#Oh sweet Gala you are far too nice

[starlytenight]

Glad to see you're taking time to get better! Got a question if you're interested in answering- If Galacta Knight gets an opportunity to actually have a decent conversation with Morpho, what would they talk about?

Oh, this one is too good not to do a small off-canon comic for because let's just say such an encounter would uh completely derail everything at the moment, even if it's just a moment of conversation hahaha. >:)c But it's too juicy not to think about. Enjoy~♫

The only way this would technically be possible would be Galacta wandering in into Morpho's domain through the Dreamscape, which could absolutely happen actually. Though between them... simple small talk won't exactly fly.

Feeling conflicted is pretty alien to a god.

As is questioning one's purpose.

Happy Belated Valentine's Day✨💖

[perlelune]

Hunger | Coriolanus Snow

From the moment your husband introduces to President Snow, you're untethered, as if the very floor was ripped from underneath you.

Warnings: NON-CON, District 12! Reader, Covey! Reader, Housewife Kink, Manipulation, Somnophilia, Breeding Kink, Chasing

This is a dark story. Heed warnings before reading under the cut.

Nervousness wrenches your insides as you peer at the proceedings from afar. Another gala to raise funds in order to quell a budding rebellion in the Districts. The second one this year. 

They always leave you feeling sour. It’s not like the Districts have no reason to start an uprising. The next reaping is fastly approaching and you’d rage too if your family was to go through that again.

You take a tiny sip from your glass of posca, mindful not to overindulge. The diluted, aromatic wine is far stronger than one would imagine. But a slight dash of intoxication is the only way you can see yourself getting through the night. Crowds always made you anxious, but a gathering of Capitol citizens stirs a particular discomfort in you. 

You’re not one of them and you often wonder if they can tell, sense a whiff of District 12 on you. The foul stench of unbelonging. Perhaps in the manner you speak or your stance. You’ve never managed to perfectly mimic the way Capitol ladies carry themselves, born from a lifetime of practicing poise and etiquette. After all, you are an outsider, and always will be.

Regardless of how many galas you attend, fashionable dresses you order to match the quickly changing trends of the Capitol, effort you exert to erase your thick Covey accent…it seems someone can always tell there’s more to you.

It’s in that mocking glint in their eyes, that sneering lilt in their voice.

To them, you’ll never be more than District rabble. 

Which is exactly why you despise these events. But your husband insisted. He’s working hard to impress his boss, the most important man in all of Panem, and you can’t let him down.

You must be the picture of charm. Laugh at every joke, nod your head when a serious topic is being broached, display interest when personal stories are being shared.

You place a hand on your roaring stomach, a frown creasing your brow. You haven’t swallowed a bite the entire day, too anxious about how tonight would go.

Your gaze darts about the room. The tantalizing spread of appetizers in the middle of the room seems to be calling your name. Your mouth waters.

Without a thought, your feet glide across the marble tiles. A little self-conscious, hesitation tingles at your fingertips as they drum by one of the silver platters. Another pang of hunger pierces your insides at the sight of the food. You cave in, picking up a tiny sandwich from a plate. Your eyes close, angels singing in your mouth as delicious aromas trickle on your tongue. 

“Sweetie, there’s someone you must meet,” your husband chimes at your back.

Still chewing on a mouthful of meat and bread, you whirl. Your eyes bulge. Startled, you nearly suffocate on your food.

You quickly wipe your mouth as heat rushes to your cheeks.

You’ve seen his face before. The murky screens do not do justice to his dashing looks.

“President Snow. It’s a pleasure. Apologies, I was…”

A smile ghosts over his lips as he drinks you in, his cerulean gaze dragging over your frame. “No apologies,” he answers silkily. “I’m glad you’re enjoying the food. At least someone is.”

He picks up your hand and presses an ephemeral peck on the back of it. You turn to Henry. The shock adorning your husband’s face mirrors yours.

President Snow’s lips curl skywards.

He lets go of your hand and adds, “It’s nice putting a face to your name. Henry is always raving about you.”

You shake your head, eyes bashfully finding the floor. “Oh, I’m sure he isn’t,” you mumble.

The blonde hums as if to disagree. He bends close to your ear.

“He’s always lauding what a wonderful wife you are, dutiful, sweet…”

…Makes me almost jealous.

Your head whips up.

You blink at the whispered words, barely above a breath. Maybe you heard wrong. It’s hard to tell, the way Snow gauges you, that subtle smile still decorating his handsome face.

He asks you trivial questions about how you’re settling in and how you’re enjoying your life in the Capitol. You answer every time, ignoring the chill dancing at the base of your spine.

His scrutiny swells your unease.

So as soon as the conversation veers away from you and towards the topics of lawmaking and taxes, you snatch the opportunity to excuse yourself.

You give an apologetic smile to your husband.

“Henry, maybe I should go. I’m not feeling too hot.”

He scowls at you. “You want us to leave already?” Disappointment bleeds in his tone. A thick layer of shame settles in the pit of your stomach. You’re being a bad wife.

“You can stay, even if I go,” you try to offer.

“There’s still so many people we haven’t talked to…” Henry argues.

You deflate. You suppose it would be uncouth to leave too early.

To your surprise, President Snow’s smooth lilt interjects, “If your wife is unwell, you both should go.”

You gape at him. A strange glint bounces in his cerulean orbs and unease flutters through you once more. 

Henry sighs, grabbing your hand.

“Alright. I’ll go fetch the car.” 

He gives the blond a formal salute before dragging you away.

As the two of you leave, the heat of Snow’s attention prickles along your spine.

“Did he say something to you?”

Gasping, you turn to your husband. He pointedly looks at you and you shift awkwardly in the passenger seat. 

“What?” you say, taken aback by his sudden question. 

He studies you for a while before his gaze drifts back to the road.

“Snow. He said something to you, didn’t he?”

Your chest clenches. Faking nonchalance, you shrug and reply lightly, “Just a joke but I didn’t understand it.”

The days soar by, humdrum and uneventful. You file away the strange moment at the gala and return to your everyday life. Henry occupies most of your time but when you’re not catering to him, you tend to the house and read. And during stolen moments…you play and sing. Henry doesn’t know, of course. It’s a life you left behind, or are supposed to at least. 

You’re the wife of a Capitol official, not some District balladeer peddling song for coin.

But you can’t help it. 

Singing reminds you of home. Of endless green meadows and lazy afternoons by the river. Your life from before may have been uncertain but you find yourself missing it at times. Missing the freedom to do and act as you pleased.

An orphan like so many others, the Covey were the only family you ever knew. Then you met Henry. Henry who spoke so sweetly to you and gazed at you with warm brown eyes. And he became your family. He didn’t care that you were from a District or that your manners were lacking. He embraced you.

And now you wish to support him in all that he does. Even if it means tossing away parts of yourself.

The front door cracks open, halting the path of the needle between your fingers. A smile blooms on your lips as you place Henry’s shirt on a nearby table. You can resume fixing the buttons on it later. You rise from the armchair and make your way to him. You help him out of his coat, noting the excitement radiating off his frame.

He’s not usually this ecstatic after a day of work. You tilt your head in puzzlement.

He hugs you before announcing, “We have a guest tomorrow, a very important guest.”

“Oh,” you reply, tamping down your concern. The apartment isn’t exactly ready for guests, much less important ones. The fridge needs to be stocked and the furniture requires thorough dusting.

“Yes, I was mentioning what a wonderful cook you are and he said he hasn’t had a home cooked meal in a while.”

“Who?” you ask, your curiosity peaking.

“President Snow,” Henry replies with a victorious grin.

Dread and confusion collide inside you. Why would President Snow visit you and your husband of all people? While Henry’s been rising in ranks quite fast, you can’t picture the leader of the country making time for people like you.

But you don’t voice these thoughts, instead you inquire, “Are you sure my cooking will be enough for him? His palate is used to those fancy meals at the Capitol.”

He cradles your face and plants a kiss on your forehead.

“Don’t doubt yourself, honey. You’re an amazing cook.”

“I just don’t want to let you down,” you confess, anxiously chewing on your lip.

“You won’t,” he assures. His chestnut gaze dives into yours. “This could be a great opportunity for us. Imagine what being close to Snow could do for our lives. He could promote me. We could even move to a bigger place.”

Your brows knit. “I love our place.”

Henry laughs. “Yes but the day we expand our family, you have to admit it’ll be a little small.”

You peer at your surroundings. Every corner of the little house harbors a beloved memory. You’d hate leaving it behind, but you suppose he’s right. You might outgrow it one day.

Henry frames your chin to draw your focus back to him.

“Just be yourself,” he says. “Your kind, sweet, wonderful self and all will be well.”

Nodding, you give a feeble smile.

“Understood.”

The next day is spent meticulously cleaning every inch of the house. For hours you’re anxious, wondering what to say or do, how to behave. You don’t have the natural wit and charm to impress someone like Coriolanus Snow. You keep worrying you’ll speak out of turn and embarrass Henry. Preparing dinner is the only time your mind is at rest. You stir the vegetables in the stew, smiling as the delectable scent fills your nostrils. It’s simmered for hours to create a rich flavor. It’s only your second time trying this recipe so you’re a bit nervous. Henry adored it but he’s your husband. You don’t know if President Snow’s delicate taste buds will find your meals to his liking.

You’re slightly more confident about your strawberry cake. While you struggled with it at first, the frosting never quite coming out the way you wanted, it’s now turned into one of your specialties.

The doorbell rings and you freeze. You glance up at the clock hanging near the stove. Already? Time has flown and you didn’t notice.

As you approach the door, you smooth out the wrinkles in your apron and straighten your spine. You take a deep breath before opening the door. 

A wobbly smile cants your lips upwards. 

“President Snow, it’s an honor,” you greet cheerfully.

The tall blond crosses the threshold after your husband. You take him in, trying to girdle your apprehension. He casts an imposing figure with his slicked back silver locks and tailored purple suit, the signature white rose pinned to his left breast pocket as always.

An aura of authority seems to follow him wherever he goes. 

“Please, the honor is mine,” Snow says. His sky gaze roams across the living room. His expression is unreadable and you feel a bit self-conscious. It’s likely not as luxurious as what he’s used to. But to your surprise, he looks right at you and says, “What a lovely abode.”

His nose twitches as he hums, “I smell something heavenly, for me perhaps?”

You nod.

“I made beef stew.”

“Wonderful.”

Your cheeks warm at the compliment. 

“Shall we sit?” Henry says, escorting him to the dining room.

You rush to the kitchen and throw your apron on a chair. Inhaling a lungful of nerve, you slip on gloves and grab the pot from the stove. Slowly, you bring out the food. Your skin tingles with the weight of Snow’s eyes on you. 

You ladle out the stew on each plate. When you circle the table to serve Snow, you feel the faintest brush of fingertips over your hip. You flinch.

When you look at him, an almost imperceptible smile hovers on his lips. You blink and it almost seems like it’s gone, as if you dreamt the entire instant. The ladle wavers in your hand.

Did he mean to do that? Once again, you question your own senses, your sanity. It was a fleeting touch, the accidental kind that occurs everyday. But somehow your nerves are agitated with this mere, insignificant second.

Quickly, you round the table and plop down in the chair next to your husband. He squeezes your hand beneath the table, his brown gaze spelling “good job”. Relief sits inside you. You spent all day agonizing over every aspect of tonight so it’s nice to know Henry appreciates your efforts at least.

Everyone starts eating, your husband and Snow engaging in topics you only listen to with half an ear. Instead you focus on your plate, swallowing tiny bites of the stew. 

The flavor is nice and rich, just like you hoped, and pride trickles inside you.

“You’re so silent. Are we boring you?”

Snow’s abrupt statement yanks a sharp gasp from you. Your head snaps up. You realize both he and Henry are staring at you. Your face warms.

“N-No, I just don’t have anything interesting to contribute,” you stammer, your head dipping. 

“My wife has no mind for politics, I’m afraid,” Henry chuckles. 

Your mouth screws shut, your fingers tightening around your spoon. It’s more that your opinions differ vastly and there are things Henry prefers you don’t say aloud.

A crooked smirk blooms on Snow’s lips.

“Ah, a pretty, silent one. I believe you lucked out with this one, Henry.”

Your teeth grind as your brows twitch. Pretty and silent. You don’t know why the words chafe you, cutting into you as deep as a knife. 

You rise from your chair and grab your near empty plate. 

“I should go clean the kitchen,” you announce with a terse smile.

You don’t look back as you walk away, berating yourself with every step.

This isn’t how one should behave in front of him. But you also don’t think you can spend another second in his presence.

You rub the sponge over the top of the stove, satisfaction trickling inside you as the grease and sauce stains are wiped away. You bask in the calm, concentrated on your task. 

A warm breath tickles the shell of your ear.

“You seemed peeved before.”

Sucking a sharp breath, you whirl on your heels. Your hand spreads over your chest as your vision is filled with the towering frame of President Snow. His stance is relaxed as he peers at you curiously.

“You scared me…President.”

He ignores your reaction, continuing his statement from before, “When we were discussing the next reaping.”

You shake your head. “I wasn’t peeved.”

“Your face, it did that thing.” Your forehead creases. He inches closer. The scent of roses, thick and heady, coats your senses. Your head starts spinning. “Like now. It bothered you.”

Panic flutters through you. This is a man who could have you hanged or jailed for saying the wrong thing. But something about his expression tells you he won’t relent, that he'll only take the truth and nothing else.

So your heart spills out of you.

“In an ideal world, we wouldn’t need the Hunger Games. They are…” You trail off, remembering yourself, who you’re speaking to. You bite down your feelings and go quiet.

But Snow bends over you, crowding your space as your back hits the edge of the stove.

“What? Barbaric? Cruel?” He chuckles and goosebumps rise on your flesh. “But we do need them, dove. Every single year. So the districts never forget their place, and most importantly ours.”

Your lip quakes. Snow’s gaze follows the motion, his lips slanting lopsidedly.

“Such a sweet soul,” he whispers.

He suddenly backs away from you. Air rushes back to your lungs.

“It’s late. I should take my leave. Thank you for a most…enlightening dinner.”

You resume your life and, for a while, everything is normal. Henry doesn’t talk about that night again and neither do you, the both of you bonded by that silent agreement. Maybe he saw Snow talking to you in the kitchen, maybe he didn’t. You’ll never know as he keeps his thoughts to himself, throwing himself into his work and acting like his usual self. 

And if there’s a bit more distance between the two of you in the marital bed, you try not to let it bother you. With time, the strangeness will fade and you and Henry will be back on track, trying for a child and enjoying marital bliss.

Though one evening, things are anything but normal. In fact, the world all but ends.

Your husband peruses the notice letter for rent once more. The blood seems to leave his face.

He runs his fingers through his dark curls.

“I don’t understand.”

Hands resting on his shoulders, your heart skips a beat as you read the neat printed letters.

Rent in your building has doubled overnight. If you and your husband do not pay up by next week, you will be evicted. Houseless.

Hell, you might even be sent back to your district. Your heart plummets to your feet. Your knees buckle underneath you. Henry catches you before you fall, leading you to the sofa as panicked breaths rush through your lungs.

He hunkers in front of you and holds your hands.

“I promise you I’ll find a way. Take out a loan or-”

“A loan we won’t be able to pay back?”

His jaw clenches. “Just let me handle it, okay?”

Though doubts creep inside you, you nod.

The days race along, tension growing each day as the deadline is approaching. Only three days. In just three days, you and your husband will be evicted unless a miracle happens.

And you conclude from the dark circles under Henry’s eyes and the way he barely answers when you speak to him, that he’s as clueless as you are.

There is no solution. Once again, the Capitol and its arbitrary rules strike.

So you come to a decision.

A decision that leads you in front of the biggest mansion in the entire Capitol. President Coriolanus Snow’s house. You suck in a wide lungful, quelling a shudder at the sight of the blue-clad peacekeepers lining the walls.

You stride towards the massive entrance gates. White roses twine around the wrought iron, their thorns seeming as sharp as knives. 

You gather your nerves and lift a tremulous hand towards the intercom.

Before you can even state your matter, a disembodied, feminine voice rises from the device.

“Do you have an appointment?” the woman asks stiffly.

Hasty words pour out of you. “No, but I just need a minute-”

“President Snow doesn’t accept any visitors,” she responds harshly.

Your heart sinks. Of course he doesn’t. It was naive of you to cling to the illusory hope he’d see you anyway. Just for one dinner he likely forgot about. He’s the president. There are crucial matters that perpetually call for his attention. A myriad of things bigger and more important than a single Capitol citizen’s rent issues.

Still, you elect to try again, remembering the imminent deadline.

“Please,” you beg. “It’s very important.”

A distorted sigh ripples from the intercom.

“If you do not leave the premises, we will be compelled to remove you from the property, miss.”

One of the peacekeepers posted at the gates looks straight at you, his hand tightening over the rear of his machine gun. A wave of ice spreads through your veins.

You swallow and step back, accepting your defeat. Burning with shame, you start walking away from the mansion.

But you’re hardly a feet away, as the same voice from before erupts again, much softer this time. 

“My apologies, miss. I didn’t realize you were a close friend of President Snow.”

Your jaw hangs slack as you turn.

A woman with long dark hair appears through the open gates.

“Please, follow me,” she says as she approaches you. “The president will see you right away.”

Still steeped in utter shock, you acquiesce. You trail behind her. You can’t help but allow your eyes to wander as the woman escorts you through a dizzying series of hallways. While the front of the mansion is impressive with its lavish gardens and striking architecture, the inside is just as grandiose. You feel small as your gaze rests on all the sculptures and paintings decorating every corner of the house. Everywhere you look, there is something beautiful and eye-catching. The entire house is like a museum, meant to be admired rather than lived in.

Eventually the woman halts in front of a mahogany door. She tugs on the brass handles and stands to the side, making room for you to walk in. You mumble ‘thank you’ under your breath as you stumble inside the office.

President Snow’s blue eyes crinkle when they rest on you.

“Hello, dove. Why don’t you have a seat?” he offers, pointing at the chair before his desk. 

Licking your lips, you do as he says. Despite the softness of the plush upholstery you sit on, your nerves flare up. You had an entire speech ready, one you practiced on the way here. 

But now that you’re here, his intense focus pinned on you, you’re at a loss. 

Shaky words trickle out of your mouth.

“President Snow. I know you must be so busy…”

“Nonsense,” he interrupts, leaning back in his leather chair. “I always find time for my friends.”

You swallow the lump in your throat.

“T-That’s a relief to hear,” you stammer.

A maid brings a kettle and biscuits on a silver platter. 

“Tea?” Snow asks as he picks up the kettle.

“No, thank you.”

As Snow pours himself a cup, you ponder your next words. You don’t want to seem greedy but you can’t think of an elegant way to state your purpose.

So you settle for the truth.

“I came because…my husband and I are in a bit of trouble.”

Snow scrutinizes you for a while. Your stomach tightens. 

He then gives a sluggish nod, bending forwards as his fingers lace together.

“Do tell me everything, dove.”

You do exactly that. Snow is silent as your trembling voice fills his office. No word leaves his mouth while he listens. You don’t skip out a single detail, making a point to emphasize what consequences could befall upon you and your husband should you fail to meet the deadline. 

When you’re done, he sips from his tea cup and hums, “How unfortunate.”

“Can’t it be undone? I mean, couldn’t you…”

He chuckles along the porcelain rim of his cup. “I’m not responsible for every law and charter. I approve them, of course, but there are committees, councils. Each law serves the betterment of Panem as a whole. I can’t undo what has been done. I mean, how would this look to the rest of the Capitol? Like I have a different set of rules for my friends? I have to look impartial.” Heaving out a deep sigh, he sets his cup down.  “Apologies, dove, my hands are tied.”

The world seems to collapse around you. Your stomach sinks.

You surmise it was too big an ask, even for the President of Panem. You can’t expect special treatment. It was silly of you to even come hoping for anything resembling that.

You were foolish. Now you must collect the pathetic remnants of your dignity and take your leave.

Gulping down the tears pressing at the back of your eyes, you nod. 

“I’m sorry I asked,” you croak, already beginning to rise from your chair.

His deep lilt pauses your motion.

“But I suppose…there could be a solution. An alternative.”

Your brow furrows as you drop back on the chair.

“An alternative?”

“I could cover the difference.”

Your mouth nearly hits the floor. Snow using his own funds to help? It could be the very miracle you and your husband waited for. You would have to pay him back over time, of course. But for now, it would allow you and Henry to keep the apartment.

It’s a godsend.

“You would do that for us?” you mutter, shock stealing your air.

His reply is nonchalant. “Yes. I’d simply file it under my own personal investments.” Slanting his head sideways, he studies you. “I’d just ask for a small favor in exchange.”

“A favor?”

You wonder what kind of favor you could do for someone like Coriolanus Snow, the man who has everything and more. Gaping at him, you wait for him to elaborate.

He leans forward, crossing his arms over his desk.

“It’s not much but it would mean the world to me. The house needs some upkeep. Just a few light chores here and there. No cleaning, of course; I have an entire staff in charge of that. But the garden needs tending.” His inflection softens as he takes you in. “A home cooked meal every now and then would be nice, and I might sometimes ask you to join me for tea and conversation…” Mirth sways in his cerulean orbs. “As dreadful as that may sound.”

You move your head in assent.

“I think I can do that. But w-why me?”

He gives a long exhale, resting his jaw in his hand.

“Honestly dove? You’d be the one doing me a favor. All day, I’m surrounded by vultures.” Snow rolls his eyes skyward. “Sycophants who placate me with false smiles and honeyed lies.” His tone warms when his gaze falls back on you. “I simply wish to return home to someone genuine, someone who would never lie to me. And you wouldn’t, would you?”

“W-What?”

“Lie to me.”

Your skin heats under his scrutiny. 

Trying not to squirm, you sputter, “Never, sir.”

“Music to my ears,” the young president croons.

