#i wanted blonde hair and i wanted it to be pin straight i wanted blue or green eyes

[risingoftime]

home sweet home

⤷ mafia!coriolanus snow x housewife!reader: Coriolanus comes home after a long day at work and needs some tlc.

contains: smut mdni 18+, coriolanus being horny af, blood, unprotected sex, p in v, voyeurism, choking, oral (reader receiving), slight orgasm denial, fingering, possessive behaviour, overstimulation, breeding kink? body worshipping? porn no plot.

a/n: lowkey want to write a modern mafia!au series fic of coriolanus snow x reader.

You had just finished mashing the potatoes in the kitchen when the alarm went off on the cuckoo bird timer on your countertop. It was time to take out the whole chicken cooking in the oven. Grabbing your mitts, you took the perfectly roasted chicken to cool on the rack before you heard your name being yelled from the front foyer.

"Honey, I'm home!" Coriolanus called out. His henchmen stood not too far behind, straight-faced and unfazed by his theatrics.

Coriolanus Snow, the most wanted mafia boss in Panem, is a man of power, feared and respected by all. His name invokes terror, and his empire spans the city. Coriolanus was known for his ruthless tactics and cold-heartedness, a force to be reckoned with. But, hidden beneath his hardened exterior is a deviant soul inexplicably drawn to you. And he wasn't timid about it. Your heart still skipped a beat whenever Coriolanus had returned home safely, given his line of work.

When you walked to the front door, Coriolanus stood in his glory in an impeccably tailored suit. His platinum blonde hair was slicked back with no sign of his curls, giving you a clear view of his blue eyes and face. The white rose pinned to his blazer was stained with crimson red blood splatters that painted his white dress shirt into a deep rustic red, blood that partially dried—the only indication of what his day entailed as Coriolanus smiled brightly at the sight of you. Everything else about him remained clean-cut. He resembled what you would imagine an angel of death in a suit.

"Busy day?" you asked.

"Things got a bit messier than I had anticipated, but nothing that I can't handle," Coriolanus unbuttoned his dress shirt and removed his blazer before handing the items to the hired help. The maid offered him a hot sanitization cloth to wipe his hands, and he gladly accepted. Then he pulled you closer to him into a tight embrace, pushing his muscular frame against yours. Coriolanus's hard cock pressed into your abdomen, making it very apparent what he wanted from you. Goosebumps appeared over your skin, and it became difficult to breathe normally as his hands roamed over your body freely, as if it were his for the taking.

"Coryo, we have company." You whispered urgently, attempting to voice your objections, but his lips silenced you. Coriolanus trailed tender kisses along your jawline and down your neck.

"I can't help it," he murmured between kisses, his voice filled with longing and lust. "I missed you so much." You were barely able to keep yourself steady at this point, with your rapid heartbeat, and he knew. Grabbing your waist, he lifts you off of the ground, and your legs wrap around him instinctively. His hands feel huge, gripping your ass to support your weight.

Your body desperately wanted him to fuck you right then and there, but the embarrassing thought of his henchmen hearing your moans and pleas was enough for you to keep your composure. Although, you wouldn't mind if Coriolanus did it anyway.

Something ignites in Coriolanus's eyes when he looks down at your core pressed against his dick. He watches as his hands push you against his cock, creating friction between you. The movement elicits a lewd moan from your lips, "Coryo, please." Coriolanus's Adam's apple bobs in his throat at the sound. He placed you on top of the entryway table and pushed your legs further apart, exposing your wet panties.

"Coryo, they'll see…" You feigned concern, but the truth is that you like to be watched, and Coriolanus was aware of this. His men stood still at the doorway with their gaze ahead, but one slipped up and made eye contact.

Coriolanus grabs your chin and forces your attention back onto him, "let them," he grumbled, his judgement hazy from your effect on him. His actions were calculated, taking one of your legs over his shoulder as he pushed your underwear to the side. Coriolanus shoved two fingers into you, "Ugh, you're so wet, and I haven't even given you my dick yet." You were practically writhing on his hand like a crutch, hypnotized by his touch. Each time was better than the last. It's intense. His thumb massaged your clit at the same speed as his fingers. You were ready to collapse at the ecstasy he brought you from just using one hand. “Such a pretty pussy, all for me.” Coriolanus got off by pleasing you and seized any opportunity to show how genuinely devoted he was to winning you over and showing others you were only his.

"Hmmm, look at the mess you’re making," Coriolanus cooed.

You watched while he played with your arousal between your folds, gathering more of it for lubrication before pushing his fingers deeper inside your cunt. Guiding his lips back to yours, he bit down on your bottom lip, slightly drawing blood and tasting it with his tongue before enticing yours.

“Fuck you make me feel so good.” you exhaled and relinquished all control to him. “Baby, I’m so close,” moaning softly in his mouth.

“No, not yet. They don't deserve to see you." Coriolanus slowed down his speed. You whimpered from his denial of your release. "That's only for me, you're mine." He picked you up again, taking his fingers out of you, ready to take you to bed. But the darn cuckoo bird clucked from the kitchen once more.

"You cooked dinner already?" Coriolanus asked. You nodded shyly, acutely aware that you were not far from cumming in front of an audience. In your peripheral vision, you could see the henchmen adjust their pants in a failed attempt to hide their erection. “I can’t wait to taste what you made,” he said. Coriolanus looked over his shoulder at them and muttered under his breath, “Perverted fucks.” he continued to carry you towards the kitchen. Having his arms wrapped around you made you feel safe and protected.

Coriolanus placed you on top of the kitchen countertop, hooked his index finger around the band of your underwear and tugged them down.

“what are you doing?” you giggled.

“I told you I can’t wait to taste you,” he stated.

“No, you didn’t,” you replied.

“Didn’t I?” He questioned as he lowered his head between your legs. Coriolanus took his time teasing you, lazily dragging his tongue from your inner thigh and inching closer and closer to your exposed cunt until it met its mark. He lapped up your juices, sucking on your clit and flicking it over and over again with the tip of his tongue. Your eyes fluttered shut, overconsumed by bliss.

"Don't stop," you sighed. Coriolanus ate you out as if it was his last meal. Hungrily, licking and slurping your pussy.

"I wouldn't dare," he swears under his breath and groans. “Fuck, taste so good." Your hands tangled in Coriolanus's hair from tugging him closer while you roll your hips across his face. He'd done this countless times, yet this felt different. On his knees, Coriolanus moaned out your name like a prayer, worshipping your body. He moved with vigour and dedication to add to the tension that grew within you. "Ah, Coryo-" your breath was staggered, and your legs clenched and shaken around his head, trapping him there on the edge of the counter. It was too much as your orgasm rippled throughout your body all at once.

Coriolanus reappeared with your fluids still on his chin and lips. While taking you in a passionate kiss, he wasted no time in unbuckling his trousers. Your arousal still dripping from his tongue as he lined his cock up to your entrance. You bounced up and down on his cock, as Coriolanus grinded his waist up to eagerly meet your movements halfway. "That's it, baby girl, just like that." He’s so hard that it almost hurts. Coriolanus couldn’t get enough of it. His fingers dug into your thighs while he fucks you and watches your breast move with each thrust. Coriolanus was aggressive and needy, and you loved every moment of it.

"I— shit, I'm gonna cum," you could feel Coriolanus’s body tremble against yours. "Give it to me. Every last drop," you moaned. Demanding him to surrender you all his body can offer, you would take whatever he yields to you. Riding his cock until Coriolanus couldn’t keep his eyes open, “Baby s’too much,” he slurred. Wet slapping sounds echoed throughout the house, intermingled with your moans. Cumming together. Coriolanus's hand raised around your neck, applying enough pressure to slightly cut off your circulation as he continued to pound into your pussy relentlessly. "Tell me that this pussy is mine," he growled. "It's yours, Coryo." you cried out. You stuttered out his name as you lost control of your limbs, trembling in bliss, your walls clenched and pulsed around his member. You were at your wit's end, but your body wouldn’t stop, edging yourself closer and closer to orgasm. There was an insatiable urge that remained between the two of you. Even as he pumped his cum deeper and deeper inside of you, it was never enough.

[asexualsinner]

Ghoul Hair Headcanons

This wouldn't leave my brain until I put it out into the world

Dewdrop/Sodo

Pin straight corn blonde that goes to his mid back

Very thin

Dry and damaged from his fire transition (Cumulus bullies him into letting her put oils and serums in it to help. He won't admit that he likes it)

Will wash his hair everyday/every time he takes a shower. This is sometimes multiple times a day. (Cumulus and Rain cry in despair)

Cowlick at the front part. Annoys the shit out of him when it dries funny

Let's his hair air dry after a shower

His hair used to be normally oily pre fire transition from the ministry's lake but noticed that if he swims for long periods of time his hair will be greasy and gross

Leaves hair EVERYWHERE. In the shower, on the furniture, clothes, you.

Uses everyone else's shampoo and conditioner bc he's too lazy to get his own

Will wear it up in a spider clip when practicing

Doesn't like people touching it, will let the other ghouls braid/style it on occasions or if they give him their best puppy dog eyes long enough

Somehow manages to not have bed head. Wakes up and his hair is fine. The pack considers this the 8th wonder of the world

Gets annoyed when his hair gets caught in his mask/balaclava bc he was too lazy to either tie it up himself or let one of the others do it for him preshow

Rain

Wavy hair that curls up just under his ears, blackish almost dark blue in certain light

Hair defies logic, will curl/wave in patterns that don't make sense

Uses 837+ products in it to make it glossy and soft after swimming (screams internally after Dew leaves barely a squirt of shampoo left in the shower and doesn't replace it)

Sleeps with a silk pillowcase

Will pin his hair back with pearl barrettes that papa gifted him

BEDHEAD. The WORST BEDHEAD out of all the ghouls. Wakes up looking like he lost a fight with a moose

Will let anyone run their fingers through it/brush it/style it. He will make you wash your hands beforehand though

Dries it using a cotton T-shirt. Usually the one he was wearing pre-shower

Washes his hair every 3-5 days

Mountain

Brown 3b curly mullet/Mohawk

Shaves the sides bc he finds the hair tickling his ears and horns annoying

Usually has leaves or flowers caught in his hair

Bangs cover his eyes

Cowlick at the crown of his head

Oil? Seums? Who is she, bc Mountain has never heard of her

His horns make headbands impossible so he will use bobby pins to keep his bangs out of the way while in the greenhouse or practicing

Bobby pins are everywhere. In the greenhouse, the practice room, living room, kitchen, EVERYWHERE

Consequently knows how to lockpick doors with said Bobby pins. No he will not tell you how he knows how to do this

Wraps his hair in silk handkerchiefs to sleep

Will wash his hair once a week if he remembers

Shakes his hair out like a dog to dry unless one of the others corner him with the Dyson hair dryer. (He won't admit that he hates the sound it makes)

Will throw in leave in conditioner overnight

Let's Phantom and Aurora put in cute clips that he forgets about

Once showed up to practice with a head full of colorful butterfly clips bc he forgot about them. Copia didn't say anything, wanted to see how long it would take Mount to notice while head banging. He didn't notice the entire practice until one flew off and hit his drum set

Swiss

Dark brownish black locs, sometimes will braid in colors if he's feeling like it. Mostly dark colors like burgundy or purple. Has been convinced to do gold before tours by the others

JEWELRY!!! LOTS of metal rings, cuffs and jewels. Loves being the shiniest thing in the room

Has as many if not more hair care products than Rain. Takes care to make sure his hair doesn't get damaged and is healthy

Sleeps with a silk bonnet to protect his hair

Has done fun style like space buns with his locs but will usually leave it down or in a top knot

Will wash it every 7-10 days or so unless it gets super dirty

Will take care of the rest of the packs hair, is the pack mom about it

Dew/Sodo frustrates the HELL out of him. What do you mean you don't use conditioner??

Will chew on the cuffs like a fidget toy

Takes great pride in his hair, will spend forever in the bathroom if you let him

If his hair isn't cooperating with him, that's it for the day you will not see him

Has injured himself/others while practicing from all the metal in his hair while headbanging/throwing himself around (was forced to wear a cone of shame during the rest of that practice)

Phantom/Aeon

Very wavy almost curly black hair with white streak on the left side

Hair thins out and curls around his shoulders with whispy bangs

Wolf cut girlie ✨

Soft and fluffy, loves to have his scalp scratched and hair played with. Will absolutely fall asleep while it's being done

Has tinted his hair with purple bc he likes the aesthetic

The others have found him in the bathroom at 3am with scissors bc he saw a trend on TikTok and wanted to try it (he was banned from scissors for 3 months)

Swiss cried when he saw it in the morning (what did you do??)

Forgets to wash his hair but is still better than Mountain about it

Washes every 5-7 days

Originally would use a towel to dry until he found the Dyson and now is a menace

Will chew on his hair until it's brought to his attention

Headbands, headbands, HEADBANDS! LOVES THEM.

Has demon horns ones, cat ear ones, regular ones, even those zig zag ones that hurt he doesn't care he loves them

Will use whatever's in the bathroom but prefers softer smelling products

Hates hairspray with a passion

Doesn't sleep with any special pillow cases, etc

Double cowlick where his bags sit and at the crown

Gets really REALLY bad knots at the base of his skull. Will cry when Swiss or Cumulus has to brush them out

Aether

Strawberry blonde short hair and shaved on the sides

Slicked back fade, likes the greaser look from the 50s

Do not touch this man's hair

Not only is it slicked back with 50lbs of product he will also bite you

Has sideburns

Somehow still uses 3-in-1 despite being picky about how his hair looks

Will sing into the hair dryer while using it

Hair is dry, not damaged but definitely not hydrated/healthy enough

Doesn't wear any accessories except for a beanie in the winter

Looks like a peacock in the morning, hair is just everywhere. Sticks up in every direction when he wakes up

Washes it everyday due to the product he puts in it

Fell asleep on the tour bus once and there was a grease spot left from his hair gel

Uses hair pomade that smells like vanilla and sandalwood

Goes through a jar of pomade every two days. The ministry's budget is crying, shaking in their boots bc of this ghouls usage of hair gel

Is a walking fire hazard from the gel

Cumulus

4b curl pattern, rocks the afro with bangs

Natural color is a dark reddish brown but dyes it fun colors like sky blue

Loves to tie it up with a cute designed handkerchief or bun, etc

Will accessorize with butterfly clips or spiral hair wyrms/Jewels

Washes it once a week but uses hair oils/serums daily

Bullies Dew/Sodo into letting her care for his hair

Is the go to for hair advice after Swiss

Uses a silk bonnet and silk pillowcase to sleep

Will use a cotton T-shirt to dry it/scrunch it and then finishes with the dyson

Second biggest hair shedder after Dew/Sodo

Will style it like Rosie the Riveter for practice

Doesn't like it when people touch her hair unless they ask first

Even then the answer may be no

Likes floral scented shampoo/conditioner

Aurora

Straight flat hair with choppy bags

THICCCC hair, goes to the bottom of her shoulder blades

Platinum blonde but dyed underneath

Enjoys the shocked gasps she gets when she pulls her hair up to show the rainbow underneath

Doesn't hold a curl for the life of her, she's tried

Usually keeps her hair down, will do a low ponytail for practice

Twin braids on sides framing her face

Likes playing with the others hair since hers doesn't hold different styles well

No cowlicks but her hair knots horrendously. After show care includes at least two other ghouls trying to help her unknot her hair from her balaclava

Washes it once a week,prefers cinnamon scented soaps

Super greasy if she uses too much product

Is in love with the Dyson hair dryer, fights with Aether on who gets to use it as a mic

Cirrus

Thin, straight dark black hair to her mid back

Twinning with Dew/Sodo except she takes care of her hair ✨

Shorted whispy hair framing her face

Her hair looks blue in certain light, almost like an oil slick

Split ends? Couldn't be her

Favorite shampoo scent is mint

Will spend hours combing her hair

Prefers combs over brushes

Doesn't get bad bed head but her hair is super static-y.

Will wear twin braids when practicing or pin the braids to her head with clips

Hair always looks super elegant

Like Aurora her hair can't hold a curl

Doesn't use anything special to sleep with

Will wash every 3-5 days

Uses serums as needed but her hair is super hydrated

Very soft

Prefers not to be touched but will allow certain ghouls to braid it if asked

Is the one who bought the Dyson hair dryer, is super amused by everyone's feral reactions to it.

[viaoverthemoon]

I have a small request here too✋ I was thinking about Leon (damnation maybe) x fem!reader with reader being his daughter's kindergarten teacher, and the little one falls in love with her and wants to spend more time with reader, and Leon he finds himself forced to accept this, so he falls in love with the reader. It can be with smut at the end or just something romantic, it doesn't matter.

I hope I explained it ok, I've had this idea in my head for some time but I don't know how to express it 😂❤️❤️

Oooo this sounds so cute stawpppp.

Since I have another fic in the works that's drenched in smut, I'll keep this one fluffy. ;)

Damnation!Leon Kennedy x Fem!Reader

Summary: You're a kindergarten teacher for Leon Kennedy's daughter and she wants to keep you forever!

Tw: Fluff, Mention of deceased relative, Mention of past miscarriage

READ AT YOUR OWN RISK!!

Enjoy! <3

To Belong

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"Congratulations, Arabella! It looks like you're our student of the week!"

You gently place the pin on Arabella's shirt, smiling widely at her proud expression.

Being a kindergarten teacher definitely has its downs. But also has its ups as well. One of those ups being the honor of teaching these innocent children. Every day is something new, a new experience that makes you realize the importance of raising the next generation.

Arabella turns towards you, smiling so wide her cheeks must hurt. She grabs onto your leg. "Thank you, Miss (L/N)! This means so much to me!"

You smile down at her, proud of her for using the feelings lesson you'd taught her, and crouch to her level to give her a hug. "You're welcome, Arabella! I'm so proud of you. Thank you for being such a kind student!"

She seems to take your praise very seriously, being super kind to her classmates and staying by you side, asking if you need help or service in any kind of way.

❁

At the end of the day when everyone has left, you sit alone at your desk.

Whilst flipping from one graded paper to another, the door to your classroom creaks open.

You raise your head just in time to see Arabella run into the room, screaming with her arms in the air. "MISS (L/N)!!!!"

You laugh as she runs around your desk and hugs you, babbling nonsense excitedly. "Oh my goodness! Back so soon, Arabella?"

She gives a hyper nod. "Yes!"

"'Yes ma'am', Bella."

Your eyes snap up, locking with a pair of bright blues.

You look at him, surprised.

The man held a strong resemblance to Arabella, minus the straight blonde hair Arabella carried. They shared blue eyes and a soft face. If anything, his rough exterior yet light features suited him. Gave him a mysterious and alluring air that draws people to him, searching to learn more about him.

"Oh- yes ma'am- Daddy look, look! This is the nice teacher I was telling you about!"

You rise from your chair and hold out a hand with a smile. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Kennedy."

He shakes your hand and offers a nod. "Pleasure to meet you too, Miss (L/N). As you can see, I've heard quite a lot about you."

He gives his daughter a pointed look that makes you laugh. You gesture to the seat across from your desk, offering him a seat as you settle back into your chair. "I assume there's a reason you're here that I could help you with?"

Mr. Kennedy sits in the chair, seemingly tired as he falls into the seat and instinctively spreads his legs.

You try your hardest not to acknowledge the action, but your eyes fail you, flickering down his frame for half a second before returning to his face.

You instantly regret your mistake when he smirks at you, straightening up just a bit and resting his arms on his legs. "Actually, I was hoping to discuss what Arabella's behaviors are like while she's at school, as well as how she's learning." He pauses. "I mean, obviously if she's getting student of the month for the 2nd time, she's doing pretty good."

He smiles and playfully ruffles Arabella's hair, earning a laugh from the 5-year-old. "But still. It would be nice to hear from her teacher, not her."

You clear your throat and nod, turning away to escape the burn of his gaze and pulling out a folder labeled A.K., Arabella Kennedy's character chart.

"Of course, I understand. Let's start with how she handles assignments."

❁

After about 45 minutes of talking, Leon seems satisfied with his daughter's school life and begins to pack up his things to leave. But Arabella becomes upset, running to you and refusing to let go of your leg.

"No! I'm not ready to say bye to Miss (L/N) yet!"

She throws the standard child tantrum, small tears streaming down her reddened puffed out cheeks as you gently try to coax her into letting go.

"Arabella... Don't be upset. You'll see me again on Monday-"

But she's relentless, shaking her head and kicking away Mr. Kennedy's hands as he tries to reach for her.

Eventually, he sighs and looks at you embarrassingly. "I'm so sorry Miss (L/N). She's hardly ever like this."

Seeing as this is something you deal with all the time, you just shake your head, offering a small smile. "Don't worry about it. I'm used to this behavior... I'm about to leave for the day. If you guys want, we could go out for a quick dinner? This way, we won't have to part so soon."

This gets the crying 5-year-old to quiet down almost immediately. She looks up from your leg, tears and snot smeared all over your pant leg. "Really? Can we?"

You look up at Mr. Kennedy, raising a brow for conformation. And, seeing as there was no way around it, he gives in.

❁

And from that moment forward, you and the Kennedy family became quite close.

You shared a few dinners and spent time together at amusement parks and entertainment events, eventually becoming so close that you'd even watch Arabella when Leon had to leave for reasons of his job.

You listen to his stories, and he listens to yours.

He shares how he and Arabella have no one else to depend on. Her mother, although she and Leon didn't have a good relationship, had died during childbirth. And how he'd lost his own parents long ago, growing up an orphan and not having much.

And you share only having your parents. You could have had a little one yourself, but unfortunately grieved a harsh miscarriage and the father of the child leaving soon after didn't help.

You both end up having more in common than you'd originally thought.

And now, you share more than just experiences and memories. Now, you share shy looks and ghostly touches.

Somedays his hand will graze yours and you both will avoid each other's gaze, ignoring the sudden spark that comes when you make contact.

That is until, one night Leon returns from a particularly long job to find you curled up on his living room couch with a book in hand, reading glasses perched on the bridge of your nose.

"Hey, sorry for the long night. Never meant to be gone that long." He shrugs off his leather jacket and throws it over the arm of his second couch.

