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chrollohearttags · 6 months

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“silly boy, come find me when you’re older!” • a. artlert

synopsis: two lovers realize their relationship isn’t meant to be but that doesn’t mean they have to part ways forever..

content + themes: fem!reader (black coded), age gap (2-3 years, armin is 19, reader is 21-22) college au-ish (armin is going to nursing school + reader is a business grad), star-crossed lovers trope, angst + comfort, missionary, riding, hand holding, heavy kissing, crying (not dacryphila), accidental creampie, pet names (baby, mama, baby boy, angel), drug mentions, he gets possessive for like .2 seconds.

word count: 3.1K

📝: I have been so in love with fluff and the idea of soft smut lately (maybe it’s the holidays, maybe it’s my hormones..who knows!) but this is a part of a new au I’m starting! A new story that’ll be coming out soon and I can’t wait. For now, enjoy one of several side fics to accompany it! Also, please tell me y’all know this title reference 😭

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“I really wish you wouldn’t look at me like that…”

the phrase seemed to have alluded him yet again..slipping through one ear and out the next. Almost as if only his body was present and his mind and spirit were elsewhere. It was to be expected though..

“..armie..? Aren’t you going to say something, baby? Anything?..”

you had just confided in him quite possibly the worst thing ever. In truth, his heart was breaking and there wasn’t a single thing that either of you could do to mend it. Although, you felt solely responsible..that the reason for his pain was entirely your fault. But it was a necessary confession nonetheless. One that you truly believed would benefit you both. Distance. Distance between the two of you so that he could properly pursue his education. A long sought after dream of becoming a nurse. Following directly in his mother’s footsteps and making her proud..it was all Armin ever wanted. As it stood, that was a mere concept and it was thanks to the girl lying next to him. His sweet, beloved (y/n). The (y/n) he reunited with at a house party one night and had been wildly entangled with ever since. Hooking up, drinking and smoking…what most peers your age was doing but you also had bigger aspirations for both Armin and yourself. He wanted to become a registered nurse, working with children and you were already two years deep into your collegiate journey as a business major. Laser focused and ambitious..ready to conquer your goals. You couldn’t waste your lives away in the back of his car, hotboxing and having sex. As fun as this little whirlwind romance was, you had to cut things off. At least for the foreseeable future..for both of your sakes. It wasn’t an easy decision in the slightest and you were far more torn up by the situation than what you were letting on but it had to be done. Regardless of your emotions..

“..I just don’t understand..I mean, is there someone else? Why don’t you want me anymore?…”

there it was..underneath all of those newly etched tattoos, shaggy blonde locks and suave charm lied that sweet, gentle boy. The same nerdy kid you’d first encountered whilst attending the same high school. Although two years apart, you found him to be adorable and couldn’t help but to grace the awkward brainiac with a smile every morning on his visits to the library. A beautiful goddess like you even acknowledging him? He was grateful for that alone! But it wasn’t until his senior year did the two of you reconnect. By that time, he had shed his thick, wire framed glasses for icy blue contacts to match his own..grew out his blonde bowl cut to a curly shag and had even acquired a couple of art pieces on his arm. Not to mention, gained some muscle from playing basketball. Some say you were the catalyst for his sudden change. Although this appearance was new, deep down, he was still that wide eyed genius with unbelievable intelligence. And best believe, your kindness wasn’t lost on him. So it came as no surprise, when you happened to cross paths with him at a graduation party that your younger sister, who happened to be in the same class with him, was attending..he found the courage to finally talk to you face to face. All of his newfound confidence flew out of the window when he saw you..that ethereal skin, deity like features and of course, that smile. That smile that made his heart flutter. “You haven’t changed a bit, baby boy…”

certainly his looks had, but you saw through all of that. You saw Armin for who he truly was and for that, he couldn’t allow you to slip away without confessing his true feelings. So that night, with liquor in his veins, he charmed you with sweet words and told you that he’d always had the biggest crush on you. It didn’t take long for you guys to get involved..days after that party, you began seeing one another. Both romantically and intimately. However, your relationship wasn’t exactly conventional or ideal..you were good for each other, perhaps a little too well. Because every moment that presented itself, you’d find yourself in every bed, couch, bathroom or backseat..going at it like rabid animals. The sex was insane and you couldn’t get enough of each other. It was only coupled by the sensation of the drugs coursing your veins..stimulants that sent your mind to places you didn’t need to be. Although there was never a single fight between you two, you knew the relationship wasn’t a healthy one. You encouraged each other’s worst habits. He had gotten a full ride scholarship to his dream school and you had obtained several as well for your ideal program. But you both stood to lose those if you didn’t make some changes. Ditching class to go smoke and then fucking him in every square inch of your off campus apartment. Sending him nudes and salacious messages during class, along with always being underneath each other. He’d never be able to focus and stay on track at this rate! Hence why you had to be the mature one and break things off. Even if it brought you to tears as well. So with a shaky palm, as you lay in bed next to one another, you’d bring a hand to his face and quell his doubts.

“You couldn’t possibly think that..you're the only one I want, Armin. I swear on everything..but..we can’t keep doing this. I love you so much but we’re no good for each other. At least not right now..”

but he’d attest, almost immediately. Insisting that he could buckle down and focus on his goals at hand. However, your mind was made up. That blind obsession and adoration for you would never allow him his room for growth. It wasn’t fair. Here you were only another year shy of receiving your degree and he was barely even started. You had to give him a fair shot, even if it meant removing yourself from the equation. You had even found an internship. He’d try to talk you out of it, convince you that he could juggle both college and you but regardless of how smart he was, nursing school was an entirely different beast in and of itself. It would require his full attention and dedication if he wanted to be an exceptional caregiver. No drugs, no distractions…no you. His studies deserved all of his time.

“So why can’t we make it work then? Isn’t that what couples do or was I nothing more than a joke?”

“Armin…”

in that moment, he’d tug away and roll over onto his side, giving you the proverbial cold shoulder and it stung like hell. The last thing you wanted to do was fight the man you loved. If anything, you wished things could stay like this forever. But you both had growing up to do and until that happened, it was best you parted ways.

“..I have an idea..”

But it wasn’t something that had to be permanent..for now though, there was no need to be upset with one another when you could spend your remaining time enjoying yourselves. Gently pulling him back towards you, you’d maneuver your legs until you were able to crawl on top of him. Those long acrylics scaled his freshly tattooed chest as you gently straddled his waist..at that moment, his little cheeks flushed red and you’d feel his breathing becoming slightly heavier. You’d lean down and begin peppering light kisses to his temple and all around his face..all while slowly rolling your hips against his crotch. With you, he was vulnerable..at his softest and would undoubtedly listen to whatever you said. “I’m all ears..”

that’s when you’d devise a plan that you believed that both of you could agree upon. An agreement of sorts.. “..two years..in two years, we can see each other again, just like this. We’ll work hard and reach our goals. You’ll be in your senior year, doing clinicals and I’ll be at my new job. We can find a place and finally start our lives together. Armin, I love you so much and I don’t want to see you throw your life away. Please..promise me you’ll find your way back to me when you’re ready. When we’re both in a better place..” once he spotted your tearful plea and heard the tone in your voice, he knew what had to be done. Personal feelings aside..you were absolutely right. He knew if he stood any chance of keeping you in his life, he had to blossom into a grown man that you could be proud of. One that was worthy of being called yours. Reaching up, Armin would grasp your hand and bring it to his lips for a gentle kiss, holding it close. He wanted to remember that feeling..savor it and savor you as well. God, he didn’t want you to leave, he wasn’t ready to say goodbye!..but this was the only way. The only way he could ensure that he got to have you in the long run. He wanted you two to grow old together so he’d make this temporary sacrifice to be able to share an eternity with you.

“..you have my word, angel. I promise..I promise I’ll come back to you a better man than what I’ve been..”

“Then take me…right here.”

just then, you’d feel his hand snake up your spine and tug you down towards his chest..not another word was exchanged. Just slow, tender pecks and breathy moans..immersed in the covers and in one another, you’d allow the moment to take you both. Your palms cupping his cheek and his gripping your ass, you’d tousle around underneath the sheets. It didn’t take long for the endearing moment to become rather heated but it was a true testament of the passion between you two. In a moment of haste, his nails would gently dig into the curvature of your back as you leaned up. In a matter of minutes, you’d feel his once flaccid erect growing harder underneath you. The sensation of your dripping heat making direct contact with him..and it was driving him crazy! He needed you so badly right now and you were just the same.

“Armieeee..”

calling out with a high pitched whimper as you ground yourself against him. You couldn’t stop either..almost as if you’d simply combust if you were to be pulled away from him right now. Frail cries would escape his lips as well but he’d find a semblance of control to satisfy your desires, which took precedence over everything else.

“Yes, baby? Tell me what you need..”

cooing to you in that sweet, loving tone that always managed to turn you to meet putty in his hands every time. You were still hopelessly rutting yourself against him; arousal overflowing from between your thighs that quickly. He knew what you wanted but he needed to hear you say the fateful words..give him instruction and guidance the way you had always done. “Hey, look at me, mama..” gently snatching your head forward and forcing eye contact as your chest heaved. “N-need you. Need you so bad, baby..please. Make love to me..” and with that whiny declaration, he’d make haste in fulfilling your wish. With a cocked smile, Armin would reign you in tighter, reaching for you. “Then here..take my hands, angel..” on his command, your hands would join in a gentle clasp, combining as one as you adjusted your lower half to align with his. He’d buck his hips upward and you’d lower yourself down as your bodies became one… meeting in an instant. “Fuck…” the word escaping your mouths simultaneously along with gentle moans. That seemed to be the theme for the night. A stark comparison to the wild nights you shared together previously. Perhaps.. it was the realization that this was really the last time you’d get to do this for a while. That he wouldn’t be able to feel the comfort of your body, to smell your intoxicating scent..to clash with your plump lips..to taste the sticky gloss that coated them. To stare into those gorgeous brown eyes. So as he lie underneath you, being rode to kingdom come as your tightness constricted around him once more, Armin would close his eyes and absorb every memory, every fiber of you..ensuring that he’d never forget his first and true love.

“There you go, baby. Right there..ride me—fuck!”

and he couldn’t possibly forget how you made him feel. How you set him ablaze with your overwhelming passion..still bound hand in hand, heart to heart, you’d keep going. Throwing your head to the wind and calling out your lover’s name, lifting it to the heavens as you bounced up and down. Taking him to your hilt; allowing that swollen tip to prod your most sensitive area. “Armin, baby! Yes..oh my gosh, you feel so good.” For the first time, you didn’t just fuck him. His flesh was more than a mere vessel of pleasure..it was your soul becoming one with his own. You were experiencing true pleasure in its purest form..and neither of you wanted it to end. Finally opening his eyes, he’d be greeted by the ethereal view of your breasts swaying and your beautiful face throwed in ecstasy filled bliss. “Aw, baby..you’re so beautiful. My favorite view in the entire world.” Smiling as tears streamed generously down your cheeks. “Oh my God—I love you, Armin! I love you so much.” Confessing with all that you could muster. And that warm, gushing sensation derived from your sex wasn’t lost on Armin either. He’d find himself in a fit of heaving as your walls closed in around his cock. Squeezing him as if to never let go. “Ahh!-shit..I love you too, baby!—“

in that moment, he could no longer hold back his urges. His need to claim full dominion over you..hastily, he’d bring you to a cease before maneuvering and flipping you over onto your back. It was then that he’d mount you. Diving between your legs as he held each in place. He didn’t even take a moment to adjust. It was mere seconds before you’d find yourself filled with him yet again and he’d begin his descent into your mix. Sloshing and drumming up slick as your thighs collided in a fiery haze. The bed..the one that you’d messed around in so many times before served as the place of consummation for your devotion tonight..ricocheting and colliding with the wall as thunderous slams erupted. Your limbs entangled as your legs found home around his waist and your arms on his back. His entire frame lay bare and pressed to your own as those hips crashed into you. It felt unreal..so unbelievably unreal. But this was the present..your reality for the time being so you’d savor every last moment you got together. Drilling further into your body, his pace sped to a barrage of more steady, consistent strokes. Ones that he would accompany with sloppy tongue kisses. Filling your mouth with them as he pounded you gently. You couldn’t keep your hands off of each other. Regardless of how many times you slept together, something about this moment was starkly different. “Look at me, (y/n)!…” once again, snatching your head forward to meet his gaze. “You’re mine..you’re mine and I don’t give a damn where you go. I belong to you, you hear me? Don’t forget that..” those tears that had been brimming in his eyes finally fell and you’d affirm his sentiment with a fierce nod of your head, assuring him that no amount of distance or time could ever dissipate the love you shared for one another. “Yes baby! And I’m all yours, forever. I won’t ever leave you.” Sealing your promises with one final act..

“Yeah? You mean that?” “Every word, baby. I want you to always be with me..” Vocalizing back and forth as he continually thrashed around inside of your pussy until he sensed the urge that you were close. Upholding one another’s heads in a passionate fury, you’d exchange breathy words amid your love making. Telling him you’re near your peak and him telling you to let go. “Come for me, baby. You can come all over—“ but alas, before he could grant you permission, it would seem that he’d reach his climax first; glaring with a wide eyed expression as his seed filled you to the brim..something he’d never done before! Cursing himself and apologizing as he shook violently, draining every drop of himself into you. Perhaps he took your words a bit too literal but it was far too late to turn back now and shortly after, you’d follow. Showering him with a splatter of sticky rain. Squeezing and dripping all down his shaft. You’d convulse and flail around the mattress until he was able to quell you with gentle kisses. “I’m right here, mama. Let it out, it’s okay..” but once you were back into consciousness, you still wouldn’t let go and you remained entangled like this minutes afterwards. Exchanging “I love you’s” and sweet nothings. Along with tears..shedding them not for what would be lost but the time you had together and the comfort in knowing that you’d reunite soon enough. This time as more than friends with benefits or even mere freshmen sweethearts. But as an entity, an item that could never be separated because your bond was forged on a stronger foundation than one made of pure lust. It was love that would drive you to be better versions of yourselves, to work hard and it was love..that would bring you right back to one another when the time was truly right!

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@citysweet @greenieweeniesworld @hoohoohope @c0pkiller @bey0nseh @violetxxvenom @dragonmaiden79 @fuck-your-chickenstrips-hoe @saiki-enthusiast

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scientia-rex · 28 days

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More people continue to be upset that smoking is bad for you and you should try to quit again, starting now, if at all possible. They believe that this is “judgy.”

Like Jesus Christ, how many more times do I have to mention that I smoked? I smoked and I quit. I quit before a lot of these infants were born. I do not think you’re a bad person if you smoke, I think you’re at a higher risk of dying. I smoked those fucking clove cigarettes that we thought were so cool and goth in 2002. I have anxiety; smoking made me feel a little bit better, but you know what made me feel a LOT better? 10mg of Lexapro daily. The right medicine, instead of an expensive, ineffective band-aid.

I get SO many vibes on this of the same stuff I got when I innocently posted to be like “so everything you hear about weight is wrong, actually, exercise doesn’t lead to large-scale long-term sustainable weight loss but it’s beneficial anyway, and dieting also doesn’t lead to large-scale long-term weight loss, but exercising and eating lots of plants will help you live longer and be healthier anyway” and it was like I poured butane on a circuit board and lit it with a laser. People BROKE.

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sebastianswallows · 2 months

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girldad!Feyd Headcanons

— WARNINGS: angst, but also fluff — A/N: In the canon, Feyd’s daughter with Margot was named Marie Fenring, and she dies a tragic death at quite a young age. This is going to be a completely self-indulgent fix-it. Enjoy ✨

Sure, he’s the most violent and unhinged madman this side of Gamma Waiping, but even Feyd knows there’s a time and place for everything.

The time being when the Atreides are defeated and the Emperor rewards him and he’s free to go after the Fenrings with his Harkonnen troops.

First, they find Count Hasimir, a frail little man with rodent-like features and thin greying hair. The Emperor’s oldest friend, and the best assassin in the known universe. Feyd knows better than to take him on in single combat, so he has his men deal with him while he goes after Margot.

He finds her in the furthest room of their castle past a cadre of guards that he makes short work of. She’s holding a little girl’s hand… Small and pale with thick dark ringlets, she looks just like he did as a child. He can tell even past the thick visor of the helm he wears — something made to not only protect but also block out sound. Margot knows it’s him just by his gait. She speaks, but it doesn’t matter. Her voice has no effect this time.

He sees the flash of a laser on the wall as his men join him and block the only exit. Feyd walks over to Margot, uncoils the little girl’s hand from hers, and takes her away. Lady Fenring will be brought to Kaitain to answer for her crimes against the once-young na-Baron. The Bene Gesserits, humbled after their near defeat on Arrakis, will not defend her actions — she has already served her purpose anyway.

The little girl looks up at him as they walk away with an unsettling and knowing light in her dark eyes. Feyd gazes down at her and, although she could not see his face, it was as if they’d always known each other.

But he also notices her little legs can hardly keep up with his stride. Oh, that’s right, children are smaller… He stops, kneels, and lifts her up into his arms as he carries her back to the ship.

He was actually nervous about taking off his helmet in front of her. What would she think of seeing a Harkonnen for the first time? They were so different from the soft and sunkissed people of the planet she was raised on…

But she had an eery calm to her even at the age of seven standard years. She regards him no differently than before and also does not acknowledge any need for reverence, even when he tells her who he is.

“Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen.” “Hello.” “And what’s your name?” “Marie.”

He found himself genuinely shy when he informed her he was her father, and was all the more surprised to find an impish smile grow on her face. “I know.” Margot must have told her after all…

She doesn’t cry, she doesn’t seem afraid, but Feyd comforts her the whole way to their home planet. He pets her dark crown of curls as she sits beside him on the ship, supports her back when she drinks, and makes out of galactic maps the most unusual of toys to distract her with on the long journey back. None of it comes naturally to him and for the first time he has to think before he acts. It leaves his nerves rattled, but every time she looks up into his eyes and smiles so innocently he gains his calm again.