It’s not sounding like more work than what you do at home. You can already hear Henry’s discontent echoing in your head. You won’t have as much time for him. That too will be yet another adjustment.

But what other option is there? Even the family of four above yours had to move, unable to keep up with the sudden rent increase. You and Henry could be next.

“I…W-When do I start?”

The corners of Snow’s lips tug upwards.

“How does tomorrow sound?”

“You’re going to work for him?”

Henry’s displeasure ripples through you. You twine your hands and cast him an apologetic look. He despises that you went behind his back; you know that. But Henry ran himself ragged trying to come up with a solution. You didn’t want him to carry the burden on his own. That is not what a marriage is.

“He needs a housekeeper, of sorts. And he paid this month’s rent and the next upfront.”

Henry’s brows crumple. “Still, that’s…” Shoulders sagging, he crashes onto the sofa. The built-up exhaustion of the last few days seems to return all at once. You know he hasn’t slept a wink this whole week. Heart squeezing, you join his side and cradle his hand in your lap. Henry’s voice is dripping with shame and regret. “The entire reason I moved us here is so you never have to want for anything, so you wouldn’t have to work or suffer another day in this life.” His head dips. “I failed you.”

You cup his face, plunging your eyes into his.

“You didn’t fail me. And I won’t suffer. Sometimes life throws you lemons and you just have to squeeze those suckers dry.”

A hollow chuckle slips through his lips.

You run your thumbs over his growing beard.

"Listen, I know this wasn’t in our plans, but it’s just for now. In time, we’ll figure something out but I have to do this.” You lean your forehead against his. “For us.”

“Okay,” he belatedly concedes. He pulls your hands to his chest, kissing your knuckles.

“Just come home when you’re done.”

“I will,” you promise. 

The first day slogs forth without a hitch. A car picks you up in the morning and drops you off at President Snow’s estate. The dark-haired woman from before welcomes you, introduces you to the staff and walks you through your duties. You learn her name is Ariadne. 

You spend most of the day busy in the garden and library. Snow’s garden of roses might be one of the hidden treasures of Panem. Taking care of it is a pleasure and you even give yourself some minutes to bask in the sun’s warmth. 

The library shelves need dusting and you tend to this task as well, humming familiar tunes to yourself while working. It is no harm if no one is around to hear you sing. 

You don’t get bored as there’s always a task requiring your attention in the massive house. 

When stars begin to dust the darkening sky, you rush to the kitchen. You get started on dinner. Staff members give you space to work and you’re grateful. You don’t like being ogled while you cook. You marvel at the gold, high-end appliances as you knead your dough. The kitchen is pristine, like everything else in the house. You settle for something simple, hearty and warm. There is no point in pretending you’re some fancy chef when you’re not. If it’s what Snow desired, he’d have hired one. There’s a plethora of them in the Capitol for him to choose from after all. And they’d all line up outside his house in a heartbeat if he requested it.

You stand nervous, hands folded in your lap as the meal you prepared is brought out onto silver plates. You spent hours on it. Hopefully he likes it.

“This smells like heaven,” Snow purrs.

He then points at the chair next to his on the long table.

“Have a seat.”

Your eyes bulge. Not only are you stunned by his request, as there are so many other chairs on the gigantic dinner table, but you were hoping to return home to Henry once dinner was served.

 “Oh, I thought…”

He smiles at you. “I hate dining alone.”

You consider arguing. But as you remember all that you owe him, your mouth squeezes shut. You give a meek nod and drag your feet to the chair.

“Of course.”

You pick up your knife and fork…one of the knives and forks. You choose at random, unsure what purpose each of the cutlery items serves.

A smile waltzes upon Snow’s lips as he watches you. Shame pools in your gut. You feel like you’re making a fool of yourself.

He takes a bite of food and hums low in his throat, his eyes closing.

“Your cooking never fails to amaze, dove,” he lauds. Blue eyes search your face. “Are you hiding other talents from me?”

Your eyes lock onto your napkin, following the swirl of the flower patterns sewn in the corners. “I don’t think so,” you mumble.

Dinner continues in silence, only occasionally shattered by Snow’s sounds of delight and words of praise. Your own bites are small. While you’re glad it turned out the way you wanted, you’d rather save your appetite for home.

When a maid brings tea after the meal, Snow raises a dismissive hand.

“We’ll have tea and cakes in the study,” he announces.

Your face scrunches. “But it’s getting late. I should-”

“I must insist,” he interrupts. He rises from his seat and offers you his outstretched hand. 

His smile broadens.

“You would rob me of your company so swiftly, dove? How cruel of you.”

Reluctantly, you accept the hand he gives you. He helps you out of your chair and motions at you to follow him.

The both of you end up in his study, sitting by the fire. Tea is placed on the small table between you. Coriolanus takes a slow sip while you fiddle with your hands.

His cerulean gaze locks with yours.

“That song you were humming earlier.”

Your chest seizes.

The loud thudding of your heart fills your ears. You swallow thickly. 

“A song?”

“Yes,” he says absently, adding another spoonful of sugar to his cup. He gives a small stir before bringing it to his lips again. “I heard it as I walked by the library.”

You try not to let your panic show, cloaking yourself in false nonchalance. You thought you were discreet, quiet almost.

“Ah, that. It’s nothing,” you elude.

“No, it was lovely. You have the voice of an angel.” 

The compliment leaves you speechless.

But his next words tie your stomach in knots.

“I want to hear it again.”

“I don’t really…perform for audiences.”

“You mean since you left the Covey?”

Mouth agape, you stare at him. How did he find out? You don’t remember ever bringing it up. In fact, you wouldn’t. You expend great effort to hide your past on a daily basis.

Your reaction draws a snort from him. Amusement bounces in his orbs.

“Come on, dove, that accent…It might fool others but not me.”

“I don’t sing anymore,” you state firmly. 

Even if you did, you wouldn’t do it for Coriolanus Snow. Not of your own free will.

He smiles but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His inflection becomes sharp, all softness evanescing. “Remember when I told you that I hated lies?” His pointed gaze sends chills through your body. “Sing for me, dove.”

Your mouth goes dry as sand. 

You understand his words for what they are. An order from your president. A strange order…but an order nonetheless.

You don’t get to refuse. You’re to sing for him, whether it pleases you or not.

Like a bird in a cage.

So you do it. Your lips fall open and clear, soft notes rise out of you. A traditional song your mother taught you. It tells the story of a girl who meets a boy with ocean eyes, how she drowns in them but the fall is like rising to heaven. 

As your voice fills his office, Snow’s scorching gaze doesn’t leave you.

When the song is done, he doesn’t applaud or praise you.

Instead, his eyes bear into you for what feels like an eternity. You try not to move, though your heart thunders in your chest. 

“See, was that so hard?” he asks, that cocky smile still adorning his lips. You don’t reply, your throat ablaze. It felt as if you didn’t belong to yourself just then. And it terrifies you. He slides your untouched cup towards you. “Drink your tea before it gets cold. Then, you can go home.”

Without a protest, you lift the cup to your mouth. One measly cup of tea and you’ll get to go home. Then this uncomfortable evening can end. Finally.

But as the liquid trickles inside your mouth, tendrils of darkness lurk in your vision. Your body gets heavier. So heavy you can’t hold the cup anymore, or even yourself. The porcelain dish vanishes from your hands. You sag into your chair.

Progressively, colors dim around you. 

Then sleep drags you down into a rabbit hole of utter oblivion. And all is blackness.

Softness like you’ve never felt before greets you when you awake. Like being embraced by fluffy clouds. For a while, you linger in the comfortable sensation, humming against the plush blankets. But as your eyes land on the thin slice of sunlight spilling from the window, you unleash an audible gasp. 

You bolt in a sitting position. 

Your eyes widen as you find Ariadne observing you between the velvet curtains at the end of the bed.

Gripping the side of your head, you glance at your surroundings. Clearly, you’re in a room. But how did you wind up here? No matter how hard you try, you can’t summon a single memory from last night.

“Ariadne? What happened?” 

She circles the bed to take a seat next to you. Her gentle tone alleviates your rising panic.

“You fell asleep,” she explains. “Master Snow brought you here so you can get some proper rest.” 

You sigh. It does make sense. Though you can’t stamp out the trickle of embarrassment sitting inside you with that knowledge. You dozed off on the job, on your first day. Hopefully, Snow isn’t too offended. 

“I must have been more tired than I thought,” you mutter, looking down.

“He’s gone now; he had urgent business at the Justice Building. But he insisted you eat a proper meal before you go.” She points at the golden food cart near the bed, every tray brimming with pastries, fruits, meats and cheeses. Way more than you could eat in a single meal.

The kind of decadent abundance the Capitol likes to indulge in. 

You politely decline. 

“I can’t…I have to return to my husband. He must be worried sick.”

Ariadne puts a hand on your arm.

“Word has been sent to him that you were simply tending to Master Snow’s needs last night.”

You purse your lips. It’s not ideal but at least he knows you were working. 

“Good,” you reply, nodding.

You yank the blanket off your body, determined to stand up and leave. But as soon as you’re on your feet, you crash back down on the bed, a strange ache awakening in your limbs.

Your forehead creases. You hug your stomach, a vicious cramp creeping there too.

Ariadne’s immediately at your side, placing her hands over your arms.

“Take it easy, miss,” she warns. “You exerted yourself a great deal yesterday.” She beams brightly. “In fact, Master Snow has given you a few days off. He was very satisfied with your work and expects you in three days’ time.”

Your brows rise. “Oh, that’s very generous.”

Her grin expands.

“He is exceedingly pleased with your performance.”

Over the next few weeks, Snow keeps summoning you sporadically. The days you work for him are pretty much the same. You attend to your daily tasks, you cook for him and then the two of you have tea in his study. He has you sing for him sometimes. You’ve learnt to swallow your feelings and perform according to his whim. You don’t even sing to yourself anymore, the exultation you drew from it all but gone. It was a way to stay connected to your Covey roots, to keep your family close to your heart. Now you can’t do it without his icy gaze invading your thoughts.

You often end up incredibly tired on those days, your body aching and sore for hours afterwards. You never imagined working for Coriolanus Snow would drain you so much. Falling asleep in his house even turns into a regular occurrence, happening almost every time you show up for work.

Naturally, Henry isn’t thrilled with that. Every time you come back home, too tired to wait on him hand and foot like you used to, his displeasure grows.

But he’s also yet to find a way to fix the issue, so the two of you must keep working. You’ve already sold everything that you could, clothes, any belonging of slight value. 

The gap is still too vast. 

And the city won’t allow you to apply for another place to live, claiming the waitlist is already sky-high.

Though you resent it, Coriolanus Snow is your only hope.

“You’re not in charge of dinner tonight,” Ariadne announces one night as you fire the stove.

You turn the burners off, your eyes rounding.

“I’m not?” 

A bright smile blooms on the brunette’s face.

“Master Snow is inviting you to dine with him as his guest, to express gratitude for your outstanding work.”

Your lips part in surprise. In the many weeks you’ve worked for President Snow, this has never happened. You have shared meals, of course, but you’ve never received such a formal invitation.

You suppose it’s all a game to Snow, and he simply changes the rules whenever he feels it.

She astonishes you further when she urges you to follow her to one of the guest bedrooms.

Utter dismay fills you.

A white dress lies atop the bed. The sleeveless evening gown looks more expensive than any dress you’ve ever laid eyes on. The delicate white silk flares at the waist, the gigantic, fluffy layered skirt making your head spin already. You imagine how hard it'd be to move in such a dress. Though you surmise it won’t be too much of a concern as you only need to sit through dinner with it.

“Master Snow expects you to wear this tonight,” Ariadne chimes.

She helps you slip on the dress, a task you undoubtedly would have struggled to complete on your own, the many layers of tulle, silk and lace of the huge skirt alone their own challenge.

Eventually, you’re dressed. 

She escorts you to the dinner room. Curious eyes dart about the halls, noting their unusual emptiness. Not a single footman, maid or Avox in sight. 

You’re alone.

“The house is very quiet,” you point out.

Ariadne beams at you from above her shoulder.

“The entire staff’s been sent home. Master Snow wants to wait on you himself tonight.”

Your stomach knots, a foreboding feeling swelling within you.

Still, you glide forward. It’s a little late to turn back.

When you enter the diner room, Snow’s face lights up. He makes his way to you. As usual, he’s dashing, his platinum blonde locks neatly combed back and his crimson suit highlighting his tall frame.

His gaze twinkles as he drinks you in. 

“You’re a vision, dove.” He lifts your hand and brushes his lips over your knuckles. His eyes slam into yours. Time seems to hang still for a few seconds. “As I know you would be.”

Keeping your hand in his, he escorts you to your seat. He pulls your chair for you and you fumble with your skirt a little before finding a comfortable way to sit. 

“So…no maids today?” you say lightly. 

His lips slant. He removes the lid off one of the pots. The mouthwatering smell instantly reaches you. 

“I thought it’d be nicer to enjoy a quiet, private dinner together, as a way to celebrate.”

Your face contorts into a puzzled expression. 

“Celebrate?”

“Your last day as my housekeeper,” he replies cheerfully.

Your heart misses a beat. Is he firing you?

You attempt to tamp down the quake in your voice. You fail miserably.

“Really?”

He gauges you and his smile grows.

“Yes. In fact, you and your husband will never have to worry about rent anymore. Him  especially. Everything’s settled.”

An audible exhale slips through your mouth. 

“This is…I don’t know what to say.”

“You can say thank you.”

“Thank you, President Snow.”

His laugh resonates in the near empty dining room.

“Please, call me Coriolanus.” He ladles soup onto your plate before bending close. You tense as his warm breath ghosts over your temple. “We’re quite…close now, aren’t we, dove?”

You gulp down the lump in your throat.

“I suppose we are…Coriolanus.”

You wince. Uttering his name feels wrong, forbidden almost.

Satisfaction doesn’t part from his handsome features as he regains his seat. He gestures for you to start eating. You feel a bit self-conscious as he observes you intently. 

Still, you do as he heeds, not needing to be told twice. 

The quicker you eat, the quicker you’ll get to be home and out of the uncomfortable dress. 

You groan as your lids flutter, a blurry shape rocking back and forth in your vision. Fatigue tugs at your heavy limbs as you stir. Your forehead scrunches. Your body’s hot, like a furnace, like you’re burning from the inside out. Tingles spark somewhere in you and you keen sharply, leaning into the sensation. Feverish whispers surround you, words you don’t comprehend in your daze.

The pull and tear. The pleasure mingling with the pain. You’re in a strange dream, maybe a nightmare.

Deep-chested grunts land in your ears. You awake further. It’s a voice you recognize, from somewhere…but not like this. Never like this. Something’s wong. Your forehead wrinkles. Something’s wrong but you’re so tired. So so tired. Your mind’s like cotton. Your limbs are as rocks.

As your lids sag, something slams into you. Fast, hard and vicious.

Your heart bounces. Your eyes snap open.

Your stomach drops.

A sinister smile you know too well by now welcomes you.

“Hello, dove. Awake, finally,” Snow whispers, his hips snapping into yours. Your breath catches as his cock grazes against your sweet spots. You clench around him and he chuckles darkly. “That angle always does it for you.” Smugness oozes off his hoarse timbre.

You look up at him. Sweat dots his brow, his tousled blonde locks clinging to his forehead. His blue eyes are cloudy with lust. His white shirt is half open, revealing a glimpse of the bare, glistening muscles underneath.

And as your gaze travels lower, horror flares inside you.

You gape with wide eyes as his veiny length disappears inside you. Again and again. The fluffy white shirt is bunched around your waist, your panties torn, exposing your lower body to President Snow’s lewd scrutiny entirely. His large hands dig into your hips, trailing crescent bruises in the shape of his fingernails.

Your shocked gaze finds his.

His smile expands.

“P-President Snow, what are you doing?” 

You know it’s a stupid question…but you have to make sense of this. Because none of this can be real. Maybe it’s a nightmare and you’re still sleeping.

You gasp as he pushes you into the mattress, piledriving into you at an angle that has you seeing stars.

“Taking what’s mine, of course,” he says matter-of-factly, hooking his arm under your thigh.

He lifts you and spreads you even more. His darkened gaze follows the motion of his cock as he pounds into you, an insatiable look twisting his handsome features. 

Reaching between your tangled bodies, he pinches your tender heap of nerves. He rubs against it, teasing it with maddening circles until your legs quake. You come apart beneath him, crying out as your back arches against the soft sheets.

“Please, stop,” you whimper, tears gathering in your eyes.

Snow’s pace quickens. Ragged moans tear from your throat. Your vision flickers.

He bends over you to lick one of your tears, humming in satisfaction at the taste. 

His lips drag against yours as he asks, “Is it truly what you want? Because it’s kind of hard to tell the way your pussy hugs my cock.” His mouth curves upward against your cheek. “Like it does every time.”

A wave of ice spreads through you. 

Every time? Realization hits you, knife-like as it pierces through the veil of denial. 

Every time…

The pieces fall into place as you remember all those times you fell asleep, unable to recall how you ended up in bed. Tired, confused…sore.

A shudder shoots through your frame.

You twist your body as panic seizes you.

Coriolanus growls when you clamber away from him, heading for the edge of the bed. You curse the pesky gown and the way it hinders your movements.

He yanks you back with ease, gripping the back of your head and shoving you down into the mattress.

Lips graze your earshell as he snarls, “Where are you going? We’re not done. We have to make sure you carry the next Snow heir.” In one stroke, he sinks into you from behind. You choke on your breath, the pain snatching your air. With one hand cinched around the back of your neck, he starts rutting into you. Your bruised folds ache at the blunt invasion. Still, your core clings to him in a way that stirs shame in your gut. “Although after all these times…” You hear the smile in his conceited inflection “It’s a given, isn’t it?”

Your eyes swell with tears. Your lips part in a silent scream. The sick song of flesh against flesh fills the room, mingling with his feral moans. 

Each time your walls tighten around him, bile rises up your throat. 

“What have you done to me?” you sob against the drenched silk sheets.

“Oh, I think you know,” he purrs. His warm breath fans over your scalp. “You can feel it, can’t you? How well your body knows me now, dove.”

His hips stutter, his thrusts getting sloppier. His cock twitches inside you. As warmth trickles alongside your walls, you feel sick again. He remains nestled inside you a while, panting above you and shoving the excess back in as you remain still.

As you feel his digits poke and prod, a chill runs through you. 

You can’t let him touch you again.

You keel over the edge of the bed, heading straight towards the floor. Pain ripples through your knees as they hit the carpet. You’re forced to ignore the crack resounding through your bones, awkwardly getting to your feet and dashing to the wooden swing doors.

Coriolanus’ wicked laugh echoes behind you. 

“Oh, dove, if you wanted to play hide and seek, all you needed to do was to ask,” he taunts.

Terror grips your throat. You ignore it alongside everything else. Alongside the pain, alongside the uncertainty, alongside the fact that you can still feel him inside you. Like you never left the bed. Like you’re still caged in his embrace.

Your legs carry you, barefoot and panicked, as you run through the palatial hallways as fast as the bothersome white dress will allow.

The president’s deep voice bounces against the ornate walls.

“Ready or not, here I come, my darling.”

The blood rushes to your feet. Your head spins and your feet tangle. You trip. Immediately, you gather yourself. You lift the skirt and dive hastily towards the living room. You duck behind a sofa. 

It’s a pathetic place to hide; you know it. But the lavish mansion is nothing but open spaces doused in sunlight. 

There is nowhere to hide.

The clamor of your heart is deafening in your ears as you hear objects crash to the floor a few feet away from you. Hand over your mouth to keep every sound in, you jerk every time the racket grows on the other side of the sofa. 

His frustration coats the air.

“Come out, come out wherever you are, dove,” he calls, his tone icier than before.

You freeze, holding your breath and wishing he doesn’t think to look where you are.

The minutes pass, agonizingly slow. The flimsy hope that he may have left even begins to bloom inside you.

Hot air suddenly breezes over your nape.

“Found you.” 

Your heart leaps to your throat. You go still. Coriolanus hauls you from the floor, half-carrying you and half-lugging you across the living room. You try to bite and claw any part of him you can reach but his hand locks around your throat.

He slams you harshly against a wall. Your head rings, the lines of his face momentarily doubling in your vision. You bite his hand. Cursing under his breath, he bangs your head against the wall again. You go limp.

Through your hazy sight, you note the scarlet trail streaking the back of his hand. You drew blood. Even if you’re lost, you bask in the ephemeral second of victory.

He carries your unmoving form the rest of the way back to his bedroom. You loathe yourself for your stillness. You want to put up a fight. You want to claw. You want to bite. You want to kill him with your bare hands. 

But all you can do is simmer in helplessness as he brings you right back to the very place you tried to escape.

He gently releases you on the bed then climbs over you. Goosebumps erect on your flesh as he caresses the side of your face, a strangely fond gesture considering everything he put you through.

“Please,” you mumble weakly. “You can have anyone you want. I have a husband.”

His face contorts into an expression of pure mockery, as if what you said was beyond ludicrous.

“I don’t want just anyone.” He lifts your chin, scorching blue gaze diving into yours. “I want you.”

“As for your husband…” His voice trails off as he traces your trembling bottom lip with his thumb. A crooked smirk drags his lips skyward. He leans over you to whisper, “Well I did say he’ll never have to worry about rent ever again, didn’t I?”

Your heart sinks. You can’t believe you trusted Coriolanus Snow. A foolish mistake. A dangerous mistake. One you’re now paying dearly. He not only trapped you…he also hurt Henry.

All because of you.

You will never forgive yourself.

“What did you do to him?” you ask, anger and heartbreak making your voice wobble.

A chill-inducing glint dances in his orbs.

“I haven’t done anything.” He cocks his head. “Rebels are criminals of the state and shall be sentenced as such.”

The world collapses around you.

A chasm of despair swallows you whole as quiet tears stream down your face.

As sobs shake your frame, President Snow plants soft kisses on your wet cheeks. You feel him grow hard against your belly as he hums, as if the taste of your hopelessness was ambrosia to him. Heavenly sweet.