You eye his fatigued figure for a moment before removing your glasses and putting down your book. "No, it's alright. You know I don't mind, Leon."

Sitting up, you pat the spot next to you on the couch, offering him a seat. "Arabella's upstairs asleep in her room..." He gives a soft grunt and falls on the couch, rubbing the back of his neck while nodding and muttering a 'Good. Thank you.'

Eyes skillfully assessing his behavior, you decide to ask him the question that's been on your mind. "Are you okay? Do you need anything?"

He glances at you through his peripheral but instantly looks away. "Yes. I'm fine. You can go now."

In all honesty, the way he suggested you leaving hurt your feelings. But you didn't relent. "If it's alright with you, I'd like to stay..."

Reaching a hand out, you place it on top of his on his lap. He flinches slightly, but doesn't push you away. He pauses for a second...

And then he relaxes, flipping his hand over to wrap it around yours.

Your heart is in your throat and the palms of your hands begin to sweat. But you don't show it, smiling shyly at Leon and holding his hand.

He doesn't look at you. Doesn't show any signs that he acknowledges you besides the fact that he isn't letting go of your hand. "Why do you stay? Why do you want to stay?"

The monotone question catches you off guard. You momentarily freeze as his eyes find you.

Blue frozen glaciers filled with oceans and rivers of pure sadness and regret. The emotion in his eyes makes you briefly wonder where he finds the space for the happiness he feels with Arabella.

Or if he'll have the space for happiness with you.

You take a moment to think, looking down at your linked hands and gliding a thumb over the warmth of his skin. "I feel happiest when I'm here with the two of you. As you know, I don't have much. All I've had to look forward to has been my students... but now... I have the both of you."

You look him in the eyes, trying to convey your emotions through the look in yours. "These past few weeks have been the best I've lived through in years... I'm tired of living alone, Leon. Life is worth so much more when you spend it with somebody else."

He looks at you in shock, not sure what to say about your sudden confession. His mouth opens and closes like a fish, trying to choose the right words to say.

You look away bashfully. "Er- What I'm trying to say is... I'd like it if we could spend... more time together. And see each other more often. But-! It's completely up to you, of course."

For a moment, the silence is nerve wracking. You try not to fidget too much or show that you're anxious in awaiting his answer.

You're beginning to lose hope when Leon's hands are suddenly on your hips.

You're so surprised by his actions that you hardly notice him gently coaxing you into sitting on his lap.

Your legs straddle his thighs, backside rested on his knees when you suddenly notice your position. Your face burns hot, and you rest your hands on his shoulders.

His hands find purchase on your waist. "If I'm being honest, I expected you to leave us a long time ago... I didn't mean to be rude. I just didn't think you'd stay."

He caresses your sides, warm hands heating through the fabric of your clothes. "And... I would like it- a lot if you stayed with us. Not only would you make me happy, but you'd make Arabella happy too. And that matters more than anything."

You pretend to ponder on your decision, looking away with a small smile on your face before turning back to Leon. "Well... I guess I can stick around-"

The sentence barely leaves your lips before Leon pulls you in, kissing you with so much relieved passion that you momentarily feel dizzy.

And for once, you feel like you truly belong somewhere.

Yes. This feeling is definitely one you can get used to.

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Nobody: My inbox screaming and crying for help: 😓😭😭☠️ Me with 0 internet or data: 🧍🏾‍♀️💃📖

Hope you enjoyed!

More requests coming soon!

Requests are open!! <3

[answer2jeff]

Life Imitates Art —Carmen Berzatto.

PART 1/2.

warnings: fluff. painter!reader x roommate!carmen. unestablished relationships. clunky overly detailed writing. carmy being concerned. angsty. mutual pinning. (reader is lowkey mentally unstable like Carmen. i can't write 100% healthy relationships i'm sorry!!!)

a/n: sorry i disappeared and didn't write for weeks and decided to randomly drop this!

You needed inspiration.

With your last three pieces bought out from the French art gallery, L'art de L'amour, you hadn't touched your easel in days. Your brushes had gone dry, the paint clumping and staining every bristle. The lack of desire to make art felt like you hadn't seen the sun in 10 years.

You'd been ignoring this dreadful feeling with sleep.

Long day at the studio, the space filled with no one but younger, starving artists who wanted to admire your work for creative flow—but never wanting to know the real meaning behind every brush stroke, or why you used oil paints for specific pieces? Sleep.

The days fell shorter, the nights falling longer.

Even your roommate, a micromanager of his career, noticed.

It surprised you, possibly more than it should've. When you first moved into this apartment, you had every doubt in the world sharing a space would be enjoyable. For a while, you weren't sure if you could call yourselves "friends." Then again, living with a complete stranger—a man, no less, seemed impractical. But after a month or two, it was refreshing in a way. Carmen always cleaned up after himself, and was never opposed to splitting chores. There was no need to set specific boundaries. You felt respected, cared for. Every minute not overpowered by either of your desires to create were mostly spent with each other. It kept you sane.

You woke up to the sound of Carmen walking into the kitchen, cursing under his breath when he struggled to shut the door of your apartment behind him. Reluctantly, you dragged yourself out of bed, only to find that your bedroom door was wide open. You must've gone straight to bed after spending the entire evening trying and expectedly failing at "cleaning" up the apartment so Carmen wouldn't come home to a mess.

Bare feet pattered against the floorboards, the palm of your hand pressing into your tired eyes. You stretched your arms out, your t-shirt, who you weren't sure if it was yours or Carmen's, lifting up and showing just a sliver of your stomach over your grey sweatpants. The sunlight leaking through the windows blinded you.

"Oh, hey. You're up." A warm, welcoming voice greeted you, followed by the fridge being closed shut after restocking it with the necessities he picked up from Whole Foods.

You blinked to see Carmen hovered over the kitchen counter, clad in a navy-blue crewneck and gold chain dangling from his pale neck. His hands pried at a familiar brown wrapper. Blueberry muffins.

"Hey, yourself," you slurred, barely able to keep your eyes open as you hoisted yourself up onto the marble surface. You gazed down at him, grinning at his messy blonde curls.

Carmen smiled back, blue eyes admiring the sight of you: half asleep, your voice raspy while still having that airy cadence, your hair messier than it was the last time he willingly saw you—which he couldn't totally remember. He came home to the sight of your bedroom dimly lit by your bedside lamp.

"It's noon," he muttered, glancing from his phone on the counter, and back to you.

"Shit. Really?"

"Yeah. You've been sleeping a lot lately," he kept his stare on you as he opened the cabinet beside you, reminding you to 'watch your head' as he grabbed a ceramic plate.

"Isn't that a good thing?"

Your mind wandered to your exhibit. The thought of never having the ability to create such extraordinary work terrified you. So much that you hadn't even tried. It was almost embarrassing: Carmen seeing you like this. Rid of the one thing you convinced yourself you knew how to do.

"Not really."

You wanted to laugh. Maybe he just didn't get it.

If you could make even the painfully mundane into something more, than maybe you were more than just existing. Carmen was actually astounded by you and your work, even with the lack of knowledge in other art forms. Culinary was his calling, but for you? Oh, how he tried to grasp every concept you conveyed in your creative works. All in attempt to comprehend every thought in that pretty little head of yours.

Maybe he didn't understand as much as he wished, but maybe he didn't have to totally 'get it' to get you. Carmen found it hard to read people, their feelings, their true intentions, his whole life. But for once, he had confidence in his intoxicating marvel for everything you did. Even the way you covered your mouth when you laughed around everyone except him, or the way you styled your hair

"Well, it was for the sake of art," you smiled, extending your hand out to accept the plate that held the beautifully baked blueberry muffin. "Thanks for these, by the way."

"Pleasure. And I was actually gonna ask you about that. The—the art. Your art." Carmen joined you on the counter, his feet dangling beside yours. Your shoulders bumped past each other, a laugh coming from the both of you.

"Yeah? What about it?" You bit into your muffin, your gaze never leaving his.

"Well, I uh—I kinda wanted to visit your exhibit, y'know? Get to see it in its full form. I would've asked sooner but—"

"Yeah, yeah, it's okay. I know. Um—that'd be great. That's really nice of you, Carm."

A part of you wondered why he wanted to see it. But it wasn't all too surprising. Carmen took every chance he got to see your studio—even taking the initiative to drive you home from it on late nights, where you'd be endlessly analyzing your works even hours after Carmen would leave what was now, The Bear.

"Nah, I mean, I've just seen all that y'do and it's—" Carmen shrugged, struggling to find the right words to express his admiration without changing the atmosphere, "really cool. It's you, y'know?" His bottom lip was barred by his teeth and he looked into you for an answer.

You wished you could understand how the complexities of a kitchen; how it could clutch Carmen's attention to the point of no return, but you were happy for him. He was making something more of "mom and dads piece of shit," as he called it.

You never thought it was anything short of fucking awesome. He had all of this experience, drive, passion. Carmen felt more real, more rawly human to you than anything. Or anyone you'd met before.

He changed you. You were softer, calmer.

And still, you worried for him, dragging him out of the ever all consuming anxiety. Sometimes this was through watching X-file reruns on the couch. And every night, you'd move a little closer. By now, he'd keep an arm around you as your eyes became heavy and the room stirred with darkness and comfortable silence. He prayed to whatever ruled above him that you wouldn't notice, simultaneously wishing you'd want him to hold you gently like this. Even grocery store trips, something so simple, felt this way—which you missed out on this morning. You'd stand on the edge of the cart, your hands supporting your weight as Carmen pushed the handle with both hands, eyes scanning the isle for whatever obscure ingredient he needed for the dinner he planned on making you that night.

Every time he looked away, you stared. His beautifully carved nose, the way he bit the inside of his cheek and furrowed his blonde eyebrows when he tried to focus on making a decision. You were afraid, in a weird, animalistic way. You hadn't stopped yourself from relying on him. What if loving him this way made him pull away–or worse, you? You had to admit, having something this painfully simple in your life that made up for the chaos, was a little hard to accept.

It took everything in you to pretend you didn't notice him cleaning up the bathroom you shared whenever either of you left your belongings lying around. You wanted to convince yourself it was because he didn't want to come off as a slob, or influence you to be one yourself. But it always felt more like he was looking after you. Nothing that belonged to you would ever be misplaced again. Not with Carmen around.

You took pride in the little things. Your shoes placed next to each other near the front door, your toothbrushes leaning against each other with corresponding colored clips to cover their bristles. This was good. Change was good.

[misseviehyde]

BITCH-SEED: (The leaving gift)

Jenny loved her younger brother Toby so much. He was funny, kind and musically talented. He was a drummer in a Nirvana inspired school band and didn't lack for moral courage. He was a cool kid who looked out for others - she was really proud of him.

That was why she begged him to stop trying to intervene with her bullying by mean-girl Aimee and her bunch of cronies.

Aimee was a blonde, spoiled rich girl who had taken a dislike to Jenny. She was cruel, self-absorbed and malicious and seemed to spend a considerable part of her energy looking for ways to ruin Jenny's life.

The popular mean girl had a vindictive and cruel streak and Jenny didn't want her brother being targeted and victimised next. Besides, they were moving schools next week so what was the point? Her Dad was getting a job in a new town and the family were all moving. Jenny was looking forward to the fresh start.

She was by the lockers clearing out some of her things ready for the move one day, when she heard a familiar voice.

"Hey loooooser."

Jenny's bowels clenched in fear as she heard the teasing, superior voice of her bully behind her and she turned to see Aimee and her clique of girls standing before her.

Aimee was impossibly pretty. Her blonde hair was platinum and straight and perfect in every way. Her flawless features were smooth and beautiful, her clothing expensive and painfully tasteful. She wore white knee length boots, so shiny you could see your face in them, a pleated black mini-skirt and a cute pink sweater of some highly expensive material. A pretty pink bow was pinned into her hair.

Cold blue eyes regarded Jennny maliciously, Amiee's pink lip-glossed lips twitching into a malevolent smile as she examined her acrylic nails - long and white - and advanced on her victim.

"Ohhh are you clearing out your locker already loser? So sorry to hear you're leaving us. I guess that means you think you're getting away from me?"

Jenny backed nervously away from the other girl and shrieked as she crashed into the open door of the locker behind her. The impact bruised her back and sent a stab of pain through her body.

Amiee and her girls howled with laughter enjoying seeing Jenny make a clutz of herself as usual.

"I'll have to find some other pathetic fuck to do my homework and top up my coffee money," laughed Amiee. "You're so fucking pathetic Jenny. It doesn't matter where you go, you'll never amount to anything."

"Hey - leave her alone," snarled a voice and Jenny felt a stab of fear as Toby suddenly appeared at her side. "You bunch of bitches better leave my sister alone. I'm sick of watching you float around here as if the world owes you a living. None of you have got any real backbone. You're just parasites who live off your Daddy's money. Get out of here."

The girls all looked at one another in genuine puzzlement and Amiee smirked - tossing her hair coldly and folding her arms dangerously beneath her breasts.

"Oh yeah nerd? You think you can protect your dumb sister from us? I don't think so and thanks for helping me make my mind up about something I've been planning for a while. Girls I think it's time we gave our leaving gifts to these losers."

Holding out their palms facing up, the popular girls all began to giggle and smirk as with a buzzing, crackling sound, tiny motes of energy materialised above their open hands. They formed into small spheres of pastel coloured energy that floated in the air. The siblings gawked in astonishment.

Amiee's was the largest. A ball of bratty pink light that shone with a powerful radiance and seemed to whisper toxic ideas into the mind.

"Each of these is a bitch-seed. It's how we make more members of our clique. The seeds contain our memories of makeup, boys and fashion and also our stronger personalities and feminine desires that will corrupt and transform anyone they enter. One of you is going to become JUST like us and I think we both know who..."

Laughing Amiee turned and blew on her seed. It shot from her hand and hit Toby... crackling as it entered his body and he groaned in shock.

He gasped as the delicious pink energy throbbed and thrummed through him and around him... strange new thoughts and desires filling his mind as his bones and body ached.

Doesn't it feel good to be girly?

It did feel... good. Really good.

Toby's short brown hair lengthened and his features became softer. Pretty lashes blinked in astonishment and he tugged uncomfortably at his clothing as his hips cracked out and his chest tingled as budding breasts began to form. He was becoming a girl!

"You see Jenny," laughed Amiee. "When you start your new school - it's the perfect time to send someone to start a new clique there. I've done my research and your new school is pathetically short of bullies. I've decided your brother will be perfect to start things there. He has real leadership potential and once I've turned him into my mini-me then you'll never be free. The transformation changes reality for any who don't witness it, and soon you'll be the only one who remembers your brother. Now let's fill him up with more, girls!"

More bitch-seeds floated from the girls hands and into Toby. Pink and purple sparks crackled as they merged into him and Toby moaned as each one was absorbed into his body accelerating the physical changes.

Toby groaned as his nice personality was attacked and overwhelmed. He felt so sexy and bitchy and it felt so good to give into all the whispering girly voices telling him to accept the power.

Yesssssss let your like loser personality become ours. Be a mean girl, you know you want to.

Toby giggled and threw back his head - eagerly spreading his arms wide and accepting the energy into his body. He needed this! It felt AMAZING!

Amiee watched in wicked delight summoning another ball of energy and sending it into him.

"Yessss that's it bitch... take all our power and let it transform you. Let your new thoughts take control. Become a fucking bitch just like us."

The girls surrounded Toby and holding our their hands shot more energy into his body. Each blast caused Toby to moan in pleasure and to writhe in ecstasy - clearly enjoying the wicked energy pulsing into his body.

"Yessssss... give it to me... mmmmhhh fill me up. Mmmmh this feels so good yes I wanna be a bitch just like you girls!"

Toby moaned as wicked nails shot from his fingers and his hair lengthened and turned lighter then finally platinum blonde. His body became more feminine with tanned soft skin and beautiful features. Hips cracked out as his chest began to bulge pushing his t shirt out in interesting places.

Jenny sobbed in horror as she watched the transformation. She was powerless to stop the corruption. Toby wasn't even resisting!

The girls were all moaning in unison now, the bullies groaning like sluts as they pushed their most evil, depraved, slutty memories and thoughts into the bitch-seeds.

Toby's mind was being corrupted and overwritten by dozens of memories - Amiee's strongest of all. His own useless boy memories were being overwritten.

Memories of sucking dick, spending money, acting like a spoiled bitch filled the transforming sluts mind. It overrode now useless knowledge. Who needed to play the drums when you could be a cheerleader instead? Who needed to know the names of his male friends when he could be friends with the most popular girls in school.

Hours worth of makeup tutorials, knowledge of how to bully people and manipulate others seared through Toby's malleable mind. The bitch seeds were finding fertile ground.

"Yessssss, I love it," drooled the blonde girl happily as her pretty eyes rolled back in her head. "Give me moooooore!"

"Wow girls - she's really receptive. Pump her mind full of our nastiest memories. Turn her into the meanest, most spoiled slut ever. Burn that boy out of her. Make her into our new friend... Naomi."

Naomi moaned happily as she heard her new name. Yes... that was who she was now. Her pink lips curved into a wicked smile as she felt her breasts swell up nice and big and her useless dick retreat into being her new clit. This was MUCH better.

"Fuck yes girls - make me fucking EVIL!" laughed Naomu as she felt all positive memories and love for her pathetic sister burned out of her mind. This was glorious.

Sobbing in the corner Jenny watched her bullying sister being corrupted into the worst kind of bitch.

By now the energies had even affected Toby's former clothing. His Nirvana t-shirt was now no more, replaced instead by a tight pink dress that fit the new bitch perfectly.

Naomi's nails were long and sharp, her shaven pussy covered by a tiny black thong whose string rode up between her perfect ass cheeks. Full firm breasts, bigger then Jenny's stood proudly on her chest and her bitchy blonde hair fell like a perfect wave around her shoulders.

She and Aimee looked like sisters now.

Aimer and Naomi hugged as if they had known each other all their life and Jenny squirmed in fear at the matching smiles on their perfect faces...

*********

Linda had thought she should go say hi to the new girl on the beach. Jenny seemed nice - although the look of terror on her face as Linda approached was weird.

The chubby nerd wasn't sure why Jenny was so terrified and she didn't even see Naomi from behind till it was too late.

Linda moaned as the bitch-seed conjured by Naomi flowed into her body and she began to change. "That's it nerd," hissed Naomi, "let the bitch in you grow. Become the bitch you were born to be."

In moments Linda had been replaced and had become Leanne instead. Now a spoiled beach bitch she moved to flank her new Alpha with a wicked smile on her face.

"Thanks sis," giggled Naomi. "Another new girl for my clique. I do enjoy turning the ones that would have been your friends into MY friends."

Jenny cried as she looked into her once kind brothers sneering face. Naomi was even worse that Aimee had been. She constantly mocked and teased her sister and made her feel inferior. Worse - her parents were totally enthralled by their popular, successful, beautiful daughter and now despised Jenny.

School was a nightmare - Naomi had created a new clique of bullies and turned the school into her personal playground. She was now head cheerleader and dating the quarterback. Having to listen to Naomi scream in ecstasy as Chad fucked her brains out in hwr bigger bedroom next door was yet another indignity Jenny had to endure.

"Oh by the way loser," grinned Naomi. "Aimee and the girls are visiting this weekend. They're staying over the whole time and I bet you can't wait to catch up with her."

Laughing Naomi strutted away to the admiring stares of everyone whilst her sister cried like a pathetic little bitch.

Guess Penny wasn't enjoying her leaving gift after all...

THE END

[hermit-lover]

oooh okay! that's brilliant 'cause i had a request idea locked away n I love your writing n thought you would be perfect for it

if you are willing, my request is winged!grian preening winged!reader's wings n teaching them how to fly because they've never used their wings n always kept them hidden due to past experiences

you can change up the idea however you like of course

Teach me to fly

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

Character: Grian x Winged!Reader

Type: Blurb (~1.8k)

Theme: Romantic, Hurt/comfort, healing

TW: Mentions of traumatic events, panic, exhaustion, insecurity, touch starved reader

A/N: Writing avian stuff is so much fun, and fluff with a side of angst? You are going straight for my heart. Couldn't fit flying in, but have cute preening content.

The sweater hangs uncomfortably, clinging to your limbs. Its cozy sure, but you wish it was gone. To feel the air on your skin. The bind across your chest tight, pinning the offending mounds of flesh down.

Your wings.

Rolling your shoulders, you continue to browse. What were you looking for? Right- fireworks. It was hard to focus nowadays, the soreness in your body and memories haunting. Pushing open the chest- you cringe as your ribs pull. A stack for one, and you start counting. Placing five in, you retrieve your goods, sending them into your inventory. A swoosh of air blows your hair out of place, fluttering the signs attached to the cart.

"Hey!" A voice chirps, over shooting before another swoosh lets them backtrack. A smile tugs on your lips, and you squint into the sky to try and spot the familiar blob. The flash of red approaches, landing on top of the cart. Red wings and blonde hair. Grian.

"Hi." You nod, "what's up?" You were always envious of the fact he felt safe enough to show his wings, and how perfectly the feathers fell. Brilliant mix of shining reds, stunning blues, and glowing green. Your own wings were tattered in comparison, black feathers rumpled from their misuse.

"Not much." He replies, tilts his head slightly, scanning your features. You try your best to look awake and upbeat, fighting against the fatigue. His eyes narrow and you can sense he's seen through your disguise. "How are you?" Grian places extra emphasis on you. You try not to flinch.

"Oh you know- I'm okay." You shrug, instantly regretting the motion. He hums. A small rush of air, and he lands down next to you. Clawed bird feet landing near silently.

"Just okay?" He asks, voice dropping. Pity. It was always pity.

"Yeah- I guess." Heat flushes your cheeks. He must think your stupid.

"Look at me." He requests suddenly, and you realize that you looked away. You obey. His eyes are soft, brows pulled together, and a small frown. It was the same face he made when he was worried. Wait...he was worried for you? No no no that's not right. A warm touch on your cheek makes you jolt back. "Sorry-" He apologizes, freezing. A hand was reaching for your cheek, sharp nails careful to not prick. He-he wanted to touch you. You had thought so much about him touching you. It was hard, you couldn't get to comfortable with physical contact- You slowly lean back. What was he planning? His palm is warm, soft and gentle. You try not to lean into the touch. "Im going to be honest." He starts, firm but calm.