Giedi Prime was not the first place he had in mind for raising a child, but the other planets he could lay claim to — Lankiveil and Arrakis — were not great choices either. Now that he was Baron, this was where he had to be — at least until the Emperor decided who should govern Arrakis following the trouble with the Fremen. The Corrinos left a cadre of Mentats in charge to oversee the change for now.

She hates the planet at first, scrunching up her little face at the stark white light during the day, at the poisonous smoke, at the vast black wastes filled with petrol. Feyd engages an ecologist the first week Marie is there and plans a series of greenhouses for her with the best water filtration systems spice can buy.

“Why can’t the whole planet be like this?” she asks when he first shows it to her. They walk through young trees, Feyd dodging thin branches of raw red and green while his daughter skips ahead like a lamb. “Because it just can’t,” he mutters. “But why?” “Because it would cost too much.” “How much?” “I don’t know.” “Why not?”

A secret communication arrives to the Emperor inquiring whether he has room in his court for a new assassin now that Hasimir Fenring is gone.

His days are split between official duties, training in the arena, and playing with Marie. He discovers a part of himself again when he is with her — that innocent part that had been lost or buried when he first got to Giedi Prime. There is a satisfaction in making it for her a less brutal arrival, even a pleasant one.

He finds her laughing as she runs through the long halls, tugging on the lances of the guards — who look horrified at the sight of a playful child for the first time, but stay obediently still — and throwing rocks into the oil pools outside the palace to gawk at the pretty rainbow colours.

She loves the vaporous transparent gowns the servants wear, and the servants love her too. They dote on her, fearfully at first but more boldly when they notice Feyd’s approval. The retention rate goes up starkly at the palace, as does the average longevity.

Everyone is puzzled about what to do with her hair, but Marie teaches Feyd to braid it the way her mother did. She’s not shy about berating him either whenever he gets it wrong.

And most nights he falls asleep with her in one arm and a holographic storyreel in the other. He wants to be the sort of parent he only briefly had, the kind he vaguely remembers from his years on Lankiveil.

He dreams of his mother now more than he ever did, and wakes up feeling sorry for how much he falls short. He has no idea how to care for a child, no idea of how to raise her, but he knows he wants to try. Wants to succeed, for her. Marie might not have been an intended child, the way he was, but she was his own flesh and blood and he’d be damned before he made her feel unwanted.

His harpies love her, of course. But he fears they do a bit too much and dismisses them not one month after Marie arrives on the planet. While he’s never indulged, he can only imagine with a frightful shiver how sweet and tender a child’s flesh is.

To the consternation of his people, he flies in tutors from other planets for her. Philosophers from Ecaz, musicians from Chusuk, biologists from Lernaeus, and even a historian from Kaitain itself. She has a Mentat but no Bene Gesserit to serve in her education. His uncle had been wrong about a lot of things, but the scheming of witches was not one of them.

Her bedroom — more white and pale blue than the standard inky black, and decorated with pink ribbons — has a court of dollies on one side and toy swords on the other. Feyd’s love of weaponry does not escape her and, in her childish innocence, she’s fascinated by it all. He takes delight in this, of course, but worries too. Imagining his little child with blood on her hands scares him, and it makes him wonder what sort of person his uncle was to encourage it in him.

In loving her, Feyd’s never felt more unloved himself. Sure, he had his mother and father at one point, but all of that was taken from him when he was Marie’s age. Since then, nobody had cared about him, nobody had even wanted him unless it was to fulfil a purpose. Not his uncle, not his brother, not even Margot…

He comforted himself now that he’d spared Marie of such a fate. His little girl would not become a glorified breeding horse for the Bene Gesserits nor a pawn in the Emperor’s games. He would fill her life with all the things he never had.

Marie grows as the gardens grow, and Feyd begins to speak with the professor from Lernaeus and a retired planetologist from Acline about plans for terraforming Giedi Prime, and one day putting Marie in charge. Her lessons become more structured.

A fact to which she protests, but not for long. She is clever for her age, and understanding, and nobody can explain to her better than Feyd that, although learning can seem useless and boring compared to play, she needs to prepare for the years to come.

“You like the gardens, don’t you?” “Yes…” “And you like eating fruit, right?” “Yes, and smelling flowers.” “What if you could do that all the time, then? Not just in the greenhouses?”

She comes to like the skies of Giedi Prime as well, and the way fireworks look like ink blots. Her every birthday is marked with an array of black and white that make the sky a work of art.

Marie never asks to be the sort of Baroness that always lays around, because Feyd doesn’t do that either. As she grows older he starts to spend more time with her during the day, letting her sit in on meetings, and they debate for hours afterwards on what course the Barony should take. He finds she is more brave than he is, but more reckless too.

“No, little melon, we can’t just declare war on them.” “But why? You know they’re spying on us…” “Yes, but we have no proof.” “Of course we have proof. How would you know otherwise?” “Proof needs to be physical or recorded.” “Let’s record them spying, then.” “Well now they know that we know, so they will have a different approach.” “I still think war would end the problem faster. Or challenge them to a duel!” “I’m getting too old for this…”

They see more of the planet together too, venturing to the caves and crevices that run beneath the surface, taking samples of the native life bubbling in hot springs and collecting crystalline samples.

He takes her to Lankiveil for her fifteenth birthday and they sail together through its icy floes. She loves the sign of whales off in the distance and sounding the ship’s horn, although the local food leaves much to be desired.

“It smells weird.” “It’s fish.” “They stink…” “You want a salad instead?” “Yes, please…”

By the time she turns eighteen, the Emperor has decided to put Arrakis back into Harkonnen hands, and Feyd is terrified. As bad as Giedi Prime is, he wants to see her on Dune even less. Marie can tell this, observant as she is. She’s grown more quiet when she’s thinking and less rash with her decisions, but loud when she wants to be, and daring.

Feyd doesn’t know what to expect of Arrakis anymore and has mixed feelings about it, but he knows one thing for certain: anyone who’s a threat to his daughter there, dies.

“I’ll miss Giedi Prime,” she says as they’re approaching orbit. “It’s finally getting green in places, and rainclouds have begun to form…” “You can go back any time, you know,” says Feyd immediately. “I won’t keep you on this piece of hell…” “I’ll stay,” says Marie. She has the same strange determination she had in her eyes the day they met. “I heard it has old terraforming stations… I’ll want to visit them one day.”

It isn’t easy ruling a desert planet, even one that’s been subdued, but the new spice flow makes it worth it. Feyd keeps Marie close, teaches her everything, watches her grow, and soon she’s sent in delegations reporting to the Landsraad. She represents House Harkonnen better than her great uncle did — and, to Feyd’s pride, better than he ever could.

#Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen #Marie Fenring #Feyd-Rautha #Feyd-Rautha imagine #Feyd-Rautha headcanons #Dune part 2 #Dune imagine #Dune headcanons #Feyd #Dune #feyd rautha #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd rautha imagine #feyd rautha headcanons #sswallow;headcanons #sswallow;made a thing

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writing-mlm · 5 months

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Idk if you take requests right now, but if you do, can you please write more damian wayne x reader 🙏

Sincerely, someone who has been scavenging for damian fics for days 😔

New Years, Same Words [D.W]

Summary: He's tired of hiding, but damn Damian cannot be subtle for the life of him. Pairing: Damian Wayne x male!reader WC: 8.8k

a/n: recs are always open :3

Back home, school was so different, almost every single detail was different. The way humans digested information was so slow and inefficient; back home students wore helmets and immediately got the knowledge they’d need. No need for lectures or turn and talks. They’re learning ideas and math that, quite frankly, a child back home would’ve already learned.

But, you enjoyed this style. No matter how stupid it was. Back home, you never really had a chance to bond with peers or enjoy any activities like art or music. It was telepathic lessons and then home, usually, that’s when the kids would play together. But the school-sanctioned together time was nice.

Everything else sucked.

The hallways were cramped and you had to watch extra carefully to not bump into people and break their shoulders. No matter how badly you wanted to.

“(Y/n)!” You hear from across the hall and look over, seeing your adoptive brother running down the hallway with his bag almost slipping from his shoulder. “I’m here!” He says, beaming as he stands next to you.

“You’re a mess,” You chide while fixing his bag and almost pick him up in the process. “Apologies.”

“You ready for class?” He almost groans as he says it. “I swear, if she gives us another pop quiz, I’m going to laser her!” He whispers the last part and you chuckle.

“No quiz,” You reassure him, turning down the hallway. ELA was at the end of the hallway, right next to the smelly staircase where kids go to smoke or leave the building due to a faulty alarm system. “I heard we have a project.”

“From who?” He says, voice raising several octaves. Jon has this thing, he doesn’t believe news from certain people, even if they’re later proven to be right.

“Marissa,” He stops walking and you can basically hear his thoughts. He’s so debating skipping class. “She said it’s not bad, c’mon!” Grabbing the back of his collar, you pull him after you as you hear the start of the warning bell. Quickly, you pull your headphones from around your neck to your ears and the bell rings.

It’s at a human volume with the headphones on, so it’s still loud but not nearly as loud as it would’ve been otherwise.

School back home also didn’t have bells.

Sliding into your seat, you drop your bag in between your legs while glancing around. Mostly everyone is in class, save for a couple of people. The teacher is late, but you can hear her running up the staircase— not the smelly one, one that’s going to take her at least two minutes to get to class. She never uses a different staircase.

Mrs. Elton is particular about that sort of stuff, her classroom never changes. She’s gone as far as to superglue the desks in a permanent shape around the class. There are three groups of desks, two in the front and one in the back. The one in the back is a straight horizontal line of seven desks while the front ones are arranged in an upside-down T shape. The vertical side of the T has eight tables, with four tables turned to face each other, while the horizontal side has four desks.

Your seat is in the front, on the horizontal line. While seats aren’t technically assigned, they totally are assigned amongst everyone else. Jon has the seat in front of you, and he can never see the board properly since he has to turn his whole body around to see it.

Mrs. Elton finishes her run up the stairs as the final bell goes off and the remaining students trickle into class. Amongst them is your other seatmate, the girl who sits to your right. She looks a little upset but she visibly calms down when she sees you.

“I thought you were absent,” She tells you as she walks around your chair to get to hers. “You weren’t in second period, what the fuck, dude?” She playfully hits you with her bag before it settles on her lap.

“I was late,” You shrug, watching her pull out her pink Macbook case with several stickers on it. “Why, what happened second?” She gives you a look before she slips her bag down to the floor and you raise an eyebrow, looking at Jon who shrugs.

“They were making plans to make a bomb for the winter dance.” She says. “Those two kids who always sit in the back, like that’s normal right?” You nod, the two kids in the back always talk about school shootings and whatnot but they’re typically harmless. “They talked about how their orders for materials came in and exactly where they’re gonna plant it.”

“Text me,” She nods and Mrs. Elton walks into the room, effectively silencing the class. She’s dressed like an English teacher, which you hadn’t known was a stereotype for the longest. You thought there were dress codes for each subject teachers.

Go figure.

“Good morning!” She smiles, her kitten heels clicking on the brown tiled floor as she heads over to her desk. Her laptop is already connected to the smart board so she only has to log back in. “How was everyone’s weekend?” There are some murmurs amongst the kids but she takes what she can get.

“As I’m sure you’re all aware, we have a project!” With her presentation on the screen, she turns to face everyone and clasps her hands together. “This will not be a group project, but there are many options to choose from.” She turns around again, fiddling with the keyboard. “Skipping the do now, let’s get right into it.” She pulls up a slide that’s blank for now. She does this thing where she presses a button and words pop up. “The Best Friend project!” She announces as it pops up on the board.

“This is different from your other projects since this is a project that’s a week long. You only get this week to do it and everyone will be presenting next week. We’ll do it by volunteer order, if no one volunteers then I will call you to go!” She explains and you glance over at Jon. His back is to you, but you can see him rubbing his forehead.

“As seniors, you need to understand how to present. But this is an easier one to do since I’m giving you so many options!” A list of options pops up as she says that. “Firstly, you can make a photo slideshow and explain your friendship; you can make a video collage with a voiceover, you can write a newspaper article and read it to the class, or you can bring the person in. But only if they do not have my class. So say Blake wanted to do his project on say… Michael, he could not bring him in. But if Blake wanted to do his project on his neighbor, he could bring them in. Understand?” Everyone nods and she moves on.

“Pick the way you want to do your project today,” She says, looking over the class. “After today, we will not be working on this during class, we will continue to read Salvage the Bones.”

“Go ahead! Start!” She smiles and turns on the class playlist as everyone turns to their laptops.

“Who’re you doing yours on?” Amira asks, already on a blank slideshow document.

“Not you,” You laugh and she fake scoffs. “You don’t know him, though.” She hums in acknowledgment.

“Do I?” Jon asks and you look at him, head tilted and lips pulled into your mouth. “Ohhh!” He nods. “I’m doing mine on Jay!”

“Fun,” You offer a smile and look over the options.

Writing in English is not your strong suit, it’s why you weren’t allowed into AP classes. You were amazing with working on stuff but you were still learning English, despite living on Earth for four years now. Kara says that’s normal and it took her ages to get to your level of speaking and understanding English, but you feel stupid struggling with the words.

You pull out your phone and open your messages.

would u come to my school next week

4 a project

What type of project?

‘best friend project’

Is this like Show and Tell?

idk what that is…

I’ll explain later.

But I’ll agree, explain it to me tonight, okay?

kk :3

Closing your phone, you set it face down on the desk and look over the “bring a person in” section. It says you can either give a completely verbal presentation but you’ll need to create a transcript for it, for proper grading, or you can create a presentation in which the two of you explain what’s happening. You opt for the second one.

There are some requirements, though. Each presentation needs to be at least ten minutes long; which you think is absurd, there cannot be any cursing included, and visual aids are required for all but the verbal presentation. Videos cannot be longer than two minutes, and only a maximum of two videos— each of them gives an extra five points to your grade.

“Imagine someone does Damian Wayne.” The local Gothamite, Rebecca laughs and you share a look with Jon.

“I totally am!” Her friend, Mariam jokes. “We’ve been dating for ages, darling!” Her group shares a laugh and your mind is settled on doing yours on him.

—

Meeting Damian during his patrols had become somewhat of the norm since you started dating. For many reasons, but mainly since Batman doesn’t have super hearing, despite what the general public and some heroes may think. While you’re not entirely out of earshot of Kal-El, being in Gotham meant that he would have to focus a bit more on listening to you instead of doing whatever he was doing back home. Sure, sometimes Damian came to Metropolis, but that was rare. Only one of you could get to and from in three seconds, after all.

“So,” You start as you slowly lower yourself down to the roof he's standing on, it’s on the outer side of Gotham, away from any of the normal patrol spots. “You’re dating someone else?” Robin frowns and crosses his arms.

“Ya albi, never.” He says in the most reassuring tone you’ve ever heard him speak in while slowly pulling you close. “Where’d you hear this?” It’s hard continuing the charade and you give up, a grin spreading across your face. It lets him immediately know and his frown goes into an unamused glare.

“These girls were joking about dating you during class,” You explain as he pushes you away and rolls his eyes. You smile and pull him back towards you, he crosses his arms and makes a point to keep a distance between the two of you.

“Moving on,” He fixes your cape before wrapping his hands around your shoulders and pulling you down to his height. Leaning in, you watch his eyes close before he kisses you and you let your eyes close. Pulling him closer, you dig your fingers into his hips and smile when he smiles.

“I was thinking,” He says when the two of you pull away. “We should go to the New Year’s gala together,” You pause, standing up straight and looking over the Gotham skyline before back at him.

“As us?” You ask and he nods, his eyes searching your face for any signs of… anything really.

“We could go as us for the one father is hosting and then as Robin and Rao for the Justice League party.” He suggests and he means it. He’s just as tired of kissing in corners as you are and you smile, big and bright before calming yourself.

“Are you sure? This is an incredibly big step, there’s no taking it back.”

You’ve thought about this moment before. Even before you started dating, you’d daydream about the world finding out Robin and Rao were dating. About the world finding out that Damian Wayne is dating the adopted son of Lois Lane and Clark Kent, the world's best reporters.

It wasn’t always the best in your head, you thought of the villains and the press. The jealous fans and suddenly you’re no longer just that kid in school.

And you didn’t care. You’d thought of every single bad scenario, every scenario that almost made Clark and Lois break up; but it didn’t matter. You… you were in love with Damian, in every way. All of him, whatever he came with you were down for. You’d kill for him— you have killed for him. Not that he ever has to find that out.

“Rao,” He says in a stern voice, pulling you back to him. “I… I want you forever. Why would I take any of this— of us back?” He asks as if you’ve offended him, his eyes darting between yours as he speaks. He’s talking as if you had thought so little of him as to think he wasn’t in the relationship a thousand percent. That you weren’t the best thing in his life and he’d do everything to not lose you.

“I dunno,” You shrug, letting go of him but he grabs your hands to stop you from moving. “What if you want someone else one day? Someone who can’t hear the fact that your heart is racing and your blood is rushing? Or the fact that Batman is trying to reach you right now.” From several streets over, you can hear Bruce speaking into his comm trying to reach Damian. He’s asking Barbara why he isn’t responding, worried for his son.

“I will never want someone else.” He promises, squeezing your hand and clicks his earpiece to turn it back on.

“Yes, father?” He takes a step away but doesn’t let go of your hand.

“Robin, where have you been? We’ve been trying to reach you for ten minutes” You hear Bruce tell him, worry lacing his voice.

“Sorry, father. I accidentally turned it off.” Damian gives you a look that screams not to laugh.

“There’s a robbery close to you, it’s just Catwoman,” Bruce explains and Damian sighs, saying he’s going on it. Better than to have his father go and have sex on the roof again.

He still couldn't get the picture out of his head when the gossip pages found them one day. He almost moved out after that.