He cups your face.

“Do not fret, dove. I’ll make sure you don’t miss a second of his execution.” The emptiness of his blue eyes staggers you, their depths as icy as a frozen lake. “It’s important for all citizens of Panem to learn from watching.”

The expression on his face turns downright diabolical. His knuckles sweep over the apple of your cheek.

“And I want you to learn as you watch the light go out in his eyes, dove, that this was inevitable, that I always win.”

His tone softens as his hands drag over your hips.

“I wonder how many children you’ll give me. Will they all sing as pretty as you?” The hurried rustle of his pants as he frees his cock freezes your blood. He bites his lip, lust already misting his gaze as he prods impatiently at your entrance.

“I suppose we’ll just have to find out,” he croons.

[lazycats-stuff]

been thinking of a batbro bimbo reader who isn't yet fully aware of his family's identitys but is a vigilante too. Thinking of him getting flirted on and the other's getting protective. Especially the younger siblings (Ex: Damian)

Oh Damian is going to kill them. Blade out and everything. Also, I think you thought about writing a himbo. Also, I don't know which gif to put so enjoy a storm lol.

Summary: (Y/N) is a bit stupid, but very nice. He is oblivious to a lot of stuff and his siblings are protective of him.

Warnings: (Y/N) is stupid and sweet at the same time, adorable (Y/N), protective everybody, especially Damian.

Bruce often wondered how (Y/N) managed to survive for this long. Looks are often deceiving, he knows that very well. He always expected the unexpected and (Y/N) was certainly something of that sort. You know how you expect big people to be cold and just rude over all?

(Y/N) is sweet beyond belief and Bruce wonders how he survived for so long as a vigilante. But there is another problem too. (Y/N) sometimes has problems seeing when he is being flirted with and overall, sometimes slow with catching up.

What kind of scared Bruce was the fact that (Y/N) still didn't... Kind of... Connect the dots with their identities. Bruce often kept an eye out on (Y/N) during patrol or missions. Always. Everyone also kept an eye on their brother.

They all loved (Y/N) and they all just wanted to make sure that he is okay. He is far too adorable and kind for this world. That is a conclusion that everyone has reached. Even Damian. Damian is the one who is the most protective of him.

(Y/N) found a way to channel his kindness. Bruce helped him set up a few organizations to help the youth on the streets, homeless people in general and one for mental health problems.

Well, more (Y/N) and Tim. (Y/N) is the face of those charities and Tim has agreed to help out behind the scenes. He never minded doing it for his brother and it's for a good cause so he didn't mind to help with the financial stuff.

(Y/N) has tried to do it on his own, but he just hated paperwork. Bruce and Tim sympathized with (Y/N), knowing how paperwork could be shit. Tim loved working with (Y/N). More so than with Bruce. But Bruce will never know it.

(Y/N) is often considered by Gotham City as their baby on social media and he is famous because of it. Well, because of his kindness and other moments that social media would say is iconic. Gotham loved him and (Y/N) would often go in his vigilante suit to see little kids all year round in the hospitals in Gotham and sometimes elsewhere.

(Y/N) loved doing it and loved seeing kids smile. Some were just so beaten down that by being in a hospital and seeing them smile so much made (Y/N)'s day.

Damian is often considered as (Y/N)'s bodyguard on galas. Of course, there are many people who consider (Y/N) handsome. Unfortunately, (Y/N) can't see those advances and that's where Damian has stepped in. Always.

If (Y/N) is going to be in a relationship, it's going to be with someone who looks past his looks. Many who tried to woo him did so because of his looks. Not because of him and personality.

Damian often stepped in, making excuses for (Y/N) as to why he couldn't. And then the man would be met with an icy glare.

Now, the public loved (Y/N) even more when they saw how he treated women. How respectful he is... The female population of Gotham City have lost their minds. There was a viral moment where (Y/N) was seen giving his umbrella to a lady after a heavy rain started. He was soaked afterwards, but at least he did something nice.

There is a plethora of responses from men, but once (Y/N) came out as gay, those men weren't afraid of not getting anymore dates. The women of Gotham were sad, but there was nothing that they could do.

Dick and Jason were also protective of (Y/N), but not to the degree where Damian is. Nowhere near. But did they always keep an eye on him? Yes. That's their brother, how could they not. They loved him, but they knew that the couldn't protect him like Damian does.

Damian is on a whole another level.

Galas are often considered the most stress inducing thing that happens a few times a year. Nobody liked to attend galas in the family, not even Bruce, but they had to due to appearances they had to.

(Y/N) didn't mind it. Now, galas are often the time when Damian was vigilant around (Y/N). Bruce didn't say anything to Damian about being protective. In fact, it made Bruce happy, knowing that he didn't have to be constantly vigilant over (Y/N).

Damian is his second in command when it came to (Y/N)'s protection. Damian is often subtle in the way he is vigilant. Often. He never outright stood next to (Y/N), but he was always close enough to step in.

Always.

As of now, (Y/N) was making his way to the bar to get a drink. Damian watched him from the buffet table. He watched everyone else in the room, seeing if anyone was looking at (Y/N). And he did find someone.

He was looking at (Y/N) with something in his eyes that made Damian pissed. He knew that look very well and it wasn't to talk to (Y/N) about his charities. Damian waited for a moment to see if his suspicions are right.

And when was Damian wrong? Never.

He wanted to scoff at the predictability of these guys. They are really predictable. He watched for a moment more, but when he saw how the man smiled at his brother, it was go time. He swiftly put some food on the plate, (Y/N)'s favorite and quickly went to the bar where the two were.

" Hey (Y/N), here is some food that I know you love. " Damian said, bringing (Y/N)'s attention to himself.

" Oh really? Thanks Damian. "

" No problem and Bruce told me he needs to talk to you. " Damian said and quickly glanced at Bruce who nodded subtly.

" Oh? Well, I will talk to you later then. " (Y/N) said as he turned to his 'suitor' and then took the food that Damian brought and then walked off. The moment that (Y/N) couldn't see them, Damian glares at the man.

" I wouldn't try it if I were you. " Damian said as he glared at the man.

" And what is a kid like you going to do? " The man said and Damian had to smirk at the arrogance.

" I know who you are. I know that your father wants to make a deal with my father. And I can always put a word in about you. And let me tell you, father is very protective of (Y/N) and he is not going to like the fact that you are just trying to sleep with him. "

The man tried to defend himself, but deep down he knew that Damian was spot on.

" Now, I wouldn't really try to flirt with him anymore. Not to mention, there are 3 more brothers that will kick your ass in different ways if you try to. " Damian said as he walked off, trying not to smirk once more.

He can't smirk or (Y/N) will see something. Who said that galas could be boring when you can threaten your brother's suitors? Dick and Jason gave him a thumbs up from a far. Tim and Bruce shook their heads quietly. Damian walked up to (Y/N) and gave him a quick hug.

Nobody messes with (Y/N) Wayne. Nobody.

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

One Last Lesson

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader

Word Count: 3.8k

Warnings: okay so there's some switching on both sides but mostly dom!Spence, oral (f receiving), age gap (reader is over 21), teasing, pet names, marking a lot, p in v sex, praise/minor body worship, yk I love some dirty talk so- that's there, multiple orgasms, riding, marking- I hope I got everything??

Genre: Just fluff, Just smut

Summary: It's been a year, Spencer is yours, but it seems someone just won't back off at the alumni gala

A/N: I wasn't planning on a Pt. 3 for this yall it was a duology lmao- I saw the demand but I had nowhere to take it; so you can thank @shan-yee because their comment inspired the continuation of this saga :)

***

Spencer walks over to you and places his hands on either side of the counter you're sitting on. You're spending the night at his place and right now he's cooking dinner.

"You know, it's been almost a year now." He says kissing your neck.

"Since what exactly?" You ask him.

"Since you graduated is what I meant, but also since we made it official technically." Spencer squeezes your hand and then grabs a spatula from a drawer and walks back over to the stove.

"Oh yeah, we're a few months off from it I suppose." You hum.

"The alumni gala is this weekend. Do you- plan on going?"

"It's this weekend? Really? I didn't even realize."

"Oh." He says, his back is facing you but you're positive he's leading up to something and that answer didn't give him the lead up he was hoping for.

"Why are you asking?" You smile.

"Well I was thinking that if you were planning to go we could go together. I mean I'll be there regardless but like- it'd be nice to go as a couple. If you wanted to do that." He shrugs.

"Do you want me there Spence?" You ask.

"Of course I do. I always want you by my side."

"Then I'll go. We'll go. As a couple."

"You're sure?"

"Why wouldn't I be?" You frown. Spencer turns around to look at you.

"Well you know, I don't want you to be uncomfortable if people say-"

"I don't give a fuck what anyone might have to say. I like you Spencer, I like being with you. Nobody's random opinion is gonna make me stop feeling that way." You shrug. Spencer's eyes soften, adoration shining in them.

"Okay." He smiles.

"Oh, but when we go we should change the timeline a little." You say.

"What do you mean?"

"Instead of telling them we've been together almost a year, tell them it's only been a couple of months." You shrug.

"So if we've only been together a couple of months what's like- the rest of our story?"

"Well we can say we ran into each other at a bar a few months ago, got talking, and realized we had a lot in common- decided to see where things go and it's been great so far."

"Okay." He nods.

"I know you don't particularly like lying but it's for you. I don't want anyone doubting the ethics of our relationship and calling into question your job. So stick to that story and try not to oversell it with details. The more complex the harder it is to keep things straight."

"Well, what if they ask for details?"

"I can't imagine we'll spend a lot of time apart at the gala so chances are I'll be there to handle that for you but if you find yourself alone and they ask you something you don't want to risk complicating- just tell them 'things are still new and you don't wanna risk jinxing anything' and then find a way to change the subject to literally anything else."

"Things are still new and I don't wanna risk jinxing it- okay sure. You're a- good liar."

"I've thought about it before, in case anyone started asking questions- at least for the next few years. After a while, no one will care but you know, for now. I don't want you to lose your job or anything because of me." You shrug. Spencer walks over to you and tilts your head up to look at him. He kisses you sweetly and quickly.

"That's sweet of you to be that concerned about it but you shouldn't stress too much about my job." Spencer says.

"I know, I know, but I care about you, Spence. Of course, I'll worry about that sort of thing."

"You're so cute." He chuckles, returning to the stove to finish cooking dinner.

"Yeah, I know." You say jokingly, making him laugh harder. A few minutes later, dinner is finished and you move from your spot on the counter to the living room to eat and watch TV with him.

~*~*~

When the day of the gala comes around that weekend, you spend more time getting ready than you usually would. Your dress is a gold floor-length number with no sleeves and a dangerously high slit. You pair it with black lace gloves just because you can and your makeup is killer if you do say so yourself. Not that you have to, Spencer's reaction when he comes to pick you up is more than enough confirmation that you look drop dead.

"Woah." He breathes out, his eyes wide.

"Hello to you too Spence." You chuckle stepping into the hall and locking your apartment door.

"I- hey. You look stunning baby."

"Thanks, you don't look too bad yourself love." You wink at him as you loop your arm through his. He's wearing a black dress shirt with gold detailing which you didn't know he was planning on wearing when you picked your dress but how convenient that you match. You notice he's forgone a tie and left the top couple of buttons undone and part of you wants to skip the gala altogether, but you got all pretty so to the gala you will go.

By the time you arrive, it seems the event is already in full swing, the hall is full of familiar and unfamiliar faces between faculty, alumni, and current students- who apparently are welcome and encouraged to attend these things. In fact, you're barely there for 10 minutes before some of your former classmates get a hold of you and drag you away from Spencer. So much for being together most of the night. It's fine, you remind yourself, he's a big boy, plus he's got his script. You focus on the conversation you're part of, a few guys and girls from your department are playing catch up, everyone sharing the most important news from their lives post graduation. 

You find yourself in several more of those kinds of conversations with various groups of people over the next hour or so. Side effect of being half part of so many social groups during college you suppose. Every once in a while you steal glances at Spencer, who mostly seems to be enjoying himself with his colleagues. You know Spencer was expecting this night to be a sort of debut for your relationship at his job so you wanted to be with him most of the night but maybe this is fine, him with his people and you catching up with friendly acquaintances you haven't seen in a while.

Just as you're settling with that idea you catch Professor Greene beelining towards Spencer and you can't help the internal eye roll when she walks up to him with a megawatt smile. You split your attention between the conversation you're currently part of and Spencer's interaction with Professor Greene. With things official between you and Spencer, you're much less worried about her honestly but you watch Spencer for signs of discomfort so you can rescue him if needed. You haven't heard much of her from Spencer since your little stunt last year with the hickeys so you're surprised to see her so friendly with Spencer. When you catch her place a hand on Spencer's arm and he awkwardly breaks the contact you decide to step in.

"I am- so sorry to cut this conversation short, I just- it looks like I need to rescue my date from a conversation he absolutely does not want to be part of but I will find you again to finish this before the night ends okay?" You tell Jordan, a friend of yours who you had classes with literally every semester of university.

"Girl don't even worry about it go save your man." He chuckles waving you off.

"Thank you babes, if I don't catch you again tonight, I'll just text you." You rush out before making your way over to Spencer and Professor Greene. You keep your pace light so as to not look vexed but you reach them rather quickly.

"Spencer! There you are! I've been looking for you." You smile, placing your hands on his arm gently. He relaxes with you at his side, matching your smile with one of his own. You turn to Professor Greene, still tucked against Spencer's side. "You're Professor Greene, right? I'm y/n." You stick an arm out to shake her hand and she takes it albeit a little hesitantly.

"Have we met before?" She asks with a curious frown.

"Not formally." You smile.

"I'm- gonna grab a drink. Y/n, do you want anything?" Spencer asks.

"I'll have a mojito if they can make one. If not then I'll just grab champagne from one of the trays floating around the room." You tell him.

"Professor Greene? Would you- like anything?"

"No thanks, Spencer." She says with a tight smile.

"Okay well you two wait here, I'll be back in a sec." He says jogging off. You can't help but smile as you watch him go.

"He's so sweet." You say before you can stop yourself.

"Oh that's cute." Professor Greene says.

"Sorry?" You turn to her.

"Are you one of Spencer's students?"

"No, I've graduated. Almost a year ago now. Why do you ask?"

"Well, it's just- perhaps I'm assuming but it seems like you have a bit of a crush on him." She says and you can't help the surprised chuckle you let out.

"Excuse me?" You ask with a smile.

"I'm not judging or anything. It's cute and totally not unusual! That's why I asked if you were one of his students, I mean- not that anything would come of it but having a crush on your professor and all is pretty common despite the- taboo around it. I one hundred percent get it." She explains.

"Oh, do you? You get it? See- the thing I get is that you have a bit of a crush on that professor but I'm fucking that professor so I'm not sure you one hundred percent get it seeing as we are not in the same boat." You say, your tone deceptively cheery.

"Excuse me?" She blinks at you incredulously.

"I'm not daft Professor Greene and neither is Spencer- it's quite obvious you fancy him which is totally not unusual and not that anything would come of it but I one hundred percent get it. See you don't need to placate to me because I'm the person he came here with. I'm the person he'll be leaving with." You say. Professor Greene's eyes narrow for a moment before widening.

"Wait no you have definitely been a student of his, I remember you. A plucky thing- sat in the front row."

"Surprised I left an impression." You cross your arms.

"Spencer always seemed particularly concerned with you."

"I was his best student." You shrug.

"Oh I'm sure you were. Extra credit will do that." She scoffs.

"I didn't need to suck his dick to be the best in his class I'm just that good. We only started seeing each other a couple of months ago not that it'd really make a difference he still wasn't interested in you at any point. You'd think by now you'd get the hint." You say and she levels you with another glare.

"Did you know they make flavored mojitos? The guy at the bar asked me what flavor you wanted. You didn't mention a flavor but I know you like passionfruit so I hope that's okay." Spencer's arrival doesn't break the tension between you and Professor Greene but you shoot him a sweet smile as you take the drink from him.

"Passionfruit's perfect baby, thank you." You tell him. "I was just telling Professor Greene here about how we got together."

"Yeah, Spencer, I didn't know you had a girlfriend!" Professor Greene says with a smile that's too wide to be genuine.

"Oh! Well, yeah things are still pretty new, I haven't made it a point to go around announcing it. Plus it's not like we're close or anything." Spencer shrugs and puts an arm around you casually, pulling you closer to him.

"Well yeah I know I know it's just- well that's kind of a big deal, isn't it? A girlfriend. You've got a bit of a bachelor reputation you know." She says and you let out a sharp disbelieving laugh.

"Do I? That's news to me." Spencer looks at you with a chuckle.

"Oh you know what I mean Spence."

"Not really but I guess it doesn't matter. I'm pretty private about these things, even though I'm obsessed with her."

"Aw you're so cute." You gush with a hand on his chest.

"Well you do make quite an interesting pair. If you'll excuse me, I see Darla and I've been trying to track her down all night so I'll leave you to each other." Professor Greene dismisses herself and rushes off to start another conversation elsewhere.

"'I didn't need to suck his dick to the best in his class'? Are you insane?" Spencer turns to face you with an incredulous smile on his face.

"To be fair it didn't start there!" You say.

"Oh yeah? Give me the breakdown."

"You left and she made a snide comment about me having a crush on my professor that 'wouldn't go anywhere', I got a little snippy with her and then she implied the only reason I was one of your favorite students is because you were screwing me but like I'm smart I don't need to fuck you for an A I already had one before you even touched me so- I was basically just telling her that."

"When you say a little snippy-"

"I honestly don't think you want to know." You shake your head.

"What did you say to her?"

"TLDR, I told her she has a crush on you and I am fucking you so we're not really in the same boat which was- probably escalating but she started it by trying to patronize me." You shrug and Spencer sighs though you can see his shoulders shake in silent laughter.

"You are-" he stops to laugh again. "Incredible."

"Thank you baby." You smile.

"Honestly that was very uncomfortable but I will admit there was something... captivating about that battle of wits you had going on." His head dips to press a kiss to your neck.

"Captivating huh." You hum.

"Yeah, you're hot when you get all territorial." He smiles down at you.

"You're saying that now because this time I didn't take it out on you." You chuckle.

"I mean, I certainly wouldn't have been against walking in tonight covered in hickeys like last time." He mutters.

"Naughty boy. Keep that up and we'll have to leave early you know." You muse.

"I mean I've spoken to everyone here I need to talk to." Spencer's hand slides down over your ass for a moment.

"So worked up so quickly."

"Come on princess, let's get out of here. I owe you one hell of a thank you for dealing with Professor Greene." Spencer mutters in your ear trying to sway you.

"If we're going to leave early, you'd better make it worthwhile professor." You tell him pulling him through the party towards the exit. He stops you just outside the hall to pull you into a kiss.

"Don't I always?" He winks at you and takes the lead then, walking you to his car and helping you into the passenger side. Once he pulls out of the parking lot, you put a hand dangerously high on his leg, rubbing up and down his thigh 'absentmindedly', watching the way his fingers grip the steering wheel tighter with each passing moment. At red lights, you lean over to kiss and nip at different spots on his neck, you didn't mark him up before going out but there's no reason you can't do it now. By the time you're back at Spencer's apartment, you can tell your teasing did exactly what you wanted when he rushes you through the lobby and into the elevator. He hardly lets the elevator doors close before he corners you against one of the walls. Spencer kisses you, rough and hot, his hands gripping your upper arms.

"You'll be the death of me one of these days." He breathes out. The elevator doors open then and you drag your fingertips up his thigh with a dangerous smirk before getting off. You can hear him let out a harsh breath before he follows you to the door. Spencer unlocks the door and lets you in, barely shutting the door before he pulls you against him in another searing kiss. One of your hands tangles in Spencer's hair tugging lightly which he rewards with a grunt and a nip at your lip. Eventually, you pull away from him, grabbing his chin a bit to tilt his head out of the way of his neck.

"Hm- they're not great but- by the end of the night I'll mark you up so well it'll be like a signed my name on you." You hum kissing him again.

"Whatever you want princess. Tonight's about thanking you, any particular way you want me to show my gratitude? Because personally, I'd like to peel this dress off of you and bury my tongue between your folds." Spencer mutters, trailing soft kisses across your neck and shoulders.

"That- that sounds like a great way to start." You say.

"Perfect." Spencer pulls you down the hall into his bedroom. His hands drag down your arms, pushing the sleeves off and subsequently dropping your dress to the ground. He lets one hand grab onto yours to help you step out of the dress and immediately drops to his knees in front of you. Spencer pulls one of your legs onto his shoulders, grips the back of your thighs tightly, and buries his head between them. You jolt forward as his tongue swipes through your folds, catching your clit and you tangle your fingers in his hair to steady yourself.

"Oh god." You gasp as Spencer pushes his tongue inside you, thrusting in and out, caressing your walls all while moaning at the taste of you and the feeling of you pulling his hair. Spencer can feel your legs start to shake and tightens his hold on your thighs when he drags his tongue up to focus on your clit. "Fuck!" You squeak, actually squeak, when Spencer flicks at the bundle of nerves with practiced precision that has you trembling in his hands. 

"Spence." You moan his name in warning, your orgasm building quickly. He increases the pressure slightly, just enough to push you over the edge with a cry, your fingers tightening in his hair, holding him against you as you ride out your orgasm against his mouth. As the aftershocks of your release ease, Spencer eagerly laps up the juices flowing from you, his nose brushing your clit with each draw of his tongue. You gasp when Spencer hooks his arm under your leg still draped over his shoulder and presses his hand at the small of your back as he wraps his lips around your clit and sucks harshly on the little button. You jerk against his ministrations but his hold is steady- even as he releases your other leg to bury two fingers between your walls. He pumps the digits quickly and you can feel another orgasm building.