"Okay." You whisper, aware of how hoarse your voice is. When did your throat close like this? Why were you so close to crying?

"I don't think you're okay." A brief flutter of panic clutches your heart. But...the look in Grian's eyes makes it quickly flee. Hot tears prickle in your eyes. He could read you so well. Somehow he picked up on your every little emotion time and time again. Despite you trying to hide. Lock them up so tight. He says nothing as you sob, ribs clenching and throbbing with the motion. You slowly recognize something within. The longing for touch. It was unusual for you, trying to hide your wings meant you had to refrain from any hugs, or fun handshakes, or casual leans, or cuddle piles, or sleepovers-

You lean into him, sagging into his arms and resting your head on his shoulder. He tenses briefly, then his hands move to cup your head, and rest on your back. You would protest- but you were too tired. It was a pointless battle. They would find out eventually and hate you. Its fine. May as well enjoy one hug. Tear flow freely as you cry, hands balling into the soft material of his sweater. It was everything you ever imagined. "I've got you." He whispers, hand resting on your back smoothing down- from the back of your neck, shoulders, and then freezing at the bottom of your shoulders. Where the base of your wings pressed awkwardly into your skin. He hates you. You didn't need to see his face to know that. Any second Grian would jerk away from you just like he did-

"You have wings."

...

It was...breathless, as if the realization punched the air from his lungs. Yet...it wasn't scornful. "You have wings!" He exclaims, leaning back to look at you, but still holding your waist close. What was he thinking? didn't he find you disgusting?

Delight lit up his features. Sparkling his eyes like when he's had a particularly good idea. Delight...he didn't hate you? "You didn't tell me!" He briefly frowns, but seems to excited to let it last. "Can I see them? Why do you have them all wrapped up? That has to hurt, is this the reason your upset?-" He starts fretting, moving away from you to try peek at the newfound limbs. You were stunned.

So he didn't hate you. Instead..he seems rather excited? There was no disgust or pity in the way he fluttered about, hands moving yet not touching out of respect. You say nothing, unable to formulate words to fully describe the situation. "We should go to my base!" He declares, "There you can show me them- its more private." He reaches for your hand like he would with any other hermit, then pauses. Remembering his manners. "That is...if you want?"

What did you want?

You wanted him to hug you again- that was given. You did want to get rid of the bandages, but the prospect of showing your wings was terrifying. But there was no hesitation from Grian, just acceptance and excitement. Maybe...maybe you could? He was an avian as well- even moreso then you. So maybe he would be okay? Plus- if you wanted anyone to know. You wanted Grian to know.

"I want to." The words sounded foreign on your tongue, as if you yourself were not speaking them. With it came a spark of excitement. Grian's grin couldn't be bigger, and he grabbed your hand. The contact made your head spin. The vague realization that he's touched you so much- and now that the cat is out of the bag- he'll touch you more.

He pulls you along, letting you walk in silence as your head spins with possibilities. What would he say about the colour of your wings? Black had always been frowned upon, its why others hated you so much. It was seen as an omen, bad luck, death. It was why you had stopped flying- although also because it brought an unfair advantage. You were just lucky they didn't cut off your wings.

"We're here." Grians voice makes you jump, "Sorry." he apologizes immediately. You shake your head in dismissal, gesturing for him to enter. Without missing a beat, he opens the door, nudges you in, and follows, closing the door. It was warm inside, you knew Grian had a weird thing with liking the warmth. Not that you minded, the calm, comforting atmosphere wrapped easily over your heavy mind. Easing some tension from your shoulders. Grian guides you to his bedroom, a place you've been only a couple times. Dropping in through the window to scare him, wandering in during a conversation. But now, it was...different. His soft grip leads up to sit on his bed. You sink into the many layers of blankets. The topmost one is fluffy and soft, you want to curl up on it and nap. Alas, you would get no such luck, as Grian stands in front of you expectantly. His clawed feet click against the wooden flooring as he turns to face you completely. You must have a look of your face, because Grian's eyes soften.

"You don't have to show me if you don't want-"

"I said I did." You snap back a little to quickly, cringing at your tone. "Sorry-" you take a deep breath, "I'm just nervous."

"Thats okay." He reaches forward slowly, giving you opportunity to pull away. When you don't, his careful palm rests on your cheek. Pulling heat to your face. "Turn around." He requests, and you obey. Tucking your legs up onto the bed, and shuffling around. Missing his hand when it leaves your cheek. "May I remove your sweater?" He asks, excitement clear in his tone, as he tries to stay calm for you. You nod, and shudder slightly as his fingers brush against your skin.

The garment is pulled up, and you help him by removing your arms. It's tugged over your head- and dropped into a heap on the floor. He sucks air through his teeth. A flash of guilt makes you cringe. He was disappointed. "...Why do you bind them?" He asks, sadness coating the tone. You can feel his claws brush against sensitive limbs and the wrapping pinning them down. Why do you bind them? Shame. Shame at their colour- what they stood for. The unfair advantage, and how he- the tightening in your chest reminded you bitterly of your last server. How poorly they handled your wings. You were disgusting.

"I hate them." You whisper, venom dripping from the words. "They make me disgusting."

"No." Grian says sharply. No? No?? "They make you beautiful- special." slowly, the pressure on your chest lessens, and you realize he's loosing the bandages. "They are something to be treasured, taken care of." you can feel your feathers settle as the binds leave. "You are so strong, and you deserve to be proud of them- you deserve to be proud of you."

"Grian." You shake your head, disbelief coursing through you veins. He was flattering you- he didn't really believe it-

"Spread your wings for me." He breathes, warm hand placed between where you wings meet on your back. Maybe it was an instinctual part of you to want to show off- maybe it was the way he said it- maybe it was the influence he had on you-

The limbs were painful and sore, shaking as you extended them. Yet, satisfaction burned. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see the shiny black feathers. The silence hits you suddenly, and insecurity grows-

"You're gorgeous." Grian mutters, and heat flushes your cheeks. You want to tell him no- protest- but the sheer affection in his voice pushes the air from your lungs and coats your mind. You wanted to be doted upon- and here he was. Goosebumps prickle up your spine and across your arms as his fingers begin to deftly move. Sifting through the tattered feathers. You feel him remove one- a small sting of pain. When your wing's flutter he jerks back. "Sorry- I didn't ask-"

"What were you doing?" You interrupt, curious more then wanting him to stop touching you.

"I was preening you- its an avian thing where I remove all the broken feathers and clean the dirt out." He explains, no judgement in his tone. You hum, extending your wings to his mercy one again. He gets the idea- and the gentle movement returns.

It was mesmerizing. His gentle breathing, the darkness of the room, the soft sifting of feathers. His claws deft and smooth, removing some soreness and ache caused by your neglect. Shivers races up your spine, and relaxation grips your every limb. You find your head drooping- eyelids heavy. So much touch- it was wonderful.

"Sleepy?" Grian asks lightly, chuckling. You cant formulate a response, humming instead. He stops preening and you whine- he shushes you. "Lay down- lets nap." You can argue with that. Flopping forward you burry your face into that plush blanket. Grian's weight shifts the bed next to you, his wing brushes your own. Then, his arms pull you closer, nestling you against his side while his wings tangle in your own.

You've never cuddled anyone before- let alone slept next to them- and the warmth was almost too much. Exhaustion pulled down, and pleasant fuzziness encapsulates your being.

Grian didn't hate you. He loved your wings.

It would take a long time to get used to Grian knowing about your wings- and the physical contact that came with it.

But you were so excited.

[obxone]

A Best Friend's Confession

Edited-ish. ~1.4k words.

No warnings. Just some good ole fashion fluffiness.

[hi ! Could you do a bestfriend!jj who’s always touchy towards reader 😭 & one night he confesses and it’s just straight fluff !!💘]

Everyone sits around the Chateau, doing absolutely nothing as the night progresses. Well, nothing is a strong word. Everyone is smoking and drinking, with Kie, Pope, and JJ playing cards on the floor. You smile from your lounged position across the couch as Kiara cries out a victory call when she slams her King down onto the pile.

John B is as relaxed as he has been all week. His eyes closed as he rocks in the recliner. You laugh a little at his blissed-out state, knowing he is the highest one in the room. You lift the little nerf gun you had found under the couch cushion and aim it at Pope, who is ranting about the semantics of the game, and pull the trigger. The foam bullet is not heavy enough to follow through on the trajectory you had intended as it nails JJ in the temple. His head whips to the side, a look of betrayal flashing through those beautiful blue eyes.

“Did you seriously just shoot me in the head with a nerf bullet?” He asks, his eyes wild. “Your best friend?!”

You and Kiara are both lost in a fit of laughter until he scrambles to his feet. You quickly reach for another bullet, but he is faster as he dives into you headfirst. You squeal when his head presses against your sternum, and his hand seizes the nerf gun before he throws it off to the side. His other hand has yours pinned against the arm of the couch.

“What are you doing?” You ask around your laughter. The other two continue with their game, and John B does not even crack his eyes to see what is going on.

“You’re in trouble now,” he breathes, body pressing against yours.

“I’m so scared,” you tease back despite the blush creeping up your neck to your face.

“On that note,” John B mutters, getting to his feet. He squeezes Pope’s shoulder on his way outside. The promise of a fire and s’mores coming to fruition now that the sun has set.

JJ’s hand finds your free one and pins it against the arm of the couch as well. The warm press of his body against yours has you giggling. Pope and Kie gathering the card game fade out as he stares at you.

“I regret nothing, Maybank.”

“Oh, you will.” He winks before glancing over his shoulders as the other two file out of the house. His hands release your wrists and immediately dive into your midriff to tickle you. You gasp and try to swipe his hands away. Your legs press against his hips and thighs as you try to get yourself out from under him.

“No!” You cry out, wiggling down to try and escape him when your first tactic fails. He laughs, relishing his victory as you squirm and cry out for help. No one comes. “Okay!” You cave to him, the urge to combust setting in. “I give! I’m sorry!”

JJ sits back on his knees, satisfied at your failed attempt to withhold an apology.

You feel the blush resume creeping up to your cheeks when he does not look away or make an attempt to let you go. “We should go make s’mores before John B eats them all.”

He shakes his head, his hands still on your waist. “No.”

You pause your attempt to get out from under him. Eyebrow raising at his blunt refusal. “Why not?”

“I like this,” he muses, moving to press himself down against you again. His body effectively cages you against the couch. You mock a groan at the weight of his body, and he rolls his eyes.

“If you wanted cuddles, you should’ve just asked Jay,” you tease, hand ruffling his already messy blond hair.

“I always want cuddles.”

You laugh at his statement, knowing it is the most real thing he has said all day while he nestles his head into the curve of your neck. His breath fanning across your skin makes you shudder, but you hide it with a teasing comment. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you are obsessed with my boobs.”

“Of course, I’m obsessed with your boobs.”

You laugh, and he joins, his arms encircling your waist to keep himself close to you.

“I’m also obsessed with your boobs,” you confess, and he laughs louder. “Alright, move, Maybank. I want a s’more. We can cuddle later.”

“Promise?” he lifts his head to look at you.

“Promise,” you agree, and he grins before smacking his lips against your forehead. He rolls off you before you can process his lips on your skin. He holds out his hand, and you grasp it, letting him haul you to your feet. You lead the way outside, and he stays close, his hand wrapped around yours.

---

Kie and Pope left to go home after all the s’mores were gone, and you have the temptation to do the same, but JJ had found his way to nestle against you again. The hammock is likely where you would spend the night if he had his way.

“JJ,” you muse, nails scratching against the base of his neck. “I should go home soon.”

“You promised cuddles,” he pouts.

“Well, then, can we go inside?” You ask. “The mosquitos are intense right now.”

JJ frowns, sitting up and looking to see your arms and legs welting from a few bites. “Fuck, you should have said something earlier!”

“It only started after John B put out the fire,” you mutter as he climbs out of the hammock and reaches for you. John B is already inside and in his bed, oblivious to JJ keeping you hostage. You both walk side by side to the Chateau, and he leads the way in, his hand grasping yours and pulling you into the guest room. “You really are desperate for cuddles,” you tease. You never slept in the guest bed with him. When you stayed the others typically stayed, so you shared the pull-out sofa bed with Kie.

“Only a little.”

The shrug of his shoulders and his eyes elsewhere tell that he is a little embarrassed about being so needy.

“I’m teasing,” you reach for him, and he comes, his arms closing around your waist to pull you against his chest. You smile at him, fingertip poking his dimple as he grins back at you. You start to pull away to get ready for bed, but his arms tighten.

“Wait…” he breathes. “Don’t pull away. Not yet…”

You relax, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “Okay, I won’t.” A few moments of silence pass, and you watch each other. Your cheeks heat up, and his color a little as well. You can see him struggling with something under the surface. “What is it? Are you okay?”

“I’m okay,” he nods a few times before clearing his throat. “I just… I need to tell you something.” You wait, you knew JJ, and he needed to get this off his chest before you spoke again. “Half the time, I get so wound up I want to scream it at you, and other times you make me so nervous I can’t think straight enough to string two words together.”

“Jay?”

“I like you,” he whispers, and your eyes widen. He looks down at the limited space between you. “More than a best friend.”

Your lips part, but snap closed again as you try to process how to respond. His arms tighten before they loosen, and he steps back.

He scratches the back of his neck. “It’s okay if you don’t…”

“Jay,” you start, and he looks at you, his lip caught between his teeth. “I like you too. More than a friend.”

He crosses the distance, pulling you against him harshly in a tight hug. You gasp, and he grins when you wrap your arms around his neck.

“What now?” You ask.

But he stops any further commentary as he kisses you. His fingers press against your back, and yours find their way into the hair at the back of his head. The kiss ends, and your brush your nose against his.

“I’m definitely staying the night now. I want all the cuddles too.”

JJ laughs, and you join him before pecking his lips.

[fairszy]

— ✩ sirens song ;; zakkura

subtop!zack fair , powerbottom!cloud strife , trans cloud , puppy dynamics , fem presenting cloud , modern au , s/d dynamics , zack cries a bit, use of curse words , cloud is referred to as ‘she’ for the first part !

✩ authors notes at the end . . .

this is not the first time zack has found himself in this situation. he sits at a bar, a half empty whiskey in between his calloused hands.

it’s not as if something bad has happened to him, yet his face gives off the impression that the man has gone through hell and back in the last day or so.

zack recently discovered something — he has a crush. the ever well known, renowned, self proclaimed “no feelings attached” sex god . . has found himself lusting after someone.

does he know her name ? absolutely not. all he knows is she’s across this bar right now. she keeps to herself, blonde spikes that have slowly fell in front of the beauty’s face, blue eyes that felt like an eternal ocean to zack . . everything about his crush was stunning.

this was the fourth night this week zack found the comfort of the leather bar stool. each night he watched this blonde bombshell walk into the bar, exchange some words with another dark haired girl before taking a spot alone.

from there, the blonde doesn’t move. she sips on water — sometimes something stronger. each time she sports a pair of black faux leather shorts, knee highs, and some kind of band shirt that is so faded zack can’t read it.

all the man knows is that this person would be his.

his tonight.

— ✩

it starts with a small push of confidence. zack finds himself walking over to the booth in the corner — apparently much to the blondes dismay. he watches as the other tries to hide away from his glance, yet he deems it too far to turn back now.

“ hi there ! i’m zack — ”

the blonde cuts him off.

“ i know exactly who you are. ”

the response catches zack off guard so badly that his mouth hangs open partially agape. the blondes tone is cold, yet there’s something else to it. zack pins it off as embarrassment.

surely the raven haired would be stupid not to recognize his own reputation in the area. zack was known for being a service top — someone who got off on giving others exactly what they wanted and more. he would be stupid to play pretend with the mystery blonde.

that’s when it hits him.

the voice that has left his blonde princess is not one that falls from a typical girl. the lighting is dim but now zack can really see the person in front of him.

it’s a guy.

a very . . very pretty guy.

zack gulps, his fists tightening nervously before settling at his side. now zack knows he’s definitely not straight — however, he’s never really been with a guy. first time for everything, he thinks.

“ oh ? surely you don’t mean my reputation has expanded more than i’m aware of ? what have you heard ? ”

nice save, at least that’s what zack tells himself. he invites himself to sit down across from the, now identified, man. leaning almost stoically on his wrists, zack’s head lulls to the side in a beautiful display of innocence.

the blonde does actually chuckle slightly and zack feels his tummy fall into his pelvis. how cute could one human be ? why did this man have such an effect over him.

“ for starters — i’ve heard how stupid you are. not a thought behind those eyes huh ? ”

now zack was taken aback, no one had ever really talked to him like this . . why did he sort of like it ?

“ and secondly . . that you have a wicked good dick. ”

the final blow. zack goes bright red and he stammers only slightly as he tries to build back his composure. however after seeing the way that the man smirks at him, as if he knows he’s laid down the puzzle pieces of zack’s psyche right down in front of him.

“ wanna get out of here, zack ? ”

— ✩

that was the events that lead to the beginning of the end for zack. he finds himself in some random hotel room with this blonde. for such a small guy, zack was taken back when he’s pinned to the thick wooden door.

he suppresses a laugh as he watched the shorter stand on his tippy toes before pressing a kiss to zack’s neck. he’s rather gentle despite having a tight grip on zack’s shoulder.

“ someone’s eager, no ? ”

the soft kisses cease and before zack can even comment, he feels two sharp canines sink into the flesh on his neck. he hisses out in a mixture of pain and pleasure. normally, zack was the one to have people like this. he is usually the one who pins to the door and litters soft skin into a sea of bite marks.

it’s all so different than the usual and zack isn’t really sure how to feel. he’s insanely turned on, so much so that he can feel the wet spot forming on the fabric of his jeans — the blonde seems to notice that too.

“ ironic coming from you given that you’re practically leaking onto my leg. ”

zack flushed and reluctantly let out the small breath he didn’t even realize he was holding in. this person had some serious power over him that he didn’t think was possible. it felt similar to a siren, someone who zack simply could not resist.

“ what’s your name ? ”

zack breathes out. he wants to know who had this power over him. as the blondes lip curves into a small half smile zack feels his blush spread down to his neck.

“ you can call me cloud. ”

“ cloud. ”

the name slips off of zack’s tongue as softly as possible. cloud, the man who has effectively picked up his world and turned it upside down. however zack has very little time to process all those emotions as cloud’s hands wander downward. he pauses right at his belt.

“ that’s right. so maybe you do have a brain in there, huh puppy ? ”

and zack nearly faints. he swallows hard. zack has been compared to a puppy before many times, most of his work friends thought so any way. something about the way it sounded coming from cloud was completely different than the way zack was used to it hearing.

the blonde’s voice was slightly soft, half presenting some kind of faux sympathy. zack grunts a bit, partly because his bulge strains heavy on his jeans but mostly because a man half his size had him tied around his finger.

“ you liked that, didn’t you ? how pathetic. ”

the way cloud berates him is almost electric. zack shivers feeling the blondes nimble fingers pulling at his belt, unbuckling it with ease. zack doesn’t think he can take much more of the teasing. he grunts once more, huffing in fake annoyance.

he lifts cloud, ignoring how the blonde squeals in protest. his smaller fists hitting at zack’s back. however the dark haired man knows this all too well, cloud isn’t even trying to get away for real. he plays it up, lets zack enflate his ego for a moment — he isn’t aware it would be the last time he’d be in control for the evening.

the second clouds body hits the soft mattress he’s crawling up to the headboard, propping himself up against it.

“ stay. ”

cloud points to him. humming when zack doesn’t move a muscle. he slowly slinks away from the blonde on the bed, following where clouds finger points — the edge of the bed. he stands idly, a soft whine leaving past his lips.

“ before we start, you need to understand something about me. i’m not like a average man. ”

before zack opens his mouth to comment, cloud strips himself of his shorts. zack’s eyes nearly pop out of his skull at the sight of clouds milky white thighs but more importantly ? the thong that hugged the blondes hips. he bites his lip.

“ so you’ve got a cunt ? — shit sorry can i even call it that ?? what do you want me to call it ? ”

zack panics, he doesn’t want his ‘stupidity’ to ruin this for him. he wants to respect cloud to the fullest but is far to flustered to make a single coherent thought.

“ shut up — cunt is fine. hole works too. call me any girly names and i’ll kill you. ”

zack nods so hard he thinks his head could fall off.

“ got it ! i’ll be sure to treat you real good baby ”

and cloud hums in approval of not only the petname but the statement. he knew just how well zack could listen, he had no doubts that zack wouldn’t treat him like a king. with all the formalities in place, cloud continues his evening of torment.

“ now then. get over here, come boy. ”

“ m-must you really speak to me like a dog. ”

zack practically whines like a child who can’t their way, a small pout forms on his lips as he crawls on the bed. stopping in between the smaller’s legs. he takes a moment to admire the difference of their sizes. cloud is small and slim, covered in scars, and has a bit of muscle mass. zack however is a mountain of muscles, over six foot tall, and has stretch marks as such. together they were beautiful.

“ are you listening ? ”

clouds voice brings him back.

“ oh — ! sorry i . . got lost in my head, what were you saying ? ”

but zack gets no response. rather, he watches cloud smile despite him trying his best not to before being gripped by his shirt collar and pulled right into a kiss. zack can’t help but groan into the blondes mouth, cloud responding with a soft moan in tandem.

“ i said . . . i’ll stop talking to you like my dog when you prove you aren’t. ”

cloud practically pants the words out in between feverish kisses, a complete 180 from their last shared kiss. the use of the word ‘my’ has zack dizzy. he just nods, figuring maybe cloud was right. maybe zack really was just a nasty dog for him — i mean who stalks a guy four nights in a row just for fun ?

“ zack . . why don’t you be a good boy and take these off for me ? ”

with the most relaxed expression cloud pulls his legs up and holds them close to his chest, zack lets out a low groan at the outline of clouds wet folds staining the fabric of his thong.