“Call me,” You smile as you begin to hover above the roof. “I still gotta explain the project to you.”

“Yknow, this could go by faster if you helped.” He offers and you laugh.

“Is Robin asking me for help?” He scoffs and lets go of your hand before walking to the edge of the roof. You watch him, already knowing your answer to his request but you wanted to see how long it would take him to say something.

“Let’s go!” He calls and you grin, flying over to him and he lets you scoop him up before heading over to the bank.

—

A week comes and goes, you’d finished your presentation the same day you had told Damian about it. Clark and Bruce insisted on getting it done as quickly as possible— you’d just take any excuse to spend the night in a fucking manor.

“Good morning!” Mrs. Elton smiles as the final bell rings. “I’m so glad some of you signed up to give your presentations, uhh—“ She looks at a notepad on her desk, reading over the names. “Today we have (Y/n), Rebecca, Julie, and Jesus!” A little confused, you try and think if there’s another (Y/n) in your class. But you’re the only one in the entire grade. And you sure as hell did not sign up.

“You signed up?” Amira whispers and you shake your head.

“I absolutely did not!” You whisper back, pulling your phone from your bag to text Damian. God, it would probably take him at least half an hour to get from Gotham to Metropolis. But as you open your phone, you realize there wasn’t a mixup with the volunteers.

I’m in the office, about to head up.

The text had been sent two minutes ago, and when you look up you can see him at the door. He sees you see him and ducks out of view before anyone else can. You should’ve listened harder, you could’ve spotted his heartbeat sooner.

“Oh, you’re doing a buddy presentation?” Mrs. Elton says as she looks over your slides. You nod, your heart hammering in your chest. “Are they here?” Again, you nod and she smiles. “Excellent! Bring them in!” Standing up, you head to the door and step outside.

“One second, Ms!” You say before the door closes. Damian is leaning against the wall opposite to the room. He’s dressed a little fancier than he normally is, a turtleneck and slacks. But he’s wearing a pair of thick, black boots. Are those yours..?

“You asshole!” You whisper, ignoring the boot situation and he looks at you, faking a confused look. “I’m shitting myself, dude! Oh my god!” You rush over to him, running your hands over your face as you talk.

“Habibi,” He places a hand on your shoulder. “You’ll do fine, it’s nothing compared to fighting Lex, right?” Sighing, you nod and calm yourself. You’d given speeches to entire countries before, this is a walk in the park comparatively. “Good, now let’s go.” He turns you around to face the door and for some reason, talking to the President was easier than walking into that classroom.

Nope. Not fine.

But he guides you back into the classroom and you stand at the open door.

“Come on in!” Mrs. Elton encouraged you with a smile and a gentle wave to usher you over. Licking your lips, you head inside and Damian steps in after you. Immediately there are murmurs throughout the room and several eyes land on him. Mariam gasps and slaps Rebecca’s arm. She’s been on her phone, mostly uninterested for the most part but when she looks up her eyes go wide.

“You may start,” Mrs. Elton hands you a remote that lets you control the slides and you thank her, fiddling with the remote as you and Damian stand off to the side of the screen.

“My best friend is Damian,” You start, trying to shake off the feeling of absolute dread over you. Not that it works. “Um… I met him what— two, three years ago?” Time is hard for you, times blend together and merge, sometimes stretching to points where they couldn’t have possibly happened. But Kara thinks it’s the lingering effects of the Phantom Zone.

“Four,” He corrects and looks over at you. “I was there when you arrived.” That’s right, you’d forgotten when you crashed into Earth. Bruce and Damian had gone with Clark when the Watchtower got a reading of a spaceship entering Earth's orbit. You’d crashed into the middle of the Atlantic Ocean and almost sunk to the bottom of the sea.

You nod, looking back to the class. “Four years ago, when I was adopted, I met him. I think he hated me back then, though.” You chuckle, pressing the slide to pictures you have where the then fourteen-year-old Damian was either attacking you or clearly yelling. In all of the pictures, you’re unbothered or confused, still learning the language. “Can’t imagine why, probably because I’m black.”

“It’s because you kept breaking my stuff,” He corrects quickly. “I went through five phones, six doors, and I think twenty windows that first month.” He lists and you want to defend yourself, imagine suddenly being so strong that a simple nudge could send walls toppling down but you can’t say that.

“Don’t remember that,” Shaking your head, you click to the next slide and look at it. You’d forgotten all about that trip.

“This was when my father took the Kent’s on vacation to The Netherlands,” Damian says, looking at the picture of you looking out of the plane window. You look unamused and you remember saying I can see this all the time, why would I get the window seat? And you ended up switching seats with Jon. Another picture is of you and Damian sitting on the windowsill of the hotel, it’s nighttime and you’re both watching the stars.

You remembered talking to him about your home and he’d talked to you about his.

Another picture is Damian, Jon, and you at a creek. You and Jon are knee-deep in the water but Damian is sitting on a tire swing, clearly disgusted about the idea. He’s yelled about bugs, parasites, and fish pee infecting the water. Jon wanted to throw him in, but you talked him down.

“We spent a week there,” You explain, looking back at the class. “I think that’s when we actually became friends.” He agrees, giving a small nod and you click to the next slide. It’s a video, and from the thumbnail, it’s set around Christmastime.

You’re in the woods, wearing a jacket Lois had gifted you; Damian is holding the phone from what you remember.

“Don’t do anything stupid,” Damian’s voice is the first thing you hear as the video starts. It’s different from his voice now and you wonder when the change happened.

“I’m good!” You dismiss and pick up your pace when you see the thing you’ve been looking for. It’s a little embarrassing hearing your voice, especially how you sounded back then. But it’s still a fond memory.

In the middle of the forest was a lake, and it had frozen over. Clark had wanted to give it a couple of weeks to get to a proper thickness and you felt you’d waited long enough. It had been four weeks already, and you heard Alaska got pretty cold.

“Do not,” Damian warns as you hold onto a tree, lowering yourself onto the ice. “(Y/n)!” He sets the phone down on a fallen tree and goes into view of the camera, following after you. But his point was to get as close to you as possible without getting onto the ice.

“I’m fine, Damian!” You wave him off, putting a foot onto the ice. “It’s slippery!” You gasp, putting your other foot, and struggle to find your balance for a good second.

“It’s ice.” He reminds, still holding his hand out. “Now, c’mon! That’s dangerous, even for you.” Looking at him, you hold your hands on your hips and grin. Your balance is much better now that you’ve gotten your bearings.

“Nothing bad ever happens to me!” You declare and take a shaky step further into the lake. It’s more difficult than just standing and you’re tempted to just cheat by flying a little bit.

“You’re an orphan for a reason,” He sighs and you loudly boo at him. You must’ve booed him for a good five seconds, both your thumbs pointed down and he rolls his eyes.

“One bad thing happened to me!” Taking another step, you almost fall and he lunges to grab you but you’re able to remain upright.

“See,” You look at him and he shakes his head, carefully inspecting the ice. His body language changes when he does and he takes a mini step closer, holding his hand out with a sense of urgency.

“Off the ice, now.” He demands and you look down. You can hear the cracks forming and there are white lines starting to appear. But you’d assumed the noises had been from the woods. “(Y/n),” Looking up at him, you grab his hand and he pulls you towards him.

The ice lets out a sharp crack and you remember watching the ice fall into the water as the two of you fell back into the snow, your heart swelling with some feeling. It wasn’t even the fact that you’d almost fallen, you were more than sure you would’ve been a-okay; it was the fact that he had cared that much about your safety.

“I could’ve flown,” You whisper, looking at the spot you’d been standing at. The video doesn’t pick it up, but you remember what happened. How the two of you had fallen back and he held you tightly until that point.

“Doesn’t mean you can be so reckless,” He says, standing up before pulling you up. “Let’s head back to the cabin, be glad Lois isn’t here to scold you.” He picks the camera up as he speaks and you roll your eyes.

“I’m sure you’re gonna tell her either way.” The video ends and you look towards your classmates again.

“That’s an example of why I’m the best,” You announce, faking being serious. “But in my defense, it was my second winter ever and I was very excited.” Back home, the weather was just… not cold. At least where you lived.

“And stupid,” Damian mutters and you nudge him, hiding your grin. He nudges you back and you’re about to start a stupid nudging war when Mrs. Elton clears her throat.

“When was this?” Mrs. Elton asks, motioning to the video.

“Two years ago,” You answer, looking back to the video that’s stuck on a still of Damian and you walking up, a cheesy grin on your face while he’s less than impressed. “Clark and Lois rented out a cabin in Alaska, I invited Damian. We spent the weekend there and he never did tell Lois about the incident.” But Clark surely did hear, so when you returned there was some discussion about safety and caution.

“That same day, (Y/n) decided it would be a good idea to try and befriend a wild bear,” Damian says and you scoff, going to the next slide.

“Me and Jerry did become friends,” You grumble.

“This is for my birthday last year,” Damian says as he looks at the picture that’s in an apartment Bruce rented so Damian could have a small party with just his friends. He saw Billy, Cassie, Bart, Wally, Jackson, Nika, Jon, Courtney (who he didn’t really know, she was more your friend since he had no interest in Stargirl), Jaime, and you standing around a table with him in the center. There’s a birthday cake but most of it is hidden by the several bodies in front of it.

He has a ridiculous paper party hat on and there’s some frosting on his nose. He looks less than amused but you remember he put up no protest to any of the things that happened that night. Although Wally said it’s because it was you doing it and had it been anyone else, they would’ve lost an arm.

And he agreed!

There’s a green Happy Birthday balloon banner behind him and in a different picture, it’s the two of you standing in front of it. You’re both holding sparklers, which was incredibly dangerous according to basically everyone else. But it’s an apartment filled with teen superheroes, a little sparkler was not going to be the thing that caused damage.

“It was a group sleepover,” You announce, staring at the picture Jaime had taken of everyone sleeping on the large couch. There are several blankets over people so no one’s really huddled together for warmth until you see you and Damian in the corner of the couch.

You’re still awake, on your phone but Damian is knocked the fuck out, his head is on your shoulder and if you squint, you can see his legs wrapped in yours under the cover. Your arm is around him, keeping him from rolling onto someone who’s sleeping close by.

“I didn’t think you’d put that one,” You whisper, admiring the picture. When making the presentation, Damian had suggested that you each get ‘secret slides’ and the others were not allowed to look until the day off. Your slide was the ice video.

“Nika considers it a soft launch, whatever that means.” He grins and you smile.

There’s another picture, but it’s a picture of a picture. Taken on those handheld cameras that were really popular in the early 2000s. It’s of you, Damian, and Nika. The three of you are in the kitchen, sitting on the kitchen island with Damian in the middle.

You’re eating cake, surprised that someone was going around taking pictures while Nika is blowing a kiss to the camera and Damian is actually smiling for the picture.

There’s a picture right next to it where you’re actually posed. Your back is to Damian and Nika copies as the two of you fake holding guns, acting as his bodyguards. He’s playfully rolling his eyes, and there’s a wider grin on his face in that picture. It was actually your screen saver.

Honestly, when you first met Flatline, you were kinda upset. She did kinda kill him and then they became best friends? It was confusing as all hell but whatever, you warmed up to her and she was actually really cool.

“The cake was super good,” You note as you press the next slide. It’s another video, and it’s still from the birthday party. “I don’t remember this,” You admit, looking at the thumbnail. It’s when he’s being sung Happy Birthday.

“I do,” He smirks as the video plays. You could hear his heartbeat pick up a little bit and you’d have to admit you’re a little worried about the video.

“-irthday to you, happy birthday to you! Make a wish!” Everyone says and Damian takes a second. His thinking face only appears for a second before he closes his eyes and blows out his candles. They go out and everyone cheers as he stands up tall.

“Try the cake!” Nika shouts from the back.

“Come, aynii,” He tells you and you emerge from the small crowd as he wipes frosting onto his finger. You remember this exact moment and you blink, a slow and long blink as you smile. Damian notices and his heart picks up even more. He tries his best to look composed but Jon can see you unraveling in that moment.

The class watches as he wipes the frosting onto your lips quickly enough that you don’t have time to react before he kisses you.

And it’s an absolute riot when he does. Cheers and shouts take over the room. The kiss doesn’t last long as in the video, the people in the video are also cheering and you pull away, clearly flustered with so many people watching. He presses a quick final kiss to your lips and then licks his, fake-tasting the frosting while you wipe the frosting from your nose.

“Tastes lovely,” Damian tells Nika as the video ends. It ends with you turning away from the camera and Damian pulling you closer to the table and him.

“It was vanilla flavor,” Damian tells the class as they settle down. “That’s the last of the pictures,” The ten-minute requirement isn’t up yet, you have about two minutes left so your teacher suggests answering some people’s questions and you just know they are not going to be about anything other than the video.

“How long have you been dating?” Mariam asks.

“Two and a half years,” Damian answers without hesitation, his hand slipping into yours. You feel his pulse settling down against your skin and run your thumb across the small, barely visible scars littering the back of his hand.

So much for a soft launch.

—

It turns out that the student was not live, but he did in fact post the video online. Very publicly, as it was viral absolutely everywhere. It even reached Worldstar, which you thought died out several years ago. You’d seen it across all your feeds, you’d been tagged a bunch and even sent it directly. News outlets have even contacted you and there've been some vague threats for your life, but nothing you haven’t seen before. It’s just a headache seeing so many new messages you end up making entirely new accounts and setting them to private.

Clark and Bruce had both sat the two of you down when they saw it— which was immediately after it was posted. Seeing as one of them is a high-profile billionaire and the other is a high-profile reporter married to another high-profile reporter and journalist. There was an extremely long talk about… relationship stuff, and it was a little awkward when Bruce asked about some private information. Damian shut it down, though. Giving vague but concise answers to their questions while you tried to bury yourself on the couch.

They ended with basically; you’re both 18, so you’re old enough, blah blah blah, wrap it and tap it, blah blah blah, at least there won’t be pregnancy scares, blah blah blah, no more sleepovers.

That part wasn’t going to be in place for long, though.

All in all, the worst part to come out of the situation thus far was the sudden attention on your back.

People in school suddenly knew your name and while no one was acting strange, it was weird that people would suddenly be nicer to you. But at least no one was homophobic, that was something you were not going to complain about.

“So,” Rebecca and her group of friends swipe the seats around you as you’re finishing up some of your work during gym class. “Damian Wayne?” She grins, sitting next in front of you.

“That is my boyfriend.” You hum, slowly closing your laptop.

“Good!” She grins. “Because we used to go to school together and I’ve never seen him so happy before! Everyone called— fuck it, probably still calls him Arab Psycho.” She imitates his public resting face, albeit very poorly and you think for a second. It’s that human movie. Tim talks about it.

“American Psycho but he’s Arab…” You ask and she nods.

“Always felt racist but those rich white fuckers didn’t care.” She explains and you hum.

“You’re sweet,” She says. “Has he asked you to the winter dance yet?” Rebecca grins, her nails tapping against the glossy floor. “Oh my god! You two would totally be Winter formal royalty!”

“I’m not going.” She frowns and her friends make awww sounds. It’s kinda hard to explain you’re gonna spend the night as Rao, making sure kids don’t try and blow up your school. Not to mention the fact that you really did want to go, but shit happens and you’ve been to every other school dance. And there’s still prom. “But he did ask.”

“You’re stronger than me.” Kirara shakes her head. “What’s your Instagram, by the way?”

—

The day of the dance rolls around and you’re stuck with Damian on the roof of the building across from the school. Forced to listen to the music and watch people dance with their dates, just waiting and watching. He notices, of course. But he doesn’t know what to say, or what to do. He’s always avoided school dances, they felt trivial, beneath him. But you enjoyed the American school traditions like those.

He remembers whenever you’d hang out at the manor you’d insist on watching some high school movie, especially if they had dances. Apparently, they weren’t a big deal back home.

You can’t move from the roof until you’re sure there’s no bomb. Your super-vision didn’t show anything and you scouted the place the two kids talked about but nothing. Jack shit popped up. But the two kids aren’t home, so there’s a chance they might show up and do it later. A mix of Carrie and Heathers, you suppose.

It’s about midway through the dance that something happens. You recognize their dingy car— think a rusted car that is literally duct-taped together and one wind gust from breaking apart. The two of you slink into the shadows and you watch as they open the trunk, grabbing the bomb.

“At least this wasn’t for nothing,” You mutter and fly down, landing about four paces behind them. Robin lands in front of the car, his arms crossed and head tilted up.

“Planning something?” You ask and they spin around, the taller one slams the trunk shut while the shorter one stuffs something into his jacket pocket.

“Just a dance…” Short laughs, tucking his arms under his chest.

“And a bomb?” Robin asks and they spin around to see him. And it’s like the absolute life had drained out of them when they realized they had two vigilantes on them. One with a sword and the other with fucking heat vision.

“We’re sorry!” Tall shouted, getting on his knees, and his hands were in the air within seconds.

“Dude…” Short grumbles and removes the poorly made bomb from his shirt and places it on the ground before getting on his knees. “Fucking pussy.” He glares at his friends while Robin calls for the cops to pick the two up.

You pick up the bomb, looking it over. It’s about the size of a football and fairly heavy. But the intent was clearly there, you doubt it would’ve worked. They didn’t connect the wires properly. Seems they must’ve missed a step in their plans.

The cops arrive soon after along with the bomb squad. They say the bomb is safe and the two kids get locked up. Before, they used to hound for you to go back to the station to make a statement but they know you’ll show up soon and leave with a quick thank you.

“Cops in Gotham never thank us,” Robin huffs, watching them drive off.

“We’re nice here,” You shrug, looking at the school. “Wanna go to the Titans?” He looks at you and your barely hidden frown and then at the school. He’s sure his dignity isn’t as fragile as it seems because the decision isn’t a hard one to make.

“We could go inside.” The frown turns into a smile and you rush inside, your cape bellowing with how fast you move. He rolls your eyes but follows you towards the music.

