#'people were harsh with me when i was a shitty teenager and it made me learn how to be better' telling a teenager

[readymades2002]

the way people go to bat for siken on this site is unreal

#i think responding to a teenager emailing you asking about your work with 'your email made me wish i'd died' is kind of evil #the things you say to teenagers stay with them and saying something like that is unbelievably cruel #especially for someone who is apparently a Great Writer though ive yet to see evidence of this #i understand wanting privacy but she emailed him just like. completely standard wikipedia article early life questions #she wasnt trying to be his friend or anything she certainly didnt bring up trauma like the mature tastemakers on tumbler dot net are saying #'people were harsh with me when i was a shitty teenager and it made me learn how to be better' telling a teenager #that them emailing you about an interview for a school paper made you wish a stroke had killed you is beyond harsh i think. a little #did she need to post it? no but when youre a teenager who is presumably interested in the world and in sharing what you know #with other people then this is a way to tell other people 'hey jsyk this author was a dickhead' #so they don't go through the same thing. like. im just #every day i see people on this site being so fucking weird about teenagers...

[say-al0e]

Honestly just need some tooth rotting fluff for Eddie. Feels like all I find for him is smut. Perhaps it could be them being together after s4 and they’ve graduated finally. Them not worried about what the future has in store for them both and just enjoying moments like these for right now. ( xfemale! reader pls🥰)

Soft fluff with Eddie and reader, under the ‘read more’! Not explicitly female reader (I believe it’s gender neutral, someone let me know if I’m wrong). Right at 1k words!

Eddie couldn’t remember the last Fourth of July carnival he attended.

It was sometime before high school, back when he had buzzed hair and still cared way too much about what guys like Steve Harrington - and girls like Tammy Thompson - thought about him. It was when he still lived with his parents, before his uncle took him in, that much he knew. But specifics from that period were all a blur.

With the town’s general attitude toward him, toward people that looked like him, he tried to avoid large gatherings. It wasn’t because he cared about whatever they had to say, it was more because he just couldn’t be bothered. The attention never bothered him but their whispering could get exhausting.

He knew that if it weren’t for you, he would’ve happily continued avoiding places like the carnival altogether. 

However, Eddie Munson had fallen completely, utterly, and irrevocably in love with you. You had him wrapped around your finger - willing to do absolutely anything you asked of him, no hesitation, no shame - and, because of that, he found himself wandering through his own personal Hell.

Eddie was sure you were a sight - him, with his ripped jeans and ratty band t-shirt, cigarette between scowling lips as you wandered the fairgrounds; you, with your pretty pink linen shorts and sleeveless top, lips grinning wide as you took in the sights - but he couldn’t find it in himself to care about the heavy stares he felt. 

The near constant smile you’d flashed since climbing into his van was all that mattered and Eddie realized as he trudged on, oversized unicorn plush in one hand and yours wrapped in the other, that he was well and truly fucked. His heart was yours - cradled in your hands, something fragile you could shatter, if you were ever so inclined - but, instead of terrifying him, the realization brought him a startling peace.

For as brave a face as he put on, Eddie spent a great deal of his life afraid. He’d been afraid he wouldn’t graduate, afraid he might go to jail, afraid he might die in some bizarre alternate Hawkins, afraid he might never amount to anything more than a burnout. More than anything, however, Eddie spent a good deal of time afraid that he might never be truly content.

Weed and music made him happy. Sex made him happy. Dungeons and Dragons made him happy. Shitty horror movies and fantasy novels made him happy. But nothing filled the void he feared would one day consume him. He was constantly searching for something, chasing a high he could never quite reach, and it wasn’t until he found himself lost in an alternate dimension - with a group of people he’d never once considered could become so important to him - that he thought it might be within his grasp.

It wasn’t until he found himself curled up beside you, physically and mentally exhausted from battle, that he realized what he’d been missing all along.

Eddie swore that he knew how to flirt, swore he could be considered charming, but all sense of decorum flew out the window when he realized how he felt about you. The crush he’d harbored in high school, a teenage dream shattered by harsh reality, bloomed into love so quick that he didn’t have time to process before he was asking you to see a movie with him.

Immediately - from the moment you gripped his hand near the Upside Down Skull Rock, smile soft and reassuring even as he shook with fear - your presence calmed the too-fast beat of his heart. Immediately, Eddie felt content. 

With you, there was no fear.

There was no worry that he might not graduate - with your help, he did; by the skin of his teeth, but he still walked across the stage and flipped off the principal in the process. There was no worry that he might go to jail, no worry that he might die. There was no worry that he might never amount to anything, no worry that he was wasting his life.

With you, Eddie was content.

Eddie squeezed your hand, unable to help himself, and grinned when you glanced at him. “You wanna ride the ferris wheel before the line gets insane?”

Neither of you cared about the fireworks - you’d even promised him a makeout session in his van, hidden away from the kids and Robin and Steve and Nancy and Jonathan, as a thank you for enduring the torture that was a town event - and you knew the line would be unbearable, just for a chance to see them from the top.

From the top of the ferris wheel, you could see the entirety of the fairgrounds. Hawkins wasn’t what either of you would’ve considered beautiful - though, you both had to admit there was a certain charm to it after living through the alternative - but, from the top of the ride, it wasn’t half bad.

Eddie wouldn’t miss it at all when you moved to Indianapolis together in the fall, though.

Before he could voice that aloud, you turned to him with a bright smile.

“Can we get funnel cake after this?” Neither of you needed the sugar - Eddie had a joke about you tasting sweet enough without it on the tip of his tongue - but before he could so much as inhale, you frowned. ”On second thought, maybe not. You’re wearing all black, the sugar might make a mess.”

Mumbled thoughts like that - little acts of consideration, things other people might consider trivial - made all the difference in the world to him. You cared, enough to worry about getting powdered sugar on his jeans, and suddenly his calm made all the sense in the world.

When there was someone to worry for him, someone to care, the burden didn’t feel quite so heavy.

Eddie leaned over, reached for your chin with practiced ease, and pressed his mouth to yours in a kiss that had you seeing stars. Your vanilla chapstick was sweeter than any powdered sugar, more enticing than any carnival food could’ve been, and Eddie hoped the entirety of Hawkins heard as he declared, “I fuckin’ love you, sweetheart.”

He couldn’t remember the last Fourth of July carnival he attended but, when you grinned - repeated those three words back just as strong, just as steady - Eddie knew he would remember this one for the rest of his life.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fluff #stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #v's blurbs

[stranger-rants]

If Steve's parents were anything like Neil, he would be a very different character. Genuinely baffles me how people don't understand that and choose to ignore Neil's influence on Billy in favor of creating a "better" victim out of Steve.

Also like, why is that level of abuse the default consensus? Steve's parents aren't in the show because they literally don't matter. All in all, he's fine. His attitude in S1 doesn't mean he has shitty parents that treat him terribly--it means he's a teenager with an attitude and equally immature friends.

Plus I think calling them "neglectful" is a stretch because child neglect is a whole other facet of abuse that no one goes into beyond "they leave him alone all the time." There's a difference between having workaholic parents and straight-up negligence to grow up with, and if it had much bearing on him as a person, it would have been touched upon at least a little bit considering Steve's role in the show at large. The Duffers aren't stupid enough to ignore that; if it mattered, Joe would have made sure it mattered, and they would have included it.

(Same with Eddie, for that regard. We don't know anything about his mom, fine. His dad is probably in jail, he was probably a terrible influence anyway [the effects of which have probably left a strong impression], but, as it stands in the show, Eddie's just fine with his uncle who loves him to pieces.)

Like Anon said, Steve acts like every fucking teenager does about their parents. No one likes their parents all the time lol. He's clearly not traumatized by them, let alone to the degree that Billy is. Ignoring canon to justify blaming Billy for what he goes through, and choosing to ignore the intentionally clear abuse in the show, just because they don't like him is heinous.

(This ended up much longer than I intended oops--your posts get my brain movin')

No, I get it.

I had this argument with people in the 911 fandom for another character (Evan Buckley). I had seen a lot of fanworks assume that his parents were physically abusive, and I pushed back against that idea because I just did not see that in the way that he coped with everything. It didn't make sense. What did make sense was that his emotional needs were neglected because his behavior indicated that he was always seeking out validation from his peers and doing everything he could to prove his worth. I kind of see the same with Steve.

The thing is, I was right! When Evan's parents were introduced it was also revealed that they neglected him emotionally. They gave him everything else he could need, but they did not bond with him. (They had lost a child from Cancer. So, they distanced themselves from Evan emotionally while he was growing up.) They never hit him, but their behavior hurt him nonetheless despite them thinking they were doing the right thing. His trauma is still valid, but it's not the same as his sister who was in an abusive relationship for years (and people don't give her nearly as much sympathy because she doesn't always cope well).

We would be better off recognizing just how diverse these stories can be rather than comparing pain and using one person's "better" coping skills to judge an other's more harsh circumstances. Me saying one is more harsh isn't me trying to compare pain, because pain from trauma can't be measured neatly. A sore foot can hurt more than a broken leg sometimes. It's just that one can be more dangerous or need more immediate intervention/care.

#asks

[donnerpartyofone]

I had a dream that I had gotten heavily into a (fictional) indie rock band with a lot of thoughtful, poignant lyrics about life and relationships and stuff. I was telling people, "I don't usually listen to anything like this, but this is so good, it's my new favorite thing!" In reality I haven't listened to anything like that in years.

I started removing myself from poignant, thoughtful music about life and relationships and stuff during and after my Very Abusive Relationship, which semi-permanently alienated me from most forms of sentimental, romantic media--ESPECIALLY media that romanticizes destructive obsessions and shitty behavior, which is practically all media as you may have immediately realized. That stuff used to be fun before I actually lived through it and realized that it's always about infantile egomania and that I actually hate people who have to hurt others in order to feel like they have the slightest shred of efficacy/value/relevance in their own narrow little lives (which is a surprising number of people btw). The /bad romance/ thing seems so monolithic, like the biggest most desirable thing in the world, until you get right up close with your nose to it and you realize it's made out of particle board and vinyl siding and it has to be that big to cast an obscuring shadow over a whole lot of adult babies (sorry, adult baby community, I actually don't mean you) who are hoping you won't notice how spineless and pathetic they are. Spending a few years with someone who made it his business to scare the shit out of me and try to ruin my life, fairly publicly, had the one-two punch of making me feel like I simply wasn't good enough to be in one of those dark and brooding romances because otherwise why would he try to convince me I was nothing--and conversely, leaving me totally disillusioned about dark and brooding romances because I had been up close and seen how the sausage was made and it's not remotely as exotic and delicious as people try to tell you it is. It's just off-brand baby food, left on the shelf long past its expiry.

Right after that was over another factor pulled me away from poignant, thoughtful music about life and relationships and stuff, which was working in an open-plan office next to the tech guy pool. Us sensitive, artistic nerds in the production department had a pretty high-stress job that required constant focus, and we were pretty much only ever noticed by the overlords if one of us screwed something up; we were constantly being monitored not just for poor performance, but for potential political incorrectness or any little thing that could be construed as an HR problem--and in the meantime, the tech guys were literally screaming misogynistic jokes and racial slurs and throwing shit at each other, sometimes hitting us or our computers, but the executives had this hypnosis telling them that tech guys are Valuable so everything they do is OK forever. One of my main coping mechanisms was to get heavily into metal and harsh noise: anything with a cathartically brutal wall-of-sound quality and no discernible lyrics to speak of, that prevented me from having to hear anyone around me or even think about other people and their emotions. This kind of music became a huge passion for me, so in a way it was a net positive experience.

Nowadays I don't have a lot of time for music, which seems crazy even to me, like I don't want to be one of those sociopaths who say they don't listen to music! I just have to spend a LOT of time watching movies, when I have time for A/V entertainment, and I don't drive or have a commute anymore, so that's pretty limiting. When I do have time for music, it's a weird 7-10 split of trashy hype dance music like Atari Teenage Riot or Rob Zombie (or other things I'm too embarrassed to mention atm) to burn off my anxiety and give me a temporary ego boost that I can feel ashamed of later, and on the other hand, really heady, long ambient or experimental compositions, preferably with no vox. I think I'd like to get more into jazz and classical music and I occasionally go down a youtube rabbit hole that I really enjoy, but not much sticks because it turns into information overload and I get distracted.

Sometimes for whatever neurotic reason I have this allergic reaction to our collective preciousness about Human Drama, like why don't we have anything better to think about? There's some Herzog quote, I won't know how to find it, where he wonders why people always make movies about interpersonal problems, why not the drama of insect life, of cellular activities, of geological metamorphosis? And I really feel that way, often. But for some reason I am now dreaming that I've found some thoughtful, poignant indie rock band with lyrics about life and relationships and stuff that I cannot get enough of and I'm telling the world. I wonder what shifted to make me imagine that.

#i wonder if this is related to the same thing that's making me look for a therapist again

[valeskakingdom]

The Last Laugh (part 15)

*Tonight at the charity*

"Look, J! There's so many people out there!" Scarlet grinned when she peaked through the curtain. So many people arrived, so many high authorities sat down on the round tables and waited for the show to start "I don't even have enough monition and knives for that, I guess!"

"Already solved that problem, doll" Jerome smirked, tugging on his white glove he put on for his magician costume "They simply become a part of my show." He glanced at her "So, how do I look like?"

"Hm," Scarlet turned to him, viewing him from head to toe with a grimace - she didn't like that costume at all. It made him look so stupid in her opinion, it made him unattractive "You look like an old desperate man who doesn't know how to earn money."

"But this desperate man knows how to kill them all" Jerome grinned wide, spreading his "This man knows how to get all their attention with a finger snip. He will enchant the audience with his appearance, with his looks and his entity. The audience will love him of course. How could they not?"

"This man might be a great magician," Scarlet smirked for herself "But," she bit her lower lip "Is this man able to enchant me, too? I mean, I'm not any of these...stupid snobs out there who believe everything you do and say." She wanted to challenge him so bad. She wanted him to seduce her, to tease her, to make her moan with his touch and his harsh bites. She wanted to tear that shitty costume off his body and see her pretty partner in crime again - she wanted him right now, right here.

"Come here, doll" Jerome pointed with his fingers at her, showing her she should come closer - and she did. With a grin she stepped closer to him slowly, letting him cup her face softly and stare into her now shining eyes "Beautiful," Jerome smirked "Mmmm you're a big girl with big power. You have things no man can resist, which makes you such a beast for everyone out there. How many guys would run after you if you walked down the street like a normal teenage girl?" Jerome pulled the fake beard down from his face and pressed his lips on her "Good, that I don't need to share."

And again he pressed his lips on hers, but this time more intensed. He bit and nibbled on her lower lip, even sucking on it to make her moan, maybe also to make her horny again.

Somehow yoh could say, her challenging turned him on - he liked challenges a lot, especially some like these. 

"Without further ado, please allow me to present you the Great Rodolfo!" The man on stage claimed, you could hear the applause. Everyone was expecting Jerome's appearance now. They waited for the big magician that should trick their eyes.

"Ah, my turn" Jerome interrupted the kiss, his eyes were on the stage, then he pecked Scarlet's lips "Enjoy the show doll!" And so he went on stage, leaving Scarlet there all alone - but of course she would be a part of the show as well. He'd never forget his precious.

"Ha! Greetings ladies and germs," Jerome walked on stage "I am indeed the Great Rodolfo! Please ogle my lovely assistant. Ohh, for my first act, I'll require a volunteer. Let me see," He looked through the people "Duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, duck, goose!" Jerome pointed at Bruce Wayne, the richest orphan in Gotham that was hated by every villain - really, everyone wanted to kill him.

"Hello, young man. Does this handsome gentleman have a name?" Jerome snirked at him, the thoughts how he would kill him just pleased him a lot. Now would be his chance to kill him! Now he wished to have a knife that he could ramm into Bruce' body - but he also knew the perfect time didn't have come yet.

"Bruce." The young boy responded not knowing what was about to happen soon.

"Bruce! Well, Bruce. This won't hurt a bit." He clapped two great blades together "Is there a doctor in the house?" Jerome sticked one of the blades in the box along with the other one. The audience gasped, then applauded him. They all were astonished by this magic trick. How could he not hurt this little boy even though he was ramming a blade in his body? It had to be impossible! - actually, clear to see it was not.

While watching Scarlet was amused and almost a little irritated that nobody recognized Jerome. Like it was actually clear it was him. His voice, his eyes, also his acting - nothing of it really changed so how could they not see it? Were they dumb? Did they nit watch the news? Do they even know him? It was almost unbelievable, she thought - but even better for her and him. With it, they just could continue their little show.

"Some people say Bruce has a split personality." Jerome laughed loud while Barbara brought the little kid back to his actual place "For my next illusion, I'd like to call to the stage esteemed Deputy Major Harrison Kane."

Barbara pushed a rolling table, covered with a tarp, forward that it stood in front of Jerome. She pulled the tarp back and you could see any kind of knives laying down there.

The next upcoming trick made Scarlet excited a lot. Is Jerome still playing with him or is he about to kill that guy? She hoped for the second but sadly, she knew by herself that the time to kill hasn't come yet. She'd ne surprised if Jerome changed the plans - but this would be rather unlikely.

Barbara bended down making the others noticed the next illusion was incoming. But a mistake happened, her mask fell down. Scarlet became a but tensed since she didn't know in how far the Deputy knew Barbara and her past stories. As a deputy he should know about the most wanted killers and criminals in Gotham - and Barbara was one of them.

But Barbara kept being professional. Nobody made a move to start panicking or to call the police. Everything stayed normal. Apparently the deputy didn't recognize her - luckily.

Jerome saw this too, and even though it wasn't the actual moment to kill, he decided to change the plans.

"By the way, nobody is getting out here alive." At first the crowd laughed because they thought he was just joking - of course, he did not. Jerome killed the Deputy by throwing a knife into his thorax and the gunfire started by one of Theo's men. People were screaming and hiding in hope they weren't the next victim. They panicked, they cried and were scared to really not coming out alive.

"Tadaaa!" Jerome cheered and laughed loudly, throwing his arms in the air. He totally enjoyed the chaos as he always did. He enjoyed it when Theo's men and others started to fist fight, he started to laugh when people got harmed by the shooting, he loved to see people runnjng away from this huge mess. But then, an idea came up. Why did his precious Scarlet need to sit backstage now? She would miss all the fun right now.

"Come here, dollface, and enjoy the fun with me," Jerome shouted with a grin "See what wonderful mess I have made" he cackled, jogging to the backstage to Scarlet who was longing for his appearance already. Her smile went from one ear to another when he walked to her, his arms reached out to her to signal her it was time for her to come on stage. Scarlet jumped up of course, grabbing his hand and full of euphoria, she lead him on stage. She was excited to finally be a part of the show, finally she could kill some people and do some little tricks on them.

"Wonderful!" She cackled, being astonished of the gunfire, the dead and hurt people, the screaming and fearful people that were running around "Time for me to show my presence" she grabbed her gun and shot at the people laughing. She hit a few, some were hurt bad, some were afraid to die even - but Scarlet would never think of stopping it. She just kept going. She enjoyed the amount of blood and fear that filled the room like water filling a glass.