“ anything for you cloud. ”

zack is quick to help cloud take off the clothing item, taking a moment to admire how beautiful the other is. his cute cunt is a soft pink colour, he has a small amount of near invisible blonde bush that blesses his pubic bone, and the best part is his beautiful swollen clit. zack had only ever seen these in porn but goodness was the real thing even better.

“ a picture would last longer, pervert. or is it you’re anticipating the next actions ? ”

zack flushes a bit, sliding his phone out and cloud all but snatches it out of his hands.

“ i was joking ! what a nasty dog . . ”

clouds voice mocks him, tsk’ing softly with a shake of his head. in one swift movement he grabs zack’s hair and tugs him right down in between his legs.

“ suck my dick , you don’t stop until i say so. ”

immediately zack nods, muttering a small ‘yes sir’ under his breath but it doesn’t get past cloud as he offers the older a hum of acknowledgement. zack takes the others erect clit in his mouth, sucking on the sensitive bundle of skin softly.

cloud lets out a soft gasp, his hands grip into his hair harder — now zack moans. it sends a shiver up clouds spine. zack pushes his weight forwards, forcing the others legs to fall over his shoulders. cloud can’t even see him anymore, just a mess of soft black hair spilling onto his thighs.

zack laps away in pure delight. he loved being a service top, he loved servicing someone and he never knew how much he’d love doing it for cloud.

“ fuckk zack . . now that’s — agh — a good boy. ”

the blonde’s words make that submissive switch in zack’s brain turn on completely. in this moment he whimpers at the praise, shuffling himself into a new position. he dives back into clouds now messy slit, a mix of drool and wetness coating his lips and cheeks.

his cock is so painfully hard as he ruts it against the mattress. zack needs some kind of friction as this whole situation has had him straining his cock painfully against his jean fabric. cloud, even in his blissed out state, notices this.

“ stop for now . . take those off. ”

zack jolts upright at the command — like a soldier at attention. without a second thought he follows what cloud has told him to do, moaning and hissing at how the cold AC air feels against his red and throbbing length. though he doesn’t dare touch it. he doesn’t even move. he locks eyes with his beautiful siren, waiting once more.

but the command doesn’t come. cloud gets on his knees and crawls closer before laying flat down on his stomach. his shirt slips down and just covers his ass out of zack’s view — zack hates that. however his thoughts are quickly seized upon feeling soft lips kiss at the tip of his cock.

“oh shit . . ”

is all the raven haired can say before his mouth falls open into an o shape. his head tips back slightly but it quickly comes back to look at cloud. he never wants to look away. zack stays stiff as he can, fighting any urges to fuck into the back of clouds warm soft throat. he normal doesn’t like anyone sucking him off but cloud . . ? he could stay like this forever.

but zack is getting painfully close.

clouds mouth is so soft and warm and inviting.

zack is borderline in tears by this point — he isn’t used to such overstimulating feeling. cloud looks so nice like this. his face is flushed and his blue eyes prick with tears at the corner of them. he all but crumbles when cloud takes him right down to the base, letting his tongue run up and down the length of zack’s shaft.

“ haaa ! cloud — ohfuckohfuckk — i’m c-close ! ”

then there’s nothing. cloud completely withdraws and zack cries. hot tears roll down his cheeks but suddenly they’re wiped away by the most beautiful man.

“ sorry puppy . . but i want you to cum inside. ”

suddenly zack doesn’t cry from desperation anymore, now he cries in need. letting his brain take over he shuffles behind cloud, yanking his shirt up and tugging his hips flush with his own. cloud immediately goes red, not expecting the ever so obedient zack to rebel against him.

yet cloud understands — as a matter of fact — his plan has worked. he teased the poor man to the point where he’s snapped and has become feral for just a taste of clouds hole. he doesn’t say anything yet, rather, he arches his back perfectly to line himself up with zack’s cock.

“ go ahead. fuck me like you need it. ”

a deep scruffy voice follows his words,

“ i do fucking need it. ”

zack growls out and cloud is delighted. suddenly it’s now clouds turn to become incoherent as zack slides right into the comfort of his hole. zack is much much bigger than he thought he would be and god does the stretch feel good. cloud moans and squirms while zack impatiently whimpers and bites his lip — willing himself not to snap his hips right up into the warmth he’s been chasing all evening.

cloud takes advantage of this to get some of his control over zack back.

“ g-good boy zack . . . your cock feels great. ”

“ pleeasseee ~ please cloud . . i need to feel you — c’mon baby please let me have you i — ”

cloud silences zack’s subtop state of babbling by leaning forward then back, fucking himself against the other. he was going to have to take clouds hole like this. but zack doesn’t care. if anything he leans back slightly to make it easier on cloud who uses his cock like a dildo.

“ t-thank you cloud — you’re so good to me babe. ”

unfortunately cloud can’t say much at the moment. the cock splitting him open makes much of anything else too hard to compute. the rumours were true, zack fair was an absolutely amazing fuck. cloud couldn’t believe he waited this long to make conversation with the man who’d been watching him for a few days now.

zack starts to go insane. cloud feels nice and tight but gods does he want to fuck him for himself. whimper after whimper tumbles out his mouth. cloud can’t keep his composure with how good zack sounds, how well he behaves. just like an obedient puppy cloud knows that zack will do anything to make him happy or to even get some praise.

cloud quickly feels his orgasm approaching, he squeezes down on zack’s cock with every single pulse of his insides and zack mewls in pure bliss.

“ gun’a cum — ”

is all the warning cloud can give before he’s biting the bedsheets in front of him. zack lets out a shaky breath before nodding in response,

“ yeah ? thas’ it cloud — cum for me okay ? please cloudy. ”

and that’s all it takes for cloud to finish off the first time that night. his body twitches and tenses while he throbs down tightly on zack’s shaft. the other can’t believe it, his nails dig so deeply into his thighs it’s almost drawing blood. he restrains himself despite wanting to spill his own cum right inside him.

“ more . . f-fuck me zack n don’t you dare fuckin’ stop. ”

zack nods feverishly as his hips snap right into cloud. in a moments time zack’s fingers dig tiny crescents into the plush skin of clouds hips. neither of them can fully speak now, just a sea of moans and half minded rambles. cloud feels incredible — zack starts to lose his composure even more.

“ cl — aah ! — cloud ! ”

is about as much warning as zack can give before he slips further into the feeling of a knot coming undone that lives in the pit of his stomach. before he completely finishes he hears the soft words of cloud,

“ cum for me puppy . . ”

that’s all it takes for zack to press himself completely forward, burying his cock deep within clouds warmth. his body twitches and spasms slightly as he finishes, loud moans spilling from his lips as he does so. the tears return on zack’s face and he’s just in a wonderful state of bliss.

cloud huffs, partially in annoyance but also because he’s mad he can’t watch zack through his orgasm. watch how he tenses and shuts his eyes real tight. the vice grip on his waist doesn’t end however, not that he cares that much.

“good job . . ”

he feels the grip lessen slightly and then the loss of something filling him up deeply. zack gently turns him over onto his back and swears he could get hard again. cloud is flushed and fucked out, a mix of his own seed and clouds slowly leaking out of his cunt.

zack must stare a little too long because cloud snaps his fingers to get his attention, eyes snapping up to meet clouds ocean blue ones. wordlessly, cloud dips a finger down in between his folds before holding out his glistening finger to zack.

“ clean me up. ”

“ as you wish cloudy ! ”

what a strange guy zack was, is what cloud thinks. however he knows this is far from the last time he’d ever see him. cloud has found a perfect loyal dog — he refuses to let that go.

thank you so much for reading ! i hope you enjoyed :>

the ffvii brainrot has spread so much that i spent all day writing this >.<

word count : 3.4k

© FAIRSZY , please do not repost, plagiarise, take credit for or translate my work anywhere !! ♡

[creative-caramel-coffee]

The Addams Allergy

Pairings: Thornhill x Weems x Reader (platonic)

Word count: 1.7K

Summary: Reader's allergy is a thing of myth, and someone decides to do some myth-busting. This won't end well for anyone.

TW: allergies, anaphylaxis, needles, hospitals, ambulance, difficulty breathing, bullying, attempted manslaughter (fancy legal terms hehe), mentioned heart attacks, physical violence

A/n I have added a link at the end for very simple instructions for how to administer an epipen. Spend like three minutes reading it and save lives. Also please reblog the linked post to help other educate themselves as well.

You suppose it wasn’t too bad being an Addams. But then again you weren’t quite the same as your sister Wednesday. You were more of an interim between Pugsly and Wednesday. You were soft but not squishy, cold but not frigid. You were actually most likely the most seemingly normal of all the Addams’s.

But being Wednesdays twin, you shared many things, a womb (for all of nine tortuous months), black hair, pale skin and your most inconvenient shared trait, an allergy to colour. Luckily though you did not share a dorm. You were roomed with Yoko who was much more palatable than the ball of colour who was Wednesday's ‘roomie’ as the wolf-pup had put it.

Unfortunately, most people were sceptical bordering on disbelieving about the colour allergy. Taking it as another Addams lie. And you being the easier target of the two of you often copped the most teasing. Everyone knew not to mess with Wednesday, but you were slightly easier. You cared more.

Yoko and you were sat in the library studying at the tables down the back when a group of siren boys came in. They had been teasing you a lot as of late and Yoko knew about it, but you begged her to keep quiet, you didn’t want to attract any more attention than you already had.

The boys were quick to spot you down the back and grinned wolfishly beelining straight for you. You let out a soft groan and Yoko looked up.

“If they lay a hand on you, I’ll drain them dry.”

“It's fine Yoko. I’ve got this.”

“The same way you ‘had it’ when you got a black eye i had to help you hide for two weeks?” She asked with a deadset tone. You grumbled a response when you felt your chair being pulled back.

“Hey!” Yoko said, “leave her alone.” She started but one of the boys spoke with his siren song.

“Sit” he commanded, and Yoko found herself no longer in control of her muscles as she sat and watched helplessly.

“So, a birdie told me your allergic to colour?” The main boy said, he was light-skinned with deep rich blue eyes and blonde curls. He looked like the type to be a surfer with the tan he had.

“That would be correct.” You nodded trying to remain calm and mimic your sister's tone.

“Well, how about we check you still have this … so called ‘allergy’” he said in a mocking tone. Pulling something from his pocket, you tried and failed to stop your eyes widening.

Between his thumb and forefinger was probably the most colourful and bright piece of fabric you had ever seen.

Despite the allergy, you hadn’t given any of your friends and epipen for you yet and the only people who had one were the nurses and weems. So, in other words unless Yoko was fast at running because the headmistress's office wasn’t too far, you may be looking at the object that would kill you.

Drawing a shaky breath, you looked the boy in the eyes. “As much as i love attempted murder, this isn’t a good idea.” You said

“Huh? Really?” He mocked “You think your smarter than me, don’t you?” He sneered and you gulped.

“Obviously.” You muttered and the boy scowled. Before you could stop him, he pinned you to the floor and shoved the scrap of fabric in your mouth. Your eyes went wide, and you began to flail and kick wildly trying to get him off.

Yoko was screaming bloody murder which seemed appropriate on more than one front.

After a second the boy rolled off you and stood brushing off his uniform.

“See… lies.” He said as you rolled onto your stomach, propped up on your elbows and spitting out the wet cloth onto the floor.

“Gross.” The boy said.

“You moron, let me go i need to get her epipen.” Yoko screamed and the boy's face morphed into something else for a second.

“Wait is she … actually?” He asked starting to look a little scared.

“Yes, you tool what would she gain from a fake allergy. Now let me go.” Yoko screamed and the boy froze before bolting. Luckily as he grew further away Yoko felt his song fading. She stood running over to you. You were laid on your back gasping as the anaphylaxis began to set in.

“W-weems.” You rasped and then coughed, your throat feeling ridiculously tight. Yoko nodded.

“You’ll be ok Y/n/n. Im going to get weems.” She said and raced out the doors.

Yoko ran the fastest she probably ever had in her immortal life. In a matter of seconds, she was banging hand over fist on the wooden doors before she simply pushed the open wasting no time.

“Ms Tanaka-“ Weems began, she was sat on the couch with Ms Thornhill looking equally startled.

“No time… y/n … epipen…now.” Yoko said between gasps. In a second both teachers were on their feet. Weems hurried over to her desk throwing open the second draw and pulling out the epipen she kept there just for you.

“Where is she?” Weems said with a commanding and scarily calm voice.

“Library.” Yoko replied and the three of them ran to the room of books.

Yoko led the two teachers to the back of the room where you were still gasping. Luckily for them you were already on the floor which made this next part easier.

“Christ.” Weems said, “Marilyn, call an ambulance.” She commanded as she uncapped the giant needle.

The Botany teacher scrambled to find her phone pulling it out and punching in the numbers for the emergency services.

Weems mentally recited the rhyme from when she had to do this for Morticia as a student as she pulled off the blue safety cap.

‘Blue to the sky orange to the mid-outer thigh.’ She thought and in one swift motion she lined it up with your thigh, Yoko having helped her pull down your skirt. She quickly stabbed your outer-mid thigh listening for the click and then counting to three before gently removing it. She gingerly deposited the epipen on the table.

The two teachers sat either-side of you while Yoko sat next to Ms Thornhill on your left. Your breathing began to even out, becoming less and less raspy as the epinephrine began to take effect.

Ms Thornhill was still on the phone with the emergency services who had assured her they were on their way now.

Both teachers and the vampire sat and watched with bated breath as they realised your breathing had stabilised.

After about ten minutes you tried to sit up, but the headmistress placed a hand on your shoulder.

“No. Stay lying down the EMTs will be here soon darling. Then I’ll come with you to the hospital, and they’ll check you out alright?” She said and you nodded and laid back down.

“Can i come too? I need to tell you something.” Yoko said and Weems made a thinking face and then nodded.

“Yes. After all, I do need to know how this happened. The Addams family know their limits and are quite good at avoiding this so any insight you could provide would be helpful.” The principal said and Yoko nodded. After another few minutes of tense silence, the emergency services came in and the paramedics gently lifted you onto a clean white stretcher. You hated the idea but luckily weems made sure nobody saw as you were taken to the ambulance that sat by the nevermore gates. Yoko and Weems joined you in the ambulance and Ms Thornhill waved as you were driven off.

About an hour later you were being held for observation. It was another three hours before they would let you go. You were sat up in a hospital bed with Yoko and weems sat in plastic chairs beside you.

“This feels like one hell of a power imbalance.” You muttered and both of them laughed.

“Well, you did just cheat death.” Yoko teased and you nodded.

“As an Addams it's an expected weekly occurrence. Kind of like a grim ostentatious weekly period.” You grinned always finding ways to relate everything to blood. Yoko groaned dramatically and facepalmed.

“And as the principal of two Addams’s who weekly try and take me with them to then grave, I’d say I’m cheating death myself with the number of heart attacks you and your sister attempt to induce upon my poor heart.” Weems said sounding exasperated.

“It wasn’t y/n/n’s fault though!” Yoko exclaimed and weems raised a brow while you opted to look out the window and avoid eye contact.

“You never did explain how this happened.” Weems said gesturing with a sweeping motion to the bed you were still in.

“Well i guess now’s as good as any and i doubt Ms. I-cheat-death-daily is going to spill.” Yoko said before launching into an explanation starting a few weeks ago when the teasing began. It was safe to say the principal was outraged.

“I will not have students attempting to murder each other.” She huffed with pure unadulterated rage in her eyes burning with fire, rage and brimstone with the likeness of hell itself. The look would have scared Satan into being as straight as a nun.

In a matter of seconds, she drew a deep calming breath, and you were reminded of the saying, the calm before the storm. Then she opened her eyes again and excused herself, walking out into the hallway and pulling out her phone. Not even five minutes after Yoko’s story ended, she was on the phone in the school board arranging his immediate expulsion.

About a half hour later, Weems returned looking flustered but when her eyes settled on you, she deflated slightly and gave a tender smile in your direction. Her eyes locked with yours, scanning for any hints of pain.

She had also texted the anxious botanist who had agreed to come by once you were discharged to drive the odd team home. As well as ordering about a dozen epipens for all your close friends and her office.

Once Weems had decided you were defiantly not in pain, she walked over to your bedside and gently brushed the hair from your eyes.

“It's dealt with darling. Nobody will hurt you now.” She assured and you blushed slightly at the contact, leaning into her hand.

You were safe. Alive. Breathing normally. And safe … again.

Masterlist

How to give an epipen here

[silly1ky]

STAN & KYLE HEADCANONS !!! :3

no one suggested it , i just simply wanted too lolz

stan: 

Had a short mullet in 8th-9th grade but dyes it blond over the summer out of nowhere lol. dyes it back to black his senior year

Listens to RADIOHEAD!!??

Plays the electric guitar 

Still apart of crimson dawn along with kenny

Butters and jimmy stopped playing - due to other school shit - so they held tryouts for a backup guitar player and a new drumist, eventually recruiting two freshmen

RAGING bisexual

Been kinda in love with kyle his whole life

Got braces in the middle of 7th grade and got them taken off at the end of 8th

Kyle eventually got braces too at the BEGINNING of 8th so throughout the whole year, him and kyle definitely matched bracket colors <3

5’8’’ ( 2 inches shorter than kyle )

Always been just a tiny bit shorter than kyle and has ALWAYS despised it while kyle relished in it lmao

Had his first kiss to wendy in 6th grade …. it was NOT good and they broke up like a month later 

They never got back together again, much to kyle's pleasure :D

To clarify, they did not break up bc the kiss wasn’t good, they both just realized that they were tired of eachother and that it was stupid trying to hold onto something from literal elementary school

They still talk sometimes but quickly get bored of each other

His style consists of pajama pants, baggy band t shirts, baggy jeans, blue hoodies, and converse

He totally has stickers all over his guitar along with “ k + s “ drawn with in silver sharpie <3

Pins and keychains decorated his school backpack

Sometimes paints his nails but gets mad or anxious and ends up peeling them off by lunchtime

Has wrote 16 songs all dedicated to kyle

HATES social media and only has accounts so that he could look at kyles posts and videos

Still uses an mp3 player .... he SAYS it's bc it sounds better but that's a bunch of bs. he definitely just uses it for the “look”

PLAYS HOCKEY

Was on the team for about a year in 9th grade but QUICKLY got sick of the practices 

Listens to radiohead, slipknot, iron maiden, weezer, and deftones

Favorite movies/tv shows are bojack horseman, mid90s, and shameless

Tried to learn how to skateboard with kyle and actually kept up with it for about the whole 10th grade

REFUSES to get a tiktok account

he would probably watch youtube shorts or instagram reels...... 🤠

He would send Kyle tiktoks that were funny like 7 months ago which he JUST got to see on ig reels.

He definitely had a fnaf phase

has car sickness totally

TOTAL dog person

both:

their houses are right next to eachother !!!

they definitely sneak into eachother's rooms at night

they got together sometime in middle school, after kissing on stan's roof and they both discovered that they were major fags for eachother

they go to the same college too!!!!

stan always joins kyle's tiktok or insta lives ( even if it's the most boring thing in the world )

"no homo dude" "oh yeah totally no homo lol" is their catchphrase most definitely

kyle:

Stayed on the basketball team throughout 8th-12th grade

5’10’’ 2 inches taller than stan

He loves being taller than him

gay gay homosexual gay

Didn’t really have to “come out” everyone kinda already knew he wasn't straight lol 

Had a little rebellious phase in 10th grade and ended up stabbing a needle through his nose and belly button at like 4 in the morning, the same night that stan bleached his hair ironically (not ironically as they had snuck out together lmao )

By 7am he had a nose stud, a belly ring, and his lobes pierced

Did them all by himself minus his bellybutton, which stan helped him with

It was literally just the piercing scene from thirteen LMAOOOO

Wardrobe mainly consists of sweatpants, green and brown hoodies, straight jeans, nike's, and ugg neumels. oh and lots of grandpa sweaters.

Listens to the cure, tyler the creator, radiohead, the smiths, and the offspring (sometimes ldr too)

Stopped wearing his hat in 7th grade, it just didn’t fit right anymore ( plus it kinda stunk )

Reads romance novels and hyperfixates over them definitely but he will NEVER admit this

ALWAYS live on insta and tiktok

Secretly LOVES stan's dyed hair (he totally thinks its hot)

His first kiss was with stan. at 2 am. on his roof.

Total grammer nerd

bullies ppl when they make grammar mistakes

Lowkey kinda popular on tiktok

STRAIGHT A'S!!!!! 

and REFUSES to get anything below a 85

fucking nerd

OH and he definitely cusses WAY to much ( its kinda a problem )

Gets into so many fights at school (mainly caused by cartman) but has developed kinda a bad reputation for himself

has such road rage

lowkey best friends with bebe

thinks elvis is hot

LOVES adult cartoons

when sheila isn’t home, him, ike, and gerald watch family guy

TOTAL cat person

[lanadelreyscokewhor3]

SUMMERTIME SADNESS- S.G ROGERS

Pairing: Benefits!Steve x Fem! Reader

Word Count: 1.1k

Summary: steve has captured your heart for the summer, filling each day and night with nothing but bliss. but what happens when summer ends, when the older man needs to get back to his life- away from you?

Warnings: SMUT, petnames, breeding kink, praise kink, swearing, some fluff and angst. a lot of angst:(

“think i’ll miss you forever... like the stars miss the sun in the morning sky..”- summertime sadness, lana del rey

“I love you.” you whispered, voice cracking so softly it was as if a pin had dropped. He didn’t stop. It was almost as if Steve hadn’t even heard you, despite your lips being right next to his ear, whisper caressing the shell of his ear as his head dropped against your neck, breathing you in. 

“I love you.” you repeated softly, crying out as he thrust even harder into you, causing your toes to curl. 

“No, you don’t.” he groaned in response, your words hitting him straight to the heart. Through his chest cavity. It was as if his lungs were air balloons, suddenly punctured with the tip of a shining knife. 

“You can’t love me. You’re not allowed to love me.” 

“Why not?” you asked, the question burning like acid in your throat. You wanted the blonde haired, baby blue-eye doll of a man since the beginning of summer.