Of course, the two of you cause a stir in the gym as everyone sees Rao and Robin at their shitty high school dance, slow dancing to the cheesy song playing but that’s perfectly fine. Everyone sorta returns to their own devices when they remember you’re two teenagers who probably just want to experience a dance.

“Thank you.” You whisper to him as the night wraps up. Mariam and some dude who wasn’t her date were voted as the Winter Formal Royalty, despite them trying to give the crowns to the two of you. “This was fun. Very human.” You laugh at the last part, watching as kids get into their parent's car and head on home. You see Jon is waiting for Clark with Jay, he has a strict rule of not interacting with you when one of you is out of uniform. Something about being a horrible liar.

“It was my pleasure seeing you smile.” He says, settling on the railing of the steps. “I’m just sorry you couldn’t enjoy it normally.” He adds, his eyes flickering to the large S symbol on your chest and then to your masked face.

“Please,” You huff, sitting next to him. “We stopped a bomb. It was a… bad bomb, but still.”

“You’re still here!” Mariam gasps when she sees the two of you. She has her heels in one hand and her phone in the other so her date holds the door open for her. “Good! Here—here, take it!” She hands you her crown and the other crown. Apparently the king didn’t care for it and gave it to her. “Don’t say no, either.” She shakes the crowns for you to take and you laugh, grabbing the king's crown while Damian takes the queen.

“Okay, thank you.” The plastic crowns are but paper to you, so you take extra care not to break it.

“Put it on!” She urges, taking some steps back, and points her camera to the two of you. Robin looks at you and takes your crown from you, setting the crown on your head before putting his own. “Y’all are too cute!” She gushes and takes about ten pictures. You’re posing, of course, about three different poses and she’s hyping the two of you up beyond belief.

“I’ll send these to you, bye-bye!” She shouts, running down the stairs while her boyfriend gets in the car.

“Bye-bye!” You call back.

“Clarks here,” Robin nudges your hand and you see Jon get into the car.

“Break has officially started!” Someone shouts from the parking lot. “See yall mother fuckers next year!” You laugh, and float up, pulling Robin up with you. He latches on immediately, looking at you as you shoot into the air and over to Gotham. He’s a little more careful to make sure your crowns stay on than you are and he promises to keep it safe in Gotham. That honestly sounded like an oxymoron.

“What’re you doing for Christmas?” He asks as you take your masks off in the Batcave.

“Mrs. Kent invited us to the farm,” Throwing yourself into the chair, Damian sits on the table while taking his gloves off. “We’ll probably be there for the entire weekend. Unless there’s some emergency. You?”

“We typically do a small gift exchange and not much else.” He shrugs.

“Y'know…” You trail, pushing the chair closer to him. “Martha has been wanting to meet you.”

“She’s met me.” He says, fixing your hair into something that doesn’t make it obvious you had just been flying around.

“Yeah, but not as her grandson’s boyfriend.” He cups your face as you speak, staring at you with this soft gaze that makes you like putty in his hands.

“He’ll go,” Bruce says as he enters the cave. Damian grumbles and drops his hands to his side while you spin around to see him. He’s not in his Batman gear, though. Just his nightwear. “Clark invited all of us yesterday.”

“Fun!” You turn to Damian who’s not too happy about the fact he still has the spend the holiday with his siblings.

“My siblings are going to cause your grandmother to have a heart attack. I’d advise you to fool-proof the house.” He warns you, getting off of the computer and pulling you up from the chair.

“It’s Kryptonian proof. They can’t do much damage,” You call him a name he’s heard a bunch. It’s this word in Kryptonian but you won’t tell him what it means and he doesn’t know the language enough to piece it together. But he likes it. It just feels right.

“That’s what you think.”

But despite his warnings and swearing up and down about his family ruining the day, Christmas went smoothly. Save for the embarrassment of introducing your boyfriend to your family and such, of course. The gifts were wonderful, but what you loved the most was Damian’s recreation of your home, you hadn’t thought he’d remembered so much detail from when you talked about it but he was spot on. You’d gotten him a special sword, made of alien metal and carefully carved with his initials. He said it was too good to use, that something of that marksmanship should never see bloodshed. But his eyes sparkled when you pulled out a set of new charcoal and paints for him.

He spent the rest of the night drawing.

With Christmas wrapped up, the time for the New Year’s party rolled around. Of course, Bruce had formally invited the Kents to the gala that was being hosted at some fancy building in Gotham. You’d been all but attacked by Dick to get a matching suit with Damian. Not that you minded, of course.

“Your first public appearance as a couple, congrats.” Duke grins as he sees you standing next to Damian, the two of you fixing the final details of your suits. You peer up from your cufflinks and see he’s in a fancy yellow suit. He paired it with a soft blush pink undershirt and silver jewelry.

“Thanks,” You smile and check your sleeves. Still nicely pressed and the cuffs shine against the silky brown suit.

“Nervous?” He asks, stepping into the room as Damian hands you the dahlia brooch the two of you were going to wear. Damian knew more about flower symbolism than you, but you just knew the flower meant something about the two of you that he wholeheartedly agreed with.

“Far from it,” Damian responds, pinning his own brooch to his suit. He makes it look so damn easy, but that’s probably because he doesn’t need to worry about breaking the brooch. “Yellow clearly suits you.” He tells Duke who in turn, compliments Damian’s suit.

“Oh, you two did henna?” Duke asks, seeing your deep orange-stained hands. He’s too far away to see the exact details, but he knows henna when he sees it.

“His idea,” You grin, looking at the designs on your hands. “We still have to find our initials, though.” Your eyes flicker to where Amira’s mother had hidden the letter D on your hand.

“In private.” Damian adds, his hand finding reprise in your own. He doesn’t need to look at Duke for him to understand that Damian is telling him to leave and close the door. The clicks closed as he guides you to his bed. The two of you sit together and he looks first.

“These designs are lovely,” He utters, his fingers ghosting over your skin as if you were a delicate artifact he was trying so desperately to keep safe. There were a lot of small details, hardly any of your skin was showing and it just looked like a lace you’d wrapped around your hand. His eyes flicker from left to right, as if he’s reading words in a book trying to find the letter D somewhere in the henna.

He’s far from frustrated, though. He absolutely loves that you’d agreed to do this and even more so that you clearly didn’t half-ass in getting it done. You’d even let the henna sit for two hours extra, just in case your genes made the stain fade faster.

“Here,” He points to one of the curves along a flower, his finger tracing over the hidden D.

“That was fast,” You look up at him and he just can’t look away from your hand. You call him, using another Kryptonian pet name and he looks at you.

“I’m perceptive.” He hands you his hands and you gently take them.

You suppose you’re cheating, but your eyes are naturally gifted and you can zoom in. Even so, it does take you longer than him. You’re looking between his hands, almost stressing about finding out.

“There,” You point to your initial resting on his ring finger, right above the second knuckle. He smiles and nods and you pat yourself on the back. And then he says something— something that’s surely a promise. He says it in a way that’s clear he’s thought about it for so long that nothing is to change his mind about it and you stare at him with wide eyes and an even wider smile.

“It’ll be harder to find when we get married.”

—

The gala is nice. The two of you arrived after your families just two hours before midnight, hand in hand. Perhaps it was on purpose, but you’re holding the hand that has your initial and he’s holding the hand that has his. Maybe that’s his way of keeping it between the two of you; intimate.

There are a lot of people, as is expected with galas. A lot of rich old people, a bunch of shitty reporters trying to kiss ass to Clark and Lois, and their older children. No one under sixteen is ever allowed to gala’s, a rule that came into place when Jason was taken under Bruce’s wing. You were surprised to hear the rule wasn’t because of Dick, but apparently Dick didn’t attend enough gala’s for the rule to be needed.

It’s your first gala seeing you’ve always declined the offers to go but there wasn’t room to say no in this situation. But it’s calm. You were more nervous about your presentation than about this. You and Damian mingle together for around an hour and a half before you see Kara at the snack table and excuse yourself.

You’re talking to Kara about school and she’s talking to you about her job. It just sounds like a bunch of human adult stuff you’re probably going to have to do in five years and honestly? That sounds like hell. But she makes it sound fun.

“Mother.” Damian says from across the room. Your head snaps over to where he is and you see her. Holy shit. You should run. “What’re you doing here?” His head turns to find you in the crowd but you see that Thalia is already looking directly at you. At least she’s smiling, that’s good… right?

“His mothers here?” Kara whispers, having heard that too. She’s been big on meeting the woman who raised him, apparently hearing how Bruce and Damian talk about her isn’t enough for her never-ending curiosity.

“I’m gonna piss my pants!” You gasp, looking at her. “Oh my god, she’s gonna kill me. i— Kara!” Your eyes widen as she tugs you after her. She barely weaves past people and you have to awkwardly apologize to them and let this crazy woman drag you over to your boyfriend and his assassin mother.

“Hello, Ms. Al Ghul.” You gulp as Kara makes you stand between her and Damian.

“Ah, so this is your partner.” Thalia looks at her son and then at you. He’s not upset, but he’s cautious. He’s purposefully slowing his heart rate and you hear the subtle sounds of his joints moving. He’s ready to take you and run.

“Yes, this is my significant other, (Y/n).” He introduces you with a hand on your back. “And his aunt, Kara.”

“I’ve heard a lot about the boy who my son has fallen in love with.” She bluntly says and you don’t know if you should smile or hide. Neither of you has actually said the L word before.

“Mother…” He whispers and she tsks.

“What does he call you?” She asks you, ignoring her son's plea to stop taking.

“Uh…” You trail. “He says: ya albi; habibi, hobbi, and ya hayati. There’s some more but I can’t remember…” When you say them, she takes a deep breath in and turns to her son. He’s a little red but not from anger.

“And do you know what they mean?” She asks, her eyes flicker to you.

“No, ma’am.” You answer honestly and she grins. That’s where he gets it, oh my god.

“He’s professing his love for you. My love, my darling, love of my heart, and my life.” She explains.

“You call him the same things!” Kara points out, slapping your arm and Damian looks over, the embarrassment off of his face and now he’s confused.

“Kara…!” Your eyes widen as it’s your turn to be embarrassed.

“He calls you…” She waits for Damian to tell her the pet names and now you’re embarrassed that he’s repeating them. She doesn’t hide her excitement or her expressions like Thalia had and openly gushes. “The first one is: my only love. Then he says: my life and my reason.”

“Your reason?” He asks and you turn your face from him. If you weren’t surrounded by people, you would’ve flown away.

“Where we’re from, to have someone as your reason is the highest form of love. You’re living for someone, you’re devoting your life to them and their happiness.” You carefully explain and Kara nods, a hand over her heart as she gushes again.

“Let’s leave the boys to their devices and chat,” Thalia smiles at Kara who nods and loops her arms with the literal assassin.

“So…” You trail but the lights turn off and you hear the countdown start from one of the speakers around the room. Geeze, the night had gotten away from you.

“Shall we?” He asks, stepping in front of you. New Year's kiss. Okay, holy shit. This is. Okay, you got this. You hear them say three and you get ready, cupping his face in your hands. You figure this is the best time to say it. Hell, you both have practically been saying it for years now. Just now it’ll be in a language you both understand.

“I love you.” You whisper as everyone shouts Happy New Year around the two of you.

Kissing him, he holds you close and you’re sure you’re about ten seconds into the new year before he pulls back from the kiss.

“I love you, too.”

#x male reader #x reader #damian wayne x male reader #damian wayne x reader #damian wayne x you #damian wayne x black reader #x black reader

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veryinnovative · 4 months

Text

@jegulus-microfic | march 1, prompt: rugby | word count: 1.080 featuring motion-sick regulus. this is mostly comical / partly crack. tw he does throw up but there's no graphic detail.

Exploiting what Regulus assumes to be the surviving remnants of a bewitched bloodline, James had, at long last, managed to magically convince the notorious ‘Young Sir Black’, as Horace would have it, to join him on a three-hour-long drive to the ancestral Potter manor to informally meet his parents.

Informally indeed because the first time he met Mr. and Mrs. Potter was during a fundraiser event held in Somerset House organized by the Black family to launder money under the guise of charitable benevolence. Regulus had been sixteen then. Sixteen and trying to mask the lingering scent of weed because somehow Barty had convinced him to ‘smoke a quick one’ before being subjected to the horror that was the annually rehearsed speech of one of his phony relatives. Not that Regulus remembered much of it, not when he had been too laser-focused on James Potter’s brilliant smile and his rugby-appropriate wide shoulders and height.

And it’s not that Regulus isn’t excited to meet James’ parents, not at all. Euphemia often demands Regulus show his face when James takes the time to video call her and Fleamont is very invested in the growing rare enamel pin collection he has going on.

The reason for his uneasiness is simply—

“Hey, Reg, you okay?” James asks, gently nudging him in his side. Emphasis on gently.

“Mhm,” Regulus hums, his gaze glued to the window instead of its usual hyperfixation: his boyfriend’s face. He had read, long ago, that finding a fixed point would help. The writer of the article fucking lied.

The problem is that Regulus gets motion sick very fucking easily and avoids cars, busses, and a majority of moving vehicles like the bubonic plague.

“Fifty years I have driven the Fleamont junior’s family. For fifty years!” Horace had proudly announced when Regulus clambered into the backseat with begrudging acquiescence. “You worry not, Young Sir Black. Mrs. Potter was as squeamish as you, but my driving simply cured her motion sickness!”

Regulus didn’t have the heart to tell him that he barely survived a bus ride of thirty minutes on a good day.

“Yeah,” Regulus rasps when James pokes him again, worry creasing the skin between his eyebrows. “No, I’m fine.” The lane switches got him good, but that would be an insult to Horace’s otherwise seamless driving skills. Curse Regulus for being so sensitive to it all.

“We got like another hour and a half left,” James tells him, to which Regulus tries not to groan like a toddler on the verge of a tantrum. “You need a break?”

Regulus definitely needs a break, but they have already stopped at a gas station three times and he is out of excuses that won’t inevitably upset Horace. First, James had to go to the bathroom. Then, Regulus needed to use the loo. The third time, he had lied through his teeth he’d fancy a snack, and no, not the ones that Horace had stockpiled in the little mini-fridge nestled between seats.

The overpriced pack of mini Party Rings rests unopened in his hands. Unopened because he will die if he so much as gets a whiff of food.

This discomfort, of course, doesn’t elude Horace.

“It’s—It’s the sun!” He exclaims. “The sun is hanging quite low today, making the asphalt expand so inconveniently like this. Terribly sorry, Young Sir Black, you know how it goes with this country’s tax money and road improvements…”

Regulus hums in response and lets his head fall back against the headrest. “Sorry, James. You were saying?”

“Just about the evening’s plans but never mind that. Are you okay?”

“Young Sir Black is mighty fine,” Horace replies in his stead. “No such thing as motion sickness exists when it is I who drives, sir Junior.”

Horace remains faithful to his promise for a whole whopping three minutes until a twist in the road intervenes, and Regulus's stomach lurches, betraying his efforts to quell the rising nausea after a record time of suppression.

“James,” Regulus groans.

James looks thoroughly alarmed and starts shifting in place looking for the bag he had been entrusted with. “Oh, shit. Bag? Fuck, do you—”

Unfortunately, he jostles Regulus in the process. Regulus, who has been fighting for his life.

“James,” he wheezes out, weakly flailing his arm. “The bag—I—”

“I’m looking for it! Fuck, which pocket did I put it in—”

“Is everything alright back there?!” Horace asks, his eyes wide in the rearview mirror. “Oh, oh no…”

Ignoring the loud lamenting of his driver, James almost flings the plastic bag in Regulus’ face. “I found it!”

“That is it then,” Horace whispers. “I take this as my sign to officially resign upon dropping you and Young Sir Black off, sir Fleamont junior. It has been my greatest honor to serve you and the Potter family for fifty years.”

“Horace, please.”

“It is the age, is it not? This vocation, it’s knighthood, sir Fleamont junior. One does not retire so easily—”

All else is drowned out by Regulus painfully emptying his stomach with a retch. Had this not happened before, shame would have flooded him in the multitudes. He still wonders how James had convinced both himself and Regulus to admit to a long car ride. Something something about the pastures being a healing balm…

“Horace,” James pleads again as he rubs circles on Regulus’ back. “I can only really comfort one of you. Baby, you okay? That— okay, no you’re not. Please stop kicking me in the shin, I will apologize profusely when you can breathe.”

There are tears welling up in Horace’s eyes. “Oh, now I’ve done it, made Young Sir Black sick. I am a failure, I do not deserve the title and honor of driving you or your parents. I must hand over the keys the very instant I arrive. Do allow me the opportunity to part from her, sir Fleamont junior.”

Regulus thinks he’s going to lose his mind. James might be on the verge of losing his too. “Horace, please, I need your eyes on the road.”

“I could drive this car blind, sir! For fifty years—”

“Please do not drive the car blind.” James sounds utterly exasperated now.

It takes him a solid couple of minutes but Regulus eventually manages to come up for a fresh breath of air and the damp press of a scented baby wipe against his jaw. He lets James coddle him, for now.

“Fuck… You.”

“I deserve that one.”

#jegulus #james potter #regulus black #jegulus fanfiction #marauders #marauders au #jegulus microfic #starchaser #sunseeker #marauders fanfiction #ino microfic tag!#this is SO fucking stupid

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oshlet · 8 months

Text

Wasn't *quite* happy with the initial fairy design so I've been iterating on it a little, this is what I've settled with at the moment, making the Choke launchers and arm lasers more clearly visible, and adding a little asymmetry with the IRST on the nose.

Choke is an abbreviation of Chaff-smoke, and is a vital tool on the battlefield. Normally released via high pressure grenades, Choke is made up of superheated smoke - which baffles visual and infrared sensors - and highly reflective crystal fragments, which do double duty of confusing radar and diffracting most energy beams which pass through. Inside Choke, short-range focused lasers and ballistics are king, but even then, they must be fired with little to no guidance.