While Jerome as Scarlet were both laughing and enjoying the situation, two of Jerome's men walked to the stage with a strange lady in a black glittering dress. She facial expression was full of hate, but also a little mix of fear and respect. She knew who stood in front of her. She knew it wasn't the right moment to make any fun with Jerome and Scarlet - especially not now where they gained the mastery of the whole situation and the happening.

And this woman was no other than Lee Thompkins. She was Jim Gordon's new girlfriend after Barbara and him obviously split up for some certain reasons. It was said, James loved her more than anything and this was a person option to blackmail him.

"Oh, I see we've got some special guest here," Jerome grinned wide "How's Jimbo? Still alive? Haven't seen him in a while," Jerome walked from one side to another "What can I say? The thrill when my precious and I spread chaos over Gotham and he's trying to catch us," Jerome paused with an relieved sigh "I'm about to say it already became a part of our shows"

"You know what, J?" Scarlet came up with an spontaneous idea "Let's contact him! I'm sure he's quite in the near of us since lil Thompkins didn't escape the gunfire. He'd be worried, don't you think? I mean he should be worried about you because," Scarlet sighed shrugging "I was not planning on keeping you alive"

"That's a great idea, doll," Jerome grinned wide, he indeed loved her idea - well, actually both of them - then he looked at one of the guys "Bring her to the big wheel! She's got a bag?"

"Yes, here it is," One of the men was holding a black leather bag up, rummaging around for the phone until he found it to give it Jerome. Jerome surely was excited for the call. How would Jimbo react when he finds out it was not his beloved girlfriend on call - it was him.

"Oh, Jimbo, Jimbo, Jimbo," Jerome chuckled darkly when starting to call him "May God have mercy upon my enemies 'cause I won't." He cackled while waiting for Jim to answer the call - and then he finally did.

"Lee, thank God. I've been trying to-..." you heard him through the phone but Jerome interrupted him immediately - Jim had to know, of course, that Lee was absent from her phone and that someone way better was talking to him.

"Sorry, Jimbo, it's just little old me." You could already Jerome's grin through the phone, it was marvelous. He was so excited to talk to him, but he was even more excited to know that Jim wouldn't dare to quit the call as he wouldn't dare to refuse any of Jerome's demands and wishes. He could blackmail him as much as he wanted, he could ask for any wish and Jim would fulfill it because he was too scared that his lil Lee Thompkins got hurt.

"Jerome" Jim spatted, he knew he was fucked now, as he knew Jerome would hurt Lee if Jim didn't obey. He needed to be careful now, he needed to carefully listen what Jerome demanded now. He had to fulfill it anyhow because if not Lee would be dead, on the other hand Jerome would just play him if James gave in. So actually giving in was no option as well. So what should he do now? He had to find a plan now immediately.

"Are you outside?" Jerome mockingly gasped, thinking of another idea "You are, aren't you? Oh goody!" He cackled. It was so fun to him, having a desperate man on the phone who had no clue what to do.

"I swear to God, if you've hurt her-..." Jim wanted to start threatening him, but again Jerome interrupted him.

"Breathe James," Jerome's stayed calm "I haven't touched a hair on your girlfriend's pretty head. See for yourself. This is live television after all." He laughed loudly. Then Jerome and Barbara tied Lee up on that big wheel pretending to shoot her head. It was all to entertain the crowd, to make them love. No one loved though - besides Scarlet. She loved the whole show, she totally enjoyed it.

"You son of a bitch" Jim muttered through the phone.

"True, but not the point. Hey, let's talk about what I want." Jerome walked down the stage closer to the camera "$47 million, a helicopter, obviously, the dry cleaning I left at Mr. Chang's be careful, the man is a crook, and mm, I don't know, a pony for my precious doll. Uh, you got ten minutes or I start killing people. Remember this is being broadcast to every home in Gotham, so, don't let people die. Bye!" Jerome laughed into the phone as he hung up "I think that went well." Jerome looked at scarlet giving her a wink with a smile.

"I think that went well" Jerome said cackling through the phone and through the camera, that was positioned right in front of him before he hung up the phone.

"Hey, J, why don't we just start killing people now? Why should we give lil Jim ten minutes to prepare himself for the worst?" Scarlet suggested with a grin, walking towards him and Lee "It would just increase the fun with Jimbo"

"Enough! You need to pack up your pathetic little sideshow and leave!" You suddenly heard Theo yelling from the other side of the stage, then strolling over to Jerome and Scarlet. Everyone were confused. What was he doing here? Was he trying to stop them? Or did this still belong to the show?

"Is that right?" Jerome grinned at him. He stayed calm after all. Whatever Theo has planned now, it surely wasnt a bad thing or something. He always wanted to profit, right?

"It may be presumptuous to speak for all citizens of Gotham. But we are sick of you! You're a small, vicious man with a pathetic need for attention. Enough man, for God's sake, enough!"

I'm curious what your leverage is here, Mr.?" Jerome played along now. Let's say he was kinda curious where this whole 'I'm a savior' went. Scarlet though was suspicious. She also knew Theo just wanted to benefit from several actions and situations, but how would he benefit now? Should the others see what a good man he was? Probably, since he wanted to become major. But a good man did not distinguish just a good speech - deeds distinguished a good man even more.

"Theo Galavan"

"Well, Mr. Theo Galavan, if you don't sit down, uh, I'm gonna shoot you. In your face." Jerome simply said, walking around to Scarlet "Or Scarlet stabs you in your chest? She's craving for another kill"

"I know there is some human decency left in you. If you need a hostage, take me. But let these people go home! To their families, to their children." Before Theo could continue his speech, Barbara knocked him out with a some kind of pan. People started to scream again, while Scarlet bursted out in laughter. It was so funny for her, Theo was about to hold an impressive speech but got easily knocked out with a pan - marvellous!

"Boring" Barbara stated.

"Right" Jerome cackled loudly, the cupped Scarlet's cheeks softly with a grin "Do you enjoy the show doll?"

"Oh, I do, J" Scarlet grinned "How about we play some little games with our spectators? The show just has started, right?" Jerome just smirked at her for a while when she said that. He loved her euphoria - it now brought him to an idea.

"Wanna be the star in the show, doll?" Jerome stroke with his thumbs over her cheeks with a smirk. He loved seeing her shining eyes whenever she was glaring at him. Believe it or not, but you could say it almost made him a little happy to see how much he was affecting her.

"Always, J," Scarlet smirked wide.

"So, my lads and germs!" Jerome turned to the frightened audience. What will happen next? They thought, what does he plan on them now? "For my next act, I need a volunteer," he paused, looking through the audience "No, no, no, no, too old, no, no," he paused again, seeing a middle aged guy and pointed at him with his index finger "You!"

In this moment, Barbara strolled over to the certain man with an mischievous grin, she knew Jerome had a glorious idea in mind.

The man though was not really excited for it, he was scared. Like the aufience he wondered what Jerome was about to do with him, will he die? Will he be tortured? Or will Jerome have mercy this time and leave him alive? He didn't know. He hoped for the best, but honestly expected the worst.

When the man came with Barbara on stage, his body shakened in fear - his fear even increased when Barbara placed an apple on the top of his baldy head. Staring at Jerome, he hoped he wouldn't be a part of an extremely violent attraction. He hoped for mercy, he hoped for a painless death if Jerome was about to kill him.

"Shoot the apple, my precious!" Jerome grabbed a gun from under his shirt and handed it her. At the same time, he wrapped an arm around her waist and took a step behind her. He want to be as close as possible to her when she was giving the shot. He wanted to feel the same energy she felt when her adrenaline was pumping through her veins, he wanted to experience the same thrill as she did.

"With the greatest of pleasure" Scarlet locked the gun and appealed to the apple. Honestly, she was thinking whether she should just shoot the apple or shot this man in the head. It would be funnier. Killing a man with letting him believe to just shot at a simlle object. It would resemble a surprise.

"Hold very still." Jerome growled at the man, then he covered his eyes with one hand "I can't look! Someone tell me how it turns out."

Scarlet inhaled deeply and concentrated on the apple. She felt this certain energy already, she felt this thrill when her body was covered with pins and needles. She had this certain cribbling in her finger tips that just encouraged her to pull the trigger right now.

But as she pulled the trigger, just water came out and splashed into the old man's face. Scarlet frowned a little in confusion, thinking Jerome jerked her around with that toy. It would be typical for Jerome - always tried to be funny.

"Damn! Turn around." The man looked at Scarlet in fear and turned around. With his eyes he literally begged her not to shoot or at least to hit the apple. He was about to stop moving as she shot the apple from his head suddenly - he didn't expect it was coning that dast. The crowd gasps in shock and relief that the guy wasn't dead yet.

"Whoo!" Barbara cheered happily. She was the only one who applauded though - and this was a no go for Jerome. His precious doll presented something, she was the star in the show, she was the one who shot the apple from someone's head! This deserved applause! Thid deserved cheering! This deserved much attention!

"Well, clap!" Jerome shouted kinda aggressively to the crowd - then they did it. Nervously and fast. He laughed slightly pressing a kiss on Scarlet's cheek "Well done, doll."

"Thank you, Jerome." Scarlet grinned. He took the gun out of her hands and placed it on the table with the knives. Then he kept staring at them for a while, you could see he was thinking about something.

"What knife do you prefer?" Jerome asked her "I think about something sharp and long" hr stroke with his index finger over the blade sloely, feeling the sharpness of the knife that almost cut a wound in his finger.

Before you could answer though, Lee kicked Barbara in the stomach making her grunt all of a sudden. Scarlet's attention was awakened. Why did Lee kick her? What did happen anyhow? Were they about to start a huge fight? With scratching? Biting? Kicking? Slapping? And tearing hair from the head?

As Barbara looked up at Lee, you could see fury was written in her face. She was angry, mad...these words just described a very small part of her feeling. It was incredible how much hate a person could express.

"Haven't been ten minutes," Jerome hissed holding Barbara's arm tight that she was unable to stab Lee "We need to buy you a watch." Soon as Jerome turned around back to you Barbara punched Lee in her face. The crowd and you all gasped in surprise. Jerome instead, just looked at Scarlet shaking his head in disappointment. He hated the female mankind. They always ruined his plans in any way. That was not perfect, this was wrong, no it had to be different - women were terrible. He needed to change everything now.

"Well, I think it's time for tonight's first official victim. You all know and love. Poor rich boy...Parents murdered in an alley, and my favorite volunteer: Where is Bruce Wayne?" Jerome claimed waiting for the little boy's appearance - he didn't come though. Everyone looked around for the boy hoping he would come. They, as you, knew what would happen if he did - someone will die.

"You know, I'm an orphan, too, Bruce? I killed my parents, though." Jerome spoke to the microphone, then stepped away from it "Where are you hiding?"

"Bruce!" Jerome screamed in anger making you flinch a little - you were always surprised about his temper. It came rapidly and was gone after a few seconds "Where are you buddy?!"

"That little kid's afraid of you, Jerome." Scarlet giggled wrapping your arms around his torso "Give that boy some time to realize how much fun he's gonna have with you."

"We don't have time, right now. We have a plan to follow." Jerome grumbled looking around for Bruce and slightly pushing you away from him. In your eyes, Jerome was  a mix of an infant and a monster or the evil itself. His impatience reminded you of a child that didn't get his will. And his eye expression expressed fury, evil and the strong wish to kill the kid. It was fascinating, and almost frightening.

"Kill his butler!"" Barbara suggested.

"Alright, last chance Bruce but it's about to get very butler-brainy out here." Jeromekept looking around. While that, some of Jerome's colleagues grabbed the butler's arms right pushing him forward to Jerome. He was an older tall man in a black tuxedo looking very concerned for the little boy - understandable.

"Brucey!" Jerome yelled looking through the crowd but the boy still didn't appear "I'm bored. Shoot the butler." He gave Scarlet a nod that she should kill the butler inmediately, Bruce shoud finally crawl out of his little hole, out of his hiding place. Jerome had no time fir sny stupid games.

"Stop!" Bruce claimed panicking and ran fast in front of the stage to his poor butler.

"Let's get this started, huh?" Jerome gasped pulling Bruce back while pointing a gun at his head "You! Check behind the curtain! Make sure no one's playing silly buggers" One of Jerome's colleagues nodded and walked to the curtain. He moved it aside the entrance,  he got shot.

"Drop the knife!" James Gordon shouted pointing a gun at Jerome, but he just laughed and pressed the young Bruce Wayne in front of his body, a sharp blade was pressed on his throat almost cutting his thin skin "I don't have a clean shot!"

"Stay calm, Bruce." The butler tried to encourage the little boy after he took a gun, as well, pointing it at Jerome. He totally ignored what Gordon said. His mind was all around Bruce.

"It seems like we've got ourselves a pickle." Jerome stopped laughing but pressing a knife against Bruce's throat. "What do you say Brucey boy? Wanna boost our ratings, huh?" Jerome cackled insanely again "Smile."

"I said enough!"  All of a sudden Theo appeared behind Jerome. He looked mad, very mad as if he wanted to take revenge on Jerome or Barbara for hitting a pan on his head. Scarlet was a little confused, whenfid he wake up from his little sleep? When did he get up again? She hasn't noticed anything. She was too focused on Jerome's work. But his appearance made him thinking now. Was he really taking revenge on them all? And if yes, how? Did he want to hit them with a pan as well or what? Or did he plan on something in that short time? She wasn't sure, but her feeling was anything but good.

And her feeling didn't delude her.Shortly after Jerome turned to him slowly, Theo stabbed a knife into his neck.

When Scaret saw this horrible deed, she felt that something died in her. It wasn't feelings, she had none. It was something else, like a part of her own body athrophied, or like a part of her body just fell apart. It caused chaos in her mind. She wasn't sure whether she felt anger and madness, or just emptiness. She wasn't sure what to feel anyhow. She thought Jerome would or even could never leave her in any way. They were like something that was glued together. No one could tear them apart no matter how much people tore on it.

But now, everything would change. There was no 'us' anymore for Scarlet. There was no time to make plans together anymore. There was no time laughing together anymore. Nothing could be done together anymore. There was just her, all alone in this damned world. She had to deal with the world alone now, it was just her who ruled how to continue.

Scarlet just glared at Theo, clenching her fists in anger, even her whole body started to shake. Her breathing became heavier and faster - it resembled hyperventilating. She couldn't handle the situation. She thought she wouldn't have something like foibles - but she noticed Jerome was her biggest foible. He made her weak, he had control over her. She was dependent on him. He manipulated her. He wrapped her around his finger. And now she was a helpless dear, not knowing what to do anymore - and all that because of Theo. He had to die, that was clear. He deserved it for what he has done. But how? No death was good enough to heal the wound in Scarlet's soul.

"I know, I know." He pressed Jerome down to the ground "Im so sorry, Jerome. You have real talent. But now you see, the plot thickens. Enter the hero." Theo grinned slightly.

"I was gonna be.." With his last breath and his last courage, he looked up to Scarlet still having a grin in his face. His mouth opened shortly as if he was about to say something to her, but too late - he was dead. When Theo noticed that, he slowly pulled out the knife from his neck and looked up at Scaret in expectancy. He waited for her to say something. He waited for her to react. He hoped for her to break out in tears, to show her vulnerability. He hoped to see her bowing down for him - but all his hope stayed a wish.

"I'm impressed, T" Scarlet started to laugh maniacally and hysterically, applauding - she couldn't control herself anymore "But what's the point in it? Did you think I'd cry over this clown?" She really couldn't stop laughing now "Oh no, he was just a little boy toy for me. Nothing that would mean a thing to me." She lied, Jerome obviously did mean something to her "But you know, there was still something on him that fascinated me. Something that impressed me, something... that made me addicted to him. So, I'd like to join your little game." She slowly walked towards him "So run"

#jerome valeska #gotham #dcmultiverse #dc #jerome valeska x reader #dc villains #dc villian #gotham city #gotham fandom #gotham jerome valeska #gotham jerome #gotham series #gotham fanfic #jerome valeska fandom #jerome valeska x you #cameron monaghan x reader #gotham x reader #dc universe #jerome x reader #cameronmonaghan

[spicy-cannoli]

Oh! I'm sorry, the way I read the post made it seem like you were implying that because Nancy was a teenager and traumatized, she wasn't capable of abusing her romantic partner and that kinda ticked me off. Sorry if my first ask came off as harsh. And I totally agree on not disliking characters for things they don't do! I tend to look at characters and judge their actions deeply before going...I really do not like this character. I think the one thing that gets people screaming that Nancy is abusive is that she is constantly belittling Steve's intelligence and he doesn't seem to have much of a support system (or friends) in Season 2 after he drops Tommy and Carol. She also, for lack of a better word, gaslights Steve after their argument in the bathroom, brushing off her words because she was drunk. We also see a lack of positive attention given by Nancy. It's clear that Steve adores Nancy but we don't see that in reverse. She admitted that she was only with Steve because she was waiting for Jonathan to be ready, so she just used Steve until she was ready. Which is shitty, but it also affected how she treated Steve in the relationship.

I personally don't think that she was abusive towards Steve, but she definitely could have been heading in that direction if their relationship went on for longer, but that's just my personal opinion.

Ooooh yeah i totally agree with you there! I don’t think she was abusive but she defo gaslight Steve a couple times, and her “you’re an idiot Steve Harrington” are only cute in certain scenes, patronising in some, and she seems to believe it more and more as time goes on.

I defo don’t ship Stancy, but yeah just bothered me seeing pol claim abuse when the worst shes done is typical teenager stuff. Like yeah I think its awful and messed up (really hate cheating) but I don’t think it abuse? Idk man, shes done awful shit and treated ppl like trash, we dont gotta make stuff up! Anyways yeah shes just patronising in general, to Barb, Steve, Jonathan, Robin etc, she acts like she knows more than anyone and while thats a part of her character the fact that everyone is like “damn you’re right Nancy you do know better than me, go off queen” bothers me and- ok im getting into a rant, lets stop now

[faintblueivy]

So Imagine...

A world where Bruce Wayne died as a child in that alley that day, Martha and Thomas Wayne grieve as normal parents. They DO NOT BECOME BATMAN AND JOKER. 

Nothing ever remains the same after losing their little boy. So, Thomas buries himself in his work and Martha drowns herself in depression and pain. They do therapy and it works a little and life becomes bearable but...not happy.

One day, Alfred badgers the couple to go out and relax a little and buys them tickets for a circus - Haly’s circus. Everything was going nice and dandy and Martha was in awe of this little acrobat as much as the rest of the crowd when suddenly the rope snaps and the boy’s parents fall to their deaths - right in front of him and the gathering. Thomas is quick to jump in to see if he could help them in any way but Martha can see it in his eyes that they are as dead as they can be. 

They return to home with heavy hearts and Martha can’t get the image of the little boy out of her head. His skin was a light shade of bronze but his dark hair and bright cerulean blue eyes reminded her so much of Bruce that her heart wouldn’t rest. So a few days later she uses her connections to know if the child is safe and well cared for, when to her immense horror, she is replied that he was shipped to Gotham Juvie due to the lack of foster homes. She is enraged.

She calls Thomas and Alfred and lets them know about the little acrobat’s situation and declares that she was going to adopt him. They hesitate a little but she is not to be deterred as she goes ahead and brings the little boy home. 

Richard John Grayson - Wayne. Or Dick, as he likes to call himself. 

He is adamant that he wants no parents and Martha is fine because not only that she is old enough to be not his mother but also because no child can ever be her Bruce.

