and bra and started to roll your one nipple between his fingers while his tounge massaged your other nipple. You whimpered. "God, FP... fuck... do you want to kill me?" "I'm just paying my debt.", he said while breathing heavy himself.

You couldn't wait any longer. FP was such a tease. You sat up and started to unbuckle his jeans. "Stand up and take them off. Boxers, too.", you commanded. Amused and a bit surprised by your cockiness, he obeyed. You licked your lips at the view of a nacked FP. He not only kissed like a god, he looked like one, too.

You kneeled down on the floor right in front of his hard member and started stroking it. You bit your lip and looked up at FP. He was breathing hard, eyes closed and mouth opened a bit. You licked the tip of his cock and slowly closing your mouth around him. FP moaned by your touch and that gave you an extra boost of confidence. You moved your head back and forth, taking him deeper with every thrust. You felt how soaked you were and how annoying your remaining clothes felt on you. With one last thrust you let go of FP. Standing up, you impatiently got rid of your trousers. Knowing that FP was watching, you turned around and taking your panties off slowly, showing him your ass.

FP gripped your waist from behind and you could feel his hard cock against your ass. You whimpered. "Please, tell me you have condoms somewhere near.", you moaned. "Of course, baby. But we don't need them yet.", he teased. Again. You groaned. "FP... I... oh yes... oh god..." He had started to draw circles at your clit with his fingers. His mouth found its place on your neck again and with this mix of feelings and emotions you couldn't think clear anymore.

He pushed you lightly towards the couch until your feet touched it. Still with your back towards him, he comanded you to kneel down on the couch. You did as he told. You heard him going away and a ripping sound followed. You closed your eyes in excitment of what was next to come. You felt your juice running down your legs. You needed him so bad. And you didn't wanted it to be gentle. Not tonight.

All of a sudden, FP slipped two fingers inside you and groaned. "Baby... you're so wet. And so tight. This is so...", he couldn't control himself anymore. He fingered you for some time but soon replaced them with the tip of his erected member at your entrance. "No need to be gentle, handsome. I can handle it.", you encouraged him. A split second later, he entered you with one hard thrust. You could feel this mix of pain and pleasure again and started moaning again. He pounded even harder and picked up his pace. "FP... harder... Please, fuck me.", you whined.

His hands were on your hips to hold you steady while he fucked you from behind. This was definitely the best sex you had yet. And you hadn't cum yet. But you slowly felt this familiar feeling inside your stomach. And as FP, always knowing what you needed, started to rub your clit again, you couldn't stand it anymore. Your moanings got even louder and FP felt your walls tighten around him. "Oh baby girl, this is so good. You're so hot. Come, tell me how you like it.", he growled. With his name on your lips, you exploded around him. You could swear you were seeing stars. Your whole body was shaking. This orgasm was intense.

With one more thrust, FP came close behind you. As you both rode out your orgasms and tried to catch your breaths, you felt yourself relax. Something inside you got fixed. You didn't feel the anger anymore. The pressure. The strain.

FP pulled out and the both of you collapsed on the couch. He opened his arms and you cuddled, head on his chest. "Reason three", you laughed "I could remember such incredible sex." He placed a kiss on your hair. "I hope, I could give you, what you asked for. Otherwise... you have to come back.", he stated. You gave him a light kiss on the lips and sighed. "I have to go now. I have to drive back early in the morning." You both got dressed and as you walked down the stairs you suddenly felt like something was sitting on your chest.

You didn't want to leave.

FP escorted you to your cab and pulled you in for one last kiss. With his hands around your waist, leaving no space between you, and your hands in his hair, the kiss was intense but soft and gentle. "Goodbye, little one." "Goodbye, dark one." FP chuckled at this new nickname. "I'll be back next weekend.", you said while entering the cab. "I'll be here. See you." As the cab pulled of you looked behind and you saw FP looking back at you. You let out a deep sigh. What have you gotten yourself into?

#riverdale #fp jones #fp jones x reader #forsythe pendleton ii #smut #fanfic #fanfiction #reader #fp #serpents #southside serpents #riverdale serpents #imagine #riverdale imagines #fp jones imagine

[putthison]

Way Down in This: Subcultural Cachet in Cool: Style, Sound, and Subversion by Greg Foley and Andrew Luecke (part I)

I grew up listening to a lot of punk rock, and sometimes I take it for granted that everyone I know is at least passingly familiar with the Dead Kennedys and Black Flag. I have to remind myself that, although some music breaks through to the monoculture, most of that stuff is niche, familiar to a relatively small group, and patched onto denim vests mostly by true believers. On the other hand, I know very little about jam band culture, or Juggalos (although I learned a lot from Nathan Rabin). While today you can pull up a ton of music across genre, subculture, and era on streaming services or Youtube, finding out the origins, aesthetics, and relationships among the groups--often young, often trying to forge an identity through music and clothing to stand out--can be tough.

Andrew Luecke and Greg Foley connect those dots with Cool: Style, Sound, and Subversion, their recently published book that serves as a chronological field guide to subcultures, with illustrated two-page spreads on groups from flappers to new age travellers (all of them are real, allegedly). Greg’s illustrations provide a great shorthand for the styles each subculture developed, and facts and essays place each in context of the broader culture and each other. Pictured above are Greg’s illustrations of the Miyuki-Zoku (early adopters of the Ivy League look in Japan) and punks.

The book rewards both casual flipping through and a full read, as threads and lines of influence emerge across time and geography. The authors and some special contributors also compiled playlists that vibe with the relevant eras and groups--contributors include Glenn O’Brien (no wave), A$AP Ferg (trap), and Peter Saville (glam rock).