#art #scifi #scifiart #mecha #system11

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minustwofingers · 7 months

Text

love is a laserquest p.1

masterlist

pairing: rockstar!ellie williams x reader

request: @thatgiraffefromtlou so kindly included me on a post about writing something inspired by these beautiful edits :) thank you !

summary: after a serious of unfortunate events, columbia grad y/n y/l/n finds herself using her hard-earned journalism degree interviewing vapid stars and writing articles that she's convinced are rotting her mind. ellie williams has just dropped the album of the year and it's all anyone is talking about, but all she wants is to be off the press train. a certain interview with a certain interviewer might change this.

warnings: no cws, but i will say that i don't know anything about this career path so i apologize if i'm totally butchering it!

a/n: see ? see? i promise i haven't forgotten about you guys/this blog/this request. this is admittedly a short installment, but you've all been so good about waiting and i had a little itch to write tonight. hopefully more of this will be posted soon. i hope you enjoy!

tags :) @intrnetdoll @dazedshoon @lovecaraya @pctcr @sariyaflowr @loser-keiji @prettyplant0 @666findgod @sawaagyapong @rystarkov @buzzybuzzsposts @addisonnie @galacticstxrdust @elliesbabygirl @pinkazelma @ariianelle @lu002 @blairfox04 @sparkleswonderland @elliesflower @muthafuckingstargirl @elliewilliamsissubermommyoml @eviestevie-14 @quicksilversg1rl @guacala @crtcrp @overtrred28

wc: 1.8k

enjoy!

“Hi. I’m Y/N.”

You sit and extend your hand, smiling as diplomatically as you can manage to the girl sitting across from you.

She ignores you.

“I said hi,” you repeat.

One painted eyebrow arches the slightest, but she doesn’t look your way.

You grit your teeth. A question list that you’ve meticulously prepared is memorized and tucked away in your mind, but now you’re just furious that you spent so much time preparing for an interview with someone who wouldn’t even look you in the eye.

While you wait for the camera crew to get ready, you sit and observe the room—movie posters behind both you and Lina, bright lights that are already making you sweat shone down from above, and a homey oak wood coffee table between you two to give the air of casualness.

God, you hate this. All you want to do is go home.

“Ready?” a cameraman says from the side.

You send a game smile his way. “Ready.”

“We’re rolling.”

“Hi!” said the girl across from you, suddenly laser-focusing her attention on you with so much bubbly energy that it made you feel like you’d gotten whiplash. “It’s so good to meet you. I’m so glad that we were able to do this.”

“Me too,” you respond, saccharine sweet. “You have no idea how excited we are to have you, Lina! It seems like all anyone wants to talk about nowadays is your role in Ontario.”

The interview’s length is oppressive and mind-numbing. By the time you ask your last question and Lina sends you her last dazzling smile, you’re already on the brink of offing yourself on the camera for all to see.

“And cut,” said someone over your shoulder.

You relax, letting out a long breath. That was the last one for the day. You got to go home now.

But since you were a normal human being, you give Lina one last try to redeem herself.

“It was great having you,” you say in a way that you hope reads as genuine. “Thank you for coming in.”

Lina doesn’t respond—she’s already back on her phone, intent on ignoring you.

The drive home is awful and long and full of LA traffic. It was something you’d never quite forgive your younger self for—not advocating for yourself sooner. If you had, maybe you would’ve already been taking the subway alongside all the other New Yorkers, surrounded by serious people wearing serious clothes and carrying serious things around in their briefcase.

Instead you got the quirkiness of Southern California, all arid air full of cigarette smoke and lost aspirations. When you first came to LA, naive and blithely optimistic about your prospects as a journalist, you thought that living near Hollywood would be exciting, all the energy and dreams like firecrackers to the social scene.

Then you got off the plane and realized it’d all been a lie. There’s no hope in a place like Hollywood. It’s the most hopeless place in the world, knowing that all your servers and Uber drivers and retail employees are all working 3 other jobs to make up their rent as they chase a dream that will never happen.

Because no one ever makes it big. Well—no one really. One year into your life at PopNow! has made you interact with more people who have, you suppose, “made it big”, and each interaction is dependably more absurd than the last. Like Lina. God, you hate Lina.

You reach your apartment right when the sun is kissing the horizon, the royal purple of the night descending upon the sky. That was another thing you missed—the stars. You’d missed them when you were at Columbia, but that was when you knew you went back home to the midwestern countryside. Now you’re stuck in the light-polluted hell of California, and there’s no way to know when you’re going to get out.

You should have turned the job down, you think to yourself as you get ready for bed. The face wash you rub into your skin obediently forms into silky little bubbles. You should have just done whatever you’d had to do to stay in New York, even if it meant being unemployed and living in a broom closet with 3 other people.

But you’re a writer. And you’re getting published, and that’s all that matters.

Or at least that’s what you tell yourself.

The assignment is in your inbox when you wake up the next morning at a prompt 5:30am. As you go about your normal routine, you let the words in the message sink in.

Alyssa’s in the hospital. Emergency appendectomy.

Alyssa’s the most senior writer at PopNow!, regularly netting the juiciest recorded interviews.

…interview today that needs to be completed…

You angrily beat your legs back into scissor kicks as you run through the motions of your favorite apartment-friendly pilates routine. Today was supposed to be your day off.

…musician Ellie Williams…

…2pm…

…great opportunity…

You have no fucking clue who Ellie Williams is. She’s never been mentioned on NPR or the New York Times, the only two news sources you bother to follow, so she can’t be that relevant. Or at least not relevant enough to warrant you losing your one day off. But that’s what it’s like to be working in showbiz. Your days don’t belong to you anymore.

By the time that you’re in the studio, hands folded and question list memorized, you feel like you know all you need to know about Ellie.

She’s got everything you need to be a world-wide sensation. Humble, small-town beginnings? Check. Sympathetic backstory that makes even the most hardened viewer’s heart soften? Check. Conveniently conventionally attractive features, well-placed tattoos, and a certain swagger that seems so natural it has to be somehow hard-coded into her genes? Check, check, and check.

You’ve interviewed hundreds of Ellie Williams. You’re ready for this.

Jan from production sets out glasses of water on the table in front of you, one for you and another poised in front of the empty chair.

“You ready?” she asks, not unkindly. “Don’t be nervous. I know that this might be a bigger one than you’re used to, but there’s a reason why Stephen asked you to fill in for Alyssa. You’ve got this, honey.”

“Thank you,” you say. The smile you send her back is tense, because as much as you hate to admit it, you are nervous. It’s ridiculous how something you don’t even care about for an industry you think is bullshit is capable of getting under your skin, but you’d done very few recorded interviews. When you imagined what kind of hard-hitting journalism you’d be doing back when you were at Columbia, it was nothing like this.

You sit and wait, bouncing your leg and hoping the rest of you looks at ease. The set is as corny and soulless as always, one tall houseplant shoved half-heartedly between the two blue cushioned chairs like an afterthought. There’s a stack of magazines on the coffee table between you two, as if you’d crack open People mid-shot.

You hate your job so much. You always feel so bad thinking this way—there are people out there who would probably actually kill for the chance to be rubbing elbows with the celebrities you did on a regular basis—but whenever you start feeling too guilty, you think of how you ended up here, your dream internship getting whisked away by fucking nepo baby Becca, and then you let yourself be angry again.

A door slams shut, and suddenly you’re all business again.

The first thing you notice about Ellie Williams is that she’s actually very tiny, especially in comparison to the burly camera man that she squeezes by to make her way on set. She’s looking a little preppier than she does on stage, donning a pair of wide-legged black trousers, chunky black docs, and a haphazardly buttoned forest green shirt with the sleeves rolled up just enough for you to see the entirety of her arm tattoo.

“Hi.” You rise from your chair to offer a hand, feel the pressure of her fingers gently gripping yours. “I’m Y/N.”

Ellie blinks. “Uh, hi. I’m Ellie.”

“Is everything alright?”

“I thought Alyssa was going to be interviewing me,” says Ellie. She drops into the chair opposite of you, crossing a leg over the other thigh.

“Emergency appendectomy,” you supply.

The way Ellie reacts makes you regret this immediately.

“Oh,” she says, cringing. “Shit—oh, can I swear in here?”

“We’re not rolling yet,” you say gently.

“That’s, uh, really too bad,” she says. Her tattooed hand reaches up to scrub the back of her neck. “I’m so sorry.”

Now it’s your turn to blink and stare at her blankly. “Um, thanks? I don’t really know her.”

“Right, right.” Ellie lets out a long sigh that you take as an offense. The interview hasn’t even started, and the languid way she reclines back in the chair reads as already bored with you. “So, do we just go ahead and…”

“Yes,” you say, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. “Uh, yeah, we’re ready.”

Brilliant start.

The interview begins in earnest, and for once in your life, you’re actually rattled by this girl, by the way she tilts her head at your questions, tongue running over the flat of her front teeth. She has freckles sprinkled across her nose that didn’t show up in any of the photos you’ve seen of her on stage. The ones where she’s awash in blue light, guitar slung over her shoulder and hair sticking to her forehead. It’s disquieting, honestly, how she could just spring a surprise like that on you.

By some miracle, you manage to get through your list of questions without forgetting anything, but sometimes you stutter on your delivery and have to fight to keep yourself from grimacing. Nothing that she tells you is ground-breaking, nothing you don’t already know. In other interviews, you’re normally able to slip into a sort of conspiratorial voice, prying out information and digging a little deeper than your interviewees intend. But with Ellie, you’re paralyzed, stuck straight to the script that had been sent over to Ellie’s publicist for approval.

Not like you’d get away with anything when it came to Ellie, either. She has bags under her eyes that you can see concealer creasing in. It’ll wash out post-production under the bright studio lights, but up close it’s obvious that she’s not interested in entertaining any bullshit.

When it’s over, you’re sure your face is on fire with how hot your cheeks feel. Ellie looks just as nonplussed as ever.

“It was nice to meet you,” you squeak out.

She takes her time answering you, busy with draining the glass of water Jan had set out in front of you both and, once it’s empty, fiddling with the buttons on her sleeves.

“Likewise,” she says, and then before you can think to say anything else, she’s gone.

#ellie williams x reader #ellie williams x you #ellie williams x oc #ellie williams x y/n #ellie williams imagine #ellie williams self insert

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teenfamedr · 10 months

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Real Skincare Guide

Level 1: breakouts, non-painful, a little scarring

Minimize your skincare routine, all you need is an oil cleanser (if you wear a lot of makeup) than a good foam cleanser, moisturizer, and sunscreen. Repeat the same routine before bed just without the sunscreen.

Wear sunscreen everyday!!!

Always apply more moisturizer than you think you need.

Drink a lot of water (2-3LT)

Get consistent sleep

Take a multi vitamins to balance your hormones. I recommend the One-A-Day Woman’s Vitamins (get a real pill cause the gummies don’t have enough iron)

Work on your stress (breathe work, meditate, journal, yoga, walks, going out with friends, therapy, etc)

Look at what body oils/shampoo/conditioner you are using. Could be your akin reacting poorly to something in there.

Level 2: consistant breakouts, acne, scarring

All the stuff for Level 1 apply.

Minimize your skincare routine and than slowly add back in stuff like hydrochloric acid and retinol. Having an elaborate skincare will just make your skin worse. First, focus on healing your skin barrier.

If you are a teenager, it just might be your hormones/growing pains. It will go away eventually.

Pimple Patches work and are especially good if you are trying to stop touching your face.

Wash your pillow cases every 1-2 weeks.

Try to sleep on your back.

If you pop a pimple than apply an antibiotic ointment.

No point in using anti-aging products if you are under the age of 25. It just won’t do anything for you.

Note that if you take in a lot of nicotine you will breakout. If you smoke and you have bad skin, it probably won’t improve unless you quit or lessen the dosage.

Level 3: painful consistent breakouts/acne/scars, redness, irritability, hurts,

Go see a dermatologist!

Acne is can be a real problem. If your acne is painful seek professional help.

If Accutane is recommended, than I would do it. Based only on the experiences of my friends, I have seen great results after a couple months. There are side effects and it is not for everyone but if a professional says you should than I might consider it.

No topical treatment is going to make those scars go away. You are going to need to laser resurfacing which is like this secret treatment rich people do to clear up their skin. It is expensive but really works. Beauty brands want you to think that the right cream can clear up your skin but if you have bad scarring you are only going to see real results with laser treatments

All of the above recommendations still apply

Your acne does not take away from your beauty or your worth as a human being. Remember that acne is normal and social media is fake.

Product Recommandations:

Disclaimer: Not every product will work for every skin type. Do your research for what will be beat for you!

Korean skincare! It is reliable to buy from yesstyle or Olive young. Don’t buy on amazon. (Japanese skincare is good too)

AESTURA Atobarrier 365 Cream

Ma:nyo Pure Cleansing Oil

Ma:nyo Bifida Biome Conplex Ampoule

Beauty of Joseon (sunscreen, eye cream, and serum)

Round Lab 1025 Dokdo Cleanser and Round Lab Birch Juice Sunscreen

Torriden Serum

KAHI Multi Balm

Anything from The Ordinary

CeraVe Daily Moisturizer

CeraVe SA Face Wash Cleanser

CeraVe Acne Foam Cleanser

CeraVe Resurfacing Retinol Face Serum

La Roche Posay spot treatment and soothing balm

EltaMD sunscreen

Soon Jung brand

Laniege Toner

Royal Honey propolis Essence

Aware Lip and Eye remover

TIRTIR- Centella Foam Cleanser

KAHI wrinkle bounce collagen mist

Real Calendula Toner Hyaluronic Toner Pads

Abeille Royale double R renew and repair serum

Tom Ford Lip Balm

Rovectin activating treatment lotion

LA MER moisturizer

PanOxyl Acne Foaming wash

#beauty #books #fashion #kate moss #lily rose depp #makeup #self love #skincare #tiktok #workout #kpop #korean #beauty tips #skincare tips #moisturizer #product recommendations

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ticklet0d · 3 months

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The Outsiders as Incorrect Quotes (Compilation)

Twobit, takes a sip of milk and gags:

Twobit: Ew, oh god, is this expired?

Twobit, takes another sip of milk:

Ponyboy: How do you know if a romance is good

Sodapop: Well, good romance starts with friendship

Twobit: And bad romance starts with ra ra ah ah ah

Johnny (Age 12): I’m not gonna die from inhaling cigarette smoke, quit worrying

Johnny (Age 16), dies from smoke inhalation:

Johnny: Well, it wasn’t the cigarettes.

Steve: Do you want to play 20 Questions?

Soda: Sure!

Soda: What's your favorite color?

Steve, laser fucking focused: Triangle. Do you love me?

Steve: “This remake ruined my childhood”

Steve: Bitch, my dad ruined my childhood just like god intended

Twobit, just wanted to talk about the Lion King remake:

Dally, on the phone: Hey, it’s Dally

Darry: what did he do this time?

Dally: no, Dar, it’s me Dal

Darry: oh… what did you do this time?

Twobit: Never back down never what!!

Darry, 20, a single mom having a breakdown over ordering at McDonald's: never give up

Twobit: NEVER BACK DOWN NEVER WHAT!

Darry, crying like crazy: NeVeR gIvE uP

*at a zoo*

Ponyboy (Age 7): What are they in for?

Darry( Age 13): Pony, this isn't prison.

Ponyboy: So they can leave?

Darry: No, but-

Sodapop (Age 10) pointing at a meerkat: I bet that one murdered someone.

Darry: Yesterday, I overheard Ponyboy saying “Are you sure this is a good idea?” and Curly replying “Trust me,” and I have never moved from one room to another so quickly in my life

Cherry: Wait, you kissed my boyfriend?

Randy: He wasn't your boyfriend when we kissed. We were fifteen and both confused about our sexuality.

Cherry: What the fuck

Bob: You’re being dramatic, babe

Cherry: How? I’m not being dramatic. Randy kissed you, that’s not fair.

Bob: You can kiss Randy if that’ll shut you up

Randy: Please don’t kiss Randy...

Are you guys proud of me :D

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #twobit mathews #sodapop curtis #steve randle #dallas winston #johnny cade #curly shepard #randy anderson #bob sheldon #cherry valance #incorrect quotes #if this flops i will cry #the outsiders 1983

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laserquit · 2 months

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Quit For Good: Laserquit's Support And Education For Maintaining A Smoke-Free Lifestyle

LaserQuit is revolutionizing smoking cessation in Fort St. John with its cutting-edge laser therapy. Smoking cessation, especially in a community like Fort St. John, is a vital step towards healthier living. With our innovative approach, we aim to make the journey to a smoke-free life easier and more effective than ever before.

We understand the challenges individuals face when trying to quit smoking. Traditional methods often come with side effects and high rates of relapse. That's where our laser smoking cessation therapy steps in. Using advanced laser technology, we target specific points on the body associated with nicotine addiction. This non-invasive procedure stimulates the release of endorphins, helping to reduce cravings and withdrawal symptoms.

What sets us apart is our personalized approach to smoking cessation. We recognize that each individual has unique needs and preferences. That's why our experienced team works closely with clients to develop customized treatment plans tailored to their lifestyle and smoking habits. Whether you're a heavy smoker or have tried to quit multiple times before, we're here to support you every step of the way.

Located in Fort St. John, LaserQuit provides convenient access to modern smoking cessation services. Our comfortable and welcoming clinic environment ensures that clients feel relaxed and at ease during their therapy sessions. With our compassionate staff guiding you through the process, you can feel confident in your journey towards a smoke-free future.

But our commitment to your well-being doesn't stop there. We believe in empowering our clients with the knowledge and tools they need to maintain their smoke-free lifestyle long-term. Through education and ongoing support, we help you build the skills and resilience to overcome any challenges that may arise.

Join the countless individuals who have successfully quit smoking with us. Take the first step towards a healthier, happier life today. Contact us to learn more about our laser smoking cessation services at (250) 571-9879 and visit our website at https://laserquittherapy.ca/ to start your journey toward freedom from nicotine addiction. With LaserQuit by your side, you can finally break free from the grip of smoking and embrace a brighter, smoke-free future.