“You can just call me Grandma then.” She tells him.

His eyes are wide but he nods and then smiles and Martha, in a long while, has never felt this happy. 

Her new Grandson, despite losing his parents, is a ray of sunshine with unlimited supply of energy and the cold and empty manor is warm and happy again. 

Dick is a little charmer and even after Thomas and Alfred’s initial reluctance, they immediately fall in love with the boy and one day, when Martha comes down to the morning breakfast, she hears a happy, deep rumble - one she has not heard in many years. Thomas is laughing. 

There on the dining table, seated beside Dick, was Thomas laughing. Her eyes water at the scene and Alfred, who is standing beside her offers her a handkerchief. None of them mention how his own eyes are wet too.

 ...

Dick is sixteen, a brilliant boy in academics as much as they disinterest him but an invincible athlete. Martha has been told time and time again that her grandson is undoubtedly a international level gymnast. But he is a teenager.

And teenagers steal their grandparent’s ‘coolest’ car and rush off into the night. But they don’t come back with a little battered and bruised, homeless kid tucked under their arm.

“He had jacked three tires off your car. When I confronted him, he tried to hit me with a tire iron.” He says, amused, as Thomas tries to convince the child to show him his injuries.

“I didn’t do nothin’! He’s a fuckin’ big boob liar!” They boy screams, his blue green eyes glaring daggers at Dick.

“Language.” Both her and Alfred warn simultaneously.

After hours of struggle, interrogation and fuck you’s, Martha learns that the child’s name is Jason. He is twelve. Mother died form drug overdosing and Dad is a petty henchman of some crime lord. He ran away from multiple foster homes because they are so abusive that the child feels safer on streets. 

Martha goes on a rampage over Gotham’s foster care after that. She did not donate millions of dollars annually for children to feel safer on streets. After of lot of talks and reassurances and promises, Martha acquires her second grandchild.

Jason Peter Todd - Wayne. 

Jason is tiny. Malnourished like Leslie said. But he is sharp, observant and hungry for knowledge. Martha and Alfred joke that Jason is Thomas' soul child. Where Dick had loved activity and movement, Jason liked quiet and stability - Martha thinks that running and fighting for survival on streets every single day does that you. So evenings often found her and Dick in the garden but Thomas and Jason in the library pouring over as many books as they can.

And to nobody's surprise, despite their rocky start, the boys become inseparable. They are outwardly different, with clashing interests and behaviors but Martha can see that they both carry the same cores of light.  

When the morning of Dick’s Parent’s death anniversary comes around, both her and Thomas find Jason on Dick’s bed, arms curled protectively around his big brother. For the first time in so many years, Dick wakes up to warmth surrounding him, not nightmares. 

...

Both her grandsons attend Gotham Academy so when she receives a phone call from the Principal, she is half surprised and half not. When she enters the Principal’s office, both her boys are standing on one side, Jason with his head hung in shame and Dick glaring daggers at the other side. The boy who seems to be injured is being coddled by his mother who is shooting nasty glares at her grandchildren periodically. 

Then she notices another small boy standing beside her boys, trying to melt into the wall.

Tim Drake. The only son of Jack and Janet Drake of Drake Industries.    

She arches a questioning eyebrow at Dick who shakes his head and then she turns to the Principal. 

“What happened here?”

“Glad to see you’re here Mrs. Wayne.” The Principal says, pushing his glasses up his nose, “I regret to inform you that your ward Jason Peter Todd attacked this young man here.” He gestures to the other boy. 

“Madam, Gotham Academy is a prestigious school and we do not encourage physical violence here. Yes, it might have been acceptable from where he came from but it won’t be, here. I hope you give us the right to punish Mr. Todd here appropriately.” 

Martha inwardly bristles at the jab at her grandson and says crisply, “Mr. Wayne.”

“What?”

“He’s not just Todd. He is a Wayne. Please remember that.”

“Principal Sir.” Dick cuts in and Martha is confused because as hyperactive as Dick is, he is a mannerly child and knows better than to cut in a conversation like this but what draws her attention is the chilling tone which Dick almost never uses. Dick continues, “Why don’t you tell our grandmother more of your regrets? Or the prestigious Gotham Academy believes that bullying is acceptable.” 

Martha has been told what she needs to know. 

“Jason?” she calls out to her youngest grandson softly, “What happened?”

Jason is quiet when suddenly Tim Drake moves forward. She can see he is scared the way his hands shake but determination shines in his blue eyes. She likes him.

“I want to say something.”

He narrates the tale of how he was being bullied and how the boy on the other side with his mother threw his science project model away and broke it and physically tried to attack him when Jason stepped in to save him. Martha felt nothing but pride at Jason’s righteous indignation. 

Tim also explained that Jason exercised immense control even after these bullies called him ‘street rat’, but the verbal spar intensified after Dick was insulted for his Romani heritage, but it came to fist fight after Thomas and Martha were insulted, and Bruce’s death was made fun of.

Her gaze snaps to the other three occupants of the room and they are all in various shades of pale. Apparently, the Principal had not done his homework.

“Principal” She says icily, “Yes, I give you the authority to punish Jason appropriately but only when this young man here”, she gestures to the boy who was now cowering behind his mother, “Is dealt with in the same way.”

After threatening the Principal in soft words but harsh tone about not tolerating to having her grandsons bullied the next time, she grabs Jason’s hand to drag him away from these people who don’t deserve his company, when her eyes fall on the little trembling Tim. 

She offers him her hand.

He stares at it, shocked but after an encouraging smile from Dick and a small shove from Jason, he takes it shyly.

And since that day, Tim becomes a member of Martha’s family. The boys stay together so much that even Thomas forgets that Tim is not theirs. 

Tim’s upbringing sends Martha’s grandmother instincts on a haywire and she resents the Drakes for their criminal neglect towards Tim. 

It is rewarding that Tim flourishes in their attention. 

She learns that his hobby is Photography and he is excellent at it. And he is a genius when it comes to science, computers and gadgets. He likes crime thrillers movies and books and often picks them apart with his scarily good knowledge about forensics that leave the rest of the family in awe and slightly disturbed. 

The dam breaks when one day Jason and Dick return back from school telling her that Tim was absent today and they are worried about him. When they later sneak into the Drake mansion in the evening, Thomas receives a frantic call from their oldest grandchild that Tim was burning with fever. Because Thomas is a doctor, they save Tim before anything serious happens.

This time, it is Thomas who sues the Drakes for Tim’s custody after him and Jason had, had enough of ‘Timbo’s shitty parents’.

“Timothy?” Martha brushes his sweat soaked forehead gently. “Would you like to be a member of our family legally?"

Tim is hesitant about this but he admits that he likes Wayne manor much better than he ever liked Drake mansion. He confesses that he loves Jason and Dick as brothers and sees Martha, Thomas and Alfred as his grandparents as well.

The long custody battle ends with both Jack and Janet Drake dying at the hands of two different tragedies, leaving Tim an orphan, but also with a loving family consisting of three grandparents and two brothers by his side. 

Timothy Jackson Drake - Wayne is adopted into the Wayne family as her and Thomas’ third grandson.

...

A year after they adopt Tim, Thomas comes home with a small girl on his side. She is clearly an east Asian in heritage with dark hair and dark eyes and is speech deprived. Thomas is clearly distressed after Cassandra - her name is Cassandra - is safely secured in warm bed in a nice room across Jason’s. He calls her, the three boys and Alfred to his study to explain about the small girl. 

He talks about how Gordon brought the girl to him and after hours of wordless, signed and clumsily sketched on paper conversations with the little girl they were able to determine that Cassandra was hiding from her father who was an assassin and wanted to drag the little girl down the same path before she ran away. The more he talks about the damage and abuse the girl had experienced at the hands on her own father, the more furious Martha becomes. When Thomas’ explanations ends, Jason slams a punch into the wall making a dent but no one has the heart to reprimand him for that. 

The following morning, Martha can see that her three boys have unanimously decided that they are adopting Cassandra as their sister. She is treated like a Princess, and given the nick name ‘Cass’. 

Slowly but surely, Cass learns what it means to love through Dick’s bright kindness, Jason’s quiet protection and Tim’s infinite patience. After her father is finally apprehended, the family celebrates.

Cassandra Wayne, soon after, becomes the beloved Wayne Princess of Gotham. 

Martha and Thomas often accompany their only granddaughter to her speech therapy lessons, so after six months of her adoption, at dinner, she places a kiss on everyone’s forehead - her three brothers and three grandparents, stands at the head of the table and croaks out, slowly, “Thank...thank you.” All of them stare at her flabbergasted, but it appears that she was planning to shock them even more.

“You...Love. Love you...”

The silence that follows her broken but sure words is deafening. Surprisingly it is Tim who breaks it as he scrambles out of his chair and launches himself at Cass, wrapping his arms around her and both Jason and Dick follow him, grabbing both their youngest siblings fiercely.

A quiet sob breaks her out of the trance and she smiles when she watches Thomas furiously wiping his tears from the sleeve of his shirt. The last time he     had cried was at Bruce’s funeral. And Martha is infinitely grateful that this time these are happy tears. 

...

Sometimes Martha wonders what would have happened if Bruce had lived. If these children are her grandchildren then does that mean they are Bruce’s kids? Had Bruce lived, would he have accepted these gaggle of kids that her and Thomas have collected over the years as his own? Would he have kids of his own? 

Her questions are answered when one day she hears a slight commotion in the entrance is surprised to see a young woman with a sword threatening Alfred.

“I want to meet the Master of this house. Let them know immediately.” She demands in an authoritative but silky voice, and Martha suddenly sees the Toddler clutched in her arm. 

“What is it?” Martha speaks as soon as she can when the woman notices her. She looks surprised for a second but immediately schools her features as the baby fusses.

“You’re alive.” She whispers and before any of them could make an indignant comment about her wordings, she says, “It appears that I might have traveled in to the wrong universe.”

Now that is interesting. Martha lives in a world where they are protected by aliens...so, it is certainly worth hearing for. 

Martha offers the young lady an invitation for tea which she accepts. She notices how the woman carries herself with lethal grace and dignity as if she was a Princess but much more. As they sit and Alfred leaves to bring the promised team Martha notices how the woman’s eyes sweep over the place. 

“How may I help you?”

Her voice attracts the attention of the toddler and this time, he is not clutched tightly enough to his mother’s chest to turn his small head and look at her. Martha gasps. Because the child looks too much like Toddler Bruce. But instead of the blue eyes like her son, this child has glowing green ones, like his mother. But still, the resemblance is uncanny. 

“Yes, he is your son’s.” The woman answers the unasked question.

She is explained the existence of Multiverse, and it’s workings and how Bruce survived instead of them in that world, met Talia (the woman’s name is Talia Al Ghul) and had a child but had to leave. Talia mentions the reason she came here was because her son’s life was in danger and Talia’s father wanted to raise her son as an assassin Prince and a tool for him to use. Talia’s solution to protect her son was for her to give her son to the Bruce of this world to raise, since the Bruce of that world had gone missing.   

“I can raise him.” Martha suddenly declares and the woman looks at him shocked. “I will not raise him into a life of violence but I can certainly protect him and give him a happy civilian life.”

Talia looks unsure, hesitant, but says, “I...have been a warrior since the day I can remember. Never once have I ever thought of my son not being a warrior. He was...born to be one.” 

Martha smiles. “He doesn’t have to be one. Yes, his life will be infinitely different than the one you imagined but...he will be well loved and protected. I can assure you of that.”

“Damian.” Talia whispers as he deposits the baby in her arms after a lot of consideration. “His name is Damian.”

She looks at her son tenderly one last time and places a kiss on his forehead and Martha’s heart breaks a little for the young mother. 

“Will you return back for him?” Martha asks as she follows the Talia to the door.

“No.” Talia whispers, her voice strained. “I will not. Any action taken by me is monitored by my father closely. If I return back, then he might know that I have left Damian here and I cannot let that happen. He is yours, forever.”

Martha gives her a sad smile. “You’re a brave and good mother Talia. Thank you for doing what is best for your son.”

She nods, not turning to look at Damian one last time as she leaves the manor grounds, never to return. 

Martha looks at the baby secure in her arms and her lips quirk up into a grin at the sight of two curious green eyes watching her with interest. 

“Welcome to the family, little Damian.”

When she introduces the new addition to the family, Thomas is dumbfounded. Dick is ecstatic at the prospect of having a new baby brother, Jason is secretly pleased, Cass is happiest and Tim looks unsure.

That’s how Damian Wayne - Al Ghul joins the family.

Damian fits in their home spectacularly. After few days of hesitation, like he had with Dick, Thomas takes to Damian quickly. He has an epic competition going on with their eldest grandson to become the baby’s favorite. Damian refuses to sleep without Thomas but his tantrums are only controlled and won over by Dick. Damian loves Jason manhandling him and giggles happily when the older boy throws him in the air or swings him around. Damian loves Cassandra because she knows what he wants before any of them do. And Cass loves to carry her little brother around to watch birds and animals in the manor grounds.

The only person Damian seems to not get along with is Tim and the older boy seems not be fond of him either. Because Damian wants everything Tim does and the older brother has to compromise for Damian every time. But Martha has to bite laughs a lot now a days because almost everytime Damian falls asleep, it is with Tim in vicinity. And she has caught the older boy tenderly covering Damian in his favorite blanket more often than not. Martha thinks that this is kind of cute but keeps her opinion to herself. 

Her little grandson is quite protective of his siblings though. Anytime someone upsets any of his siblings, they are threatened with scowls, growls and even bites and stabbings in extreme cases.

Like last time when Mrs. Park made fun of Cassandra’s  speech impairment, Damian almost bit her finger off. Damian hates one of Dick’s racist colleague (they all do) so much that anytime the man enters his field of vision, the first thing Damian gets his hand on is thrown at the guy’s head. With deadly precision. And last time when Mr. Link had called Jason ‘street rat’ for personally volunteering charity work for poor and homeless, Damian had smeared his juice and drool covered hands on the Man’s thousand dollars suit. And when one time, a reporter had infiltrated a Gala and chased Tim around to ask uncomfortable questions about his parent’s death and the Wayne’s involvement in it, Damian, noticing Tim’s distress had stabbed the reporter with a fork with no hesitation. 

Martha is still not sure if she should encourage or reprimand Damian for that.

...

As she sits on the head of the table with Thomas on her side and Alfred on the other end, she wonders how miraculous it is for her to have all these children in her life. 

Dick is engaged in an animated conversation with Stephanie who was introduced to the family as Tim’s girlfriend. Barbara, the daughter of James Gordon and Dick’s girlfirend/or not was helping Cass pile up food on her plate. Damian and Tim were bickering over something as usual but Jason trying to hide his snickers in guise of drinking water which made Martha sure that the something was Jason’s doing.

These people were her family. The ones she had gained after losing Bruce. She wonders, if there was a universe where Bruce got to meet her grandchildren. 

Would he accept them? As family? 

Would he love them? As family? 

She brightly smiles when the multiple sets of eyes turn to her waiting for her to blow the candle.

“Happy Birthday Martha.”

Thomas says warmly, his voice thick with emotion and she meets his gaze and sees the love, affection and thankfulness in his eyes for this family that they had created after their earth shattering loss. She knows what she wants as she blows the candle on the cake flickering in front of her.

I wish for us to be family in every universe.

#batman #martha wayne #thomas wayne #bruce wayne #dick grayson #jason todd #Tim Drake #cassandra cain #Damian Wayne #wayne family #batfamily #batfam #stephanie brown #barbara gordon #nightwing #red hood #robin #batgirl #spoiler #black bat #orphan #this is fic? or not #batfam fanfiction #bat siblings #bat brothers #i like this idea #imagine if Bruce stumbles into this universe #dc #dc universe #found family

[gh0ulish-gh0st]

Mr. Beast’s Christmas Party - A Karl Jacobs x Reader Fic

CONTENT WARNING: 18+

Smut, Cunnilingus, Consent, Unprotected Sex, Fem Reader

Cross-posted on AO3

Karl Jacobs was not one to hate. Disliking people was just something he didn’t do, nor was it a thing people would think he was capable of. But he, and so many other people, were wrong. Because, oh boy, did he fucking hate you. 

From your stupid laugh, to the annoying crinkle in your eye when you smiled (but never at him), to that fucking annoying voice that lingered in his mind for hours after you spoke. Yeah, Karl Jacobs absolutely despised you. And he wasn’t the only one who felt that way. 

See, it had never been your intention to feel such strong resentment towards one guy, hell, you hadn’t even wanted to hate him. But he made it so damn difficult, with his whining, and the bickering, and the fact that he had made it your only option with how much he hated you. But in truth, you had always liked Karl, wanted to be his friend even, but he was impossible. 

So there the two of you sat, in not so silent hatred, bound to spend eons together because of your shared job. Mr. Beast was not an opportunity one passed up, and you and Karl had gained popularity the minute you both stepped onto the other side of the camera. With viewers rolling in and supporting you both, and a popular channel putting content featuring you out for millions to see, it was just a matter of who would snap first.

With Christmas just around the corner, the beast crew had decided to put together an ‘office party’ of sorts, which quickly transcended into drunken shenanigans and dumb games for teenagers. In fact, it had been a shitty dare given to you by Chris that had left Karl and yourself locked inside one of the many offices the warehouse had. 

The dare in question had seemed simple, “sort out your guys’ shit and we’ll let you out,” but with the two of you it could never be easy. No, the moment the door closed and locked behind you, the two of you had tumbled into a harsh silence, that of which couldn’t even be helped by a drunken haze (neither of you were big on drinking, and hadn’t touched a drop of alcohol since the party started). You were the first to break that silence.

"You know Karl, this wouldn't have happened if you weren't so fucking hellbent on hating me! I did everything to try and figure out why you couldn't stand me, and I always came up empty handed. The guys all tell me that it's some dumb male shit, but I just don't get it! Was I not nice enough? Not pretty enough? Did I say something wrong? What the fuck did I ever do to make you despise me so fucking much, Karl?" By the end of your speech, tears had started to slowly descend down your cheeks. Karl scoffed at this, backing you into a corner and trapping you in with his arms.

"You want to know what you did? Does it really mean that much to you? Pathetic. I'll tell you why I fucking hate you so much, then. It's because the moment you walked through that door, with your fucking pretty face and amazing fucking smile, you had me hooked. And I hated it, hated ever single time you made those fucking butterflies flare up in my stomach, and every time I wanted you to smile at me, to be talking to me, because you weren't. You weren't mine, and I knew you would never be mine. So, I hated you, because I wanted- I want you, so fucking bad and I can't have you." By now Karl was also crying, angry tears streaking his face and punctuating his words. He hadn't been lying, and his words caused a sob to break free from your throat. 

"Is this your idea of a confession, Karl? You made me think I had done something for a year, only to find out it was because you thought you couldn't have me? Are you fucking stupid? What gave you the idea that I wouldn't want you? Fuck, Karl, I spent all this time just trying to get you to like me, thinking maybe if you didn't hate me, maybe if we could be friends, that my dumb feelings for you would make sense. But you know what, they don't. Fuck you Karl, for making me want you so damn bad, for trying all this time to get you to see me as more than the dirt on your shoe, for watching you be good to the rest of the crew... For making me fall in love with a man I though I could never have." Your hands lightly bashed his chest, body weak from emotion and tears, and you hiccupped before you spoke once again, "fuck you." 