 You wanted his touch, his teeth, his praise. He had given you all of it, the summer love you had for him blossoming into something more than just a fuck. 

It was rolling in fields full of daisies in the early morning, running down the Santa Monica boardwalk and watching the waves lap against the wooden supports when the sunset. It was stolen kisses through opened windows, joints smoked and passed in the evenings in the alcove of your bedroom while a record played. 

So yes, yes you loved him. You loved everything about the man. You loved how he praised you and made you come alive when you had felt so dull before, a sad girl trapped in a shell that flaked away like paper in a forest fire.

 Steve had enighted you. A thing of poetry, so delicate and meaningful was all you could describe him as. And as he lifted your thighs, draped them across his large, tanned shoulders and fucked you harder he was telling you he wasn't allowed to love you.

 “I’m not good for you petal. I’m so, so bad for you. I don’t wanna- fuck- hurt you.” he moaned, long locks draping in front of his eyes as he squeezed them shut, almost scared to look at you and your beauty. 

He didn’t know if he could stand it. 

The idea of leaving you made him sick, but the idea of staying made it even worse. He couldn't stay. He had to remain a summer daydream, a candle in the wind. But he had let it slip. The nickname he had given you at the start of the warmer months, stuck on this tongue. 

Petal. You were his petal. A soft, colourful, bright and soft little thing, full of life he was so thrilled to pull out of you to reveal to the world. And he was just making it harder on himself to come here and do what he wanted to the most, calling you such sweet, soft things, ravishing your body as if it was edible.

 “You’re so good to me. You’re so, so good for me Stevie.” you hiccuped, hands finding his cheeks to cup them, head thrown back against the pillow as he drilled into you, as if he was using you as a means to forget his troubles.

 Let him. If you made him feel like home, maybe he'd tell you you were his. 

“Please. Don’t make me cry.” you sniffled, feeling a tear fall down your cheek, sticky and hot as he licked it from your flesh, tongue seeming to seep right through the layers of you, plunging deep into your skull as he caressed the inside of your brain. 

“It’s too late for us Petal. You know this, I know this yea?” he murmured softly. You didn’t want to accept it. It was much more doable if you could live in the make-believe, the fantasy you had created in your brain where he could stay and it could be the hot summer months forever. 

Where he didn’t have to go back to his job, move back to his place in the city so far away, where you didn’t need to go back to your life either. It was hard. It was so, so very difficult- holding his cheeks in your hands seeing his wide pupils consume you whole as he brushed your g-spot, filling you as he did every other night. 

“I’m so, so sorry.” he sighed as you screamed his name, orgasm washing over you like the mist by the ocean in the morning light, when the sun was just barely peaking over the clouds, when his hand was tight in yours as the waves curled around your toes in the sand. 

It was bliss. It was a sense of heaven, an escape as he stuffed you, groaning as you tended to him, though your legs continued to shake- letting him fill you until he spilled out of you. 

Thank you petal. He would always whisper after, repeating the phrase as if it were a chant- some kind of hymn always on the tip of his tongue whenever you were near. 

Thank you, thank you, thank you. His lips brushed yours and you were hesitant to pull away to catch a breath. Tonight it was different. The lines were blurred, his lips still remaining to find yours, as they always had, coaxing you open and breaking you apart like a piece of glass china he had smashed on the ground and had left for the maids to bleed from their feet.

 I’m sorry, I’m so sorry petal. I really am. 

“Please.” was all you could murmur, haziness seeping through your body, your muscles feeling loose as he slipped out of you, though still in your grasp. You lay there, quietly as you listened to the cicadas chirp away outside your bedroom window, the cool night breeze making the curtains sway. The window was slightly cracked, just slightly, the way you liked it. You always left it open just a smidge after Steve crawled through it. 

But now here you were, holding the man, his head resting against your chest, your hands tanging in his blonde hair, shushing him softly as you felt the tears trickle from his eyes onto your stomach. He didn’t want to leave you. He couldn't stand to part with you. But it had to be done. 

“I need you to understand petal.”

 “I don’t want to understand.” you murmured, brushing his hair gently. But you knew, deep down no matter what you said or did, he’d have to leave. So you just held him. Until your eyes drifted shut, the feeling of his hands brushing your skin in soothing motions coaxing your aching body to sleep. 

The next morning, it was as if he was never there. All that was left was the feeling of his hands on your hips, the smell of his cologne. The polaroid of the two of you that was once on your bedside table was gone. 

[kayakischaotic]

PJO/HOO/TOA HEADCANONSSSS 🎉🎉🎉

WHOS READY TO RUMBLEE

also I haven’t read the books in awhile + I have terrible memory so o7

clears my throat

PERCY JACKSON:

—>all my faves had a emo phase. including Peter Johnson

—>he owns a BUNCH of different earrings, nothing too big or extravagant, but like a little fish, maybe an arrow, etc

—>dyes part of his hair blue because he’s Percy

—>Sally TOTALLY knew he was bi when he was little

—>has a bi flag necklace (I’m jealous)

—>once dyed his hair blonde while he was at camp and after everyone called him a dumb blonde he decided to never dye it blonde again

—>he totally loves having his hair played with cause Sally used to always play with his hair when he was a kid

—>his eyes change from blue to green depending on the lighting

—>he’s been the little mermaid for Halloween at LEAST once

—>has an extensive collection of Hawaiian shirts

ANNABETH CHASE:

—>she sticks a bunch of little pins on her Yankees hat

—>doesn’t know how to drive (at least not very well)

—>if she could she’d have road rage so much

—>probably owns at least 5 different pairs of earbuds/headphones that she uses on her iPod and/or Daedalus’s laptop

—>building a campus place similar to New Rome at CHB

—>instead of a box of chocolates for Valentines day, she once gave Percy a bag of M&M’s. but only the blue ones

—>drinks at least 3 cups of coffee most days

—>bi-curious/questioning

—>also questioning her gender a bit

—>read Harry Potter and couldn’t tell if she wanted to BE Hermione or be WITH Hermione (still can’t tell)

GROVER UNDERWOOD:

—>pan, ace

—>will eat anything if he’s stressed

—>has little rings he can put around his horns for added style

—>tism

—>he/they KING!!

—>will just snack on a head of lettuce

—>has to wear reading glasses (what a nerd /pos)

—>has an extensive knowledge of which plants around CHB taste good, and which taste bad (has definitely been taken to the medics once or twice for eating poisonous plants)

JASON GRACE:

—>everyone makes fun of him because of The Brick™️.

—>THEATER KID

—>will ramble to you about wolves for as long as you will let him

—>frequently dyes small strips of his hair with hair chalk

—>him and Annabeth are like best friends. please.

—>questioning

PIPER MCLEAN:

—>she ate the rest of the non-blue M&M’s for Annabeth

—>genderfluid she/her lesbian.

—>helps Hazel, Annabeth, and the other girls do their hair (and sometimes Percy)

—>sees Jason and Leo as her brothers

—>wears suits to fancy events

—>usually uses her charmspeak to win at board games

—>girl in red’s biggest fan

—>EVERYONES WINGMAN

LEO VALDEZ:

—>makes everyone friendship bracelets

—>will totally light candles just to watch them burn

—>pretends he’s Festus’s vet whenever he has to fix him

—>calls the Argo II his child

—>doesn’t have a proper sleep schedule in the slightest…

—>gay, demiboy

—>totally introduced everyone else to neo/xeno pronouns

—>he/they/it mainly, but also uses a bunch of neos and xenos

—>has a dragon stuffed animal he calls Festus Jr. that he struggles to sleep without

—>he is the autism creature /j

—>will call anyone in sight bro or dude

—>scared of heights

—>keeps calling himself “the rizzler”

REYNA AVILA RAMIREZ-ARELLANO:

—>therapist friend

—they/she

—demiromantic asexual

—>astrology lover

—>straight A student without trying or studying

HAZEL LEVESQUE:

—>the only person on the Argo II that can keep a plant alive (somehow)

—>unlabeled

—>her and Nico help paint everyone’s nails

—>is always wearing either a skirt or overalls. (better yet: overalls skirt)

—>lactose intolerant

—>totally holds a dance at Camp Jupiter that is similar to a school dance at least once a year

FRANK ZHANG:

—>token straight friend

—>has a fairly large stuffed animal collection (only to be rivaled by Octavian’s)

—>if he ever visits CHB he purposely avoids being near the fire

—>makes the rest of the 7 watch superhero movies with him

—>owns lots of comics

—>him and Percy ramble about superheroes and comics together

NICO DI ANGELO:

—>certified DJ of the 7

—>his favorite restaurant isn’t even McDonald’s.. (it’s Olive Garden /j)

—>if demigods could use technology, he would totally be a tumblr user. (happy (late) Ides of March)

—>THEATER KID

—>he keeps saying “gaslight gatekeep girlboss” and everyone is kinda confused

—>loves listening to 70s/80s/90s rock

—>is (attempting) to learn the drums

—>survives off of energy drinks and coffee

—>has a nightlight in his cabin for when Will visits

—>also listens to Crywank

WILL SOLACE:

—>definitely has dressed up as a lamp for Halloween

—>HE/THEY!!!

—> trying to convince Nico to be in a band with him, playing guitar, Austin, playing sax, and Apollo, playing flute (Nico’s not having it)

—>favorite color is “all of them”

—>attempts to grow plants (fails)

—>he would totally be addicted to Tiktok if he had it

—>if anyone asks what time it is he will respond one of three ways: “it’s time for lunch” “its game time” or “it’s time for you to get a WATCH”

—>he’s really bad at reading clocks

—>totally cried during Frozen

APOLLO/LESTER PAPADOPOULOS:

—>he/they bi icon

—>motto is “fake it til you make it”

—>adhd, probably

—>always looses board games

—>chronically online…

—>will purposely sing the wrong words to popular songs so half of CHB thinks they’ve been singing these songs wrong the entire time

—>him and Nico bond over saying things like “gaslight gatekeep girlboss”

—>scared of the dark

—>quotes Mean Girls at least once a day

—>trying to make a theater class at CHB (Chiron agrees, Dionysus is… not quite there yet)

—>surprisingly good at lying (fake it til you make it!)

—>some Aphrodite kids told him their skincare secrets while he was mortal and gave them a few products

—>wears eyeliner on a daily basis

—>when he was a mortal the Aphrodite cabin and his cabin played dress-up on him and made him wear a bunch of weird outfits

THATS ALL FOR NOW!!!!!

I bet you totally can’t tell who my favorites are by how much they have put down…. /s

TELL ME SOME OF YOUR HEADCANONS SO I CAN ADD THEM TO MY HOARD

[elena-mayfair]

Dreams - part one

Paring: Bruce Wayne x f!reader, Batman x f!reader Genre: Thriller, mystery, with elements of slow-burn romance Warnings: rating T+/M, strong language, unsettling images, themes of depression, depictions of mental illness Summary: When Bruce Wayne asked you if you would go with him to Metropolis for the weekend to attend one of the most important events in the business that was TechX you expected to hear from him over the week. You expected maybe a visit to the office, a phone call, or at least an email and instead you got complete silence. Bruce did not write, did not call, did not show up at work, did not show up at the office, no headlines, no Twitter posts, absolutely zero contact for a week. "Of all people, why would he want to take a trip with me," you wondered. Word count: 12k Note: Most gifs are not mine, credit to the authors.

Series masterlist

***

Blue and red lights were flashing in the darkness of night as Batman crossed the yellow tape that marked the crime scene. He rarely appeared at crime scenes, being used to operating from the shadows and disappearing at the first sound of sirens coming from afar yet there were exceptions. That night was one of them. Gordon didn't dwell on his explanations, illuminating the night sky with a signal only to state in a grave tone a few minutes later "you have to see this." Batman didn't question. The shocked expression on Gordon's face told him all he needed to know. He rushed to his car only to follow Gordon toward the unknown. Toward, as it turned out, a nightmare he had not seen in a long time.

Silence fell as soon as he walked in between the policemen. All movements seemed to stop for a moment, conversations grew quiet, while all eyes turned to him. All except one. Gordon had ignored the surprised looks of his officers, ordering them to make a space, to leave the crime scene, to shut up if they wanted to keep their badges. Batman merely followed. Between the trees and benches of Robinson Park, reluctantly stepping out of the shadows and into the dim light of the street lamps, he had to, Gordon needed him. Whatever was waiting for him was so terrible that Gordon was willing to subject himself to the judgment of his men under him just to be able to lead the investigation with him at his side.

"They were found about an hour ago," he began quietly, "an elderly woman reported it after her dog smelled blood. The paramedics are taking care of her, she's in shock," he explained as he rubbed his tired eyes and lit a cigarette. "For a moment I thought it was Zsasz's work, but something does not fit here," he continued, "you'll see for yourself." In a harsh tone he ordered the two forensics to move away then crouched down and sighed heavily, "I hope you'll be able to deduce something from this because I'm not."

Batman froze in a stupor for a moment. On the ground between the trees, huddled against a bench a woman's body lay. Young, classy, elegant, probably from a good home. Light blond hair not so long ago perfectly pinned up was now messy, draped with leaves and mud, stuck to her face. Her elegant makeup was showing through the countless cuts on her face, the remnants of her red lipstick blurring with the wide cut of her lips reaching to the sides of her face, merging with the red of the cooling blood trickling down her slit throat straight onto her once creamy velvet coat. Multiple slashes scarred her body, deep, wide, tearing flesh, destroying organs, ripping out life. In her arms, she was cradling a child, a little girl with wide-open blue eyes, whose head was falling lifelessly to the back.

"Batman?" Gordon asked, observing his friend who stepped a few steps closer.

"Jewelry, purse, whoever did it took nothing," Batman stated quietly, "a diamond ring on her finger, a gold wedding ring, diamond earrings…" he reached into the pocket of her coat and pulled out a phone handing it to Gordon to be secured as evidence.

"So far you're not telling me anything I don't already know," Gordon growled.

"Rough night?" Batman decided to ignore the commissioner's tone.

"Fucking rough month…" Gordon once again sighed heavily, "we haven't caught one murderer yet and already another one is emerging!"

"A murderer…" Batman muttered calmly and crouched down by the bodies, "I'm not so sure."

"What do you mean?"

"Dilated pupils... bulging veins…bruised fingers and lips…dilated nostrils…" Batman mumbled to himself while looking more closely at the woman's body, but Gordon could hear everything, "clenched teeth and hands…" he examined the child's body more closely, careful not to gaze into her wide-open terrified eyes.

"We've already photographed everything, you can if you must…" seeing as Batman struggled to spot the leads Gordon gave permission. Frozen bones crackled as Batman cautiously drew back the woman's still arm.

"The child's body was crushed…. exophthalmos… fingernails broken, scratches…" he examined the child's body then the mother's body then rose from his knees, reached into the utility belt and pulled out a flashlight. Slowly and cautiously, with the flashlight pointed to the ground, he began to move away from the corpses. Step by step, scanning each millimeter of the ground beneath his feet carefully, separating the traces of police boots, from the traces of dog paws, deciphering every detail, reading the last hours from leaves, branches and mud.

"She was dragged here…" Gordon spoke up quietly.

"No… not dragged…" Batman walked a few more steps then returned to the bodies, "she was moving away, clear heel marks pressed into the wet ground. She tumbled over, moving backward, pushing away from someone."

"Killer?""

Batman did not answer. He crouched in front of the bodies once more and began scanning all the details once more. Mud on her hands, on the back of her velvet coat, lumps on her shoes confirmed his assumption. Frightened eyes, mother and child, mother's clenched hands, bulging veins….

"She was afraid…" he finally stated, "she was terrified. Whatever or whomever she saw she wanted to get away from him. She wanted to protect her daughter. She held her tight, too tight. The girl tried to break free, scratching her mother's face. She was in pain. But she was afraid…so much so that in an attempt to protect her daughter she crushed her ribs and suffocated her after which she died of a heart attack."

"A heart attack?" Gordon asked surprised.

"A heart attack," Batman repeated, "wounds…. on her face, on her abdomen, on her chest, were inflicted posthumously."

"Forgive my skepticism but how can you tell?"

"The wounds are precise, detailed," Batman pointed with his finger to the slit in the mouth and the slit in the throat, "if she was alive, she would try to fight, the wound would not be so clean. The blood loss is comparatively too small and there is no sign of splatter. In a state of fright, her blood pressure would have been at least 180-200/120. Cutting the carotid artery at such pressure would have caused the blood to gush out. There would have been marks on the ground all around."

"Makes sense…" Gordon nodded, " an attempt to pose it as murder?"

"Clumsy. Whoever did it was unsure, he was trying to fake a murder or cover up the actual cause of death but he hadn't done it before. He wanted to be accurate, too accurate, he improvised, he didn't think like a murderer.

"Who then?"

"A psychopath."

***

When Bruce Wayne asked you if you would go with him to Metropolis for the weekend to attend one of the most important events in the business that was TechX you expected to hear from him over the week. You expected maybe a visit to the office, a phone call, or at least an email and instead you got complete silence. Bruce did not write, did not call, did not show up at work, did not show up at the office, no headlines, no Twitter posts, absolutely zero contact for a week. You checked the TechX profile to find out if his attendance had already been announced, and sure enough, posts announcing the billionaire playboy CEO Wayne Enterprisses' presence had been trending for days. Yet you haven't heard from Bruce. On Wednesday, you began to think that perhaps you should write to him and ask where and when you were supposed to show up, what time your flight was leaving, and from which airport. After all, it was somewhat of a business trip. TechX was starting on Friday evening and would wrap up by noon on Sunday, so even though doubts were beginning to cloud your mind, just in case, you started packing your suitcase and preparing the right clothes for the trip. You checked your email, checked your spam folder, checked your business mail, nervously glanced at your phone knowing that even though he hadn't asked you for your phone he had access to it, still no contact. On Thursday, you discreetly asked Lucius if Mister Wayne was perhaps in the office, under the pretext of discussing feedback on your project. You were not sure if Lucius knew, you were not sure if this was more of a business trip or more of a social one, you were not sure what kind of relationship Lucius and Bruce had, and above all at all costs you wanted to remain professional. Lucius only replied with his typical smile that Mister Wayne was out of town and then added, "don't worry, the information will come, he hasn't forgotten." The suggestive smile and the tone of his voice took you aback, suggesting that he wasn't really talking about feedback on the project. Resigned, you returned home, ready to give up, unpack your suitcase and settle in for the weekend with a bag of chips in front of your favorite TV show. "Of all people, why would he want to take a trip with me," you wondered. You didn't have to wait long for an answer. A short message, just a few words and the nervous frenzy began all over again.

"I hope you are ready. The car will pick you up tomorrow at 11:30am. See you then."

And period. No emoji, no smiley face, no emotion. And yet it didn't seem to you that someone like Bruce was a man who used emojis. That message made you realize that Bruce was a man who apparently had no need to ensure, to check, to confirm. He was a man who was certain and decisive, if he said something once it was clearly so. And he probably expected the same from the people around him.

"I'll be ready. See you tomorrow."

You wrote back briefly and succinctly but even though you didn't add a smiley face, a grin lit up your face. The craziness had begun. You thought you were prepared and yet suddenly everything seemed inappropriate. The dress you had chosen was too casual, unsuitable for a public appearance in the company of someone like him. The sneakers you wanted to fly in flew out of the bag, "I can't walk around in sneakers next to a guy wearing Tom Ford suits," you scolded yourself. Classic straight black pants replaced jeans, a black dress shirt with chiffon sleeves replaced a more formal one, a black leather jacket also went into the bag, plus two dresses one more businesslike than the other just in case. Your favorite black-heeled boots that match everything also went to the bottom of the bag, along with, to your displeasure, black heels. "Okay, that looks good. Now only accessories, electronics, and cosmetics," you assessed the contents of the bag with satisfaction. You were excited. All sadness disappeared replaced by a radiant smile, the burden of the past days' experiences seemed insignificant, worries were replaced by a wonderful mood, the only thing missing was an unexpected knock at the door.

You didn't expect anyone, after all, who could visit you unannounced. Convinced that it was a courier with plane tickets, you turned down the music and ran to open the door. Green eyes shone before you as the blood froze in your veins.

"You don't call, you don't write, you don't answer my calls, I decided to drop in." Jonathan smirked, "can I come in?"

"Jonathan this is not a good time," you answered not feeling like having the uncomfortable conversation that awaited you.

"There hasn't been a good time all week," he chuckled spitefully and, without waiting for your permission, entered the apartment, "are you avoiding me?"

"I'm not avoiding you!" you denied immediately.

"Forgive me, but after you slipped out in the middle of the night leaving a note that you would be in touch only to not hear from me all week, I dare say you are avoiding me," anger boiled under a facade of calm control.

"I just needed some time to myself, that's all," you tried to dismiss it with a chuckle, "I needed to sort things out in my head."

"And apparently you need not only time but distance," his glance swept over to the open suitcase, "you going somewhere?"

"To Metropolis, on business," you replied briefly as if it was nothing important, " sorry, I didn't mention it, the time wasn't right."

"It was. Apparently, you just didn't want to tell me about it."

"I didn't think it was something you should know about," you shrugged, "if you were my therapist I would have simply called off the appointment."

"But I'm not your therapist," Jonathan's voice sounded dangerously low.

"You're not…." you repeated, "and actually who are you, huh?!" you spat angrily, "what is this?! This strange thing between us. You are not my therapist and yet you are putting me through some horrible therapy methods! You're not my therapist because a therapist wouldn't be angry with my business trip. You're supposedly my friend and yet you won't say that there isn't something between us…." you paused in a half word, "what are we?"

"Do you really have a need to give it a name?" Jonathan came closer and took your hand. His green eyes shone intensely as he said, "some relationships are more complicated to give them a definite name."

"I'm trying to control the chaos in my life, and I'm not sure if you're helping me with that or not," you replied, aware that his proximity certainly wasn't helping. Jonathan didn't respond, only reached into the inside pocket of his jacket and pulled out a cream-colored envelope.

"I was planning to give you this after therapy but there was no time," he wryly accented your words handing you the envelope, "I was hoping that as my friend you would like to accompany me."