#Smoking Cessation Fort St. John #Laser To Quit Smoking Fort St. John #Quit Smoking Laser Therapy Fort St. John #Cold Laser For Smoking Cessation Kelowna

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sensationtherapie · 10 months

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#laser treatment to quit smoking in montreal #laser therapy for stress anxiety in montreal #stop marijuana with laser therapy in montreal #laser therapy for weight loss in montreal

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nanomooselet · 5 months

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My Brother's Keeper (II)

As in every version of the story, Vash only plays the fool. He is not one. Oblivious, hapless and harmless are always masks he wears. From beneath them, he susses out what Wolfwood is pretty much immediately.

Not that it was hard. The man's barely trying. And really, three days into the trip to July and a guy carrying a cross from Nai's freaky book suddenly shows up, walks off the trailer slamming into him, tries to separate Vash from the reporters, lectures him about killing to survive, makes just-kidding-or-am-I remarks about being an assassin, then finally reveals he's actually carrying an absurdly overpowered laser-cross-gun before inviting himself along for their quote-unquote "protection". Nevertheless he sticks almost exclusively by Vash, who is by a very, very, very wide margin the least in need of protection among them.

Just in this scene his lighter has the Eye of Michael sigil on it and judging by the heap of butts, after picking tunnels for everyone to search (including one for him) he stayed right where he was and chain-smoked until Vash returned. Not too long afterwards Roberto abruptly and mysteriously vanishes, and Wolfwood tries to convince Vash the reporters must be dead. …Yeah, I guess that counts as subtle for someone who named himself Millions Knives, but c'mon. Knives thinks his stupid brother won't come to his party unless he's dragged there. Vash has a chaperone now whether he wants one or not.

If I were in Vash's situation I'd be quite annoyed. For fuck's sake, he's an adult. He's been one for over a century. He doesn't need a damn babysitter. And what kind of idiot sends an assassin to do that job?

Except... Knives somehow made the perfect choice in Nick.

Wolfwood's cynical rhetoric has no effect whatsoever on Vash's ideals and he's hardly any more effective at keeping Vash safe. Simply because Wolfwood's there, Zazie and Legato between them find excuses to endanger Vash, which is par for the course when Knives tries to "protect" him. No, what makes Wolfwood the best man for the job is something that may well have happened in spite of Knives, and it's this.

Regardless of his real age, at heart Nick is a kind but wounded boy who's only trying to protect his beloved family, especially his crybaby brother. He kills because he doesn't think there's any choice - he's ultimately a victim of indifferent circumstance. In a way, an innocent.

In Wolfwood Knives gave Vash everything Vash wants to believe is true of Knives himself. With all his heart, Vash wants his brother's cruelty and manipulation to be just... just some wildly misguided but sincere attempt to save the Plants, because he doesn't believe there can be any other way - but he'd be open to an alternative. Nai really does love Vash, just like Vash truly does love Nai, and Rem loved them both. His brother can't be a monster.

If he's smart and kind and strong and brave enough, if he can just overcome his fear, Vash is sure that he can help. He'd convince Nai that humanity doesn't have to die, it's just ignorance and crashing on this barren planet that made everyone's hearts so barren while they struggled to survive. They, the twins, can take responsibility for what they did and help Plants and humans to help each other. If they could do it together...

He could love his brother without it being so fucking painful. They could love each other without every encounter they have leaving more helpless people dead, more scars on Vash. From all that he's lost, he could salvage this one thing. He'd be so content with that. He's survived on much less. He ran before, but he'd stay this time, and for good. Neither of them would be alone. They'd have time.

On top of that, Vash needs to help people - it's what keeps him alive, and it makes him happy. Wolfwood needs someone who'll treat him like he's a person rather than a weapon, to remember that he doesn't have to be the Punisher. That's what keeps him alive. There's still a place for him in the world, even for what he's become.

If Vash can convince Wolfwood, his brother's agent, to accept that place... if he can help him... maybe he could do the same for his brother. Just as Luida did for Vash himself.

And Wolfwood does a damn good job playing the part without even knowing that's what he's doing. Well, he knows he's protecting Vash, but all it's in how he does it.

JPN: You only get one life. You have to fight for it, no matter who you hurt in the process. There's no other way to survive.

ENG: You only get one life, y'know? Self-sacrifice might satisfy the ego, but don't throw your life away. Survival's everything.

This is advice you'd get from a brother. If one must die so another can live, I'd rather you live - so make sure of it. Dumbass. (It's also the final request Rem made of the twins: I want you two to survive./Try your very best to survive for me.) Maybe phrased bluntly and a bit abrasive, but not… insane. No weird sermons about crusades and fire from the sky, no verbal abuse or put-downs, no blame, no hurt. What's more, while Wolfwood does try to convince Vash to leave the reporters for dead, when Vash goes back for them Wolfwood bitches all the way but goes with him. He slices open the Grand Worm for them (though I think also to annoy Zazie). And after that, he clinches it by, of all things, trying to get Meryl to eat bugs.

You're not going so survive like that. Come on!/Are any of you freaks interested in survival? Come on! Open wide!

(This is totally irrelevant, but their stupid bickering in the background in the English dub is hilarious. Nick straight up says "I'm helping!" and adds something about how short Meryl is. Meryl starts protesting that she's a "perfectly average-sized woman." I bet they were unbearable in the truck.)

Nai was always dismissive of, if not outright nasty about, Vash enjoying food he doesn't need. Nick gets it. Consuming food gives physical nourishment, and Plants don't need that to survive. But it's also togetherness, shared joy. Those are things both Plants and humans need, so it's not a 'waste'. We're more than merely serving a material purpose or function, even one that's self-declared. Even as Plants.

No matter how heavy a cross you carry, you still deserve to eat. You still deserve to laugh./Heh, no matter how heavy the cross is you carry, you deserve food. And to laugh.

Vash needed to hear that, or something like it. It's the kind of thing Rem used to say, the kind of thing Luida told him. (It's about everyone getting a share.) Meryl, though she cares for him, doesn't yet know how to break through Vash's rumination.

Nick's being a jackass older brother by happenstance, because he's letting down his guard. It's who he really is: kind of a silly kid who cares deeply about people and shows it by goofing off and pushing their buttons until they want to fucking kill him. But Vash would so relieved to have a brother who's just annoying about how much he cares. Who still cares enough to listen to his opinions, and to compromise when they disagree; who doesn't loathe the person Vash is because it's not what he thinks Vash should be. So Vash eats what Wolfwood offers, despite Roberto's warnings, extending his trust. Wolfwoof takes that in the spirit it was intended, a little shocked. Despite himself (and despite Zazie), he and Vash are genuine friends from this moment onward.

Also Nick is having a ball bugging the shit out of Meryl. She's like three feet tall and so easy to piss off! Maybe if he tries hard enough he can make her head explode. Irritating the little sister mode: activate.

That doesn't mean everything's love and peace, though.

Wolfwood's work isn't over yet. I think he's relieved Vash extended his trust both because, despite himself, Nick likes this dude (and that must have been an interesting realisation to come to about his sadistic boss's fluffy wuffy cotton ball of a twin brother) and because it makes his job easier. But now he's emotionally invested. He shouldn't be. He can't be. Zazie reminded him why, can see it in [his] eyes. The last person who cared like this was Livio.

Again, Vash isn't stupid. He does care about Nick as a person, not a surrogate Nai, just as he cares about everyone; it's why he's so easy to love and so, so many people have come to love him. (Precious darling boy.) Nevertheless, there are gaps between what Vash needs from Nick and what Nick is capable of giving. And there's one huge glaring difference between Wolfwood and Knives.

That difference meant the hope Vash came to have about confronting Knives in July was misplaced. He just couldn't have known until it was too late.

Part I

Part III

Part IV

Part V

Part VI

Part VII

#trigun stampede #tristampparty #trigun meta #nicholas d. wolfwood #millions knives #vash the stampede #wolfwood's refusal to employ any skill at clandestine operations fucking cracks me up #it's like he's trying to get fired or discharged but he was abducted by a death cult #so he's just incompetent on purpose because fuck all ya'll #what are they going to do. fire him? torture him? shoot him?#bad news about all that stuff guys #meta: my brother's keeper

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chestcongestion · 1 month

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The Electrical Entomologist: Ha//zbin Ho/tel

Here we go, a Sta/tic/mo/th fic with Fetish! Vo/x and a sick, cranky Va/len/tino... I had quite a bit of fun with this one and I hope you enjoy it!

Word Count: 4,654

Content Warnings: Actual Sex, Masturbation, Vo/x being a creepy pervert

Vox was a very attentive, controlling, detail-oriented man.

When he wasn’t preoccupied with his work, Vox would sit in his surveillance room and stare slack-jawed at the citizens of Pentagram City, analyzing their every move and adding it to a database inside of his mind.

“Okay, shipment of new VoxTech cameras is coming in through the receiving bay,” Vox mumbled to himself, scanning the massive wall of screens with his all-seeing eyes, “Papermint is heading upstairs with my dry cleaning-”

“I-Ihh’PTsShheww!”

Vox’s heart nearly stopped, as his focus zeroed in on one of the hidden cameras he had in Valentino’s studio- one that was tucked away on a bookshelf in his private dressing room.

Valentino seemed almost bewildered and puzzled by the sneeze that just erupted from him, but brushed it off just as quickly, as though it was nothing.

Vox knew better, after years of watching Valentino in patient silence, he’d learned his other half’s patterns and had them memorized to perfection.

The way Val seemed to hang onto the tail end of that sneeze, that lingering itch that didn’t want to vanish after a sharp two-syllable sneeze, it was all too familiar. It was the ‘fluke, out-of-nowhere’ warning sneeze Valentino always let out when he caught a cold, almost as if the infection was growing roots, getting comfortable for the long ride ahead.

Vox felt a slow trickle of warm drool leak from his mouth until it formed a puddle on the surface of his desk.

Later that day, while the Vees were out at a fancy restaurant having dinner, Vox couldn’t help but laser focus on Valentino’s mannerisms as he puffed on a cigarette and took a few sips from his glass of ice water.

‘No cocktail… another tally for the board, he always seems to wean himself off of his vices, like his body knows he’s getting sick before he does’

Vox tried his hardest not to stare, but Valentino’s adam’s apple bobbed up and down twice, then again a third time before the moth took a cautious sip of his water.

‘He’s swallowing, his throat is probably so dry and scratchy… I wonder if he’s going to-’

As if on cue, Valentino shifted in his seat on the other side of the booth, scrolling through his phone with one hand while another found its resting place at the base of his neck, gently caressing his throat.

Vox’s mouth began to water as he drummed his fingers against the table, briefly looking away and pretending to check his watch.

“Where the fuck is the waitress with our food?! It’s been forty minutes,” Valentino complained, bouncing his left leg underneath the table and taking another long drag from his cigarette, letting out a billowing plume of heart-shaped smoke.

Vox crossed the fingers on his left hand, going back to staring at Valentino’s neck with a sense of carnal desire.

Two seconds later, Val ashed what was left of his cigarette, his eyes twitching as he muffled a cough behind clenched teeth.

“Fuck me- Khff! khff!- I need to get a new box of cigarettes, they rolled these too loose, they’ve been making me cough all day,” Valentino grumbled, taking a slow sip of his water.

Vox simply nodded, his thoughts racing as he watched Val try another experimental swallow.

‘He has no idea… it’s almost adorable, it feels so intimate, that I know exactly what’s happening inside of his throat, inside of his body, I can almost picture it’

“Vox… Vox!”

“Hm?! Wha?” Vox snapped out of his thought spiral, turning to his agitated lover with a kind smile, “Sorry, what were you saying?”

“Our food’s here, stop staring into space and eat,” Valentino replied, taking a cautious bite of his boneless ribeye, his left eye twitching after he swallowed.

Vox looked down at his goliath twenty-two ounce porterhouse and silently began to tuck in, devouring half of the mammoth steak in six massive bites, he hadn’t eaten all day, so the influx of calories was welcome- the distraction, however, was not.

“Fuck’s sake, Vox, eat slower, you’re acting like an animal!” Velvette hissed from her seat to Vox’s left, taking a bite of her gyro and washing it down with a sip from her frozen cocktail.

“Sorry,” Vox replied, taking in forkfuls of his massive steak a bit slower, pretending to savor each bite while sneaking glances at Valentino, who had seemingly given up after finishing half of his own steak, “What’s wrong?”

“It doesn’t taste right,” Valentino muttered, a frustrated squeaking sound leaving him as he twitched his antennae and stared at his phone.

“If you want, I can figure out which of the chefs made your order and leak any embarrassing footage I can find of him in my database on the news tonight,” Vox offered, shooting Val a doting smile as he polished off his porterhouse and licked his lips.

“No,” Valentino muttered, folding his arms, “It’s fine… I’m just not hungry.”

Vox frowned, as attractive as watching his lover fall ill in real time was, it was disheartening to see him so miserable.

After dinner, far later into the night, Vox was sitting in his and Valentino’s shared bed, scrolling through work emails on his phone while spying on Val as he showered, using the camera he hid in the corner of the bathroom as an extra eye.

“H-Hih’DdTshhEW! Hih’PSshhhew!”

“Bless you,” Vox whispered to himself, pinching his thighs tight to avoid the throbbing sensation he felt between his legs, those two sneezes sounded wet.

Valentino turned off the water in the shower, carefully stepping out into the steam-filled bathroom and toweling himself off.

“I-ihh’Pshhuh!” Valentino sneezed again, scrubbing at his nostrils with the back of his hand, “What the fuck?!”

‘He’s so oblivious… I wish I could tell him, but it’d spoil all the fun’

“Come on, Princess, we’ve both got packed schedules tomorrow, the train to Pound Town will only be at the station for ten more minutes,” Vox called out teasingly, smirking as he heard Val hurriedly applying his lotion and moisturizer.

Two minutes later, Valentino rushed out of the bathroom, throwing himself onto their bed and crawling until his plush rear was resting on Vox’s crotch.

“I’ve been looking forward to this all day,” Valentino whispered, tracing hearts onto Vox’s pectorals with his long fingers, “I could feel you staring at me like a piece of meat, Papi, you want it so badly, don’t you?”

“Not as badly as you do, slut,” Vox mumbled, gently sliding down his pajama pants and boxers to expose himself, “Do you want Daddy inside of you?”

“Oh y-ye-ehh… Ihh… IH’DdTsShhew!... Ih’PSschew!...” Val responded, rubbing the heel of his palm against his nostrils with a damp sniffle, “SnFF! Sorry…”

Vox’s heart began to race, feeling his mouth water again.

“Are you hard right now?” Val asked, raising an eyebrow as he wiggled his hips, feeling the stiff presence inside of his rectum, “Oh my god, you freak, did me sneezing make you hard?”

“Yes,” Vox groaned, leaning back against the pillows, “Don’t play dumb, you know what I’m into, asshole.”

“Well then, you said we only have seven minutes… let’s get a move on, baby,” Valentino whispered, the slight huskiness to his voice vibrating through Vox’s audio sensors and making him flush a deep blue as he began to roll his hips.

Vox was so lost in his own thoughts about Valentino’s cold that he had completely tuned out the moth’s aroused moaning as he was being penetrated, until the exact moment Valentino orgasmed.

“Mmm… ohmygod- FuU-ck!!

Val’s voice cracked and broke at the tail end of his pleasure-endrenched moan as he hopped off of Vox’s still-throbbing cock and rolled out of bed to clean himself up, “That was incredible, Vox, you’re getting so good at doing it fast,” he whispered, kissing Vox’s neck, his voice still slightly raspy.

“Th-thank you,” Vox muttered, drooling as he stared at Valentino’s adam’s apple, paralyzed by his persistent boner.

“Poor baby, I felt you finish inside me, do you need to go agAin?” Valentino whispered, his voice breaking at the end of his sentence, “Hrmm-hrmm!- ‘Scuse me… don’t worry Voxxie, I’ll be right back to suck you off when I’m done cleaning up.”

“Y-you don’t have to,” Vox stammered, feeling more electricity rushing to his crotch after Val cleared his throat, mildly afraid that he would pass out from the overworking of his system.

“Nonsense, Papi, you made time in both of our busy schedules to take care of me, it’s my turn to take care of you… KHFF! Khff!,” Valentino tilted his head up, caressing his slender neck with one hand, “Plus, maybe a quick massage from your joystick and a load of your cum will do something about this stupid- Khhff!- fucking tickle in my throat.”

Vox’s eyes crossed, “Mm-mmhmm… Ö̵̭-̶̫͖̪͑͠o̴̘̪͊̾͜-̸̘͈̀̃o̸̜̲͌͊͝ͅk̵̘̱̿̍á̵̻-̶̠̓̌a̶̙̚ÿ̸̡͈́̇,” he replied, his boner throbbing almost painfully as Valentino wandered into the bathroom, occasionally letting out a few dry, ticklish coughs as he cleaned himself up.

‘Am I too into this? Maybe I just haven’t been able to indulge like this in a while? We usually do kink play with Val’s fetishes, since he’s got more of them… maybe it’s just been a while since he’s been sick?’

Vox’s mind raced as he fought the urge to graze his twitching penis with his fingertips, still practically paralyzed by arousal.

‘He isn’t even really sick yet, how am I going to function later?’

Vox couldn’t answer his own question before Valentino returned- freshly washed- to their bed, crawling across the bedspread until his head was at level with Vox’s crotch, wrapping his long tongue around Vox’s pulsating and desperate cock before going to town.

In about two minutes, Vox finally had his massive release, Valentino had about a half-liter of cum flooding his throat and the inside of his mouth, and a pulse of electricity radiated out to the rest of the tower’s wiring, causing the power to briefly flicker on and off.

“Would you two perverts cut it out?! I’m blow-drying my hair!” Velvette hollered from a few rooms over, “Go to sleep!”