With the last bits of your energy drained, you slid down the wall, Karl following closely behind. Your eyes slowly moved up to meet his, which were just as sad as yours, just as heartbroken, and you cupped his cheek.

"If you want me so bad, then take me. Because I'm yours."

The kiss you shared was wet, salty from your tears, but it was perfect. The two of you poured all of your feeling out in that moment, the love, the hatred, jealousy and despair, and it was the best fucking kiss you had ever had. It was every unspoken 'I love you', every 'I'm sorry, I didn't mean it,' and every 'I forgive you'. It was raw, and sloppy, and it was so completely and totally you. Karl pulled away first.

"I have wanted this for so long, and I'm fine," he swallowed thickly, "I'm fine if this is all tonight is. I'm fine with just kissing, or even just that kiss, because it was amazing, but I want to do more. And I need, no, I want you to want that too, I want you to want that with me, but I need you to say it or I can't keep going." The look he was giving you was desperate, but it also held an understanding. Tonight was not about getting into your pants, that's not what this meant. Tonight was about connecting with you, in a deeper level, and fuck you wanted it to. You sucked in a nervous breath, swollen lips parting only slightly, and you uttered the words, "yes, please Karl." And that was all it took.

With a gentleness you have never known, Karl leaned forward and lightly pressed a kiss to your cheek, then nose, then your eyes, and the corners of your lips, and then finally, your lips. This one was much cleaner, gone were the tears, and in place of the earlier hesitance, there was a confidence like no other. It was a fire, a passion so strong it burned away any doubts about his feelings towards you, any doubts about continuing with him. Instead, this kiss ignited a feeling in your lower stomach, a heat that tingled across your flesh and targeted your lower regions. His shirt was the first to go. 

With shaking hands, you unbuttoned the white cloth and slowly pushed it off his shoulders, fingers brushing against his smooth skin, grazing the goosebumps left by the cold of the room. His hands trailed towards your back, gently grasping the zipped and lightly tugging. Just enough for the zipped to move, but not so much that you didn’t have time to change your mind. But you only pressed into him more, giving him permission to continue without your lips leaving his. 

The cool metal only just grazed your skin, before the fabric of the dress you wore lightly bunched and was slowly pulled off, hips raising off the ground just enough that he could bring it past your hips and down your legs, lips breaking for mere seconds before they met once again. Karl’s hands left your body, and he unbuckled his belt and slipped his slacks down as far as he could before he would have to break away to finish the job. With one last peck, he gently pulled away, and you whined at the loss of his mouth on yours. 

“ I know baby, but if we want to keep going you’re going to have to be patient.”  Karl grinned as he saw you bob your head up and down, vigorously nodding yes because you did not want to stop. You wanted to keep going, to have him on you again, in you, surrounding you completely. To just have him, in any way you could. “That’s my girl, so good for me.” His hands, which had finished taking off his last bits of clothes, inched towards your underwear, playing with the hem but not moving to take them off. 

“This still okay, love?” Once again, he was taking the time to make sure you were okay, not wanting to make you feel like you had to do this with him. “Yes, god yes. Please Karl, touch me already.” He chuckled at your enthusiasm, your willingness to submit to him, before he was pulling the damp garment from your body and replacing it with his fingers. 

He slowly ran them along your folds, periodically dipping one in to tease your entrance, before he finally slipped one inside. It was teasing, barely moving, and out of depersation for more you cried out. “Karl, please.” He only chuckled at you, not changing his pace but adding his thumb to the equation. It lazily circled your clit, enough to stimulate you, but not nearly enough to satisfy you. A sob ripped out of your throat, and agitated tears ripped your eyelids. 

“Shh, baby, I know. Just wait a little longer for me, alright doll?” You whimpered out a yes, and Karl began to move his fingers at a faster pace. More pressure, deeper, for your pleasure more than his. As much as he had loved seeing you squirm for him, desperate for me, he had wanted long enough to have you, and he would have more opportunities to take his time. He slipped in another finger, curling and scissoring them to spread you open for him. 

“You’re so cute for me, baby. So wet, so pretty crying for me. You gotta tell me if it’s too much, though. This isn’t just for me.” “Yes Karl, don’t stop. Please.” He gave you a quick kiss, before his head dipped down and his nose brushed against your hood. His breath tickled your lips, and the mixture of your wetness and the cold of the air made you shiver with delight. His tongue quickly replaced his fingers, dipping inside of you and tasting you. It thrust in shallowly, before moving up to circle around your clit and guide it into his await mouth, giving it a quick suck before it moved back down to stimulate you again. 

“Holy fuck, Karl, so good.” By now you were whining, approaching your high at a rapid pace. “Gonna cum, fuck I’m gonna cum.” Your words pushed him to go faster, to eat you out like it was all he knew how to do, and you came with a loud cry. It was a damn good thing Jimmy had this place soundproofed.  

Karl was smiling when he pulled away, gazing with adoration into your blissed out face. “So good for me baby, so good. Are you okay to keep going?” You smiled at his kindness, shaking legs hooking around his waist and pulling him in. “Yes Karl, I want you.” You kissed at the corners of his lips, and he giggled that adorable giggle of his that had you absolutely melting below him. This man was going to be the death of you. 

Karl reached for his pants, heading towards a pocket when you pulled him  back to you. “You don’t need to worry about that, as long as you're clean, I’m comfortable going without a condom. I’m on the pill anyways.” He groaned lowly, eyes slightly rolling back. “Fuck baby, are you sure? I’m clean, but I don’t mind using one.” You only nodded, pulling him back towards you and locking his hips between your thighs. 

“Yes, I am sure. I just need you to fuck me, right now.” Karl reached between the two of you, grabbing his cock and lining it up with you, gazing up into your eyes as he slowly pushed in. You were so warm, so inviting, and the picture on your face as he sunk into you was mind blowing. Your head was thrown back, eyes rolled to the back of your head with a wide smile on your face. All for him. He felt a swell of pride fill his belly at that, and the thought that it was him doing that to you, that he was with you, and you were enjoying it, had him moving at a quick and rough pace.

Your moans fueled him to push harder, encouraged him to keep going because he was making you feel good. His hand snuck down to your clit, and he circled it with a steady pressure that had you reeling back and seeing stars. How one man could make you feel so good was beyond you, but fuck was he doing. The only part that made it better was that it was Karl, the man you had been in love with for a whole year, and fuck, did knowing that he felt the same way make you feel so good. 

You were close again, that pulsing feeling in your stomach had returned, and the wetness that lubricated you began to increase. With a few final harsh thrusts, you came once again, moaning out your praise to Karl. His pace slowed, working at a more gentle, loving pace, and you found yourself asking him why he had slowed.

“Because, baby, I wanna go slow. I don’t just want to fuck you, I want to make love to you. I want this to be as special as it can be, seems as were in an office filled with friends and were fucking on the floor.” You found yourself falling in love with him all over again. Every other person that you had been with had only been interested in banging it out and getting their release, not once did they care about taking their time and having you enjoy yourself. Karl was different, he cared, and you enjoyed this much more than any other experience you had had in your life. 

His thrusts were deep, but they were slow, and gentle. His hips wound grind against yours every time he’d bottom out, gently coaxing you towards another climax, and his eyes gazed into your with love and affection. His rhythm was long gone, his release drawing nearer, but that was the farthest thing on his mind. He was more occupied with you, beautiful you, who was sprawled out below him and moaning his name. Who was looking at him like he was the only man in the world, who was smiling at him with pure happiness. You, who had just said the words he had wanted to hear for so long.

“I love you, Karl.” 

And just like that, he was done, your walls tightened around him so deliciously as you came that it had him finishing half a second later. Your name tumbled from his lips as he pumped in a few more times, before he lowered himself down and rested on your fast moving chest. His eyes moved to yours, as your hands came to mess with his hair that he had sworn he hated being touched, but now made him melt in contentedness, and he grinned up at you.

“I love you too.”

So maybe Karl Jacobs didn’t hate you, and maybe you didn’t hate him. Perhaps Chris had known this all along, maybe the others did too, but that didn’t matter. What mattered was that you were Karl’s, and Karl was yours, and neither of you would change anything that happened.

#karl jacobs x reader #karl jacobs x reader smut #smut #karl jacobs

[lonely-lost-soul]

Poff Poff

(Platonic C!Schlatt x Niece Reader)

Request 7: Can I request an Uncle Jschlatt and Niece reader? (Platonic ye) maybe Jschlatt could be out taking his niece to a late-night convenience store so they could late-night snack because both he and his niece had a bad day?