I talked with Andrew and Greg about where the book came from and what subcultures, in their research, were the most interesting. Part II will post later in the week.

Pete Anderson: I was really impressed with the book. It's like an encyclopedia for subcultures, giving the origins and time frames, music, and a really helpful and artful visualization.

Andrew Luecke: We did want to make it more than an encyclopedia, but at the same time we understand that’s part of the appeal of the book. Doing spreads for each subculture is just an efficient way to organize things and fit the maximum amount of information. And we wanted the book to be a real reference too. An encyclopedia is an efficient collection organized in a very specific way, from A to Z. COOL is organized in linear time. And I think one thing that works well for the book is that it serves as a number of different kinds of encyclopedias. It’s a visual encyclopedia where one can reference all these different looks, but at the same time, one can read deeper into the histories of these cultures, so it’s a written encyclopedia as well. And then of course, it’s a musical encyclopedia.

Greg Foley:  Since we’re streaming those playlists in partnership with Apple Music, the musical encyclopedia becomes a living thing, for people to interact with. I think, hopefully, when you combine all the different layers it adds some real depth. Also, with the infographic fold-out in the book, we made sure that the subcultures connected to one another in as thorough a way as possible, showing ins and outs, and long-term influences. Really trying to show a web of shared meaning. Infographics are an efficient visual reference, but if you want to really look at it, there’s some depth there.

AL: Plus we included some essays to try and tie everything together. But yeah, the encyclopedia thing is cool for me. I’ve always loved encyclopedias and textbooks and annotated things. So I like that aspect of the book.

Greg Foley’s illustration of teddy boys.

PA: How did you team up for the work?

AL: Well, Greg is married to one of my best friends, and we were all at a fashion week party hosted by Esquire back when I worked there. Greg asked me what kind of book I would do if I could do anything, and I was like, “Well, I have this idea to do a comprehensive book on subcultures. I have a big list of like 100 I’ve been collecting for years.” And he was like, “I was thinking the same thing. I’d love to do an illustrated history of subcultures.” So it almost felt like it was meant to be, at least to me. I’m not sure why he asked me that, though. Maybe his wife Shannon urged him to? But, yes, we had very similar ideas separately. But yeah, that was about two years ago and I’d been making a list of subcultures for maybe two years before that with the serious intent of trying to do a book.

GF: Having helped start Visionaire and V Magazine as well as writing my own children’s books, I’ve developed a passion for publication. It’s something I enjoy sharing with others. I posed the question to Andrew because he’d never done a book before. So when he mentioned his list, I had a sense we could team up to pull off what neither of us might be able to do separately.

PA: Since many (but not all) of the subcultures are documented only lightly (there’s plenty out there on punk but maybe less on, like, new age travellers) how did you research this stuff?

GF: That’s one of the reasons we thought it was worth doing. Because most of the books on youth subcultures cover a few well worn groups.

AL: It’s funny that you mention that, because new age travellers was one of the toughest to research. I pieced that one together from like English government reports on the welfare of traveller children and, like, eight-year old set lists on some blog about a summer solstice gathering from, you know, 2008. Government sources like that can be hard to find, but are authoritative at least. I mean, there were some books too, but that one was hard. So we used a ton of online sources, both journalistic and less traditional.

GF: As we revised our list, we made a real effort to include international subcultures, especially beyond Western Europe and even Japan to some extent. But again, that only increased the challenge.

AL: Luckily, we also had full access to Parsons’ and NYU’s libraries since Greg teaches at Parsons. So we could access academic journals and harder-to-find books too. Because we were dealing with some non-traditional source materials sometimes, I triangulated the information for anything in the text. If three sources confirmed the same thing, that made me feel confident about including it.

GF: We did that with the photo research for the illustrations too—made sure we had multiple sources.

Greg Foley’s illustration of mods.

PA: How did you determine who made the cut?

AL: Well, one thing we found in researching this thing, is that defining what exactly a subculture is, can be tough. They all have blurry borders and overlap with other cultures and all sorts of other things. We did have a few rules though.

GF: We didn’t include religious or cult groups, though religion obviously played a part in some subcultures we included. We also didn’t want to feature, say, a specific gang, like the Hells Angels or something.

AL: But we included bikers, so another criteria was that these things had to be broad and extend beyond individual cliques or groups. They also had to have some subversive element to them—even the American college kids of the 1920s—who might not seem subversive on the surface, were redefining the rules for dressing, totally rebelling against their parents’ formalities, which were really rooted in a pre-World War I Victorian thing and bringing athletic wear to the streets and stuff. And throwing keggers and being a bit wild.

GF: Also groups had to have visually cohesive elements. They had to look like a subculture when I grouped up the reference images.

AL: Lastly, we started in the 1920s, because the overlap with mass media was so important. Particularly the record industry and radio, but also magazines, movies, and later TV. Even advertising played a role in this push-pull of rebellion and marketing. That stuff really exploded in the 1920s, and really fueled and interacted with these subcultures.

PA: Are there any you left out you would've liked to include?

AL: Yes, bike messengers and that punk-hippy tall-bike culture. I couldn’t believe we left them out. I think I did it subconsciously because I had some negative run-ins with bike messengers when I was a younger man.

GF: At certain points we considered how many of our groups revolved around vehicles. I’m sure bike messengers would have looked great but ultimately it’s a job, and maybe vocational uniforms are another book.  

Stay tuned for more from Andrew and Greg in part II. Greg designs and creative-directs Visionaire, and Andrew is a professional trend forecaster and style editor.

#COOLthebook #Andrew Luecke #Greg Foley #Books #Subcultures #Punk