"Holy- shit that feels good." You whimper and you feel Spencer smile around your clit for a moment before he continues to suck on it feverishly. Spencer pulls your second orgasm from you so quickly that you don't even realize how close it is until you're screaming from the force of it. Spencer works you through it, his fingers slowing but not stopping until your walls ease up against them. He gazes up at you as he licks his fingers clean before kissing just below your belly button. He kisses his way up your body, hands trailing over your skin until he's at his full height.

"One hell of a thank you baby." You say breathlessly. Spencer laughs and leans down to kiss you, cupping your face with his clean hand. You use the time to pull his shirt free and undo the buttons, then focus on his pants, tugging off the belt and shoving the slacks down his legs. You let Spencer walk you back towards the bed and lay back when your legs hit the edge of it. You watch as Spencer finishes undressing himself and crawls over you.

"I'm not done thanking you yet princess." Spencer says kissing your neck. He lines himself up with your entrance and sinks in with one thrust. He groans against your skin at the feeling of your wet heat engulfing him. "If I believed in heaven this would be it." He breathes out and you giggle a bit. That is until Spencer cocks his hips back and rocks them into you pulling a moan from your lips effectively ending your giggle fit. Spencer sets a dangerous rhythm of sharp, deep thrusts that have your back arching off the bed.

"So good- Spence, feel so good inside me baby." You moan, your nails marking angry red lines down his back as he takes you.

"I know princess- fuck I know." He grunts reveling in the sting of your fingers clawing at him. Spencer can feel his balls tightening as you drip down his shaft and he leans back to toy with your swollen clit. The sudden extra stimulation has whines and mewls falling freely from you as your third orgasm rushes you. The feel of your walls spasming around him sends Spencer into a frenzy, his thrusts becoming erratic as he chases his own release. Your mind clears just in time to catch the signs of his impending orgasm and you muster enough strength to flip Spencer onto his back. He blinks at you in shock but only for a moment as you start riding him and his face scrunches up in pleasure. Spencer throws his head back and you lean forward to darken the hickeys you left earlier and add more as promised. He lets out a string of curses and grips the sheets so tightly you think he might tear them as you bounce up and down his length. When you feel his muscles clench beneath your hands you sit up, examining the marks now covering his neck. You're more than satisfied with them. You thread your fingers into Spencer's hair and tug, forcing him to look at you.

"I wanna watch your face when I make you cum Spence. Don't look away." You tell him sharply. Spencer tries to nod but your hand in his hair stops him.

"O-Okay. F-fuck, whatever you want- please just let me cum." He begs.

"Go ahead baby." You tell him and that's all it takes for him to let go, hot ropes painting your inner walls.

"I was supposed to be expressing gratitude here." Spencer says after a few moments of silence, when his breathing is settled.

"I feel plenty thanked don't worry love. It's way more fun having you beg me to cum anyway." You say turning your head where you lay just enough to kiss his chest. Spencer lets out a small disbelieving chuckle and you can feel him shake his head as his hand strokes down your back.

"I love you." He says.

"I love you too." You say with a smile. How lucky you are, to have your crush work out so perfectly. Although if you ask Spencer who the lucky one is he'll surely say it's him. Luck is the only explanation for him to now have the object of his desires for months in his arms like this every night. Thank goodness you called him out that day in his office, or he'd have never gotten this far.

***

Part 2

Tagged Users: @regulus-black-223048, @perkypink19-blog, @p0ssywhippedcream

[storyscribeforthesentiment]

The Detective & The Dark Knight - Chapter 4

Summary: Detective Marie Manning, investigating a series of brutal m*rders in Gotham, crosses paths with the mysterious Batman. As they work together, their mutual respect turns into a deep, passionate bond. Amidst danger and corruption, their unlikely partnership evolves into a profound love, forever changing their lives in Gotham’s dark corners.

Pairing: Batman/Bruce Wayne x f! main character

Author’s note: Prepare for soft Bruce getting in his feels over Marie. They go on a date, Marie overthinks their relationship (bestie needs to chill), and she nearly gives Batman a heart attack when she puts herself in danger. This is my favorite chapter so far! 

Word count: 4k

Warnings/tags: mentions of murder, mentions of police bribes, fighting

Marie Manning’s apartment was bathed in a warm, amber glow as she moved around, preparing for her date with Bruce Wayne. She hadn’t ever expected to find herself in this situation, but here she was, picking out an outfit and checking the clock every few minutes. 

The doorbell rang, and Marie jumped, almost knocking over a nearby stack of case files. She hurried to the door, smoothing down her satin dress and taking a deep breath.

“Hey, Detective Manning.” Bruce greeted with his signature charm, holding out a bouquet of tulips. “These are for you.”

Marie’s face lit up. “Oh, thank you Bruce, that’s really sweet. You definitely didn’t have to. Come on in.”

Bruce took a moment to truly see Marie, appreciating her as she was—without the gala gown or her usual detective gear. She stood tall, her long dark hair cascading in soft curls down her back, and her brown eyes, usually so intense and focused, now seemed to hold a softer, more vulnerable light.

He had recognized her beauty during their first encounter at the docks. There was a raw, captivating charm about her, a blend of strength and grace that made his heart ache with admiration.

Bruce stepped inside and took in the stacks of paperwork and case files scattered about. His gaze landed on Marie’s cat, lounging comfortably on a pile of files.

“You really do have a cozy setup here,” Bruce said, nodding toward the cat.

Marie laughed as she arranged the flowers in a vase. “‘Cozy’ is one way to put it. I prefer ‘organized chaos.’”

Marbles stretched lazily before heading over to Bruce and rubbing against his leg. Bruce smirked. “I see your cat’s already made himself comfortable with me. Is that a sign of approval?”

Marie grinned and gave Bruce a playful nudge. “Well, if Marbles trusts you, then I guess I can too. So, what’s the plan for tonight?”

Bruce’s smile widened. “I’ve got a nice place in mind. It’ll be much better than our last interaction together.” He was thinking about their recent meeting at a crime scene for the Red Lotus case, but quickly corrected himself. “I mean, way better than the gala.”

Marie raised an eyebrow. “You’d better live up to that promise, Wayne.”

“I’ve made reservations at this little bistro I think you’ll like. It’s quiet and quaint—perfect for a night away from the organized chaos.”

Marie nodded, grabbing her long overcoat. “Sounds perfect. Lead the way.”

The restaurant's ambience was intimate, with soft jazz playing in the background and flickering candlelight lighting up the area. They settled into their booth, and Bruce raised his glass with a grin. “To a night free from crime scenes and paperwork.”

Marie clinked her glass with his, chuckling. “And what would you know about crime scenes and paperwork, Mr. Billionaire?”

He laughed softly. “You’d be surprised. Even billionaires have their share of chaos.”

“At least tonight, we get to enjoy a break from it all.” Marie responded.

Bruce nodded. “Absolutely. Here’s to a peaceful evening.”

Bruce’s words carried a subtle irony. He savored this rare moment of calm with Marie, yet guilt tugged at him. While she saw him as just Bruce Wayne, unaware of his alter ego as Batman and the battles he fought, he couldn’t help but feel a mix of selfishness and remorse for keeping that part of himself hidden from her.

“So, Marie,” Bruce said, “Tell me about your first days on the force. I bet they were something.”

Marie’s smile wavered slightly. “Shit, where do I start? My first big case was a robbery-turned-shooting, and I was completely clueless. I remember stepping over blood and broken glass, and thinking, ‘Yep, this is definitely not a drill.’”

Bruce leaned in, fascinated. “That sounds intense.”

“It was,” Marie said, “I remember one night, a few months in, I was chasing a suspect. I tripped and fell, and suddenly, I was staring down the barrel of a gun. I just froze.”

Bruce’s eyes widened. “Did anything happen?”

“Yeah,” She said, thinking back to that night, “A patrol car showed up just in time to save my sorry ass. But that moment… it made me realize how real this job is. And how easy it is to feel vulnerable.”

Bruce listened intently, his expression thoughtful. “I can’t imagine how tough that must have been,” he said, offering Marie a reassuring smile. He continued, “You know, Marie, you’re one of the best detectives Gotham has. And one of the few truly honest people at the GCPD.”

Marie looked up, feeling grateful, but surprised. “How do you know that?”

Bruce hesitated for a moment, then cleared his throat. “Oh, you know, Gotham’s a city where corruption is... pretty evident.”

Marie smiled, “I guess that’s true. It’s nice to hear someone appreciate the hard work we put in.”

Bruce looked at Marie with genuine curiosity. “What made you choose law enforcement?”

Marie’s eyes clouded with a brief, distant sadness. Bruce noticed and gently placed his hand over hers. “It’s a bit of a story,” she began. “My dad was a detective. He was killed on the job when I was a kid, going after some small-time crook. It was shitty—really shitty. It nearly shattered my family. Becoming a detective was my way of making sense of it all and staying connected to him."

Marie took a breath before continuing, "He loved his work, and I like to think he’d be proud of me for carrying on.”

“I understand that more than you might think. Losing parents is something I'm familiar with. It’s different, but I get the drive to honor their memory.” Bruce said, feeling enormously grateful that Marie opened up to him.

She gave a small, appreciative smile. “It’s comforting to hear that. It’s not always easy, but it’s what keeps me going.”

To lighten the mood, Marie took a sip of her wine and leaned in with a playful glint in her eye. “So, Bruce, what’s your life like outside of the high society events? What’s the billionaire playboy up to when he's not dazzling everyone?”

Bruce looked slightly taken aback but quickly recovered. “Oh, you know, just the usual—business meetings, philanthropy, and the occasional quiet evening at home.”

Their plates of spaghetti arrives, and Marie began twisting her fork in the noodles. “Sounds pretty standard. But surely there’s more to it than that. What’s a typical day like for you?”

Bruce hesitated, his fork pausing mid-air. “Well, I... I like to stay busy. There are always new projects and challenges. But I also try to make time for things that matter.”

Marie nodded, “Like what? Do you have any hobbies or interests outside of work?”

Bruce smiled, clearly choosing his words carefully. “I’m a bit of an adrenaline junkie. I enjoy activities that get my heart racing. Keeps me on my toes.”

Marie laughed. “Adrenaline junkie, huh? Sounds like you have a taste for excitement. I can relate. I guess we both like to keep things interesting.”

Bruce’s smile grew, and he raised his glass again. “Here’s to finding balance, no matter how chaotic life gets.”

Marie clinked her glass with his once more, her eyes warm. “Cheers to that.”

They spent the rest of the evening lost in conversation, their bond growing stronger with each shared story and laugh. When they finally left the restaurant, the cool night air felt invigorating. Bruce walked Marie to her apartment, her hand wrapped in his.

They reached Marie’s door, and she turned to Bruce with a smile. “This was a lot of fun. I never thought I’d get a date with a billionaire.”

Bruce grinned. “And I never thought I’d get a date with Gotham’s top detective.”

Marie glanced up at Bruce, her fingers idly playing with the edge of his jacket as she gathered her thoughts. “Bruce, can we talk for a sec?”

Bruce raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Sure, what’s up?”

Marie took a deep breath, feeling the warmth of his jacket against her fingers. “I’ve really enjoyed tonight. You’re... well, you’re great. But I need you to know something before we get too ahead of ourselves.”

Bruce leaned in slightly, his gaze softening. “Okay, hit me with it.”

Marie fiddled with the fabric, struggling a bit with her words. “My job is... kind of all-consuming. I can get pulled into work at any hour, and some days it’s like working a double shift. I just wanted to be upfront about it. I know we’ve only been on one date, but—”

Bruce reached out, gently placing a hand on hers, stilling her movements. “Marie, I get it. You don’t need to worry about rushing into anything.”

She looked at him, feeling a rush of relief. “Thanks, Bruce. I just wanted to be honest about what you’re getting into.”

Bruce smiled, his hand still resting on hers. “I’m no stranger to unpredictability. My job can be like that, too.”

Marie’s eyes softened as she felt the warmth of his touch. “It’s really good to hear that. It’s nice knowing someone understands.”

Bruce chuckled softly. “I’m here for whatever comes next, whether it’s more of these nights or the craziness of your job.”

Marie's heart pulsed, “That means a lot to me.”

Bruce took a small step back, his hand lingering on hers for a moment longer. “I’ll see you soon, Marie.”

She nodded, feeling a mix of warmth and anticipation. “See you soon, Bruce.”

With a final, reassuring smile, Bruce turned and walked into the night. Marie watched him disappear, still in disbelief that she had just been on a date with Bruce Wayne. She lingered by the door, a gentle smile on her lips, savoring the moment before finally closing it behind her.

—-------------------------------

The next morning, Marie was back at the precinct, surrounded by the usual clamor of ringing phones and clacking keyboards. Marie and Gordon had taken a quiet moment in his office to discuss their next steps on the Red Lotus case. The blinds were drawn, casting long shadows across the desk, making the room feel calm amidst the usual unrest of the station.

Marie sat across from Gordon, fidgeting with the edge of a case file. She looked up, her expression uncertain. “Gordon, I need to talk to you about something. Something outside of work.” Gordon broke his focus from the paperwork on his desk and met her eyes.

“I’ve been seeing someone. Bruce Wayne. We went on a date, and it was… well, it was great.”

Gordon raised an eyebrow, leaning back in his chair. “Bruce Wayne, huh? The billionaire playboy. I didn’t expect that. Guess you guys really hit it off at the gala.”

Marie sighed and rubbed her temples. “Yeah, it’s been... complicated.”

Gordon looked surprised. “I thought you said the date was good?”

“It was. The date was amazing. He said he wants to see me again.”

“So, what’s the problem?”

“My job is a mess. Balancing it while being in a relationship is tough. I’ve never had time for anything serious before.” She felt a pang of insecurity upon revealing that detail.

She continued, “It’s not that I don’t want to be dating someone, but honestly, I’ve never even had time to download a dating app. And it’s not like I’m meeting guys while working late nights at the precinct.” Marie glanced out the window into the precinct’s lobby, where Harvey Bullock and a few other cops were hunched over, shoveling chips and sodas into their mouths. “Well, not any halfway decent guys, at least.” 

Gordon sighed, “Let me guess, you’re worried that work might affect this budding relationship with Mr. Wayne?”

Marie nodded, looking troubled. “Exactly. I could be on call at any hour, and I can’t just turn off being a detective. I’ve never had a life outside of this job. It’s like the moment I try to have something normal, it feels like it’s going to get swallowed up by work."

Gordon leaned forward, his tone firm but gentle. “Marie, this job will take everything from you if you let it. It’s a beast, and it’s never satisfied. But that doesn’t mean you should let it destroy everything else in your life.”

Marie looked up, surprised. “You think so?”

“Absolutely.” Gordon nodded, “You’ve earned this time with someone special. You deserve a balance, and you shouldn’t let the job dictate every aspect of your life. Hell, even I’ve had to learn that the hard way.”

Marie’s eyes widened. “How do you manage it?”

Gordon shrugged slightly. “It’s not easy. There’s no magic formula. But I’ve learned to make space for what matters, even when it feels impossible. You need to protect those parts of your life that give you happiness. Otherwise, you’ll end up a shell of yourself.”

Marie’s shoulders relaxed a bit, a small smile forming. “I’m just scared that if I let my guard down, things will fall apart.”

Gordon’s expression was encouraging. “You’re not alone in this. There’s no shame in wanting a life outside of this job. If Bruce is someone who makes you happy, don’t push him away because you’re afraid. It’s okay to let yourself be human.”

Marie nodded, feeling understood. “I guess I need to figure out how to make room for both parts of my life.”

Gordon gave her a reassuring smile. “You will. You’re one of the best detectives I know, but you’re also one of the best people I know. You deserve to be happy. Don’t forget that.”

Marie stood up, feeling a bit lighter. “Thanks, Gordon. I really needed to hear that.”

Gordon gave her a nod as she headed for the door. “Anytime, Detective.”

—-------------------------------

A few hours later, Marie was at her desk surrounded by a chaotic array of case files. The Red Lotus case had her on edge. Upon studying her most recent notes, she was convinced the next murder would occur at an old industrial plant near Gotham Hospital.

She found Commissioner Gordon in his office, packing up to head home for the day. “Boss, I need to get in touch with Batman. I’ve got a lead on the Red Lotus case.”

Gordon checked his watch before looking at Marie, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. “It's awfully late, don't you have a cat that will miss you if you're out too late?"

When Marie's expression didn't change, he continued, "There’s a broken floodlight on the roof. It’s not exactly high-tech, but it’s how I usually get his attention.”

Marie’s eyes widened with curiosity. “Really? That’s… oddly brilliant. I’ll go up there and give it a try.”

On the roof, Marie fumbled with the old floodlight, trying to get it working. After a few awkward attempts, she managed to get the light beaming into the night sky, resembling a crude Bat-Signal.

She stared at the light, feeling a mix of anticipation and impatience. “Come on, Batman. I’m not exactly an expert at this.”

Minutes ticked by, and Marie’s anxiety grew. She muttered to herself, “Maybe he’s caught in traffic. Or maybe he’s just not into following broken floodlights.”

Frustrated, she decided to head to the industrial plant on her own. As she drove up to the location, she noticed the place was as ominous as she had imagined. The shadows and decaying machinery made it feel like a scene from a horror movie.

Marie approached the entrance, her nerves increasing with every step. The shadows seemed to stretch everywhere, and the dim, flickering lights cast unsettling shapes on the walls. Her stomach churned with a mix of anxiety and determination. She had expected Batman to show up by now, but he was still nowhere in sight. The unease gnawed at her; she felt exposed and alone.

As she neared the entrance, the sound of engines roared behind her. Marie turned to see black SUVs pulling up, their headlights slicing through the gloom. She braced herself as Falcone’s men emerged, their intimidating presence amplifying her sense of dread.

“Looks like we’ve got company,” one of Falcone’s goons said with a sneer. The man had a brutish face, a scar running down his cheek, and his eyes were cold and menacing.

Marie tried to steady her breathing as she faced them. “Falcone,” she called out, her voice wavering slightly despite her best efforts. “Let’s cut the bullshit. Are you behind the Red Lotus murders?”

Falcone stepped out of the shadows with an air of casual arrogance. His sharp, tailored suit seemed out of place against the backdrop of the crumbling industrial plant. He looked Marie up and down with a dismissive smirk, making her skin crawl. “Why would I be behind those murders?” he drawled, his gaze lingering uncomfortably. “I’m being set up. Someone’s trying to pin this whole mess on me.”

Marie’s eyes narrowed, her anger bubbling to the surface. “Framed, huh? For what reason? Why would anyone go through all the trouble to set you up?”

Falcone’s smile widened, a glint of malice in his eyes. “Well, darling, that’s a question for someone with a bit more brain power than you. But it’s definitely easier to pay people off than to deal with nosy detectives.”

Marie’s jaw tightened. “So you’re saying you’re just handing out bribes to keep people quiet? Sounds like you’re more worried about covering your tracks than finding out who's framing you.”

Falcone chuckled, shaking his head. “You think you’re so clever, don’t you? But really, it’s easier to silence people than deal with the mess they cause. Especially when they’re poking around where they shouldn’t be.”

Marie’s patience snapped. “Enough with the crap, Falcone. If you’re not behind the murders, why are you trying to bribe me to back off? You’re hiding something.”

Falcone’s demeanor darkened. “Listen, detective, I’m not here to play games. It’s called ‘business.’ Sometimes you have to grease palms to keep things running smoothly. Doesn’t mean I’m behind every fuckin’ mess that happens in this city.”

She felt a surge of anger. “Business? Is that what you call it? Paying people off and getting away with murder? I’m not buying your bullshit.”

“I’m done with this, take her out.” Falcone announced, waving his fingers towards his groupies.

Before she could react further, his men moved in. One of them threw a punch, catching Marie off guard. She staggered, the blow hitting her squarely in the ribs. She gritted her teeth, trying to fight back, but the sheer number of attackers overwhelmed her. Each punch and kick seemed to blend into a haze of pain. She was able to land a few good punches before they overpowered her.

“Fuck you,” Marie gasped as another thug slammed her against the wall. A punch to her jaw brought the sharp, coppery taste of blood to her mouth. She spat the blood onto her attacker’s face, her struggle to defend herself growing more desperate with each agonizing second.

Just as the situation seemed dire, a grappling hook shot through the air, and Batman descended with a powerful landing that sent Falcone’s goons sprawling. The Dark Knight moved with expert precision, his strikes a blur of efficiency and force. Each of Falcone's thugs fell or fled under the relentless onslaught.

“Perfect timing,” Marie muttered bitterly, falling to the ground as Batman’s intervention ended the assault. The thugs were either incapacitated or running for their lives, leaving the grimy, derelict plant in an eerie silence. Falcone was nowhere to be seen.

Batman’s focus shifted immediately to Marie. He knelt beside her, his expression hidden but his concern evident in the harsh lines of his posture. He gently examined her injuries, his gloved hands careful but firm. His breath came in heavy, controlled bursts as he took in the extent of her bruises and cuts.

“This is what happens when you don’t wait for backup,” Batman said, his voice low but laced with frustration. “What the hell were you thinking, coming here alone? You could’ve been killed. This isn’t a damn game.”

Marie winced as he touched a particularly sore spot on her jaw. “I didn’t have time to wait,” she snapped, trying to mask her pain with defiance. “I was on a lead, and I needed to act before it got cold.”

Batman’s eyes narrowed beneath his mask. “You’re not invincible, Detective. You’re lucky I showed up when I did. What if I hadn’t been here? You were losing that fight. These guys will end you, and you'll never be seen again.”

Marie tried to sit up, but the pain kept her laying down. “You think I don't know that?" Batman didn't respond.

She spoke up, "Oh, and where were you when I used the floodlight? I waited, but you didn’t show up. You think I can just sit around and wait forever? What kind of detective would that make me?”

Batman’s anger was palpable. “I was following another lead. I didn’t realize you’d be in this much danger. This city is dangerous, and you should’ve known better than to come here without backup.”

Marie’s gaze was filled with pain. “Well, maybe if you were more reliable, I wouldn’t have had to face this alone.” Moments passed as Bruce continued scanning her wounds.