You opened the sealed, elegant envelope made of thick cream paper and pulled out a richly decorated stylish invitation. The headline proclaimed The Thomas Wayne Annual Gala of the Scientific Association.

"You want me to go with you?" you whispered in surprise staring at the invitation, "I don't know what to say, you surprised me."

"Say you have an evening dress in your closet," he smirked then added, "The gala is usually a boring party full of snobs and self-obsessed members of the scientific society, but in your company, it would be bearable. Besides, I thought you could use some entertainment. The food and music are mostly exquisite."

"Is that supposed to help me name this thing between us?"

"You think too much of it all my dear," green eyes shone intensely as he put a finger under your chin forcing you to look at him, "but if you must name it so much, then let it be your way. I like you. Consider it a date," a thrill ran over your skin as he spoke the last words in a smokey voice.

"A date…" you repeated in your mind while looking at the invitation, "damn, it's on Sunday! I'm in Metropolis until Sunday. Why didn't you say something earlier?!"

"I wanted to. A week ago. But you chose to avoid me."

"I'm gonna make it," you glanced nervously at your watch which indicated four o'clock in the afternoon, "you need to go!" you ordered and started rushing to get dressed.

"What? Why?!"

"You need to go now!" you grabbed your jacket, bag, keys "I gotta run! I don't have an evening dress!"

***

At exactly 11:30 on a Friday morning, a black Chrysler parked on the side of your street. You applauded in your mind your decision to wait in front of the building when the car pulled up at the exact appointed time, not a minute earlier or a minute later. Excitement quickened your pulse as you waited for the charming man who would get out in a moment to take your luggage from you and help you get into the car, but Bruce was not there. The driver's door opened and an older gray-haired, slender man in a three-piece suit with his shirt buttoned up to his neck tied with a black bow tie got out of the car. He bowed his head politely and spoke in a strong British accent.

"Miss Y/L/N I presume. Alfred Pennyworth at your service," he bowed gracefully and, without waiting for your permission, took your suitcase and coat from you, "Miss, allow me."

"Alfred! Nice to meet you, Bruce has mentioned you," you smiled politely thanking him and handing him your luggage. Confused, you waited for his instructions, you were not used to such treatment. Alfred placed your suitcases in the trunk, laying your coat perfectly flat, then opened the passenger door with a gesture inviting you inside. You smiled thanking him again.

"The plane departs at 1:15pm. The flight is scheduled for exactly one hour and forty-five minutes which gives a landing time in the Metropolis of 3pm. The weather in Metropolis is excellent. Sunny, temperature around twelve degrees Celcius or fifty-seven Fahrenheit, however, the evening is forecast to be colder so I suggest you bring an outer garment," Alfred informed as he started the engine and drove the car out onto the busy road, "in your seat pocket you will find a folder with the event schedule."

"I suppose Mister Wayne is already in Metropolis," you prompted, looking over the event schedule, "since he didn't come to pick me up in person."

"You look troubled miss," Alfred cast a glance in the rearview mirror, "is everything alright?"

"Yes, of course! I'm sorry," you faltered, "if I can be completely honest this is all new to me! I didn't expect this trip to happen at all considering that he messaged me yesterday afternoon. I'm flying to the biggest event in the industry and I don't even know what airline! I'm a little nervous."

"I understand," Alfred visibly frowned, "in that case, I am obliged to apologize on behalf of Master Wayne. Master Wayne can be quite a busy man," he explained kindly, "I hope you were not offended in any way."

"No, of course not," you smiled, hoping it would look natural.

"Master Wayne will be expecting you at the airport," he informed, "and don't you worry about your ticket and lines. Master Wayne does not fly commercial airlines."

"Of course…he flies private…" you sighed pensively, "why didn't I think of that."

You didn't have to wait long to see for yourself the luxury of travel in the company of Bruce Wayne. Thirty minutes and a dozen politely exchanged sentences later, a black Chrysler pulled up at the back of Gotham City International Airport in perfect synchronization with the familiar gray Lamborghini. Your heart skipped a beat when you saw his car approaching. Alfred parked, and you, not used to the custom, reached for the door handle eager to get out.

"Allow me, Miss," Alfred immediately reached for the door and extended his hand offering assistance. You smiled apologetically and once again thanked him. You kept repeating in your mind that it wasn't a cab, that you didn't have to worry about your luggage, you didn't have to glance nervously at what was happening to it, you didn't have to collect it from him, nor pay or tip him. The only thing left for you to do was to wait awkwardly and watch as Bruce got out of the Lamborghini and walked with a slow nonchalant pace toward you. He smiled, elegant as ever and yet the few days of stubble on his face suggested that he had indeed had a busy week.

"You look nervous," he smirked as he approached you.

"Is it that obvious?" you chuckled.

"If it's because of the plane then I understand, I don't like to fly either," he admitted, reducing the distance and standing in front of you. For a moment he flinched as if he wanted to kiss you on the cheek however he chose not to, "please excuse me for a moment," he excused himself and pulled Alfred aside.

You watched them from afar as they talked in hushed voices. Something was clearly bothering Bruce, he was giving orders as was in his habit while Alfred remained silent for a long moment nodding in agreement. For a moment you thought it was a conversation between a superior and a subordinate, but when Bruce finally turned silent and Alfred began to speak, you realized it was in fact a conversation between son and father. Bruce's face darkened and this time it was he who nodded in agreement before they both turned in your direction.

"Shall we?" the mask returned to Bruce's face as he pointed to the plane.

"It was a pleasure to meet you, Mr. Pennyworth," you smiled courteously.

"The pleasure was all mine Miss," Alfred replied with a bow, "have a safe trip."

Feeling like in a movie scene, you followed Bruce. Brought to the airport by a private butler on the way to a private plane alongside one of the most influential men in the world. "How did that happen?" you chuckled under your breath.

"What's so funny?" Bruce threw a sidelong glance at you.

"Reality," you replied, "ignore me, please. It's just myself thinking to myself about myself."

"Care to share?" he asked, offering you a hand and assisting you to board the plane. This time you didn't rush.

"Nope!" you replied with a grin, "I'll keep it to myself."

The interior of the plane turned out to be exquisite like everything around Bruce. Spacious, suitable for up to six passengers. There was no stewardess, only a well-stocked bar and a mini-fridge at each of the lodges. Everything in wood and leather conveyed luxury but didn't scream hubris.

"This is the first time that I'm seeing an airplane without a flight attendant," you noticed as you settled comfortably into a soft seat so big you could sleep in it.

"I value my privacy," Bruce explained.

"I noticed. Private car, private pilot, private plane," you listed, "you're very secretive Mister Wayne."

"It comes with the job," an infuriating smirk once again dawned on his face and you were sure it wouldn't go away anytime soon. As soon as the two of you were left alone, something changed, the expression on his face, the look in his eyes, and the tone of his voice, were completely different from how they had been a moment ago, "Alfred informed me that it was extremely rude of me not to call you for a week," he began softly, "forgive me. I didn't mean to cause consternation or doubt."

"I have nothing to forgive," you replied, "Mr. Pennyworth has already apologized for you, explaining that you happen to be a very busy man. I should have come to those conclusions myself."

"Which doesn't explain my behavior," Bruce continued, "I know that I can sometimes come off as neglectful."

"It's okay, really," you assured him, "I was stressing, that's all. TechX is a dream come true! I typically like to have everything planned to the T' and you didn't give me that opportunity. Sorry, I'm not used to well…" you hesitated weighing your words, "let's just say I feel like Alice who fell out on the other side of the mirror."

"What do you mean?" you weren't sure if he was pretending to be ignorant or if he really was.

"Well, you're not going to tell me that all this is standard!" you laughed, "because it's not!"

"Oh, right!" he awkwardly rubbed his neck, "but don't worry, you'll get used to it."

Your heart hit stronger in your chest but you remained calm. The implications of his words were not hard to read, and once again you couldn't help but wonder if he said it on purpose.

The plane rose into the air remarkably gently, and although you felt a pressing force in your stomach it was not as unpleasant as usual.

"I read the event schedule, it looks packed!" you began as soon as the plane reached the right altitude, " sorry for asking, but the unknown frustrates me, what's the plan? What time should I be ready today? What about tomorrow? When are we flying back to Gotham?"

"You have a lot of questions," he noted, "but I understand, so I'll try to outline a plan. The whole event runs from today until Saturday evening, late at night. I have planned to return to Gotham on Sunday at noon. A car will pick us up at the airport today and take us to the hotel. I've reserved two suites for us at the Metropolis Plaza Hotel," gentleman as always, "we'll have about three hours to freshen up before the event starts," he ran his hand over his beard, "and shave in my case. Don't worry about anything. Everything in your hotel room is for your use. If you feel like ordering something just do it. The hotel staff knows what to do. Don't worry about meals at the event venue there will be plenty of them. Tomorrow evening after the main event ends we are going to attend, well private party…" he chuckled seeing your amused look.

"Again, sorry but I have to ask, dress code business or business casual?"

"I'm sure whatever you have in your bag will be perfect for the occasion," a smirk flashed over his face once again, "but I think business elegant if you can put it that way."

"Got it."

"Tomorrow if you want we can spend the whole day at the expo. Exhibitors from many different companies will be presenting their latest designs, new ideas, and technologies. I will be giving a short presentation during the panel."

"I wouldn't miss it!"

"And as I mentioned in the evening we are invited to a banquet with several of my associates. So formal dress code, black tie."

"I'm prepared for such an occasion as well," you smiled pleased that thanks to yesterday's unexpected shopping you bought not one but two dresses, one of which you packed for the trip, "but if you were intending to calm me down I'm afraid you only made me even more anxious."

"Nothing to worry about," the blue eyes flashed brightly, "trust me, I'll keep you close," he added in a smooth low tone making you wonder about what your role was on this trip. "I know the schedule seems intense, and it probably will be, but most of all I want you to enjoy yourself," he said.

"I have a feeling it will be an unforgettable experience."

*

In the Bruce Wayne world, everything ran like clockwork, no delays, no mistakes as if everyone who came into contact with him knew instantly what standards he expected as if his mere presence made the world suddenly adjust to his requirements. Immediately after landing, a black Bentley pulled up and a driver who, as it turned out, only delivered the car, packed your luggage into the trunk and handed Bruce the keys. In front of the hotel, a staff awaited, ready to pick up the car and luggage along with an impressive tip, as if they were well aware of the car he was traveling in and the time he was scheduled to arrive. At the door, the elegantly dressed door-keepers waited for that perfect moment when he would come close enough for them to take a proper bow, greet him with a trained "Welcome, Mister Wayne," and open wide the door leading to luxury and prestige. As you walked beside him it seemed to you that everyone was looking at you, that curious eyes were flitting from every direction even though you were certain that most of the people in the hotel were of no less status than Bruce himself. And yet, with his statuesque posture, his perfect blend of nonchalance and class, and those intensely gleaming blue eyes, he seemed to tower above them all.

"Welcome to the Metropolis Plaza Hotel," the concierge greeted you in a perfectly smooth professional tone, "the suites are already waiting for you," he added pulling out the gold-colored key cards without expecting any acknowledgment from Bruce, "all according to your preferences. Your luggage has already been delivered."

Bruce simply picked up the cards with a brief polite thank you then directed you towards the elevators.

"Do enjoy your stay, Mister Wayne," you heard as you moved away from the reception desk.

"So this is the standard in the Bruce Wayne world," you smirked as soon as the elevator doors closed, "I understand that the lack of a hotel escort to the room is due to your preference for privacy."

"I hope this doesn't overwhelm you," the stoic billionaire's façade dropped again showing a sincere, kind-hearted man. You were fascinated by the ease with which he came to change faces depending on his surroundings.

"Maybe a little," you admitted, "I should expect it, but still, this is not a world accessible to mere mortals."

"Don't be fooled by apparent beauty and glamour. Everyone here plays a role."

"You too?" you glared with a devious smile.

"I do too," he confirmed, "and so do you."

"And what role am I playing, Mister Wayne?" you didn't intend to but the flirtation was coming out so very naturally.

"It remains to be seen, Miss Y/N/L," the way he accented your name brought a shiver to your skin.

You didn't have to wait long to find out. Bruce escorted you to your room, informed you that his was right next to yours, and left you alone for less than three hours, three hours that flew by in the blink of an eye. Coffee came first, having the highest priority in any situation, followed by a short message to Jonathan containing a simple, "I'll make it. See you on Sunday." Next, a shower because you needed to freshen up, makeup and hair because you needed to present yourself, black pants imitating leather and a dress shirt with chiffon sleeves according to you were business elegant. You topped it all off, despite your reluctance, with high heels, silver jewelry and a small handbag on a silver strap. You decided that with your budget and mortal's possessions, you looked elegant enough, and with half an hour still to spare you took a coffee and stepped out onto the balcony to get some air.

"Mr. Pennyworth had some good information," you grinned as you exposed your face to the surprisingly warm for this time of year sunshine lighting up the cloudless sky. Metropolis was so different from Gotham. From the top floor of the hotel, the view of the city spread with a shimmering glow reflected off the glass skyscrapers. So bright, so inviting, promising fulfilled dreams, the city you were supposed to live in, and yet. You listened for a moment to the whisper of the city below, so different from the hum of Gotham. Instead of menacing murmurs and mysterious whispers rolling through the city like blood pulsing through the veins, you heard joyful music composed of the sounds of distant conversations, signals, the hum of cars, the sound of horns, and the singing of birds. There was no darkness lurking in every alley, no fear, no dread, no quiet determination. After all, how could there be when the city was protected by the Man of Steel, who, instead of lurking in the shadows, rose in the sunlight toward the blue of the sky.

"Different isn't it?" reached you from the balcony next to you.

"Very different," you replied glancing at him. In the sunlight, his black suit shone with a soft velvety glow. The black shirt, black tie fastened with a pin under the collar, and that typical smile of his made your knees weaken. "But different doesn't mean, better. I liked Gotham's dark gothic vibe and its dark soul. There's something about it that just draws you in."

"You were supposed to work at LexCorp and live here," Bruce recalled, "now, after a few months in Gotham, don't you regret your decision? After all, Gotham was not kind to you."

"Absolutely not!" you grinned.

"I can't believe you wouldn't trade Gotham for Metropolis, the city of the future!"

"Nope!" you repeated with an even wider smile then added, "Metropolis has no Batman. And he saved my life."

"What are you saying?!" a shock of surprise swept over his face, "you didn't say anything! What do you mean he saved your life? That accident of yours?"

"Sorry but I don't go around bragging about it!" you replied awkwardly, "actually I don't know why I said that. Somehow, I thought of Gotham and thought of him," you mused for a moment, "but yes, Batman saved my life."

"I don't think I'll surprise you if I say that my curiosity peaked," he smirked, "you'll have to tell me all about it but in a spare time," he looked at the road below, "that's our car. I hope you're ready."

"I am!"

*

You weren't. You weren't ready at all and not even a little. You weren't ready for the crowd of reporters waiting outside the Metropolitan Expose, you weren't ready for the crowd of staring eyes, for the endless flash of cameras, for the excited voices exclaiming his name that you could hear behind car closed doors. A cold sweat washed over you as you looked at the world on the other side of the windshield, and suddenly you longed to be back in the sewers of Arkham Asylum instead of facing the devouring reporters. You needed a moment, you needed a moment of silence to calm your anxiety, to gather your courage, but it was not given to you. Bruce parked the car and, without a moment's hesitation, got out and the camera lights flashed even more intensely.

His name was shouted from every direction, calling for him, just to get his attention, just to get him to turn toward the right camera, but he ignored them all, walked to the passenger door to open it, and extended his hand to you.

"Breathe," for a split second he removed the mask from his face, "you are with me, you will be fine. Trust me."

"Trust me…"

You took his hand and got out of the car with the utmost grace, grateful in your mind that you decided to wear pants. As much as you wanted to head for the entrance as quickly as possible, to escape the blinding light of the flashes, you had to rely on him, and he had to play his part.

"Smile," he murmured quietly glancing at you discreetly. His eyes shone with understanding, safety but also pride, "you look amazing. Relax…" he smiled as he placed his hand on your waist drawing you gently closer to him. The camera lights blazed with doubled intensity taking away all your confidence and Bruce as if sensing this only tightened his hand tighter on your waist, as if wanting to give it back to you.

"Mister Wayne!!! Mister Wayne! Here!!!"

"Mister Wayne! Who is your companion!?"

"Bruce! Are you dating!?"

"Mister Wayne!!! Mister Wayne! GQ!!! Can I count on a short interview!?"

"Mister Wayne! What do you think of LexCorp's controversial moves!?"

"Mister Wayne! Is it true that you are planning to sell WayneTech!?"

"Mister Wayne! Who are you wearing today!?"

"Mister Wayne! Are you planning to settle down!?"

"Mister Wayne! What do you want to say to all the grieving women who will see you with your new partner?!"

"Miss! What's it like to catch the most desirable bachelor in Gotham?!"

A hail of questions fell from every direction. You couldn't see their faces, voices blended together, lights flashed from every direction and yet you were smiling, playing your part.

"And that is enough for them," you heard a quiet murmur. Bruce smiled one last time then, without taking his hand off your waist, directed you toward the entrance.

Yet inside, it was not at all quieter but much more interesting. Exhibitors from all regions of the country, each in their own part of the huge hall, yet occupying a space larger than that of many stores. There were no major players on the stands, only companies wishing to impress those who really meant in the business, hoping that perhaps their idea would impress one of those who had the means to implement it. Illuminated banners, music, impressive sound effects, excited promoters, passionate young entrepreneurs trying, at least for a moment, to stand in the glare of the world's most influential enterprises, a glare that shone above their heads hiding them in its shadow. On the walls around the entire room, high above their heads shone huge logos of the biggest representatives of the technology industry. The stylized LexCorp in sunset color, the minimalistic S.T.A.R Labs in blue and white, the red plain Stagg Industries, the green-gold modern Queen Industries, and among them the silver elegant Wayne Enterprises. You stopped for a moment gazing in awe. An exhilarating realization broke through the stress and anxiety bringing a bright smile to your face, you were part of it, one of them.

"Is it just as you imagined?" Bruce asked eyeing you with fascination.

"Absolutely not!" you grinned, "but I'll have to survive it, somehow."

As flattered as you were by his company you wanted to ditch him and run toward the stands, talk to the young brilliant minds, inquire about technological innovations, peek at solutions, absorb as much as you could. Bruce, however, had other plans.

"Forgive me, I should have warned you about the reporters," he said in a hushed voice pulling you gently to him, "I hope you won't hold it against me."

"Don't worry about it, I'll add it to the list of transgressions," you sassed.

"I'll have to do my best to balance this list with good deeds then," the blue eyes drew magnetically close. Bruce didn't even try to pretend that this was strictly a business relationship. "I have a few hands to shake, it would be a pleasure if you would accompany me," the soft voice and the charming smile made it impossible for you to refuse. He took your hand placing it on his forearm and led you into the crowd.

Moving through the venue from one group of people to another, you tried to remain classy and keep a discreet smile on your face even though excitement made your face flush. The statuesque figure at your side nodded time and again to someone in the distance, greeted with a look and a smile, shook one hand after another. Some faces came and went, faded into oblivion leaving only their gazes in your memory. Some full of admiration, others full of surprise, others brimming with contempt. You didn't learn their names you didn't know who they were and neither did Bruce feel the need to stop and have a word. They were just pawns when he was the man in power. Yet even though everything around told you that here you were walking hand in hand with power and prestige there was no hubris or contempt for others in him. There was none of the arrogance that others exuded.

"Miss Y/L/N! What a pleasant and totally expected surprise," arrogance emerged from the crowd dressed in a black suit, white shirt, and red tie, "I should have guessed someone had bought you off from me!"

"Mister Luthor," you greeted him with a polite smile while simultaneously clenching your hand tighter on Bruce's forearm, "nice to see you again."

"Professionalism trained to perfection," he looked at you meaningfully while simultaneously addressing Bruce, "Wayne, I thought we'd finally get along but meanwhile you first refuse to sell me WayneTech only to then buy off my engineer."

"I believe that's what we call a friendly compromise Lex," Bruce's tone dropped menacingly low. He refused to shake his hand, "WayneTech was never for sale to begin with."

"Come on Wayne! If you wanted to bargain all you had to do was make a counter-offer!" Luthor's ostensible nonchalance deprived of Bruce's honesty, once again he resembled a hyena taunting its prey. But Bruce was no prey.

"I'm not interested in your money Lex, and no amount of it would convince me to sell you WayneTech."

"Shame. With a mind as brilliant as Miss Y/L/N's we could accomplish so much," he finally looked away from you and fixed his gaze on him, "I understand merging business and pleasure but Bruce, you should stay with your models and actresses. It's a shame to waste such potential," he sneered and Bruce's muscles tightened under your hand. "If you had decided to work for me we could have cut a much better deal," he added in your direction.

"With all due respect Mister Luthor, but I simply could not agree to work for someone with such questionable ethics and a company profile that does not align with my own moral values," you snapped back with a wry smile, "no offer you would have made me could possibly persuade me to work for you."

"Questionable ethics? Well, well, she's entered the big leagues and she's already messing around," Luthor laughed, "Moral values can be easily changed and bent. You just have to know where and how to push."

"Not mine," you growled, "forgive me, gentlemen," you glanced at Bruce apologetically and walked away.

As you approached the bar you tried with all your strength to remain calm, but the blood in your veins was burning with anger. Once again you were reminded of your ignorance. You should have expected to meet Lex Luthor at the event, just as you should have expected the luxuries provided by Bruce and the dozens of photographers awaiting his arrival. "What am I doing here?" you leaned against the bar, ordered a coffee, and, sipping it slowly, watched him from afar. Although the conversation between him and Luthor seemed to be heating up, they both remained classy and professional. Standing a step away from each other, with forced half-smiles glued to their faces, only their eyes betrayed their mutual dislike. You were fascinated by how smoothly the look in Bruce's eyes changed, from worry when he glanced in your direction to icy anger when he turned back to Luthor. "How many faces does he have?" you wondered, "which one is real? Or are they all there?" you observed him, "he is hardly trying to keep a professorial distance."