“Sorry Velvette!” Vox called back before turning his attention to his lover, “Sorry to you about the uhm… wide load.”

Valentino swallowed in two heavy gulps, licking his lips as a chill radiated up his spine, making him shiver, “Ay, mierda, wide load is an understatement,” he replied, “You were really pent up there, hm?”

“Y-yes,” Vox replied, pulling up his boxers and pajama pants and sliding underneath the comforter, “Come on, let’s go to sleep.”

Valentino smiled, tracing a heart over Vox’s chest with a slender finger before clapping to turn out the lights and joining him under the covers.

“G’night Val,” Vox yawned.

“G’night Papii-ih.. I-Ih’ptSschiew!... snff! ‘Scuse mbe,” Valentino replied, drifting off to sleep, blissfully unaware that Vox would lie awake staring at his snoring form and thinking about that last sneeze for at least three more hours.

The next morning, Vox woke up at sunrise, quietly sliding out of bed and arching his back to stretch, turning back toward the bed to sneak a peek at his lover. A grin flashed across Vox’s face when he saw the shiny irritated skin on Valentino’s ‘nose’ and the puffy bags sitting under his eyes.

Valentino was a sight to behold as he snored noisily on his side of the bed: he looked pale, he looked exhausted, he looked truly sickly, he looked awful, and in his awfulness, the moth looked more beautiful and captivating than ever.

Vox gently caressed Valentino’s cheek with his left hand, trying not to drool as he heard the rumble of congestion in the moth’s sinuses.

“I love you,” Vox whispered, turning on his heel and leaving the bedroom to get dressed and get started with his incredibly busy day.

A few hours later, Vox was in his surveillance room after a grueling series of meetings with the 666 News production team about the graphics budget for the next quarter. As a treat, Vox zeroed in on the cameras in the porn studio, kicking his legs under his desk while he watched.

In the studio, the team was working on a film featuring a threesome- two women, one man- and Valentino was pouting from his chair, looking completely unimpressed.

“M mphh… H-hahh… Oh my god, yes! Yes!” a random amateur porn actress moaned from her position splayed across a desk on set, digging her fingernails into the plywood and crossing her eyes.

“Y-yeah, you like that d-don’t you?” the actor penetrating her stammered, anxiously struggling to keep his eyes on her, Valentino’s piercing, judgemental gaze looming over him like a vengeful spirit. The actor wrenched his eyelids shut, silently dreading the words he could feel coming next.

“Cut!” Valentino shouted, his hoarse voice struggling, forcing him to quietly clear his throat, “Hrghht-hrmm- Okay, what the fuck is going on? Why are you looking at her like you’re trying not to make a first date awkward?”

“I- I don’t know it’s just, it’s hard to look at her and say the lines and… and,”

“Say ‘and’ one more time, I’ll rip off your dick and make you eat it,” Valentino hissed, standing up and grabbing the actor by his neck, holding him up in the air above the rest of the cast and crew, “I want this to be a lesson to the rest of you- snff!- lyi’g on your resumé id the real world mbight get you fired. But down’d here, this is what lyi’g od your resumé gets you.”

Vox darted his eyes away from the screen as Valentino crushed the amateur actor’s neck with a single squeeze, tossing the motionless corpse against the wall and ignoring the puddle of arterial blood that was forming on the tile floor.

“Alright, sub in, let’s start agai… iih..”

Vox turned, staring at Valentino from multiple camera angles, drool beginning to drip into his lap.

“iIH’DdDTschhIEW! Ih’DdTschhuhh! IH’DdDShhew! Hi-IHH’TssShiiEW!”

Vox quietly unbuttoned and unzipped his slacks.

“Fuck’s sake… Snff! Kitty, I ndeed a tissue,” Valentino muttered, pulling his elbow away from his face only to avert his eyes at the stringy trail of mess coating his sleeve, “Snff-snff! Ughh…”

The cast and crew on set all struggled to avert their gaze as Valentino plucked a few tissues from the box that was offered to him by his RoboFizz assistant, letting loose a gurgling blow and collapsing back into his chair.

“Thag’k you, Kitty… Snff!” Valentino sighed, wiping his streaming nostrils with his crumpled-up tissue and staring listlessly at his crew, “Alright- Snff!- let’s try that agai’d.”

The actress hopped onto the desk she’d been bent over, rolled onto her back, and the scene started over from the beginning.

“Oh… I almost forgot you were here, Steven,” the actress gasped as she shimmied off her underwear until they hung around her left ankle, “Veronica and I were just about to have ‘girl time’... if you want, you can watch.”

“That sounds hot,” the actor replied, only to wince upon realizing that he had gone off-script, “Oh fuck-”

“Cut!” Valentino shouted, getting out of his chair and rolling up his copy of the script before smacking the replacement actor in the back of the head repeatedly, “Why do I even’d bother with you fucki’g idiots whed you ndever fail to disappoint mbe?!”

“I’m sorry, I can try again, I forgot the intro to the scene I-”

“Hiih’Ihh’pSshiew! Hi-Ih’psSHIEW!” Valentino turned away to cover his sneeze loosely with his left arm, “That’s it, I’ve seen enough- snff!- we’re fidished shooti’g today! Out!”

The cast and crew hurriedly rushed to clean up the set and gather their things, while Valentino stormed out of the studio, tossing equipment to the ground aggressively on his way out.

“Imbeciles! Amateurs!- Snff!- It’s impossible to get adythi’g done- Snff-snff!- Dammit!” Valentino said, hissing as his antennae vibrated above his head, digging his claws into the wall as he approached the elevator.

‘He always does this when he gets all cranky… he’s coming down to my surveillance room… he’s coming to see me’

Vox twirled a random cable around his finger, kicking his feet as he watched Valentino’s aggression and rage die down due to his waning energy, the massive overlord winding back a fist in the elevator to punch at the walls, only to lean back against the handrails, holding a hand up to his mouth to cover a hoarse cough.

“Fucking idiots- snff- I would’ve been able to act that out with a fucking blindfold on,” Val grumbled, swiping the back of his hand under his nostrils, “I need to throw something…”

Vox struggled to contain his joy when Valentino stormed through the automatic sliding door entrance to his surveillance deck, his heeled boots clicking against the polished steel.

“Val, what a pleasant surprise! How did the shoot go?” Vox asked, clasping his hands together and standing near a few of the smaller screens as Valentino swayed slightly on his feet.

“The fucking clowns I picked for this film can’t act to save their lives- snff- I know porn is all about half assing it, but if you can’t even do a half-assed job at acting you’re a waste of space- snff!- Ugh! Mby nose is fucking running!” Valentino said, gnashing his teeth as he scrubbed desperately at his face.

“That’s awful, I think I’ll sort through my most attractive and least competent employees for another round of surprise layoffs, find you some more talent,” Vox offered, quietly offering Valentino a handful of tissues.

“It’s just ridiculous, these assholes had the nerve to look nervous when I told them to get their shit together! I wanted to shove my hand up their asses and move them through the shoot myself like the useless brain-dead flesh puppets they are!” Valentino shouted, balling his fists, “Fuck’s sake, I… I…”

Vox quietly licked his teeth as he watched Valentino begin to wilt, staggering on his feet and holding a hand to his left temple, massaging the skin with his fingers.

“Hi-Ih’PsShhuhh! I-ih’psschiew!” Val sneezed, letting loose a pitifully wet sniffle, “Uch… snff-snff!”

‘Right on cue, there we go,’ Vox thought, quietly grabbing Valentino’s wrists and guiding him over to his chair, “Bless you! You look exhausted, here, take my chair,” he offered, watching Val practically collapse into his seat.

“Voxxy,” Valentino said, shivering slightly as he buried himself a bit deeper into his coat.

“Mhm?” Vox replied, pretending to be distracted by the screens, redirecting his attention to Valentino and feeling something bloom in his stomach when he saw the exhaustion tugging at Val’s eyes and the slight flush that had spread across his face, “You seem to have calmed down, that’s good.”

“I’b tired,” Valentino complained, blowing his ‘nose’ with aggressive gusto, frowning and folding his arms when he still felt hopelessly congested, “I thig’k I’mb sick.”

‘Took you long enough to figure that out, sweetheart,’ Vox thought, internally rolling his eyes, but choosing to channel his raw desperation into doting, “I think so too,” he said, stroking Valentino’s cheek with one hand and taking his temperature using the infrared sensors in his eyes, “100.5 degrees.”

“I’b freezi’g,” Valentino grumbled, shivering slightly as his makeshift coat failed to ward off the febrile chills that radiated through him, “I-ihh’PtSshew! Ih’Ptshhiew!”

“You poor thing, this sounds like it’s shaping up to be a nasty cold,” Vox crooned, still caressing Valentino’s face, unfazed by his leaky sinuses and scorn-filled expression, “Let’s get you to bed.”

Val reached out toward Vox with his arms, a pleading look in his shimmering red eyes as he let out a pitiful sniffle, “Carry me?” he asked, batting his eyelashes.

Vox gnawed on the inside of his cheek, scooping Valentino up into his arms and carrying him bridal-style out of his surveillance room, his spine tingling when Val leaned over his shoulder to cough.

“Sorry- snff!- mby throat is so scratchyy- YiIhh’PSshew! Ih’pshuuh!” Valentino said, wiping haphazardly at his face with a tissue.

“Bless you,” Vox said, carrying Valentino upstairs to their penthouse, all the way to their shared bedroom at the far end of the hall. Planting Val down on the floor, Vox slowly pulled back the blanket and sheets while Valentino changed out of his clothes and into an oversized Squirterz T-shirt.

Weak on his feet, Valentino quietly slid into bed and got comfortable under the covers, swiping the back of his hand across his face in an attempt to ward off a building itch.

“D’you need anything? Whatever you want, it’s yours, I promise,” Vox vowed as he stood at the foot of his and Valentino’s shared bed.

“I’b okay… I-ihh’pshhuh! Ih’pSsschiew!... I’mb just gonna take a ndap,” Valentino replied, taking off his glasses and cuddling up against the pillows on his side of the bed, breathing noisily through his mouth due to his clogged sinuses.

Vox felt a spark of arousal radiating up and down his spine, and a familiar stiffness in his pants, “Uhm- hey Val? Before you sleep, could I ask a huge favor?” he asked, fidgeting with the fabric on his lapel.

“What is it? Snff-snff! Uchh…”

“You think you’d be up to getting… ‘intimate’? Just once, I just, I’ve been pent up for ages and I’m desperate for it,”

Valentino scoffed, clearing his sinuses with a wet and heavy blow, “No way… snff! Not right now, I’d probably puke if you tried to fuck me… and my throat hurts too much to suck your dick,” he whined, folding his arms.

Val’s cranky complaining only sent more energy to Vox’s throbbing and desperate cock, forcing the CEO to hold both hands over his fly to avoid the embarrassment of his beloved seeing his massive boner.

“I-I’ll suck yours! I just need you, any part of you right now, you don’t have to lift a finger, I promise, I’ll even clean up afterwards!” Vox begged.

Valentino huffed, letting loose a few scratchy-sounding coughs, “Fine…if you promise I don’t have to do anything,” he said, rolling his eyes and crawling back over the covers so he could open his legs, shivering a bit as his exposed lower half quickly became chilled.

Vox licked his lips, hurriedly diving forward and wrapping his mouth around Valentino’s massive cock, gliding up and down along the shaft as saliva pooled in his mouth from the arousal at Val’s symptomatic noisiness.

“i-Iih’psSchew! IH’PtSshhew! Ih’ptshheww!” Valentino sneezed, dabbing at his nostrils with a tissue, “Hurry up! Mby legs are cold!”

Vox moaned, his cock twitching as he continued to slurp back saliva as he sucked, trying to keep drool from leaking out of his mouth and pooling at the base of Valentino’s shaft.

“Khhf! Khff-khff!” Valentino drew a sharp breath, holding a fist up to his mouth as his cheeks flushed, the tickle in his throat blooming out of control, “KHFF- koff- koff! KHFFF!”

Vox’s eyes crossed, more drool gathering in his mouth from the waterfall of saliva that was developing under his vibrant blue tongue, “Mmnh… Mmghh,” he moaned, his mouth still full.

“Voxxy hurry up! I’m tired!” Valentino snapped, his cheeks burning as his low-grade fever made him irritable. Wheezing slightly, the moth weakly kicked out one of his legs as his sensitive skin stung from the stimulation of Vox’s tongue, his eyes threatening to roll back in his skull.

Vox moaned desperately, releasing into his underwear with a full-body shudder right as Valentino whimpered, releasing a jet stream of cum into Vox’s awaiting mouth, some of the excess leaking out of the corners and dribbling down his flat face.

“Thank you, Val, thank you, that was-” Vox gulped, realizing how much cum was dribbling out of his mouth when he attempted to speak with it half-full, “-that was amazing… you alright?”

Valentino whined, curling up on himself as sweat trickled down his flushed face and goosebumps spread across his chilled, hypersensitive skin, “I’m so tired… and everything feels so hot… my skin burns,” he groaned, hugging his knees as tears brimmed in his eyes, “I-ihh’ppSshew! Ih’Pt-CHEW!”

Vox contained his arousal now that he’d had his fun, settling back into the role of caretaker for his ailing lover and pressing his palm against Valentino’s cheek, “Your fever has you so sensitive and antsy, doesn’t it?” he asked, kissing his lover’s neck.

Valentino let out a hopelessly wet sniffle, dragging the back of his wrist across his face, “Mmhm,” he replied, shivering, “I’ll let you fuck mbe when I’m feeling better, Papi, but right now I’m not in the mood.”

Vox cooed affectionately as he stroked Valentino’s head in between his antennae, “Of course, I couldn’t contain myself, I’m so sorry… I promise I’ll be patient now,” he said with a smile, “Anything you need before you take your nap?”

“Another shirt? I got all sweaty and now it’s stuck to my back and it’s making me cold… Hh’ptchhew! I-ihh’pshhew!” Valentino requested, peeling off his sweat-drenched T-shirt and shivering helplessly among the jostled covers, coughing into a clenched fist, “And a glass of water… ‘m thirsty.”

“Of course,” Vox replied, kissing Valentino’s cheek, “I’ll be right back.”

Ten minutes later and Vox returned with an oversized VoxTech branded T-shirt alongside a large glass of ice water. Quickly, Vox pulled the shirt over Valentino’s head and adjusted it until it rested comfortably on his frame, before tucking Val back under the covers and setting the glass of water on his nightstand.

“There we go, all set to take your nap?” Vox asked, stroking Valentino’s cheek with the back of his hand, his stomach fluttering when his lover’s fever-warmed skin trembled under his touch and he whimpered hoarsely.

“Mmhm… will you stay with mbe?” Valentino asked, rubbing his eyes and yawning as he took off his glasses and set them down next to his glass of water.

“I can’t sleep with you, it’ll throw off my recharge cycle and I have some work to get done, but I’ll work remotely so I can stay in the room while you sleep, sound fair?” Vox offered, smiling.

Valentino huffed, but relented, “Mkay… sounds fair… snff! Snff!” he replied, curling up and pulling the blankets up to his shoulders as his eyelids began to droop and he dozed off in earnest.

Vox watched Valentino’s chest rise and fall for a few minutes, pondering on whether or not he should pull up some of the camera footage from the past few hours as viewing material or if he should pull out his laptop and actually get some work done while his boyfriend slept.

“Khff-Khff!.... KOFF!”

Vox straightened his posture and quickly took a seat on the window bench in his and Valentino’s shared bedroom, staring desperately as Valentino let out cough after cough in his sleep, his dry throat getting irritated in his slumber.

“kHFF-khff-khff!”

Vox sighed, unzipping his pants and sticking his hand into his boxers. Work could wait… who knows when his beloved boyfriend would ever be this sick again? Or when he’d have an opportunity to quell some of his unruly arousal without having to inconvenience a sick person by pestering them about wetting his wick.

“khFF- Khff- KOFF!”

Vox lapped up a bit of drool that threatened to leak out of his mouth as he began to rub his sore, overexerted penis, static electricity clinging to his fingertips as metal met metal over and over and over again.

‘I’ll just…just go until he finishes coughing…then I’ll get some work done… yeah’

“kHFF-KHFF!! Koff- khff-khff!”

Vox chewed on his tongue to silence an aroused moan, briefly checking the clock and noticing the crackling and sparks that surrounded his twitchy fingers as they ran along his shaft.

For the sake of Vox’s dignity, his work, and the fire-prone wooden furniture in the room, hopefully something managed to soothe either Valentino’s ticklish throat or the VoxTech CEO’s relentless libido.

Preferably both.

#ha/zb/in ho/tel #snz #snz kink #illness kink #snz fic #gingey.rtf

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obetrolncocktails · 8 months

Text

Scarlett | Vampire!Danny Wagner X f!Reader | Part 1

Warnings: Stalking, Murder, witness of murder, heavy gore, intense depictions of murder/dying, smoking, alcohol consumption, gaslighting, compulsion/mind-control, magic, foreboding/uneasy tension.

Work Count: 4093

A/N: I've never written something quite this spooky, so I hope you guys enjoy! I present to you, Vampire Danny!

Summary: Danny' has spent fifteen-hundred years on the prowl, using and discarding thousands of bodies once they've served their purpose. There's no use to give feeder's personalities or learn about their lives. Since being turned, people hold little to no significance except to feed upon. It's the blood that matters. And, as much as he tried, animals never satiated his thirst. The truth is the truth. Humans always taste better. Be careful or you're next...

Her blood pounds through her veins, the sound of it in my ears like rushing water through a broken levee. I can sense her presence. Somewhere in this city, she lives innocently, unaware that I know of her, though I don’t know her name or her history. If you believe in destiny like I do, I listen to the ether and whatever draws me to my subjects.

She is vivacious. I can feel the energy licking over my body with naive vitality, and I know. I know that it’s her I must find, that I must possess.