His voice softened slightly, though it remained stern. “I’m sorry. I should’ve been here sooner. But you have to be more careful. Gotham’s not a place for heroics without a plan or backup.”

Marie’s irritation didn’t wane, but she nodded, recognizing the truth in his words. “Fine. Let’s just get out of here. I don’t want to hang around for another round of thugs.”

Batman helped her to her feet, his arm securely wrapped around her waist to support her. Marie couldn’t help but notice the sheer size of his muscles pressing against her, and she felt a surge of irritation. "Great," she thought, "as if his stupidly amazing physique wasn’t already impressive enough." The tension between them was palpable as they made their way out of the industrial plant, Marie’s anger simmering beneath the surface.

Once outside, Batman glanced back at the ruined plant, his mind racing through the night’s events. His voice was quieter, almost softer, as if Bruce Wayne was momentarily taking over. “You need to be more cautious,” he said, struggling to articulate the depth of his concern. His words fell short, unable to fully express how much he cared for her and how deeply it hurt him to see her injured.

“I’ll make sure you get medical attention,” he continued, his tone firm yet caring. “Don’t think that you can keep doing this without consequences.”

Marie met his gaze, her own concern mirroring his. “I get it. I’ll be more careful. But remember, I’m not just another asset. I’m out here doing what I can to stop the madness.”

With a final, pained look at the darkened plant, Batman and Marie disappeared into the night.

[meganwiththeknees]

Distant

Summary:

The hero gala is over and everyone is ready to go out for the night to celebrate... or so you thought.

Chapter 2

“Over here girl.”

You look over from the large crowd and see a pink hand waving at you. You try to shove your way through the crowd trying to make it backstage to Mina and Eijiro. You finally get to both of them and see Denki standing next to them talking.

“Hey, we lost you for a minute, sorry.”

“No, it’s fine.”

You try to assure Mina that it is not her fault for getting lost in the big crowd. You begin to think if Denki notices you standing right in front of him. It is not like you really want to start awkward small talk with him, but at least you could say something to break the ice.

“Congratulations, everyone. It was nice to see how far y’all have made it in your Pro Hero journey. I’m really proud of all of you tonight!” You begin to congratulate everyone with a smile.

“Thanks, girl, you're so sweet,” Mina says as she wraps you in a big hug.

“Thanks but I’m really proud of my bro over here. Who knew you would be taking home the seventh spot tonight!” Eijiro exclaims, patting Denki on the back.

“Okay, I don’t know if it’s just me, but I’m ready to get out of here and go to the after-party. Your girl is ready to get her drink on. Are you going to come with us girl?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Isn’t the party only for pros though?”

“Yeah, but who cares? We’ll be there with you to let you in. Besides, think of it as a way to catch up with everyone.”

Thinking about it, you did feel like it would be nice to catch up with everyone and see how they were doing. Although, you already felt a little uncomfortable sitting in this place with all the pros around. Not to mention the fact that if you go to the after-party, you would have to see Denki more and deal with the awkward tension. He did not even acknowledge you when you faced him, not to mention he didn’t thank you for the congratulations. You ended up siding against your thoughts and agreeing to attend the after-party.

“Okay, well, if it’s fine, then I guess there is no harm in going.”

“Who said you could go to the party?” A voice from out of nowhere states.

“Oh, Katsuki, get over yourself. Besides, when's the last time you remember seeing her?” Mina said to Katsuki.

“First off, I don’t even remember this extra, and she’s not even a pro.”

“Come on, Kacchan, don't be like that. Oh, and hi, it’s nice seeing you after all these years,” Midoriya says, coming up to give you a hug.

“Hi Midoriya, you're just as nice as ever. I can’t say the same for some people I know,” You state, shooting a glare at Katsuki.

“Tch, whatever. If she’s going to come, then she’s going to come.”

“Then why did you say anything in the first place?” Mina barks at Katsuki.

“Shut the hell up!”

Katsuki and Mina continue to go back and forth with each other. Eijiro has to hold back Mina in the end to stop the fight. As you look around, you notice that Denki has disappeared. You let out a sigh of relief, knowing that you didn’t have to start an awkward conversation with him. In hindsight, having any conversation at all was better than just downright not talking to each other. The tension in the air felt so thick that you could cut it with a knife.

You begin to think that maybe you should have been the bigger person and try to say something to Denki. This tension that resides between the two of you is not desirable for your mental health. Hell, you know that better than anyone else. You are a therapist, after all. You need to sit down and talk to him one day and resolve whatever the problem is. Well, first, you have to figure out what the problem is, to begin with.

“Okay, everyone, let’s get this party started!” You look up and see everyone cheering at the statement Mina made.

“Oh, Mina, is it okay if I get a ride there with you and Ei? I’m pretty sure you two will need a designated driver by the end of the party too.”

“Yeah girl, that’s fine. We’ll drop you at your car after the party.”

“You mean I’ll drive myself to my car by the end of the party. Y’all be too far gone to even drive.”

“You know me too well, girl.”

You and Mina start to walk out of the building together, heading to her car. You walk out of the auditorium into the big front lobby until you reach the main doors. You two walk out of the building together and rush past the paparazzi so that they don’t ask you any more questions. As you continue to walk towards the car, Mina starts to tell you something.

“Oh girl, I forgot to tell you something. Promise you won’t get mad at me?”

You give Mina a questioning look and promise that you won’t get mad at her for not telling you something in advance.

“Denki is riding in the car with us,” Mina said, rushing out her words as she spoke.

“How could you forget to tell me something like that? I can’t really turn back now. You already told Ei, and I’m pretty sure he told Denki since he went to go look for him earlier when we were walking out of the building.”

“You can turn back now I’ll just tell him that you wanted to take your car instead since you left something in there. Or something like that.”

“There’s no point of lying to him, I'll just come with y’all. I have a question, though...why is he with you guys in the first place?”

“He came over to get a pair of shoes that he left at me and Ei’s place. Then we all agreed that we should just take one car to get here.”

You looked at Mina with understanding in your eyes. You found no point in going back to your car, as you and Denki could act like normal adults and ride in one car. You think it will be awkward, but it would only be a fifteen-minute drive there. So it wouldn’t kill you.

“Do you want me to sit in the back seat with Denki?”

“No, you don’t have to do that, but thank you.”

Your conversation was cut short when you heard Eijiro calling out to both of you.

“Hey guys, I found him. He was coming back from the bathroom.” Eijiro was calling out from the middle of the parking garage.

Eijiro and Denki continue to walk towards you and Mina until they reach the car.

“Are you guys ready to go?”

Eijiro says as he unlocks the car, opening the driver's side of the door while Mina sits in the passenger and you and Denki sit in the back. Eijiro starts the vehicle, and the music turns on. Mina starts singing, or more specifically, yelling whatever was playing on the radio. You hum the song playing in the car, but as you look through your peripheral, you can see Denki scrolling on Instagram, sitting the farthest he can away from you. You roll your eyes in annoyance and start singing along with Mina again.

“Denki?” Denki hums and looks up from his phone, waiting for Eijiro to ask his question.

“You good man?” he asked, sounding a little concerned.

“Yeah, I'm good, just a little tired from tonight and all,” he smiled, giving Eijiro no reason to be worried.

During their quick conversation, you found yourself staring at Denki. You're not gonna lie, Denki was an attractive man, and anyone can see it. As you continue to stare at him, Denki can feel eyes on him, and he catches you looking at him. You smile, feeling a little embarrassed but feeling that this is the right time to spark up a conversation.

“I don’t know if you heard me earlier backstage, but congratulations, and I'm really proud of you.”

“Thanks, I was actually surprised that I moved up, but I guess hard work really does pay off.”

You begin to chuckle at his comment. It’s more of an awkward chuckle than a real laugh. You honestly didn’t know what to say to Denki after that. You two haven’t talked in about three and a half years.

“Yeah it really does,” you say as the awkwardness fills up the back of the car.

“Are you not cold in that dress? It should be around 50°F outside,” he asked, trying to continue the conversation.

“Oh yeah, I didn't really have time to grab a coat earlier.”

“Oh, I barely got any sleep last night. I was so nervous today I thought I would get demoted from eighth place,” he huffed quietly under his breath.

“Well you're a great hero, Denki. I don't think you should have been worried,” You smiled reassuringly.

“Thanks. You know I’ve been meaning to-”

“We’re here y'all!” Mina said excitedly, getting out of the car as quickly as possible walking to the club.

“Mina, wait!” Eijiro scurries out of the car, running, trying to catch up to Mina.

You and Denki get out of the car. As you both walk to the front of the club, you remember Denki was going to ask you a question before Mina interrupted.

“What were you saying before in the car?”

“Hm?” he stares at you, confused.

You realize he doesn't know what you're talking about.

“You know, before Mina interrupted, I'm assuming you meant to tell me something?”

His eyes widened, remembering the conversation again.

“It was nothing important.”

“Oh,” You say, lacking emotion.

You two start to walk into the building, and you feel the cold air against your body. Maybe Denki was right; it was cold outside. You and Denki arrive at the door, and he opens it for you. You start to think that he is still the same gentleman that you used to know. You thank him for opening the door and continue to walk into the building. The building is warm as expected, due to all the people inside.

“Hey, do you want to get a drink with me? It’ll be our first time together since when I last saw you; we couldn’t drink yet,” Denki says under his breath.

“Huh? What did you say? I can’t hear you because the music is a little too loud, and you were whispering.”

“We’re over here!”

Mina calls out to you with all the other girls from class standing next to her. You're about to go over to them, but then you realize that you never heard what Denki said for the second time today.

“Hey, Denki, what were you about to say?”

“Oh, it was nothing. You should go have fun with the rest of the girls.”

“Are you sure this is literally the second time today that you tried to tell me something but then got interrupted? Are you sure you don’t need to tell me?”

“Yeah, I’m sure, just go have fun.”

“Ok well, I’ll see you back here later. Bye.”

You start to head towards the girls, and they all seem happy to see you. Momo starts to hand shots to everyone. You take one in your hand and down the whole thing. You didn't want to get drunk, not just because you would be driving everyone home tonight, but you also just didn’t like the feeling of being drunk.

The girls continue their night of drinking, but you only took one more shot after your first one. You decided to stick to a bottle of water for the rest of the night. You and the girls begin to start a conversation that veers to a different topic every minute. Most of the girls were drunk, and you could clearly tell. Only you and Tsuyu were sober. The two of you would laugh at the other girls in their drunken states.

“Enough 'bout ussss, how have you been?” Hagakure asked, slurring her words.

“Life’s going good; I don’t really have anything to complain about.” You say.

“What you neeeed to be complainin' about is the lack of men in yourrr life!” Mina says abruptly, taking another shot and throwing it into her mouth.

“What- no! Mina, you're just saying that ‘cause you’re drunk.”

“I’m not drunk girllll, you're jus' the one nut drinkingaa!"

“Okay Mina, I think it’s time for us to get going now you're drunk as hell.”

“I’m fin-” Mina tries to finish her sentence as she begins to throw up on Tsuyu.

“Ewww, you got your nasty ass barf on Tsu, Mina!” Ochako exclaims.

“It’s okay, ribbit. I’ll just take Mina to the bathroom to clean ourselves off.”

“Guys, what is that stench?” Jirou yawned, waking up from her cat nap on the lounge chair.

“Mina threw up on Tsu,” You began to inform Jirou.

Tsuyu begins to take Mina to the bathroom to clean themselves off. You and the girls sit and wait for them to come back. As you're sitting, you begin to wonder what Denki could possibly be doing right now. You want to check on him and see what he was trying to tell you before you came to hang out with the girls, but you don’t want to leave them alone.

You look over at Momo, and you can tell that she is not fully sober but only a little buzzed. You ask her if she would be alright looking over everyone while you step away for a minute.

“Is it okay if I leave you with the girls for a few minutes or until Mina gets back?”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’m pretty sure I’m sober enough to watch over them. Besides, Jirou went back to sleep, so I have one less person to worry about.”

You two exchanged your goodbyes, and you promised you would be back in not later than fifteen minutes. You wander around the club for a little bit looking for Denki. You finally spot him sitting alone at the bar, and you decide to join him.

Extra Notes:

So did you like my little cliffhanger? This was probably one of my favorite chapters to write since everyone was drunk. Please feel free to leave constructive criticism in the comments. See y'all next week with a new chapter! <3

[densi-mber]

Babies Just Make it Better

“Hmm, what do you think? Should we get the Gala or Pink Ladies?” Deeks asks, looking down into the small nest of dark blonde curls atop Caleb’s head, and then turns his head enough to check in with Sophia, currently attached to his back.

“Glhh,” Sophia responds, one her little hands glancing off his neck. Caleb grabs Deeks’ chin, his eyes narrowing as his skin comes in contact with Deeks’ beard.

“Yeah, definitely the Gala.” He puts a few in their cart, next to a box of fish crackers and a jar of spaghetti sauce. “Ok, we just need some bananas, avocado, cucumbers, and cheese. Then we can go find—”

“Oh, they are so sweet!” a high-pitched voice interrupts him. Deeks turns, finding a tall dark-haired woman standing just a little bit closer than what’s appropriate for the produce section of a grocery store.

“Hey. Thanks. I like them too,” Deeks says, placing a protective hand over Caleb’s head. The woman reaches out to touch Sophia’s foot, who makes a squawking sound Deeks’ recognizes as one of displeasure.

“I just love twins,” the woman continues, leaning closer like she’s confiding something personal. “My cousins are twins.”

“Imagine that.” He chuckles a couple times, hoping he’s imagining the flirtatious edge to everything she says.

“I’m Angela.” She holds out her hand, and Deeks shakes it, releasing quickly.

“Deeks.”

“Oh, what an unusual name,” she comments. “I like it.” Her pitch drops a few tones and Deeks sighs internally. Turns out he wasn’t wrong after all.

“Thanks. Well, it was nice meeting you, but these kiddos won’t hold out much longer and I’ve got avocados to squeeze,” Deeks says in an attempt to excuse himself.

Angela laughs far more loudly than the joke deserves, tilting her head back, and when she comes back up for air, her hand somehow finds its way to his bicep. He edges back a couple steps, peering over Angela’s head in search of Kensi. Of all times for Kensi to get held up at the pharmacy.

“How’d you like to get some coffee?” she asks. “I bet you’re tired after carrying these two all around.”

“I appreciate the offer, but, I’m actually married,” Deeks informs her, holding up his left hand and wiggling his ring finger.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Angela murmurs, moving even closer.

“I’d love a coffee,” Kensi says brightly, appearing from behind Angela with a small white paper bag. Angela turns at her voice, giving her an annoyed glance, her hand falling from his arm.

“Ah, this is the love of my life, mother of the darling twins.” Deeks takes the opportunity to slip around to the other side of the shopping cart. Kensi lower her eyebrows in a silent question, quirking her head on Angela’s direction. “And this is Angela, who very kindly offered to buy me coffee. Isn’t that nice, Kensi?”

“Oh, yes,” Kensi agrees dryly, addressing Angela directly for the first time. “We’ve been wanting to make new friends.” She rests her hands on his forearm in a subtle possessive gesture that Deeks appreciates deeply.

“Actually, I just remembered I have an appointment I’m going to be late for,” Angela says, offering Kensi an icy smile. “It was a pleasure to meet you.” Then, as she passes by, she leans into his ear, and adds, “I work at the realtor’s office across the street if you ever need to get out.”

“I leave you alone for 10 minutes,” Kensi comments once Angela has beat a hasty retreat. Shaking her head, she takes a moment to kiss each of the babies.

“Hey, I was putting up all kinds of stop signs, she just didn’t listen,” Deeks defends himself.

“They never do.” Kensi loops her arm through his as Deeks starts to push the cart towards the display with avocados. “Not at the beach, or the library, or that one time at my mom’s church. Your Deeksness is in overdrive.”

“Ok, I get the point. I really thought that presence of two babies under the age of one and the ever increasing gray hair would be a deterrent.”

“Oh, believe me, it’s not,” Kensi tells him, pausing to brush a curl off his temple. “Maybe next time mention that I’m fully versed in martial arts and knife throwing.”

[redolentgrove]

[@ask-north - Wisteria @ Loki] Wisteria gleefully approached Loki with North not far behind her, She however quickly began to stare in awe at the taur just as she did the first time they met. The tiny ghost didn't look like she did before, but she acted all the same. "Your dress is sooo pretty!!" She suddenly shouted before lowering her voice in embarrassment, "Oh… Uhm. Do you remember me?" She asked, The ghost sounded a bit sad and worried but her happiness quickly returned.

"Wait!! Did you come here to have fun too!? Oh! Oh! Did you bring any friends? Can I meet them? I brought my friend too! See? See?" She proudly gestured to North. "We didn't have any pretty dresses though…" She trailed off, before giving Loki a nervous smile. "… Can I still meet them even if I don't have a pretty dress too?"

Loki had been enjoying a small glass of sparkling wine, when Wisteria appeared in front of her. The not-ghost's voice seemed so familiar as she spoke all excitedly. She couldn't quite place it right away, but after looking into the child's eyes for a moment… she nodded. It was immediately clear; this was the same ghost that had adopted her as a mother. Once again, the eyes didn't lie; even disguised as a human, Wisteria's identity couldn't escape Loki's keep senses. And that attitude… the sheer excitement and awe were undeniable.

"Ah…" she mused, striding up to Wisteria and ruffling the hair on her head. "How could a mom ever forget her little girl? You know… I don't even think you told me your name when you 'adopted' me, did you? Did I even tell you mine? I'm Jolokia. Jolokia Capsicum Aniseed… or just Loki works, too!" She chuckled softly at that, turning her head to spot North when the younger 'ghost' pointed her out. "I see! It's good that you have a friend here to keep you company. Don't worry; you don't need a giant dress like mine to meet my friends and family."

Just then, Bijoux padded alongside her mother, headtilting at the pair of humans. She looked over at Wisteria specifically, noticing the more ghostly features on her body. The Cinccino-taur waved shyly at both her and North, letting out a soft squeak in greetings.

"Hello, little ones," she offered, despite being only slightly taller than North herself. The normal-type's tail swayed in rhythm, and she looked over at Loki. "I hope Mom hasn't given you any trouble."

"Speak of the family," Loki mused, gently patting Bijoux on her left shoulder. "This sweet bundle of fluff is my daughter, Bijoux Kylar Aniseed."

"Mom, sheesh, really? Whipping out the middle names in front of strangers?"

"Hey, we're at a nice event. It's okay to be a little more formal in introductions." The hybrid smirked and nodded toward the Cinccino-taur curtly. "And besides, one of these 'strangers' sees me as a mother figure. She's not always a human, either; she's, last I checked, a Misdreavus on most days. Though this other human, I can't recall meeting the last time I saw this ghost-but-not-currently…"

"Ugh, seriously, Mom, can you not go anywhere anymore without becoming someone's Mom or Aunt? The family tree already has enough tangled webs with me being like, half-sister to someone who has thirty-something generations of descendants…"

"To be fair," Loki quipped, "she asked me if I was like a mom from like the instant she saw me. I can't say no to such sweet, awestruck eyes! You know how weak I am to that! But anyway, Bijoux... shouldn't you be testing your harp to make sure it's ready for your performance? It's got to be coming up soon..."

( @ask-north )

((Mod Notes: Due to general burnout and a cramped RL work schedule, current asks in the inbox for the Gala event will be answered, but in a somewhat abbreviated style like this. A final post with Bijoux's musical act will be put up toward the final days, but our active participation in the Gala has come to a close. Apologies to all who hoped to see more of Loki and company, but I don't feel it's fair to everyone to not be able to give everything my fullest attention at an event like this. And certainly not so with anyone who has our asks in their inbox and might have wanted a more fleshed-out interaction...))

[cousinkooksbackup]

Exchanged Love. || a bellyjere au fic

chapter fourteen

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jeremiah's pov

I was teetering on the edge of a maddening blend of emotions, an array of feelings I couldn't quite decipher. The party had been an unexpected whirlwind of excitement so far. My friends seemed to have taken to Belly, some of them perhaps a bit too eagerly for my comfort, though I couldn't bring myself to voice my concerns. It wasn't my place.

Ever since the conversation I'd had with Conrad outside our house in Cousins, I'd had ample time to reflect. I despised it when my brother was right, especially when he chose to be smug and manipulative rather than straightforward. But now, he was safely tucked away at Brown, a much-needed respite after eighteen years of being inseparable.

And now, there was someone new in my life. Someone who was electrifying, enchanting, and utterly intimidating – Belly.

Since our return to Boston, she had occupied far more of my thoughts than I cared to admit. Even with grueling preseason football workouts relentlessly pummeling me, my mind always seemed to drift back to that dark-haired girl and what she might be up to. My coach had taken to smacking my helmet as a persistent reminder to focus. My teammates teased me relentlessly, suggesting I would fall in love with my exchange "sister," which couldn't have been further from the truth regarding my relationship with Belly. At this point, we barely had one, contrary to what I had envisioned after that unforgettable night at the gala. Despite her monopolizing my thoughts, I only encountered her during breakfast and dinner. It was frustrating, but maybe this distance was my way of shielding her from harm.

I had already planned to invite Belly to the party, so Mom's caveat didn't surprise me. School had been stressful, and socializing outside of class was a welcomed change of pace. The football team had been relentlessly urging me all week to bring her to our quarterback EJ's legendary bash.

One thing I had conveniently forgotten about was Lacie. Typically, when I returned home from Cousins, whether we were fighting or in a good place, we would reconnect. But with workouts and, well, Belly, I hadn't even informed Lacie that I was home, and she hadn't reached out to me.

I felt like I had been caught red-handed, doing something I shouldn't, by the way she glared at Belly and me. The truth was, I hadn't done anything wrong, except perhaps being overly touchy with Belly. However, it seemed like the only way to deter my misguided teammates from thinking they could flirt with her, even if she was completely and utterly single.