"Don't let him get under your skin. He's a piece of shit, an arrogant piece of shit. He's hardly worth your nerves," a friendly voice commented next to you, "and you have nothing to worry about. Bruce knows very well who he's dealing with."

"I don't recall asking you for your opinion," you snarled without taking your eyes off Luthor and Bruce further immersed in conversation, "keep your friendly advice to yourself."

"So he's already got under your skin," the man laughed and slipped a fresh cup of coffee under your nose, "I am not sure if coffee is such a good idea, but yours seems to have gone cold."

"I appreciate the gesture, but I'd really rather be left alone," putting the cold cup of coffee down on the countertop and accepting the fresh one, you looked at the man and almost let it out of your hands, avoiding chaos only thanks to his quick reflexes.

"Careful!" he smirked saving the situation, "maybe we should order water after all?"

"Mister Queen…" the blond man smiled charmingly seeing your surprised face, "I'm so sorry! I really hadn't, damn it, I'm sorry. It was incredibly rude of me."

"Relax! Luthor is doing this to people, roaming around and pissing everyone off. A scumbag like no other!"

"I guess you're right," you smiled shyly, and remembering your previous faux pas you extended your hand to him, "Y/N Y/L/N," you introduced yourself.

"I know!" a wide smile lit up his face, "WaynTech's newest addition! Oliver Queen," he shook your hand exchanging courtesies, even though he didn't need to introduce himself at all.

"I know!" you replied with an equally broad smile, "please forgive the question, Mister Queen, but how do you know about me? I don't think a lower level engineer is important enough to be talked about at Queen Industries."

"Call me Oliver, there's no need for forced conventions," he corrected you, "Bruce didn't fail to mention you once or twice. Well, maybe five."

"Bruce talked about me?" you tried to control the tone of your voice in an attempt to hide your surprise.

"He talked is an understatement! How is the work going on the project to improve Gotham's security warning system? I'm looking forward to seeing the results of the first test phase. I think Star City would also benefit a lot from such a system!"

"I'm sorry, but I'm not sure if I should discuss this subject with the CEO of a competing company."

"Okay, let's establish one thing up front," he threw his arm around your shoulder and, steering you toward Luthor and Bruce again, he pointed his finger ostentatiously, "over there, that one in the red tie, an asshole and a scumbag. And my humble person, a friend," he smiled sincerely, "you do not think Bruce would talk about this project and you with just any random guy."

"I don't think that Bruce would talk about me or this project with anyone."

"You won't get far with downplaying yourself! A lower level engineer," he snorted, "not for long, oh not for long."

"I'm not downplaying myself," you denied, "I just…"

"Just what?" the ease with which he spoke made you want to abandon professionalism and be yourself.

"I'm surprised that's all! Seriously, I didn't do anything special, I'm just doing my job!" you sighed heavily but Oliver continued to smile disarmingly.

"Keep going, say again that you and your work are not worth talking about between two CEOs," he sneered.

"Because it isn't!"

"Y/N look around. Where are you and who are you here with. Believe me, if you weren't worth it you wouldn't be here. I know him very well," green eyes flared with amusement, "Bruce doesn't do or say anything without a reason, and those things and people he spends time with are worth a lot."

"You see, I hear what you're saying to me but it doesn't quite get through to me."

"It better start, and it better start fast, because tomorrow you'll be on the tongues of not only two CEOs but all the gossip magazines and portals out there," he chuckled.

"Fuck…" you swore quietly prompting a loud rubbishy laugh from Oliver, "I don't want any drama! The problems I already have are enough!"

"Let me tell ya, if you don't want drama you chose the wrong guy," he winked and added quietly seeing Bruce approaching, "there will be plenty of drama, believe me…" he whispered after which, spreading his arms wide, he gave Bruce a truly friendly hug.

"Ollie, I hope you maintain at least a modicum of professionalism," Bruce gritted but smiled kindly. The anger had disappeared completely from his eyes, and the smile he bestowed upon you as he stood at your side was as warm as before, "Was he behaving himself?" he asked.

"Me, never!" Oliver laughed, "I tried to persuade her to pour red wine on Luthor, completely accidentally, but she stubbornly refused."

"Yes, Y/N can be very stubborn," his hand seemingly involuntarily found its way to your waist again, "I'm glad you two had time to get to know each other. Oliver and I have been working together for years."

"I always thought Wayne Enterprises and Queen Industries were in competition with each other," you noted, uncertainly finding your place again at his side. Oliver's words did not leave you indifferent.

"Queen Industries would first have to have something to compete with," Bruce chuckled.

"Hey don't get cocky Wayne!" Oliver feigned offense, "mutual collaboration doesn't have to involve what our companies do," he turned to you.

"And what then?"

"I think we will have to leave this subject for another day," Bruce's tone suddenly grew firm again, "I think we have enough excitement for one day."

"Right! Tomorrow we'll have plenty of time to chat during the banquet!" Oliver nodded.

"Ollie, did you happen to see Clark Kent today?"

"From the Daily Planet, I've only seen Lois Lane but Kent hasn't. Why do you ask?"

"I was supposed to give him an exclusive during the event."

"He'll probably show up tomorrow, after all the paparatzi crowds have cleared out and only the real reporters are left."

"He better."

***

They called Metropolis the City of Tomorrow, a city of opportunity and fulfilled dreams, a city of lights that even in the middle of the night seemed as bright as during the day. A city where shadow and darkness never entered, where people could feel safe, guarded in the end by the Man of Steel. An idealized image of reality created by hopeful people. They didn't pay attention to crime, they didn't pay attention to violence, they seemed to ignore threats and those who threatened them, they felt safe, they felt that someone was watching over them. Someone who didn't hide his face under a mask, someone who didn't hide in darkness and shadows, someone who wasn't to be feared even though he posed a far greater threat to them than the one they feared. One who even here was able to find shadow amidst the radiance of the lights. One who seemed to bring the shadow with him, weaving it around himself like a veil that Clark could see from afar. The statuesque, motionless figure whose shape only loomed against the blackness didn't even flinch when he landed next to him on the roof of the skyscraper.

"Where were you?" he asked him in a low grave tone staring into the distance.

"Sorry Batman, I got held up," he replied walking up to him.

"The cat was stuck in a tree?"

"A plane fell from the sky."

"Funny," he chuckled quietly.

"Everyone's okay, nice of you to ask," Clark replied grumpily.

"I wouldn't have thought otherwise."

"Batman, what's going on? Why won't you tell me the details?"

"I want your honest reaction and opinion. My intentions don't matter."

"Why?"

"You don't need to know why," he replied sternly.

"If it wasn't important you wouldn't have asked me for help."

"I want you to either confirm or dispel my assumptions. At this point, you don't need to know more. Just be there tomorrow."

"I've seen the pictures," he decided to make a dangerous move knowing his friend very well, "they're already circulating online."

"Typical."

"You looked happy. Truly happy."

"I was doing my job. Don't look for much meaning in it."

"Bruce, we both know that's not true," he tried gently, "I saw you doing your job. I saw you putting up appearances when the spotlights demanded it. It wasn't the same."

"You have a point?"

"It's okay to want to be happy Bruce…. it's okay to want something or someone…." Batman didn't even flinch but his face hardened, despite that Clark decided to continue, "this life we lead, the mission, we can't do it alone. You can't do it alone. Want it or not, you're only human."

"I didn't ask you for life advice.

"Bruce, come on! How long have we been friends! You like her, that's obvious! For once, let yourself take a risk and give it a try."

"Stop," Bruce interrupted groggily, "just stop. Don't assume my intentions without knowing them."

"Lois has been watching you and said that she seems to like you. You. Not the persona you created."

"And that's exactly the problem," he muttered quietly.

"And why is that a problem?

"Just be there tomorrow," he ended the conversation then pushed off from the edge of the roof and soared into the night.

***

"And what are we going to do with you? You tried to run away, it wasn't nice of you. One can't just escape from here."

"Watch me," you spat out viciously. Your arms, legs, tied with wide leather straps prevented you from moving. You tried to yank yourself out but couldn't. Not far away, in the shadows of the light, multiple people seemed to be watching. "I have repeated this hundreds of times. I am not what you think I am! I can't do the things you think I can! Let me out!!! I revoke my consent!!! Let me out!!!"

"I can't," the needle flashed against the white light, "I can't just let you go. I can't let you run free out there. You know too much."

"Even so, no one would ever believe me! I'm a nobody! I'm unimportant! No one would pay attention to me! And even if someone did they would probably lock me up in the loony bin instead of believing me!" you tried to bargain, "Please. Don't. You know it won't work. Just let me go. I'm no threat to you."

"I wouldn't be so sure about that…" The icy voice pierced you along with the needle puncturing your skin. "You see I believe we just haven't found the right spot yet, the one we're looking for," he murmured beside your ear, "we press and push, prick and pierce, but we haven't found the right spot yet, which when pushed properly will release all your potential…" With cold wet fingers, he ran over your collarbones, neck to stop at your forehead, "it's here…. inside your head. And I want to bring it out."

"I beg you not…" tears flowed down your cheeks, "you're wrong! You are wrong!"

Cold metal touched your temples.

"Please stop…"

He laughed quietly tightening the straps on your arms and legs.

"Please don't…"

The sound of the machine being turned on rose above your sobs.

"Please…" a wide piece of leather shoved into your mouth drowned out your cries.

"And now we'll try to push."

Shock jolted through your entire body as electricity ran from your head to your feet. Muscles tensed, teeth clenched painfully on the leather in your mouth as the first wave convulsed your body.

"Again."

Your eyes went black as another surge shot through your muscles.

"Come on, show me what you're hiding."

The third surge stopped your breath, every thought, every feeling except the metallic taste of blood in your mouth.

"We can play like this and for hours. For me, the situation is won anyway. In the worst case scenario, I'll fry your brain and then you certainly won't be any threat."

The fourth surge, stronger than the previous ones stopped your heart.

Darkness fell and everything suddenly stopped. The pain disappeared, the tears dried up, the fear, dread, suffering seemed so distant. You fell into an abyss in which you heard neither your own breathing nor the beating of your own heart. You were falling into a blissful, peaceful darkness. You wanted it. You craved solace in the darkness, and when it seemed to have already surrounded you when you could almost feel its soothing touch on the wounds of your soul an aggressive flare tore through it bringing with it renewed pain.

A fifth wave shook your body with a scream that ripped out of you as if it wanted to destroy everything around you. A scream filled with pain, a scream filled with bitterness, a scream of hatred, a scream of anger, a scream of uncontrollable desire for revenge. It tore strips of leather from your arms and legs, shattered the lamps above your head, blew away the machines to the wall, set scalpels and syringes in a whirlwind, started hurling them in all directions, inflicting wounds, cutting and puncturing just as they cut and punctured you.

"I knew it!!! I knew it!" he exclaimed in delight, " magnificent! So magnificent!"

"You shouldn't poke in my head…" you breathed out through your teeth.

"Just look at you! Magnificent!!! You gonna be my…" the words sank into a gush of trailing blood. His white coat flooded with red as he grabbed at his slit throat as if desperately trying to keep the life inside him.

"I warned you," life escaped from his terrified eyes.

It was over. The nightmare was over. You were free. All you had to do was open the metal door and run down the long corridor toward freedom. All you have to do is open the door.

Bang! Bang! Banging against the door. Insistent, loud, aggressive, filling the silence. They were trying to enter. They were trying to breach the door. To stop you.

Someone called your name. From a distance. Barely heard under the deafening sound of pounding doors. Fading into the noise.

The pounding grew stronger, louder, knocking the door off its hinges with each blow. One more moment and they'll force their way in! One more second and they'll capture you!

A voice from afar called out again. Desperately. It called out once and then a second time. It was so far away.

The door yielded. With each blow bending the metal more and more to finally tear it from its hinges and forcibly send it to the other end of the room.

No one called your name.

You froze staring into the darkness. You waited for them. You waited for them to rush in with guns, with handcuffs, with chains. They will capture you. They will execute you. They will kill you. In terror, you waited. Ready to fight. Ready to take back your freedom by force.

But the fight did not come. The darkness took shape, the shape of a tall, slender man with raven black tousled hair, a marble face, and eyes that seemed to hide the stars. The darkness wrapped around his body taking the form of a long black cloak as he took long strides toward you.

Something had changed.

"Who are you?" you asked tentatively.

"That is not important,'" his voice resounded deep as if from the abyss of the world. He stopped between the blood and the pieces of glass, swept his eyes slowly over the surroundings before fixing them on you. His eyes seemed endless, like the infinite depths of a black starry sky. "You must wake up."

"Wake up?" you whispered.

"All of this," he ran his eyes over his surroundings once again, "this is not how it should be. It does not feel normal. Dreaming is disturbed, tainted, broken. You are broken."

"This is a dream?" you couldn't take your eyes off his, "how can I be aware that I'm dreaming?"

"Because I have allowed it."

"You allowed it?"

"You often come back here. To the same place. To the same memory," the infinite depth of his voice seemed to wash over your body and mind, "this is not the first time we have met."

"Why don't I remember it?"

"Because I don't want you to remember."

"Can you do it?"

"I can do many things," there was a gentleness in him, a cold soothing kindness, "I can erase this dream, this nightmare. The distorted memory."

"So this happened? I…" you looked at the blood spilling at your bare feet, "I killed him."

"Only you can find the answer to that question, but not here," he replied, "this nightmare is not quite real. It is altered, bent by your fear and by something else," he rubbed his fingertips in front of his eyes as if to feel a non-existent structure, "it feels forced."

"By whom?" the question broke out breathlessly.

"You will not find the answer to that question here," the stars in his eyes shone, "in a moment you will wake up. You will not remember our meeting. Nor my words. But you will remember the doubt. The feeling of doubt and suspicion. Trust in it. It will guide you to the truth," he slipped a pale hand out from under his coat.

"Wait!"

"This dream is over."

*

Bruce shook her gently in an attempt to wake her up. Forehead burning with fever, skin wet with sweat and tears, he repeated her name, gently trying to pull her out of the nightmare. She couldn't hear. Her face twisted in a grimace of pain, her hands clenched on the sheets, her body twisted as if in a convulsive shock, she suddenly relaxed and sank onto the bed.

"Y/N wake up!" he repeated again, "wake up! Do you hear me!" the realization of the adrenaline syringe hidden deep at the bottom of the bag in the closet of his room suddenly brightened his mind, "Y/N!" he shook her gently by the shoulders.

She moaned quietly. Her breathing took a steady pace, her heart seemed to calm down. Despite his terror, his thoughts were clear and composed. He looked around the room. The windows were closed. No signs of intrusion. Everything was in order, no disarray, except for the door lying on the floor, which he had knocked down a moment ago. He ran his eyes over her arms and hands and, finding no traces of a needle, reprimanded himself in his mind for thinking she might have been using drugs. "I've seen them before," he thought as he looked at the unmarked bottle. Y/N groaned again shifting under his hands.

"Y/N can you hear me?" he caressed her cheek. The fever was subsiding, "open your eyes…" he whispered. She only moaned softly and, cuddling her face into his palm, opened her eyes.

"Bruce?" confusion marred her eyes, "what are you doing here? What's going on?" she tried to get up so he helped her then rose from his knees and sat on the edge of the bed.

"Do you know where you are?" he asked softly.

"Sure I do," she replied startled.

"Tell me."

"We are in Metropolis, in a hotel room at the Metropolis Plaza Hotel…" she stopped in mid-sentence when her eyes rested on the hole in the door frame where the door should have been. At the entrance to the room stood a confused young man in a room service uniform, "Bruce? What happened to the door?"

"I knocked it out," he replied briefly then added, "I'll be right back alright?" he informed her and with a quick step made his way towards the entrance.

Y/N watched as he changed from a caring man to a powerful persona in the blink of an eye. She watched his commanding stride, the look he threw at the butler making the man yield under his weight, she could hear the icy "stay here" with which he held him in his place. He was gone only a moment. A moment full of confusion, the covers pulled high up to her neck, confused stares, and an uncomfortable silence. When he returned he didn't wait a single second, the authority spoke up issuing orders.

"Here's a grand," Bruce began, placing the bills in the man's hand, "I trust the press and tabloids won't find out about it."

"Mister Wayne, sir, I would never…" the boy blushed hesitantly accepting the money.

"Let me see your phone."

"Sir?"

"Show me your phone," Bruce repeated with emphasis taking the phone from the butler, "unlock it," he ordered.

"Sir I would never do anything that would…"

"I believe you," Bruce interrupted him, "unlock it."

The boy reluctantly unlocked the phone and handed it to Bruce. He only swiped the screen a few times before handing it back to its owner.

"Thank you," he pulled another stack of bills from his pocket and shoved it into the confused man's hand, "if anyone had asked I was drunk, completely wasted. I mixed up the rooms," the butler nodded while Bruce pulled out another bill, "here's an extra five hundred. A token of my gratitude for your cooperation and assistance in moving Miss Y/L/N's belongings to my suite quickly."

"Yes sir!" the boy merely nodded then with swift careful movements began to gather her bag and scattered clothes.

"Bruce it really won't be necessary," she began but he didn't listen to her. He only threw her an assuring look then disappeared into the bathroom only to return a moment later with a packed makeup bag and bathrobe in his hand.

"You can't sleep in a room without a door," he smiled kindly handing it to her, "you'll spend the rest of the night in my room. And tomorrow we'll work something out."

*

Fifteen minutes later you were sitting disoriented, wrapped in a robe and sipping hot mid-tea that had been delivered to you by the butler. The nightmare had not yet fully left your mind, still clouding your perception of reality. Bruce was pacing around the room. He arranged your clothes on the sofa, hung your dresses on hangers, carried your cosmetics to the bathroom then opened the window letting in the blissful fresh scent of the night air and sat down opposite you.

"You will take the bed, I will sleep on the couch," in the privacy of his apartment he adopted a gentle tone and warm expression once again.

"Bruce, I can sleep on the couch. Really! A lot of fuss about nothing!"

"About nothing?" his brow arched in surprise, "Y/N you were screaming. I thought someone broke in, that you were in danger. You were screaming in your sleep."

"I'm sorry…" you whispered embarrassed.

"Don't apologize," the warmth of his voice and the blue of his worried eyes seemed to calm your exhausted nerves, "don't apologize because you have nothing to apologize for."

"I have caused you trouble."

"It's nothing," he assured, "the most important thing is that you're okay. Are you okay?" his eyes shone with concern.

"I don't know…" you replied weakly, "I'd like to say yes, but that would only sound like a lie. And for some reason I don't want to lie to you."

"Has this happened to you before?"

"Nightmares? Yes. That intense? I don't know," you admitted, "it's not like there was anyone around to tell me about it."

"You were all feverish, crying in your sleep…"

"Awesome," you smiled faintly, "another mishap. This is what happens when you pick up an idiot from the street and bring her into the society."

"Stop it!" his hand tightened on yours, "I didn't say that to embarrass you or make you feel uncomfortable. I just, you worried me, I don't think that's surprising," there was no lie in his eyes.

"I didn't mean to worry you," you replied, but hearing Bruce's heavy sigh you gathered your courage and decided to continue. You owed him that much. "It started after the accident. Nightmares, anxiety, maybe slight paranoia. I ignored them, not the first trauma in my life. I knew that with time it would pass. But it didn't pass."

"Don't get me wrong but have you talked to a doctor about it?" concern shone in the dark depths of the blue of his eyes.

"A psychiatrist?" he nodded, "let's say that I did. My… friend helps me with the mess in my head. He has extensive experience and knowledge in psychology and psychiatry. He has been a great help and support to me since the accident. But I wouldn't call it typical therapy."

"Did you dream about the accident?"

"No…" one part of you wanted to run away from his gaze when the other wanted to completely sink into it, "no, I don't dream about the accident."

"If you don't want to talk about it, I won't insist."

"I don't want you to think I'm insane," you smirked.

"I won't"

"Promise?"

"Promise," a shiver ran down your spine at the sound of his words. A strange feeling, a familiar sense of security, "you can trust me."

"I think these are memories…" you began hesitantly but Bruce's hand still on yours provided comfort, "some of my nightmares are memories, for sure. I remember them too well to have any doubts. But others, I'm not so sure…" you mused for a moment, "they feel like memories, but I'm not sure. Because I don't remember…"

"You don't remember?"

"There is a two-year gap in my memory," you replied quietly. You looked at him but there was neither surprise nor derision in his eyes, only a quiet understanding, "A void, a complete void. A black space where memories should be. I don't know anything, I don't remember anything from that time."

"Memories began to return after the accident?"

"After the accident I increased the frequency of therapy sessions," you replied, "I also started taking medication. You probably think I'm nuts."

"I do not think that," he assured, "believe me, crazy is the last word I would use to describe you."

"Liar," you sneered even though his eyes spoke the truth, "I think the sessions and the drugs unlocked something in my mind and memories began to return."

"Memories of what?" he inquired.

"I don't want to talk about it," you slipped your hand from his under the guise of reaching for a mug of tea, "at least not now."

"Of course, I understand."

"Forgive me but I haven't even talked to my psychiatrist about it."

"This friend of yours, yes," you nodded in response to his question,

"This friend of yours, yes?," you nodded at his question, "you say he's good at what he does. What's his name if you don't mind me asking?"

"Doctor Jonathan Crane."

***

~~Gotham City~~

Nightwing stood over the broken body of a forty-year-old man and watched the blood flow from his frozen in excitement mouth. The bag of money he had recently stolen lay nearby, green bills spilling out onto the wet concrete sidewalk. The gun he had fired at him just a moment ago still warmly fell out of his hand with a metallic clang. If only he had reacted faster the man would still be alive. He should have seen this coming, but how could he?

"What happened here?" Red Hood jumped off the building and landed next to him.

"He jumped," Nightwing replied quietly.

"He jumped?"

"He just jumped. I didn't even have time to react."

"Wait wait wait. He robbed the bank and then committed suicide?"

"No… it wasn't suicide," Nightwing denied, "I got him cornered and instead of giving up he said I couldn't do anything to him, that he wasn't afraid of me," he looked at his brother seeking understanding, "he laughed in my face."