My veins burn as if exposed to capsaicin, the throbbing ache launching me from this emptying parking garage to move deeper into the city to find you. To watch you. To want you. I take one last glance at the darkening cityscape before lowering myself into my corvette. The sky lunges into dusk, and I know that time is of the essence if I hope to find you tonight. I use my senses to pull me through the piling traffic. I take back roads, taking turns using my intuition to guess who you are, and where you may be spending time.

You’re young.

I can sense it easily in our connection. Good. The young ones are my favorite, and they taste the best, too. I feel my canines lowering as I fantasize about you, the sharp fangs scraping against the meat of my lower lip. I enjoy the sensation, feeling most like myself when I can let my mind wander, igniting my adopted instincts. I feel my eyes focusing harder now, my awareness intensely heightened.

I never liked the city lights. To me, they’ve always been one of the more annoying inventions since the Industrial Revolution. The one thing they do provide for me, though, is the distraction, especially in a big city like this one. It’s ironic really. You’d think ample lighting would keep darkness from invading, but it’s quite simple. Bad things happen to good people no matter what. It’s a vicious cycle, but even put more simply, it’s called strategy. I’ve known for fifteen-hundred years that with a keen sense for human nature and with just enough charisma, you can do almost anything and get anything and anyone you want. Marquee lights and logos pull gazes upward while I strike from behind. They never suspect me.

✠

“Scar, what are you waiting for? Get your ass in here, ” one of your best friends, Jordan, practically yanked you inside of the nightclub. Something in the air felt sinister, and though you couldn’t put your finger on exactly what it was, your attention was still drawn to the darkness beyond the brightly-lit sidewalk and entrance to the nightclub. A loud, muffled beat thrummed through your body as you stepped into the large room, deafening your ears to nearby voices. The room was equipped with fog machines that casted a thick, low-hanging blanket of smoke. Bright lasers sliced beams of light through the haziness from one end of the venue to the other. From where you stood, the room was electrified with what seemed like every color of the rainbow. Somehow, though, aside from the laser show, the room itself was not brightly lit. What seemed like hundreds of bodies touched, groped and danced on the floor as you waded through the narrowing walkway.

“Grab my hand!” Jordan shouted over the music. You weren’t quite sure what she had said, but you took her hand anyway, letting her direct you through the crowd toward the dance floor. So many people this close to you made you feel extremely claustrophobic, but you silently attempted to push the feelings aside in hopes that you’d reach a pocket of open space shortly. Then, the same feeling that previously flooded your body was back again–the feeling of something watching, as if you were its prey. No one would understand what you were experiencing, and hell, you felt stupid for being so paranoid. As your gaze flicked up toward the bar, a strike of energy surged through your body, searing your vision with blinding light. Every inch of your body felt like it was burning from the inside out until you opened your eyes.

And there he was.

A man stared at you. Into you. From where you stood, you were frozen in place, staring into his eyes while people jostled you about.

“Move!” A disgruntled man growled at you, shoving past.

“Sorry…” You muttered distantly to him in apology. The man who stared at you from the bar was incredibly handsome. So much so that his beauty seemed otherworldly–like if you dared to look away from him, you’d never experience that type of attraction again for as long as you lived. He sat with a confident stoicism that struck you as being out of place, as if he were a moving statue brought to life out of a world-famous art museum. He was tall and muscular, but not overtly so. His hooked nose was Romanesque, curved in an aquiline shape. His dark hair coiled neatly around his face, making him look more like a Roman God than some unassuming man in a club. His eyes were dark and sinister and as they swept over you, it felt as if he had stripped you bare and could see all of you at once–your entire life, your family, your aspirations, your deepest fears and greatest desires. You were pulled out of your trance when Jordan tugged on your hand.

“Hey! You’re in peoples’ way. We have to move in deeper–” she shouted, but you protested.

“Wait–” You spun to look back at the man through the cluster of moving people, and when you did, he was gone. You whipped your gaze around, trying to process where he could have gone so quickly, but when you saw no evidence of his presence or his exit, you forced your legs to move forward with Jordan toward the DJ.

“D-Did you see that?” You called after her. She turned her head toward you, but her face scrunched with confusion.

“What?” She yelled over the music.

“That man!” You said, rushing up closer to her. “He was staring at me.” Jordan shook her head and shrugged.

“Probably thought you were hot as fuck!” She grinned, her perfect teeth glowing purple under the blacklight overhead. You offered her a thin smile in exchange. “Maybe you should go talk to him!” She said, beginning to move with the music. She pulled you close so she wouldn’t have to shout anymore. “Rachel should be here soon. I’ll dance with her instead. You suck at it, anyway.” She smirked at you with a wink and released your hand. “Go! Have fun and be safe. Keep your phone on you at all times.”

The freedom to find the mysterious man felt exhilarating, and though you wouldn’t admit it to Jordan, his gaze filled you with fear, but also with unexplainable longing. “Okay,” you told her. “Are you sure?”

“Go! Get railed or something,” She chuckled. “Oh wait,” She paused, reaching into her bag. “Take these, just in case.” She reached for your hand and opened it, tucking in two condoms.

“Jordan!” You gasped with a wide grin.

“Have fun!” She winked, and filtered deeper into the crowd without you. A wave of anxiety rolled over you as soon as you were alone. The music continued to pound in your ears, and for a moment you felt quite inebriated though you hadn’t taken a single sip of alcohol yet.

✠

For hundreds of years now, I’ve been able to cloak myself within plain sight, only revealing my true identity when my subject is within seconds of death. Others that have known me more...intimately, have usually served as my feeders. I’ve had men and women in my bed throughout the last fifteen-hundred years, many of them truly incredible lovers, but unfortunately, they’ve all ended up dead. Turns out I have very poor impulse control. I’ve gone to mortal therapists, and they’ve all told me the same thing, besides being a psychopath of course, that I’m a narcissist. I beg to differ. I believe in hedonism. I desire the finest things in life, and being immortal just gives me more time to enjoy it all.

I make eye contact with you and know that I’ve ensnared you, though you aren’t aware of it just yet. Those beautiful bright eyes staring back at me like a deer in headlights. It’s not hard for me to return your gaze. I feel no anxiety, only determination. I shake the ice in my half-empty old fashioned and consider how the rest of my night will progress. Seems as I’m just getting started, I abandon my drink and hunt, knowing you won’t leave without finding me.

My eyes roam in and above the crowd, looking for loners–people with nowhere to be, and no one to wait for them back at home. I lock my gaze onto a young man who looks to be about my age. He’s wearing thick glasses, his hair slicked back awkwardly. He looks out of place and anxious. He holds his arms close to his body like he’s used to being viewed as an annoyance to others. Why is he here? I ask myself silently, but given that I don’t have any context, I choose to follow him instead. I like it that way. He’ll end up dead soon enough, either way. In the time being, I’ll write my own story of his life, knowing very well how it will end. I feel my fangs begin to scrape against my bottom lip, and I know that I must feed soon.

I follow the man further into the dark venue and realize he’s heading toward the bathroom. Perfect. I round the corners silently and trail him into the back, dimly-lit hallway. Back here, the noise is minimal, which makes it important to stay quiet. I’m quick, but the only way to stop people from screaming is to kill them, and I’m not interested in compelling an entire night club to forget everything. I watch as the bathroom door swings shut behind the guy, and, taking one quick look behind me for anyone watching, I disappear into the bathroom behind him, hoping I’ll get a lucky break by no one else being in any of the stalls.

Sure enough, he’s the only one inside. Standing at the urinal, he unzips his pants and relieves himself, and, being the gentleman I am, I let him finish as I pretend to use the urinal beside him. I do not look at him. I wait for him to zip up his pants and turn toward the sinks before I lunge for him, reaching to sink my teeth into his perfect neck, directly into his jugular.

“What the fuck?!” He shouts as I bite down, his hands darting upward to attempt to peel me from him, but he can’t. He is powerless under my grip. I siphon the blood from his veins quickly, feeling my body becoming revitalized with every passing second. He still manages to scream loudly, and, in the moment, I should have regretted being lazy and choosing to not compel him before feeding. I make eye contact with him through the reflection in the mirror as he looks up with horror. He’s realized that I’m all over him, my face and neck covered in his blood. He also knows that most likely, he will die. I can’t help but grin.

“If you keep screaming, you’ll be dead in the next thirty seconds,” I warn him. He doesn’t listen, of course. They never do.

“Fuck you!” He screeches, kicking against me with all of his might. They never learn, I tell myself. With a wicked grin, I reach just under his jawline with both hands, and mercifully, I throw my hands upward, decapitating him easily. It’s a shame. I watch his body fall to the floor, his face still wide-eyed with terror. His mouth still moves as I watch the life drain from his mortal eyes. Blood spurts everywhere, in every direction, and I lament over the waste of a meal. I drop the head to the tile floor, watching it roll away from me. The floor pools with delicious blood, and, if I didn’t have standards, I would have saved every drop for myself.

Someone is coming.

I turn slightly over my shoulder as I hear the hurried footsteps. Wiping my mouth with my forearm, I turn toward the door. And there she is.

As beautiful as any creature I’ve ever seen, I watch her eyes widen and her jaw drop as she takes in the scene in front of her. It’s actually quite comical to think about, and I wonder if she’s ever seen this amount of blood at one time. My hands are covered in it, my leather jacket practically dripping from crimson spatter.

“Oh my God! What the fuck!?” She screams at me, her face draining of all color. And just like that, she’s on the run, prey in the eyes of the hunter.

✠

You weren’t sure how your feet kept up with your body in the moment. All you could remember was seeing so much blood. The man that caused it all was the same man that was staring at you earlier from the bar. You knew better than to rush through the crowd again, knowing you’d get stuck on the way out. Instead, you booked it toward the employee only area and searched for a service entrance. You turned to peer over your shoulder far too many times, because you knew he’d be searching for you, and like the dead man in the bathroom, you knew that you’d be his next victim.

“There you are,” a man’s voice slithered into your ears as you landed on the pavement outside of the club. You realized instantly that you’d made a grave mistake by choosing this back exit. Now, no one would bear witness to your murder, and even worse, you doubted anyone could hear your screams over the noise of the club. He leaned casually against the brick wall of the building across from you. His face was shadowed in darkness. You froze in place, horrified to even ponder how he’d beaten you out of the building.

“I have a knife!” you warned. “Stay away from me!” In truth, you had nothing to defend yourself, but figured it was better to lie than to die.

“A knife?” He asked matter-of-factly, pushing himself off of the wall. Reaching into his pocket, he retrieved a pack of cigarettes and pulled one out, placing it between his lips. “Want one?” He asked, tilting the box in your direction. You flinched, stepping back. He lifted one hand to his mouth to shield from the wind as he lit the end of the cigarette. You could see the drying blood on his hands. “And what exactly do you plan to do with that knife, darling?” He asked, taking a long drag of his cigarette, the cherry glowing bright red.“Surely not to stab me.” You stood in place, trembling from head to toe. You flitted your gaze from him over to each side, considering how to exit. “You poor thing,” he teased, his voice wafting through the air like velvet. His tongue clicked “You have no idea, do you, hm?” You watched as he took a step forward toward you, and you jumped back.

“Don’t!” You shouted at him.

“Don’t do what?” He asked slowly, cocking his eyebrow upward with curiosity. He was devastatingly beautiful, and though what you saw in the bathroom filled you with terror, something inside of you considered staying, even though your intuition should have told you better. “What are you scared of, little one? Why aren’t you running?” He asked with a knowing grin.

“I–I–” You stuttered, your eyes darting left to right as you considered where to go. “You’re gonna let me go?” You asked him, your fist bunching at your sides.

“Run along before I change my mind,” he responded matter-of-factly.

As quickly as you could, you sprinted down the dark alleyway away from him, the gravel crunching under your shoes as you ran. And then he was in front of you, smirking. When he opened his bloody mouth, you saw the fangs as they glimmered under the street lamps.

“Too slow,” he almost sang. You halted in place, and considered turning to run the other way, but as you spun on your heel, he launched forward, clawing at you with his arms outstretched. In his clenched fist, he caught your ponytail and looped it around his fingertips, yanking you backward, where you landed on your back. The force knocked the wind out of you, and your scalp ached from his grip.

“Don’t–” you begged quietly, your voice sounding foreign as it left your mouth. “Please.”

“Don’t worry, Darling,” the man said, lifting his gaze to look into your eyes. You watched as his pupils dilated, and then returned to their normal size. His gaze pierced through you as if altering your brain chemistry.

“You’ll forget everything that happened to you. You drank too much. No one touched you. You will go back to your friends, and you’ll forget what you saw in the bathroom. You’ll forget me once I finish feeding.” His hands gripped tightly around your body as he spoke. His face was crusted with dark blood, and even so, he possessed a haunting beauty that unsettled and awoke something that lay dormant in your soul for your entire life. Feeding. He said feeding. Before you could process, he lunged forward and pinned you against the earth. An unearthly shriek exploded from your lungs as his fangs sank into your neck. In a moment of inexplicable clarity, you felt every sense ignite, your entire body burning from the inside out with literal flames licking off of your skin, illuminating the dark and grimy alleyway. Your scream morphed into a deafening howl that made even your ears ring. The roar that left your body initiated a moment of pure power and supernatural defense. In a moment that seemed to last a lifetime, you felt your entire being morph into something otherworldly, siphoning all of the energy in the atmosphere to harness this incredible, volatile power. Your captor hissed and yelped from the burns searing his body, yet he still hauled himself on top of you. An incredible calmness overrode your terror, and with simple instinct, you lifted your hand to your side, and closed your eyes, manifesting the man’s image in your head. The scene played out in your mind before it happened, and once you were satisfied, you opened your eyes, your powers having run their course, ripping his body off of yours and leaving him floating high in mid-air in the middle of the alleyway.

His eyes widened in surprise, but not necessarily from fear. They had shifted from a deep shade of chocolate brown to that of molten gold, his hair spiraling around his head in glorious display. He was terrifying, yet inarguably captivating; and yet, you were the one with power now. In one motion across your own throat with the tips of your fingers, you manifested that you’d slit his throat, and, just like before, you watched as your power took hold and echoed the command upon his neck, slicing one deep, fatal gash from one ear to the other. You watched the blood messily pour from the gash, spilling onto his clothes, down his arms, off of his body and onto the pavement below, painting it bright crimson. You watched with relaxed determination as he began to gurgle and choke on the blood, his eyes becoming half-lidded with weariness, his body beginning to convulse and seize where he hung. Power filled your body with dignified confidence, and in the moment, you didn’t worry once about the blood. You wanted him dead. Annihilated into dust.

Looking down at your hands, your mind began to return to that of human instinct. Your sudden lack of compassion had disturbed you as the power leached from your grasp. You’d grown up having powers—you knew you had them, but it had been years since they’d appeared, and even so, you’d never been capable of harnessing this much energy before. It hadn’t been unusual for you to be able to make certain objects float, or make things move on their own. You’d kept this gift to yourself all of these years, never revealing the truth to anyone. This instance, however, was something very new, and, without a single drop of alcohol in your system, you knew two things were true. You were sober and that this was very, very real, and the man hanging in the air above you was most definitely not human.

You lifted your gaze up at him, half-expecting him to be dead. And when you did, he opened his eyes, smirked, and then laughed. You watched as he spat the blood dismissively at the ground before he straightened easily and stopped trembling from feigning death and began to cackle as if he’d seen something incredibly amusing. When you made eye contact with him, he grinned widely, his teeth painted deep maroon as blood dripped out of his mouth and off of his chin. His fangs glinted off of what little light was expressed from the street lamp on the path behind the club.

“Wow,” he finally said, scoffing. “I don’t know what I expected, but it sure as fuck wasn’t that,” he admitted with a chuckle. “Color me impressed!” You watched in horrified confusion, speechless as to how the man hanging in front of you could still talk, let alone breathe. Peering down at your hands, you silently questioned how you were able to defend yourself from him.

“What are you?” You asked him maliciously, balling your fists at your side. You watched as he casually crossed his arms across his chest.

“I could ask the same thing about you, sweetheart.” He smirked widely, his eyes sparkling with excitement. “Are you a witch?” He asked.

“I–I don’t know,” you answered defensively. “What are you?” You asked again, venom laced between every word. He huffed a chuckle through his nose.

“You haven't figured it out yet? I took you as being much smarter than that, Scarlett.” Your attention snapped upward as he said your name for the first time.

“How the fuck do you know my name?” You asked him, practically hissing as you spoke.

“Was it a secret?” He asked, his lips turning upward in a smug expression.

“Who the fuck are you!?” You shouted lifting your arm in front of you, ready to will your power back in place.

“I’m Danny. Daniel if I’m in trouble,” he answered simply. “Friends call me Danny.” He spoke as if he’d sat down for a cup of coffee with you. How could someone so malicious and evil be so careless? You let silence drift for a few moments. “Let me walk you through it, Darling,” he sighed. “Can you let me down first?”

“No!” You answered immediately.

“Do I still scare you?” He asked. “It’s the fangs, isn’t it?” You watched as he opened his mouth, noticing the prominent canines that protruded into sharp points at either side. Then suddenly, they morphed back into normal, human shape. “And the blood?” He asked. “You can use your witch powers to clean it off, can’t you?”

“You’re a fucking murderer,” you hissed through your teeth, squeezing your hands into fists at your side. “I’m not doing shit for you. I should call the police.”

“Honey, if you wanted an aftershow, you really should have just asked. I’m hungry anyway, and, while I was about to feast on you, I don’t prefer witch blood.”

“I’m not a witch,” you spat at him. He chuckled menacingly.

“And I’m not a fucking vampire.”

With as much power as you could muster, you closed your eyes and imagined him being slammed into the earth. Hard. You turned and prepared to walk away before opening your eyes and letting it be done, hearing a loud thud on the ground behind you. Something in you had shifted, the terror morphing quickly into amusement, a wide grin plastered across your face as you walked away from him, listening to the moans and groans that escaped from his body as he picked himself up from the pavement.

End of Part 1.

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