"Oh, that's so funny, Jere never mentioned you this summer. Nice to meet you, though," Belly responded, and I was tempted to laugh. The rest of the kitchen erupted into hushed snickers. Those outside these walls remained blissfully unaware of the spectacle inside. I wished I could have joined them, played beer pong in the basement, or done anything other than be one of Lacie's targets.

I should have briefed Belly about Lacie, but I didn't know how. Not because I was two-timing anyone, but because Lacie and I had always been incredibly complicated. And at the time of Belly's arrival, we weren't even dating. Heck, we still weren't dating now.

"Jeremiah, tell her," Lacie insisted, her confidence growing as she expected my response. Belly had taken a step back from me, extending her hand toward Lacie, leaving me feeling exposed.

"I mean—" I started to say, scratching the back of my neck. I didn't want to embarrass her in front of everyone, but I also couldn't bring myself to lie. Not to Belly. Even if it didn't matter, given we were just friends. But Belly stepped in, saving me with her words.

"Dating or not, it doesn't really matter to me! This sounds like a conversation you two might want to have in private. This is supposed to be a party, right?" Her voice was gentle and sweet, and her smile, oh, it was sincere. She had taken the high road, which I knew must have irked Lacie to no end.

"Hell yeah, it's a party! I like this girl, Fisher!" Wade chimed in, holding out shots he had poured, stepping between Belly and me as he handed them out to everyone around. He then added with a wink, "I'd give one to you, but I've got this feeling you're about to be dragged away on your leash." He glanced at Lacie and then back to our friends, slinging his arm around Belly's shoulders.

Lacie cleared her throat and stood opposite me, arms folded, and foot tapping impatiently. I didn't want to go with her; I wanted to stay with Belly. I could see her face crinkling up from the shot she had just taken. I had promised my mom I would ensure Belly was okay and enjoying herself.

"Jeremiah, seriously?" Lacie whined, stomping her foot like a toddler. Reluctantly, I pulled my gaze away from Belly and followed Lacie up the stairs toward the den.

"What the hell was that?" Lacie slammed the door shut behind us, and I wouldn't have been surprised if everyone upstairs heard it. There was a time when her assertiveness would have excited me, knowing it would eventually lead to an intimate rendezvous, but now I just wanted to get this conversation over with and rejoin the party, my friends, and Belly.

"I don't know what you're talking about," I replied, the combination of alcohol in my system and my growing irritation creating an ugly mix. Lacie's eyes bore into me as she glared.

"Why didn't you tell that Beatrice—"

"Belly," I corrected her. "Well, actually Isabel, but Belly."

"I don't care what her name is, Jeremiah. Why didn't you tell her we were together?" She snapped, moving closer, her voice tinged with venom.

"Because we're not, Lacie. You broke up with me right before summer break because I went to Carmen Christie's graduation party with my mom." Saying it out loud made me cringe. Had that really been the reason we broke up?

"Well, yeah, everyone knows Carmen Christie was obsessed with you! Why would I want my boyfriend going to her party?" She spoke as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

"Because you trust me? And because her mom and my mom are friends, and I couldn't get out of it?" I responded, shaking my head and pinching the bridge of my nose. I was so over this.

"Well, how come you didn't invite me to go with you?" She asked after a pause.

"Because Carmen Christie hates you, and you hate her? This is all common knowledge, Lace." I didn't add that my mom disliked her too; that just felt like rubbing salt in the wound.

"Okay, so we can both see that tensions were high and mistakes were made. So why can't we just kiss and make up?" She tugged at the hem of my shirt, pulling herself closer. I found myself looking anywhere but at her.

"I don't know, Lace. I think I'm done for real this time." I heard her sniffle, and I couldn't help but look down. I hated myself the moment I did.

Tears welled up in her eyes, and her bottom lip quivered ever so slightly. "This summer was so hard for me," she sniffled. "My parents argued the entire time we were on our cruise to Bora-Bora, and then my dad left us once we were in Europe, and I didn't see him until we got back home." She wiped the tears from her cheeks, and instinctively, I wrapped my arms around her, pulling her into a hug.

"I just missed you so much. I'm sorry I didn't call." I sighed, stroking circles on her back. Even if she had called, with Belly around, I wasn't sure I would have answered; I was pretty preoccupied.

We sat there for a while; my phone buzzed in my back pocket, but I didn't want to be rude. "Feeling better?" I asked softly, my arms going numb from the way she leaned against them. She nodded, wiping away the last remnants of tears.

"I've got to go check on Belly, make sure she's doing okay. But I'm glad we talked." I nodded, releasing her and heading toward the door.

"You're really leaving me here crying to check on some girl nicknamed after a body part?" She snapped, her earlier sadness replaced with venom. Had she even been genuinely upset in the first place?

"I have to, Lacie. I can't just leave her to fend for herself." Once again, I bit my tongue, refraining from saying that I wanted to, that I wanted nothing more than to be with my friends and Belly, and not her.

She bit her lip, examining me for a moment. I had no idea what was going on behind those golden eyes, but from what I was learning, it couldn't be anything good.

"But we're okay, right? Like, back together now?" She finally asked.

"We're okay, Lacie. But no, we're not back together. I'm done for real this time," I said softly, opening the door and walking out. I couldn't bear to turn around; if she was crying, I'd feel bad and be tempted to go back. So, I kept my eyes ahead, intent on finding the girl who hadn't left my thoughts all evening.

[eadanga]

When Love Lasts Part 4

Summary: When Yasmin gets a new job in the biggest company in the city she falls for her hot boss

Parings: GabexMC

Yasmin stand at her desk typing on her computer she sighs as she slumps in her chair “Finally done”

“Taking a little break?”

Yasmin jumps and turns to see Gabe behind her “Don’t do that”

Gabe chuckles “Sorry about that you tired after the gala”

“Yeah it went on so long”

“Yup very boring”

“You think they’re boring?”

“Yeah mom just organizes it for status and to get more clients which I’m not opposed to”

“I get it”

“Now you wanna get coffee? I know a great place for a recharge”

Yasmin smiles “I’d love too”

Gabe smiles “Great let’s head out now”

Yasmin stands then follows Gabe out the office they head down to a nearby coffee shop Yasmin sits at a booth as Gabe heads to order coffee for them she pulls out her phone

So Gabe just asked me to coffee

For real? You still there give all the deets

Nothing’s happen yet he’s getting coffee for us

He’s so into you Yas

It’s just coffee

That can be start of something more

Yasmin puts away her phone as Gabe returns with two coffee cups “Your coffee ma’am”

Yasmin giggles “Thank you”

Gabe sits across from her “I hope this makes up for meeting my mom I know she’s”

“Snobby?”

“Yeah I’m sorry she’s always been like that”

“It’s fine Gabe I’ve dealt with people like her”

Gabe chuckles “I can imagine”

“I don’t let them bother me plus I can take care of myself”

“I know just don’t want anything to happen”

Yasmin smiles He’s worried about me aww that’s sweet “I can take care of myself Gabe but I will be careful”

****

Gabe smiles She’s so beautiful but I gotta keep this casual and not make her uncomfortable “Tell me how you enjoying the job so far?”

“Oh it’s fun I’m enjoying everyone around me and the work is not so bad”

“I’m glad I didn’t want to overwhelm you which is why I bought you here to make sure you know how where to relax”

Yasmin giggles “I’ll keep it in mind thanks Gabe this was nice”

“I’m glad you enjoyed it and I’m glad I was able to take a break too”

Yasmin laughs “But you’re the boss you can do whatever you want”

Gabe chuckles “That’s very true but the clients aren’t happy when you don’t have what they want on time”

“I know but they can wait people just need patience sometimes”

Gabe grins “I agree” He stands and holds out his hand “Now let’s head back”

“Awww but we were having so much fun”

Gabe laughs “Well we can have too much fun there’s work to be done”

Yasmin giggles and takes his hand. Gabe can feel his pulse quicken and his face heat up How does she have this effect on me God I wanna kiss her right now He quickly releases her hand “Shall we get going?”

“After you”

They walk out the coffee shop together. They return to the office and Gabe turns to her “This was fun we can do it again” He smirks “And I know that roommate of yours wants to know everything”

Yasmin laughs as he walks away

Gabe goes to his office and sighs as he slumps in the chair “Oh God how can one girl be that sexy? I don’t know how much longer I can control myself around her

****

Yasmin heads back to her desk and pulls out her phone

Liz you’re probably gonna start going crazy

Oooooooh what happened kiss? Sex?

No! 😂

Tell me!!!!!!

Well we held hands for a second and I swear time stopped

Oh sparks flying

I don’t even know if he feels the same way Liz don’t jump to conclusions and besides we only been out for coffee

Like I said before that can be the start of something

Yasmin smiles Well she is right but I should take it slow with him

Tags: @indiacater @mfackenthal @the-soot-sprite

[imprvdente]

@countlessrealities​​ sent:

"Oh, y-you made it!" Morty greeted the moment Fish stepped out of one of her doors, which had opened in the hall of the Smith residence.

He and Summer had asked the woman if she could stop by, at least for a bit, at Christmas day. The official excuse had been that she had to try out Rick's special eggnog, but in truth they were both hoping to have a chance to hand out the gifts they had gotten for her. And, also and perhaps especially, to get her to stay for the sake of making the day less boring.

"Uh, w-we got you something!" The teen went on, gesturing her to follow him in the living room. Once there, both he and Summer picked up two packages from under the tree.

"H-Happy holidays," Morty grinned, handing her a small, slightly creased package. "I-It's not great, but...I tried."

Inside it, Fish would found a miniature of a dragon, her dragon. The paint was a little smudged here and there, betraying the fact that had been painted by hand down to the last detail.

"Yeah, merry Christmas," Summer added rolling her eyes at where Jerry and Jacob were trying to keep the other presents involved in some boring conversation. "You're, like, the highlight of the day."

The girl's present was wrapped up much more nicely and, inside, there was a full make-up kit. The language on the box was definitely not an Earthen one, which meant that Summer had picked it up in some space mall.

"It's special make up. It's super cool because, like, it never gets smeared, no matter what you do or what the weather is like. It comes off only with this special product," she pointed one of the pictures on the back of the kit, "and it comes off, like, right away. No need to scrub it a thousand times or stuff. Just wash your face with a little bit of that. Travelling around gets messy, so I thought you could use something like this."

[[ Morty & Summer for Fish ]]

"Wouldn’t miss it for the world, kiddo,” she replied with a smile, her hand reaching for Morty’s head to ruffle his hair affectionately. And it was true, too. She had certainly gotten attached to Morty and Summer, and was happy to spend Christmas with them. It wasn’t like she celebrated Christmas at the Shop anyway, with it being mostly disconnected from time. 

She put her backpack (an old leather thing that had seen better days) on the sofa, and followed them to the tree. “Gifts?” a little exclamation of surprise, “you’re spoiling me kids.” She opened Morty’s gift first, letting a grin creep up on her face as she saw what was inside. “My dragon! Did you make it yourself? Morty that’s so sweet.” She held the little figurine in her hand, looking at it fondly. “I’ll cherish this, thank you.” A little kiss was placed on the boy’s forehead. 

Then she opened Summer’s present, not exactly surprised by its content, for she had grown to know the teenager quite well. “Well would you look at that, I’ll be the best looking trouble-maker in the galaxy!” She pulled Summer into a hug. “Thank you Summer, I love it.” And it would certainly come in very handy if she ever had to steal things at a gala or a ball (which happened a lot more often then you’d think).

“Well, I have gifts for you too kids!” she exclaimed happily, placing the boxes carefully on the coffee table before going to fetch her own bag to retrieve the presents. They had strange shapes, and were wrapped in nice pieces of printed silk.

“For you Morty,” she told the boy, handing him his present. The shape betrayed its content, a dagger in an elegant leather sheath. The blade was engraved with bizarre symbols, and the handle was covered in intricate designs. “It’s a magical dagger, it will hurt anyone but its owner. Got your name engraved on the blade there, so the dagger knows it belongs to you." Fish wasn’t really aware of what kind of gifts were age appropriate for a teenager, but then again, considering the adventures Morty got in? That wasn’t too far off. 

“And this one’s for you Summer!” She handed the girl a big present, soft to the touch under its wrapping. “It’s a cloak that can take on any shape and color you want it to. Can turn in into any piece of clothing, really. Dress, skirt, whatever you want. Oh but you need the right spells, wait,” she returned to her bag, rummaging through it for a moment. “Here!,” she gave her an old book, “with that, you should be all set. Now I know it won’t replace the joy of shopping, but I figured it could come in handy in case you don’t find what you want, or need a last minute outfit.” The cloak itself was simple enough, made of black cotton with golden symbols embroidered along the trim.

[torturingpeople]

The Immediate Jewel

Wordcount: 1.5k words Featuring: Charlotte Longhurst, Edison Hollingsworth, Lionel L. Sotheby Other info: Charlotte will never stop making it clear how much she hates Edison, Edison and Lionel have a weird love at first sight thing but is it really love or lust, they can't keep themselves away from each other, nothing explicit but they've definitely got something going on

Edison had been attending random galas, dinners and parties against the will of the public from the moment he knew the meaning of the word “blackmail.” Familiar faces always popped up — naturally — and he had a varying fondness of the attention he garnered each time. But he could be no more besotted than when a rather dashing man, oft in attendance at the Parlour of Virtue, stood by his side to defend him. It was a thrill that money couldn’t buy, a joy that alcohol couldn’t give, a pleasure that even the most prurient indulgence couldn’t hold a candle to.

Standing on the mezzanine, hunched over and observing the swirling figures on the ballroom floor, Edison swirled around a glass of wine, sipped occasionally, and waited for tipsiness to turn into drunken stupor as high-society types curled affectionately along their partner’s arms. He tried not to feel too bitter about it, and instead leaned back against the wall, staring at the plain pink wallpaper, picking at his waistcoat. The very height of ultimate, unwavering, unchanging boredom.

He had decided on a black waistcoat instead of his usual navy blue, though did not dare remove the embroidered aspect. However, the thread pierced the fabric with a shimmering carmine red — his favourite colour. His slacks were a similar black to the base silk of the waistcoat, and his shirt was, too, black with red floral patterning printed onto it. All in all, a very nice outfit. He saw no need to ruin it with a jacket. However, Edison had decided on bringing a top-hat with him, but this remained gripped in his hand whenever he found a moment of solitude away from the crowds. He felt comfortable in the minimal clothing despite the stares, and the discomfort only started when people paid less and less attention to him. So he occasionally ran his hands through his neatly-slicked hair, where a curl would pop out spontaneously and refuse to stay set in place again. He would lick his fingers and try to smooth it down, or tuck it beneath a thickly-gelled strand of hair, but it seemed content to hang over his face like a carrot in front of a horse. Eventually, he simply left it there, and blew on it occasionally to entertain himself with a light tickle.

‘Oh my! Do my eyes belie me?’ A shrill voice interrupted Edison’s aching boredom, and he would have sprung up if it sounded the slightest bit more pleasant than Charlotte Longhurst’s falsely-sweet voice. Edison made an effort to turn around, but pressed himself into the balcony more, shrinking away. ‘Isn’t it just a… delight to see you here?’ mumbled Charlotte through gritted teeth.

She was cloaked in something more Parisian than the rest of those in attendance; a dress with an obscene level of frills and fringes layered on top of each other, supported by a bustle, giving a more 1870’s-reminiscent silhouette to Charlotte’s lower half. On her head, however, she (of course, it was her signature item) donned a large hat, complete with feathers and flowers and fluff and the like, all exploding upon one another in a bright cascade of red hues. She clutched a pink fan in her hand also, at full extension and fanning furiously at her face, the rose pattern of the fabric fully visible as she glared up at Edison. The clouds of wispy pink cotton sewn into the top of the fan fluttered back and forth with each oscillating beat.

Edison made no effort to even smile, raising an eyebrow. His voice remained flat and deathly unenthused. ‘What are you doing here?’

‘I ask you the question in kind,’ bit back Charlotte in a far more aggressive tone.

‘Well, if you must know,’ he paused to take a long sip of wine, ‘I was invited.’

She expected more explanation but, upon realising that was all the reasoning there was to his attendance, let out a cross between a scoff and a laugh. ‘You? Invited anywhere? Please, Mr. Hollingsworth, do not forget yourself. The only place you may hope to find yourself invited is the Royal Bethlehem. Anyone hoping to invite you somewhere willingly must surely be…’ Charlotte gained a smile, ‘mentally lost.’

‘The Royal Beth is the same place, in turn, that you may hope to find yourself a man who loves women, let alone your sorry self,’ Edison chimed in with a smile, letting more wine trickle down his throat as Charlotte spluttered in offence. Trying to regain her composure, she shook her head and clutched her fan tighter, batting Edison over the cheek with it harshly, leaving a soft pink mark in its wake.

‘Nerve and audacity that cannot be measured in one’s words or one’s actions!’ exclaimed Charlotte, cheeks flushing from deep brown to coppery red. ‘It is a marvel — truly a marvel — that anyone would even conceive the thought that it would ever be a good idea to invite you to an esteemed event. The host of this gala must be, at his base—’

Noticing that Edison’s eyes had drifted elsewhere, Charlotte turned around to see a tall, dark, handsome gentleman standing beside her. Just an inch or so shorter than Edison, a hand twirling around a thick bunch of straight, black hair, moving then to his chin, stroking his goatee with a gloved hand. ‘What must the host of this gala be at his base, Miss Longhurst?’

Immediately, she felt her face heat to temperatures unimaginable, fumbling over her words as an anxious grin overtook her face. ‘Lord Sotheby, I — I forget myself, please, ah — accept a thousand of my sincerest apologies,’ her words hurried out, and she even wanted to curtsy before he gestured for her to leave.

‘Please, Miss Longhurst. If you would step aside,’ a flat hand ushered where he wanted space for himself to appear, ‘I would very much like to acquaint myself with the wonderful gentleman over here.’

Charlotte’s eyes flicked between Edison, who was now starting to grin with a coy expression, and Lord Sotheby, whose expression was something more akin to desire. Her expression slackened with shock, but she then decided he was merely ignorant, and felt it pertinent to correct him. ‘Lord Sotheby, you — you must not know who this gentleman is.’ Her eyes narrowed at Edison. ‘Perhaps that is why he is in attendance in the first—’

‘No, Miss Longhurst, it is you who is mistaken.’ He stepped forward, a hand gently tracing Edison’s shoulder with lowering eyelids. ‘I am acutely aware of Mr. Hollingsworth and his… reputation.’

‘B — but he—’ Charlotte tried to interject—

Lord Sotheby was less impressed with her display. ‘Miss Longhurst, please. It would be most convenient if you exit my presence.’ Again, with a flat hand, he made a swift flick of his wrist and opened the space for her to leave. With a tight, high-pitched harrumph, she picked up the fabric of her dress and hurried off in a whimper, not daring to make any other comments in the face of the gala’s host.

Edison tried to push back the curl of hair over his face again, lifting his head with a sly grin. ‘A thousand thanks, Lord So—’

‘Lionel is quite sufficient.’ He took two steps forward to press himself against Edison, who was backed into the corner of the wall and mezzanine and did not seem to mind being cornered in such a manner.

He drew a hand along Lionel’s deep purple lapel, taking a gentle hold of it, though not without giving a sharp tug. ‘How about Lio?’ A lascivious smile came along Edison’s lips, daring to hide himself within the folds of his blazer.

‘If that is what you wish, my dear,’ Lionel let a hand sink through Edison’s slicked curls, releasing the singular wisp of hair and letting it drape along his forehead, taking the excuse to brush it away and smooth his palm over the man’s cheek.

‘So,’ started Edison, a hand placed upon the lord’s own, ‘would you like to make conversation with me, darling? Or would you rather…’ His hand gravitated toward a lock of Lionel’s hair, passing it deftly between his fingers, grinning as his eyes gravitated to what Edison had taken a gentle hold of, ‘let this meeting become more clandestine?’

‘Why hide?’ asked Lionel.

Edison’s smile fell. ‘Why hide?’ he echoed, stuttering out a laugh. ‘Perhaps Miss Longhurst was right — maybe you truly do not know who I am.’

‘Well, you seem to present yourself rather brazenly at various social events. I consider myself rather lucky that you attended mine, considering I have never been in your company and have only… stolen glances every now and then, when possible.’ Lionel’s grip turned surprisingly gentle, his thumb circling Edison’s cheek. ‘Truly, you are an open book and yet an enigma, all composed into one human.’

‘An oxymoron?’ Edison leaned into his grasp, clarifying the term for him.

Leaning dangerously close, Lionel’s nose brushed up against Edison’s. ‘Precisely. And just as engaging as the literary technique itself.’

Breath hitching, Edison very nearly lost all composure, pushing himself upward the slightest bit more. The very peaks of his lips brushed against Lionel’s with each whispered word. ‘Another oxymoron for you — kissing me is a good and bad idea.’

‘I have never cared much for good or bad.’ Then their lips met in a fervent kiss, pushing their lips deeply toward each other before pulling away again. A heat rest between their faces before they moved in for another kiss. Lionel finally managed to draw back, his hands on Edison’s waist to maintain the intimate closeness.

‘We should take this elsewhere,’ he managed to murmur.

‘Why hide?’ Edison paid homage to his earlier words, managing a half-smile along wet, glistening lips.

Lionel managed another hum, and joined his lips with Edison’s for a kiss once more.