Requested by: Anonymous

AU where Puffy is Schlatt’s sister :)

~~~

Schlatt had, had a rough day, to say the least. He once again almost got banned for another scheme gone wrong. His election plans were set in motion but due to the statistics, it looked like he was losing and he was pissed off beyond belief. He had no plans for the rest of the day, all he wanted to do was relax with a drink and a cigarette, maybe watch a movie, just something to help him through the rest of this shitty ass day.

So, When Puffy had shown up on his doorstep and dropped you off to watch you while she went out his immediate response was no. He already smells like cigarette smoke and whiskey he shouldn’t be anywhere near a child. But one harsh glare from his sister made him shut his trap, he looked down at you and you looked just as unhappy to be there.

“Mom do I have to stay here, I’m old enough to stay on my own. Or even with Dream?” The angsty teen groaned tilting her head to the side, her little horns hitting her on the shoulder. Puffy let out a pinched huff pressing her fingers to her nose,

“You know Dreams out with George and Sapnap, plus you’re still too young to be left alone. So you’re staying with Uncle Schlatt until I get back from my date with Niki.”

“But-”

“Hush no butts. Now you.” She pointed a finger at Schlatt, “no smoking or drinking in front of my little Poff got it?” Schlatt rolled his eyes snarling over at his sister,

“Have a little faith in me, sis.” She shot him a look, and he wilted a little bit,

“Be good.”

“I will.” You groaned,

“Not talking to you.”

“I will.” The goat-man grumbled under his breath, finally seeming satisfied his sister departed leaving her equally hotheaded daughter by his side. “So...you smoke?”

“No Uncle Schlatt I don’t smoke,” You sighed a frown on your face usually that comment got a least a snort.

Oh no, not teenage angst.

You walked past him into his humble abode and plopped down on his couch, it also smelled like smoke, “How’s Quackity?”

“You mean Flatty Patty?” He smirked plopping down beside you scratching at his ear absentmindedly. You snickered, there it was,

“No I don’t, you know he hates when you call him that.” You nudged him gently, Schlatt ruffled your hair minding your horns. You huffed at him moving to fix your tousled hair,

“Alright, kid you got me. Now, what’s up with you?”

“Nothings wrong.” You muttered crossing your arms over your chest defensively, he shrugged his shoulders not bothering to push you. “Okay fine!” You blurted throwing your hands in the air, the man raised an eyebrow.

“I didn’t say anything-”

“It’s just Dream’s not been home lately and Mom’s not taking it well. Instead of trying to watch out for him n’ shit, she’s going on dates with Niki.” You groaned falling back against the couch, “When he does come home it’s just for food and to pet, his cat then leave. He barely even says hi to us anymore...we used to be so close. Now he just doesn’t care.” Your face fell and he frowned, Schlatt winced a little he was never known to be very good with comforting people let alone comforting women. He placed a hand on your shoulder and squeezed,

“He’ll come around kid, family’s, family you know?” He watched you shrug sadly and he rubbed his chin with his other hand.

He needed another cigarette right now.

You looked up at him and saw him tense, “You can smoke I don’t care.” You gave a little shrug, “either way I’m leaving here smelling like smoke Mom won’t be able to tell the difference.”

“Heh.” He chuckled roughly rubbing the back of his neck, “thank’s kid, I owe you one.” You nodded and watched as Schlatt pulled out his package of cigarettes and frowned seeing it was empty, “Ah fuck me.”

“You out?”

“Yeah. Would you be opposed to a quick drugstore run?” You shrugged your shoulders, indifferent.

“Sure could be fun. Could I get a snack?”

“You could get whatever you want, not payin’ for it.” You snorted loudly covering your mouth to hide your snort. “What? If you can steal it you can get whatever you want.”

“I’m not stealing anything Uncle Schlatt, that’s wrong.”

“Ugh. What’s my goody-two-shoes sister been teaching you?” His nose scrunched up in displeasure. “As long as you don’t get caught anything is legal kid. Stick with me and you’ll learn way more tips than that. I'm a professional.”

“Right cause doing that hasn’t gotten banned before.” You smirked and he glared at you pulling on your horn. The movement caused you to yelp in pain. “Joke! I was joking! Ow!” He muttered a ‘you better be’ before standing up from his couch. You followed him from the couch as he made his way to the door, he held it open for you and you snickered “What a gentlemen.”

“Don’t slander my name like that again.” He scoffed, “Follow me, don’t wander off.” Schlatt commanded as you followed him down to the nearest convenience store, “Go get something you like.” He shooed you off and requested the pack of cigarettes he needed making small talk with the store clerk while you wandered around. “Hurry up kid or you get nothing!”

“I’m coming!” You yelled back in your arms was a pack of sour patch watermelons, a chocolate bar, and some chips, “I got you chips.” Schlatt tried to bite back a smile but it came through anyway and it only made you smile in tandem. He paid for your goodies and you both headed out to go sit outside on a nearby bench. As you sat down you turned to stare at him dead in the eyes, he felt a little unsettled and watched as you slowly pulled out a little bag of popcorn. “I stole it.”

“Holy fuck kid you did it!” He burst into laughter ruffling your hair once again, “I’m proud of you.” You beamed brightly sitting up straighter on the bench, you opened the bag and popped a piece into your mouth. Schlatt reached forward and stole a handful from you, you ripped the bag away defensively and he snickered.

“Soo…” You trailed off softly and he raised an eyebrow at you, “You seemed to have a bad day too. You wanna talk about it?” His eyes widened in surprise, he didn’t take you to be so observant, then again you were Puffy’s child.

“Alright Poff,” he clicked his tongue distastefully and began to recount his woes to his child niece. Halfway through he pulled out a freshly bought cigarette and stuck it between his teeth. He pulled out a lighter flicking it a few times before lighting the cancer stick in his mouth and taking a long drag. You nodded your head in response and seemed to be listening intently to him, as he talked he felt his facade crumbling. The goat man slumped across the bench and was openly ranting to you at this point. “So yeah, that’s how my days going. Guess we both are doing pretty shitily huh?” You pursed your lips,

“Why don’t you ask Quackity to combine both of your votes the day of the election?” He looked at you with a raised eyebrow, you flushed nervously under his stern gaze. “Then you can be the President and he can be your Vice President or something...that way you both win in a way, ya know?”

“Kid…” Schlatt murmured thoughtfully rubbing his chin, “you’re a genius!” He wrapped you up in a hug, “this kid! I love ya! You’re too smart for your good!” You beamed letting out a happy laugh in response, “I’m contacting him immediately. Wilbur and Tommy don’t stand a fucking chance against me now.”

“I’m glad I can make you happy.” You snuggled into his arms but recoiled a little bit at the overwhelming scent of fresh smoke on his clothes, “you deserve it.” Schlatt felt his heart shutter a little at the inclination that he deserves to be happy, he was about to respond with a joke but you started talking again. “You’re a good guy Uncle. You don’t let people see it often but you’re an okay dude,” he watched you fiddle with your fingers as his eyebrows furrowed. He chuckled a little,

“Most people would disagree with you kid.”

“Well most people don’t know like mom and I do,” You pointed out, “Plus if you weren’t a nice guy you wouldn’t have tried to cheer me up.”

“I needed smokes.” He pointed out motioning to the stick in his mouth and you frowned a little.

Good, things were getting too mushy for his liking.

He was about to smirk in triumph but you turned towards him a determined look on your face. “My point still stands, for example, if you weren’t that great of a guy you wouldn’t have watched me today. You would’ve shut the door in Puffy’s face or you wouldn’t have listened and tried to comfort me. Therefore, my point still stands,” You shoved your finger in his face and he grumbled in displeasure. You smirked instead of him, getting the signature family smirk on your face it only made him frown deeper.

“Alright fine, but you tell anyone I’m slightly nice you’re cut off.”

“Cut off from what? You’re inheritance? You’re broke as shit.”

“You’re way too much like your mother.”

“Aw, you think so?” You flushed fondly, “Thanks!” You chirped proudly, puffing out your chest a little bit. He scoffed tugging on your horns once more and smirked as you yelped, “Would you stop doing that!”

“Nah I don’t think I will. Especially because I know it’s bothering you.”

“Asshole.”

“That’s more like it.”

You leaned back against the back of the bench with a loud groan throwing some popcorn at him. He snickered loudly, watching you closely all in all Schlatt did enjoy today. He kissed his teeth a little, you were way smarter than everyone seemingly gave you credit for, especially Dream. When Schlatt wins this election maybe he’d give you a position in his cabinet. He thinks you would like that, finally being able to show people who’s boss and what you’re capable of, yeah that’s what he’ll do. Reluctantly Schlatt pulled you close so your head rested against his shoulder, you smiled up at him softly, all in all, it was a good end to his day.

#c!schlatt x reader #platonic schlatt x reader #Platonic Schlatt x niece reader #c!jschlatt x reader #platonic jschlatt x reader #dreamsmp x you #dreamsmp x reader #mcyt x reader #mcyt x you #platonic x reader #platonic relationships #platonic mcyt x reader #minecraft fanfiction #minecraft x reader #minecraft x you #x reader #x you #x y/n

[just-a-quirkless-loser]

Invective Pain

Alpha Bakugou x F!Omega Reader

Words: 2.4k

Requested by: @goatsenpaiultimate

Hehe, sorry for the wait you guys. It’s been a rough few weeks for me. Also, the song ‘Butterfly’s Repose’ by Zabawa is amazing to listen to while you read this💜

Warnings: harsh language, Bakugou being an asshole, angst

“Get the fuck off me.”

“Alpha, please.”

“I said, get off. What the hell is wrong with you? You’ve been too clingy,” you prove his point and cling to his arm.

“I miss you,” you try to nuzzle his neck so he can scent you. With your wolf quirk, it was getting harder and harder to stay away from Bakugou for long periods of time. Your instincts were on hyperdrive, always wanting him within your reach so you knew he was safe.

“Don’t you understand what ‘no’ means?” Bakugou tenses up as you continue trying to climb his body. Due to his inability to express himself, he’s still not used to your affections.

“I can’t help it,” you ruffle your tail to prove your point.

“Well, try harder to help it.”

“But, alpha-“

“No, I’m sick and tired of your bullshit. As soon as I come home, you want to climb all over me. I can’t even take a fucking shower,” you hunch into yourself as you take a step away from him. Looking back on it, he did have a point. You could stand to at least allow him a few moments to himself before you bombard him. But, it’s just hard on you.

Because of your quirk, you’ve always been the type to cling to people and try to protect them. You miss your parents because you considered them to be your pack but, that all changed when you met Bakugou. After a few months of dating, you moved in with Bakugou (your inner Omega told you she’d love to start her own pack with him). However, it’s been a difficult transition.

Bakugou normally takes your clinginess in stride but, it’s been hard for him lately. All he wants to do is take you underneath him and nuzzle you and treat you like a queen. But, he’s been dealing with this case. It’s been stressing him out and he’s never been the type to deal with stress in a correct way.

“I’m sorry.”

“Fuck, I- FUCK! Omega. I just can’t keep doing this. You’re fucking annoying. This was a mistake. We shouldn’t have moved in together,” his words stung in your mind like a swarm of hornets, making you yelp in your mind. Although, no one would ever be able to tell your inner turmoil from the calm look on your face. Why does he have to tear you down with his words? What does he gain from your dissociation? Does it bring him satisfaction to win the argument? Even at the expense of your heart? The same heart he swore to protect when he chose you as a mate.

“I’m sorry,” and you don’t understand why. You just stand there with a blank expression, no longer feeling that your heart is safe in his hands. And, that is worse than losing an argument the two of you have.

“Sorry doesn’t cut it. I’m tired of you sticking to my fucking side like a toddler. You’re always hovering over me. I need space,” you intend to give him all the space he needs. “Selfish extra.”

He doesn’t know what his words do to you as he goes to the room you share, bumping you out of his way. You want to cry, you want to chirp, you want to-to-die; without him-without your alpha- what is there to live for?

Your omega crawls to your heart, shriveling up like a raisin as if your soul has been sucked by a vacuum. You feel your heart drop; the first sign of Omega Depression and you don’t tell Katsuki. How can you?

He made it clear how bothersome you were in his life. You never meant to be a burden to him. All you wanted to do was love him and give him the love he lacked from his teenage years. But, it’s transparent that you’re not wanted by the person your soul has imprinted upon.

You sit on the couch, staring into nothingness. What did you do wrong? What was so wrong with wanting to love him? You feel weak. Maybe if Katsuki had someone stronger, someone who could take his invective words in stride, he’d be happier.

As you wallow in your own pain, Katsuki is upstairs taking a shower. Part of him feels relieved to finally have some space to himself and the other scolds him for what said; he barely remembers what he said to you exactly. All he knows that your face is blank so, he assumes it’s not too bad since you weren’t crying.

He walks out of the shower expecting to see you but, he’s greeted with an empty bed. He figures you just want space to be angry so, he lets you stay downstairs.

‘It’ll be fine tomorrow,’ it won’t. As he dozes off to that thought, you were downstairs stuck in your mind. It's your fault for always forgiving him after he’s verbally ruined you You just thought your love for him outweighed anything he said to you. But, your unconditional love has reached its limit.

You wait till he falls asleep before you break the facade (you still want him to get his sleep so he can wake up healthy tomorrow). You heave and whimper as you curl into a ball on the cold living room floor. You shake from the force of your tears, tears falling like rain in the spring. You’re trying to smile to stop the tears but, your mouth ends up in a horrible grimace as you silently berate yourself. Your hands scrape at your arms, nails taking patches of your skin as a way to distract your mind. You don’t sleep that night; you don’t sleep for any of the nights that follow.

When you hear your alpha’s alarm clock sound, you climb on the couch with your face smooshed to the cushions. Katsuki follows his nightly routine, not even checking to see if you’re okay. He just gets dressed for his patrol and leaves breakfast on the table for you, kissing your hair goodbye before he leaves out the door.

You’re once again crying as you just lay there. You don’t bother to call your job to notify them of your absence. If anything, you just lay there, your tail curled around your body as if it’s protecting you from the world.

You feel useless against your heart because you know you shouldn’t have allowed Bakugou’s temper to get to this point. You had suggested therapy and anger management to him many times but, he was persistent in telling you that he had it under control. You knew he thought seeking therapy was weak (as he thinks most things are weak) but, you just wanted him to think before he spoke.

You can tell that he’s tried to do better for you and you appreciate that but, it’s not enough anymore.

This was the last straw. Not because you still don’t love him but, because you’re now in your Omega’s Depression. It’s a fairly new phenomenon. The doctors warned Omegas and Alphas that their second genders could drive them into a comatose state if the genders were met with unfavorable conditions. Your omega has started the process and you can only hope that Katsuki figures that out before it’s too late.

At first, Bakugou didn’t think anything about your attitude. He just thought you were giving him space (which he hated. It feels weird to him to be alone when he was always with you and he’s too prideful to admit that) however, he knows something is wrong when you start to avoid him.

You don’t talk to him like you use to, you don’t cook his favorite spicy ramen anymore, hell, you don’t even come to bed anymore. It’s like two strangers living in the same house (well, roommates would be more accurate). And, he misses you.

“Why are you sleeping on that shitty couch?” He’s standing above you with his arms folded, head to the side so he can hide his blush. You don’t respond, dried tear stains on your cheeks.

“Not gonna answer? What you’re too good to speak to me?” He squats down to eye-level. His breath fans across your face, the smokey caramel of his scent bringing more tears to your eyes. “Omega?”

You still don’t answer. He takes that as you still being angry about the argument; he also notes the change in your scent.

“Tch,” he walks to the bedroom and comes back with a few blankets so he can make a small hammock beside the couch at your side. He slips into the covers, hand upon your waist so he can feel you. “Goodnight, Omega.”

The next day, you’re still in the same spot on the couch above him. He does his routine, this time spending longer at saying goodbye.

“I’ll be back, Omega. Cuddling wouldn’t be the worse thing when I get home,” you stare blankly.

“And, I put some of your favorite cookies on the table,” still nothing.

“I love you,” nothing. And, that’s how he knows that everything is wrong. He spends the day on patrol, withdrawn from his hero-work. All he can think about is that blank look in your eye, the stillness of your home, the taste of failure on his tongue.

‘I fucked up,’ he sure did.

He comes home and you're still in the same spot. He doesn’t even think you got up to use the bathroom. You’re the first thing he attends to when his boots cross the threshold.

“Omega, you need a bath,” you don’t move so he picks you up bridal style and carries you to the bathroom. Your body is sweating and that stench gets even worse. “Omega, I’m sorry.”

But, sorry doesn’t fix everything. Sorry is nothing when you truly hurt someone. Sorry is when someone feels obligated to correct their wrongs (not because they want to). Sorry is the Black Licorice of apologies.

“Have you gone to work?” No. He knows you haven’t but, he just wants you to talk to him. His alpha cries for his mate yet, she doesn’t respond. “Baby?”

The bath is spent in silence as you sag on him. His hand's card through your (h/c) hair, trying to release some of your tension. It’s such an intimate moment of him caressing your body as though you are a precious work of art. His lips latched onto the mating mark on the side of your neck, reminding you that he cares.

When he gets you out of the tub, he dries you with your favorite fluffy towel. His carmine eyes gaze at you adoringly from your navel, blonde hair resting against your belly. One in a while, he’ll kiss your legs and feet, silently showing how much he truly cares for you.

Night rolls around and you both follow the same routine as before; you’re laying on the couch and he’s laying beside you on the floor. You’re not eating and that terrifies him. Sadly, this goes on for another month. And, Katsuki is growing desperate to have his omega back.

“I allowed my anger to do this to her- to me-to us. And, now, I don’t know if I can help her anymore,” he joined an anger management group (which, coincidentally helped his public image as well) after he realized the argument caused the rift in your relationship.

And, you’re proud of him on the inside, even if you can’t show it. At least he’s trying but, your omega just turns a blind eye to his efforts. You commend Katsuki for not giving up though.

‘It must be hard trying to change and improve for someone and they don’t even acknowledge your existence,’ you do feel bad for him. It seems that your love does outweigh his words.

But, you’re dying. He knows it. You know it. It’s known. He just won’t accept it.

“Omega,” you’re unconscious. He came home from the weekly session to find you unresponsive (well, more unresponsive than what you’ve been). “Omega, fuck-please-I God I, please wake up.”


So, you’re at the hospital now. The antiseptic burns your sensitive nose as you’re propped up on the hospital bed, sheets crinkling under your body. The doctors told Bakugou that you didn’t really have long to live but, he just can’t allow you to go without trying his best to save you.

“Omega, please, look at me,” you look at him but, it’s like you’re not seeing him. Your eyes don’t have the shine they used to. “Omega, please.”

You can’t answer him. What if you said the wrong thing? You were clinging to life by a single strand of fiber, death clinging to your scent. You knew you couldn’t handle it if Katsuki’s words hurt you once more.

“Please, talk to me, yell at me. Hit me. Do anything,” you can’t. Your voice is stuck in your mind. “Get mad. Throw something. Spit on me! Push me away. Shit, anything. Please just please please pleaseeee, fucking, please. PLEASE I’M NOT STRONG ENOUGH TO BE WITHOUT YOU. Please stop looking like you want to die.”

“But, I do,” you hope he can understand.

“NO! NO NO! I FUCKING NEED YOU. I LOVE YOU,” he chokes on his words as he gathers your face in his hands. “I’m such a piece of shit. It takes you dying for me to realize how much I love you. But, I do. I love you so much it hurts. I can’t lose you.”

“Wipe your tears,” you brush your thumbs across his cheek to gather his tears. “I’m right here.”

“How can you love me still? Your will to live is fucking weak and it’s my fault! And, I’m sitting here asking you to hold on for me. You don’t even have to speak to me. Just stay here. I promise I’ll stay here with you. You can’t leave me.”

“Bakugou-“

“For fuck's sake, It’s Katsuki to you! I did this to you. I’m so sorry for what I said. I’m sorry for pushing you away when I felt I didn’t deserve your love. I’m sorry for making you feel the pain I felt all these years. I’m sorry for being a shitty alpha,” he cries in your lap as you pat his back. Your omega stores, crooning to help her alpha. You’re not dead; the future may look bleak but, you know it will finally bring you the love you longed for.

————————————————————————-

Tag List💕

@orokayagi @sakurashortstack @sinclairsamess

#bnha #anime #bnha fanfiction #fanfic #mha #mha fanfiction #ao3 #author regrets nothing #fanfiction writer #omega reader #omega #omegaverse #alpha bakugou katsuki #bakugo x reader #bnha bakugou #we’re all quirkless losers #angst #bnha angst #mha angst #mean bakugou #katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki

[famigsart]

The fair had been Harleys idea. Ever since this basket case he considered a friend noticed his …interest in Dottie, she had made it her buisness to “make the magic happen!”

Not that Digger minded much. It wasn´t like…like he was bad at this whole dating people thing. He considered himself rather good at flirting up the cuties! Okay, did not work on that Sword Lady. Did not work on the security lady at BelleReve. Did also not work on that bar guy few weeks after. Neither on…you get the point. Other than getting laid here and there Digger hadn´t had too much luck lately.

So when Harley casually invited him, Abner…and for whatever reason Nanaue to the fair, Digger did not refuse. To his surprise neither did Abner. Right at the beginning, Harley grabbed Nanaue and ran off with the shark, ensuring Abner and Digger could walk over the fair togethere. The other man seemed to accept this rather quickly as he let Digger lead him on. Both probably didn´t have a lot of…nice childhood memories about fairs and such, so going there without the nostalgic feels wasn´t that great.

They ate the way too sweet junk food, rode the alarmingly rusty rides (those were fun at least as Abner clung to him the hole ride) and looked through the booths. At one booth, a kind of shooting gallery, Digger stopped. There was a unicorn plushy on display - a POLKADOT unicorn plushy! Digger was already buying a few shots when someone tugged at his sleeve. A teenage girl with blue hair stood beside him, looking somewhat grumpy.

“You don´t need to bother Mister. This booth is a scam! Me and my girlfriend just wasted our last fairmoney at this joke of a game…you cannot win here.”

The man inside of the booth just chased her off with some harsh words and turned to Digger. “Sore loosers those kids. Couldn´t even hit the target at ALL. Should have gotten themselves a boy to win them a price if you ask me.”