"That's new."

"He said I couldn't do anything to him because there was no fear in him."

***

Chapter ten: Dreams - part two

~~***~~

Author note: Originally this part was meant to be all in one chapter. But as I sat down and started writing, it grew and grew so much that I decided to split it into two. Otherwise, this chapter would be about 20k. I really wanted to get you all into his world, like truly deep into the world of Bruce Wayne, or at least the world that I imagine. I think it worked out. Some new characters appeared and one unashamed cameo which I couldn't help but write! After all, he is a character in DC comics (and I love him so much). The second part will be out as always within the next two weeks, and then I will take a break, which means that chapter eleven will arrive a month later. I'm traveling abroad to see my friend so I won't have time for writing. Hope you'll forgive me. I added to the tag list those who asked to be added. Thank you for your engagement! It truly means a lot to me. And finally, as always Dear Reader, I thank you for reading.

~~***~~

Tag list:@clown-princesa @theclassicvinyldragon @blondwhowrites @batgirlspain @hangmanscoming @julesjewelss36 @cherryflavoredcoke @grandstrangerphantom

[cringemesstickles]

Cat? What cat?

Summary: Jonah and Adam left the house, but Adam is frustrated about not knowing what’s in the basement.

Pairing: none

Word Count: 1,241

A/N: Finally finished one of my tmc fics!!! There are two or three little jokes in this one because I’m hilarious. Anyway, Adam totally didn’t go into the basement and I have no idea what you’re talking about.

Also, I did write the ridiculous line I was talking about… so have fun looking for it lmao

———————————————————

Adam and Jonah stepped into their shared apartment after a long drive from the supposedly haunted house.

It took a lot of convincing to get Adam to come back to the car, but when he did come back, Jonah was more than relieved, even if Adam did pout for nearly the whole car ride.

The blonde flopped down on the couch with a huff, pout still glued to his expression.

Jonah, with hair more silver than silver, sat down next to him.

"I'm really happy you decided to come back with me, man." He said sincerely, patting Adam on the back. “I don't know what I would've done with myself if I had left you there."

The blonde nodded, avoiding eye contact.

“Yeah, I know… but I still wanna know what was in that damn basement… you should’ve heard it, dude, it’s like it was calling out to me!…" He groaned and buried his face in his hands, his frustration more prominent the longer he dwelled.

"I get it, man... but you can't mope about it forever."

Adam turned to glare at him.

"I can and I will, thank you very much.” He declared stubbornly with crossed arms. "Nothing can stop my pity party."

This gave Jonah an idea…

"Oh really? Are you sure? You know… I bet I can make you smile.” He said with a cheeky grin, one that typically spelled trouble.

The blue eyed boy furrowed his brows with confusion before scoffing, trying to appear unfazed.

“No fucking shot, Jonah. I’m gonna be pissed for as long as I want.”

This only made Jonah’s grin widen, a mischievous sparkle dancing in his eyes “That's a pretty bold claim for someone as ticklish as you." He smirked and watched Adam's eyes widen.

"D-Don't you fucking dare...” Adam warned, narrowing his icy blue eyes.

Jonah chuckled and swiftly leaped at the blonde, pinning him to the couch.

"Okay Adam… give me one good reason not to tickle you right now." He grinned and wiggled his fingers in the air, knowing that always got to Adam.

Adam's eyes widened and he crawled to the other end of the couch to get away from his mischievous friend.

“B-Because if you do, I’ll k-kill you!”

Jonah knew that was an empty threat, and he gave an amused snicker.

“Yeah, right! If you killed me, who would pull your dumbass out of stupid situations?!”

The blonde growled, though it wasn’t very threatening.

“S-Shut up! Get away!”

But it was no use.

Jonah knew what he wanted and he wasn’t gonna stop until he got it… and what he wanted was for Adam to forget all about that stupid basement!

And smile, of course.

With no further hesitation, Jonah struck, going straight for his friend’s ribs, wiggling his fingers sporadically across the tender spot.

This resulted in a girlish squeal that Adam would frankly like to forget ever happened.

“EEK- J-JONAH, YOU AHAHASS! STOP IHIHIHIT!” Yelled Adam, squirming helplessly under his friend’s playful assault.

The pleasant sounds only encouraged the sly attacker and he let out a snicker of his own.

“Nope! I’m gonna tickle you until you’re laughing so hard, you won’t even remember what a cat is!”

Adam tried to produce a threatening growl, but his vocal chords wouldn’t allow it, too busy producing the mirthful, boisterous laughter.

He moved like a worm on a hook, wiggling every which way; but no matter where he went, Jonah’s skilled fingers followed, merciless in their pursuit.

Said skilled fingers skittered up and down Adam’s sides, making him shriek and guffaw.

“NOHOHO, N-NOT THERE- GAHAHAH!”

The silver haired boy ignored his friend’s pleas, giggling and adding a couple playful pinches.

“Why not? Does it tickleeee?~”

Adam’s cheeks carried a rosy red hue, Jonah’s teasing tone flustering him to his core.

“S-SHUT UP! YOU FUCKING SUHUHUHUCK!”

Jonah gasped, pulling his hands away to place them dramatically on his chest.

“I suck?! I saved your ass, thank you very much!” He poked his friend in the stomach, causing him to squeak.

Both boys took this squeak very differently.

Adam, eyes as wide as dinner plates, slapped his hands over his mouth, his already flushed face taking on a whole new shade of red.

As for Jonah… his eyes were just as wide, his hand freezing in its place as he processed the girly noise his best friend had just made.

This bewildered expression was quickly replaced with a devilish smirk and he gave Adam’s stomach another poke, eliciting another childish squeak, much to Adam’s embarrassment…

“Adam… what was that?” Jonah asked, already knowing the answer.

Adam’s response was a hardly one at all.

“Uh- well- um…”

Jonah was heavily amused… he’d never seen Adam look so flustered.

“Adaaaam~” he sang, letting his hands hover just above the blonde’s stomach, watching for his reaction.

Adam’s squirming ramped up, flailing to try and avoid the attack.

“Jonah, d-don’t you fucking dare!”

“Oh, I think I will!”

With that, he snuck his hands under the fabric of Adam’s hoodie, digging into the soft flesh underneath.

Adam burst into shrill, boyish laughter, squealing and kicking his legs.

“NAHAHAH- JONAHAHAH!” He squawked, weakly shoving at the offending hands.

Jonah giggled with delight, finding the frantic reactions quite adorable.

“What’s wrong? Too ticklish? Hehe~”

Adam was, indeed, too ticklish.

He bucked his hips and shook his head, his messy blonde hair becoming even messier.

“J-JONAH, PLEHEHEASE! I CAHAHAN’T!”

Jonah slowed his fingers, giving his friend some momentary reprieve.

“Hmm… I don’t know, Adam… answer this question and I might let you go.” He smirked. “what’s a cat?”

Adam, still catching his breath, blinked with bewilderment.

“What?”

“You heard me! What’s a cat?”

Jonah slowly lifted Adam’s hoodie to reveal the pale skin, causing Adam to squirm more frantically.

“I-It’s an annoying animal with pointy ears that says meow!!!”

The silver haired boy gave a teasing smile.

“You still remember what a cat is?! I guess I have to tickle you even more!”

Before Adam could respond, Jonah bent over and blew a messy raspberry on his friend’s tummy, making him shriek and buck his hips.

After a few playful raspberries, Adam’s laughter was reduced to gasps and wheezes, his cheeks flushed and stained with mirthful tears.

Seeing his best friend couldn’t take anymore, Jonah relented, getting off of Adam and chuckling.

Adam wrapped his arms around his midriff, panting and giggling still, a big, goofy smile on his face.

For a few moments, the room was mostly silent, the only sounds being Adam’s breathy leftover giggles as he tried to catch his breath.

Finally, Jonah spoke up.

“So? How are you feeling?” He asked, an amused smile on his face.

The blonde initially wanted to glare and say something snarky, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it.

“Actually… much better.” He admitted, sheepishly looking away.

Jonah’s heart filled with pride, glad he was able to cure his friend of his grumpiness.

“I’m glad… now, why don’t we go do something that doesn’t have anything to do with stupid cat alternates?” He laughs, nudging Adam in the shoulder.

Adam laughed back, sitting up and swatting Jonah’s hand away.

“Sounds good to me.”

And so, the rest of their night was full of laughter, ridiculous conversations, and snacks.

And although Adam never figured out what was in that basement, he decided to get over it and move on, because Jonah was right…

He wasn’t invincible.

[blackicephantom]

A Divine Taste IV

Almost two weeks passed since that “incident” in his apartment and not even a single word from the one involved. It was as if said male was….. avoiding him, which made something in his chest hurt. HIs actual wound healed nicely, almost completely gone now, and Gepard was FINALLY allowed to start work again. Even if it were just light tasks for now, it was way better than sitting alone in his home and wallowing in missed opportunities and missing a certain blue haired scammer. 

Being back on patrol gave him the time to think about whatever has happened there. Yes, Sampo had been a little forceful, but he had not hurt him, not even once! Neither his hand that pinned his own, nor the one that had been around his thigh had caused him any  pain. So why did he suddenly keep his distance? And it didn’t help that he always saw flashes of blue and green in the shadows of the alleyways or just around the corners of the buildings. The first few times he tried to chase these flashes, only to come up with nothing, no footprints, no traces. Nothing. Just like always when it comes to Sampo.

So he gave up after the fifth  time this happened. It was unusual for him, yes even unheard of, but he just couldn’t keep this up. For once in his young life, he couldn’t take the feeling that welled up inside him: something sharp and yet hollow, something that borrowed deep and refused to let go again. It suspiciously felt like a rejection…..

Lost in his tumultuous thoughts the blond just walked ahead, knowing that his fellow soldiers  were under strict orders from Bronya to keep a close eye on him. Ridiculous in his opinion, but his men took pride in this opportunity and were even more vigilant than usual, so he let them be. It was even quite amusing on some days if he was honest. A spark from the right caught his attention, somewhere right between two buildings of the Administrative District. It was the same as all the other times, the feelings of eyes that followed his every movement only noticeable due to their unique color. Clenching his fists he swallowed the impulse to turn completely and looked straight ahead. If the criminal wanted someone to play with he would have to look for someone else, because Gepard had thought they had left these little games behind after all these years. `Guess I was the only one….´ Ignoring the disappointment he shook his head and just kept marching forward, not even the lively chatter  and jokes of his soldiers able to quell the creeping loneliness and that feeling that he had done something wrong.

Hidden in the shadows the lean figure of Sampo Koski lent against the cold brick wall, his head hitting it with an audible thud. In all of his years he had been many things, yet he never knew himself to be such a coward. He has learned to be almost anything he needed to be, did everything just to blend in, only to falter when it comes to one very pretty Captain of a hopeless and icy planet.

After his absolute loss of control he was afraid of facing the blond again. Too deep sat his shame and too real the chance of it happening again. Not even locking himself away in one of his more secluded hideouts had doused the flame Gepard had lit inside him. And just like the first time, he couldn’t forget what he felt like: solid muscles and soft skin, all so very warm to the touch. The rich and fulfilling taste of his red flowing ambrosia, not to mention all the sounds…. Groaning at the memories, Sampo looked one last time around the corner, guilt eating at his rather dubious consciousness. He may be a vampire and a Masked Fool, but he was neither blind nor stupid, thank you very much. He saw the longing gazes, that brief glimmer of hope when he was spotted, as well as the disappointment and frustration everytime the younger found nothing but a deadend. But no matter how much he loved the attention and their regular cat-and-mouse game, he refused to be the cause of any kind of pain for the captain. `Oh, what hypocrisy. You don’t want to hurt your precious little human, but what about the pain you see in his beautiful eyes everytime you run away?´ Ignoring the annoying little voice in his head, he stepped away from the wall and went in the opposite direction of the guards. There are still deals to be made and people to scam after all.

Walking away he still tried to tell himself that it was for the better, no matter what his instincts and his poor heart were telling him.

-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Another two weeks went by without even a single interaction between them. Sure, Sampo was still very active in his business, still leading them on and fooling them, but even his men had noticed that something was different. While the usual patrol would at least catch a glimpse of the merchant, there was not even a single trace of him when their captain was even remotely close to the area. But no one was brave enough to actually ask about it, not even Dunn or Serval.

It’s not like they haven’t tried, because they did. But Gepard’s reaction had been….. a little far to the negative side of things. To say the least. Dunn refused to talk about what happened, his eyes slightly haunted, scaring the rest of the force. And the older Landau was simply shot down before she could even properly ask. `Everything’s ok Sis.´ or  `Nothing happened Serval.´ It irked her to no end, but if she tried to force an answer her little brother would simply shut down, which would be counterproductive. So the only choice was finding the one responsible, which was no less difficult. So the older blond just kept on watching, mumbling something about stubborn idiots with a wide variety of curses. 

This damned charade kept going and going, slowly driving both parties mad and insane:

Gepard, the ever steadfast and unbreakable shield of Belobog, the esteemed Captain of the Silvermane Guards, grew restless and cold. He was still polite and professional, as was expected of him, but there was less light in his eyes and he was visibly exhausted from days upon days of neverending work.

Sampo, self proclaimed merchant, professional scammer and unofficial member of Wildfire had trouble containing his bloodlust. If a deal went south he drew more blood then a few weeks ago and his thirst could not be quenched, no matter how much water, wine or blood he drank. The blood of the faceless strangers smelled disgusting and tasted even worse, he was not as careful and not nearly as gentle.

But while the Captain was kept in the dark, the vampire knew exactly what was going on, having informants in the fort and in the guards and all that. And that made his guilt and worry grow. The worst days were the one the younger returned from the snowplains and the frontline: obviously exhausted, no surprises there. But ever since returning to duty he got hurt more often than before. And everytime he would look around, as if looking for someone, only to shake his head and march off to the medics. 

You don’t have to be a genius to figure out what’s going on, yet the blue haired male did not reciprocate.

He would watch the wounds bleed, would follow the blood's path greedily with burning eyes, but would not approach. Close, yet ever out of reach.

A whole month after everything, another return from the endless battle that still raged outside of Belobogs safe walls and Gepard had enough. He was tired, frustrated, sad, confused and so much more, slowly drowning in the monotony of his duty and of blaming himself, fed up with all the questions everybody was asking him. Yes, he knew that Bronya, Pela and Serval were merely worried for his well being. But that didn’t mean he had to like their attempt of meddling in his personal affairs. Just after another bout of questioning from said females, Serval still screaming for him to `Wait a second Geppie!´, he just stormed off into the cold waiting outside the fort. No matter how gentle the questions were asked, they were getting rather intrusive, even if the Supreme Guardian herself was the one to ask. And he made that fact known:

“That is a very private thing to ask, Madame Guardian.” He knew that his tone was not really appropriate, but there are still some limits, especially after the whole thing with Cocolia.

Pissed beyond most reason, Gepard just kept on walking without any destination in mind. The crisp and cold air bit into his face and the still falling snow started to obscure his vision, yet he still kept going, wanting to be away from everything, if just for an hour or so. And so his trained legs took him to one of the Silvermane camps just outside of Belobog, not quite on the frontlines but also not quite in the safezone. Another plus was the fact that there was almost no one there and that his presence was nothing unusual either.

Exhausted, the blond sat down on the first space available, not caring that the snow would slowly soak through his uniform pants and even the thermal wear underneath. Leaning forward he put his elbows on his knees and just……breathed. For this short moment he just wanted to exist in the quiet that surrounded him, for once not bothering to put up the facade of the ever perfect Captain. One deep breath, two deep breaths, three, four, five….. In and out, in and out. Again and again and again. He ignored anything around him for the moment, even the light crystals starting to crawl up his boots as well as the white mist he started to breathe out. He was an ice user, his shields the most solid ice one could find on this planet, and he was used to the cold anyway. 

The blond didn’t know for how long he just sat there, did not really care about it either, just that it was long enough for a light sheen of frost to cover his hair and parts of his uniform. Sighing he finally sat up straight, frost flaking off of him, aware that there was another presence in his vicinity. He knew that looking around was unnecessary, for the one hidden in the shadows would not step out of them, so he didn’t even try. Still…… Those eyes bore into him, rekindling the irritation he wanted to leave behind in the first place.

“Not out scamming innocents today, Koski?” was the first thing out of his mouth. Sure, it wasn’t even close to what he truly wanted to say to the other male. But he was just so done with this shit. And, like every other time nothing came back, even after another few minutes. Snorting at his own desperation he looked up into the gloomy sky, ignoring the single wet trail that slid down his cheek. “You were oh so worried for me just weeks ago. And now? Now you wouldn’t even approach me.”  The last part was whispered, yet rang unbearably loud in the stillness around him. Another sigh and  the blond simply deflated. He was angry, he was frustrated, he wanted to see Sampo, banter with him, laugh at his stupid antics. But most obvious: he was just bone deep exhausted. So his brain started to shut down, only leaving him with all of his raw emotions and no filter. “Had I known this would be the outcome, I wouldn’t have asked you to visit me that day. I should have taken Serval's word for your well being, instead of following the selfish urge to see for myself.”  The following chuckle sounded hollow and carried an unhealthy amount of self-loathing.

Unseen in the shadows the vampire clenched his fist and his teeth, trying to keep in control and not to fall on his knees before this beauty of a human and beg for forgiveness. Sampo knew that Gepard rarely wanted for anything, being raised in one of the biggest and well known noble houses of Belobog one reason and being unbelievingly duty bound another. He knew enough about the Landau siblings' circumstances to realize he had said that last part deliberately, which tugged on his heartstrings. But what the other said next pulled the rug out under his feet. “Not even that new little tic you found so amusing comforts me anymore. I’m not the only one after all, am I? Nothing special, just one of many to fall for Sampo Koskis many charms.” Another little laugh, even more bitter than the last and slightly choked. 

“Just one of many-” echoed in his head and left him frozen in place. Was that truly what the blonde thought?  `Of course. You have done nothing to prove him wrong after all.´  Sampo really, really started to dislike his own inner voice…. As well as the sound of Gepard’s soft sobs. And yet he still didn’t move, leaving his beloved soldier alone with his despair. He waited till the sobbing turned into gentle sniffing and turned around to finally leave, again, only to stop at the others final words. “I’m so fucking pathetic. First I fall hopelessly for the bloodsucking scammer, hoping for something more only to get those hopes cruelly crushed. And then I start to talk to myself.”

Wiping the remaining tears from his cheeks Gepard stood, waited just another second, the last glimmer of hope dying in his chest and went on his way home. This night, he would wallow in his misery and embrace the pain of the blatant rejection. He…..didn’t know what he was hoping for. But whatever it was: it had to be something more than this damned silence. It hurts so deep, even worse than the injury that had started all this. Remembering their closeness of that day almost made him cry again. He wanted to claw the skin open again, wanted to see if that would change something. But he was a grown man, he would NOT go down that very dark path and he could take Sampo’s decision with dignity. SO he took one step after another and hoped that his final whisper was not heard at the end.

“How about we just go back to the beginning? Back to just being a criminal and a captain? Would you talk to me then?”

Again, no answer.

Just the clinking of his armor and the rushing winds accompanied him on his way back. Desperately trying to ignore the agonizing pain of his broken heart, Captain Gepard Landau mourned a relationship that was never meant to be.

[meekmedea]

Ok, this has been nagging at me almost all week, but the epilogue for fatum faciendum est got me thinking…

Do Clemensia and Coriolanus end up having more than one child? Probably. They both seemed open to the idea.

And then I fell down a rabbit hole of random thoughts. I think it’d be a bit funny if their daughter in the epilogue gets their wish granted. So without further ado, let me present my ramblings: 

Clemmie’s doomed to be the only one in the family with pin-straight hair. It’s kind of funny because she’ll just be waiting, bored to death as the rest of them go through their 12 step hair routine. (Coryo probably takes the longest to style his hair 😆)

At the same time, Coryo’s fated to have children that mostly take after Clemmie in her eye colour and hair colour

Pandora - their eldest is a little bit of a blabbermouth (she’s like 5 - let’s cut her a little slack). When she next sees Tigris and the topic of gifts comes up, she mentions to Tigris that she’s getting a sibling for her birthday.

Tigris tries really hard not to laugh at Clemmie + Coryo, while these 2 are like “huh, maybe we should have a talk with our kid about what info should stay a secret.” Because there’s no way in hell that Coryo wants to deal with that info being shared to Clemmie’s parents. 

Number of kids? Hmm…maybe 4?

Pandora, their eldest (dark curly hair, and brown eyes)

Eirene - another daughter - this is their only child that has his blond hair + blue eyes

To everyone’s amusement, Pandora is disappointed that her new sister has blue eyes, but says she guesses it’s acceptable (Pandora’s parents are amused - Clemmie more so than Coryo)

A boy follows very quickly, this time it follows Pandora's request lol (dark curly hair and brown eyes). Eirene and Aurelius could be considered Irish twins with how small the gap between them is. 

Then there’s a considerable age gap between Aurelius and their last child. Unplanned, but it’s another daughter –Lytta. (Another dark curly haired child, but with blue eyes)

When asked if they have a favourite child, they both say ‘no’. But whereas Clemensia means it, Coriolanus doesn’t. (Hint it’s his eldest.)

Their parenting? 

Clemmie is a bit more involved than he is

At her behest, the children have some sort of artistic education whether that be music, art, dance etc...

And at some point, each of their children have probably approached Coryo for something that Clemmie has said ‘no’ to. When asked why they’re asking him then, they’ll say, “because Mom isn’t the boss of you.” 

The first time he’s hit with that, Coriolanus wonders if it is a trick question. He has now learnt that there is a correct and an incorrect answer. Being President of Panem doesn’t exempt him from Clemmie’s ire. (He really wished it did though.)

Very quickly, he realizes that most of their children have taken after Clemmie's ability to charm just about anyone. Especially their eldest. Despite it not being as efficient as Clemmie’s - he’s fallen for it more times than he should

~

Bonus: one of Persephone and Festus’ kids falls HARD for one of Clemensia and Coriolanus’ kids. 

Worse yet (for Coryo) - it’s his eldest AND it’s reciprocated