AUTHOR'S COMMENTS:

lionel is so so SOOOO much fun to write. he is slowly becoming my favourite. i still love edison and the mc and all don't get me wrong but... lionel is becoming my pookie tbh

the title is a reference to a quote from othello ^_^

[starlingsrps]

the nutcracker vol. 1

the nutcracker is a piece of theater that makes cora borderline homicidal every single time she has to perform. suicidal, depending on the conductor and situation. she's played in the pit for ballets before and that's an experience she'd rather pull off her left pinky than ever do again. cso doesn't do much with the nutcracker, thank fuck, but they have some new director of fundraising that came in hot with the wretched idea to have the orchestra play along a projected recording of the ballet.

and then have a gala.

the nutcracker and a gala is just about cora's limit for christmas cheer but she'd be an idiot if she didn't recognize that that, as far as christmas fundraising schemes went, was brilliant. there was no way that wouldn't get asses in seats and open wallets.

so, though she curses the director with every breath, she polishes her memory on the score, airs out her formal concert blacks, and invites liam to be her guest.

she shouldn't invite liam. probably. she enjoys their time together - he gets her and there are few people that truly do - and she would call him a friend but she also knows he's the kind of person who assigns a lot of value to the holidays and gets sentimental about these kinds of things. it's not a date, she says, when she asks him to go with her while she's eating a piece of pizza and wearing his shirt. it would just be nice to have someone she knows at the gala afterwards.

he nods like that makes perfect sense and like he hasn't just eaten her out and asks if he needs a tie.

it's nice knowing there's someone out there for her, she thinks as she changes into her gown backstage and then immediately kicks herself. she could have asked david - he's home from lisbon for the month and would have been delighted to eat and drink on cso's dime for the evening and been a perfect amount of bitchy - but /no. she has liam sitting among the rest of the string section's families and he's probably made five new best friends already.

the performance goes well (cora tends to leave her body when the nutcracker is involved) and liam is waiting for her at stage door when she comes out, cheeks red from the cold and with a big smile that she can't help but smile back at when she sees.

"you were great," he says, kissing her hello. "didn't look like you'd rather be having a lobotomy at all."

she laughs and kisses him because while this isn't a date, she's happy to see him. "oh, thank you. i tried, just for you."

"so proud of my little trooper." he takes her hand between his gloved one and rubs. "jesus cora, gloves?"

she shrugs and he rolls his eyes, tucking her hand into his coat pocket with his. it's sweet. and it's not a date but it is cold and she left her gloves at home. it's not a date but while they're walking up to the cultural center, he keeps making her laugh and she kisses him at stop lights. she's not a romantic but the city is beautiful at night at christmas with the lights and breeze off the lake...it's easy to get a little caught up.

if this was a night she'd been dreading, it goes better than she could have expected. it is what she expected - medium-decent passed appetizers and lukewarm cocktails while mingling with people who think they understand classical music because they played violin as kids. but liam can make conversation with just about anyone and stays close enough that when he slips away while she's discussing saint-saens with a booster, she misses him when she realizes he's gone.

she doesn't have time to feel weird about it before he's back, his hand sliding to the small of her back like it belongs there. and it's nice to feel like, just for a night, that it could. they eat the medium-decent appetizers and drink a few too many lukewarm cocktails and tumble into a shared cab heading north when the night is over.

cora lets her head rest on his shoulder because it feels like it weighs a million pounds and he's warm and smells nice. his lips brush against her hair and she sighs contentedly. she's tipsy and tired but his hand on her knee through the slit in her skirt has her thinking she may have just a little more energy left tonight.

"my place?" he asks, voice a low rumble.

it's absolutely not a date but she still lifts her head up to say yes.

[missmeinyourbones]

𝐏𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄 𝐈𝐒 𝐀 𝐕𝐈𝐑𝐓𝐔𝐄 (gojo satoru x reader)

inspired from this list of prompts | wc: 0.8k+

Satoru looks so handsome, it’s borderline annoying. 

He’s dressed up all nice—not that he doesn't usually carry himself well, but it’s a safe bet that the tailored suit currently hugging his broad shoulders does more for him than his usual navy uniform. 

The gala he’ll be attending shortly is an annual Jujutsu event—one of high level sorcerers and prestigious clans and people with far more money that you can fathom. It only makes sense for the strongest sorcerer to be in attendance. 

Satoru had begged you to come by his side, let him show you off like a trophy on his hip, but you declined his offer. Not wanting to insert yourself into the center of Jujutsu society, you assured your boyfriend that you’d be waiting up for him back home, with a warm bed and maybe even a few kisses—if he behaves. 

Just as you’re about to send him off for the night, you teasingly remind him once more of his behavior. 

“Be good out there,” you taunt him, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. He instantly heats up at the feeling of your lips dancing on his skin. 

“Course,” he beams with a mischievous smile, “aren’t I always?”

You answer his rhetorical question with a roll of your eyes, which only makes his smile grow wider and the love in his eyes all the more fond.

You step away from him, taking once last look at your handsome lover before ultimately shipping him away, but something catches your attention—a soft hue of red blush decorating the bulb of his cheek. Not from his flustered expression, no, but from the lipstick you’d forgotten you were wearing. 

“Wait! Come here,” you beckon a finger that Satoru instinctually follows without realizing.

He saunters your way, perhaps thinking he’s getting another kiss, before he watches you lick the pad of your thumb and signal for his cheek.

“You can’t go out there like that,” you mumble, stepping closer to him. Satoru shimmies out of your hold and makes a beeline for the nearest mirror in your hallway. 

Noticing the outline gracing his cheek, he glows. “Huh, oh—wait! Keep it!” 

“No, Satoru,” you scold him, walking towards him once more before finally getting your hands on him. 

He pouts childishly when you lick your thumb a second time, “Why not, angel?”

He raises an entertained brow at your face of confusion, “Think of it as you marking your territory. What if someone thinks I’m single and tries to steal me away?”

With a scoff, your thumb begins to rub the blushing mark from his pale cheek.

“They’ll return you once you open your mouth.”

Satoru writhes in your hold, which is comical given his giant stature, “Baby, nooooooo!”

As if the removal causes him physical pain, he whimpers and wails as your thumb further dissolves the sweet pigmentation on his pale skin. 

He’s back to pouting as he grumbles, “You’re supposed to say ‘you wouldn’t let that happen, ‘Toru, you love me too much!’ or something similar.”

As you shoot another glare his way, something about Satoru’s expression softens the sarcasm threatening to spill over your lips. Maybe it’s his glossy eyes carefully watching your own, or the corners of his plush lips slightly turning upwards as he fights off a smirk. Whatever it may be, the lovesick look on your lover’s face has you rethinking his request. 

You lean in once more, and a part of Satoru thinks you’re going to kiss his cheek again. But fool him once, shame on him. Fool him twice...

Your mouth lands lower than he expects it to, and he doesn’t feel your lips on his skin as you fool around by his neck. It’s moments like these where Gojo thinks of the irony of his technique. The cruel and contrasting paradox of his infinity when all he wants to do it touch you, be held by you, feel your lips flutter against his skin.

It takes him a moment to realize the effect of your sly actions. Right there, against the stark white polyester of his collar, is your blushing lip stain embroidered into the material, practically glistening for all to see. 

“Like I said,” you hum into the crook of his neck before meeting his eyes once more, “be good out there.”

Filled with butterflies and an odd sense of pride, Satoru stands up a little taller. 

He tips his head to you, ‘Yes, boss.”

He attends the event with ugrency, wanting it to be over as quicky as it can begin, for he now has places to be that are far more important than here. 

He knows you’ll be in bed once the dinner party is over. He’ll just have to wait. 

After all, they do say patience is a virtue—and for the first time in his life, Satoru is willing to find out if there’s any truth to that statement.

[missluthorwillseeyounow]

Hii! If you want to: For the trope mashup: 12. Roommate Au + 63. Mistaken for a couple?

"How does my lipstick look, babe?"

Kelly finishes applying the light coat of plum lipstick onto her lower lip, and turns around for her girlfriend's inspection. Behind her, Alex grins.

"Like it wants me to kiss it off." An arm snakes around Kelly's waist, and she finds herself pressed against her girlfriend's wiry frame. Alex smirks, but she's careful to kiss the corner of Kelly's mouth to make sure she doesn't smudge her makeup.

"You look beautiful, as always. But like I told you, you don't have to look perfect today. It's just my sister." Alex's smile turns sweet, and her eyes soften as her intimate embrace turns into a comforting hug. "Kara's gonna love you, no matter how you look."

Kelly touches her cheek, smiling when Alex nuzzles into her hand. "I know, I just want to make a good impression."

Alex kisses her palm. "This goes both ways, you know. She'll be wanting to make a good impression on you too. She's probably driving Lena crazy rearranging their furniture for the twentieth time today."

Kelly tips her head curiously. "Lena?"

"Yeah. Her roommate." There's an exasperated note in Alex's voice that doesn't go unnoticed.

"Wait, Lena as in Lena Luthor? James's girlfriend?" Kelly's interest is piqued. "I knew Lena was sharing her apartment with a friend, and I know you said Kara had a roommate, but I didn't realize that the two of them lived together. Small world, huh?"

"Oh, it's about to get a lot smaller, babe." A grim smile accompanies the ominous words, but Kelly puts it down to Alex being dramatic. "You'll see."

Kara and Lena's apartment turns out to be a lovely pre-war brownstone in the quieter side of town, far enough away from the noise of the city, but close enough for a short commute.

The first thing Kelly sees when the door bursts open is a wide, beaming smile that's familiar to her from the photos on Alex's phone. Kara Danvers's smile radiates from a cellphone screen, but it's even brighter and lovelier in person.

"Hi, you must be Kelly! Welcome! It's so nice to meet you! I've heard so much about you from Alex and James, I feel like I know you already!"

Kelly barely gets a glimpse of blonde hair and blue eyes before she's swept into a friendly hug amidst the babble. She returns it as warmly, if not as enthusiastically. "It's great to finally meet you too, Kara."

Over Kara's shoulder, Kelly sees Lena Luthor saunter into the room at a much more sedate pace, a wry smile on her lips. "She's a hugger."

"Lena, hi." Once Kelly is released, she reaches a hand toward her brother's girlfriend.

"Hi, Kelly." Lena greets her with a delicate kiss to her cheek and a warm smile. "Always good to see you."

Kara blinks at both of them, looking between Kelly and Lena.

"Wait, you guys know each other...? Oh, right! James. Pfft." Kara smacks herself on the head with a sheepish smile. "Of course, I forgot."

Alex makes the strangest noise at that, something between a disgruntled snort and a derisive laugh. Kara blushes lightly and determinedly avoids Alex's eyes. Kelly turns to her girlfriend, but Alex just shakes her head.

The moment passes, and they're swept into the living room with offers of coffee, tea and snacks. As they move further into the apartment, Kelly immediately notices certain things.

The living room is bright and inviting, with large windows to let in natural light. There's art tastefully adorning the wall. Some rather expensive pieces that Kelly recognizes from the art classes she took in college, mixed with a few pieces that have a "KD" signature on the corners.

There's a lot of photos too, all of them featuring Kara and Lena together. Some framed and hung in places of honor on the walls, like the black-and-white picture of Kara and Lena, obviously taken at a gala, standing close with their arms around each other's waists.

Some are unframed -- like a grinning selfie of them together; a solo picture of Lena standing in front of an arcade booth, shyly tucking her head into a giant plushie; a photo of Kara painting at an easel; and a snapshot of Kara and Lena lounging outside what Kelly recognizes as Lena's summer lake house -- each tacked affectionately onto the refrigerator door with cute little magnets, along with ticket stubs and other mementos.

As the visit progresses, Kelly's observation shifts and hones in on the two women themselves.

Kara is delightfully enthusiastic as she questions Kelly about her job, her hobbies, how long she's lived in National City, how she and Alex met, if she's ever had any pets. There's a genuine curiosity to her questions, eager without being interrogating, interested without trying to intimidate -- as if she really just genuinely wants to know more about her sister's girlfriend.

And she and Lena are clearly very at ease together. They weave around each other fluidly -- Lena passing the mug Kara's reaching for before she even asks for it, Kara gently shifting Lena away from the home espresso machine so she can take over making the coffee.

This really shouldn't be surprising, considering they live together and they've introduced each other as "best friends". But there's something about the naked affection between them that surprises Kelly.

She's known Lena for a couple of years now, has seen her enough times to form an impression of her. When James had first taken Lena home to meet their family, Lena had been perfectly polite and lovely toward them, all smiles and poised grace, a bottle of Cheval Blanc in one hand and a bouquet of their mother's favorite azaleas in the other.

But as affable as Lena had been during each visit, Kelly had the feeling that Lena had never truly relaxed in their company, no matter how friendly they had been. There had never been any outward anxiety or awkwardness, but Kelly had gotten the sense that she was very carefully choosing every word, controlling every move, so as not to make a mistake. And while Kelly is never one for armchair diagnosing anyone -- especially not someone who is, for all intents and purposes, a friend -- her clinical brain had been skimming lightly over 'OCPD' and 'anxiety disorder' whenever she and Lena hung out.

So, to see Lena so comfortable and relaxed, so blatantly affectionate and intimate with another person, is admittedly a surprise to Kelly. Not a bad one, just... unexpected. And interesting.

Kelly observes both women keenly.

Kara joins them in the living room, balancing two cups of coffee in her hands. One she hands carefully to Kelly with a bright grin, and the other she places gently on the table in front of Lena. When Lena turns to her with a grateful smile, Kara bends down and presses a soft kiss to the top of her head. Lena closes her eyes for a moment and leans slightly closer to Kara.

Kelly tips her head curiously at them. "So... how long have you two been together?"

Lena blinks and turns away from Kara to pick up her own cup, blushing lightly. She clears her throat before taking a sip, but Kara just looks at her, grinning widely.

"Oh, we met about a year and half ago, when I did an article on her new nanobot technology. We nerded out so much together that the interview turned into lunch, then coffee, then dinner."

Kara leans toward Lena and nudges her lightly with her shoulder. "She was so brilliant and fascinating, and so passionate about her new projects that we couldn't stop talking. By the time I was ready to leave, I realized the office was empty, and Lena's assistant had left hours ago."

A soft shy smile graces Lena's face, and she ducks her head. "Kara's one of the few people who can keep up and actually challenge me when we're discussing nanotechnology and bioengineering."

On anybody else -- hell, even on the Lena that Kelly had been accustomed to -- it would sound arrogant and condescending. But Lena says it so softly, and she looks at Kara with such genuine adoration, that it can't be mistaken as anything but a sincere compliment. Kara lays a hand on Lena's, squeezing her fingers gently.

"We've been best friends ever since! And we just became so much closer since we moved in together. It's been, what, almost a year?" Kara looks to Lena for confirmation.

"Eleven months next week, darling." Lena says fondly as she stands to refill the pastry plate. Kelly looks between the two women and observes the soft bright gaze Kara sends Lena as she disappears into the kitchen.

"Eleven awesome months!" Kara beams as she takes a bite of her pastry. Across from her, Alex rolls her eyes heavenward.

Despite the occasional oddness, Kelly enjoys their visit. Kara and Lena are excellent company, and they're all having such a lovely time that Kelly and Alex decide to stay longer.

Toward the evening, the four of them end up getting dinner at a quiet little Italian bistro near the apartment.

They're getting into the wine when Kelly finally thinks it's safe to bring up the elephant in the room. She sets her wine glass down and regards Kara with a thoughtful smile.

"So, Kara... James told me that you were his friend, but he didn't tell me you were his meta as well."

Alex chokes on her wine, and Kelly serenely rubs her back. Alex coughs and attempts to hide an amused smirk behind her napkin.

"His what?" Kara blinks up at Kelly, her brows forming a confused crinkle on her forehead.

"His meta," Kelly prompts as clearly and as gently as she can. "You know, his metamour?"

"What's a metamour?" The crinkle on Kara's forehead grows, and she and Lena exchange a bewildered look.

Kelly studies both women closely. "It's the term used in polyamorous relationships for the partner of your partner."

"The partner of my...." It takes a few seconds, but it's clear when the realization hits Kara. Her cheeks bloom a bright red, and her eyes widen. Her mouth drops open, choking out a few stuttering sounds before she can speak again. "Oh. Oh. That's um -- I-I'm not, um-- Lena's, uh--"

Lena is the first to be coherent, and she swiftly snatches her hand back from where it had been resting next to Kara's on the table. Her lips narrow and a blush rises high on her cheeks. "Kara and I are just... friends."

Kara's face is fire-engine red, and she coughs out an awkward, almost manic laugh. "Yeah, no. We're not -- p-poly -- not that there's anything wrong with that, but um-- that's not us..."

Her breathless laugh trails off into a desperate wheeze, and she turns back to her plate of gnocchi, staring hard as if contemplating burying her face in it. Beside her, Lena discreetly throws back half the wine in her glass.

"My mistake," Kelly smiles, contrite. "I shouldn't have assumed."

Thankfully, the waiter arrives at the table, asking how they're enjoying their food, and they all jump at the distraction, assuring him that they find it all delicious. Once the waiter leaves, Kelly redirects the conversation to her trip to Italy a few years ago.

For the rest of the night, Kara makes a valiant attempt at a cheerful front, but it's clear that most of the wind has been taken out of her sails. Lena makes it through the rest of the dinner with a tight smile.

When they all finally part, and Alex slides into the car at the end of the night, Kelly turns to her girlfriend, widening her eyes. "Well. That was..."

Alex bursts out into a laugh, shaking her head. "I know, right?? I told you!"

"Wow..." Kelly shakes her head with a small chuckle. As Alex starts the car, she pulls out her phone and starts typing. Alex looks at her curiously.

"What are you doing?"

"I'm texting my Mom for her peach cobbler recipe," Kelly explains without looking up. "James may like to pretend he's all tough and stoic and unaffected after a breakup, but nothing makes him cry like our Mom's peach cobbler. It's very nostalgic for him."

Alex gives her a curious glance out of the corner of her eye as she pulls out onto the street. "You think my sister's gonna break James and Lena up?"

Kelly gives her a knowing smile. "I mean, babe... I like your sister, Kara seems like she wouldn't hurt a fly. And Lena's a nice person... But given what we saw tonight, I think we both know how that's gonna end up. And I still need to be there for my brother when he inevitably gets his heart broken."

"Fair enough."

...

...

When they visit Kara and Lena at their apartment again a few months later, nothing has changed.

It's the same cozy, pre-war apartment with large windows and high ceilings. The decor hasn't changed, and the same photos of Kara and Lena adorn the walls and the fridge.

The only thing that's different is that when Kara hands Lena her coffee, she doesn't kiss Lena on the top of her head. Instead, Kara puts down the coffee and gives Lena a sweet, lingering kiss on the lips instead.

While Alex pretends to gag and Kara throws a couch pillow at her head, Kelly smiles and lifts her coffee cup at Lena.

"Glad you finally figured that out."

Lena ducks her head shyly, but there's no carefully controlled tightness, no hidden anxiety in her eyes as she returns Kelly's smile. She takes a delicate sip from her cup.

"So am I."

[jadequeen88]

Accidental Valentine

◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈◈

This is my fic for The Citrus Dome Server Lover’s Day Literature Collab! Please go check out The Masterlist and support all of the amazing artists and writers that have contributed.🖤

A/N: WHEW guys... I don’t think I’ve put this much work into a fic EVER. I’ve been feeling pretty bad about my body and wanted to write a reader who struggled with it as well. Who better to boost your confidence than DILF Kiri feeding your praise kink?! I was heavily influenced by this amazing drabble by @rat-suki​ and got permission to use it as my inspiration for this fic.🖤 (for reference, reader is 30 and Kirishima is 42)

Thanks to @afictionalwhore and my dear friend Orchid for the beta read!🖤

RetiredProHero!Kirishima x YoungerF!Reader

Word Count: 5.3k

TW: size difference, oral (both receiving), daddy kink, praise kink (lots and lots of praise), TBH the sex is pretty vanilla but very passionate, both are insecure about their bodies.

When you trudged into work this morning, you didn’t ever dream of meeting your childhood idol/crush, but here you are, staring up at a beautiful mountain of a man. Eijiro Kirishima, or retired pro hero Red Riot, had never come into your coffee shop before and you’d never imagined he would. He was huge. Nearly 7 ft tall and built like a brick house. His hair was back to his natural black with flecks of silver at his temples and hung long and wild around his shoulders. He had on a pair of glasses and wore a dark maroon sweater and jeans.

Even though he’s aged, he looks just as handsome as the young man you fell for as a girl.

The year he made his debut, you were only six, and like most other six-year-olds, you idolized the pro heroes. Most of your friends loved Deku or Dynamite, but you always loved Red Riot. His smile, warmth, and his fiercely protective nature made your tiny heart burst with admiration. Throughout his hero career, you kept up with all of his interviews, the battles he’d been in, the awards he’d won, and his hero rankings. You’d also gotten as much merch as possible over the years and still wore your worn-out, oversized Red Riot t-shirt to sleep in. When he retired a couple of years ago, you still scanned articles online trying to gather bits and pieces of information about the hero, but he wasn’t one to seek out the spotlight. You think that’s probably why he’d always been your favorite. He was a true hero. Serving the citizens and keeping them safe was his top priority. You didn’t want to admit it, but you kept up with him for one main reason… You wanted to know if he was seeing anyone.

You remember being eaten up with jealousy when you’d see his arm around another woman going to galas and award ceremonies. Your sixteen-year-old brain knew that of course, he’d date women. He was a grown man and a pro hero. But your heart would ache, wanting to be the one his soft eyes and pointy-toothed grin was fixed on.

Now those same eyes were fixed on you, his mouth moving and forming words, but you were too star-struck to hear what he was saying. When you snapped out of your daze and remembered you were supposed to be taking his order, you were mortified.

“I-I’m so sorry sir! Could you please repeat that?”

“Sure thing!” his bright smile was hypnotizing, “Just a venti-sized flat white. Have you had your coffee yet? Ya looked a little far away there for a second, kid.”

Your heart leaped at the little nickname. “Yeah, sorry about that! I guess I should get a couple of shots of espresso in me before I try to be productive.” You chuckle nervously as you scribble his order on the cup and turn to make his drink.

“Oh, uhh…” he peeks around the counter to get your attention, “Do you need my name? For the order?”

You freeze realizing you forgot basic, barista 101 etiquette…

“Actually,” you face him, a sheepish grin on your face, avoiding eye contact, “I know your name. You… umm, were my favorite hero,” you blush, and your eyes widen in embarrassment, “you know when I was a kid...”