Digger honestly did not care. Not at all. He just wanted to win this unicorn, hand it to the shy man beside him and be an amazing date. Said shy man however seemed to care. He also tugge at Diggers sleeve and looked at him with tose big, sad, dark eyes. “Digger I´d rather go. I am not that good at aiming anyway.” Digger snorted, a little amused. “I promise this won´t take long Dottie. I just want to win you a nice little price and we are off to go, good?”

The owner of the booth raised an eyebrow, watching the two men critically. “Good luck with that.”

Just as the girl had said, the booth was a scam. The riffles aim was totally off and the target seemed to move just a little bit. After a few rounds Digger had enough. He grabbed the booth owner by the front of his shirt and almost pulled him out. “Wha-” “SHUT UP! Listen bloke, I am a simple man with simple demands. I. Want. My. Price. But with your shitty game here I can´t get it. So you are going to allow me to hit the target with these.” He pulled out one of his sharpened boomerangs and showed it to the other man. “And why on earth should I allow that…BLOKE?!”

Diggers voice dropped dangerously as he held the boomerang to the mans throat. Beside him Abner wheezed. If in panic or amusement Digger couldn´t tell. Dude often laughed when nervouse. A habbit Digger found cute. “Because if I can´t throw my boomerang at this target I will have no choise but to make YOU my target.”

…

Long story short, Captain Boomerang EMPTIED the booth. He won each of the girls a plushy…why? Because he was a show off and because it made Abner - who was pale and nervouse after Diggers little stunt - relax and actually smile a little bit. Than Harely and Nanaue showed up, having looked at the whole thing from afar. Both got a plushy too. And finally - he won the unicorn!

Abner hadn´t looked that amazed at first, seeing the rather silly looking plushy whish resembled his chronic illness. Digger hadn´t considered that one…but than Abner smiled shyly and patted the thing on its head. “It´s really fluffy.” He simply stated, still smiling. Digger laid an arm around the other mans shoulder and walked them away from the booth, feeling rather proud of himself.

Abner spoke up softly. “So…why did you win a…unicorn…for me?” Digger remembered something Harely said…something about Abner feeling uneasy about being…flamboyant. Better play this one safe than?

“Why? Mate unicorns are NEAT!” He pulled his coat a little and showed Abner what or rather who was sitting in the inside pocket of his coat. “And Pinky needs a friend!”

#abner krill #george digger harkness #shipping #harkrill #tss #Suicide Squad #captain boomerang #digger harkness #polkadotman #polkadot man #fanart #fanfic #kind of

[sailorsero]

nothin’ else like this - nsfw

author: claire (@sailorsero​) ship: solo adult bakugou katsuki, dash of adult bakugou x gender neutral reader, side adult kaminari denki x adult shinsou hitoshi prompt/genre: birthday & food kink themed solo play wordcount: 2887 warnings: explicit sexual content, swearing, kink, food fetish/food kink/sploshing a/n: • written for the Bakugou’s Birthday Bash Collaboration - check out the masterlist to see everyone elses!) • shoutout to @foolishfortuna who is writing an amazing food fetish kiribaku that inspired me to write this kink • i do not give permission for this (or any of my writing) to be reposted, by anyone, on this or any other website. please don’t do it! • title from ‘birthday cake’ by rihanna

nothin’ else like this *** pinkyofficial • HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THE BLASTIEST BOY IN THE GALAXY!!! @explosiongoddynamight LOVE YOU!!! 💥🧡🍹🎂😘 CAN’T WAIT TO SEE YOU AND GET TURNT WITH MAH BOYSSS!!! BAKUSQUAD BABY!!! 👬🧍‍♀️👬 GO TELL DYNAMIGHT HAPPT BIRTHDAY Y’ALL!!! #dynamight #pinky #birthdaybitch

its_cellophane: happt birthday @explosiongoddynamight pinkyofficial: @its_cellophane suddenly we’re a squad of 4 #cellowho theredriot: Look at us 🥺 can’t wait to celebrate together, love you guys!!! happy birthday bro @explosiongoddynamight ♥️ chargebolt: But can we get #birthdaybitch trending tho?? 🤔

Bakugou tutted, flicking through the photos Mina had posted to Instagram. One from last years Hero Gala, with Tweedle Dumb, Dumber and Dumbest crowded into his personal space - all smiles, suits and champagne flutes. A post-graduation selfie with the woman herself, where he felt so triumphant at moving onto the next stage of his quest to become #1, that he hadn’t even objected to the filter that gave them huge eyelashes and bear ears. A couple from their most recent meetups, candids from their school days (mostly taken without his knowledge, let alone permission; the only one that he was posing for featured a double middle finger that had set Iida off for a good fifteen minutes), one from a photoshoot his publicist had strong armed him into and his friends had christened ‘The Great Bakugou Thirst Trap of 2020’.

Bakugou did not consider himself a sentimental person, or someone who placed a great deal of importance on his own birthday; he hadn’t even made any fuss when you told him you were needed in Osaka for a mission that would take you away two days before he turned 24.

But he couldn’t help but go back to the first photo of the bunch, allowing himself a soft smile he would deny under oath.

His 17th birthday, his first birthday with - ugh - real friends. He remembered rolling his eyes when Racoon Eyes had given her blindingly pink phone to the waitress, yelling at Sparky and Tape Face when they’d shoved themselves into the same side of the booth as the rest of them, growling when Shitty Hair had told him to ‘say ‘cheese’, Bakubro!’.

They all looked so young, pre-undercuts and piercings and late teenage growth spurts. He’d have to remember the (very secret) happiness that night had brought him next time Kirishima annoyed him by stepping mud into his carpet or Kaminari pissed him off by opening his big fat mouth.

Bakugou was drawn from his thoughts by knocking on his office door. Knocking that started out strong for the first hit, dropping noticeably into something more tentative for the rest; probably once they remembered whose door they were knocking on. Kirishima had once told him that the interns drew straws on who had to ‘rattle the beast’s cage’ (interact with Bakugou). He’d know; that idiot had been rattling Bakugou’s cage 25/8 since their first year at Yuuei.

“Come in!”

The door opened far enough for an assistant who had already been by this morning with a sack of birthday cards mixed in with regular fan mail to poke their head through the gap.

“Mr Dynamight, Sir, there’s another delivery for you.”

Bakugou nodded, leaning back in his leather desk chair and stretching out his back. Damn paperwork day, and on his birthday. Fuck, was 24 the age your back started aching from sitting in a goddamn chair?!

The assistant continued as they approached the desk, despite the fact that Bakugou didn’t fucking ask.

“It’s a cake, from a lovely bakery downtown; a delivery person just dropped it off. Their cakes are exquisite, by all accounts.”

They stepped back from the desk once the baby blue box was securely placed down, a white satin ribbon wound expertly around it. An embossed logo Bakugou recognised shone under the overhead light.

The blonde’s quirk made short work of the ribbon, burning it idly with one hand so the rest could be severed with ease.

Bakugou flipped the lid of the box up, letting it fall fully open so he could inspect the contents. He blinked. He blinked again.

It was a cake. A strawberry shortcake, slathered with cream and fresh fruit, and perfectly placed in the centre was a chocolate disc with immaculately piped words.

♡ HAPPY BIRTHDAY DYNAMIGHT ♡

“It’s from your fanclub!”

He let his eyes drift back up to the assistant, who - from what Bakugou could infer from the overly positive, cheery tone he was using - clearly thought Bakugou was seconds away from blasting the expensive gateau across his office, and was trying to avert having to call the janitorial staff back up to this floor. He understood; unbridled, perhaps not-always-reasonable rage was kind of his brand, and the cleaners had already had to make a return journey today after Kaminari had set off several sprinklers making toast.

A cake. Yes, a cake. From his fanclub. A cake from his fanclub. That he was definitely going to eat and nothing else, nothing weird! A cake for him to eat. At home. In private. As soon as possible.

“That’s-” He cleared his throat and tried again. “That’s...great. It looks delicious...yes. Thanks. That’s all. You can...go.”

The assistant looked like they were struggling to process the combination of words that had just left Bakugou, but he was pleased when they decided to take this struggle on the road and left his office with a rushed “Yes, Mr Dynamight, Sir, thank you, you are welcome, good bye!” and the click of the office door.

Bakugou barely had time to drag his fingers through his hair, letting out a breath he had apparently been holding since he’d spoken, before the door opened again.

“Knock knock!” “You know he says it doesn’t count if you say it instead of doing it, especially if you’ve already open- Denki!”

Bakugou groaned as Kaminari shot across the room, peering into the still-open box on the desk. “Ooh, that looks amazing, bro! Can I have some?”

“Hey, Kats! Happy birthday, man!” Kirishima beamed at him before dropping his gaze to the cake Kaminari was currently eyefucking. Bakugou slid the box an inch or two closer to himself. He steadfastly ignored the other blonde’s question.

“Thanks, Ei. What’s Dunce Face doing here - world’s worst birthday present?”

Kirishima snorted, clapping Kaminari on the shoulder. “Ran into him a few blocks away on our patrols; figured we’d catch you now to say ‘happy birthday’ on the actual day instead of waiting for Saturday!”

Kaminari brought out what he probably considered the big guns; his finger guns, that he did for literally everything. “Happy birthday, Blasty! Speaking of your birthday, where did the cake come from? Sent with luuurve from Osaka? Although, that would be weird because you don’t even really like sweets and this won’t keep until Saturday when we get togeth-“

“It’s from my fanclub, Pikachu, and keep your staticky hands off my cake!” Bakugou flipped the lid back down, shielding the cake from view.

“Man, don’t be like that - there’s no way you’re gonna be able to eat all that by yourself!” Kaminari whined.

“Relax, Denks - you know Y/N has a cake ordered for Bakubro’s Belated Birthday Blowout!” Kirishima patted his back consolingly.

“I really wish you’d all stop calling it that. God, letting you guys have their number was a fucking mistake.”

Kaminari looked thoughtful; it was terrifying. “You know, I heard, one time, a hero got given a homemade cake by a fan, and when they took a bite of it, they realised they had a mouth full of the fan’s pubic hair!”

“Dude!” “What the everloving fuck, Dunce Face?!”

Kaminari just beamed, apparently proud of himself for making Bakugou question his life on the anniversary of his birth.

“Firstly, does this cake look fucking homemade to you? Secondly, where the fuck did you read that? ‘Disgusting Stories for Stupid Fucking Idiots Monthly’?”

Kaminari shrugged, nonplussed. “Sero told me.”

“Yes, then. Same thing, pretty much.”

Kirishima interrupted, looking thoughtful. “If you think Bakubro’s cake is full of pubes, why do you want to eat it?”

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve had a mouthful of pubes, bro! ‘Toshi’s more of an au naturel kind of guy…”

Bakugou saw Kirishima’s (painful looking) thinking face intensify, and intervened immediately. “Ei, do not pull at this thread. He-“ Bakugou punctuated with a harsh jab towards the electric hero. “- has told us several times that he’s had Mindfucker’s dirty feet in his mouth before, not to mention all the bodily fluids, and then there’s all the disgusting public places they’ve fucked, and-“

“Don’t kinkshame me, bruh!” Kaminari cut in, sounding lowkey offended, but Bakugou noted the look of pride from before hadn’t diminished, even a little bit.

Bakugou snorted. He constantly shamed Kaminari and his walking corpse of a boyfriend, but that was because they were shamelessly disgusting oversharing nymphomaniacs and someone had to do it. Preferably before one of them creamed their pants in a karaoke bar again. That was Shinkami shaming, not kinkshaming.

He definitely had no room to kinkshame people; not with the plans he had for this cake.

***

Bakugou slammed the door to his apartment shut with his hip and laid the bakery box down on the side table so he could make quick work of his boots and jacket.

God, that had to have been the longest taxi ride of his life. He couldn’t risk the subway with such a precious cargo, so he’d had to sit in the back of the cab next to the box (that he’d had to resist the urge to belt in) and sweat in silence.

Bakugou didn’t know where this kink had come from - maybe he’d watched too much Food Network in his formative years, or passing by the bakery with the amazing smell opposite his junior high school twice a day for three years before going home to jerk it had warped his sexuality; all he knew was, he was gonna fuck this cake.

It was a shame that you were miles and miles away and unavailable for a Facetime like no other; introducing you to his kink had been one of the best weekends of his life, and he was pretty sure - if he knows you as well as he thinks he does - you’d placed an order for two birthday cakes for his belated celebrations.

Maybe you’d got other stuff in mind, too - pie, custard, ice cream, syrups, chocolate, sushi, spaghetti, fruit…and now he was half-hard, still fully dressed and standing in the hallway.

Well, you weren’t here now, but it was his birthday, dammit! He would just have to play alone, and send you some photos afterwards.

Bakugou seized the box and made quick strides until he could place it down on his bedside table.

The comforter flew off of the bed, pooling into a lavish lump on the floor right before the pillows landed one by one on top. The undersheet was last, leaving the rubber sheet beneath exposed to one of the only two people who knew it was there in the first place.

The box made its final move to the middle of the protected mattress, where Bakugou tilted it just enough to be able to coax the cake free with help from gravity and without getting it all over his hands. Not yet…

Bakugou made short work of his clothes, kicking his pants and briefs off impatiently a second before climbing onto the bed and kneeling beside his prize.

Normally, he’d take his time, play around more, have more of a plan, but today, the anticipation had him on a knife edge already. It had been nearly four hours since he’d unwrapped this gift, and he was dying to play with it.

Bakugou leant his knees spread apart, sinking into a squat so he was as close as he could get to his treat.

He was fully hard now, and gave his cock a couple of quick pumps, letting his fist settle loosely from the base down as he took a deep breath and brought his leaking tip to the side of the cake.

His breath left him in a quick rush when the first contact was made; the cream was on the cooler side, and the smooth finish of the outside of the cake was everything he had been missing since he’d last indulged himself like this.

It took all the self control Bakugou had to only push the head in, then pause and take a breath, focusing intently on every sensation as he pushed in as slowly as was physically possible.

The afternoon of waiting felt like edging, so the sensation against his cock, inch by inch, was almost too much as it was not enough.

The sponge was almost as soft and velvety as the cream, but providing some texture and resistance that felt as delicious as the dessert looked.

Bakugou let out the first of many moans as he bottomed out, the air in the bedroom already beginning to smell like sugar and strawberries - just the right side of cloying, and he knew before long it would be so heady he’d be dizzy from it.

He pulled out almost as slowly as he went in, raising himself back up a little and bracing himself with his hands on the other side of the intact cake, leaving him looking over it on his hands and knees.

His reentry at a slightly higher point of the cake wasn’t quite as slow as the first breach, but he’s never been known for his patience.

Bakugou pulled in and out a couple of times, leaving a clear hole to fuck as he began to do just that, his hips begnining to thrust in a steady rhythm.

It didn’t take long for the squishy sounds coming from between his legs to turn into sloppy ones; the delicate cake was beginning to buckle already, the defined layers enveloping his cock becoming mushy around him.

Balancing his weight on one arm, he swiped his now-free hand across the top of the cake, coming away with as generous a handful of cream and strawberry slices as he could without threatening the structural integrity of the cake prematurely.

Bakugou raised his hand and smacked it right into the middle of his chest, before smearing it across his right pec, rubbing purposefully over his nipple as he did so. His hips sped up slightly without intention - or him noticing - as he alternated between smearing the food deeper into his flushed skin, and tugging on his nipple.

He could hear whimpering in his ears and it took a beat or two for Bakugou to realise they were coming from him. Fuck, it all just felt so good.

He blindly grabbed another small handful, this time coming away with some cake mixed into his spoils, before repeating the treatment on his left pec, but with a roughness borne of his increasing desperation.

“Fuck, fuck, shit, I-“ He hissed out a breath, pinching his nipple firmly as he felt the cake begin to collapse inwards, the squelch of the fucking he was giving it echoing in his ears.

A final scoop of the dessert onto his fingers went straight into his mouth, his plush, pink lips parting to accommodate three fingers; he was close.

Bakugou’s balance was starting to go as his orgasm approached, so he pulled his fingers free from his tongue and resumed his position, but beginning to sink lower into the mess he was fucking into his mattress protectors. From his angle, his balls began to slap what was left of the sides of the sinking cake, and the noise that created tore another moan from the blonde.

He could feel the sticky mess coating his crotch and inner thighs, closing his eyes as he lost himself in the feeling of indulging in the kink that turned him on like nothing else, wanting to savour something he knew was nearly over.

“Oh my fuck- ing, shit, oh, fuck-“

Bakugou’s hips were moving at a frantic pace now, chasing a release inside the cake while it still had an inside.

His orgasm had been teetering for a couple of minutes, then came all at once. A shout turned into a long, drawn out moan that was almost a cry, as he spilled his release in one, two, three bursts; biting his lip so hard, he’d discover later he’d drawn blood.

His arms gave out before he’d come back to himself, his lower half landing into the gooey puddle of expensive baking with a splat that would almost have been enough to get him half hard again if his soul hadn’t just shot out of his dick into a cake.

The blonde let out a deep, satisfied sigh, smiling dopily into the shiny, specialist bedsheet. Happy birthday to me, indeed.

Bakugou had only just had the energy to raise himself back onto his hands and knees when he had to find a little more to turn his head towards the door at the sound of it creaking open.

“Awh, did someone get you a birthday cake, babe?”

He nodded. You were back early.

You dropped your duffel on the floor, taking your first step towards the bed as you slid your shirt off with ease.

“Ooh, good - you saved some for me! I’m starving…”

#happy birthday bakugou!!! #my writing #bakugou katsuki #bakugou x reader #bakugou #katsuki #bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugo katsuki #bakugo katsuki x reader #bakugou katsuki x reader

[atomiclightcycle]

C!Wilbur lovepost

Decided to write up some thoughts from discord because C!Wilbur is a really good character in my opinions for a bunch of reasons and i love him very much.

C!Wilbur's mental illness hits so hard personally because of the way I go through it, and the way people react to it. Just the endless thoughts that never ever stop and every doubt you have. It feels like you are losing everything and nothing will ever be okay again, and you want to die so bad because there’s nothing left for you but also you have to grapple with how much you have to hurt everyone because you love them so much and you don't deserve them so you know you’re going to hurt them which just makes you feel shitter.

 The paranoid thoughts that never end and you kinda know it’s not true so you feel like you’re going crazy but it feels so real and its terrifying and its worst when people confirm that because you weren’t wrong and it’s going to happen again and there nothing you can do to stop it but also people on the outside don’t see and don’t believe you so it’s so incredibly isolating. Also the shame in it all like you should be stronger than his you and that you are better than this. Also the way people treat you as well like its different and you can tell like either they don’t get it and they’re really harsh and it gets in your head and reinforces that they hate you or they are nicer which makes you feel even more pathetic and worthless, or they are scared of you not because you would ever hurt them like intentionally but because it’s scary seeing someone you love so sick and nobody wants to be the person to push them over the edge and they don’t know what to say.- this is why it’s so harmful to assume that has an abuser because tommy is scared of him despite him never having abused him. Like at points I was so scared I had abused my little sister and didn't know despite that not making any sense and nobody having said that, turns out she was nervous around me and avoiding me for the reasons above.

 Also, the way you lash out and say things you regret because you’re so fucking scared, and it feels like everyone wants to hurt you. Then if you start getting better it’s like you ruined everything yourself and there's nothing left for you and it’s all your own fault.

 Like c!Wilbur is such a good and accurate portrayal of all this and the way people demonize him for it is kinda shitty (am I not saying that he should be excused for his actions however his illness is not a bad action but a condition he can not help but have), but on a more positive note its such good writing on the part of cc!Wilbur.

I’m also very fond of c!Wilbur’s positive traits that are so often ignored. C!Wilbur cares so much and so deeply about others and it’s so frustrating that people erase that because of manipulation,  even the worst stuff he has done was to help others like the destruction of l'manberg was because he convinced himself that the thing he had put so much effort in could only hurt people anymore because of him, and him manipulating tommy now was because he cares for him and after everyone else has left he feels he need him to stay like he cares so much.

Another thing I find is often ignored is c!Wilbur’s trauma. He was in the control room with his actual son and two other teenagers who were all there in part of him and he also trusted eret so much, borderline romantically- that was where his paranoia started or at least got worse, after the control room he was willing to lose it all and give up. Then presidency wasn't great either because he was suddenly responsible for everyone else and putting so much effort in and crying himself to sleep every night, but it didnt seem like anyone cared or listened to him. So, he hosted an election which was basically asking does anyone like me, and has his son and close friend run against him and lost so that feel like that question was answered with a no, then as he is running for his life he dies in front of everyone while tommy the only person he can trust for sure now is in danger and that’s all before pogtopia.

The day people stop acting like Wilbur never cared about l'manberg is the day I die happy as it so clear he did, his plot line wouldn’t really make sense if he didn’t.

Wilbur soot is the onliest character ever, he has got a cool aesthetic, he’s good representation of mental health and what it’s like to live with that, he’s got a dynamic relationship with morality, he’s not a perfect dad but he’s a good dad, he’s wrong a lot but you can see his perspective, he’s got a cool design, he has an interesting way of having his pov shown, the things he does makes sense, he’s try to get better despite how hard that is, he care about other, good sense in fashion, he’s fun, he’s engaging, and he’s fun to think.

I often feel like c!Wilbur has just been mistaken for jd at times especially now with the putting cigarettes out on tommy angst, like nothing against jd but that's not c!wilbur. L'manberg was not destroyed to send a message it was destroyed because he thought it was hurting people. He doesn't treat tommy like JD treats veronica, besides the obvious, he is not abusive towards tommy and his possessiveness is out of fear instead of a naturally controlling nature.

Another way I dislike the fandoms portrayal is with the red eyes trend as it weirdly ableist and dehumanizing. Also, on a personal note Wilbur’s character has black eyes and i have pretty much black eyes and want to see more characters with them lmao. A cool suggestion I have seen for the red eyes are some red heart glasses which I personally like because I own some and holy shit they are so cool and gender. After everything he deserves this, and we should let him heal in style. Another headcanon I like is when wilbur goes through redemption, tommy gifts him a blue beanie made out of friends wool which I really like as it makes them matching with tommy and the cardigan people uses.  Both of these headcanons come from l’manbur apparently but I heard them from @the-redeemed-anon​   who is a member but i'm not sure if she personally came up with them.

Personally i feel as tommy has been clairifed, i think wilbur should be hippified. So below for i think crimeboys should be fanonized /j

^^^wilbur

^^tommy 

also btw i've decided 💛 is my emoji for crime boys because tommy is golden boy and wilbur is yellow, blue is also very nice because blue= l'manberg and friend but I like yellow

Anyway in conclusion

#dream smp #wilbur soot #c!wilbur #c!wilbur pos #tw mental health venting #tw victim blaming #long post #death mention #discussions of trauma #atomicpost

[syndianites]

A Queen Serves and Protects

Chapter One

Current --> Next Chapter!

Summary: Post-Style Queen, Pre-Queen Wasp.

Chloe finds the Bee Miraculous, but instead of finding an obliging, subservient Kwami, she finds the Kwami of Order and Subjugation, and Pollen is not about to let herself be used like Nooroo was.

Granted, the only danger in a teenage girl is the damage she poses to herself. Can Pollen shape Chloe into a hero? Or will she stubbornly refuse to change and remain the bitter, harsh person the city has long since known?

[My take on how Chloe's character could have developed]

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

The tap tap tap of nails on a desk was all Chloe could think about as she blankly stared at the board in front of her. This all was tiring. Notes were tiring. School was tiring. English was tiring. How could someone be expected to sit still and pay attention to something so boring for hours on end?

Movement in her purse reminded her that it was what good students do. Sit and pay attention. Do their own work. Put in their own effort.

Chloe grit her teeth.

Well it was too hard! Being a better person shouldn’t mean taking notes and being studious in class! It should mean saving people from getting hit by a car, or stopping people from kicking puppies, or having people look to her for inspiration! Not this boring shit.

Surreptitiously, she took a deep breath.

It was all going to be worth it, she reminded herself. If she had to sit still and be a good student and do all her work herself, it would be nothing compared to being a superheroine.

But as she grew more restless, her mind wandered towards what got her into this situation in the first place....

///////

One might have called it a stroke of luck to find a magical item on the sidewalk. Of course, after a day as shitty as that, anything positive would be considered lucky.  Such was not the case for Chloe.

She didn’t know what it was at first and had almost passed it by when she second guessed herself. It looked old, but well cared for. Most of all, the box looked priceless and a quick peek into the box showed a luxurious comb.

Her mom had walked away with a dismissive ‘Come along, Cassandra,’ which had her shutting the box and hurrying to not be left behind.

A limo ride later and she found herself back in her room, ignored by her mother and forgotten by her father as he fussed over Audrey. Typical. But sure, her mom furiously turns her dearest Adrien into a gold statue, then does the same to Chloe when she tries to help him!

Chloe pursed her lips. It’s not like Audrey would have remembered how close she was to Adrien after being away for so long. If she had, surely she would have spared poor Adrikins? Her hands tightened into fists.

Except, she was still holding something. 

The box with the comb. It had slipped her mind as she’d arrived home. Barely made a dent against the sickening feeling that curled up in her stomach as her mother hemmed and hawed, not sparing even a glance at her daughter she’d betrayed.

Which was fine. She’d been akumatized. Surely the stress and aftermath of being taken into Hawkmoth’s fold would cause her to forget about her beloved daughter. Later, when Audrey had properly taken her wrath out onto the proper people, she would come up and fuss over Chloe and ensure she was alright.

Or she’d send her daddy to do it. 

Returning her attention back to the box, she lifted the lid once more. It was a lovely shade of golden yellow, with black detailing. Upon closer look, taking in the fine detail of what seemed to be insect wings, Chloe realized that she was looking at a beautifully crafted bee comb.

She ran a delicate finger on the edge of the comb only to be met with blinding light. Cringing away, she brought her hand up to shield her eyes. When the light dissipated, she glanced up.

The box and comb clattered to the floor.

A bee was floating in front of her.

A bee with a big head, and big eyes, and arms, and a big stinger, and Oh. My. God.

She screamed.

///////

Eyes flicked towards the window to catch the dying rays of dusk. A trembling hand brought a delicate porcelain mug up to a man’s face. He finished off the now lukewarm tea and let it sit for a moment. 

Peering into the remains, he observed the major remnants of the tea leaves. Lazy, wavy lines dominated the cup, with a scattering of imperfect triangles. Finally, a grouping of mountains to one side.

Master Fu hummed in thought.

“What do you think of the fate of the Bee, Master?” Wayzz spoke up from where he sipped his own drink. 

Turning back to the nearly navy darkness of the sky, Fu replied, “We will have to see, my friend. Only time will tell us now.”

///////

“Please calm down My Queen. Surely Ladybug informed you of what you needed to know?” Pollen reassured quickly. Except, the small being felt something was off. She was floating safely in an apartment with a girl she’d never seen before, no akuma in sight or mind. Her Chosen was clearly surprised to see her.

And there was no Ladybug in sight.

Still, she kept a smile on her face.

“What are you! What do you mean Ladybug told me what I need to know? Wait,” Chloe broke off with a gasp, “Are you how Ladybug gets her powers?”

Ah, a red flag. 

Pollen was plenty aware that Ladybug had chosen her to assist in an akuma fight. If she had not been delivered by Ladybug then something must be amiss. For now, she would watch her words carefully.

“No, My Queen. But I am an ally of Ladybug,” Pollen continued. “I am here to help grant another the power to assist Ladybug and Chat Noir in their quest to defeat akumas and stop Hawkmoth.”

The girl’s eyes lit up. “Does this mean I get to be a superheroine? I knew it! I knew Ladybug would see she needed my help!”

Pollen stopped her there, “On the contrary, My Queen. With Ladybug absent it is my duty to uphold order and ensure you are a good fit to be bestowed my power. Since there is no immediate threat, I see fit to judge your character as you go about your day.”

“What!” The girl griped at her, “Clearly Ladybug knew what she was doing. If you can make me become a superhero I demand you do it!.”

There was a harsh pull in her gut and Pollen fought to bite her words back. She knew she had to obey her holder, but she also knew enough to pull through some loopholes. Poor Nooroo has been stuck in a terrible enslavement for far too long for the rest of the kwami to not prepare for such an occasion.

“You must be a good person to be a superhero, first.” The pull in her gut lessened, but remained. “If you can prove to me you are worthy of holding my power, I will make you a superhero.”

Pollen received a scoff in reply. “I am a good person! Just ask anyone at all. My daddykins always tells me I’m doing good, so why wouldn’t I be?”

The pull began to intensify again. Worry started to drum through her. If Pollen couldn’t convince this person to let her check her history first, she wouldn’t have time to find and return to Ladybug- or, at least, inform Ladybug who possessed her Miraculous.

A low, angry buzz started in her chest. A Queen never let her hive be hurt by her own actions. If she did not stop this girl now, she could harm the rest of her kind, as well as Ladybug and Chat Noir.

And, well, who was she to let that happen.

She faked a sigh, “Yes, of course My Queen. Now listen closely.” Pollen risked floating closer to the girl, who leaned in in response. For a moment, she felt bad. The girl seemed earnest enough, if conceited and arrogant. A good Queen would have these traits in modesty, just enough to benefit and little enough to avoid harm. Then the pull in her gut worsened and she chose to make her move. 

With a sweet smile, Pollen leaned forward slowly. Then she turned in a swift movement and struck the poor girl in the junction between her left arm and shoulder. The girl let out a choked screech before her body came to a full stop, paralyzed. 

Floating back so that she could be seen in full view, Pollen gave a more genuine smile. “That, my Queen, is one of my powers. Immobilization. Now,” she paused, watching the girl’s eye twitch for a split second. “You will listen to me. My first loyalty is to Ladybug. If you are not fit to be her ally, I will not allow you to use my Miraculous. From what I can tell, you stumbled upon my Miraculous by chance.”

A quiet part of her whispered that Master Fu could have had a hand in this, but she dismissed it.

“Ladybug chose me to help her with the latest akuma, and they are gone. However, I am willing to give you a chance. While I serve both my Master and Ladybug, I am my own being. If you can prove you are good enough to help Ladybug and Chat Noir, I will grant you my power to help them. If not, I will reclaim my Miraculous and return to Ladybug, telling her that you are not fit to wield any such Miraculous.”

Pollen clasped her hands behind her back and puffed up her chest, portraying an image of regality in such a small body. “So I will offer you a deal. You will not ask me to make you into a hero. You will not order me to do anything. Most importantly, you will not reveal me or my Miraculous to anyone other than Ladybug or Chat Noir, or my Master. In return, I will spend time with you to decide whether you are fit to be my holder- and if you are, I will see to it that you are trained and informed as much as I can do for you before you go into the fight with Ladybug and Chat Noir. If at any point you break this deal I will immediately take my Miraculous back and you will never be allowed to see it again.”

She lowered her eyes to look down upon the still frozen girl. “Do you accept the terms of the deal?”

The girl, for her part, didn’t move. Rather, her anger and impetulant thoughts swirled in her head. While Pollen was no Kwami of Emotion or Mind, she could feel her inner chaos. As the girl realized that she would not be set free unless she made the deal, her fire wore down.

Pollen broke out into a smile. She floated forward, ready to let her free of her grasp. This was a risk. If she didn’t accept the deal, this girl could turn the tides on her in an instant. If the girl realized she could command her to do whatever she wanted, it would be over. Just under her display of confidence, fear swam in her stomach.

But she was nothing if not determined. With a tap to the young lady’s face, she was unfrozen.

For a moment, the girl fumbled over her words,” I- you- how did you- how dare you!”

When Pollen pointedly swept down to pick up her Miraculous and floated back, the girl stopped.

In her head, her mind ran on the idea of being a hero. Being beside Ladybug. Being loved by all of Paris. Being good enough for her Mother to remember her name. This was her chance! Her chance to change everything! To prove herself! If she just said yes and passed the stupid little test, she would get to be a hero.

Besides, she could bend and break the deal if she needed to.

Brushing down her capris, the girl stood up straight. With all the dignity she learned from being the child of the mayor, she calmly spoke, “I accept your deal.”

Pollen fought down a crushing smile. Instead, she reached a paw forward to shake on it. The girl, to her credit, only eyed her a moment before giving a finger to shake.

“Excellent. My name is Pollen. For the next twenty-four hours I will be watching you go about your life as normal to determine if you are deserving of my power.”

“Well, Pollen, I am Chloe Bourgeois, Ladybug’s closest ally, I can assure you that you will find nothing but good things about me!”

////////

Above the Dupain-Cheng Bakery, a sleep-deprived girl sat up hastily working through homework as the night ticked on. Perhaps from the late hour, or her finally caving under all the stress of her life, she felt like laughing. Giggles escaped her to the alarm of a sleepy Tikki beside her.

“Marianette, are you okay?” The kwami asked in concern.

“Yeah,” Marianette stifled a laugh. “I just suddenly had the thought that something super funny happened.”

Tikki shook her head disapprovingly. “You need to sleep. Staying up this late is not good for you.”

“Yeah, you’re right,” she sighed, “It has been way too long a day after losing the Bee miraculous.”

Tikki patted her shoulder in sympathy as Marianette got up and began her bed routine.

A long day indeed.

#miraculous ladybug #miraculous tales of ladybug and chat noir #chloe bourgeois #pollen (ladybug) #ml fanfic #ml

[n3onguts]

stupid fucking kei. | tobio kageyama

summary — you do things out of spite and try hard to move on. there’s a casualty, and his name is tobio kageyama.

pairing — tobio kageyama x f!reader (ft. kei tsukishima)

genre&tags — third year au, unrequited love, angst, revenge make-out sesh, kags is a lovesick fool, lots of time jumps

warning(s) — swearing, underage alcohol consumption, explicit scenes!!! (rated m for mature content!!!), hormonal teenagers partying and being generally stupid as they are

w.c. — approx. 3k+

a/n — i binged haikyuu and was super inspired by tsukishima and kageyama and their dynamic so here is the long-ass fic that i gave birth to as a result. i might write a part two with tsukki (only if people are interested tho) so get ready for that maybe??? for the requests in my queue i SWEAR TO GOD that i will get to those i’m so sorry for being a shitty writer/person and being so inconsistent i want to be better for y’all it’s just hard to stay motivated i hope u understand  

Fucking Kei, you think to yourself, stupid fucking Kei.

Stupid fucking Kei for making you drink the way he has.

You lock eyes with the tall blonde from across the room and try to read his expression — still as blank as ever. He has a 2nd Year hanging off him that you recognize from the cheerleading team, but he’s only paying half-attention to her as she whispers something into his ear. You down the first of three shots that Yamaguchi set up for you on the kitchen counter, never breaking eye contact with Karasuno’s infamous middle blocker.

Stupid fucking Kei for never caring enough to show an ounce of emotion. Stupid fucking Kei.

Jump back to January, the night before Karasuno’s volleyball team leaves for Nationals.

“I can’t do this anymore.” You choke out. “You make everything so unnecessarily difficult.”

“I’m supposed to be your girlfriend. But you make me feel like a goddamned stranger.” There’s a heavy feeling in your throat that you try to swallow down. Tears start to cloud your vision but you blink them back, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing you in pain. “You and me? Us? This?” You point your finger at him then at yourself. “It’s so tiring. Too much work with barely any benefit.”

His stare is unnerving and you feel your heart begin to race. The wooden floor is cold under your bare feet and you wait for him to say something, anything, just to break the silence, but he doesn’t.

Finally, after what seems like an eternity, “Fine.”

And somehow, this breaks you even more.

You were ready for animosity, for his trademark harshness, for a sudden barrage of insults. You were not ready for ‘fine’. 

You wanted to spark a fight, an argument, just needing to see some semblance that he still cared, that he still loved you, anything — but this.

Instead, you got ‘fine’.

And that was it.

Stupid fucking Kei, you grumble.

The tequila works quickly to do its job. A warm buzz takes over your body as your thoughts begin to match the bitter taste in your mouth. 

You would never admit it, but you were a lightweight, unable to handle your booze properly, whereas Kei, despite his slender frame and aversion to liquor, was the opposite. When you two were still together, it was a secret delight of his, seeing you inebriated, under the influence, lacking your usual control and composure, because there would be no escaping the day-after ritual of him endlessly teasing you about your plastered antics. You would hate drinking more if it weren’t for the fact that it had a softening effect on Kei. He’d suddenly become less aloof, less callous, a little more mellow and a lot more tender; he’d take it upon himself to take care of you whenever you drank past your limits (which never took long) and always made sure you’d wake up safe at home, tucked in bed with a Tylenol and a glass of water on your nightstand.

But you didn’t have him anymore. 

You take another shot while he watches, the cheerleader still attached to his side, and wipe your mouth on your sleeve. 

It was your protest of sorts, being reckless just because you could, not caring about the outcome of your actions, almost like a message to him that said, ‘Look. I can hurt myself just as much as you can.’

Jump back two weeks ago. You’re studying alone in the library for exams during lunch break when a hand slams down on your desk, interrupting your flow of thinking. “What the fuck have you been doing with Kageyama?”

You recognize the voice immediately, hushed but still as accusatory. Looking up, you see Kei, signature glare and all. The force of his act causes some of your papers to fall to the floor. “Why the fuck do you care?” You shoot back.

He scowls, crossing his arms, “I saw you walk home with him yesterday.”

You raise your eyebrows at him, tapping your pencil impatiently on the tabletop. “And?”

“And why the fuck were you with him?” Sneering, he continues, “Some sort of rebound, I assume?”

“You’re acting like a child.” You scoff, waving him off and reaching down to pick up your fallen belongings.

His foot abruptly stops you before you’re able to retrieve any of your papers. Annoyed, you get up from your seat and furiously push his glasses up his nose, successfully agitating him. “Look,” You begin. “I don’t come harassing you about your long string of 2nd Year conquests, so don’t fucking come to me, acting like you own me and demanding to know why I’m hanging out with a guy who I’ve been friends with for three years.“

You match his gaze, refusing to back down, to lose to him in any way, but all of a sudden, the bell rings, signaling the end of lunch and interrupting your stare-off. Hastily, you grab your stuff from the floor and haphazardly cram everything into your bag.

“Asshole.” You spit out right as you walk past him, leaving the boy you once hopelessly loved standing all by himself. 

You down your last shot at the thought of the memory. Fucking Kei, you snarl, fuck you, Kei, I do whatever the fuck I want.

Wincing at the aftertaste, you grab a nearby beer and chug, in an attempt to wash away the burning in your mouth.

The world seems to blur as you finish the last drop from the bottle. Holding on to the cool, wooden counter, you try to balance yourself. Everything’s a bit fuzzy as you walk over to the boy who’s been eyeing you this whole night, euphoric from the pseudo-confidence that the booze has given you.

The room is dim and crowded, but you can spot him easily. Head high, you slowly saunter over to the tall figure, a smirk forming on your lips with every step closer.

“Tobio.” 

Red cup in hand, Kageyama is sat alone on one of the plush sofas in Yamaguchi’s living room. You take a seat to his left, aware of Kei’s eyes ogling you from all the way on the other side of the room.

Watch me now, you stupid fucking bitch, you think slyly.

You place a hand on Kageyama’s thigh and look up at him. He gulps at the sight of your hand so close to his dick, mouthing, ‘You okay?’, over the bumping music. 

You giggle, knowing exactly what you’re doing to him, and whisper, “A little tipsy, but that just makes life more fun, doesn’t it?” Grabbing his drink, you finish the last of it and casually toss the empty plastic cup aside once you’re done.

He snorts and you can see his eyes linger on your chest, accentuated by the top Kei always hated, as it left too little to the imagination. “Lightweight.”

You feign a hurt face — “Mean.” — and lean into him as you laugh. He tenses up at first, taken aback by your boldness, then relaxes. You rest your head on his shoulder, and he takes this as a cue to wrap his left arm around you.

You and the acclaimed setter became friends towards the middle of your first year at Karasuno. Neither of you were originally aware of the other’s existence until you met him waiting after volleyball practice for Kei and Yamaguchi. 

The two of you weren’t close initially, mostly just exchanging pleasantries whenever you happened to bump into each other, but that was until you were put in the same class during your second year. Kageyama on the court and Kageyama in school were almost like two separate entities. He was entrancing to watch when he played, perhaps less noticeable in the company of showy players like Hinata, but when paid more attention to, it was clear the care he put into each move. He was the opposite when it came to his education, so you had volunteered to help him study (despite Kei’s many snide side comments). Every so often, he’d come by to your house for a tutoring session, and little by little, he began to open up. He was a quick learner and a generally nice guy, but once you got him talking about volleyball, he couldn’t stop. 

It was interesting to see him light up the way he did when asked about volleyball, being so passionate about the sport. Kei never spoke about it the way Kageyama did, and, at first glance, you assumed the two shared similar attitudes, but as you grew to know the raven-haired boy, you found he was a lot less snarky than Kei. With the exception of volleyball, you realized, he was kind of dorky, but it was cute, you thought, and since your first year, he had grown a lot. Leaner and taller, but with a clear build made of muscle. His hair, like always, lay flat on his head, but had grown longer and shaggier since he never made the effort to go to a barber, deeming it a waste of his time. 

Eventually, you stopped walking home with Kei and Yamaguchi and began walking home with him instead. It just made sense, you reasoned to yourself at the time, given the close proximity of your two houses. Kei showed some signs of annoyance at the sudden switch, but never outrightly expressed a disdain for your friendship with his teammate.

And, as time passed, you and Kageyama settled into a comfortable routine together — walking, having lunch, studying. Everything always felt so easy with him, the laughter, the back-and-forth banter, and it made you feel giddy when Hinata pointed out how he only turned soft for you. 

Until finally, on a random Sunday afternoon, he dropped by your home, unannounced, cupcake in hand, stuttering that, yes, perhaps, maybe, weirdly enough, he liked you.

He had rendered you speechless, yet despite your equal attraction to him, you felt as though, at that point in your life, you weren’t ready for a relationship — so nothing happened. He’d wait for you, he said, however long it took, but you didn’t want that pressure and didn’t want to lead him on either, so you told him right then and there — “Just friends, okay?”

And, as things go, the awkward tension that came from his confession and your rejection started to take effect. ‘Just friends’, you two had promised to one another, but there was no avoiding the weird air that hung between you and him. There was never any bad blood, never any sour feelings, but things never felt the same after that Sunday when he came by.

By your third year, you barely knew each other anymore, and coupled with your newfound confusing feelings over Kei, Kageyama began drifting from your mind completely. Once you and Kei began dating, you made active attempts to avoid the setter as much as you could and sensed that he was doing the same. Kei eventually caught on to the discomfort you felt around his teammate, and it became a sore subject for you two. You assured him that it was all just history to you now but your boyfriend (at the time) couldn’t help but feel possessive, smugly boasting about how he was able to win you over but Kageyama wasn’t, which sparked an argument between you two about how insensitive he was being. 

Days after the two of you broke up, overwhelmed by heartbreak and submitting to your loneliness, you called the number of a boy you hadn’t spoken to in a year, the only person you felt you could rely on at that moment — Kageyama’s. And just as though nothing had changed, he dropped everything to rush to your house, cupcake in hand, offering a shoulder to cry on.