You turn back to your work, kicking yourself for being so awkward. 

“Really? I think you’re the first person to recognize me since ya know,” he circled his head with his pointer finger, “I stopped dying my hair..”

You turned your head to peer up at him through your dark lashes, a light dusting of blush still on your cheeks, “Well, I like it. It looks good on you.”

The retired pro’s heart was bursting at how damned cute you were. Was this pretty, young girl… embarrassed? Over him?! He watched your tiny hands move as they worked on his drink order, wondering how small they’d feel grasped in his massive ones. Your soft hair caught in the sunlight making you look like a literal angel and he sighed. You reached up to grab a canister from the top shelf and a sliver of soft skin between your t-shirt and jeans peeked through. His gaze became far away and he damn near drooled at the sight. Just how long had it been since he’d touched another woman? Kirishima wasn’t one for casual flings. He always got too invested in whoever he was seeing. So when he and his long-time girlfriend broke things off a couple of years ago, he wasn’t rushing back into the dating scene.

However, things were a little more… complicated than just not finding the right girl to commit to. He was getting older and it was starting to show. Over the past few years, he’d lost his confidence. He’s bulkier around the middle no matter what workouts or diets he tries. Overuse of his quirk has caused stretchmarks and scars all over his skin. He was starting to get crow’s feet and he was overall just TOO big and TOO hairy. He felt like some sort of gorilla walking around in human clothing. Kirishima isn’t stupid or trying to fool himself. A young, gorgeous thing like you wasn’t looking for anything from an old, washed-up man like him. But, fuck… It was nearly impossible for him to move his gaze away from your ass… Oh, the things he’d do to you if he were a few years younger...

You turned to look over your shoulder and notice his gaze… and it’s apparent that he’s checking you out. He looks like a man starved, eyes glued to your ass.

“Well, well, well… maybe he wasn’t so annoyed with my fangirling after all.”

When he realized you’d gone still, his eyes met yours and he quickly averted his gaze. His cheeks turned as red as his hair used to be. You busied yourself with the milk steamer to hide your big, goofy grin. With a new burst of confidence, you decide to take a chance and when you go to write his name on his to-go cup, you write

 “Big Red <3” 

You pause, bite your lip, and think to yourself, “why the hell not?” as you scribble your number underneath the nickname. You turn to give him his drink and your nerves almost make you retreat and make a whole new drink. Then he meets your gaze and your world stops spinning. His vermillion eyes crinkle at the edges as his scared lips turn upwards into a syrupy sweet smile.

When Kirishima takes his drink from you, your fingers brush his for the briefest second and he can tell they’re trembling. “Oh no, I hope I haven’t made her nervous or uncomfortable.” He wanted to go crawl in a hole… That was until he saw what you’d written on his cup.

He stammers, looking from the cup to your face like he’s checking to see if you’re pulling a prank on him or not. Before he can say anything, you bite your lip and look up at him. 

“I’m off work this Sunday. Just… if you’d like to hang out or something.” your gaze shifts and you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. 

After a moment or two, his face lights up in a huge grin. “Y-yeah, great!” he turns and walks a few steps, then turns around and motions at the cup, “So… I should just, ahh… text you?”

You giggle and it’s the sweetest sound he’s heard in a long time, “That would be nice, yeah.”

“Okay, great!... Talk later then!” He waves and leaves the coffee shop, feeling light as a feather and ten years younger.

*****

Sunday rolls around and you spend the morning making sure the place is cleaner than it’s been in weeks. Your place was small but cozy. For a fleeting moment, you’re a little insecure about how modest your apartment is. You don’t know exactly how wealthy pros are when they retire, but you know he’s more familiar with much nicer places than yours. You decide he probably knew just what to expect on a barista’s salary and tried to put it out of your mind. You checked on the cookies baking in the oven. When you found out through your text conversations that he loved chocolate chip cookies with the large chunks of dark chocolate baked in, you went out and bought everything to make them the same day. You kept watching over them like a hawk to avoid burning them. They still looked pretty gooey, so you decided it would be safe to get changed into something a little nicer. Just as you were about to turn the corner into your bedroom, your doorbell rang.

“Shit!” you looked at your phone and sure enough, you let time get away from you. He was here and you were still in your cropped leggings and t-shirt, sporting a messy bun and dirty apron. You groaned as you realized you couldn’t leave him on your doorstep while you changed. Defeated, you hurried to the door.

You opened the door, hoping that you at least didn’t have flour in your hair, and looked up into the much larger man’s eyes. The realization that THE Red Riot was standing this close to you made your stomach flutter and a goofy grin slide across your face. While you stood there star-struck, he broke the silence.

“Wow, it smells amazing in here!”

“Oh!” you jumped a little then promptly ran over to your oven, “Sorry! Please come on in!” you said over your shoulder as you were pulling your oven mitts on. 

Kirishima walked into your cozy apartment and instantly felt at ease. He couldn’t pinpoint just what it was, but something about your place felt more like home than any place he’d ever lived before. As he finished scanning your apartment, his eyes landed on you taking the cookies out of the oven. The comfortable, domestic feel of the place coupled with your ass on full display as you bent down to remove the cookies from the oven had his jeans tightening. You stood up and he averted his gaze before you turned around, not wanting to get caught checking your ass out for a second time.

“Fair warning, I’m not a talented baker by any means,” you removed your oven mitts after placing the cookie sheets on the cooling rack and flashed a sly grin his way, “But when Red Riot tells you what his favorite cookies are… Ya kinda gotta make them, right?”

Oh… If you only knew how pent up this man was… he debated bending you over right then and there and fucking you until you couldn’t walk. He really hit the jackpot with you… a hot, younger woman with the perfect ass who bakes him cookies and for some reason thinks he hung the moon? Kirishima would have given you a ring right then and there if he didn’t think it would scare you off.

“Well,” he radiated warmth as he looked between you and the cookies cooling on the rack, “If you’re not the sweetest thing! I, ahh… might have gotten you a little something too.” he then held up a 6 pack of your favorite cider. “Because when Y/N, L/N tells you what her favorite cider is… Ya kinda gotta get her some.” he winked and you felt your knees buckle and your cheeks burn. You felt like you were in a fairytale.

Then you remembered that the princesses in fairytales definitely did not wear flour-riddled black leggings, old t-shirts, and dirty aprons.

“OH! Umm, I need to go get cleaned up. I’ll only be a minu-” his massive hand wrapped around your wrist as you walked past him. It covered half of your forearm and a shudder ran through you. You wanted those giant hands to roam every inch of your body.

“Please don’t,” his eyes were half-lidded and his voice was low, “...I think you look beautiful like this.” his calloused thumb traced little circles on your skin not meeting your gaze. His deep voice was impossibly tender.

Now that you’d felt his skin on yours, you couldn’t contain your churning desires any longer. You wanted, needed, more. Rising up on your tiptoes, you curled your fist into Kirishima’s shirt collar and pulled his face toward yours.

You felt him tense up for a moment, then relax into the kiss. His massive hands found purchase on your hips, digging into the pliant flesh there. A needy whimper caught in his throat spurring you on to deepen the kiss. 

It was like your bodies were working around each other in perfect harmony… lips parting at a slow pace, like honey dripping from the edge of a spoon and tongues meeting in the middle to taste each other. You both savored the kiss for as long as you could, eyes lazily drifting open and shared breaths causing your hearts to dance out of your chests. 

You saw him falter, his gaze dropping, and you feared that you overstepped. 

“Kirishima I-“

“Ejiro,” he stopped you with a hand against your cheek, “Call me Eijiro…” his thumb caressed your bottom lip slowly, back and forth. His touch held so much devotion in it.

“Eijiro…” you sighed, looking up at him with pleading eyes, “I need you…”

The giant of a man before you swept you up into his arms and began walking down your hallway. You quickly wrapped your arms and legs around his hulking frame as if you were climbing a tree. 

“Second door on the right,” you were panting into his neck, leaving sloppy kisses all over it. 

You blew a cool stream of air along his damp skin and felt him shudder. A giggle bubbled up from your chest at being able to weaken a retired pro-hero known for being a human shield against the worst villains Japan has ever known. Your little stunt resulted in a grunt and a firm, warning squeeze to your thigh.

“So that’s what we’re doing today, huh?” he tosses you on the bed just hard enough to make you bounce up a little… then he’s on you, placing light kisses all along your neck as he prods your sides looking for a ticklish spot. You can’t remember the last time you laughed this hard and the fact that it was your idol drawing it from you made you dizzy with joy.

“Mercy! Mercy!” you were breathless and your abdomen ached from the forceful laughs Ejiro was pulling from you. He blew a raspberry on your neck as a final tease then relented, sitting up to meet your gaze.

You were absolutely smitten. You caressed the lines around his eyes and the scar that split his lips as your eyes roamed across his features. Every crease, every scar… you wanted to kiss them all. When his gaze faltered and he pulled away to sit beside you on the bed, the feeling you’d done something wrong resurfaced. You sat up beside him and placed your hand on his thigh.

“Eijiro…” your voice was barely above a whisper, “I’m sorry, I know I can come on a little strong sometimes, and I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just…” your eyes meet and his gaze is unreadable.

“No, no…” his ruby eyes drop to the floor, “It’s just that,” he chuckles nervously, “Well, it’s been a while. I’m not very good with casual flings and the like. So I don’t really date much…”

You rise to your feet and move to stand in front of him. Sitting in front of you on your bed, you’re only slightly below eye level with him. You place your tiny hands on his thick thighs and nudge them apart so you can slot your hips between them.

“When I told you that you were my favorite hero,” you reach for his wrist and remove the hair tie from it, “What that actually meant was that I’d watch the news every day just to make sure you were safe.” 

Slender fingers move through his wild mane of silver-flecked hair untangling any knots, “It meant that when that villain with the sludge quirk put you in the hospital for a couple of days, my mom let me stay home from school because I was so distraught,” you pulled all of his untangled hair to the nape of his neck and began wrapping the hair tie around it.

“It meant that my silly sixteen-year-old heart would ache when I saw you hand in hand with a girl in a magazine going out on a date,” you grinned at how silly you felt admitting that. Once his hair was secured in a low ponytail, your hands trailed along his broad shoulders.

“Now that I’ve thoroughly embarrassed myself, I’ll get to the point.” your intense gaze held years of longing for the hero in front of you, “Nothing about this is casual for me.”

Tears pricked the corners of Kirishima’s eyes. Had anyone ever showed him this much tender devotion? All the years he’d taken beating after beating, a glorified human shield, content with leaving most of the game to his friends. He was all rough edges and bulk. He was the one doing the protecting every time. Even in his romantic relationships, he was the one who would give, and give, and give… never asking or expecting to be taken care of. Being handled with such care was utterly foreign to him and it stirred up a deep need he never knew was there.

“Eji…” his glassy eyes met yours, “Can I take care of you?” you sank to your knees, hands sliding up his thighs.

“Please…”

Your hands made quick work of his button and zipper. He shifted his hips upwards to help you ease his jeans down his thick thighs and you pulled his jeans and boxers down in one slow pull. Nothing would have prepared you for just how huge he was. Your eyes widened for a fraction of a second, wondering how you’d get that thing to fit inside your cunt, much less your mouth… but it was something you were eager to find out.

Looking up at him from under your dark lashes, you made a show of lewdly licking your lips. You flattened your tongue and drug the wet muscle from his base right above his neatly trimmed patch of black hair, all the way to the swollen, red tip of his head. You felt the powerful muscles in his thighs clench as his head rolled back and a delicious moan escaped his open mouth. Making your hero come undone with one lick to his cock was intoxicating. 

“Fuck, baby…” Kirishima fisted the sheets praying he wouldn’t come just from your teasing. He’s not sure his pride could handle it. It became a very real threat when he dared to look down at you kissing and licking all up and down his length. Once your mouth had gotten him wet enough, your soft hands joined your warm mouth in worshiping his cock. You met his gaze as you kissed his tip and licked up the pre that was escaping in pearlescent beads. When you had teased him to your contentment, you swallowed him down as deep as your throat would allow, wrapped your hand around his base, and moaned.

Kirishima had many blowjobs in his life. In fact, he’d had some that he would say were pretty amazing… but in all his adult life, he’d never been so thoroughly and enthusiastically devoured like this. He threaded his fingers of one hand in your loose bun and fisted your bed sheets in his other to ground himself. After a minute or two, he felt his release creeping up much faster than he wanted.

He placed his hands on either side of your face causing you to stop bobbing your head and look up at him. He ran his thumb against your swollen bottom lip and you leaned into his tender touch. He bends forward and places a kiss on the top of your head.

“Lay down on the bed,” he whispers into your hair. Nerves starting to catch up to you, you shook slightly as you stood from your spot on the floor. Before you lay down, you remember to take your apron off then lay on your pillows, heart pounding awaiting further instruction.

Kirishima hovers over you reminding you yet again just how tiny you are compared to him. His warm hand covers your knee and slowly travels up your thigh, stopping right before he meets your throbbing core. He runs his hand back down your thigh to gently nudge your knees apart. Leaning on his forearms, he positions himself between your thighs and you gasp at the friction created where your bodies meet. While planting tender kisses on your neck, he whispers, “I need you to promise that you’ll tell me if I need to stop or if something doesn’t feel okay. Can you do that?”

“Y-yes…” you moan as he nibbles on your earlobe, teasing with his sharp teeth but not breaking your skin.

“Mmm,” he places sweet kisses all along your jaw, your breath catching in your throat, “Good girl.”

Receiving praise from him made your chest swell. You wanted nothing more than to please this man you were rapidly falling for. He sat up, legs folded under his body, and slowly slid his hands under the hem of your oversized t-shirt. You felt his hands still on your stomach and looked up from where you were laying on your pillows to see what had made him freeze.

He met your gaze with a devilish grin, “Baby girl…” his thumbs run small circles on your skin, “Did you wear this for me?” 

When you realize what he’s talking about, you hide your face and groan into your hands. You completely forgot that you were still in your old Red Riot t-shirt that you usually slept in. “Oh my god, this is so embarrassing!” you mumbled behind your palms.

Kirishima chuckled and shushed you, “No, no, no… This is the sexiest thing you could have possibly worn.” He pulls the hem of your t-shirt up to expose your tummy, burying his face in the soft skin there. Gentle kisses were placed all along the waistline of your leggings, every squishy part and every little stretchmark that decorated your skin like tiny spiderwebs were lovingly caressed with his plush lips. Having the part of your body you were the most self-conscious of worshiped like this felt more vulnerable than sex.

As the kisses traveled higher, they became sloppier and more desperate. You lifted your arms to allow him to remove your shirt, exposing your plain white cotton bra. The feel of his stubble against your skin as he moaned into your cleavage sent shivers down your body. Instead of paying attention to your neglected nipples, his warm mouth carved a path up the column of your throat, head thrown back to give him as much access as possible.

Kirishima whispered against the tender skin under your earlobe, “This okay, baby?” two large fingers dip into the front of your leggings. You nod enthusiastically, unable to form a coherent answer, “Mmm… I need words, sweet thing. You can do that for me, can’t you?”

“Yes… it’s more than okay,” your chests are touching as he works his hand down the front of your pants.

When Kirishima’s thick fingers slid between your drenched folds, you arched your back and grasped his forearm. Slowly, he spread your slick around, dancing past your clit with each stroke. His teasing was turning you into a whimpering mess underneath him. 

He had all the time in the world and having you melt underneath his touch was the best way he could hope to spend it. After what felt like an eternity of him gently brushing against you, only slightly dipping into your needy hole and barely grazing your clit, you were openly panting and whining. A steady stream of praises flowed from his lips.

“You’re such a pretty girl… such a pretty little pussy.”

“Look at how wet you are for me. Like this, huh? My pretty girl likes my fingers teasing her?”

“I can’t wait to lick my fingers clean. You’re gonna taste so sweet.”

You were so worked up that tears began to form in your eyes, “Eji… I-“

“Hmm? What is it, baby girl? Need something?” His finger drags around your clit slowly, adding a fraction more pressure. 

“Please, I need more Eji,” your nails digging into his forearm were leaving little crescents in his thick skin.

“Sweet girl,” he meets your mouth with a slow, wet kiss, “you can have whatever you want.”

Without hesitation, he sits up and pulls your leggings down with your panties. A groan rattles his large chest when he sees a thread of your slick attached to the crotch. Once his face is buried in between your thighs, it’s a real possibility he might come just from eating you out. 

All the teasing had brought him to the edge as well and he was out of patience. With a few hurried kisses to each thigh, he dove into your dripping cleft. His tongue plunged into your core as he nudged his nose into your puffy clit. 

You cry out and convulse around his face. His arms wrap around your thighs, firmly but gently holding your legs open to give him full access to eat you as thoroughly as possible. When he moves to suck your clit, you know you won’t last much longer. As he nurses on your sensitive nub, you feel the familiar tightening in your lower body. He picks up on this and moans into your skin as he greedily sucks. 

“Ahh… Ahh, I’m- I’m gonna….”

“Oh that’s it,” he encourages you by praising you and massaging your thighs in his massive hands, “let me have it, baby girl. Come on, I’ve got you, I’ve got you.”

Your toes curl and back arches as you’re thrown over the edge. “Oh FUCK!! Coming, coming…. ooooh god… ahh D-daddy!…”

“Daddy, is it? Goddamn”

Kirishima felt his dick twitch and his breath caught in his throat.

He wipes his face on the back of his hands and makes a show of licking his fingers clean as he leans over you, nose touching yours.

“What was that baby?” His voice was strained as he pressed his dick into the warm, damp skin of your thigh…

You bat your lashes and ghost your lips over his as you whisper, “Daddy… please let me ride you. I need you inside me.” The nail in Kirishima’s coffin was when you licked his bottom lip then quickly followed with a chaste kiss.

You waste no time wrapping your thighs around his waist and twisting. He follows your lead and lays flat on his back letting you straddle him. You grab the hem of his shirt and similarly tease him, leaving a trail of kisses along his broad stomach. Kirishima flinches a little, self-conscious of his skin and how soft his middle had gotten over the years. You meet his eyes as you pull his shirt over his broad shoulders and run your hands back down his body. 

“Mmm, you have no idea how long I’ve wanted this,” hands and eyes roamed over the expanse of skin in front of you, “It’s even better than in my dreams.”

He wondered for the hundredth time how got this lucky. You really loved his body? Maybe… maybe he wasn’t in as bad of shape as he thought…

“No,” his hands rubbed your hips, kneading your soft skin, “You’re better than I’d ever hoped to find.” He sits upon the headboard and pulls you closer into his lap, “Now,” he pulls your hair free of the messy bun, “Can you be a good girl and come on my cock?”

You lift your hips and place his tip at your entrance. That alone caused a delicious stretch and you knew it would be a slow process getting him to fit comfortably.

“Yes, Daddy,” your hands wrapped around his neck and he growled as he pulled you into a rough kiss.

“Good fuckin girl.” 

He helped lower you onto his cock with lots of kisses, praises, and gentle squeezes. When you got closer to his base, the pain was too much for a moment. Kirishima used his thumb to rub circles into your clit, shushing you sweetly against your parted mouth. 

“Are you okay, baby?” He brushes your hair off your sweaty forehead with his free hand while his other is still working your clit over.

“Yes, Daddy,” you whisper, “You fill me up so well. I love your massive cock filling me up.”

“You’re gonna make me crazy, you know that? Huh?” He pulls your lower lip into his mouth and sucks. You both sit for a while, exchanging kisses and whispers while you adjust to his girth.

“Are you ready to move now, sweet girl?” 

“Yes, Daddy…” he helps you move, dragging your hips up and down his shaft.

After a few deep thrusts, you both increase your pace, matching each other’s movements. It’s not long before your head is thrown back, tears escaping the corners of your eyes. Loud moans and curses escape your mouth as one nipple is pulled into Kirishima’s mouth.

“Oh, Daddy! Fuck, fuck! Right there, right there… I… I’m… AHH!” Before you can even say anything, you’ve come undone, spasming around his cock. 

“Oh, good girl, good fuckin girl,” you go limp and bury your face into his neck while he slams your hips onto his, chasing his release. The feeling of him using your body to get off makes you dizzy with joy. You lean into his ear whispering, “Please come inside me. Wanna feel you come inside me, Daddy… please, need your come inside me, Daddy.” 

Your slurred pleas against his ear send him over the edge into a mind-numbing orgasm. As he comes down from his high and looks into your face full of adoration, he knows he’s caught… hook, line, and sinker. 

*****

The rest of the evening is spent eating cookies on your couch, drinking cider, and watching your favorite crime drama. The sweet kisses and touches sprinkled throughout the night feel so natural… Like you’ve been together for years instead of hours. 

You end up with Kirishima’s head in your lap, running your fingers through his hair as he closes his eyes and relaxes into your touch. The clock on your wall reads 12:30 am and it dawns on you what day it officially is.

“Eji?”

“Hmm?” He opens one eye and reaches up to scratch your scalp. 

“Will you be my valentine?” You bite your bottom lip to stifle a silly grin.

He sits up and pulls you into a bear hug. 

“What kinda silly question is that? Of course. I don’t ever want another valentine besides you.”

Your heart explodes and you kiss him, grabbing his cheeks in both hands. 

“Sixteen-year-old me is absolutely losing her shit right now,” you giggle, rubbing his nose with yours.

“Well,” he grabs your ass and raises an eyebrow, “Forty-two-year-old me is losing his shit right now over finding such a sweet girl with such a sweet ass on her,” he nips at your neck and you squeal.

“Ooh, you ready for another round, old man?”

He growls and throws you over his shoulder. A swift spank to your ass causes you to burst into a fit of laughter. 

“Oh, so I’m dealing with a brat now? You want me to show you what this old man does to little brats?” He squeezes your thighs as he makes his way to the bedroom. 

“But I’m your good girl! Remember?!”

“Yeah, yeah… We’ll see about that.”