With Kei, there had always been a playful competition for power between the two of you. It was an interesting dynamic; you two had gotten close because you were the only one who could volley back his insults and condescension, earning you his respect (and, though he won’t admit it, admiration). You and him were terrifyingly similar, Yamaguchi had once pointed out — both hardheaded, both cutthroat, both opinionated, but when it came to him, you realized, he had this unique ability to make you want to be easier, milder, all the opposites of extreme and electric. There was something intoxicating about how hot and cold he could be, and you hated feeling like you were losing yourself to him, but there was no denying it, he had you hooked.

With Kageyama, it was different. You knew, from the beginning, how he loved you. And there was some pride in that. He was still that self-assured, serious athlete, but when it came to you, he was all pretend swagger and lame attempts at being smooth. It was endearing, how hard he tried but how dorky he could be. 

You face him now, this pretty boy who’s loved you since you were 15, and he looks back at you with a lazy, dazed grin. Messy black hair, foggy blue eyes. Shirt straining against his hard, warm stomach. You play with a lock of his hair, thinking about how this is a kid no longer. The night is cold, the music is deafening, and the boy is Kageyama.

“You’re so cute.” You murmur into his ear, lips grazing his skin on purpose so that he shudders from your touch. 

He turns so that your foreheads are touching each other. Playing along, he teases, “Hitting on me, are you? Careful there, I might kiss you.”

Your combined weight now that the two of you are basically attached to each other has the both of you sinking into the couch. You loop your left leg over his lap, eyes challenging his. Smiling coyly, you reply, “So much fake confidence, Tobio. You’d never actually try.”

“Watch it. If I started, I don’t think I’d ever be able to stop.” He retorts.

And before you can say anything back, you feel a pair of supple lips crash onto yours. His right hand is soft as it drags against the skin of your waist, slipping underneath your shirt, while his left holds the nape of your neck gently. He angles his mouth to better mold his tongue with yours, pressing deeper, clearly an expert at the task. You break away for a second to breathe and he moves to your neck, sucking at the sensitive skin until a moan erupts from you.

Despite the mind-numbing dullness that drinking gives you, you feel his touch so clearly. “Fuck—!” You cry out, and he only hums response, the smooth thrum adding to the heat you’re experiencing. From the corner of your eye, you spot Kei, who’s glowering as he watches your little display. It feels like an act of rebellion, of revenge, and the thought leaves you feeling like a victor. Intoxicated from the arousal and alcohol, you shut your eyes as Kageyama leaves his mark at the tender expanse of your collarbone. 

You open your eyes again when he moves back up to your mouth, lips lingering against yours, coming in contact every so often but refusing to close the gap. You whine and he smirks, “That good enough?”

You roll your eyes and murmur, “Shut up.” You adjust yourself so that you’re straddling his lap, his head leaning back as you devour him. There’s nothing gentle about it anymore — it’s sloppy, fierce, hungry when he slips his tongue back in, licking along your bottom lip to ask for entrance then battling for dominance with yours. There’s no stopping the moans that come out of you, and you’re panting now and so is he, and it should bother you how public you two are being, with so many free eyes to watch, including your ex-boyfriends, but it’s a party, you think, fuck it and fuck everyone.

You lower yourself back down to even the playing field and feel a growing tent poke at your butt as you rub against Kageyama. Your hands travel to his hair, gripping them tight like an anchor as he curves himself into you deeper, leaving little space between your bodies. You feel his hands on your waist, your barely-covered ass, everywhere, just exploring, desperately, oh-so-desperately, as if trying to hold onto this moment with you.

His hands find your bra and you think he might unhook it, so you whimper, “Not now. Kei’s looking.”

“I don’t give a fuck.” He gets out in a hoarse voice, sounding angrier at the mention of your ex-boyfriend. His fingers sneak under the cup, squeezing your tits and drawing a needy sound from you. Caressing your nipple, he starts rubbing it in circles with his thumb, and you feel your crotch grow warm. He sputters between kisses, “So soft. Everywhere.”

“Kageyama.” You hiss, as you feel a low craving explode in between your legs. “I could beat the shit out of you right now.”

“I know.” And that almost kills you.

You swat his hand away before he can tear your entire shirt off. “Annoying.” You growl as you bite his bottom lip in retaliation. Grinding yourself harder onto his member, you earn a low groan from the boy. You slink your hand under his shirt, trailing over his smooth, rock-hard chest, and gasp, “Fuck.”

He slides your hair behind your ears and the gentler action catches you by surprise, reminding you that he’s no random boy, this is no random make-out: he is Tobio Kageyama and he has wanted you for two years, loved you, needed you, and the thought of that makes a wetness grow down there.

But before you can do anything else, an outsider’s hand grips onto your shoulder and pulls at you roughly, breaking the heated session between you and Kageyama. You turn to see who’s so rudely interrupting you two and your eyebrows furrow at the sight of Kei, standing tall as he looks down at the two of you, teeth grit and looking pissed as hell.

“What the fuck is your problem?” You snap, earning the attention of nearby partygoers.  

He looks angrier than you’ve ever seen him, but it doesn’t deter you. You’re not my fucking boyfriend, you think defiantly.

As you turn to fully face the blonde, you feel Kageyama tense up underneath you. His hold tightens around your waist, as if refusing to let go.

Kei scowls, “We need to talk.” 

“I’m busy.” You cut in.

“Yeah, everyone can see that.”

“Did you at least enjoy the show?” You smile sweetly up at him, juxtaposing the acidity dripping from your voice.

“Let’s go.” He grabs your arm and pulls you up so roughly it hurts. The force of the motion is so strong it almost gives you whiplash. 

When he hears you yell out in pain, Kei instinctively lets go, but, like a reflex, Kageyama shoots up beside you and pushes the blonde back, causing him to stumble. “Tsukishima, calm the fuck down, you’re hurting her. Are you drunk?”

Kei’s nostrils flare at the sight of his teammate but he keeps his voice steady. “I didn’t mean to do that.”

As you rub your arm, trying to relieve it of the pain, you step in front of Kageyama before he does something stupid. “He’s not drunk, Kageyama.” You glare at your ex-boyfriend. “He’s just an asshole.”

Kei is looking back and forth between you and the dark-haired boy behind you. You can feel that Kageyama is ready to fight, one hand clenching the small of your back, but you don’t want anything to happen that could further disrupt Yamaguchi’s party.

“Just come with me.” Kei bears his brown eyes into yours. A beat. “Please.”

And there it is. That word of his that was your kryptonite. You don’t want to, but you feel yourself slowly but surely pull away from Kageyama. You turn to look at the boy you’ve just made out with. 

His icy stare at Kei turns bleary when he looks back at you. He sighs, “It’s always going to be him, huh? No matter how shitty he treats you.” 

His words don’t intend to hurt, but they do. There was some truth to what he said, if you were being honest.

“No,” You try for a weak smile. Crazy how you just went from almost fucking this boy to basically breaking his heart. “Not at all.”

You lean in, like it’s a secret meant just for you two, head still buzzing from the drunken haze. “I think he just wants some closure. But don’t worry, Tobio, we’re still To-Be-Continued.” 

Now it’s his turn to make a half-hearted attempt at a smile, as if he knows that you’re just spouting bullshit. Loud enough for your ex-boyfriend to hear, he quips, “I think he’s just jealous, is what it is.” 

You hear Kei snort from behind you two but ignore him. Standing on your tippy toes, you give Kageyama a kiss on the cheek. You didn’t realize your hand had been holding his the whole time, and before you let go, he gives you a squeeze, trying to be reassuring, you think, like a ‘good luck’ of sorts. 

But you knew what it really meant.

‘I’ll wait for you.’

#haikyuu #haikyuu!! #kageyama #tobio kageyama #kageyama x reader #kageyama smut #haikyuu smut #haikyuu x you #kageyama x you #tsukishima #tsukishima kei #kei tsukishima x reader #kei tsukishima #tobio kageyama x reader #tsukishima x reader #tsukishima imagine #kageyama imagine #tsukishima smut #hq #tsukishima x you #hq x reader #kei tsukishima x you #kageyama tobio #tobio imagine #tobio x you #kags x reader #hq x you #haikyuu imagines #hq kageyama #kagehina

[cuquitalocita]

smile and lie- feysand

AN: no, this isn’t a part three to kids and car rides (BUT IT IS IN PROGRESS)-  i just had a dream about it and had to write it- hope you like it :)

~~

“So we meet again.” 

Rhys grinned at the annoyed-looking redhead across from him. There was no doubt in his mind that the man wanted to strangle him every time he saw him and Rhys wasn’t sure if he could blame him. 

Folding his hands behind his head, Rhys leaned back in the uncomfortable office chair and gazed at his principal. 

“How’ve you been Mr. Vanserra?”

“Worse and worse every time I see you, Rhysand. Worse and worse.” His principal pushed his chair away from his desk; Rhys tracked the movement with his eyes in silence. 

“Not that I don’t love our weekly chats, Mr. Vanserra- because I do. I absolutely adore them.” The man rolled his eyes as Vice-Principal Helion walked through the doors and sat in the seat next to him, both now facing Rhys. He should’ve shrunk under their gazes. His grin only grew. “But why am I here? Again?” 

Helion sighed, his head falling into his hands and running over his face in blatant frustration. 

“Tell me this, Mr. Knight. You are aware that there are other students at this school, correct?” Rhys raised his brows. 

“This is news to me.” Helion ignored him, continuing forward. 

“And because of this, I and other faculty members have other students- other issues to worry about, than you acting up.” Rhys grinned as Mr. Vanserra nodded his agreement. “From the first day of your freshman year, Rhysand, you have been nothing more than a menace to the faculty and teachers in this institution.” 

Rhys felt kind of offended. He knew Mr. Tarquin liked him- even if he pretended not to. And he didn’t consistently try to make life any harder for them than they had to be. Sort of. 

“Being a distraction in class, using the fragile and- might I add- expensive lab equipment to perform practical jokes-” Rhys snorted at the mention of his and Cassian’s joke sophomore year. In his defense, the sulfur wasn’t supposed to react that much. “...disrespecting your teachers, trying the patience of your coach, and now vandalism.” 

Rhys kept his face impassive. He swore the principal had some sort of grudge against him. Any minor inconvenience and bam- Rhysand Knight was to blame. To be fair, he was to blame for this. But vandalism was a harsh term for it. He and Mor had gotten bored after school the day prior and had found a few half-empty spray paint bottles.  

It had been a short Baudelaire quote, not a threat of murder, and the white paint had been barely visible with its awful quality. Rhys held back the roll of his eyes- of course Vanserra would rail him for this. 

He crossed his arms over his chest, his leather jacket stretching uncomfortably, and eyed his superiors with thinly veiled disinterest. He opened his mouth to respond. 

“Look-” Whatever bullshit he was going to spew about his innocence came to a halt as the door to the office breezed open, revealing an out-of-breath girl. The men in front of him turned their attention to her as well, and Rhys breathed a silent sigh of relief from the momentary break. 

He gazed silently at the girl in the doorway, sporting clunky combat boots and a denim jacket, both splattered with a variety of paint colors. Her cheeks were flushed and her chest was heaving as if she had literally sprinted to the office, and her blue-grey eyes immediately pinned him in place. 

She was pretty- beautiful, even. But she was a complete stranger to him. 

Rhys was sure her confused frown mirrored his own and the girl narrowed her eyes as Vanserra stood, folding his hands in front of him and clearing his throat.��

“Miss Archeron,” he greeted, tone cold. “Thank you for joining us.” 

She arched a brow, taking the seat next to Rhys’s own. She mimicked his own posture, crossing her arms in front of her and leaning back in her chair. Her boot tapped against the ground in a quiet rhythm. 

“My pleasure,” she replied, her tone holding more snark than it should, considering who was across from her. The only person Rhys was aware of who had the guts to speak like that to their superiors was him. 

But her voice was honey-sweet- it suited her. 

Still- he had no idea who she was. He tried not to turn to her as her lilac scent enveloped him and instead stared at the principal. 

“Now that we’re all here,” Helion took a deep breath and locked his gaze on the Archeron girl. “The two of you were caught vandalizing school property yesterday between the hours of three and four PM, using spray paint.”

If Rhys had water in his mouth he would’ve spewed it all over his principal as the words left his mouth. Yes, he had vandalized school property. Yes, it had been after school. And yes, he had used spray paint. But the girl sitting next to him had nothing to do with that. He hadn’t even seen her before now. 

It seemed she was thinking the same thing as she shot him a look from the corner of her eye, both of their gazes meeting in an amused, ‘can you believe this?’ Rhys was actually surprised the girl wasn’t glaring daggers at him for somehow dragging her into a mess she had no part in. 

Instead, she just watched the two men in front of her, her lips slightly parted as if in a silent laugh. Rhys noticed a small twinkle in her eye- a twinkle of amusement. 

Vanserra, however, did not find the entire situation amusing and slammed his palm flat down on the desk in front of them. Neither one of them flinched, instead meeting gazes again with intense eyes before turning back to the men in front of them. 

“I don’t know how things worked at your last school, Feyre. But here we don’t tolerate vandalism. It’s rude, destructive, and not to mention a federal crime. I’m not sure how you ended getting mixed up with Mr. Knight here, but it may be the biggest mistake you’ve made since coming to this school.” Rhys would have been offended if it hadn’t been the truth. 

The girl- Feyre, merely raised her brows until they scrunched together as he kept talking. 

“The two of you would be better off admitting to it now before we get the authorities involved. I’m sure the Velaris University of Arts would appreciate knowing exactly who they’re giving a scholarship to. Don’t you, Feyre?”

Whatever response he had expected to get out of her was rewarded with nothing more than the slight stiffening of her shoulders, which only Rhys could feel from beside her. 

What an ass. 

Clearly bringing up something that was important to her- and threatening to take it away for something she had nothing to do with. It must’ve been her hair, he realized. Although Mor was a bright blonde, the shitty camera quality could easily have painted her color darker, making it a golden brown like Feyre’s. 

Rhys was amazed at Feyre’s strong will. She simply stared back at Vanserra in silence, as if daring him to threaten her again. Helion finally sighed, looking at the teenagers with something like pity. 

“Look, you two. I understand that you’re young. And when you’re young, you start to make choices that seem fun because other people are doing it.” 

A sharp laugh shot out of Feyre beside him and she disguised it as a cough. Rhys found his own lips tilting into a smile. He placed his hand over his mouth to cover it as he caught Feyre’s eye once more, her blue-gray eyes glistened with knowing humor- his reflected the same thing. She had a beautiful laugh, and it had his heart flipping uncomfortably in his chest. 

Across from them, Helion cleared his throat. Vanserra was glaring daggers at the two of them and before he could open his mouth to say anything, Feyre’s hand flew to Rhys’s knee. She placed her hand there casually as if they were friends- or even something more- and did it all the time. He attempted not to jerk forward with the electric shock her touch sent through his body. 

What are you doing? Rhys asked her with his eyes.

Just trust me. She seemed to respond in a flash of gray eyes before turning back to the principal and fixing him with a disinterested gaze. 

“Look, you’ve got the wrong girl. I don’t know what time you have us allegedly vandalizing the wall, but I was at work all afternoon yesterday.” Now Rhys felt bad. He had accidentally dragged an innocent girl into this mess with him- and she even had an alibi. 

There was no way Vanserra would believe her, which only left Rhys feeling even more guilty. 

“Yesterday was my first day and I accidentally got lost walking by the football field. Rhysand saw me and skipped practice to walk me to work- that’s why he wasn’t there.” Rhys startled as the lie slipped easily through her lips. He had definitely not walked her to work yesterday. But she was covering for him, so he kept his face impassive. 

Vanserra’s eyes narrowed but Feyre looked unaffected. 

“You can check with my boss if you want. Rhysand was with me from three to… at least four forty-five. There’s no way he was the one you saw in the video. I’m not either, by the way. But again, you’re more than welcome to call my boss and confirm it with her. I’m sure she’d be delighted with your interruption.” 

Feyre’s fingers tapped a calm rhythm on his knee and Vanserra turned the color of his hair under her cool gaze. Rhys had to bite his tongue to keep from letting out a laugh. 

“Well, Miss Archeron, since you seem so inclined to prove your own- and Mr. Knight’s innocence, I may do just that.” Helion grabbed a pen and paper as the principal sneered at the two of them. “Her name?” 

Feyre grinned, her teeth glistening pearly white under the office lights. 

“Amren Cauldron.” 

Every bit of air seemed to be sucked out of the room as Helion’s pen stilled in his hand and Rhys swore his principal flinched. Rhys himself felt his own throat go dry and he attempted to keep his eyes from widening. 

Amren Cauldron was one of- if not the most terrifying woman in Prythian. She was practically a myth since Rhys was a child. The woman- or in most stories- the witch that lived in the corner of town-owned a small book store complete with strange spices and old relics along with books holding languages long since faded. 

A witch she might not have been. But scary and intimidating, not to mention mean? 

That she was. 

Rhys had seen her around town, her old age doing absolutely nothing to alter her terrifying exterior. She was unwrinkled and wicked, with her slits for eyes and cruel smile. 

She’ll eat you with those teeth, Cassian had told him one night when they were eight, hiding under the covers and telling scary stories. But there was no story to be told about Amren Cauldron. She was real, and she was scary, alright. Rhys still heard horror stories about her circling around school from time to time. He had even heard one last week. 

Rhys couldn’t think of a time he had heard a kind word out of her mouth, let alone heard her speak to anyone in town as a friend. Everyone he spoke to chose to keep their distance. Probably the smartest thing to do if he was being honest. 

But here Feyre was, working for her. And through all the myths of Amren eating children, Rhys gazed at Feyre Archeron and decided that he too could easily have a soft spot for the brunette. 

Feyre’s mouth tilted up to the side and she arched a brow. 

“Well? Do you need her phone number?” Feyre turned toward her backpack and began shuffling through it, one of her hands still burning a hole in his knee. “I know I have it here some-”

“That won’t be necessary,” Helion interrupted, his voice higher than it had moments before. Vanserra looked pale and cleared his throat, twisting his fingers on the desk in front of him. 

Rhys and Feyre shared an amused glance, an exhilarated blush dusting her cheeks. 

“We wouldn’t want to interrupt Ms. Cauldron at work,” Vanserra stated, glaring at the teenagers in front of him. 

The principals exchanged a silent conversation before turning back to them and sighing. 

“The two of you are free to go. Now that we think about it, the video was fairly blurry. It could’ve been anyone considering both people had hoodies on. For this reason- and for this reason, only, you’re off the hook.” 

Rhys and Feyre let out a collected sigh of relief. 

“But don’t think,” Vanserra interrupted. “That I won’t be watching the two of you. Vandalism is still a crime. Rhysand, I expect to see you at football practice every day this week.”

Rhys nodded his silent agreement. 

“And my scholarship?” Feyre pressed sharply. Rhys could tell Vanserra was holding back a roll of his eyes as Feyre’s gaze locked onto him. 

“The University will not be informed of this mishap. Your scholarship will remain fully intact.” Feyre smiled, falling back into her seat with a pleased nod.

“Well?” he snapped. “Out of my office.” 

The two teenagers needed no further encouragement as they grabbed their bags and practically booked it out of the office, only letting their grins show after they had turned their backs to the principals. 

By the time the door shut behind them, Rhys had managed to still his incredulity for the girl beside him. He still had no idea how he had never seen her before this encounter, and he knew he would have a hard time if he never saw her again

There was something about Feyre Archeron that intrigued him, and he knew- from the bottom of his soul, that she was something else. 

The two of them walked in silence through the empty halls, everyone still in the middle of their fifth period, leaving the hallways empty and eerie. But Rhys had always liked the silence- liked the solidarity in the middle of ongoing classes. 

He wouldn’t go back to class today. But he would show up for practice- just like he had promised. In the silence of the hallway, Rhys glanced at the girl next to him. 

Feyre’s hair was tied up in a ponytail and if Rhys looked close enough, he was able to see a small splatter of neon green paint by her hair tie. He hid his small smile. Who was this girl? 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” he finally said when the silence became too much. He had a feeling Feyre Archeron wasn’t the type to appreciate a ‘thank you for saving my ass.’

Her gaze snapped to his, gray eyes meeting violet before she gave him a small smile that almost had him floored. 

“You wouldn’t have. I’m new.” Rhys nodded. There was no way he wouldn’t have noticed her in years prior. He wondered just how long she had been walking the halls a stranger to him.

“Well maybe I’ll see you around,” he couldn’t keep himself from saying as Feyre stopped in front of a locker-her locker, and rolled in the combination, opening it to reveal a hot mess of clearly unfinished art projects. She took something out of her backpack and shoved it into the locker. 

“Not if you keep getting caught, you won’t.” 

“Excuse me?” Feyre shut her locker, the sound ringing through the empty hallway, and fixed him with a knowing look. 

“Never mind.” Feyre turned to walk down the opposite hallway but paused before reaching the threshold, turning back with a sly smile. Rhys ignored the pounding of his heart. “Nice pants, by the way.” 

He frowned, confused and unable to resist looking down at his pants. 

His jaw dropped. 

Rhys was an idiot. He hadn’t even bothered to check what jeans he had thrown on earlier that morning and had coincidentally chosen the same ones he had worn the day prior. The same jeans sporting splatters of white spray paint on the right knee. 

Rhys exhaled as he realized the explanation of Feyre’s earlier hand placement. She had been covering up the stain. Saving his ass- again.

He turned back to Feyre only to be faced with the back of her denim jacket as she walked down the hallway, leaving him in the dust. 

“Wait!” Rhys called out, hating how hopeful he sounded. What was he doing? He had never been this fascinated by a girl before. Feyre’s head whipped back around, her ponytail flicking her shoulder with the movement as she pinned him with a curious gaze. “What are your shift hours at Amren’s?” Whether or not he would actually have the guts to walk through the door was another story entirely. 

The smirk that curled on her lips could have been described as nothing less than purely wicked. 

“How should I know? I’ve never even seen the place.”

~~

yeah i think i’m only capable of writing high school feysand... 

@emikadreams​ (hope i did that right idk how tags work)​

#feysand #feyre archeron #rhysand #acotar #acomaf #feysand fic #sjm #a court of thorns and roses #feysand fluff #feysand au #modern au